tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66296519944353515432024-02-20T17:48:42.326+02:00Marquel Random Legacyconvicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-1516611777107454972018-05-01T21:17:00.000+02:002018-05-01T21:17:55.917+02:00Chapter 3.18 - No Inhibitions<span style="font-size: large;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">*Warning: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bad language</i>, as
usual. Also, references to mature events and bad things that are generally a
very good idea to stay very far away from.*<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lyra warily watched her daughter
flip through a book, brows drawn sulkily together. She recognised the temper
growing behind those brooding eyes, and Lyra found herself growing increasingly
more and more weary of it. She couldn’t remember when she had last managed to
talk to Mireille without finding the need to scold the girl about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was, to be quite frank, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">extremely exasperating</i>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0acTVX-7kfdqqX0geP5MCpBqY6jiyM94gdpfzLbs6xjIRNmL5lhHUPl6zQPYWL-mvBsIkEYDa0gOq462-NTrndEWh9N4cGFm0irG7aEsrjQ3yIQJa_tFn-gbUlD3ZpSbWs_jEOSSo_CU/s1600/318.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0acTVX-7kfdqqX0geP5MCpBqY6jiyM94gdpfzLbs6xjIRNmL5lhHUPl6zQPYWL-mvBsIkEYDa0gOq462-NTrndEWh9N4cGFm0irG7aEsrjQ3yIQJa_tFn-gbUlD3ZpSbWs_jEOSSo_CU/s640/318.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">To make things worse, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise’s </i>temper seemed to have shortened
as well. He was constantly scowling at everything, and while she honestly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>mind his scowl, she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>mind the snappy retorts he was
increasingly spitting out. She knew he tried his best to keep his temper under
control, but Mireille seemed to have made it her life’s mission to pick a fight
with him about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every damn thing</i>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4li2cPVK437s2aEsv1LzRdidtQu4rH_pV-WpQBDHR_w32wjY00KoxVY-BLawdtKntz7fL-87Ek1qld3QASy-IBsRdUJbrzf3WBBRov_QGLL9WakxQ0Zx6EbZJKWz2E-JuInvyL2XPlW8/s1600/318.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4li2cPVK437s2aEsv1LzRdidtQu4rH_pV-WpQBDHR_w32wjY00KoxVY-BLawdtKntz7fL-87Ek1qld3QASy-IBsRdUJbrzf3WBBRov_QGLL9WakxQ0Zx6EbZJKWz2E-JuInvyL2XPlW8/s640/318.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It made life…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very </i>unpleasant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille scowled and slammed the
book shut, causing Lyra to exhale wearily. Oh <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yes</i>, she recognised those signs. Mireille was getting extremely
irritated with her ‘grounded’ status, and it wouldn’t be long before she
started devising ways to get out of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Problem was, it wouldn’t be in
ways Lyra wanted. They’d have to keep an even closer eye on their daughter.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDKQqDYV7XtVP3q7_CcMPaStW69MZhrIE1KCTIV2AogbsEoYnfGi6BXFJBGlVwvRAwPllqcbpCgeApq-kGF3no_9m9zNh_Ev_DMtYr5ByaVgp2lTNPVs2cf38jzMWAXFQ2tmQQxqPmkc/s1600/318.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDKQqDYV7XtVP3q7_CcMPaStW69MZhrIE1KCTIV2AogbsEoYnfGi6BXFJBGlVwvRAwPllqcbpCgeApq-kGF3no_9m9zNh_Ev_DMtYr5ByaVgp2lTNPVs2cf38jzMWAXFQ2tmQQxqPmkc/s640/318.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Grounding the girl just simply.
Didn’t. Work. Maybe it was time to try out Renard’s advice, even if the part
about taking her to Mike’s Karaoke had been an unmitigated disaster.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Mireille, want to come jogging
with me?” she suggested invitingly. Mireille immediately perked up, her entire
expression lighting up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Sure!” she immediately agreed
before dashing off to get changed. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDejqnRH3UoNrqHlahkPofNuZvNu9UnV_k9IijfbZmhZ-X_neOCWw3EaqxoBGUIm3WNzur3OCvf3PH2JH5cDtZXrl-ua9XYMZdieHsZqXgwZe5vQawq0kXo3Je22NBZ7DGfbkU4Jxb64/s1600/318.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDejqnRH3UoNrqHlahkPofNuZvNu9UnV_k9IijfbZmhZ-X_neOCWw3EaqxoBGUIm3WNzur3OCvf3PH2JH5cDtZXrl-ua9XYMZdieHsZqXgwZe5vQawq0kXo3Je22NBZ7DGfbkU4Jxb64/s640/318.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The entire outing turned out a lot
more pleasant than Lyra had expected. Years of jogging had increased Lyra’s
fitness to peak condition, and to her mild surprise, her daughter easily kept
pace with her, even whilst wasting breath by chattering happily the entire
time. Her eyes were shining in a way Lyra hadn’t seem in a long way, and Lyra
soon found herself smiling contently. It was such a welcome change, being able
to talk to her daughter without needing to use harsh words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It took a while, but Mireille
eventually tired and slowed to a walk, forced by her body to take a break. Lyra
indulgently slowed to a walk as well, even though she could’ve gone for longer
still.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ouch,” Mireille complained, breathing heavily
and holding her side, “I’ve got a stitch in my side.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRMCbG1Zt5jH6U41MoWEwCUVh5oHcFtPWZJTtSTCYLFDXzmrrv7-gTTk01fT7nh81_HkVh5uabqTJjsY9LA50qTMH4DMSJjek6MkFvXvfSnr-vHXi2aXZGIj1JUNsATFQ4X3_pyEL9Bc/s1600/318.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRMCbG1Zt5jH6U41MoWEwCUVh5oHcFtPWZJTtSTCYLFDXzmrrv7-gTTk01fT7nh81_HkVh5uabqTJjsY9LA50qTMH4DMSJjek6MkFvXvfSnr-vHXi2aXZGIj1JUNsATFQ4X3_pyEL9Bc/s640/318.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“It’s because you’re not breathing
correctly,” Lyra offered easily, remembering her own early days when she’d just
started jogging. “You have to breath <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with
</i>your stride, not against it.” Even as she said it, her own breathing was
calm and regulated, well used to the exercise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille shot her mom a sulky
look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I know that,” she argued sulkily,
but her eyes burned with challenge. She probably felt like she lost something
by being unable to keep up with her old and aging mother, Lyra noted with
amusement. The girl always <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>hate
losing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlbrWsEGi_H8tKY6KR0RVE7g3StuscEGMoW_VMnnI8L1SGcQQmkMpFMCSlbPpBys1eQBjy7A7AWJaYxYpQ1K84yy2l1DX-iU4n1HA26ZuQuzI-BBYjcCE2nKMKy-bna3LEcb8Bqq2PBo/s1600/318.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlbrWsEGi_H8tKY6KR0RVE7g3StuscEGMoW_VMnnI8L1SGcQQmkMpFMCSlbPpBys1eQBjy7A7AWJaYxYpQ1K84yy2l1DX-iU4n1HA26ZuQuzI-BBYjcCE2nKMKy-bna3LEcb8Bqq2PBo/s640/318.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It soon became a part of routine.
Mireille would come home after her after-school activities, finish her
homework, and join her mom in jogging around the town for an hour or two. To
Lyra’s surprise, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>help with
Mireille’s behaviour. For the first time in a long while, Mireille was once
again sweet, and occasionally, even helpful around the house. It was a very,
very welcome surprise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The entire mood in the house
lifted.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMBUGs3kxil503nVvowtObYuWAIX-NBzdjwEAb9ubxBmLO9icfaZIaGhN3X1BfOK2CyLqUShn93BEK3ATVkwPmzq1Evf3wAOHu21gjSuQX6J6S3DjNfck0c1hVnI-dLiuOO13ExcLfyo/s1600/318.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMBUGs3kxil503nVvowtObYuWAIX-NBzdjwEAb9ubxBmLO9icfaZIaGhN3X1BfOK2CyLqUShn93BEK3ATVkwPmzq1Evf3wAOHu21gjSuQX6J6S3DjNfck0c1hVnI-dLiuOO13ExcLfyo/s640/318.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper</i>,
my parents are easy to fool,” Mireille confided in Lucinda, once again out in
town, having snuck out of the house. “I just have to act a little bit like a
good girl, and immediately I’m not grounded anymore. Best of all, they still
don’t know I sneak out every night after they’ve gone to bed.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9e3Uw6_HXVHJBdl-yidSSO2Dilo85NmYmmoXvujKs97tHsf8hX8ag6gn6MLf3qDbhXZewFBNnpZcjitnm9A9mB7FpJEh4Tbp9nxDf2gXqZsh_F9TEEXvWLj3goTnWuHeT7jb7TK6Hjbo/s1600/318.07b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9e3Uw6_HXVHJBdl-yidSSO2Dilo85NmYmmoXvujKs97tHsf8hX8ag6gn6MLf3qDbhXZewFBNnpZcjitnm9A9mB7FpJEh4Tbp9nxDf2gXqZsh_F9TEEXvWLj3goTnWuHeT7jb7TK6Hjbo/s640/318.07b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lucinda giggled. “I know, right? It’s
so easy.” She was already mildly tipsy from the Pink Bunnies she’s been
guzzling down the entire evening. Mireille herself was feeling a bit
light-headed from her Bad Cheerleaders. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loved
</i>hanging out at Varg’s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Hey Mireille,” a voice sounded up
from behind her. “Fancy seeing you here.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille turned around curiously,
and a satisfied smile slipped onto her face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi Blake,” she returned, recognising her
classmate and not-so-secret-flirt. He’d broken up with Jeanne ages ago, and
while it was disappointing Mireille couldn’t goad the other girl anymore, she
still thought Blake was<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>a lot of fun
to kiss. Especially behind the gym at school, when they were bunking classes.
He was great.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“What do you girls say we ditch
this place and head over to the Red Velvet Lounge?” he suggested hopefully.
“I’ve got a contact there who’ll let us in.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille tilted her head interestedly,
and Lucinda looked up from the pool table, momentarily losing interest in the
game. The Red Velvet Lounge was very, very difficult to get into, but also
very, very prestigious. They’d been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dying
</i>to go there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille met Lucinda’s eye. The
other girl gave a small nod, and Mireille turned back to Blake with a devilish
smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Sure,” she agreed eagerly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Red Lounge was everything
Mireille had expected, and more. The music was pounding and the lights
flashing, and the entire air was filled with smoke and foreign scents that made
her feel just a little light-headed. The bouncer looked intimidatingly at them,
but with a single name-drop from Blake, he grudgingly let them in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who’s ‘Shan’?” Mireille asked Blake
curiously. While she wasn’t personally <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">acquainted
</i>with everybody in town, she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>heard
of almost everybody living in Moonlight Falls.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGEhbUQzcTxkTFZQrJ04HsdlBm4oPU0JKombiCYTkSGDFqJ2RYXjK0qADfAnC6FXazmrTVBfYOrjNsNSxEMOl6QWYklclmdLzh_Z4-HcoVxRe-l80JpohTUeUvaxqUh3sMuPT3E-xueg/s1600/318.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGEhbUQzcTxkTFZQrJ04HsdlBm4oPU0JKombiCYTkSGDFqJ2RYXjK0qADfAnC6FXazmrTVBfYOrjNsNSxEMOl6QWYklclmdLzh_Z4-HcoVxRe-l80JpohTUeUvaxqUh3sMuPT3E-xueg/s640/318.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Shan Bernier,” Blake shrugged easily. “We
work together, sometimes. He’s…well, he’s quite the regular around here. You’ll
meet him soon enough.” With that he brushed apart a curtain of beads and led
them into a dark room.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Instantly the foreign scent grew
stronger, and through the haze filling the air, Mireille could vaguely make out
bubbles floating around. Mireille felt an excited, anticipatory shiver run down
her spine. A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bubble bar</i>. She’d never
used one before, but she’d heard <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so much </i>about
them, and it always looked so fun. She’d heard the experience was even better
when the water inside was swapped out for something…a little stronger.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUg07UK7F-y88TAlTkUP6yYl0rUFzHrH7xDYDfQX2A31kRkSlVNsa9JO-1RlvJiFdZy8LuTrUVsfZ2SR8CG_9E3k_nKzN1c-IhbEiUpnaTLQap7ObQMuviNBhjvTz1AFjpdw1k8Ofi4gQ/s1600/318.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUg07UK7F-y88TAlTkUP6yYl0rUFzHrH7xDYDfQX2A31kRkSlVNsa9JO-1RlvJiFdZy8LuTrUVsfZ2SR8CG_9E3k_nKzN1c-IhbEiUpnaTLQap7ObQMuviNBhjvTz1AFjpdw1k8Ofi4gQ/s640/318.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And that sure as hell wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">water </i>in there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Oh yes, she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love </i>to try it out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She almost didn’t notice there
were someone else in the room until she glanced across the bubble bar and met
the most <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vivid </i>eyes she had ever
seen. They stood out sharply against the dim light in the room, brightened by
an unnatural glow, one Mireille immediately recognised.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jczoFRzJf8K0lkUREAUyE6HHOnZDYtho4ejqGb5S9IyrsUR5Q47rPxKBnzyonmAv0bHXQEyecVKgtaU1EGFD2jwNudKRMYkSYwY69NyioNahKwzoze6ZmKDFn4gsdfYbrJkybYvpQUk/s1600/318.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0jczoFRzJf8K0lkUREAUyE6HHOnZDYtho4ejqGb5S9IyrsUR5Q47rPxKBnzyonmAv0bHXQEyecVKgtaU1EGFD2jwNudKRMYkSYwY69NyioNahKwzoze6ZmKDFn4gsdfYbrJkybYvpQUk/s640/318.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Werewolf</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They weren’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rare</i>, by any definition of the word, but they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were </i>unusual. They tended to stick to their packs, never mingling
with others. There were a couple at school, but even then, people tended to
stay away from them. They were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dangerous</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Also, very, very interesting. She tilted
her head and smiled challengingly at the werewolf, relishing the way her heart
instantly beat faster at the promise of possible danger, and those vivid purple
eyes narrowed for a second before the owner smirked at her, flashing white
fangs at her.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qFHDs2PBUl5Ne_z-eCdQs2NYLggtGirEM4ETuadR51E_N7Xf1Jtgt6tOqXCHqM0P7MHRqlki4v5ySp59-O2Vt4Ulm1d06ulNBkfrwEvRGFIZxwVRnMC8X5t3fvGkwpLmyoYn88oQE0Q/s1600/318.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qFHDs2PBUl5Ne_z-eCdQs2NYLggtGirEM4ETuadR51E_N7Xf1Jtgt6tOqXCHqM0P7MHRqlki4v5ySp59-O2Vt4Ulm1d06ulNBkfrwEvRGFIZxwVRnMC8X5t3fvGkwpLmyoYn88oQE0Q/s640/318.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I see Blake brought guests,” the
werewolf stated, his voice low. Lucinda gave an uncertain little step
backwards, but Mireille immediately took him up on the subtle challenge. She
twirled her hair flirtatiously around her finger, and smirked daringly at him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re not intruding, are we?” she asked
coquettishly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The werewolf returned her smirk,
fangs barely revealed, and Mireille felt another shiver run down her spine.
Every part of him screamed ‘danger’ at her. It was absolutely thrilling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not at all,” he allowed easily. “Any friends
of Blake’s are welcome here. Feel free to join us.” He gestured at the two
empty seats left at the bubble bar.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOvVzLKrKd1RdUtUOL-ktFHM4LX6wrgB4h0n_261m4yBOUFYm6JP2mMkOZIW-XJr8T5OvqLWX-aMUqm4HPYHTLBToflqK1md9i9rwuUCVaszB8__ZERW8TWFsRMryt26B_jEHKfccip5w/s1600/318.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOvVzLKrKd1RdUtUOL-ktFHM4LX6wrgB4h0n_261m4yBOUFYm6JP2mMkOZIW-XJr8T5OvqLWX-aMUqm4HPYHTLBToflqK1md9i9rwuUCVaszB8__ZERW8TWFsRMryt26B_jEHKfccip5w/s640/318.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The girls shared once nervous
glance before they smiled in concert. Oh, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this
</i>was going to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When asked about the night later,
Mireille would be hard pressed to give a clear answer. The scenes all seemed to
blend together in her mind, from the first breath of bubbles she took. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rieYmjedeJTcrjBGyWV99tskG6L257US5M2mdB1y3c1FidTmOGw0K8aO8ubV3idV7LsO0SMaItIXyvmhvoDNWmvTAa36GxXlcBL-xwLhugO2LqCtZmmWeIjE7y9hDcWLSJjtgXV2jwQ/s1600/318.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rieYmjedeJTcrjBGyWV99tskG6L257US5M2mdB1y3c1FidTmOGw0K8aO8ubV3idV7LsO0SMaItIXyvmhvoDNWmvTAa36GxXlcBL-xwLhugO2LqCtZmmWeIjE7y9hDcWLSJjtgXV2jwQ/s640/318.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The music was pounding in the
background, drumming through her bones and whispering strange thoughts to her
mind. Blake’s laughter was loud and feral, and Mireille’s blood rushed through
her veins, filling her body with heat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She remembered…</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NSswLusqG_zS-WvnmtMbvTyC1hf-o87UDR42rQV1MBP0bgsDXbt8IhU_y1JYvN9gVcrNR16Iv1YoDb8FU_1OnOLcrm44oLdHZ5fVTGyFTfcU0fshsnGIw5Eh_0sZ9pd2QiNBlRDjA4s/s1600/318.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NSswLusqG_zS-WvnmtMbvTyC1hf-o87UDR42rQV1MBP0bgsDXbt8IhU_y1JYvN9gVcrNR16Iv1YoDb8FU_1OnOLcrm44oLdHZ5fVTGyFTfcU0fshsnGIw5Eh_0sZ9pd2QiNBlRDjA4s/s640/318.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Bubbles.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ENr2yiJkdlYQILIG22tsTDunRe8wxaqHlN7e2g1YpRHr5nm_2kA9i1DvXhpT77rspbiogJiMBzADB8FeC6OXsCU1Y5zAqRG267sxhVTJhFBkPmHwjBv1jTxgzDAVM1pHdlw3SUTloDs/s1600/318.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ENr2yiJkdlYQILIG22tsTDunRe8wxaqHlN7e2g1YpRHr5nm_2kA9i1DvXhpT77rspbiogJiMBzADB8FeC6OXsCU1Y5zAqRG267sxhVTJhFBkPmHwjBv1jTxgzDAVM1pHdlw3SUTloDs/s640/318.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Bright, colourful drinks.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGvniiS_4BwHnvqM-QPfpQcESkNFGjvrkeSm-1aSMR81IT3kQyU30EMdMJEdLDA9cUCriVBPa85-XolaRpq9jZ10BnFxPVMB2LAic80-HoOSs19qJicXJQHDrBuuYRxGn-y9v6XGzS00/s1600/318.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGvniiS_4BwHnvqM-QPfpQcESkNFGjvrkeSm-1aSMR81IT3kQyU30EMdMJEdLDA9cUCriVBPa85-XolaRpq9jZ10BnFxPVMB2LAic80-HoOSs19qJicXJQHDrBuuYRxGn-y9v6XGzS00/s640/318.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Vivid eyes, and flashing fangs.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zd5-JC7nqlMjcOhOn1I1vWCOYP2X-k9kcAJLlriQxXEULqsgqtrxrNyh-YfrkMWnZBnndkcF46IvJhVSRmaQmyFqis49l6FsGp8AKXoKkFcD8lfJD34peJTwfalHAtpCKzB3m6APOZc/s1600/318.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zd5-JC7nqlMjcOhOn1I1vWCOYP2X-k9kcAJLlriQxXEULqsgqtrxrNyh-YfrkMWnZBnndkcF46IvJhVSRmaQmyFqis49l6FsGp8AKXoKkFcD8lfJD34peJTwfalHAtpCKzB3m6APOZc/s640/318.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Roaming hands, and hot, desperate
kisses.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOKohYFy0AN4FLgS3cBFzD7wtLMxzQvfiy9hnCAJcX6be6MAwdu9DL0Lc5KC5fHM2KRUgH-4u7yWQ0Gk-q68ObYKduBHOBspH8CvoTPA0SVazrMduARxQH5Fef1V5aUdkVAL4duBETXo/s1600/318.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOKohYFy0AN4FLgS3cBFzD7wtLMxzQvfiy9hnCAJcX6be6MAwdu9DL0Lc5KC5fHM2KRUgH-4u7yWQ0Gk-q68ObYKduBHOBspH8CvoTPA0SVazrMduARxQH5Fef1V5aUdkVAL4duBETXo/s640/318.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A vial, filled with a viscous
glowing liquid, the colour of vivid, too-brilliantly glowing eyes, held lazily
by the neck.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Low whispers.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkip7h8ZmGtUgdIVPvWU6nU2-tnQXJ_fhWrFc4x_Ck2jWLB8CcPoSUehfz81tFltbo7zHSV1WoYmtI5oYVtngAB0hZ4uciMMPE0xbVAtlo6ALMS69Y5CEHBO80HLT4mafy5N837lDWn8I/s1600/318.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkip7h8ZmGtUgdIVPvWU6nU2-tnQXJ_fhWrFc4x_Ck2jWLB8CcPoSUehfz81tFltbo7zHSV1WoYmtI5oYVtngAB0hZ4uciMMPE0xbVAtlo6ALMS69Y5CEHBO80HLT4mafy5N837lDWn8I/s640/318.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“A single sip of this will show you Bliss, the like of which you have
never experienced before. Wanna try it?”</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It tasted like honey, and magic.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqH6LsSjRLLuntdJkqAx3_LY6SwYDx2TqjDjpEnjAwqhBmn0ZKjwzmFU-xnq4WhCZqi1ETKuC081ctUINUlGm6lFP_fdKx2KbyV4tTzDHLCBLiwmGiGEIo-8KxWmvdevDc7ndOWdRgL4/s1600/318.22a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaqH6LsSjRLLuntdJkqAx3_LY6SwYDx2TqjDjpEnjAwqhBmn0ZKjwzmFU-xnq4WhCZqi1ETKuC081ctUINUlGm6lFP_fdKx2KbyV4tTzDHLCBLiwmGiGEIo-8KxWmvdevDc7ndOWdRgL4/s640/318.22a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Like Bliss.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEh3Mf1ak7EjKaxsShGJwLT3pNJ9ZYk2QXL_zprlmj-XHPZGA_zaTbgDi49Xru6D44IICggPbl3bhVzKJ1K3lDlfz5PJVMhRASzEal9b-wscF_10EKUsezyHbBumN7DOzCz5EEgwreAs/s1600/318.22b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUEh3Mf1ak7EjKaxsShGJwLT3pNJ9ZYk2QXL_zprlmj-XHPZGA_zaTbgDi49Xru6D44IICggPbl3bhVzKJ1K3lDlfz5PJVMhRASzEal9b-wscF_10EKUsezyHbBumN7DOzCz5EEgwreAs/s640/318.22b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She could hear the colours hidden
in the music, and taste the flashing lights.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was terrifying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Exhilarating.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mind-defying.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bliss</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A self-satisfied smirk, wrapped
around barely-hidden fangs.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQG05LurvIi4iV3Axs3vCLcAwK4QBlSpL2iNLPNdmd9iEOF-67YoviKGGMQMTce9JhlQ3pEqtYnRGi2NDYHDo27U9oKRdps7RH6stsLp5jU_xdqn7o2jEZswsU6R1UIrynpeA8Nl3RXxc/s1600/318.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQG05LurvIi4iV3Axs3vCLcAwK4QBlSpL2iNLPNdmd9iEOF-67YoviKGGMQMTce9JhlQ3pEqtYnRGi2NDYHDo27U9oKRdps7RH6stsLp5jU_xdqn7o2jEZswsU6R1UIrynpeA8Nl3RXxc/s640/318.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Warm breath on her neck.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTya5-bGfpuqLLc3yaes6hBNrM306PndOL0XG2jbld3kLUQGn0dDi8FSqwNuTjYF3LAUNhpbNvFrb2p9RsvX677VNs3AaQx49f4QXcMXGVBR-FIggo4zsixVbPZ_1YHADns8PS8OpvdE/s1600/318.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTya5-bGfpuqLLc3yaes6hBNrM306PndOL0XG2jbld3kLUQGn0dDi8FSqwNuTjYF3LAUNhpbNvFrb2p9RsvX677VNs3AaQx49f4QXcMXGVBR-FIggo4zsixVbPZ_1YHADns8PS8OpvdE/s640/318.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re very intriguing. If
you’re ever looking for something to do, come look me up. Let Blake know, and
I’ll find you. Until then, have fun. I’ll see you again.”</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She couldn’t remember anything
else of that night.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille laid on her bed, idly studying
Reagan’s scout badges still displayed proudly on the wall while she
contemplated the past night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Red Velvet Lounge had
been…unlike <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>she’d
experienced before. It frightened her little, that she couldn’t remember much
of the night, or even how she’d gotten home, but it had been…indescribable.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yearned </i>to have another experience like it, but at the same time…</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQr2c6fBZaPt_HzS-Kdc9mDFudUa2AmthSeTXErwbe90YbLvTzOtBoqAdcVD27xge0E3BaXU8evDa71gmlFFRvezb-69LSwM1TR9RPzTwvzUjQbimNGSNf_YE_-lZV1MYYuZPV5_ZPrd8/s1600/318.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQr2c6fBZaPt_HzS-Kdc9mDFudUa2AmthSeTXErwbe90YbLvTzOtBoqAdcVD27xge0E3BaXU8evDa71gmlFFRvezb-69LSwM1TR9RPzTwvzUjQbimNGSNf_YE_-lZV1MYYuZPV5_ZPrd8/s640/318.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She had had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no </i>control. After that potion, that…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bliss</i>, Blake, Shan, or even a complete stranger could have asked
her to sleep with them and she would’ve agreed. They could’ve asked her to kill
someone and she wouldn’t have refused. The way the Bliss had coursed through
her veins…she had been completely unable to resist. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No inhibitions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She didn’t want to feel like that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever again</i>. The Red Velvet Lounge with
the bubble bar and the drinks and the music and everything was a hell of a lot
of fun, but the Bliss…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Yeah, there was no way she was
gonna take that shit again. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t just the Bliss. Maybe it
was a combination of bubbles and drink and exhilaration, but the Bliss
certainly didn’t help. She wasn’t a stranger to the effect of juice, and the
bubbles had been a unique experience, but definitely not something that could cause
her to lose control over her actions. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bliss
</i>though…</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHxogZQ5wPCDvDvXrG-JhN0RnTj0XAM1Rl5HMqM9XPbSeqTK1cMT16I2Pgh7-SXa_U0RRd2Xac3VzUN4L-pI9b3Raonhe9-TGg4pJQ8ZFS7nAqYckQ4XGuxjpBq1BqkXu7WtDvTmWOI0/s1600/318.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHxogZQ5wPCDvDvXrG-JhN0RnTj0XAM1Rl5HMqM9XPbSeqTK1cMT16I2Pgh7-SXa_U0RRd2Xac3VzUN4L-pI9b3Raonhe9-TGg4pJQ8ZFS7nAqYckQ4XGuxjpBq1BqkXu7WtDvTmWOI0/s640/318.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She was pretty sure it was the
Bliss.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She snapped her fingers, watching
her magic spark along with the motion. Her binding had snapped sometime during
that night. She could remember the way her magic had filled her up when the
binding snapped, but that was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">after </i>she
had taken the Bliss, and right now, she couldn’t help but feel like the
experience had been tainted. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her magic was still wild, still
untrained, and combined with the Bliss? She could’ve hurt someone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so bad</i>. Even now her magic was stubborn,
sparking at random times and mulishly doing nothing when she willed it to work.
She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>to get training.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so scared </i>of telling her dad.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRJLObTI1CSGtMWnPATxjQ-wfE-jdhsaf-yX4_TNfHiSGVrNzwP-8s_zlgDvJbWj6vzqDXF9O-P9JDzJ2RuI3sgHYcSNIEYr6aGh-W1ERuY3Hue_cjU9HCsMFtHvxo-4rsfB8fgqHARQ/s1600/318.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRJLObTI1CSGtMWnPATxjQ-wfE-jdhsaf-yX4_TNfHiSGVrNzwP-8s_zlgDvJbWj6vzqDXF9O-P9JDzJ2RuI3sgHYcSNIEYr6aGh-W1ERuY3Hue_cjU9HCsMFtHvxo-4rsfB8fgqHARQ/s640/318.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">What if it had been the Bliss that
had caused the binding to snap? What if her magic was still immature, and when
she asked for training her dad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">noticed</i>
and realised <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>had happened
to snap the binding? She’d have to come clean about the Bliss then and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper</i>, she didn’t want to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She definitely felt like she had
crossed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>line she shouldn’t have.
She was absolutely terrified.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A knock on the door jerked her out
of her reverie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Mireille?” her mom’s voice
sounded muffled through the door. “I’m going jogging, are you coming with?”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpdq8Yd7ajp1izmAz44iJmTJ3I_rBUj81Ipbz-wCK_nritlf8HVT4ewDdCKQPU5AavHviYcHNZeGV67QLLq_N5r-TX2pkG_2BGF93YvvaQVZTjo3CIGC9AkVWWU-5rc1Wjon_xtjhUF4/s1600/318.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpdq8Yd7ajp1izmAz44iJmTJ3I_rBUj81Ipbz-wCK_nritlf8HVT4ewDdCKQPU5AavHviYcHNZeGV67QLLq_N5r-TX2pkG_2BGF93YvvaQVZTjo3CIGC9AkVWWU-5rc1Wjon_xtjhUF4/s640/318.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille seriously considered
refusing for a minute, but the moment passed, and she slid off the bed. Maybe
the exercise will help clear her head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The familiar scenery of Moonlight
Falls passed by them in a steady, unaltering pace. The clean air and earthy
smell of the woods around them normally filled Mireille with peace, but today
it didn’t help much. The woods made her thinks of werewolves, which led her to
think about Shan, which led her to remembering the Bliss.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7WMTWU2GwaEMyblWEa3DuMwaCoDUjL1k3Mqj1pBIy92MuuRDrYYnpbujY1ikI3uBWDumUgo_iW4TfelEl3GKf8apAXU4atOeCerupqiIeJTJTnIR3YQ6N1QnqYykjgtG2cEW1F_3-Rw/s1600/318.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7WMTWU2GwaEMyblWEa3DuMwaCoDUjL1k3Mqj1pBIy92MuuRDrYYnpbujY1ikI3uBWDumUgo_iW4TfelEl3GKf8apAXU4atOeCerupqiIeJTJTnIR3YQ6N1QnqYykjgtG2cEW1F_3-Rw/s640/318.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It didn’t take before her mom
noticed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She slowed to a stop, forcing
Mireille to stop as well.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Okay, spill,” her mom ordered,
fixing her with a stern look. “What’s wrong?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille scowled and looked away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Who says something’s wrong?” she
murmured defensively.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her mom gave her a deadpan stare,
brows lifted, unimpressed.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNj1WN4oE7mJIsqE6CAoBDBhwY_Ir6UhLSm9-mbPBUARn_qrfggemGpuiUpbkBG6HUud_9aZacA32bc-ocbvm5siwnjhp9kRBZjLcwz8WaHt8AJu2J2BxHJk1iyEjUP8Fbsk0VIrgV8yc/s1600/318.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNj1WN4oE7mJIsqE6CAoBDBhwY_Ir6UhLSm9-mbPBUARn_qrfggemGpuiUpbkBG6HUud_9aZacA32bc-ocbvm5siwnjhp9kRBZjLcwz8WaHt8AJu2J2BxHJk1iyEjUP8Fbsk0VIrgV8yc/s640/318.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re not fooling anyone, Mireille,” she
scolded. “Now talk.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille opened her mouth to
protest further, but that wasn’t what came out of her mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I did something stupid,” she
confessed. She slammed her mouth shut, surprised at herself. She knew she
trusted her mom, but she didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to
tell her anything. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her mom sighed resignedly, a frown
forming between her brows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Are you pregnant?” she asked bluntly.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryDKs0THaTf5lIwn4JcFrXNW2MmTjyXtSX687CFi0yfhz3WKWau4h7qIYKzQUiX14OzjmQ4TEjDU2ynNQGj6g4ItCJZi2GBUF4QYrq4v4J9MGeHP3P0Tm4NHTgifXrgWZwt87vCNn36w/s1600/318.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryDKs0THaTf5lIwn4JcFrXNW2MmTjyXtSX687CFi0yfhz3WKWau4h7qIYKzQUiX14OzjmQ4TEjDU2ynNQGj6g4ItCJZi2GBUF4QYrq4v4J9MGeHP3P0Tm4NHTgifXrgWZwt87vCNn36w/s640/318.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille reared back, revulsed by
the suggestion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“No!” she immediately protested,
face burning with embarrassment. She did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
</i>want to have this conversation with her mom. “I’m not…I haven’t…why would
you…I’ve never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">slept </i>with someone!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Oh good,” her mom nodded. “That
means whatever you did it won’t result in my worst fear. So, what did you do?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille opened her mouth to spill
the entire sordid tale, and immediately closed it again. There was no way she
was gonna tell her mom she was still sneaking out at night. But she still had
to share <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mZQ5P9s0S40IGXYg6WS2H00J8cEXXz6UqG2DxETXS2z23WIqKzgU4_bZXvkiUiqHYnYUL2UWajsLSBiwai365Oiqy_2_m1ZQBXwJE0RY2hYjF0raEEjsMPe0hY9sDUzMqHJBegoULR4/s1600/318.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4mZQ5P9s0S40IGXYg6WS2H00J8cEXXz6UqG2DxETXS2z23WIqKzgU4_bZXvkiUiqHYnYUL2UWajsLSBiwai365Oiqy_2_m1ZQBXwJE0RY2hYjF0raEEjsMPe0hY9sDUzMqHJBegoULR4/s640/318.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m not gonna tell you what I did,” she
refused guiltily. “But…the binding on my magic snapped and it might be because
I did whatever I did, and I’m scared of dad finding out about, whatever it is I
did. That’s it. That’s all you’re gonna get.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“It’s enough,” her mom remarked
wryly. “If you’re having trouble with your magic, Mireille, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to tell your dad.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I know,” Mireille agreed
pointedly, “and that’s why there’s a problem, because I don’t wanna tell him. He’s
only gonna yell at me, and he’s already disappointed enough.”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAvbv2vtwVBSBcJdWRzfpF7Kg1CqRJjS2LkSKvnjkdfHmASip4xlXsGZO3sqiMVqvYAKKWi4n78mwFBdj9D3d8hW0I6cbwQBlE5028iPZvfCnlc18fhbNb0B2yxx4AwuKJa1EKySxLrM/s1600/318.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAvbv2vtwVBSBcJdWRzfpF7Kg1CqRJjS2LkSKvnjkdfHmASip4xlXsGZO3sqiMVqvYAKKWi4n78mwFBdj9D3d8hW0I6cbwQBlE5028iPZvfCnlc18fhbNb0B2yxx4AwuKJa1EKySxLrM/s640/318.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her mom sighed resignedly, and started
moving again. Mireille effortlessly joined in on the exercise, realising the
worst of the interrogation was over.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Fine,” her mom relented several
strides later. “I’ll tell him, and ask him not to blow his top. In return, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to train with him, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">listen </i>when he does. I’m not happy it’s
come to this, Mireille, but I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am </i>glad
you told me, because the alternative would’ve been much worse. In the future,
when something like this happens again, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please
</i>let us know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Fine,” Mireille agreed reluctantly.
She didn’t really want to make a promise like that, but she could see the
necessity. Even so, she wasn’t sure if she would keep that promise. Better to
deal with things herself.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaL1g6QOl-wWN5OALeYNHUEJsr90JZeM5N5JqHcqtNOwg4bhVUoAqllEqfpaNDTh8jm0BCHr1WK3PzeD6Vzhc-hNovDah0rB6dSm8vvee4vfLIkf7errWng_zTSP9KQCIqgsJOVERC-2Y/s1600/318.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaL1g6QOl-wWN5OALeYNHUEJsr90JZeM5N5JqHcqtNOwg4bhVUoAqllEqfpaNDTh8jm0BCHr1WK3PzeD6Vzhc-hNovDah0rB6dSm8vvee4vfLIkf7errWng_zTSP9KQCIqgsJOVERC-2Y/s640/318.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">After all, what the eye doesn’t
see the heart doesn’t grieve over.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her dad hadn’t found out. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Although her mom had made good on
her promise and informed her dad about her magic, when he started training
Mireille he never breathed a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">word </i>about
her mistake. It put her a little bit on edge, constantly wondering when the
other shoe would drop, but it never did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She’d been worried about
absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing</i>, it seemed. Her
magic was fine, and the snapping of her binding had been normal and complete.
Nothing to worry about at all.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWah-in2dp5u30YqNWHloE3CMbEAPSEi0QZWzocX6hQDV00ixALOyE1jupteJYx3cSdOzYfM2Eykb5qzsCf_tiC0E7QpnuVBw7fypVRQuIjyB2JaMpKjnOINhVOuPdsrmD6DHuF4rJVZA/s1600/318.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWah-in2dp5u30YqNWHloE3CMbEAPSEi0QZWzocX6hQDV00ixALOyE1jupteJYx3cSdOzYfM2Eykb5qzsCf_tiC0E7QpnuVBw7fypVRQuIjyB2JaMpKjnOINhVOuPdsrmD6DHuF4rJVZA/s640/318.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She felt so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid</i>. Of course he couldn’t have found out. It wasn’t like Bliss
left tangible <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">proof </i>that someone had
drank it. Once it was out of the system it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gone</i>. The only thing that kept her from using it again was her own
self-control.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She opened her eyes when she felt
Blake’s lips leave hers. She normally really enjoyed kissing him, but today her
mind just wasn’t in it, and he clearly must’ve realised it, because they
normally made out much longer than this.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Am I doing something wrong?” he
asked disgruntledly. His thumb was still on her jaw, and his eyes was still
burning with desire, causing Mireille to feel a little guilty. She really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hadn’t </i>been paying attention.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY35P-4PN4y_aXyBE7v8tcuy7BFV40rGjY3JpRcouXB7l6k7eA6Ew5QUaYelcKjDnZ9odZ-ZEUT3gTqMdWSvq2Nb4Gz3YSfOFw_nbIGn4VZo6jFSbJHBvkrmQGXIZVjmtZZBplgyHfL_U/s1600/318.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY35P-4PN4y_aXyBE7v8tcuy7BFV40rGjY3JpRcouXB7l6k7eA6Ew5QUaYelcKjDnZ9odZ-ZEUT3gTqMdWSvq2Nb4Gz3YSfOFw_nbIGn4VZo6jFSbJHBvkrmQGXIZVjmtZZBplgyHfL_U/s640/318.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nope,” she chirped, giving him a sweet little
smile. “Nothing wrong. I just haven’t been paying much attention, that’s all.
I’m sorry. Let’s go again?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He frowned, and Mireille thought
he was going to refuse, but he leaned forwards again and recaptured her lips,
and this time Mireille allowed the activity to drive the thoughts out of her
head. There was enough time to think about stuff later. A part of her still
remembered the way he’d felt her up that night at the Lounge, and she kinda
wanted him to do it again. There had been something about the way his hands had
slid around her skin that just made it…so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thrilling</i>.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUrx8DMcIypDQ7xFf8NgrSU8qS2ilQa_dPBVGDQSze51-N4OUca7eh8qoFpydd6tizNAoCZX9TEFAbMdq_QkMUHfB3WlvgK6-WosuQYx33hx9eIMDbz-5VacZpoVhuxy6TEeomnOL_Wo/s1600/318.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUrx8DMcIypDQ7xFf8NgrSU8qS2ilQa_dPBVGDQSze51-N4OUca7eh8qoFpydd6tizNAoCZX9TEFAbMdq_QkMUHfB3WlvgK6-WosuQYx33hx9eIMDbz-5VacZpoVhuxy6TEeomnOL_Wo/s640/318.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They got interrupted by the
ringing of the bell, signalling the end of lunch break. Blake groaned and
dropped his forehead onto her shoulder, well aware that their fun was over for
now. Mireille at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tried </i>not to
skip too many classes. It resulted in way too many detentions, and she was
trying to convince her parents that she was a good girl, so they wouldn’t
ground her again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Good girls didn’t get detention.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She straightened her skirt and
gave Blake a smile full of promises.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Well, I guess that’s it for now,”
she apologised. “We can either continue this tomorrow, or today after school.”</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_4oRFjWxpE0xPLAmL1V_zboLyxRe9GsxbqH-RO5Ohhg2p_rQt63-JWzmVD5LLkEg5vr-czkaifjCv3lP4j-AwfoZJpMXmkGawpMFvesc_73RgcdvWxlB2Lj1QXhM5IU9wWxkEPZmGc4/s1600/318.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_4oRFjWxpE0xPLAmL1V_zboLyxRe9GsxbqH-RO5Ohhg2p_rQt63-JWzmVD5LLkEg5vr-czkaifjCv3lP4j-AwfoZJpMXmkGawpMFvesc_73RgcdvWxlB2Lj1QXhM5IU9wWxkEPZmGc4/s640/318.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Or,” he suggested, “we can continue this
tonight, at the Red Lounge. I’m going: wanna join me?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille eyed him, happily
considering the invitation. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely
</i>wanted to go there again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Sure,” she agreed easily. “See
you tonight then. Just let me know when.” She gave him another promising smile
before dashing off to class, eager to tell Lucinda of her plans.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille slipped into her seat
beside Lucinda <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just </i>before the
teacher started the next class. Lucinda threw her a welcoming smile, well used
to her cousin’s antics, but before she could say anything, the teacher starter
lecturing.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXUW0hej9TxBnjE6kXYkG4Ka9McF25YA49sVnkxeZUM6DPh1WsLoVRHbCn6ekOox297rPJprbNx4P5hk5K-L_bVqTtPjJRinI-TUUpz_ov7mYTdzL7EH0ZNKYpH38-V09hxXHb24JPvI/s1600/318.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXUW0hej9TxBnjE6kXYkG4Ka9McF25YA49sVnkxeZUM6DPh1WsLoVRHbCn6ekOox297rPJprbNx4P5hk5K-L_bVqTtPjJRinI-TUUpz_ov7mYTdzL7EH0ZNKYpH38-V09hxXHb24JPvI/s640/318.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lucinda grabbed her pencil and
notebook, causing Mireille to perk up. Lucinda didn’t take a lot of notes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">especially </i>not if the teacher had only
just started lecturing. There was only one reason she’d grab a pencil at this
stage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Sure enough, Lucinda scribbled
something down and pushed the notebook over to Mireille.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Dedrick asked me out! I said yes ;)</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille gasped at the news. She
knew her cousin had a crush on the guy for ages, but she never thought they’d
actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get </i>together. She grabbed
her own pencil to scribble out a reply.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xt6xh8WLBk5eFA8qdAbXBFVD1vEB2NWJK2dJwa3crQ4RNWc9IUQ1tVHwC4EfY8uFPOW5yXUQSFXVtDU16Nk7gVRfdhPOHW6v9TveWqUY2Gfc8d-3Ikd831hZdF9pJm-GbEeqrZrunyo/s1600/318.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xt6xh8WLBk5eFA8qdAbXBFVD1vEB2NWJK2dJwa3crQ4RNWc9IUQ1tVHwC4EfY8uFPOW5yXUQSFXVtDU16Nk7gVRfdhPOHW6v9TveWqUY2Gfc8d-3Ikd831hZdF9pJm-GbEeqrZrunyo/s640/318.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No way! Congratz girl!</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Thank you :D We’re going on our first date tonight <3</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille pouted a bit at the news.
That meant her cousin wouldn’t be joining her at the Lounge tonight. Even so,
she felt happy for Lucinda. She’d been mooning over Dedrick for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way </i>too long.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Have fun ;)</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">That night found Mireille staring
at the Red Velvet Lounge, alone for the first time since she and Lucinda
started sneaking out at night. She didn’t think it would be the same without
her cousin, but there was no reason she couldn’t have fun on her own. With her
head held high and filled to the brim with confidence, Mireille walked into the
building as if she owned it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqKaLxyJ4YOIdLt3b50RelTTMhcM1JR3oNCM2350spPkN3Xd84n86R3gpl4Jso1j9VATlG2jRYt4j5sil4J8Hrey1xPTQ-vvl4ZNsDZi3T5YyyJHokgLOwWroMBWTnimdeLK-dnZev_U/s1600/318.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqKaLxyJ4YOIdLt3b50RelTTMhcM1JR3oNCM2350spPkN3Xd84n86R3gpl4Jso1j9VATlG2jRYt4j5sil4J8Hrey1xPTQ-vvl4ZNsDZi3T5YyyJHokgLOwWroMBWTnimdeLK-dnZev_U/s640/318.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Red Velvet Lounge was still
just as captivating as the first time she’d visited it. She found Blake just
inside the entrance, and the bouncer let them in without even sparing them a
second glance. The music was pounding and the lights dim and flashing, and
Mireille felt her smile broaden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Oh, how she had looked forward to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>. Varg’s just wasn’t the same
anymore. She loved how everyone had private little rooms in the Lounge where
they were free to do whatever the hell they wanted and nobody would stop them.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITl5HDZkVXQi8kKQeL89Sp4TpAm5_yzYslPxdDyLRadHyrW6DOpJvhvvxcEj0i5kaqdxtWnfqjXHTIVCQ_DiKQRldGBPlxdKXdJTRw4RYZ3uul0Djzghhz2c686ytbYbQheE56YPBVwU/s1600/318.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITl5HDZkVXQi8kKQeL89Sp4TpAm5_yzYslPxdDyLRadHyrW6DOpJvhvvxcEj0i5kaqdxtWnfqjXHTIVCQ_DiKQRldGBPlxdKXdJTRw4RYZ3uul0Djzghhz2c686ytbYbQheE56YPBVwU/s640/318.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They weren’t in the room with the
bubble bar, this time. They stayed mainly in the central hall, guzzling down
drinks and dancing and chatting, and when Mireille wasn’t boldly flirting with
Shan at the bar, who was easily returning her advances yet never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quite </i>committing to anything, she was
stealing kisses with Blake on the darkened dancefloor. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>offered Bliss once more, but she resolutely refused it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxmqVTlssRzQjI74ArEh4PMEp79Yd7Kdpc7Zc0xODJvN33xLcV-Q0YAG00tOrFG9qOdWEnR-QHrReYwkxMnvhsLsyScg_LSImQ3Qa3bmBysvktb3ltaKwdFmFo2DnAYro1-WFM8IGFdk/s1600/318.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxmqVTlssRzQjI74ArEh4PMEp79Yd7Kdpc7Zc0xODJvN33xLcV-Q0YAG00tOrFG9qOdWEnR-QHrReYwkxMnvhsLsyScg_LSImQ3Qa3bmBysvktb3ltaKwdFmFo2DnAYro1-WFM8IGFdk/s640/318.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>need that shit to have fun. It didn’t escape her notice than
neither Blake nor Shan took it either.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Later on, she retreated to one of
the private rooms with Blake where they eagerly continued their activities that
had been interrupted at school. She went further with him than she ever had
before, allowing him much more leeway, and when his hand slipped somewhere it
didn’t belong, pausing for a bit as if to wait for her reaction, she didn’t
stop him.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEl_Au5E9gTDn36SdVPfTRXocceA6qhZkLmUEXfASmDEn3CcNlyFBr9KtVOFx8cwxKdcbGPCI1Oa-XKP5du5OPeVmyyj0I6deh_9d7mpf5bvZQqOUc7wde2oDZCasGR716LWuLSbvzF-s/s1600/318.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEl_Au5E9gTDn36SdVPfTRXocceA6qhZkLmUEXfASmDEn3CcNlyFBr9KtVOFx8cwxKdcbGPCI1Oa-XKP5du5OPeVmyyj0I6deh_9d7mpf5bvZQqOUc7wde2oDZCasGR716LWuLSbvzF-s/s640/318.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">To be honest, she had been rather
curious about this for quite some time. They were alone in the room, the lights
were dim, and the taste of the Deathflower Drops she had left unfinished on the
table still lingered on her tongue.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She saw no reason not to proceed.
She was ready for this. And yeah, sure, she didn’t ‘love’ Blake, but it had
never been about love in the first place. She was just curious, that’s all, and
she felt comfortable enough with him. Besides, she knew there would no talk of
touchy-feely emotions with him afterwards. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And well, she might as well try it
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sometime, </i>right?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A/N: “Sims who drink this won’t be
bored or lonely anytime soon.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I don’t know about everyone else,
but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>description always made me
feel like a Vial of Bliss is some kind of highly illegal drug. Which is why, in
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this </i>blog, it is. There are actually
quite a couple of things in the game that makes me raise my eyebrows at times,
so Mireille’s behaviour is actually a bit of a play on that. I mean, whoever
decided children aren’t allowed to drink <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">coffee
</i>but teens are allowed to order drinks from a bar?! I’m not complaining,
because it does give the potential for some lovely drama, but still. That logic
bugs me. XD</span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-68788902885595481352018-04-15T20:11:00.001+02:002018-04-15T20:11:51.912+02:00Legacy Sims - Download Reagan<!--[if !mso]>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Mention"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Smart Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0cm;
mso-para-margin-right:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:8.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0cm;
line-height:107%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-language:EN-US;}
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<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Never have I cursed the ‘Spare must leave within 24 hours’ rule as much
as I have with this guy. Nevertheless, he has officially left the house and now
he is officially available to whoever wants him. :)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Unlike Arienne</span></i><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">, I actually remembered to add Reagan’s special pattern as well, so he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>be dressed up in his fancy purple
when added to a different game. :D (Hopefully. I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no idea </i>where that pattern came from, so I just exported it directly
from the game. If it doesn’t show up, please let me know!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Note: All my sims use the same default eyes, which can be found here - [<a href="http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=475508"><span style="color: blue;">Eyes
- Tenti Oculos</span></a>]</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">You are welcome to use my sims in any way, be it
simple genetic donor or treasonous villain. You are also more than welcome to
edit them to your own preferences. I'd like to see what they get up to though,
if anyone decide to use them. </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Reagan Iverson – Generation 3 Spare </span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCmqUJfVZTbu3l_1HPmstqs4-0Q7yPtKfqKlEbfYlE23dSjBEKHha1TJUKzA1gyk1JiazfZLcITicvFW_iK28XYdByYgt-B5ypoY-fZjMRUCl_ZUpy-YmC05OF1PyaIQbq7GkKdYrQNQ/s1600/Reagan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyCmqUJfVZTbu3l_1HPmstqs4-0Q7yPtKfqKlEbfYlE23dSjBEKHha1TJUKzA1gyk1JiazfZLcITicvFW_iK28XYdByYgt-B5ypoY-fZjMRUCl_ZUpy-YmC05OF1PyaIQbq7GkKdYrQNQ/s1600/Reagan.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Traits:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> Brave, Eco-Friendly, Good, Loves the
Outdoors, Shy </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> <b>Lifetime Wish:</b>
World Renowned Surgeon</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> <b>Favourites:</b> Pancakes,
Songwriter, Purple </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-eqDXH4kvCD5u58CNIPoqzZPRKTN0R74uC4OiTrX3NFDgMj1Cf9n3E2IU55N8Xzu9c7HO4Ma4JZDmE1nXuAgoNDqyV9jBNJLFbVBg-9K__GV7433Ns2SOmJSXvjL7LaDmQ6VwkTcnEU/s1600/Screenshot+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-eqDXH4kvCD5u58CNIPoqzZPRKTN0R74uC4OiTrX3NFDgMj1Cf9n3E2IU55N8Xzu9c7HO4Ma4JZDmE1nXuAgoNDqyV9jBNJLFbVBg-9K__GV7433Ns2SOmJSXvjL7LaDmQ6VwkTcnEU/s640/Screenshot+-+Copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CC and Expansion Packs used:</b> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hair –</b> <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/file/jbjnu5w46e9eigj/%5Bginko%5DDS3_hair02_H%27ghar_M.package" target="_blank">[???]</a></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">(It’s Ginko’s hair02 H’ghar, buuut…the site doesn’t exist anymore. :(
Such a pity.)</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Skin –</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> <a href="http://modthesims.info/d/475132" target="_blank">[ESkin_Weak_Freckle] </a></span></div>
<a href="http://modthesims.info/d/475132" target="_blank"></a><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><b>Eyebrows -</b> <a href="http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_63f63ea901014ejx.html" target="_blank">[E-EyebrowsCollection]</a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">(Just run the site through Google Translate. Or click <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/file/orx1pfduoqklksp/E-EyebrowsCollection.rar" target="_blank">[here]</a> to grabby it, because the download link might be dead)</span></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Outfits:</i></b></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><b>Everyday</b> - Showtime<br />
<b>Formal </b>– Supernatural (Top), Late Night (Bottoms + Shoes) </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><b>Sleepwear </b>- Generations <br />
<b>Exercise </b>- Seasons<br />
<b>Swimwear </b>- Island Paradise<br />
<b>Outerwear </b>– Seasons (Top), Supernatural (Bottoms)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.simfileshare.net/download/501739/" target="_blank"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana", sans-serif; font-size: 18pt;">Download</span></i></b></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span></div>
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convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-79805595429387869922018-04-15T15:44:00.000+02:002018-04-15T15:44:36.461+02:00Chapter 3.17 - Running Wild<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">*Warning: Bad language. Hmm, it feels like it’s been a while since I needed one of these. XD</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Spring. It was acknowledged by all as the season of love; of growth and new life, of happiness and peace. It was the season flowers bloomed, birds grew more colourful, and strange inexplicable garden ornaments appeared as if from nowhere only to disappear minutes later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>the season of fighting. And yet, that was exactly the way the season started in the Marquel-Everhart household.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a familiar routine that always ended in the same way. Mireille stormed off to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Blaise stalked off to the outside, venting his frustrations against the wooden training dummy. Reagan would contemplate why Mireille had to be so difficult, and Lyra would sigh and wonder if there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>they could do to curb Mireille’s behaviour.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But nothing helped. Mireille was simply like the wind, unable to be tamed or held down. She exploded at the first thing to test her temper like a destructive whirlwind, and minutes later she’d be a sweet angel, showering her family with love and displays of affection like a whimsical breeze on a hot summer’s day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">At school she was always in the centre of attention, surrounded by friends and queen of her court. She obtained straight A’s, but frequently got detention for talking during class. She excelled in sport and debate, but constantly got in fights for flirting with other girls’ boyfriends. Not a day went by where Blaise or Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>get a call from the school, informing them of her deplorable behaviour.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Grounding didn’t help. She simply snuck out, and when the police brought her back for being out after curfew, she’d shrug indifferently and listen to her parents’ lectures with a bored expression on her face.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Extra chores didn’t help. She simply didn’t do them, letting the laundry and dirty dishes piles up until Reagan or Lyra decided they couldn’t handle it anymore and did it themselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Time out didn’t help. She simply ignored it, sneaking away the minute they took her eyes off her, and the next thing they knew an angry neighbour would be calling, informing them that their daughter had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">egged the neighbours’ house</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They were completely at wit’s end. They’d tried talking, lecturing, cajoling, and even pleading, but Mireille simply didn’t care. The only thing their continued efforts had done was to drive her to spend all her extra time away from the house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">In bars, clubs and pubs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">To make things worse, she never went alone. Joined by the hip as they were, she dragged her cousin with her wherever she went, and neither of them returned home until <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">long </i>after curfew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Arienne complained to Lyra during one of their monthly sibling get-togethers. “Lucinda doesn’t listen to us anymore, and nothing except grounding seems to help anymore, and that only for a couple of days before she starts misbehaving again. I don’t know what to do.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“At least grounding still helps,” Lyra pointed out with a grumble. “Grounding does absolutely nothing for Mireille. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nothing </i>helps with Mireille. She’s come home in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">police cruiser </i>a couple of times and she still just doesn’t care. If I knew how to get her to stop misbehaving, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">believe me</i>, I would’ve done it ages ago.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Give the girls some responsibility,” Renard suggested. “Maybe a pet, or something. It worked well enough with Alexis.” Lyra gave her brother a disdainful glare. She had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>heard of Renard’s daughter giving any problems like that, so what would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>know?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We already <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> a cat,” Lyra pointed out irritably. “And if we get any more pets it won’t be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mireille </i>looking after them. It’ll be Reagan, or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Then give her something to do,” Renard gave another suggestion, boredom colouring his voice. “She’s probably just bored, or she wants attention, and she’s thumbing her nose at you because she’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">getting </i>attention, even if its negative. The more time you actively spend with her, the less time she’ll have to get into trouble.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra’s temper flared at the subtle accusation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Are you saying I’m not spending enough time with my daughter?” she snapped at him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">saying</i>,” he interrupted, “the more someone keeps an eye on her the less she’ll get in trouble. At the end of the day, that’s something we all desire, isn’t it? Mireille stays out of trouble, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lucinda</i> will stay out of trouble, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>won’t have to arrest either of my nieces for underage drinking or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">heaven forbid</i>, underage sex.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra blanched and snapped her mouth shut, sickened by the implications. The girls were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fourteen</i>. They were far too young to be thinking about sex. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then again</i>, they were far too young to be thinking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">drinking </i>and Lyra already knew her daughter was going out doing just that. It didn’t matter that there was no respectable barman who would sell the girls drinks, because in the first place, there was no such <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i> as a respectable barman in the places the girls frequented, and secondly, Mireille was pretty and she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>how use that to her advantage. If things continued like this, it wouldn’t be long before the girl <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>end up warming somebody’s bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So that’s it?” she asked in frustration. “Your advice is to just ‘keep an eye on her’?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Renard shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8Z0ubRvffsk3yayKaIswmh1F41BvNpCSIjSfgP4GVdSsYj7ad2T-eSRzQYKTYmL8MVTKY3ZEY3w5JWDG28rJsDUNcIy8CVEmVaQz53tLCWYNVwmMbXlyCBkSH5zMtet1E1f0CrQ542k/s1600/317.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8Z0ubRvffsk3yayKaIswmh1F41BvNpCSIjSfgP4GVdSsYj7ad2T-eSRzQYKTYmL8MVTKY3ZEY3w5JWDG28rJsDUNcIy8CVEmVaQz53tLCWYNVwmMbXlyCBkSH5zMtet1E1f0CrQ542k/s640/317.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“My advice,” he stated after he swallowed, “is to make sure she’s too tired to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to go out, and when she does want to go, go with her. Take her to Mike’s. It’s got all the thrill and fun of an ‘adult’ place, but it’s respectable, and there’ll be more than enough people to keep an eye on her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra mulled over the idea as she sipped from her coffee. It was worth trying, at least.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille leaned on the railing, watching her dad pound the wooden dummy into oblivion. It was kind of mesmerizing to watch, and just a little bit cool. There was a sense of control and purpose in her dad’s movements that just looked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so cool</i>. She wondered, not for the first time, what he had been like when he lived on Howell Island. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>to have been one of the fighters, like Reagan’s dad. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYNmvmXMTWDzr710mzbzygcjD6HDlqvlcou4wkuenKvmIQWF7HUDFDze9P0bnCuHpHkrq3gsUzMSvxgMoF5nS3cZ2baBtZQubJYtN2ybj0e1WPvZyINHX5Hf1E87nNlMcel-yy_4q1Yk/s1600/317.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYNmvmXMTWDzr710mzbzygcjD6HDlqvlcou4wkuenKvmIQWF7HUDFDze9P0bnCuHpHkrq3gsUzMSvxgMoF5nS3cZ2baBtZQubJYtN2ybj0e1WPvZyINHX5Hf1E87nNlMcel-yy_4q1Yk/s640/317.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was even willing to bet he’d been a far <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better </i>fighter than Reagan’s dad. The photo in Reagan’s part of their room just seemed so…unimpressive. There were days she wondered if the man had even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>fought on Howell Island, because nobody that scrawny could be any good at fighting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But her dad…yeah, she could believe <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>had been a fighter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What was Howell Island like, dad?” she asked curiously, idly kicking at the floor planks. “How often did you fight?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her dad paused in his movements, looking at her with a slight frown on his face.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRHEXhRMVyM_h5RfDE7kSgF3zB6nnhhy5P38UB32Hs1N79vxIJdHxgwje-SNtFG97f7TeY9ugc3-Gx8hkeE_UvaJGPj1DrSJPnIwrup6f0k08UjZeIFiD7Ol3K6qnhWg-afmIivtJkys/s1600/317.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRHEXhRMVyM_h5RfDE7kSgF3zB6nnhhy5P38UB32Hs1N79vxIJdHxgwje-SNtFG97f7TeY9ugc3-Gx8hkeE_UvaJGPj1DrSJPnIwrup6f0k08UjZeIFiD7Ol3K6qnhWg-afmIivtJkys/s640/317.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I fought as often as was necessary,” her dad declared. “No more, no less. Why do you ask? Think fighting’s ‘cool’?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille gave a half-hearted shrug.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, yeah, a little,” she admitted. “It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">looks </i>cool. But to be honest, I can’t see what’s so fun about fighting against a wooden post.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The frown between her dad’s brows deepened.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IhdmR-K0BUB1ChHVEhiJIbbGdpy6EBsR_fnCJ_HxjOqtCHPCsfclFPc1w84oulH7fPC9Qi1BmVhnVmAD1_lW6nuHao7RNmDIbh3PI9GfM8nuoftEZjQ8KeQmJoruDe6dVFtWpA-02Ec/s1600/317.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IhdmR-K0BUB1ChHVEhiJIbbGdpy6EBsR_fnCJ_HxjOqtCHPCsfclFPc1w84oulH7fPC9Qi1BmVhnVmAD1_lW6nuHao7RNmDIbh3PI9GfM8nuoftEZjQ8KeQmJoruDe6dVFtWpA-02Ec/s640/317.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fighting isn’t about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>, or being ‘cool’, Mireille,” her dad admonished. “It’s about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">protecting, </i>yourself and others. Your first reason for fighting should <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>be because it’s ‘cool’ or ‘fun’.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yet you and mom constantly fight. For <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>,” Mireille pointed out, referring to her parents’ daily sparring sessions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re not –“ Her dad sighed with irritation and rubbed his forehead. “We’re not fighting for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun, </i>Mireille. We’re sparring. There’s a difference.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So…you’re not ‘sparring’ because it’s fun?” Mireille correctly sweetly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her dad sighed resignedly, correctly predicting where the conversation was leading.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXI4fX96wwkLYdK-GLQcYwZex3CINEWqztf_BDEWzUf9qXo3F1AGnMqBK8Mm4gTmwqSXJ8vow6MIFNPTloGKUCVG8iOdQCNF6v8OX8TNunTD8Ip_yxdeliZ6LKoJE2g4sb2y_BXqTAOY/s1600/317.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXI4fX96wwkLYdK-GLQcYwZex3CINEWqztf_BDEWzUf9qXo3F1AGnMqBK8Mm4gTmwqSXJ8vow6MIFNPTloGKUCVG8iOdQCNF6v8OX8TNunTD8Ip_yxdeliZ6LKoJE2g4sb2y_BXqTAOY/s640/317.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sparring </i>because it’s a way to keep our skills sharp,” her dad argued. “It’s about being in control. It’s about being challenged and pushed to our limits, so that when the time comes we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to fight, we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i>. Come here.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille eyed her dad suspiciously, but obeyed his order without complaint. To her confusion, when she stood in front of him, he turned back to the training dummy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Have your mother ever told you how her dad died?” he asked her softly as he started fighting the dummy again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille reeled back, completely caught off guard by the question.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU8QHKtdrNizF7FV_KF5gHUW7kz8Zi4J9qhyphenhyphencpfAIAkwm-57JZycEIsrqEiY7DnRenx6cCM-hBq4ebXJw2DXbBz5VyANI_g-CXFd9dcqm1h9QP09XOaKiNb6xOb7NhqRHlCDH40bXPV8/s1600/317.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU8QHKtdrNizF7FV_KF5gHUW7kz8Zi4J9qhyphenhyphencpfAIAkwm-57JZycEIsrqEiY7DnRenx6cCM-hBq4ebXJw2DXbBz5VyANI_g-CXFd9dcqm1h9QP09XOaKiNb6xOb7NhqRHlCDH40bXPV8/s640/317.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Of course her mom hadn’t. Her mom <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>talked about him. It had been years before Mireille had even found out her granddad had died when her mom had been just a teen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not really my story to tell, but it’s one I want you to know.” Her dad seemed to know the answer, as he continued speaking, falling into an easy rhythm against the dummy. “Your grandfather was a peaceful man. He loved his family, and he adored his children. He was not a fighter, but when they were in danger he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fought </i>to protect his family. As a result, he saved those precious to him,” he stopped moving and allowed the dummy to spin in place, “but in the process, he lost his life.” </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgKtAiPG7UEKj5hLXYPOfzuYoPRiwQnW6fvVEhgopTEMWzQ7c25P4Y1RCWGRfQHaNUGBzXQ9V-3Z5YJSV-HNkdq7QjZN6G6i7DS-Sz_Xrlo10XiAJciKcsn3hNfVx146ggcvSLJr0JmQ/s1600/317.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgKtAiPG7UEKj5hLXYPOfzuYoPRiwQnW6fvVEhgopTEMWzQ7c25P4Y1RCWGRfQHaNUGBzXQ9V-3Z5YJSV-HNkdq7QjZN6G6i7DS-Sz_Xrlo10XiAJciKcsn3hNfVx146ggcvSLJr0JmQ/s640/317.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille blinked in surprise. Her granddad had died <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fighting</i>? She’d always thought he died from illness, or some kind of freak accident. The man in the photo on her mom’s bedtable looked so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gentle</i>. She would never have guessed he had died in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fight</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If your grandfather had possessed even a tenth of the skill your mom does today,” her dad continued, “he would not have died that day. He would’ve gone home to his family and save them from years of endless grief. But he didn’t have the skill or the experience, so he died and his family was torn apart. And he’s not the only one. Even Reagan’s dad died because he went into a fight, unprepared and out of practice.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He placed his hand on the nape of her neck, his calloused hand warm and firm against her neck, but strangely gentle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Fighting is not about having ‘fun’ or being ‘cool’, Mireille,” he repeated softly. “It’s about protecting what you care about, and about walking away from a dangerous situation, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alive</i>. Do you understand?”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD68xRc-z1uGCTbQF1So05zp0Ld13t7Mp3ojuewUBeouRLEjLe9Ue1DrEkjF1mgSDeiX2y_eSyTaFo8l1ZSMhqpzJ-0g1Gp6lnH9Pmsc7ovypngG7dKHCFbc2R-IAoJG1alv3XFt3nzFw/s1600/317.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD68xRc-z1uGCTbQF1So05zp0Ld13t7Mp3ojuewUBeouRLEjLe9Ue1DrEkjF1mgSDeiX2y_eSyTaFo8l1ZSMhqpzJ-0g1Gp6lnH9Pmsc7ovypngG7dKHCFbc2R-IAoJG1alv3XFt3nzFw/s640/317.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille nodded, understanding his point, even if she didn’t agree with it herself. Not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>fights were about life or death. She’d been in quite a couple of fights, and there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>dangerous about them. It was something she did to blow off steam, because it was…fun…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…but that was just it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be </i>fun. What kind of person did that make her, that she enjoyed picking fights? What did it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">say </i>about her, that she enjoyed hurting others for no reason?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She didn’t know, but for the first time, she felt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so ashamed</i>.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyEgPyZBzQTt0fJIOo0wXstVZ_fJVHDn2368x3R4B6e-Pw1IJrKibhoRL-LccTUp-hFR4dIXOcIb-1VoJMJDrFOSnWuyRIj9LLK8IgjNyx7sl7sm3Fg49FmUK25qHVBR6SNp1s0Emmbs/s1600/317.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyEgPyZBzQTt0fJIOo0wXstVZ_fJVHDn2368x3R4B6e-Pw1IJrKibhoRL-LccTUp-hFR4dIXOcIb-1VoJMJDrFOSnWuyRIj9LLK8IgjNyx7sl7sm3Fg49FmUK25qHVBR6SNp1s0Emmbs/s640/317.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her side of her dad’s mouth quirked up in approval.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good,” he approved. “I can teach you how to fight, if you want to learn. But if you do, I want you to promise me that you will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>use the skills I teach you for the wrong reasons. Can you promise me that?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She should’ve jumped at the chance. Her father was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good </i>fighter, and if he taught her, she doubted she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>lose a fight again. But she was no saint, and she was well aware of how short her temper was. She didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I think…not today,” she admitted shamefully. “I want to learn, I really do, but…”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR-L6OXbiteRr9mFMlc76rsRPQlfXMoowWTIQoU5J4gFJVYp2cMsJPJ3ATXeL0b8MxJncXyjx8kQQqUMDEQ81kojq2QMa1HHFjrZ8TIcWk8KnbJuZJnd-kZneHVV-WkmOpBl7eXfVvds/s1600/317.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR-L6OXbiteRr9mFMlc76rsRPQlfXMoowWTIQoU5J4gFJVYp2cMsJPJ3ATXeL0b8MxJncXyjx8kQQqUMDEQ81kojq2QMa1HHFjrZ8TIcWk8KnbJuZJnd-kZneHVV-WkmOpBl7eXfVvds/s640/317.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“…but you don’t think you’ll be able to keep that promise,” her dad finished. His tone of voice was neutral and understanding, but at the same time Mireille could feel the weight of his disappointment on her shoulders, and she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t like it</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was the first time it mattered to her that she had disappointed her dad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“…yes,” she admitted, utterly ashamed of herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I see,” her dad said, and wordlessly turned back to the dummy, filling the air once again with the sound of flesh hitting wood. Mireille walked away without another word, feeling like her relationship with her dad had taken a big knock.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvBBdBJEXk8VdSi23bvmM3iwdAaUXd7Br5BNeB5YiZJz69GB4ds9GqJvZNvgn0gNj68xBh5P1VFPPeDSSKx5F1ri-M_74Z0JeuZghdDibVdB-yUM4CmH1przeWypztLYGBeNUOlIemIw/s1600/317.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvBBdBJEXk8VdSi23bvmM3iwdAaUXd7Br5BNeB5YiZJz69GB4ds9GqJvZNvgn0gNj68xBh5P1VFPPeDSSKx5F1ri-M_74Z0JeuZghdDibVdB-yUM4CmH1przeWypztLYGBeNUOlIemIw/s640/317.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It surprised her when she realised her cheeks were wet with tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan sat on his bed, studying the mementoes of his life that was proudly displayed in his half of the bedroom he shared with Mireille. Disregarding the photos of his parents, to any other person the stuff in his room probably looked like a bunch of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">junk</i>, but they were all precious to him nevertheless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The geode had been the very first gem he ever found, back in elementary school after he had just joined the boy scouts club. The luminorious gem had been a gift from Mireille, and the diamond had been a lucky find on the riverbank. The sunstone he had searched long and hard for still missed its moon-variant, but he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>going to find one. He’d been looking for one for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ages</i>.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu92e9OgSSs-xd56Wvg5k-uQC7Ghj1GP_-xufG3Lq3ieLGBEXAVT4Ykqp8eBnu-lgR9oFvehrVdILVF7OsecXDPnnCjSpUmDa2ftr6meB_H64OgLopQatfckTPsdCc5bMzIk-gBd_9aw/s1600/317.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiu92e9OgSSs-xd56Wvg5k-uQC7Ghj1GP_-xufG3Lq3ieLGBEXAVT4Ykqp8eBnu-lgR9oFvehrVdILVF7OsecXDPnnCjSpUmDa2ftr6meB_H64OgLopQatfckTPsdCc5bMzIk-gBd_9aw/s640/317.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The water beetle on his shelf lived in the cage that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">used </i>to hold the cockroach that had been the very first insect he’d ever caught. He could still remember Lyra’s absolute revulsion when she’d seen the insect, but she’d never forbidden him from keeping it. The butterfly on his bookshelf had been the very first thing he’d transmuted with magic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The broken statue had been a little puzzle he wanted to solve, but he’d never found the final missing piece. The deceptively light meteor had intrigued him since forever. It was just mind-boggling that something so large could be so light.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokHfqhuwZmi1mItUvSPw0x9hfDrrQi5uX7Me7X-18cJ3C-vBBYtWPSGAIy4Sm60PubKA7pmV6bpXhZCz197ohZkUvnaO49O6UevwOUQyABC2m5fG4jJ1ML_qTL0p6lLsfqndUFRzB768/s1600/317.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokHfqhuwZmi1mItUvSPw0x9hfDrrQi5uX7Me7X-18cJ3C-vBBYtWPSGAIy4Sm60PubKA7pmV6bpXhZCz197ohZkUvnaO49O6UevwOUQyABC2m5fG4jJ1ML_qTL0p6lLsfqndUFRzB768/s640/317.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They were all so very important to him. Funny to think that soon, he’d have to leave them all behind. Today had been his very last day at school, and tomorrow…tomorrow he’d be off to university, where he was going to study to become a doctor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He was still a little bit in disbelieve. He hadn’t really thought he’d gain admission, but he’d been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">accepted</i>. He’d made the cut. Now, he could start on his dream of helping those in need, and making others happy. The future just seemed so bright and full of opportunity. He couldn’t wait.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWG5Y8UZ4m9YKdmNkswU1Qs-Udn6AdHMqAvz2Zwr_ucOeWxiL_3m2tr_3sMlXUxZTaJT3mOY9wQpZyf5ojcqvJhRJJYU-XkgIdv_2YL7KsK1fC3kqOo8n5lwt0uVbm2pwsR4yMjNPtFk/s1600/317.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWG5Y8UZ4m9YKdmNkswU1Qs-Udn6AdHMqAvz2Zwr_ucOeWxiL_3m2tr_3sMlXUxZTaJT3mOY9wQpZyf5ojcqvJhRJJYU-XkgIdv_2YL7KsK1fC3kqOo8n5lwt0uVbm2pwsR4yMjNPtFk/s640/317.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His eyes lingered on the photos of his parents for a moment, studying the familiar faces. They’d been looking over him for as long as he could remember. As a child he’d gazed long hours at those photos, searching for his own features in those faces and wishing so hard that they could’ve been there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He wondered what they would think of him, if they could see him now. Would they be proud of him? Probably. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was someone else he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>was proud of him, and it didn’t matter one bit that they didn’t share blood. Blood didn’t make a family. Love did. Memories did. The people in the photos in front of him were nothing more than what-could’ve-beens, and he wouldn’t change his what-has-beens for anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Reagan! Dinner time!” Lyra’s voice called out from the kitchen, and Reagan easily tore himself away from the photos. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88LnNMjDcziHPN6sr68IdT6qmVxZ_H5AvSDaw4MwiOWwZSWF8eqj6OEG7BqYsDMIpY8giD6q-0h7zS4YIn3opPeiPcb6mVOxCz4GImaXWKl-JL2IanCw4uYDBLn6AmmQutMHULsqx8xk/s1600/317.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88LnNMjDcziHPN6sr68IdT6qmVxZ_H5AvSDaw4MwiOWwZSWF8eqj6OEG7BqYsDMIpY8giD6q-0h7zS4YIn3opPeiPcb6mVOxCz4GImaXWKl-JL2IanCw4uYDBLn6AmmQutMHULsqx8xk/s640/317.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His last night at home was bittersweet. It wasn’t different than any other night, but the knowledge it would be the last time gave him that homesick feeling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He made sure to play with Kiki one last time.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LXVa3xStoR9ruTru8gi-ybE_fUNNSMTiTjfXoQaH9C_-a4XiFm2Kt90QQjYDVhRU-KXnofdaLC-icIDUnD6HuQWBPwPjF0UY4qsCi9rB2OjIY3UYICEUxChr4o3jvAFcdNygCst1OWs/s1600/317.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1LXVa3xStoR9ruTru8gi-ybE_fUNNSMTiTjfXoQaH9C_-a4XiFm2Kt90QQjYDVhRU-KXnofdaLC-icIDUnD6HuQWBPwPjF0UY4qsCi9rB2OjIY3UYICEUxChr4o3jvAFcdNygCst1OWs/s640/317.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And fly Ignis.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmOXH8AKUF7grAHCO7lCtXGWMlk1l5WDLSztWc8o1XgsXnycncAXrKi13Zr5i5cmBmGBeE27iqlMkyErB3HpIPqpYVmQTKf6Yn2QDR-J12FPRFC9FzcWGzwyhaCVBRJ6YW3dftPg6Njo/s1600/317.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmOXH8AKUF7grAHCO7lCtXGWMlk1l5WDLSztWc8o1XgsXnycncAXrKi13Zr5i5cmBmGBeE27iqlMkyErB3HpIPqpYVmQTKf6Yn2QDR-J12FPRFC9FzcWGzwyhaCVBRJ6YW3dftPg6Njo/s640/317.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And play video games with Mireille.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiZHJbXDiA3fqNtDi1xA2oUASmM9mVmlx74ijj0prcJ_IX_T2PsMd_5oS9qfVLP2OIb-dnv_rn75y9EaZ0yt3-AJPprF8y4uxzau62DB7qbKdZLB0N826e46h-yjW22Nx9WRTDkwlXQk/s1600/317.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiZHJbXDiA3fqNtDi1xA2oUASmM9mVmlx74ijj0prcJ_IX_T2PsMd_5oS9qfVLP2OIb-dnv_rn75y9EaZ0yt3-AJPprF8y4uxzau62DB7qbKdZLB0N826e46h-yjW22Nx9WRTDkwlXQk/s640/317.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But all too soon night arrived, and early the next morning, before the sun even rose, it was time to pursue his dreams and the rest of his life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Thanks, Lyra,” he gratefully hugged his mother-in-all-but-blood, his eyes stinging with tears. “For everything. I’m really going to miss you.”</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvrFPGRN47gIpbYLJ6EO6sDTaJv6cyfHoL9x0QxLP0WoOvYMu9jH6Z5nKUDS1wpzYZeCWEZUuB_bnU8ftE2nO8r-udBe64kKForO5YgSF2-WNCGZa08S4nnTKxstWdxwRKWJ7dOItVTJM/s1600/317.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvrFPGRN47gIpbYLJ6EO6sDTaJv6cyfHoL9x0QxLP0WoOvYMu9jH6Z5nKUDS1wpzYZeCWEZUuB_bnU8ftE2nO8r-udBe64kKForO5YgSF2-WNCGZa08S4nnTKxstWdxwRKWJ7dOItVTJM/s640/317.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hopefully, not that much,” Lyra laughed at him, patting his back. “We’ll see you soon, won’t we? Before you know, you’ll be done with uni and you’ll be back here in Moonlight Falls, right?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Right,” Reagan laughed, a little sheepish. It felt like good-bye, but really, it was just a temporary separation. He knew he’d always be welcomed back home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Have fun at university, Reagan,” Lyra wished him, her eyes soft and gentle. “And don’t forget to call, okay? We’ll be waiting.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgnMYy1nirEnOQ9DXJRWaup7lLGJVSblDFT2StH4tAGBRBL-jD3CPGYafkHTopkrgbpFSj1LCHAwJOhGhoj08UAN2O5PNwnDH5ThTvX4BtpOedJn4EnJhUFKA2SRxco3RV7TOYNEdNdo/s1600/317.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgnMYy1nirEnOQ9DXJRWaup7lLGJVSblDFT2StH4tAGBRBL-jD3CPGYafkHTopkrgbpFSj1LCHAwJOhGhoj08UAN2O5PNwnDH5ThTvX4BtpOedJn4EnJhUFKA2SRxco3RV7TOYNEdNdo/s640/317.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Of course,” Reagan promised earnestly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Now go,” Lyra sniffed, her eyes suspiciously wet, “before I start crying. Take care, okay? We’ll see you soon.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okay,” Reagan agreed and gave her a farewell hug. “Bye, Mom.” He whispered the words softly, more to himself than Lyra, giving in to that little wish of his. He always wanted to call her his mother, but he’d always been a little afraid.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dQ9s345DRezOeD_gFdEeUyWBiBqqCgCp0WPXuru5Ulz9vDFoO6og7Z84iHfU88bhyUUKaKA3gFyjJ-JS9RMTyikHaAZgVeCu9eZnmN-XkyC5sXrXBsvofJKPYYGEdxVWoRaoi9D9nyU/s1600/317.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7dQ9s345DRezOeD_gFdEeUyWBiBqqCgCp0WPXuru5Ulz9vDFoO6og7Z84iHfU88bhyUUKaKA3gFyjJ-JS9RMTyikHaAZgVeCu9eZnmN-XkyC5sXrXBsvofJKPYYGEdxVWoRaoi9D9nyU/s640/317.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She must’ve heard him, because her arms tightened further around him, and he was pretty sure he felt his shoulder grow wet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Bye, sweet-heart,” she returned thickly, and soon it was Blaise’s turn. If it had been difficult saying good-bye to Lyra, Reagan knew it would be ten times worse with Blaise. Blaise had always been the one who understood him best.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbS2h6AAs2ZYujozq-Kdt80CWdkgrQczCYpf_kfNNM52ZGJ1Q66njtfdv2qShZuS_yZeePUqz5sbrmOFc43Mg-R5TkhHz9koKMsWCZYAv4wq9HrUEb-BBucos7J9caeWbZAHq7FE7ZE0M/s1600/317.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbS2h6AAs2ZYujozq-Kdt80CWdkgrQczCYpf_kfNNM52ZGJ1Q66njtfdv2qShZuS_yZeePUqz5sbrmOFc43Mg-R5TkhHz9koKMsWCZYAv4wq9HrUEb-BBucos7J9caeWbZAHq7FE7ZE0M/s640/317.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise gave him that familiar half-smile of his and pulled him into a one-armed hug.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Take care, son,” he murmured and pulled away from the hug, but Reagan felt his heart swell with happiness. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Son</i>. How badly had he wished to hear that word from the man in front of him. “We’ll see you soon.” He gave a brusque nod and Reagan knew that was the only good-bye he’d get.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But that was fine. He didn’t need anything more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">“See you soon,” Reagan returned the nod, and set off to follow his dreams with a smile.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWIsBXKVlsVm0qK_qnScIh0YI8CgIxME5uKk72n8-2_JsB8awC4Ql7OsvGhQKkp3tOmomhimjjiIT6HXa3G0Ef-kJhQZhVLzrpC51DUytHu_o60bCnqIae_fA4Z7h79Nq933oK4AOgD8/s1600/317.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWIsBXKVlsVm0qK_qnScIh0YI8CgIxME5uKk72n8-2_JsB8awC4Ql7OsvGhQKkp3tOmomhimjjiIT6HXa3G0Ef-kJhQZhVLzrpC51DUytHu_o60bCnqIae_fA4Z7h79Nq933oK4AOgD8/s640/317.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille looked around the room. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her </i>room. Reagan was gone now, so that meant the entire room now belonged to her. All his little knick-knacks were still in the room, sitting on his dresser and on his shelves, but the dresser was emptied of clothes and the bed was stripped bare of his familiar purple bedding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was, to be honest, just a little bit lonely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She forcefully shook off the melancholy. Her room now. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hers</i>. Now she could have friends over, or prance around naked if she wanted. There was no risk of her pseudo-brother walking in on her anymore, and she no longer had to knock before entering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bliss</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Nobody to snitch on her if she wasn’t in bed by ten. Or out of bed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">after </i>ten. Like now.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0kr0QFNahA73rgB6kJHj-IOPUF8K1UcvWgZkZ3Z699OVnfSHlp5khkce8PkNDRC2mTw34CB1Za8_9tHX_swtLTq6Salf2f5csaRW9XFoG812hosqV2_MPc_bjU63SF3Oy-P_p0PPWhQ/s1600/317.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0kr0QFNahA73rgB6kJHj-IOPUF8K1UcvWgZkZ3Z699OVnfSHlp5khkce8PkNDRC2mTw34CB1Za8_9tHX_swtLTq6Salf2f5csaRW9XFoG812hosqV2_MPc_bjU63SF3Oy-P_p0PPWhQ/s640/317.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She twirled around in front of the mirror, winking at the sight that met her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Perfect</i>. She critically tugged the front of her dress down just a little bit before smiling in satisfaction. It was time to paint the town <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">red</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The house was dark as she quietly slipped out of her room, tiptoeing past her parents’ room and praying that the floorboards wouldn’t squeak and alert them of her intentions. She cautiously glanced around the dark living room before smirking. The coast was all clear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lucinda was already waiting for her at the place they’d agreed to meet at. Varg’s Tavern was one of their old haunts – it had all the things a young girl with a thirst for partying needed. Dim lights, loud music, games galore, bartenders who didn’t ID…what more could a girl want?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oq-E2t1z8MFswSJORf9p4xJfj8wTMtTB_fCKzAtS_d124FUfifPBtC2lX3plWGyHazU86VR5pi-Zsq8NwAmDVig9jtWwzibdP07jZcUcpoykiJhRsUrt1JWl_SAbTLqiAqjqWNo6hGE/s1600/317.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oq-E2t1z8MFswSJORf9p4xJfj8wTMtTB_fCKzAtS_d124FUfifPBtC2lX3plWGyHazU86VR5pi-Zsq8NwAmDVig9jtWwzibdP07jZcUcpoykiJhRsUrt1JWl_SAbTLqiAqjqWNo6hGE/s640/317.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She could feel the eyes on her the moment they walked into the pub. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loved </i>being in the centre of attention. There were even a couple of faces in the crowd she recognised!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Tonight was going to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>. She didn’t have to buy herself a single drink, as there were more than enough guys who wanted the attention of a pretty girl. She flirted shamelessly where she could, and when she got the attention she wanted she’d them the cold shoulder and go to dance on her own.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyEuQ3r-HpMxNXDwUQ6dpFnD6bbbZH0LnACg_1Ni9inSK4NRvLDHwT_5-Pkzg9lGX8qOluicjDmEM1NcpNFzxtYXrfrBP5CvgyrteIAu4KCq_Yl06eL8zJr-cWdy3YsVVdeC1d-k-KMc/s1600/317.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyEuQ3r-HpMxNXDwUQ6dpFnD6bbbZH0LnACg_1Ni9inSK4NRvLDHwT_5-Pkzg9lGX8qOluicjDmEM1NcpNFzxtYXrfrBP5CvgyrteIAu4KCq_Yl06eL8zJr-cWdy3YsVVdeC1d-k-KMc/s640/317.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>much more fun than being at home. And interesting. There were a lot of things she was curious about, and some of them she might even get answers for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Like kissing. She was kinda curious about the whole kissing thing. She wasn’t like all the hopeless romantic saps in her class who were ‘waiting for the one’ or freaking out because ‘it’s my first kiss!’ or sentimental crap like that. She was just curious. She just wanted to know what it was all about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">So she indulged herself, and, well. It was fun.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVFMpNn4jVFmX-MguefO4PxAq5okULkiGfA7aXj62sVRpUI0A1WEITPmio3e7Gh5NYgTA5gQyU49Ms83IKIvj-RgKSvPp6sLLCcXZr6o8aSIPtqQrE8PbGRvvLsY-t98R4c2wThV8br8/s1600/317.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVFMpNn4jVFmX-MguefO4PxAq5okULkiGfA7aXj62sVRpUI0A1WEITPmio3e7Gh5NYgTA5gQyU49Ms83IKIvj-RgKSvPp6sLLCcXZr6o8aSIPtqQrE8PbGRvvLsY-t98R4c2wThV8br8/s640/317.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Why would she want to deprive herself of such an interesting activity? Even if the pick-up lines were dumb. Okay, maybe she secretly enjoyed those stupid pick-up lines. They were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">funny</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">By the time the pub closed and kicked everybody out, Mireille was buzzed, mellow and happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lucinda smirked at her, equally as buzzed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“That was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>,” Lucinda declared with sparkling eyes. “Are we going home now? Or are we gonna check out some other places?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille tapped her chin, seriously considering the question. She didn’t really want to go home yet, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but</i>…it was getting pretty late, and her dad was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ridiculously </i>early riser. She did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>want to get caught.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-cXsGxzZfpbM94Kayy4CPsybAMx8Bkdx_yVCkXh6lmoFGM5fWa9mI1jzwHp89Dj9HuyG8J4U_UQ3S15cwhJHbTY7JOwGFVPlphOo7i6-xDYQOthbeJsiry33wfH1sqzrTYE8wXwpzng/s1600/317.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-cXsGxzZfpbM94Kayy4CPsybAMx8Bkdx_yVCkXh6lmoFGM5fWa9mI1jzwHp89Dj9HuyG8J4U_UQ3S15cwhJHbTY7JOwGFVPlphOo7i6-xDYQOthbeJsiry33wfH1sqzrTYE8wXwpzng/s640/317.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nah, I think let’s stop here,” she suggested. “We can always check out some other places tomorrow, right?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sure,” Lucinda agreed easily. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And that was that. Who knew where they’d end up tomorrow?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wait </i>to find out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Turned out, they ended up somewhere boring. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mike’s</i>. It had been one of the first places they’d checked out, and they’d both very quickly agreed that Mike’s Karaoke was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boring</i>. Only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">old </i>people went there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But apparently their parents had decided to have a night out with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">family</i> and they had to go with. So there they were. Stuck. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">What a nightmare.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEh9biJ9e6d4KrIjetkcn2mgSEYiisB4kXU4YWKVxnqLy8OFs_8D2DXJuZdEGmA7QVlhGgRwFhlhJssj5IPL1A268wAFnrAC6Ch5w_rEDrDMaSq1PCvSKBIXncPC5zK1KuBnIbsea9sJ4/s1600/317.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEh9biJ9e6d4KrIjetkcn2mgSEYiisB4kXU4YWKVxnqLy8OFs_8D2DXJuZdEGmA7QVlhGgRwFhlhJssj5IPL1A268wAFnrAC6Ch5w_rEDrDMaSq1PCvSKBIXncPC5zK1KuBnIbsea9sJ4/s640/317.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Think we’ll be able to slip away, sometime?” Lucinda whispered to her cousin. Mireille contemplated the idea, but the hawk’s eye her dad kept on her made her seriously doubt the possibility. She regretfully shook her head.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Not while <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they’re </i>here,” she decided. “Let’s just ignore them and try to have fun, okay?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lucinda wrinkled her nose at the suggestion, but knew that was the best she’d get.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They tried to have fun. Really, they did. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They tried karaoke, which was fun, but a bit kiddy-like.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOV3UI6tNB_uE-P2xYZ-cwoVitAr6zItUfEgM9sx211EB37fXSaVKfYjll-wVwP70gi-DqnZnhLBQSCcUxKnqgPJ3M6x_eBF4iGjuw9_RgtrJ1pZUQNbyjiiGHT17uts1mqUAh182wU0Y/s1600/317.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOV3UI6tNB_uE-P2xYZ-cwoVitAr6zItUfEgM9sx211EB37fXSaVKfYjll-wVwP70gi-DqnZnhLBQSCcUxKnqgPJ3M6x_eBF4iGjuw9_RgtrJ1pZUQNbyjiiGHT17uts1mqUAh182wU0Y/s640/317.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They tried dancing, but there was nobody to dance with.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa_GyE8jvZLB6V4DpfOwIWJZ3vbTDoPcHFHD-WDcdB0Twb8Tu7lSPw8tlJwjDM17vjkD-z9NMtSVybjZeJNI2JFdP-gsNrX4Sis4wJ1vZumh2cV8tk04K5-DMKyOh621QdF5L6QZhNZY/s1600/317.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa_GyE8jvZLB6V4DpfOwIWJZ3vbTDoPcHFHD-WDcdB0Twb8Tu7lSPw8tlJwjDM17vjkD-z9NMtSVybjZeJNI2JFdP-gsNrX4Sis4wJ1vZumh2cV8tk04K5-DMKyOh621QdF5L6QZhNZY/s640/317.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They played a bit of pool, but again, no boys to flirt with.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqAk7Xsu9RftRFMzAmnHubIx_68extnS0rEC1JOt-izofgxp0n3wXVnyZdmD40hXfbU4trGy53L5tpPwylZQVHFe1w9drjrzTKmBEXCCxYzgUXbZ2XIsdDH-sxyLdST8JeRYJAiwJOzpU/s1600/317.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqAk7Xsu9RftRFMzAmnHubIx_68extnS0rEC1JOt-izofgxp0n3wXVnyZdmD40hXfbU4trGy53L5tpPwylZQVHFe1w9drjrzTKmBEXCCxYzgUXbZ2XIsdDH-sxyLdST8JeRYJAiwJOzpU/s640/317.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was just all so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boring</i>. No drinks. No cute boys to flirt with. No <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kissing</i>. Just…old people and boring music. Why would anybody come to this dump? It certainly wasn’t to have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>. There was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>interesting going on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hi there,” a voice chirped up from behind Mireille. “Want to play some pool? We can split the cost.” She looked up at the speaker over her Spline Reticulator (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">virgin, </i>ugh), eyebrows raised questioningly. It took her about half a second to recognise the speaker. Jeanne Mattell, class nerd and bookworm, teacher’s little pet. Also, the girlfriend of the guy she flirted with last week. The guy she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">made out with </i>last night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Territorial little bitch. Wonder if she knew about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh wait,” Jeanne immediately backtracked, her voice filled with dislike, “it’s you. Never mind. I don’t want wanton little slags joining my game anyway.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmPm6x30RwhLQFEhYpuem0FYt6L1Q7FjhJ5gTiRR-xIF380O7HCha22KBAnMUNwCDowdUTAw65WQbIqRHErXfkdojTJHY12EDUqblUbCfyWIHCd0F6iXshOh_j_qReDLrerzCUpNvY18/s1600/317.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmPm6x30RwhLQFEhYpuem0FYt6L1Q7FjhJ5gTiRR-xIF380O7HCha22KBAnMUNwCDowdUTAw65WQbIqRHErXfkdojTJHY12EDUqblUbCfyWIHCd0F6iXshOh_j_qReDLrerzCUpNvY18/s640/317.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille tilted her head and smirked, eyes glinting dangerously. Oh, there was no way she was gonna let <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> one go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Really?” she asked, voice dripping with sugar. “I guess that means your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boyfriend</i> can’t join either, considering he was all over me last night, like a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanton little slag</i>. You know, he’s got this interesting little thing he does with his tongue that’s– “</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">With a shriek of rage, Jeanne launched herself at Mireille.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good, satisfying </i>fight. The bitch totally deserved it. Their screams echoed all over the venue as they scratched at and tugged each other’s hair, yelling insults and derogatory terms all the way and attracting the attention of everybody else in the karaoke bar. Lucinda and a couple of other guys their age cheered and egged them on, and Mireille used the opportunity to get rid of all her pent-up frustrations. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIX-ePp4TxmJ9DdUrn3mxnhR7JhkTXp3pUSB5vI5iHp75HiQVedRgbbgXoB1fEk-C0ZWpOy-Re7Zz7bZMlfDjD21cQTl4zxbvyxyIpE8TwdngH-8v7Mtw8WN2u2OY-n_6oXGZ5lwI6W8M/s1600/317.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIX-ePp4TxmJ9DdUrn3mxnhR7JhkTXp3pUSB5vI5iHp75HiQVedRgbbgXoB1fEk-C0ZWpOy-Re7Zz7bZMlfDjD21cQTl4zxbvyxyIpE8TwdngH-8v7Mtw8WN2u2OY-n_6oXGZ5lwI6W8M/s640/317.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">That would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">teach </i>the bitch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her glee was short-lived when strong hands firmly pulled the two teenagers apart, breaking the fight. Mireille tossed her dishevelled hair across her shoulder and gave the other girl another hateful glare before she took note of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who </i>had broken the fight apart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her face blanched, draining of all colour. She didn’t think she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>seen her dad so angry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so, so </i>much trouble.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jE-CVQ0EyuS1bvMN92v2q2cdHXcLI3Ecuuw26ZI8NQwy6y_YOo33nRFAeRu4sf2XaNSHw7FIBvfTUQ-BJPNYnPY3z-l0aDo-ilu_DY0ZSIqrWXQhrB-9UrYscVomBz-SHUhBP3cPqrs/s1600/317.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jE-CVQ0EyuS1bvMN92v2q2cdHXcLI3Ecuuw26ZI8NQwy6y_YOo33nRFAeRu4sf2XaNSHw7FIBvfTUQ-BJPNYnPY3z-l0aDo-ilu_DY0ZSIqrWXQhrB-9UrYscVomBz-SHUhBP3cPqrs/s640/317.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: And Mireille can’t even let her parents have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one </i>night of peace. XD</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Spoiler: Reagan doesn’t really go to uni. He’s just following the well-known rule of ‘All spares must leave the house within 24 hours of their age-up’. I’m really, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>going to miss him. He’s the first spare I’ve ever had real difficulty letting go of. T_T I was almost tempted to break the rules just to keep him around, but even if I did break the rules for him, he wouldn’t fit in with Mireille’s roll any way. Such a pity :(</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">But oh gosh. Mireille is <em>fun</em>. She's constantly pulling the most amazing expressions. I blame those eyebrows of hers. XD</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-8527930586411542802018-03-15T20:14:00.000+02:002018-03-17T09:33:56.662+02:00Chapter 3.16 Interlude - Prom Night<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">In Chapter 3.16, the prom: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">‘The hall was filled was teens when he arrived at prom.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lol. If by filled Reagan meant all thirteen teens currently
existing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in </i>town. XD Anyway. These
teens are the first children born to the town, so I thought people might be
interested to see how the town bred. So, here I present you with:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqRJopqX3AbyK8qD2JJAGjlBpqpf8USx9a32NuJJEusV9zpNOAJFJK8KkAsdHt5w3ntB6hgBIEzaqMgTg_a38DEFyPgqoRk8GBPrL-yM5zsZ6rgoVDJBR7L2wSZf2jok9NSxTP_qhHME/s1600/01.Cletus+Kahekili.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqRJopqX3AbyK8qD2JJAGjlBpqpf8USx9a32NuJJEusV9zpNOAJFJK8KkAsdHt5w3ntB6hgBIEzaqMgTg_a38DEFyPgqoRk8GBPrL-yM5zsZ6rgoVDJBR7L2wSZf2jok9NSxTP_qhHME/s640/01.Cletus+Kahekili.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Cletus Kahekili – Son of Colin Kahekili and Shaena
Blankenship (one of my own sims). Daniella and Joelle are his sisters, so they
share the same parents.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9u5ffxLW3nZaNpBV-fCzJ_hxC5tVXAmj1HJTvlCdrzxV-ocOvMyCPbp5bAiklWg2u99kataU2N_DsyGj2_96WTam6mRFw91aXhJLM4GYijqXG_VyT6HbXkKWL-dXyzZ-dUkwyFyya6_g/s1600/02.Lilianne+Everhart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9u5ffxLW3nZaNpBV-fCzJ_hxC5tVXAmj1HJTvlCdrzxV-ocOvMyCPbp5bAiklWg2u99kataU2N_DsyGj2_96WTam6mRFw91aXhJLM4GYijqXG_VyT6HbXkKWL-dXyzZ-dUkwyFyya6_g/s640/02.Lilianne+Everhart.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lilianne Everhart, talking to Alexa Marquel (who I’ve
already shown before) – Daughter of Raelene (Blaise’s sister) and Felix
Everhart. Now Felix is an interesting one. Genetically, he’s the son of Cyrus
Sixkiller and Alexis Love. I’m ignoring that fact for this town, because I just
love the way his genetics mix with Raelene’s. You can see the Love genetics in
Lillianne’s eyeshape.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRdCZlnmns9ivevC0w03oJcu4X7ivKzt2MpLHiXkshzryoh_7XHtSfVCgBugVuucI_HHfTncYtso032__C06EVQklA3CKlBN1iaKhRL7aQ5cAEppGg0iVMXZ6KKnQKDI62Dqjgk-cT3w/s1600/03.Desmond+Everhart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRdCZlnmns9ivevC0w03oJcu4X7ivKzt2MpLHiXkshzryoh_7XHtSfVCgBugVuucI_HHfTncYtso032__C06EVQklA3CKlBN1iaKhRL7aQ5cAEppGg0iVMXZ6KKnQKDI62Dqjgk-cT3w/s640/03.Desmond+Everhart.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Desmond Everhart, being unashamedly inappropriate here with
Daniella Kahekili – Lilianne’s younger brother, thus also Raelene and Felix’s
child.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-_l5MBf3K62SMC-10XKNwv3pFzxmxWAPg50DfJv-nZA6b6B8YEYVsbqm6d8z3ymhrF2QuYXG8MQ8xCPojM5NUMI3Ka30BwRBbe0WfNP62EUAqG1GT2_XTdCcQ-HLuBw3dUxuhL5k28o/s1600/04.Marlin+Diffy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-_l5MBf3K62SMC-10XKNwv3pFzxmxWAPg50DfJv-nZA6b6B8YEYVsbqm6d8z3ymhrF2QuYXG8MQ8xCPojM5NUMI3Ka30BwRBbe0WfNP62EUAqG1GT2_XTdCcQ-HLuBw3dUxuhL5k28o/s640/04.Marlin+Diffy.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Marlin Diffy – Son of CB and Emily Diffy. I made CB a genie
and Emily a fairy, which is why Marlin is a genie as well.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1MgrN5gKQvTaQnOcMpKo_fJOI8E8tJXr6uYEWe9QXIKsnFdJMt2d8YAIZkMMK6RAblt7HzK7iVEbDTXmbHnEw10hgJxfP-Y5aEvj-bvQ26y_v5cwUYnP5tw-RPzgq1J8M_a22DGpNKZg/s1600/05.Desirae+Bee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1MgrN5gKQvTaQnOcMpKo_fJOI8E8tJXr6uYEWe9QXIKsnFdJMt2d8YAIZkMMK6RAblt7HzK7iVEbDTXmbHnEw10hgJxfP-Y5aEvj-bvQ26y_v5cwUYnP5tw-RPzgq1J8M_a22DGpNKZg/s640/05.Desirae+Bee.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Desirae Bee – Daughter of Solaris Bee and Belle Matthews.
And yes, Belle married Solaris, so she’s now Belle Bee.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrS8UMURcUhcd6C03G1ib1E5TfNHTZuMJtJjPSLG1Vbd3mOhi9PeVHefR1THEmhOpbMpHOe-TYaT5s_WfbIIlKQ648e9IittdD8YjZ19nFwq9yUsh8cFq0aAKwtwBpxR0EjudgrmdW8PM/s1600/06.Shalonda+Diffy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrS8UMURcUhcd6C03G1ib1E5TfNHTZuMJtJjPSLG1Vbd3mOhi9PeVHefR1THEmhOpbMpHOe-TYaT5s_WfbIIlKQ648e9IittdD8YjZ19nFwq9yUsh8cFq0aAKwtwBpxR0EjudgrmdW8PM/s640/06.Shalonda+Diffy.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Shalonda Diffy – Marlin’s sister, Shalonda inherited Emily’s
fairy status.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tmukxKmbBXr3p6XsUeh5ntfhXm_-EvIkuw0o5-qJL5E_CHacTOSmAo7E7a39pB3WEGpsZH6rKtsKIyMnOtbo-sGrprKYHuKPqc7HWBzGUTjO1RZF8xbnYB_YAbuGgTNBKqnqW_PPXxM/s1600/07.Federico+Sabo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tmukxKmbBXr3p6XsUeh5ntfhXm_-EvIkuw0o5-qJL5E_CHacTOSmAo7E7a39pB3WEGpsZH6rKtsKIyMnOtbo-sGrprKYHuKPqc7HWBzGUTjO1RZF8xbnYB_YAbuGgTNBKqnqW_PPXxM/s640/07.Federico+Sabo.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Federico Sabo – Son of Raindrop Sabo and Phedra Sixkiller.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZTHxfJs3tYaO8VTngUTvO-snGrUuGE1J2IybsVc5KZr6o9KzP-sQXKmj2OajFSK9G3TjA7LUAgT-6wkPGfNTprOHBXYmCQ_M5LMJZQ-V493VG41NPEau4HtPtr5kTZZ6QcMNWu_sOTw/s1600/08.Maribel+Bernier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZTHxfJs3tYaO8VTngUTvO-snGrUuGE1J2IybsVc5KZr6o9KzP-sQXKmj2OajFSK9G3TjA7LUAgT-6wkPGfNTprOHBXYmCQ_M5LMJZQ-V493VG41NPEau4HtPtr5kTZZ6QcMNWu_sOTw/s640/08.Maribel+Bernier.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Maribel Bernier – Daughter of Meallan Bernier (another one
of my own sims) and Melody Matthews.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Monty Sleitinn – Son of Odin Sleitinn and Jaida Blankenship
(once again, my own sim. Actually the abovementioned Shaena Blankenship’s
sister. You’ll notice he and Joelle has the same colour eyes.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I’ll probably do another round of these when it’s Mireille’s
turn at prom. The families not represented here have children about Mireille’s
age, so that way <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">most </i>of the genetic
mixes will be showcased. XD</span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-78694769425839755412018-03-15T20:04:00.000+02:002018-03-17T09:33:43.558+02:00Chapter 3.16 - Life In Its Purest Form<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The shutters rattled against the
window, grabbed and released by the wind blowing outside. Mireille sat on her
bed, glaring at nothing and kicking irritably at her mattress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She hated it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hated. </i>It was so unfair that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan
</i>was allowed to come and go as he wanted, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>wasn’t allowed to leave the house for anything but school.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So. Not. Fair.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwyf7TUYaheRArzUaPf439ICR1faSALKzl0CLWjj39pm5zb5blIXuOrSgJNUjtREuw_eD079eZa-4TRi_8TOebD951Yk2CGZFVDji2eCTD_PPkTT1W7SiBKLMZFI4jLlLAZ6GpF8nJIM/s1600/316.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwyf7TUYaheRArzUaPf439ICR1faSALKzl0CLWjj39pm5zb5blIXuOrSgJNUjtREuw_eD079eZa-4TRi_8TOebD951Yk2CGZFVDji2eCTD_PPkTT1W7SiBKLMZFI4jLlLAZ6GpF8nJIM/s640/316.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She couldn’t believe her mom had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">grounded </i>her. It was just a little bit
of water! But no, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan </i>sneaked out
and all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>had been punished with was
to do a couple of dishes he would’ve done in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anyway</i>, but when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>played
a prank she got grounded! It was so unfair!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her feet stilled as a thought
jumped into her mind. Reagan had sneaked out and all he had to do was a couple
of dishes. What could be the worst to happen if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>sneaked out? Be grounded longer? Get yelled at for a bit? She
didn’t know, but she wasn’t afraid of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">either
</i>of those.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbcBNScl-BOmF-JoTzWdCFicNqlofbqPa3JyOEd72RVBkcosLkvFKj9b2b9vb4CL68KsDAjiL_VTWyGJ6tfufRRj-2JiXS2MRp_XIbI1Ab-n2SXnoKkSGsnVH4A3wl9WuITG6SVfg9N4/s1600/316.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbcBNScl-BOmF-JoTzWdCFicNqlofbqPa3JyOEd72RVBkcosLkvFKj9b2b9vb4CL68KsDAjiL_VTWyGJ6tfufRRj-2JiXS2MRp_XIbI1Ab-n2SXnoKkSGsnVH4A3wl9WuITG6SVfg9N4/s640/316.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She slid off the bed, eager to
follow out her plan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She didn’t get far before her
plans were foiled. Her entire family were in the living room, and there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no way </i>she’d be able to sneak out
without being noticed. Reagan even had a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">girl
</i>over.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiRQgyB-E197nom7TEGenQZSESKe12Lytm_IH-UMbl8YKsivvDRZlIqwWKhcPSjL71r4dIuSpeQENR1ODqgyey6I5en2UHlaEPhNGUsZT-U5wyyzTeumul1N9tKiqpaiNcAahRYC4xm6Y/s1600/316.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiRQgyB-E197nom7TEGenQZSESKe12Lytm_IH-UMbl8YKsivvDRZlIqwWKhcPSjL71r4dIuSpeQENR1ODqgyey6I5en2UHlaEPhNGUsZT-U5wyyzTeumul1N9tKiqpaiNcAahRYC4xm6Y/s640/316.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Hmph!” she harrumphed and turned
back around, acting like she just wanted to go to the bathroom. It was so unfair!
Her parents <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>favoured Reagan
over her! When <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she’d </i>asked if Lucinda
can visit they’d said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no, </i>because she
was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">grounded</i>, but when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan </i>wanted someone over they were
okay with it?! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It wasn’t fair! </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She wouldn’t accept it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj42kdHvF5bd4Po7KJ6-qzcKTa6kS6nPv0enzMwkcgo4nQcFTHVG4mrRg3T_sZIpTiTfnJv3XeU6Vrl5oIu1KedN1rL2GAIOi2GR_OBN_xeQR-ylm5lJoxLBSqH46LX4JQ-VIZBefdlE7k/s1600/316.04a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj42kdHvF5bd4Po7KJ6-qzcKTa6kS6nPv0enzMwkcgo4nQcFTHVG4mrRg3T_sZIpTiTfnJv3XeU6Vrl5oIu1KedN1rL2GAIOi2GR_OBN_xeQR-ylm5lJoxLBSqH46LX4JQ-VIZBefdlE7k/s640/316.04a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0qvvUD7RRZNIgTyq4sxZvm1rFp8xqJ9ttYzr843UvGQw8S3smn6NlIIUocHcKM06G7d-nuXi-ouWgvFWe7cqvtvWg6KYZFkh3MhbAnBBLclg3g-ovZWO6DI0OkY1ecjByOijjakNIqo/s1600/316.04b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0qvvUD7RRZNIgTyq4sxZvm1rFp8xqJ9ttYzr843UvGQw8S3smn6NlIIUocHcKM06G7d-nuXi-ouWgvFWe7cqvtvWg6KYZFkh3MhbAnBBLclg3g-ovZWO6DI0OkY1ecjByOijjakNIqo/s640/316.04b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And once again she was bored. She
hated it. Hated hated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>it. There
was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>to do in the house, and
there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no way </i>she was going to sit
in the living room and watch her parents spoil Reagan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan </i>was the one to trigger her traps in
the bathroom, long after his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">friend </i>went
home. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dDo-r8QEzZnBZDNVSq6ByJ7lHiYuOYWrZujLKmY90basicwS7dHkbldQRsx9fXnQARbIotvKatgxRGubKvNQVkU2Bm_cwcuj6ALNo9u2WSQ0sAWNSH-e53DmoAdhhrcEc70ZYzL6tF8/s1600/316.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dDo-r8QEzZnBZDNVSq6ByJ7lHiYuOYWrZujLKmY90basicwS7dHkbldQRsx9fXnQARbIotvKatgxRGubKvNQVkU2Bm_cwcuj6ALNo9u2WSQ0sAWNSH-e53DmoAdhhrcEc70ZYzL6tF8/s640/316.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He came into their shared room
with wet pyjamas and dyed hair, looking all miserable and lost, and Mireille
almost thought she could see tears gleaming in his eyes, which was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid</i>. Everybody knew boys didn’t cry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He didn’t say a word to her as he
rummaged through his closet in search for a spare set of pyjamas with a sullen
and slightly hurt air around him. Mireille almost felt guilty, a little. She
hadn’t really wanted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan </i>to get
caught in her traps. She was trying to make a point to her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">parents</i>, after all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Ground me all you want, I won’t stop. You can’t make me stop.</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdjBtc9fa9rliStAaVUDkIGg8ctitL__vWRMwPsvJGLPBWH7VhLxLMMnEsmm46ImugPpEAYccd130Gi0VEg6E4O5R2Y3WgsN31OL5SFIeLZ8cnIOe0zErTAVA96r_99wxAstrwW5eNfk/s1600/316.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdjBtc9fa9rliStAaVUDkIGg8ctitL__vWRMwPsvJGLPBWH7VhLxLMMnEsmm46ImugPpEAYccd130Gi0VEg6E4O5R2Y3WgsN31OL5SFIeLZ8cnIOe0zErTAVA96r_99wxAstrwW5eNfk/s640/316.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But she wasn’t going to apologize.
There was nothing wrong with what she did. If Reagan hadn’t been able to figure
it out, then he was just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He left the room without a word,
and when he came back again, the dye had been washed out of his hair. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>didn’t say anything to her as he
inspected his bookcase in search of something to read in bed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“You look really stupid with pink
hair, you know,” she taunted. She expected him to give her that hurt puppy look
he did so well, but to her surprise, he clenched his teeth and glared at the
bookcase, refusing to look at her.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPocHV66htURjsmnl8Gdjt7kA45x1beX-ZrRwH6MTT0j5SZuHj-ecVN03Un6y7jugzAvyTlzRyXBL8YvGtsaRv14EDC7G37hYJYbIIh1PW27BweErLJ9oYjjkBIXvpSji6QK_e6N9dIb4/s1600/316.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPocHV66htURjsmnl8Gdjt7kA45x1beX-ZrRwH6MTT0j5SZuHj-ecVN03Un6y7jugzAvyTlzRyXBL8YvGtsaRv14EDC7G37hYJYbIIh1PW27BweErLJ9oYjjkBIXvpSji6QK_e6N9dIb4/s640/316.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re lucky it was me getting caught and not
Blaise,” he muttered sullenly, finally deciding on a book. “Why do you always try
to provoke him?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille sniffed derisively and
looked away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Because he’s unfair, and I hate
him,” she declared glibly. She didn’t really hate her dad. She was just trying
to make him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think </i>she hated him.
Maybe then he’d stop favouring Reagan over her.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIE0Ba4bE5FDIfc7Pc_CM0h00fczLRPmorxNaFm8_ya89k1Iw-Yc7KthszSuSYzEtDrAEKlLTNeUCEkd66QTAUt6pRH9Dbgoa4QnujTPd2RBznzBNnn8zGqUzPSA9sGhWy_Io6QWprJI/s1600/316.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIE0Ba4bE5FDIfc7Pc_CM0h00fczLRPmorxNaFm8_ya89k1Iw-Yc7KthszSuSYzEtDrAEKlLTNeUCEkd66QTAUt6pRH9Dbgoa4QnujTPd2RBznzBNnn8zGqUzPSA9sGhWy_Io6QWprJI/s640/316.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He was curiously silent after her
answer. Mireille glanced at him, curious about his lack of a response. When it
finally came, it was again not what Mireille had expected.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“You don’t deserve to have them as
your parents,” he declared softly, his brows lowered in an angry scowl.
Mireille blinked. She hadn’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">known </i>Reagan
could scowl like that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She immediately scowled back at
him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“What do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>know?” she snapped indignantly and turned her back on him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He didn’t answer her, settling
instead onto his bed, book in hand. He ignored her the rest of the night, and
it was a favour Mireille was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">glad </i>to
return. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvuS3uhYnReUoxmDbIHZxBu4CzHIgQA0_872s1bMNnJWm-yCFSI43L0yGI8wOUYiKBqj4I1SRKKJ0Gw_LM9qvuZ08dlNhtzIoP2Ksc_yK9iHJECkvc-S8uP2HElfAC8MI30g9tHga3QE/s1600/316.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvuS3uhYnReUoxmDbIHZxBu4CzHIgQA0_872s1bMNnJWm-yCFSI43L0yGI8wOUYiKBqj4I1SRKKJ0Gw_LM9qvuZ08dlNhtzIoP2Ksc_yK9iHJECkvc-S8uP2HElfAC8MI30g9tHga3QE/s640/316.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He wasn’t her real brother. How
could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>understand how horrible her
parents were?</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The next morning dawned cold and
bitter; the first official day of winter. Mireille was warm and comfy beneath
her covers, sleeping soundly, but she was rudely awakened by Kiki meowing
loudly and insistently. Mireille burrowed deeper into her covers, trying to
drown out the noise, but she gave a loud shriek when something furry landed on
her face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Geroff, Kiki!” she yelled and
shoved the cat off her bed. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAVba6PzVWTa5c-aXpOgupciwVbeP70et-P9qXQL3GhuKzUttslByR1G4BMykTlj_ivxwsvh69zarxrmYQf-s-KStahfv-MWgnW18jangr5Gqz_WPYW82i6yIS9ArHYSeNmTY4v6cVBg/s1600/316.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAVba6PzVWTa5c-aXpOgupciwVbeP70et-P9qXQL3GhuKzUttslByR1G4BMykTlj_ivxwsvh69zarxrmYQf-s-KStahfv-MWgnW18jangr5Gqz_WPYW82i6yIS9ArHYSeNmTY4v6cVBg/s640/316.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan sat up blearily in his bed,
woken by Mireille’s yell, and Kiki hightailed away from Mireille to his section
of the room and sat in front of the closed door, eagerly waiting for the door
to be opened.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan groaned when he saw the cat
and lied back down, throwing an arm across his eyes to block out the light.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille scowled. Kiki was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his </i>cat, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>should be the one opening the door for her!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvsuy3cqpk8BysjGZFahu4rggXyDT5MEAVV32HN5gw4X4orxPmji0Ug_4kQESP18uhpGfoVEajAaVVlNdwTg7xDsd_tMZANe_SkPjSrPz107eO9yMEMQYcyuTgm_Nxta_yl5dU92tB-Ek/s1600/316.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvsuy3cqpk8BysjGZFahu4rggXyDT5MEAVV32HN5gw4X4orxPmji0Ug_4kQESP18uhpGfoVEajAaVVlNdwTg7xDsd_tMZANe_SkPjSrPz107eO9yMEMQYcyuTgm_Nxta_yl5dU92tB-Ek/s640/316.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She shoved the door open for the
cat, thinking about how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan was
supposed to do it. </i>To her utter displeasure, Kiki merely stretched and ran
towards Reagan’s bed where she promptly curled up and went to sleep.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nK1ZP0NExZXBL0zn6RR1y2t12oaNzqOqmok9tvvgGOv6qBJsRe8AQTMIqEpJlWQUYoWyD1PIyrROxMy76Hcev4VxxLiAh7k3SERNKoZKO8z5qiR4lGq_8U2NDiF8jhEvzYSqo4276TA/s1600/316.12a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nK1ZP0NExZXBL0zn6RR1y2t12oaNzqOqmok9tvvgGOv6qBJsRe8AQTMIqEpJlWQUYoWyD1PIyrROxMy76Hcev4VxxLiAh7k3SERNKoZKO8z5qiR4lGq_8U2NDiF8jhEvzYSqo4276TA/s640/316.12a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95zjSZMVVdRiT0KW0wwooml03Wpg52YtNt7QkSaUxW9hSeCZHFX5cIdFWLsC6CU6te_hovcluNkFallbGjxOb5UNhaXDeEOJw9J8uHgHI8ZY-GQSyaZVmvLD3qo7kT7oipvRp7xbL_-k/s1600/316.12b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1360" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95zjSZMVVdRiT0KW0wwooml03Wpg52YtNt7QkSaUxW9hSeCZHFX5cIdFWLsC6CU6te_hovcluNkFallbGjxOb5UNhaXDeEOJw9J8uHgHI8ZY-GQSyaZVmvLD3qo7kT7oipvRp7xbL_-k/s640/316.12b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille scowled at the cat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stupid cat.</i> What an absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">great </i>way to start her day. She stalked
off to the shower and with a content sigh, she let the deliciously hot water
wash away her irritation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Half an hour later, Mireille left
the bathroom and went in search of breakfast. She rubbed her bare shoulders
when she entered the living room, caught a bit off guard by the chill in the
air. Her dad’s temperature charm on the house must’ve started to fade. She
didn’t really understand how it work – just that every now and then her dad
waved his hands around the house, shooting out brilliant globes of light, and
afterwards the house would be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not cold </i>anymore.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmChnBkAbAjyjk2RPQyYQq-_h8gHNBP7UWxIb-pELZgsHXbwAIj83hWEQhLRSzLBQLBrfUBG7TiDLybmHI4tGK8ntjibLNbBz8PG0D8a90eIm5BthjKAnlWsukNUC0A89cxXXTn_IQUc/s1600/316.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmChnBkAbAjyjk2RPQyYQq-_h8gHNBP7UWxIb-pELZgsHXbwAIj83hWEQhLRSzLBQLBrfUBG7TiDLybmHI4tGK8ntjibLNbBz8PG0D8a90eIm5BthjKAnlWsukNUC0A89cxXXTn_IQUc/s640/316.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She kinda really liked that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Morning Mireille,” Reagan greeted her,
glancing over his shoulder with a warm smile. “Thanks for taking care of Kiki
this morning.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille sniffed the air
derisively, pleased at his gratitude, yet unwilling to let him show, but a
slight smile still sneaked onto her face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Well, she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>wake me,” she pointed out primly. “And she’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your </i>cat, so now you have to play with
me after school.” She was still <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">grounded</i>,
so if he promised to play with her later, she wouldn’t be so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bored</i>, which meant being grounded
wouldn’t be so bad. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5cF1AEt5RKvoT0MLj8s2hF8yHQonDexPBXfH9hg1LaSCCKC_LbQ0AiDDO9DIrMoJlG0A2kDuNqLNkE6MbpqSUd1UtOgQ9gVA8fVG2vJGLe9dYex53YtWA1e7VABpOmSE6Myr_jML6t4/s1600/316.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5cF1AEt5RKvoT0MLj8s2hF8yHQonDexPBXfH9hg1LaSCCKC_LbQ0AiDDO9DIrMoJlG0A2kDuNqLNkE6MbpqSUd1UtOgQ9gVA8fVG2vJGLe9dYex53YtWA1e7VABpOmSE6Myr_jML6t4/s640/316.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Yeah, that sounded like an idea,
and Reagan agreed easily enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Sure thing, Ray-Ray,” he agreed,
the words causing Mireille to scowl.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mireille</i>,” she emphasised insistently. “Mee-ray. It’s not that
difficult. Stop calling me Ray-Ray!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan smiled into his pancakes,
amused by the familiar byplay. “Okay Mireille,” he agreed indulgently.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1AR21YgA_1UWbS7odusX-Kv-wW7k9RFio2RZOmKHjGsg9kfYuUsIlLc4ue1YSL0oVSAyKm4evCW_BIFV3P4MZF-epkn1UULPK3cGvpCCT7lLa8d5WShR6lmKUa9wJ5qjq806W5WTSnU/s1600/316.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1AR21YgA_1UWbS7odusX-Kv-wW7k9RFio2RZOmKHjGsg9kfYuUsIlLc4ue1YSL0oVSAyKm4evCW_BIFV3P4MZF-epkn1UULPK3cGvpCCT7lLa8d5WShR6lmKUa9wJ5qjq806W5WTSnU/s640/316.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">With a disdainful sniff, Mireille
grabbed her own plate of pancakes and joined Reagan at the table. Reagan left
to shower, and not long after, the school bus arrived, and a flurry of activity
filled the house as Reagan tried to get dressed as quickly as possible and
Mireille wolfed her breakfast down. They didn’t want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">miss </i>the bus, after all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">At school, Mireille was
immediately ambushed by her cousin and best friend, Lucinda. The other girl
threw herself at Mireille and immediately started chattering a mile a minute
away.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5E9jGspcRtBrMiM9AyjwUg6sksyvTRc_gfjLaYvWUw3UnvL1J1omJwp2aH7kBul79-Z1iJzm0Jkx-3e2rolbs2S4koJMg8TicsM7iBqjUR34fC0DUIKm_P_Rk5ztAatwMQbP4eqfkWcc/s1600/316.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5E9jGspcRtBrMiM9AyjwUg6sksyvTRc_gfjLaYvWUw3UnvL1J1omJwp2aH7kBul79-Z1iJzm0Jkx-3e2rolbs2S4koJMg8TicsM7iBqjUR34fC0DUIKm_P_Rk5ztAatwMQbP4eqfkWcc/s640/316.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Mireille perked up, and suddenly
her day was looking much, much better. Lucinda was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">best</i>. She was. So. Much. Fun.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan sighed when he went home
after school, tired out by the hustle and bustle of a normal school day. He had
a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ton </i>of homework, and he was
mentally tired – not only because of school work, but also because the Kahekili
girls were going through some very obvious and very interesting changes. They
were completely unashamed about the fact, and they dressed accordingly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan didn’t know how to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look </i>at them anymore.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4qzrE_O41cNOURoXLei1L50dMxnt2bUabW2OsgBk9OUDbm8god4Kw0Gx6RUtle7Hytnig5eR3q_OjxP9BVS-J7qWJ5SpqLoz5jkgy0x-0HY8hfDs0GbXGQWicmJ1MTURUOCY4iKQPhg/s1600/316.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr4qzrE_O41cNOURoXLei1L50dMxnt2bUabW2OsgBk9OUDbm8god4Kw0Gx6RUtle7Hytnig5eR3q_OjxP9BVS-J7qWJ5SpqLoz5jkgy0x-0HY8hfDs0GbXGQWicmJ1MTURUOCY4iKQPhg/s640/316.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Mmreow,” Kiki greeted him,
rubbing affectionately against his legs. Reagan smiled at the cat and picked
her up, cheered up by her presence. He really loved animals. He would love to
get another cat or a dog, but he never asked for one. He knew it would be
inconvenient, and he didn’t want to be a burden to Lyra and Blaise. They never
made him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel </i>like he was a burden or
in the way or anything like that, but…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">…but he wanted to make life as
easy as possible for them, because wasn’t that what people <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>to those they care about? What was the point of living if you
couldn’t help others or make them happy?</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMI7AmpM4sFteErGp00XqN-PYNSd7CCosusOdjWO3mTSjVOUMo58IUc5Q_QvKfnN5ntOFlFebaF7yr_9VE0uWS8mTkOVtBdB6y-pAnm5ES7c5WbEktreInZOp1ShWYv7SN3GLw1tpNVo/s1600/316.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjMI7AmpM4sFteErGp00XqN-PYNSd7CCosusOdjWO3mTSjVOUMo58IUc5Q_QvKfnN5ntOFlFebaF7yr_9VE0uWS8mTkOVtBdB6y-pAnm5ES7c5WbEktreInZOp1ShWYv7SN3GLw1tpNVo/s640/316.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mmreow!” Kiki purred in his arms, demanding
attention from her human and pulling him out of his thoughts. The days when she
had preferred Mireille over Reagan were long gone.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Alright, you little flirt,”
Reagan laughed at the cat and lavished her with the attention she deserved. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlpmJbydv6ZhWNK5V4ch4IHzCte9feM5IQJIfCRpfv_xlVNnJJADCaQU_kmlXFiQ3UcVctECeSc7n-dv1vuQlxhRXs2L4cRLdStqox6HHVW68ENhQw-4_dSpS1G3yZOAxGbnB8ZraRXE/s1600/316.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlpmJbydv6ZhWNK5V4ch4IHzCte9feM5IQJIfCRpfv_xlVNnJJADCaQU_kmlXFiQ3UcVctECeSc7n-dv1vuQlxhRXs2L4cRLdStqox6HHVW68ENhQw-4_dSpS1G3yZOAxGbnB8ZraRXE/s640/316.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Their quality time together was
broken by a low voice demanding his attention.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Reagan,” Blaise requested, his
voice light. “You have a minute? We need to talk.” Reagan looked up, worried by
the serious words, but the slight smile on his godfather’s face immediately
reassured him that nothing was wrong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“About what?” Reagan answered, curious. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Your magic,” Blaise replied
promptly. “Your core is starting to stabilise, and it won’t be long now before
you come fully into your magic. When that happens, you’ll need to start
training. The last thing you’ll want is for your magic to go out of control and
hurt someone.” </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX057hOmnUOf6JPZJiYjQPZ9XGEbaW8m680WrnHTxQ9Y6cqKf4p164pVo_ONOgdBCpTbwU2MLx9Yr4HWwe4TDzjUdUaA-Ik7CI3vbkDZZJgmnWOb_7adxNZx3XKFqEw4CP7MTdg1zcsxA/s1600/316.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX057hOmnUOf6JPZJiYjQPZ9XGEbaW8m680WrnHTxQ9Y6cqKf4p164pVo_ONOgdBCpTbwU2MLx9Yr4HWwe4TDzjUdUaA-Ik7CI3vbkDZZJgmnWOb_7adxNZx3XKFqEw4CP7MTdg1zcsxA/s640/316.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay,” Reagan agreed easily, feeling
excitement well up in him. He was finally going to start training. Everybody
knew the magical cores of children were unstable while they matured, so in
order to minimise accidents, every magical child got a binding on their core
when they started school, preventing them from using magic. Once their cores
had stabilised enough the binding would automatically snap, and they would be
considered mature enough to use their magic responsibly. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was a moment <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>magical children regarded with eager
anticipation.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDG8qiDJh5QMJIXGS8s_MqFmjE60t9WDu-NoM8N-g8o1PVT-bix4e9B1sjVbd9j5KnunZAGM8H6iWzLShHnKDa5FKCGiBPaHZDzdxDe7FpyHtr7qqiOCXmoqrAPz4sdIHwNJwIThr4w0/s1600/316.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDG8qiDJh5QMJIXGS8s_MqFmjE60t9WDu-NoM8N-g8o1PVT-bix4e9B1sjVbd9j5KnunZAGM8H6iWzLShHnKDa5FKCGiBPaHZDzdxDe7FpyHtr7qqiOCXmoqrAPz4sdIHwNJwIThr4w0/s640/316.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good,” Blaise approved. “When the binding
snaps, let me know. You’ll know when it happens.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Of course,” Reagan promised
earnestly. He couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wait </i>to start
training, especially since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise </i>would
be the one training him. Blaise was brilliant. He was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dragoneer</i>. Only the best of the best were ever chosen by the
dragons. Being trained under a dragoneer was a privilege very few people get to
experience. He couldn’t wait.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Any further conversation between
them was interrupted by Mireille bursting through the door, smiling widely. She
waved cheerily at her dad before bounding over to him to hug him and tell him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>about her day.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLmaY-qDtJwbgLvBuaZPxe5Xf6kvn_EdGGTJcIaBMUa2wohFj6OZs_qObSZ4nWcLXYl2NzFJedL6fEzlQjSdQ7WoHV5MIFv9K0Ws52GvVOp33cshcPuNBj1QEaKpXN8SDwYR455VRo9o/s1600/316.22a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLmaY-qDtJwbgLvBuaZPxe5Xf6kvn_EdGGTJcIaBMUa2wohFj6OZs_qObSZ4nWcLXYl2NzFJedL6fEzlQjSdQ7WoHV5MIFv9K0Ws52GvVOp33cshcPuNBj1QEaKpXN8SDwYR455VRo9o/s640/316.22a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She seemed to have forgotten she
was angry at Blaise. She chattered on about how she and Lucinda did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this </i>and then <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> and then seemingly everything else. Blaise listened patiently
to her, his mouth tilted in a slight smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan instinctively repressed the
slight sting of jealousy, feeling a little like a stranger looking in. He had
no right being jealous. Mireille was Blaise’s daughter, and he…he was only the
godson.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; tab-stops: 273.6pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mireille didn’t
give him much time to brood over it.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bkXXwN_PaM1Hj6D5Q8W4fylD1SKqxT86Qzw3di79Xb5hZrqsctETAuJulb2U1-Chqk89m_lfpFE7pel8HU82W9juCZ6iSLZO4Q6FonNHyvTN4dkRi9NZ_yFLdHqNvgr52w3PQA1pXP4/s1600/316.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bkXXwN_PaM1Hj6D5Q8W4fylD1SKqxT86Qzw3di79Xb5hZrqsctETAuJulb2U1-Chqk89m_lfpFE7pel8HU82W9juCZ6iSLZO4Q6FonNHyvTN4dkRi9NZ_yFLdHqNvgr52w3PQA1pXP4/s640/316.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; tab-stops: 273.6pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You promised to play with me!” she announced,
looking eagerly at him now that she grew bored of talking to her dad. “You
promised, so let’s play.” She blinked innocently at him, all excited and eager,
and Reagan returned her smile resignedly. He wasn’t really in the mood for her
childish games, but he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>promised.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Playing with her… turned out quite
a lot of fun, actually. She had a lot of energy to burn, so the things she
wanted to do were things Reagan didn’t mind doing at all.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqoO0_78jOtPsfe4NtQgLbh47FovA9BOCWarIXkb-Jdr43o5W80VPk9CRp0sGBLJvqjsi9YimYi4tSAPIkhRM0ZQ4DJHPm3b1nnXBGm9eEzbyxTWIivXyBl1SG7p4NrwhYR8nONM4CaM/s1600/316.24a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqoO0_78jOtPsfe4NtQgLbh47FovA9BOCWarIXkb-Jdr43o5W80VPk9CRp0sGBLJvqjsi9YimYi4tSAPIkhRM0ZQ4DJHPm3b1nnXBGm9eEzbyxTWIivXyBl1SG7p4NrwhYR8nONM4CaM/s640/316.24a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She had a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mean </i>arm with a pillow though.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyacMQA3nwR95ZzKx-CG_GH16foL20qd0VosYT62oyd6diHS9zFj86tH9lTq-WXYpPratIfnJEo4i5xDe2XJqA0gQOxWPysZPp3rPrybq0AL67gRVL4F-7nkZSzCxbhdwgmEcEMFIB_o/s1600/316.24b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyacMQA3nwR95ZzKx-CG_GH16foL20qd0VosYT62oyd6diHS9zFj86tH9lTq-WXYpPratIfnJEo4i5xDe2XJqA0gQOxWPysZPp3rPrybq0AL67gRVL4F-7nkZSzCxbhdwgmEcEMFIB_o/s640/316.24b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The entire afternoon was spent
playing with Mireille, and their activities only ceased when Lyra pointedly
reminded them they had homework to do. Miracles above miracles, Mireille didn’t
complain, and Reagan was left in peace to complete his mountain-sized heap of
homework.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When the binding on his magic
snapped later that evening, Reagan decided his day wasn’t that bad after all.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCir97RI2-9ePCAlchZMgC1Svw8EW8RgRIYPSTnYr3C3RcvDKlMjYwTKke9WxzYuEmghiurvQEb8F_14yYiERt5lpEfWehBYJTQHAu5hN924f-c96uv_VwEnjz8AGuWXiIdFwD2oBrD4/s1600/316.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCir97RI2-9ePCAlchZMgC1Svw8EW8RgRIYPSTnYr3C3RcvDKlMjYwTKke9WxzYuEmghiurvQEb8F_14yYiERt5lpEfWehBYJTQHAu5hN924f-c96uv_VwEnjz8AGuWXiIdFwD2oBrD4/s640/316.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The sound of fingers tapping
keyboard keys and light breathing filled the air. Besides the familiar hum of
the refrigerator and the scritch-scratch of Kiki sharpening her nails on Lyra’s
couch, those were the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only </i>sounds in
the room. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbuRlZij7nJ4SR9l0pwAyOfiq37nxImZwNYXn6ChI3KgEn-fYj3dNUxWbKELwkGjOXEwsbfJ_ng1zINz3cwadE0LPfbQAK5xlcPvUulgZpVwGXpR53E8l_vCC_FIiT7MmCbbweITbHhQ/s1600/316.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbuRlZij7nJ4SR9l0pwAyOfiq37nxImZwNYXn6ChI3KgEn-fYj3dNUxWbKELwkGjOXEwsbfJ_ng1zINz3cwadE0LPfbQAK5xlcPvUulgZpVwGXpR53E8l_vCC_FIiT7MmCbbweITbHhQ/s640/316.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Joelle leaned close to Reagan,
reading what he’s written on their biology assignment on the laptop screen with
a confused frown on her face. She was close enough that the floral scent of her
shampoo lingered in his nose. The pendant around her neck swayed with the
motion, drawing attention to places Reagan <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did
not </i>want to think about.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>had no idea what effect her ‘fashion sense’ had on him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Wait, why did you write 23 chromatids?
Shouldn’t that be 46?” she pointed out, her brows still drawn with confusion.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZMdxSHL-VfT6_B71W0_JK3UBwhaIY1VbV4yAZtfipAbh6lJ6DdASDrzKWWa_RDB5dHqS5dZEWoYgcG8T6PKwJkrpGAgFVpYjBzwjm4Giuu42SqCqZncrDqIldefz15-BLvXdgmehzws/s1600/316.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBZMdxSHL-VfT6_B71W0_JK3UBwhaIY1VbV4yAZtfipAbh6lJ6DdASDrzKWWa_RDB5dHqS5dZEWoYgcG8T6PKwJkrpGAgFVpYjBzwjm4Giuu42SqCqZncrDqIldefz15-BLvXdgmehzws/s640/316.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re thinking of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mitosis</i>,” Reagan disagreed. “This is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">meiosis</i>.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She scrunched her nose up in a way
Reagan found a little adorable, causing Reagan’s heartbeat to speed up
slightly. She really was pretty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s the difference?” she asked.
For a moment Reagan wasn’t sure if she was simply teasing him or not. They’ve
been going over the differences in class for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">weeks.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“U-uhm, mitosis is normal cell division, while
m-meiosis is…” he trailed off, unable to give the rest of the explanation as embarrassment
started to rise. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Joelle rested her head in her
hand, an impish smile on her face. The movement caused her pendant to sway
again, and Reagan suddenly realised the angle presented him with a perfect view
down her top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cell division in the reproductive cells,
right?” she finished his explanation for him. Oh, so she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>know. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>just
teasing him.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBl7WosP1HKCLr-LK33pcvWw4LpF0EVhFZr_l3xL87dD-Z6t-x46rUmwkKFbiIzWNy7R5ubpe5dhiEIAvZ55pG2ZU6kWdQV42fW3w6wOBQIKSmWszwVmSen2e5uveXQgl3LQ4555tG6Q/s1600/316.27b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBl7WosP1HKCLr-LK33pcvWw4LpF0EVhFZr_l3xL87dD-Z6t-x46rUmwkKFbiIzWNy7R5ubpe5dhiEIAvZ55pG2ZU6kWdQV42fW3w6wOBQIKSmWszwVmSen2e5uveXQgl3LQ4555tG6Q/s640/316.27b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He blushed slightly and pulled his
eyes away from the view, trying to drag his mind out of the gutter. To his
complete mortification, there was a knowing smile on her face and her eyes
glittered with amusement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She smiled mischievously at him
and fingered the collar of her top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“You like it?” she asked coyly and
pulled her top down about an inch. “I can show you more if you want.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan promptly turned blood-red
and jerked his eyes away, blushing to the roots of his hair, causing Joelle to
burst out in laughter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not funny,” Reagan mumbled out a
protest, frowning, but Joelle wasn’t finished.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHhz7_NdnQCPIq5DM2UIcGABYQo-uMj65s58RXFYQvjuuvA3WCa73oXVf7M49tRnA9ldk3LWfxSvu_OTJUmQ68y2HG6BHZ2ILr9re0bcaoyuTcFkHrpfQJ_sJsPFDAkDvJLD_FslnN9I/s1600/316.27c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHhz7_NdnQCPIq5DM2UIcGABYQo-uMj65s58RXFYQvjuuvA3WCa73oXVf7M49tRnA9ldk3LWfxSvu_OTJUmQ68y2HG6BHZ2ILr9re0bcaoyuTcFkHrpfQJ_sJsPFDAkDvJLD_FslnN9I/s640/316.27c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is funny,” she disagreed, and before
Reagan mumble another protest, she laid a slender finger across his lips,
instantly silencing him. “But you’re cute, so let’s go to prom together, okay?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan blinked owlishly. He hadn’t
really planned on going to prom. His only real friends were the twins, and he
knew they would easily be able to find dates, and he didn’t want to go and be a
third (or fifth) wheel. He’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>expected
one of them would want <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him </i>as a date.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Okay,” he agreed with a tentative
smile, a smile she returned brightly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Time passed in a blink of the eye,
somehow getting lost in the routine of everyday life, and suddenly the day of
prom was upon him. Reagan was a nervous mess, constantly fiddling with his
cuffs or pulling at his collar, despite Lyra’s admonishments as she tried to
get a decent photo of her son-in-all-but-blood all dressed up.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1oJv1LOdhNFN69JySrI99lmnNzcWROCobyuJg0MZyVcVz-qxIF8vC8j3f1d6Ccp3wrP0oOdu1IFbQnNBcAXu85RIZpwUTrgj6a5uVRWe1_uJ79c4_A9DGWak_cLE2aT89tiU9cI6rEU/s1600/316.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1oJv1LOdhNFN69JySrI99lmnNzcWROCobyuJg0MZyVcVz-qxIF8vC8j3f1d6Ccp3wrP0oOdu1IFbQnNBcAXu85RIZpwUTrgj6a5uVRWe1_uJ79c4_A9DGWak_cLE2aT89tiU9cI6rEU/s640/316.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The limo meant to take him to prom
arrived far too soon for Reagan’s comfort, but he bravely squared his shoulders
and left the house, his stomach in knots at the thought of going with Joelle.
From the earliest days, she had always possessed the ability to fluster him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The hall was filled with teens
when he arrived at prom, talking and laughing and flirting. He felt decidedly
out of place. He didn’t really like being around a lot of people.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnfgGut4sTldkvn40ITS_Vs80yfrEFIRBtCz-RHEH3yfpb-RRPi3b1ffvkTKxPipSZz0GGqxv3KyYJZ1aNqKFzEVM0kVAey9u7C2hv0u5WEPV6Zie1K6nxsKKQAxsCwa4ULbNYqKl5ok/s1600/316.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnfgGut4sTldkvn40ITS_Vs80yfrEFIRBtCz-RHEH3yfpb-RRPi3b1ffvkTKxPipSZz0GGqxv3KyYJZ1aNqKFzEVM0kVAey9u7C2hv0u5WEPV6Zie1K6nxsKKQAxsCwa4ULbNYqKl5ok/s640/316.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Reagan!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He turned towards the voice, and
smiled broadly when he saw the speaker. It was Joelle. She was just as pretty
as always. He had been a little afraid that her asking him to prom was just a
joke, but seeing her grinning excitedly at him eased his worries. It seemed she
really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>wanted to attend prom with
him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The evening passed in a blur,
filled with dancing and laughing and just all around <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>. Joelle never left his side, helping him navigate the crowds of
teens of ease, and when they weren’t socialising, they were dancing. It was a
lot of fun.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsOeMZLUd0IyEj96w-3XnVqD6_6oylDYwpPjmlkrVpsu58KZdhqR7CNprnCVw52YhGzyw2_ObamBQTtgFAJOwxqqDCMVIVjdxQ96WZIlcz0s-6uZewegSAedhp2IJv9ACJQnjlR1I8Fs/s1600/316.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsOeMZLUd0IyEj96w-3XnVqD6_6oylDYwpPjmlkrVpsu58KZdhqR7CNprnCVw52YhGzyw2_ObamBQTtgFAJOwxqqDCMVIVjdxQ96WZIlcz0s-6uZewegSAedhp2IJv9ACJQnjlR1I8Fs/s640/316.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But in his honest opinion, the
best thing of the night happened when they were taking a break from dancing,
waiting for the queue in front of the punch table to get shorter and watching
Daniella dance with her boyfriend. Joelle was idly running her finger across
her lower lip, and Reagan had a hard time not staring at it, because it made
him want to do more than just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look </i>at
her.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASDZ7jr4KvoSfOfRlzpQzXUn3FmwtVUzOJnS66ovPfhzobhZPiZzM562d73b4Nnrq3Q6bM2Bm1pHEoiPtFfR8DDVDvENhms_3uksbjBiaDOYmra9Tebft-bSrbOK7oDFcIyF6qF1arwc/s1600/316.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASDZ7jr4KvoSfOfRlzpQzXUn3FmwtVUzOJnS66ovPfhzobhZPiZzM562d73b4Nnrq3Q6bM2Bm1pHEoiPtFfR8DDVDvENhms_3uksbjBiaDOYmra9Tebft-bSrbOK7oDFcIyF6qF1arwc/s640/316.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Once again, she caught him
staring, and impish smile appeared on her face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Have you ever kissed someone?”
she asked innocently, but her eyes were sparkling mischievously. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The question caused him to blush
and look away, instantly answering her question.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her smile broadened. “Me neither,”
she confessed,” but I’d like to change that. Would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>like to change it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Wha-“ He didn’t even have time to
finish his question before she leaned closer to him, and suddenly her lips were
against his, soft and supple. It caught him completely off-guard, but it was
something he’d been contemplating over for a while, so he gave in and
responded, exploring the experience.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jytuWVfZsgyfCJ4zIRUj7CvWXqM-m3IDOMaGaQgQ2nK5iQh6SxTHf-CuSNi7eSpwqXsd9L2VMyujVM4rvp46j27wdrXIFtr36HHXySgpuXfYzwITvVkYX1LI6pCjXQk1I452n2VbDfw/s1600/316.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_jytuWVfZsgyfCJ4zIRUj7CvWXqM-m3IDOMaGaQgQ2nK5iQh6SxTHf-CuSNi7eSpwqXsd9L2VMyujVM4rvp46j27wdrXIFtr36HHXySgpuXfYzwITvVkYX1LI6pCjXQk1I452n2VbDfw/s640/316.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He liked it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He couldn’t say how long the kiss
had lasted, but when she drew away, he was a little disappointed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And now, with that,” she declared grinningly,
“you have to be my boyfriend. Okay?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He blinked owlishly at her
statement, not quite believing he’d heard right, but there was no deception in
her eyes and she was clearly waiting for an answer.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbd1fSWBLJod1k3ZzDoGtwzxIcKIJMmmWwF4-FISIatndswvU2Yl0UEn3fOoxri7GDd7_h_n8KUbLy9gI_H_7C7lKoShSgRNCQt66khIOx6h6TJUHqEOagd9Z3AqjDuH-XIBYk_i2gbSE/s1600/316.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbd1fSWBLJod1k3ZzDoGtwzxIcKIJMmmWwF4-FISIatndswvU2Yl0UEn3fOoxri7GDd7_h_n8KUbLy9gI_H_7C7lKoShSgRNCQt66khIOx6h6TJUHqEOagd9Z3AqjDuH-XIBYk_i2gbSE/s640/316.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Okay,” he agreed bemusedly, and
when her face lit up with her happy smile, he couldn’t help but grin back,
excited by the change in their relationship. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He couldn’t wait to see what the
future would bring.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The weather remained blistery cold
as time went by, confining people to their houses. The days went by without any
real incident, and days turned into weeks, and then into months.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mHngdf12zdIdV3-Coem-4zn7rVjgOIaLq1ojcFY2EFhok1XjoW50wI44PUtwyqdESeUtm4tbW7uUTbOuCbx184qYQt5yfmKNrB2cMhedNBSdOx8nCEGDrXT38AUSG7krZFdiYn2eVSA/s1600/316.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mHngdf12zdIdV3-Coem-4zn7rVjgOIaLq1ojcFY2EFhok1XjoW50wI44PUtwyqdESeUtm4tbW7uUTbOuCbx184qYQt5yfmKNrB2cMhedNBSdOx8nCEGDrXT38AUSG7krZFdiYn2eVSA/s640/316.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Time was spent idly.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7rOK73IeUVzm_6mpXtoP0H9dGy3zLsTpLWtP5UVRkRfKci7CJg5wvedMZbIqCMCPqVbE60U6MHU28T0MRrZDYmKXgF_jnTC6mR3ac86LwKySKhh8j_JE6ZlzEs6uiNFQxoFDBv94EPo/s1600/316.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7rOK73IeUVzm_6mpXtoP0H9dGy3zLsTpLWtP5UVRkRfKci7CJg5wvedMZbIqCMCPqVbE60U6MHU28T0MRrZDYmKXgF_jnTC6mR3ac86LwKySKhh8j_JE6ZlzEs6uiNFQxoFDBv94EPo/s640/316.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Playing.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GwmRwGo_dz_oqekwo1fz58S9CzkbjEz2ETaW2QvIOrlKudur_uHfYMldQc4Goif43atAVDbT1_YU193N2p0IcYUoOq9sF3co_H4BPT1nsEHOXLT56tpVwEW0LRVte_XhWF3tnJVtrxc/s1600/316.36a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GwmRwGo_dz_oqekwo1fz58S9CzkbjEz2ETaW2QvIOrlKudur_uHfYMldQc4Goif43atAVDbT1_YU193N2p0IcYUoOq9sF3co_H4BPT1nsEHOXLT56tpVwEW0LRVte_XhWF3tnJVtrxc/s640/316.36a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGt50qpAnC0hvHiIbFVsHLxd_saWe_wKXMge6vFeyRCjVGIiTNMnKfhFvHOjwuAN8A7ptgZXBPUkXOCjOIGRJZBZMth5tuOY9dJW_1JFFAtYEdVBhpMj3ZDRqtwf5g0Ls0hYdKWxxlKeM/s1600/316.36b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGt50qpAnC0hvHiIbFVsHLxd_saWe_wKXMge6vFeyRCjVGIiTNMnKfhFvHOjwuAN8A7ptgZXBPUkXOCjOIGRJZBZMth5tuOY9dJW_1JFFAtYEdVBhpMj3ZDRqtwf5g0Ls0hYdKWxxlKeM/s640/316.36b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NFjkjiVEvX_OQYXPeYjaxZWHeeM4VSD6VZ-cPOANaMrjMATReOCS2E7NgoMurg4tf7f2KJuFKH4gjQm7PCuRxFsEfgls0ZMkQ7GvMoYEO6GzYk4eMsXOLU4joDO_3tLhmjgAMNe5UCc/s1600/316.36c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NFjkjiVEvX_OQYXPeYjaxZWHeeM4VSD6VZ-cPOANaMrjMATReOCS2E7NgoMurg4tf7f2KJuFKH4gjQm7PCuRxFsEfgls0ZMkQ7GvMoYEO6GzYk4eMsXOLU4joDO_3tLhmjgAMNe5UCc/s640/316.36c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Training.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3kl4CLzUkgp2PujwYGpf_hQzE3_rSZ4WdWGSFygNUwUqj2XGBQJzn_x_cCzBYHbVYhUqTsES7KIn2hHU7pM21J3TpzFhuJ5UX2S3TEEGAB3mVx6QjK95pCqCW9pm_RIMfvJx41QOPH0/s1600/316.37a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3kl4CLzUkgp2PujwYGpf_hQzE3_rSZ4WdWGSFygNUwUqj2XGBQJzn_x_cCzBYHbVYhUqTsES7KIn2hHU7pM21J3TpzFhuJ5UX2S3TEEGAB3mVx6QjK95pCqCW9pm_RIMfvJx41QOPH0/s640/316.37a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDMeoiKxtyUZtBbXZqzR6WPiWVFK2e0F3-RLFR5kfUmbzXpsgexpTnnbZ0xD-pW5myk7Na0x6r7HlK7I0woXqZY9HC9NAGlb_je3t4cKWRs6G6_y5nz1gNpGSr-qoQ7WV-F3lKktIC4g/s1600/316.37b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDMeoiKxtyUZtBbXZqzR6WPiWVFK2e0F3-RLFR5kfUmbzXpsgexpTnnbZ0xD-pW5myk7Na0x6r7HlK7I0woXqZY9HC9NAGlb_je3t4cKWRs6G6_y5nz1gNpGSr-qoQ7WV-F3lKktIC4g/s640/316.37b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgite03xfFhGji5iymmnLgba9BAvMQVGi18_lJ8Eo8k2ORtrK37EfwyGKDZvHl55HaRGOhl0CqlAw8JTb52G6O0gmIr4ou63egv4wDm1_EONHXhp4iwafSfnuq_sls1HUbLmxP9tJ3TI/s1600/316.37c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgite03xfFhGji5iymmnLgba9BAvMQVGi18_lJ8Eo8k2ORtrK37EfwyGKDZvHl55HaRGOhl0CqlAw8JTb52G6O0gmIr4ou63egv4wDm1_EONHXhp4iwafSfnuq_sls1HUbLmxP9tJ3TI/s640/316.37c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Dating.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycrMZyFLC3EcHoOL9oli0js0OQTxHVcClWZCaquH7dWOGHYm30_9bxU192Vye2VEOrMDQuvwf_G9o8Et_BNtagprzN-f95_xRI8tHa7Gn55hmNCyifAuYITamsQPH0xl0O9mRwavnSvk/s1600/316.38a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgycrMZyFLC3EcHoOL9oli0js0OQTxHVcClWZCaquH7dWOGHYm30_9bxU192Vye2VEOrMDQuvwf_G9o8Et_BNtagprzN-f95_xRI8tHa7Gn55hmNCyifAuYITamsQPH0xl0O9mRwavnSvk/s640/316.38a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qFQ66xIhqvL6AkPLzI1xY6aaPHKUxWlEfEYefUk_U2DDGzbryUslv04fLzj__eMVM3Icvyyea7YHlG5MZ_seBbbTTSNTVdFKFq-oQ1ipzThYqtjf_dxvRuzXjC_T_O3Y7P90XcMATko/s1600/316.38b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qFQ66xIhqvL6AkPLzI1xY6aaPHKUxWlEfEYefUk_U2DDGzbryUslv04fLzj__eMVM3Icvyyea7YHlG5MZ_seBbbTTSNTVdFKFq-oQ1ipzThYqtjf_dxvRuzXjC_T_O3Y7P90XcMATko/s640/316.38b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGH79YC5wn2bgekYomFTRW8LvnTJgLNFCmO44avgIYrXdECllAgAA02ZgwWOUtLY4UDVVtB3pf7sr6QkbnRGKyfSABXo0GtFccWVumNZWvCwdyGWYBDL9_RGhU7gtven6tkaRiEgEysfU/s1600/316.38c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGH79YC5wn2bgekYomFTRW8LvnTJgLNFCmO44avgIYrXdECllAgAA02ZgwWOUtLY4UDVVtB3pf7sr6QkbnRGKyfSABXo0GtFccWVumNZWvCwdyGWYBDL9_RGhU7gtven6tkaRiEgEysfU/s640/316.38c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Fighting.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizvcr1VbhIFEQzF-nBzfs1vBbhEBSdmQt86HC8wuwIr77NLQoqYlijDdW0XtoWA7aZJeq2mnsXa2_1rFr4vsbXAFVd0-vo0f1fgprbDhQm21lWPr0ZnosGbCRPQ4jW3qftSta4JBkKEs/s1600/316.39a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizvcr1VbhIFEQzF-nBzfs1vBbhEBSdmQt86HC8wuwIr77NLQoqYlijDdW0XtoWA7aZJeq2mnsXa2_1rFr4vsbXAFVd0-vo0f1fgprbDhQm21lWPr0ZnosGbCRPQ4jW3qftSta4JBkKEs/s640/316.39a.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9JyrK3oThmKKiE53jZN4gF0BPJxIQa7INhkEWvP5ooSOVlks6DDK8Mn3WQH_vLsJsJNJvFbNvW8dkMMs0UnsnhuZdLnV5s7sFwXyICGvoCWolq2-adFc1aCWBFB92qE9FyI1IFSMz0k/s1600/316.39b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9JyrK3oThmKKiE53jZN4gF0BPJxIQa7INhkEWvP5ooSOVlks6DDK8Mn3WQH_vLsJsJNJvFbNvW8dkMMs0UnsnhuZdLnV5s7sFwXyICGvoCWolq2-adFc1aCWBFB92qE9FyI1IFSMz0k/s640/316.39b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJVd-w6KbaHsj9L5v1vhJtTRfvCK-cpFssu7Lw8ULaMiBZ35RpwIgX_TPJqGcebj3Uako4K2C9oyAAtLB56kVh3JOFQcuaPq_I07Xc7OgAQNvXYSeLkKurRc6tAFRhjx2-nxfbVncOrA/s1600/316.39c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJVd-w6KbaHsj9L5v1vhJtTRfvCK-cpFssu7Lw8ULaMiBZ35RpwIgX_TPJqGcebj3Uako4K2C9oyAAtLB56kVh3JOFQcuaPq_I07Xc7OgAQNvXYSeLkKurRc6tAFRhjx2-nxfbVncOrA/s640/316.39c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Nothing truly of note happened.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">People woke up.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Went to school.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDu__TqFVP6crt8HAzloq1cJQUEJSkk9-xOJ8kaoWHeFK4Le-bl6yNxv3QhfRNobK-iHxYuQm6_XNyUtFsueVVHvBB-f3n1AUFnnD693vwrTks5Ui_U71K7sdMku8gMWgmPwKGKw342E/s1600/316.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDu__TqFVP6crt8HAzloq1cJQUEJSkk9-xOJ8kaoWHeFK4Le-bl6yNxv3QhfRNobK-iHxYuQm6_XNyUtFsueVVHvBB-f3n1AUFnnD693vwrTks5Ui_U71K7sdMku8gMWgmPwKGKw342E/s640/316.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Worked.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o4NUOQ5VdV7W-6t9rozPmFJfTzMp6Xm5To5vR1w2hOx1q0X5v5FkqiEpd6ZOp3Z09ZrcqM8NAFDzfrUEzVI10LLoASmMI5HF3_5HYm4eRc_EH-fE7SrBX7TJ7p4r0-Ydy9rJqEYMiAU/s1600/316.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o4NUOQ5VdV7W-6t9rozPmFJfTzMp6Xm5To5vR1w2hOx1q0X5v5FkqiEpd6ZOp3Z09ZrcqM8NAFDzfrUEzVI10LLoASmMI5HF3_5HYm4eRc_EH-fE7SrBX7TJ7p4r0-Ydy9rJqEYMiAU/s640/316.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Came home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Spent time with their loved ones.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKQlXacvlWMZASfgfk18BqYV34Nofx7w1wcn2uOjFsyt1iwgR6M03pc6vPGUuuimBcyjS3QXLkAhunHfK-LNlR8Dh2a_Lx76G1Ykq_RGKLAPuZapu6r-P3rurrzfF88rC1JUSIrlGMTw/s1600/316.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKQlXacvlWMZASfgfk18BqYV34Nofx7w1wcn2uOjFsyt1iwgR6M03pc6vPGUuuimBcyjS3QXLkAhunHfK-LNlR8Dh2a_Lx76G1Ykq_RGKLAPuZapu6r-P3rurrzfF88rC1JUSIrlGMTw/s640/316.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Went to bed.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacR5sONTO83z2byr_iu83YZFmxeAcYnzKSx9eqLzfEtP9QiKjjeH4aSYTfXZxUSdLGEylUSFpsdZhUQOVQnPa5Mr9h33PPVLhRGvW-2h6ztoQrPKPN30qXGOjEqCnaWLfVJsbVJtNhso/s1600/316.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacR5sONTO83z2byr_iu83YZFmxeAcYnzKSx9eqLzfEtP9QiKjjeH4aSYTfXZxUSdLGEylUSFpsdZhUQOVQnPa5Mr9h33PPVLhRGvW-2h6ztoQrPKPN30qXGOjEqCnaWLfVJsbVJtNhso/s640/316.45.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was just life in its purest
form.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And then Mireille became a teen.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOuimXC8FujL9L-m9wv1eklcZfEdNvdOOOp-C9aGFFevg-HZATP2Xc6E6SYSPZER9ebWXPRHUDv65bBoYIM7HuiRR22hEOmqigRGCqC5OtasP5gvNAtVwbW_JCh3IeepPUyElhoX3VpE/s1600/316.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOuimXC8FujL9L-m9wv1eklcZfEdNvdOOOp-C9aGFFevg-HZATP2Xc6E6SYSPZER9ebWXPRHUDv65bBoYIM7HuiRR22hEOmqigRGCqC5OtasP5gvNAtVwbW_JCh3IeepPUyElhoX3VpE/s640/316.46.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And now the drama can start again.
XD</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lol. Kiki <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loves </i>route-blocking Mireille. There’s only one tile space between
Mireille’s bed and the wall, and that one tile seems to be Kiki’s favourite
space to sleep. It’s annoying, but kinda funny at the same time, because
Mireille <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>scowls at her.
They’ve got this love-hate relationship thing going on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">And whoops. Apparently, I chose
the wrong twin for Reagan. I made him ask Joelle to prom, which she happily
agreed to. The day after prom, he rolled a wish to kiss <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Daniella</i>. Well. A little more warning would’ve been appreciated,
Reagan. But oh well. He’s stuck with Joelle now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Also, please ignore the prom photo
of the prom-that-technically-hasn’t-happened-yet in that first shot of Reagan’s
room. >.> (I am a little disappointed they decided to waste all my effort
getting them dressed up nicely by getting their photo in their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">outerwear.</i>)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I added two new families to my
town:</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 26.5pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Archer (Junpei, Finley)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt 26.5pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sparrow (Dustin, Meghan, Jyoti, Jet)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Thanks so much for sharing them, guys!</span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-25659015217955402232017-12-20T10:07:00.001+02:002017-12-20T10:29:53.126+02:00Chapter 3.15 - Hopeless Little Wish<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><b>*Warning: Bad language, as usual* </b></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan smiled at Blaise, letting his strong and deep voice wash over
him. He loved listening to Blaise’s stories. They were always so exciting and
thrilling and best of all, they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i>.
Everything Blaise told him were things that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really
</i>happened while he and Reagan’s parents had been fighting in Howell Island,
protecting the rest of the world from evil forces.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">How <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cool </i>was that?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSsRwF9oLMIbT1Hwekep8718ULMpA5O57zRkG5DUwyhMYqxRinUCZSmtzrRg0yV5j5qP15d6HqBRp7ifSJ_8wtKMIROWYr2eVLW7G1S-gpDwel8yMC5cMK0wz1a7yPEULwVLQrAgYXF4/s1600/315.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSsRwF9oLMIbT1Hwekep8718ULMpA5O57zRkG5DUwyhMYqxRinUCZSmtzrRg0yV5j5qP15d6HqBRp7ifSJ_8wtKMIROWYr2eVLW7G1S-gpDwel8yMC5cMK0wz1a7yPEULwVLQrAgYXF4/s640/315.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They had learned all about Howell Island in school today. How it’s an
island where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone </i>is fighting, or
supporting those who are. It’s the only place in the whole world where evil
things can enter, so the people on the island all fight <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every day </i>to protect the rest of the world. They were all heroes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He </i>was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">son </i>of heroes.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Again, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so cool</i>. But you know
what would’ve been even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cooler</i>? Being
able to meet them. But he knew that was impossible, so he kept the hopeless
little wish deeply hidden inside his heart.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His godfather had also been a fighter on the island. He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also </i>a hero. He even had a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dragon</i>. Not everyone could say that.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2qQHVeNveVXnrQgr9TEc7NqJ8GQ63_onks06k0TMBidlAwhJQtCx4lYUK9ZL2FItYp9yUnCNNPki_sls9FkR3ACMBXyQ5e_q0qFfy-JtizdbKkEVCMtz0IxK52Wa6ENaYgVOcG0WJCw/s1600/315.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2qQHVeNveVXnrQgr9TEc7NqJ8GQ63_onks06k0TMBidlAwhJQtCx4lYUK9ZL2FItYp9yUnCNNPki_sls9FkR3ACMBXyQ5e_q0qFfy-JtizdbKkEVCMtz0IxK52Wa6ENaYgVOcG0WJCw/s640/315.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He glanced over at the photos on the wall. He thought his parents were
really cool, but sometimes, just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sometimes,
</i>he wished they weren’t his parents. He wished Blaise and Lyra were. He
couldn’t imagine anyone being better than them.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Something on your mind, kiddo?” Blaise’s voice broke through his
thoughts. Reagan flashed him a bright smile in response.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Just thinking ‘bout stupid stuff,” the boy laughed brightly and settled
back against his bed to hear more of the story.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTW1t-AXXTHlbJn90OaX78przgB_KDu8yWmMMCo02bNbu11rEKdIeluEQvyxFl4BwCf_mirFBLAg_osxeC3PESU1q7xjZQLPz-tNPt3bA0tpv451qm2iNhUkW5SdA3vU_4mFEdWk-NXI/s1600/315.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTW1t-AXXTHlbJn90OaX78przgB_KDu8yWmMMCo02bNbu11rEKdIeluEQvyxFl4BwCf_mirFBLAg_osxeC3PESU1q7xjZQLPz-tNPt3bA0tpv451qm2iNhUkW5SdA3vU_4mFEdWk-NXI/s640/315.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise affectionately ruffled Reagan’s hair and continued with the
story. Reagan wasn’t sure when he lost track of the story, but when he felt
Blaise’s hand resting warmly on his back through a sleepy haze, he smiled
happily and allowed sleep to pull him under.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGaBlmpNaeotxmpV2NVZKBenp-8KIjX0pBR4BySgPxVKIx1kSBubNeCfy40NtayQ5QIi40SNEqQHsTdH5TWS5D5nE6vpKE0PCewbun0_8knBzLpfsRa1D-ue1NoXakDq-Ds9qLBb-GIM/s1600/315.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGaBlmpNaeotxmpV2NVZKBenp-8KIjX0pBR4BySgPxVKIx1kSBubNeCfy40NtayQ5QIi40SNEqQHsTdH5TWS5D5nE6vpKE0PCewbun0_8knBzLpfsRa1D-ue1NoXakDq-Ds9qLBb-GIM/s640/315.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The next morning, the house was a flurry of activity. Mireille was
finally old enough to start school, and she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>happy about it.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s stupid,” Mireille declared with a massive scowl. “Why do I have to
go? School is for dummies.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Dummies or not, you still have to go,” Lyra insisted sternly. Mireille
pressed her lips together and her scowl deepened, and Reagan <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>the girl was gearing up to throw a
tantrum. Reagan wolfed down his breakfast, eager to make a break-away before
the Mireille-shaped stick of dynamite exploded.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re not impressing anyone,
Mireille,” Blaise interrupted the girl before she could get going, his own brow
lowered in an irritated scowl. “You’re going and that’s final. Now, finish your
breakfast and get dressed. The school bus is almost here.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqA2TxwHMiMPX39ViREs9P7qd5e4XrxXCL2_dkck-KXuzFjm1h3sxOQFNcJHXuUi6MnWPufn3OemXwVB_mxOa6ab9Zq8c_VKg9C1Go4cvGCWUb56lefctG8Q0MMXk5fa5Stdzbk-5tFs/s1600/315.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmqA2TxwHMiMPX39ViREs9P7qd5e4XrxXCL2_dkck-KXuzFjm1h3sxOQFNcJHXuUi6MnWPufn3OemXwVB_mxOa6ab9Zq8c_VKg9C1Go4cvGCWUb56lefctG8Q0MMXk5fa5Stdzbk-5tFs/s640/315.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Mireille scowled even deeper, but obeyed her dad’s orders without
complaint. Reagan smiled tentatively at Blaise, amazed by the ease by which his
godfather had diffused the situation.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Minutes later the school bus arrived, and Reagan rushed off to school
with a happy smile, Mireille joining him sulkily.</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJ29YdbKF8wJTOMHLVQqYSSZ-V1g1V4zVUWHbSFOGYHuZp6vi2-9mqh-3DgjTViNDAoEYYjcTR7LBbYZjkqh5xss8-cH8E1aI3jIyc5YlXtM7fcCRT71uJAp5CHVL7xLabIEtIc6zQK0/s1600/315.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJ29YdbKF8wJTOMHLVQqYSSZ-V1g1V4zVUWHbSFOGYHuZp6vi2-9mqh-3DgjTViNDAoEYYjcTR7LBbYZjkqh5xss8-cH8E1aI3jIyc5YlXtM7fcCRT71uJAp5CHVL7xLabIEtIc6zQK0/s640/315.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know, it’s autumn,” Joelle
declared mischievously during lunch-break, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It’s the season of weird and spooky stuff, of horrors and ghost stories. We
should do something scary. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ve </i>heard
that if you go to the graveyard after midnight, sometimes, you can see actual
ghosts. We should totally do that.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan frowned slightly at the suggestion. What was so scary about the
graveyard, or seeing ghosts? He just didn’t see the appeal.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9hjKIuN6I7-HajrtvV23HjUXZDoQPmweAAgVz1lh-WWZXDYLOo9LO318xI96QPm2EZuavZaQx6n50uaF9IrnuRa80Z7CJzQIKLnmYMqRayghdBuYxLpwu6aioZ5ogiCbbbd2JXLv2SQ/s1600/315.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9hjKIuN6I7-HajrtvV23HjUXZDoQPmweAAgVz1lh-WWZXDYLOo9LO318xI96QPm2EZuavZaQx6n50uaF9IrnuRa80Z7CJzQIKLnmYMqRayghdBuYxLpwu6aioZ5ogiCbbbd2JXLv2SQ/s640/315.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s after curfew,” he pointed
out. Both Joelle and Daniella turned to him, looking at him like he had just
said the stupidest thing possible.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Who cares?” Daniella challenged. “It’s the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">graveyard</i>. At night. If you’re too scared to go, just say so.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“There’s nothing scary about the graveyard,” Reagan insisted, and after
that sentence, the twins <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would </i>not
get off his case until he agreed to go.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Which was why he was currently listening to Mireille’s excited chatter
with only half an ear, wondering how he was going to sneak out of the house.
Sneaking out was a horrible idea, but he had to go. He’d promised he’d go.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cmtV1Hnx3UCdQ1dFTj7pAHrHGqI9kDu73DLRvi03pZ-QAmII_B-q1JrI2ir4Nd6W3xByi0bXqpqaAcTn_DGF1Kq_z0wqTQOmLiwO52sLhWbHMgEcCEzNAKz3kvSKh_KzRMbS-muEVOU/s1600/315.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cmtV1Hnx3UCdQ1dFTj7pAHrHGqI9kDu73DLRvi03pZ-QAmII_B-q1JrI2ir4Nd6W3xByi0bXqpqaAcTn_DGF1Kq_z0wqTQOmLiwO52sLhWbHMgEcCEzNAKz3kvSKh_KzRMbS-muEVOU/s640/315.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He obediently went to bed at bed-time, but once he was sure Mireille was
asleep in her bed and therefore unable to rat him out, he quietly got up and
dressed. The rest of the house was dark and quiet as well, so Reagan took it as
his cue to sneak out.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The graveyard was a bit creepy at night, with shadows falling over
everything and the tree branches creaking ominously, but he still couldn’t
understand why the twins found it so scary. The air was snappy and cold, and it
wasn’t long before the novelty of the entire thing wore off.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is boring,” Joelle declared
after they walked through the graveyard several times, investigating the graves
and reading the names on the headstones, “and it’s cold. Let’s go home.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIgKUDsShIubVL059cmGrUc34KE0bGzOArx5xXjQtuhKdMuZj6aGS3RvfP3qt85gKhI4-ml03PBl56jntqYozWGzSOY46TGLEgKEFXfiSL7zqqgmefu_oMr-QPSUl6d6qdNNl8aOzJGs/s1600/315.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIgKUDsShIubVL059cmGrUc34KE0bGzOArx5xXjQtuhKdMuZj6aGS3RvfP3qt85gKhI4-ml03PBl56jntqYozWGzSOY46TGLEgKEFXfiSL7zqqgmefu_oMr-QPSUl6d6qdNNl8aOzJGs/s640/315.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hmm,” Reagan agreed
half-heartedly, his attention fixated on the pair of graves beside him. The
names engraved on the stone were as familiar to him as his own. “You guys go.
I’m gonna stay a bit.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Joelle shot him a dubious glance, but didn’t argue.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hmm, okay,” she agreed blithely,
“but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we’re </i>going. See you tomorrow.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“See you,” Reagan agreed, and a minute later he was alone in the dark
graveyard. He took a seat in front of the graves, quietly studying every groove
and line in the stone. Here was irrefutable proof that his parents had lived
and died.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CQ7VxzYRKiyZcb0mgqnhKNDYLVooO217j3eTjwNqfazPuNdhNKE_NufcynU5aed_cm4yoUDmzYFKrLqtr1Cc8FMM1zx_668r6Z77D-4mboK_0RAdT3TSS9-xmLP93FVP_9WbRYRiU_0/s1600/315.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CQ7VxzYRKiyZcb0mgqnhKNDYLVooO217j3eTjwNqfazPuNdhNKE_NufcynU5aed_cm4yoUDmzYFKrLqtr1Cc8FMM1zx_668r6Z77D-4mboK_0RAdT3TSS9-xmLP93FVP_9WbRYRiU_0/s640/315.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There were so many things he wanted to say and tell them, but he kept
quiet. He wanted to say it face to face, not to some cold and empty stone. It
was just another hopeless little wish of his.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">This was stupid. He should’ve gone with the twins.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He got up to go home, but when he turned around, he thought his heart
was going to stop from shock.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His mom was standing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right in
front of him</i>. It was a dream come true.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkQpS8_VVjImzp6L2H_0cWp_crkPh01cGqMFGyKBpcwoyIpIeJVEQnrasX3Bn5firq3L2qJOUtuLGZ7u0ICa1dH_gN9qKUxK9wICbO9PHapByyo-E_SrtoxW4ba8RzkivhOFnmSA35zs/s1600/315.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkQpS8_VVjImzp6L2H_0cWp_crkPh01cGqMFGyKBpcwoyIpIeJVEQnrasX3Bn5firq3L2qJOUtuLGZ7u0ICa1dH_gN9qKUxK9wICbO9PHapByyo-E_SrtoxW4ba8RzkivhOFnmSA35zs/s640/315.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are…are you my mom?” he asked
before he could stop himself, his heart beating wildly in his chest.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Reagan,” the ghost whispered reverently, her voice echoing eerily. Her
hand cupped his cheek, the sensation cold and strange against his skin. “I’ve
dreamt about you so much. Please, may I hug you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan gave a small nod, a little overwhelmed, but he wrapped his arms
around his mom – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his mom! – </i>in
return, gladly accepting the hug. It couldn’t compare to Lyra’s, but it was a
good hug. His <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mom </i>was hugging him,
and that was probably the coolest thing ever.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Oucgi3BFHUVepDcGpATJTxA5IJ2C-BCoNJQQUBECdSSmNgWO96a9QQRQD94q6Bm6UlUN7glTPEh-KmQvN1bToNy5UakXLISs6nR0Zogd2xc4mngBGrs9un8KRuhXqDagQJqLyEjBZPM/s1600/315.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Oucgi3BFHUVepDcGpATJTxA5IJ2C-BCoNJQQUBECdSSmNgWO96a9QQRQD94q6Bm6UlUN7glTPEh-KmQvN1bToNy5UakXLISs6nR0Zogd2xc4mngBGrs9un8KRuhXqDagQJqLyEjBZPM/s640/315.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">All the things he had ever wanted to tell his parents spilled over his
lips, and he simply couldn’t stop speaking, talking about everything and
nothing. The cold and any fatigue he might’ve felt from the late hour was
completely forgotten as he revelled in the novelty of speaking to his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mom</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fHeigntmuhEuNakSq6S6XLDZcRi8m0Q5TVS6wDw-4-v7kFgYD6JO55JKFfnh0CfhBUNEIX7JtdrhR1NBrcHvXbTTNf-GfisYPfdXcpYInFNM6uVLHc0UGsBPwr8V_JSZeob33Ztkk3g/s1600/315.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fHeigntmuhEuNakSq6S6XLDZcRi8m0Q5TVS6wDw-4-v7kFgYD6JO55JKFfnh0CfhBUNEIX7JtdrhR1NBrcHvXbTTNf-GfisYPfdXcpYInFNM6uVLHc0UGsBPwr8V_JSZeob33Ztkk3g/s640/315.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd9I5_ol_JbFr4ZRDLNLz_wYcRXHH6Mep4tcQ-73D1dUMBx7ufjoDmX8DlneluHfxMe_z5ersDbke_TNx-07ryDgE7z2qGVLXKQ1WALWfduvFNv43jY4brLTx9IRawBsI_OQDRkzfqNc/s1600/315.13b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd9I5_ol_JbFr4ZRDLNLz_wYcRXHH6Mep4tcQ-73D1dUMBx7ufjoDmX8DlneluHfxMe_z5ersDbke_TNx-07ryDgE7z2qGVLXKQ1WALWfduvFNv43jY4brLTx9IRawBsI_OQDRkzfqNc/s640/315.13b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRicx0rsyKSeRZWJwBMGU4MU-un2XumhMgaYo2g8-trJFvXrFduzaIVDoQPYG3c6ZYPF4wert3iflQbTpSslmGOLOrD-rp0hzHLLKh_WbUyDXUQrwpm4V38H-WdPh4g82fK5gk44iY7U/s1600/315.13c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRicx0rsyKSeRZWJwBMGU4MU-un2XumhMgaYo2g8-trJFvXrFduzaIVDoQPYG3c6ZYPF4wert3iflQbTpSslmGOLOrD-rp0hzHLLKh_WbUyDXUQrwpm4V38H-WdPh4g82fK5gk44iY7U/s640/315.13c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The sky was already starting to grow grey from the light of the new day
before the spell was broken.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V5LHYwGZDAApYSadEjD72IB0BaN3mXsShc8gu5BTLfZvL2-w-Wd3VdjiDr6W98eBPYgNhcwC3NkNDUAUyncrXWvBRtwqOF0P2sVVCwh6zGP83vWjBH_4HuYIRpSLnoTWEWLBlKbPkaE/s1600/315.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V5LHYwGZDAApYSadEjD72IB0BaN3mXsShc8gu5BTLfZvL2-w-Wd3VdjiDr6W98eBPYgNhcwC3NkNDUAUyncrXWvBRtwqOF0P2sVVCwh6zGP83vWjBH_4HuYIRpSLnoTWEWLBlKbPkaE/s640/315.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Reagan,” his mother gently
interrupted his latest tale, staring at the greying sky. “You should go home.
Blaise is probably worried about you.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He frowned, very reluctant to let the dream end.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“But I want to talk to you more,” he protested, but she shook her head
and gave him a gentle smile.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6w71H51n1o93iYak7Cz-mBYYSWEYsUMQkqIZSOr2uWM45MQn7z0jzFtA43S709UGsZYypnapaLFgUqWZAKpGD230zh3-WII-tKa2Bsd5XFXqViUo3ODWzveNMhBs0Zl3ceXgfUeNZGvc/s1600/315.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6w71H51n1o93iYak7Cz-mBYYSWEYsUMQkqIZSOr2uWM45MQn7z0jzFtA43S709UGsZYypnapaLFgUqWZAKpGD230zh3-WII-tKa2Bsd5XFXqViUo3ODWzveNMhBs0Zl3ceXgfUeNZGvc/s640/315.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m so grateful for this past
night, but you have to go home,” she insisted. “I don’t belong here, and when
the sun rises I will disappear. I only came because I wanted to meet you, but I
can’t stay, no matter how badly I want to. I don’t belong here.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Y3kI40tLfdMhOF36Rouv3yE8Zz-JnRy2uf9jIS3Qe6RP6HwTDBBXV5JMnpJv7M2UEBWCuCPthx9ISiq_Egda3IJd_V1CqCfBeIcUphSX2dqOdJ0eKN0Iol6HNeu0OKpaO_ceAB3xeJk/s1600/315.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Y3kI40tLfdMhOF36Rouv3yE8Zz-JnRy2uf9jIS3Qe6RP6HwTDBBXV5JMnpJv7M2UEBWCuCPthx9ISiq_Egda3IJd_V1CqCfBeIcUphSX2dqOdJ0eKN0Iol6HNeu0OKpaO_ceAB3xeJk/s640/315.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan blinked at the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t ready for the night
to be over yet, but it had already been more than he could’ve hoped for. His
hopeless little wish had come true, so it would be too selfish to wish for
more.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His mom was already dead. He had to remember that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Alright,” he mumbled, disheartened, refusing to look at her. She gave
him one last hug before the sun peeked over the horizon and she disappeared
into a cloud of light.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4OfXrsXLd3WUgOIAyivhNwSxRTjG666fzTkAKtFTewILOlqe1qdfDcpevqrqtytQcuhHXRE1Kg3GYvfMyqE5S3TObk30Xolsks7vbGFrQtWrpM5xSA6kv63tdYH8MRTiAlU38PiaD0E/s1600/315.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg4OfXrsXLd3WUgOIAyivhNwSxRTjG666fzTkAKtFTewILOlqe1qdfDcpevqrqtytQcuhHXRE1Kg3GYvfMyqE5S3TObk30Xolsks7vbGFrQtWrpM5xSA6kv63tdYH8MRTiAlU38PiaD0E/s640/315.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68VNRdhQtfnbbSi7u4n3tJyPIgm8Kw3RNqu1O0zaLZqNyxBwEpiiop9CBkGU3EO3XbJbfHw-oo6O-6s-lk5M_EjCvSafR8NjGv-XgPqPx_ISKyJSx1xQhbhdKvNTsFqdt8pPFK_7ft9Y/s1600/315.17b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68VNRdhQtfnbbSi7u4n3tJyPIgm8Kw3RNqu1O0zaLZqNyxBwEpiiop9CBkGU3EO3XbJbfHw-oo6O-6s-lk5M_EjCvSafR8NjGv-XgPqPx_ISKyJSx1xQhbhdKvNTsFqdt8pPFK_7ft9Y/s640/315.17b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvk6DmqtEweDnkmwFSqgM5qAYxoCC-BrchYauLGK9GiMOkviISxpiZno8t9BDQLrnU3Q7rX4ksTwryCSbGS_EgBebqI0dtqZARuKW5L9dDbdlglbfHqfll6YtxP1TdO4g5NByXcComGU/s1600/315.17c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvk6DmqtEweDnkmwFSqgM5qAYxoCC-BrchYauLGK9GiMOkviISxpiZno8t9BDQLrnU3Q7rX4ksTwryCSbGS_EgBebqI0dtqZARuKW5L9dDbdlglbfHqfll6YtxP1TdO4g5NByXcComGU/s640/315.17c.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It took all his willpower not no burst out in tears there and then.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpbL8EYQtDXVgVgiKVQ8EpJUSNKELJ-5jNR1npYE3bSSlcwEJXN_k5bGOPbtVq6gWiahXKg7Z0O-RCPelDC-waBtyPshK5SSaqiSdf4nqpBu4vF99AW018ieR3aMwvkrP1ROgt-8xWC8/s1600/315.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpbL8EYQtDXVgVgiKVQ8EpJUSNKELJ-5jNR1npYE3bSSlcwEJXN_k5bGOPbtVq6gWiahXKg7Z0O-RCPelDC-waBtyPshK5SSaqiSdf4nqpBu4vF99AW018ieR3aMwvkrP1ROgt-8xWC8/s640/315.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The journey home was a solemn one, and the cold air of the morning bit
into his face and seeped into his bones. The world was already starting to wake
up around him, and apprehension grew in Reagan’s stomach as he realised he’d
stayed way too long at the graveyard. There would be no way he’d be able to
sneak back in unnoticed.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise was waiting for him when he got home, arms crossed and brow
lowered.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3S5vtOBjePoCx9YMBuRJ3dLAuP7qx-c-JKUkMJd0WpwObnIQzzNTgQks3jfkgD9GU_ao5kh62067manmezaeOId1WAqHYhftqXF5guHLEneJFLw1wCgz9Qw12bXVCpoDZLaqQu6fY1cY/s1600/315.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3S5vtOBjePoCx9YMBuRJ3dLAuP7qx-c-JKUkMJd0WpwObnIQzzNTgQks3jfkgD9GU_ao5kh62067manmezaeOId1WAqHYhftqXF5guHLEneJFLw1wCgz9Qw12bXVCpoDZLaqQu6fY1cY/s640/315.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan averted his eyes, feeling incredibly guilty. He shouldn’t have
sneaked out, or he should’ve come back home earlier. Blaise and Lyra had enough
trouble already <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without </i>him causing
them to worry.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m sorry,” he mumbled before Blaise could say anything. “It was wrong
of me to sneak out, and I won’t do it again. Please don’t be angry.” </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1o00YnmeKTIVeEhUtlKm1LNQil7VqBe8u1s9xBRDyAxwg7JxpDcO2CZkNCJPQtFddw79_J8fUf_Sntw6m0YT3vshXMih4dBYAwef6DJpYnhcUw38zKED7LaSttZVSK0jNPj3Dp5DoZc/s1600/315.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1o00YnmeKTIVeEhUtlKm1LNQil7VqBe8u1s9xBRDyAxwg7JxpDcO2CZkNCJPQtFddw79_J8fUf_Sntw6m0YT3vshXMih4dBYAwef6DJpYnhcUw38zKED7LaSttZVSK0jNPj3Dp5DoZc/s640/315.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where were you?” Blaise demanded
in lieu of an answer. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Graveyard,” Reagan answered promptly. “It was a dare from Joelle, but
then…” He trailed off, wondering how to explain what followed. “I met my mom.
Her ghost. She was…she was very nice.” He swallowed heavily at the thickness in
his throat, already missing her even though he’d only just met her. It was so
stupid.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise broke the silence that followed with a heavy sigh and dropped his
angry stance.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come here,” he ordered brusquely
and dropped to his knee. Before Reagan had time to protest, Blaise engulfed him
in his arms, strong, familiar, and comforting. The lines of his body were still
tense and angry, but his breathing was calm and steady, and he didn’t say
anything else. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgYaI0Zb3Yyk_xcfC4QqeZDKTJjzYyDuBfhPK1wiwZP9J0IlTl3gfjhrZ92UPxK2eJQxUd_vsTkYRrUZ7dPD0ITDYyI_BFR7yumDhMSdfFexJYMU3x_YzLmylbOx_zudZREnZqm7_iPQ/s1600/315.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgYaI0Zb3Yyk_xcfC4QqeZDKTJjzYyDuBfhPK1wiwZP9J0IlTl3gfjhrZ92UPxK2eJQxUd_vsTkYRrUZ7dPD0ITDYyI_BFR7yumDhMSdfFexJYMU3x_YzLmylbOx_zudZREnZqm7_iPQ/s640/315.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan felt his eyes burn. It wasn’t fair. Blaise <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>be angry at him. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i>
be lecturing him or grounding him. He shouldn’t have known how badly Reagan
needed that hug, but somehow, he just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It wasn’t fair</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Why couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise</i> have been
his dad?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ9a-XVEJgrPkz67PXbWyljHOf2E8tNWPpG7of0GzZYCXqCApXyuQIJZ9iqRXgWsZG-YaPMqtlLwvW3EbzkaQmRLe-aHQ0yG_YhiEnVPWueLoKbV77XZcQS9m9oMVQ1etlLIluKkV7Lk/s1600/315.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ9a-XVEJgrPkz67PXbWyljHOf2E8tNWPpG7of0GzZYCXqCApXyuQIJZ9iqRXgWsZG-YaPMqtlLwvW3EbzkaQmRLe-aHQ0yG_YhiEnVPWueLoKbV77XZcQS9m9oMVQ1etlLIluKkV7Lk/s640/315.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wish,” he confessed guiltily,
his voice hitching as he tried to suppress his tears, “I wish they didn’t die.
I wish they were still here. I wish you and Lyra were my mom and dad. It’s not
fair.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise’s body stiffened at the confession, clearly caught by surprise.
He sighed slightly after a moment and pulled Reagan even closer.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDA25hodmOA0HIjHZfLTadum07VPXkmj63flqetUFt6yO3Wa9FKnwyUsaoQbi1bGqH2r0NdeKSza39DeG-66Meka_XOmRV-d32PwGlU3fuy0bPHZOHb_uQz9fg0M9uQ86cQCPF8P2ZTkc/s1600/315.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDA25hodmOA0HIjHZfLTadum07VPXkmj63flqetUFt6yO3Wa9FKnwyUsaoQbi1bGqH2r0NdeKSza39DeG-66Meka_XOmRV-d32PwGlU3fuy0bPHZOHb_uQz9fg0M9uQ86cQCPF8P2ZTkc/s640/315.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Of course it isn’t,” he agreed in a low murmur, his voice soft and
gruff in Reagan’s ear. “But the past can’t be changed, and the only thing we
can do is to move on. Lyra and I aren’t your parents, but never doubt that we
care for you as our own.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUziMPxC2E9hODBXxakgqIasOYJ8TQngwg2tQqHi-qtG4jM0XP3O3sdQkyn8mnBrPsCe99K7sVDxi8N4NSB5tmpw-cyQUYkkROm_ZLe6M201uXMmhai7rj2zrkeExbRyEmx_ki6h8k2w/s1600/315.23b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUziMPxC2E9hODBXxakgqIasOYJ8TQngwg2tQqHi-qtG4jM0XP3O3sdQkyn8mnBrPsCe99K7sVDxi8N4NSB5tmpw-cyQUYkkROm_ZLe6M201uXMmhai7rj2zrkeExbRyEmx_ki6h8k2w/s640/315.23b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know,” Reagan whispered into
his godfather’s shoulder. He did know. That was the problem. He couldn’t
imagine loving his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">own </i>parents more
than he loved Blaise and Lyra, and that wasn’t right. Hugging his mom had been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so cool</i>, but it just couldn’t compare to
this. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise ruffled Reagan’s hair at the answer and pulled away, standing up
again.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t think this means you’re not in trouble,” Blaise declared,
breaking the heavy atmosphere that had fallen between them. “Dishes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every </i>night. And if you want to spend
time with the twins after school, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you come
here.</i> Understand?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBO1bpVT_oMdcuUIEvbmd4SUUDfLTvzxbU855f488GUvizt6IGW15CNR_PMjNNiPYxGXK227H4mjlz-Z2OHqe8xCmHzk_N4dI1zbvLVI8qKwAeykTn0FaHEIDJrg1z5dckbgxTLKPlfk/s1600/315.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBO1bpVT_oMdcuUIEvbmd4SUUDfLTvzxbU855f488GUvizt6IGW15CNR_PMjNNiPYxGXK227H4mjlz-Z2OHqe8xCmHzk_N4dI1zbvLVI8qKwAeykTn0FaHEIDJrg1z5dckbgxTLKPlfk/s640/315.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan winced guiltily. He’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hoped
</i>Blaise wouldn’t say anything about punishment.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yes Blaise,” he agreed meekly.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille was bored. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So </i>bored.
She couldn’t understand why Reagan was always so willing to spend so much time
at home. There was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>to do. She
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could </i>play with Kiki, but lately the
cat’s been running away from her whenever she saw her, so even that wasn’t
really an option. Really, it wasn’t even like being dumped in a bath filled
with water was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>bad.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was. So. Bored.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She jumped off the couch and walked around the house, looking for
something to do, but again, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing</i>.
Well, there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>one thing that
wouldn’t be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">totally </i>boring…</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTd6XHXYd69-TK-zalxhdj1fhz70O21ufjSWJ39j-epEgeoiNOTA9qhZsze1LxmcpOANYZthRAlw15DKVozzTZaxgtf1IPn8HiWQcDEbJtNhuRsqidV2BKwiyPf8lyD4T9TaLqCLzVDEo/s1600/315.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTd6XHXYd69-TK-zalxhdj1fhz70O21ufjSWJ39j-epEgeoiNOTA9qhZsze1LxmcpOANYZthRAlw15DKVozzTZaxgtf1IPn8HiWQcDEbJtNhuRsqidV2BKwiyPf8lyD4T9TaLqCLzVDEo/s640/315.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Momentary amusement over and done with, Mireille left the house. There <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>to be something more interesting
somewhere else.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QOD0zYtMgJZP0rHGl7HrznFkLDFHYTu8EzVuIrywXjsJq4AG8mvlX3_Q2cpyP9hxly6xQXVQjvIDw-e28Vc2Wmn4g88Xu91l2wV_SlkjE0NHt2o3ev2F3nnKkVFqklTMksB5MY-AUDU/s1600/315.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QOD0zYtMgJZP0rHGl7HrznFkLDFHYTu8EzVuIrywXjsJq4AG8mvlX3_Q2cpyP9hxly6xQXVQjvIDw-e28Vc2Wmn4g88Xu91l2wV_SlkjE0NHt2o3ev2F3nnKkVFqklTMksB5MY-AUDU/s640/315.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan and her mom were in the garden, faffing over some dumb plants,
and her dad was doing pull-ups on that steel bar thing beside the treehouse. It
almost made her want to play in the treehouse, but she’d have to play alone and
playing alone was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no fun</i>. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could </i>ask Reagan to play with her, but
Reagan was such a push-over. Besides, lately he hadn’t been putting the same effort
into their games as usual, so it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boring
</i>playing with him.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Maybe she should go to the park. The Autumn Festival was still running,
wasn’t it? Maybe there would be something interesting to do.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKTFGV7ycdadOWKWhs1bETey5hbB3yz8U3s5YGkIt1rWV27ORl5kBfJ9uqXM5HYsGx3GalIE6e9uHPlLoKsILkiMJ769UOeTFrFkCa0nW6Zb7NzKn-0QDCleZUFzaR93dtVMlcMDRQ7A/s1600/315.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKTFGV7ycdadOWKWhs1bETey5hbB3yz8U3s5YGkIt1rWV27ORl5kBfJ9uqXM5HYsGx3GalIE6e9uHPlLoKsILkiMJ769UOeTFrFkCa0nW6Zb7NzKn-0QDCleZUFzaR93dtVMlcMDRQ7A/s640/315.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dad, can I go to the park?” she
asked, rambling off the question.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Go ahead,” he allowed, not even pausing in his exercises. He completed
one last pull-up before he jumped down and landed agilely on his feet, stinking
of sweat. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille wrinkled her nose.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Just make sure to be back in time for the party,” her dad continued,
giving no indication he noticed her disgust. “The whole family’s going to be
here, so don’t be late.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYEL1eVlPJM5zNHxs2tCG8dJWsEiuI0VFnuYSyBvbGxVsZy66fHo0wcbTa4fC50Jl_EDAydnn_I7H65vshX2YSIRAzr0gj1OVJfID5WJoaHJwCZU-nxMCXSJrU1Z0NMTBP8pLv3UX11o/s1600/315.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYEL1eVlPJM5zNHxs2tCG8dJWsEiuI0VFnuYSyBvbGxVsZy66fHo0wcbTa4fC50Jl_EDAydnn_I7H65vshX2YSIRAzr0gj1OVJfID5WJoaHJwCZU-nxMCXSJrU1Z0NMTBP8pLv3UX11o/s640/315.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille perked up at that. That was right. It was Reagan’s birthday,
which meant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>her cousins would
come, which meant things would no longer be boring. She couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wait </i>for that.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Cool, okay!” she rambled before bouncing off to her bike. She was sure
the festival would be able to entertain herself until her cousins arrived.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs6cE_IOWqWh9jZv-obA7W_ySGzAZVJA2lNGKaNKwnzmHFR4rv0oCCekTFT_-JaQLP7w_fyIAQU37S_lOMJiyuqE9LYNFJiW3Hz6C4F0EiYaluXYVhqOmShMJNTYzOk7qn4tcpmiN9PI/s1600/315.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs6cE_IOWqWh9jZv-obA7W_ySGzAZVJA2lNGKaNKwnzmHFR4rv0oCCekTFT_-JaQLP7w_fyIAQU37S_lOMJiyuqE9LYNFJiW3Hz6C4F0EiYaluXYVhqOmShMJNTYzOk7qn4tcpmiN9PI/s640/315.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spent an hour at the festival, exploring the attractions and looking
for someone to play with, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nobody </i>interesting
was around, and to be quite honest, there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>interesting about the festival. The most interesting of all
was the ‘haunted house’ and it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so
fake </i>only scaredy-cats would be afraid of it.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNFCl94ZHHzY-mjWOAj2GO50Z6Hy1_RhLOPsdUXjHI47a2id3JspxTIZ83TebuJLQe_6jQbW2KbhKRe_Q2WlslALKBq5psLAbXdVBUuDO1HX5ik1l7yyp3KKxsiF5Xw2UYu1CfN3LvYg/s1600/315.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNFCl94ZHHzY-mjWOAj2GO50Z6Hy1_RhLOPsdUXjHI47a2id3JspxTIZ83TebuJLQe_6jQbW2KbhKRe_Q2WlslALKBq5psLAbXdVBUuDO1HX5ik1l7yyp3KKxsiF5Xw2UYu1CfN3LvYg/s640/315.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQ07w9dWwYP7V0fpSWBXgaQy1kZiRjx-UUb9Mx8nVG5y0wJF_XxMEfQHW_DtlwLlRaD01hLGyP1D9RwwM9lyViO6gL3A-Ta-Axd4-ACuzePF_y5EfYEcploC9oWS_iNLt0s0SINDLlM4/s1600/315.30b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQ07w9dWwYP7V0fpSWBXgaQy1kZiRjx-UUb9Mx8nVG5y0wJF_XxMEfQHW_DtlwLlRaD01hLGyP1D9RwwM9lyViO6gL3A-Ta-Axd4-ACuzePF_y5EfYEcploC9oWS_iNLt0s0SINDLlM4/s640/315.30b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille pouted. Once again, she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bored</i>.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She perked up when she saw a family with a child enter the park. She
knew the boy. She had no idea what his name was, and she’d never met him
before, but she’d seen him in school before, which meant he wasn’t a stranger.
Maybe <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>would be interested in
playing.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvNc4gR1fr_u57DghrXvl98QlsqA7uICFD9YH2zv1_5i7P2cXmG1-YTp0drxRqsupclCXvhmXzqbjY_4BD68w9FrVLg_DNa-_5PfLUmLShSWWF5oe15hiQpyGbllgOqY4sTlDTbXM5qU/s1600/315.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvNc4gR1fr_u57DghrXvl98QlsqA7uICFD9YH2zv1_5i7P2cXmG1-YTp0drxRqsupclCXvhmXzqbjY_4BD68w9FrVLg_DNa-_5PfLUmLShSWWF5oe15hiQpyGbllgOqY4sTlDTbXM5qU/s640/315.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hah?” he asked incredulously
when she asked him. “Why would I wanna play with you? You’re a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby</i>.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille harrumphed at him. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t
make me a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby</i>,” she sneered. “And I
bet I can run faster than you anyway.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Says who?!” he denied vehemently. Mireille sniffed derisively and ran
away from him, and she couldn’t quite erase her smile when he took the bait and
started chasing her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">In the end, she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t </i>faster
than him. But that hadn’t been the point. The point had been, she wanted to
play, and he was playing with her, so was the loser now?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaob25vd73DtE8c6MlnK4CIG6zGIeev_ZO5uKcx5d2IGOqwF5Ir908mgrrRt45-R6cZKKpLuUsa-A7Qi9fieSa8ZlzjfGkE4j6y03Xx4D4H51xqKyNjXFXWAKM4NMMnDaZBnVte_JEds/s1600/315.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaob25vd73DtE8c6MlnK4CIG6zGIeev_ZO5uKcx5d2IGOqwF5Ir908mgrrRt45-R6cZKKpLuUsa-A7Qi9fieSa8ZlzjfGkE4j6y03Xx4D4H51xqKyNjXFXWAKM4NMMnDaZBnVte_JEds/s640/315.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spent several hours chasing him and being chased, but her fun was
interrupted when the boy (whose name she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still
</i>didn’t know) had to go home. She pouted, but quickly perked up again when
she realised Reagan’s party would probably start soon. She had to get home.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">When she arrived home, the guests had already started to arrive. She was
late. Her dad gave her a scowl from where he was talking to her uncle, causing
Mireille to wince and slink away. She was probably going to get an earful later.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan looked sympathetically at her, smiling around Alexa’s side at her.
He clearly didn’t mind that she was late.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLn_F2Wgr2PXBA_uqbGW6braHxznbN29b9cJqGuHCtHq9dzl6bD5PWhzw-CGY1WCIGOsDs4nDXETgg-gTbeO60Grex7gUJ_OdGNuGl2kveIlGa3GTL1isa29mAJvTsvkyHRkBOlnCc93Q/s1600/315.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLn_F2Wgr2PXBA_uqbGW6braHxznbN29b9cJqGuHCtHq9dzl6bD5PWhzw-CGY1WCIGOsDs4nDXETgg-gTbeO60Grex7gUJ_OdGNuGl2kveIlGa3GTL1isa29mAJvTsvkyHRkBOlnCc93Q/s640/315.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille stuck her tongue out at him and dashed away. She was more
interested in playing with her cousins, now that they’d arrived. Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cousin</i>. Alexa and Lilianne were too old,
Desmond was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boy</i>, Reuben and Keenan
were both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">babies</i>, but Lucinda was
almost exactly the same age as Mireille, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and
</i>she was fun to play with.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Why would Mireille want to spend time with anyone else?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNRq90XQ0ETnnZJMgleD16KaZalOXrGjGbyuQP3VIcvFQONY4mw96zvC3RMZfxV5pkTZBhFQMtm7CSKD4EqxAgOr0HVj5F1Uiuk1ETcbN9SBCZXuPP7Jd6FtR4bRME5YGF8RJ05EDN4E/s1600/315.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNRq90XQ0ETnnZJMgleD16KaZalOXrGjGbyuQP3VIcvFQONY4mw96zvC3RMZfxV5pkTZBhFQMtm7CSKD4EqxAgOr0HVj5F1Uiuk1ETcbN9SBCZXuPP7Jd6FtR4bRME5YGF8RJ05EDN4E/s640/315.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They spent the entire party playing tag or hopscotch, running circles
around the adults or wannabe-adults, only stopping when it was time for cake
and cheering. Mireille rolled her eyes when she saw that even as a teenager,
Reagan <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>wore a stupid freezer-bunny
shirt.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSPEqW2Pj3RCYFfzDhmudKhaBfuJzsvd1L7eblmO3qh8KQbhf3J7wqkKE4qJVeTMWPlCygvhJKPrFW2TVb7BWJnXdACfka2Un-tlmTGd3vPusoAyQOdstqEcn2v0jmVgSOznTbcVCGLQ/s1600/315.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSPEqW2Pj3RCYFfzDhmudKhaBfuJzsvd1L7eblmO3qh8KQbhf3J7wqkKE4qJVeTMWPlCygvhJKPrFW2TVb7BWJnXdACfka2Un-tlmTGd3vPusoAyQOdstqEcn2v0jmVgSOznTbcVCGLQ/s640/315.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirHaCBA8eL1B-wcIRYhhDj4A5BVS7TBC7eRX9ltZTgCxy3sJUlQlaXnBAwWwS1lHM22ymoa2HgrGLkt8W81y9AO4k1TqKnTEHyra0EwaX1sGyRqPO8Cs-XqBql_lYw28DRe_wiTqerHQ/s1600/315.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirHaCBA8eL1B-wcIRYhhDj4A5BVS7TBC7eRX9ltZTgCxy3sJUlQlaXnBAwWwS1lHM22ymoa2HgrGLkt8W81y9AO4k1TqKnTEHyra0EwaX1sGyRqPO8Cs-XqBql_lYw28DRe_wiTqerHQ/s640/315.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">After the cake had been cut and eaten, Mireille immediately wanted
returned to playing, but she took a minute to wish Reagan a happy birthday.
Lucinda was waiting for her, but Mireille loved it when Reagan paid attention
to her.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Happy birthday,” she rambled off impatiently, vibrating with energy,
and pushed her present into his hands. It was just a stupid piece of rock, but
Reagan loved collecting weird stuff and her mom had said he didn’t have a luminous
gem yet, so…</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her dad had helped her getting it cut in an emerald shape, so it was
still just a stupid rock, but she really hoped he liked it nevertheless.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnRFpg5uRdavR7G6UOxnouSlD6mXAulK5FDQAure0sZN95WMP39rnRKOpZyBa09V00CF2BjSy6caoaTHyibYi3GrpDsPigjdCC51hQaEm7nil47KfQBrqf3Svx_y9iQF8lCiEfv9EPCQ/s1600/315.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnRFpg5uRdavR7G6UOxnouSlD6mXAulK5FDQAure0sZN95WMP39rnRKOpZyBa09V00CF2BjSy6caoaTHyibYi3GrpDsPigjdCC51hQaEm7nil47KfQBrqf3Svx_y9iQF8lCiEfv9EPCQ/s640/315.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His entire face lit up when he opened the clumsily wrapped present and
saw the glittering gem.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh wow, this is really cool!” he gushed happily, his eyes shining
brightly. He held it up to the sun and admired the way it glittered in the
light. “Thank you so much, Ray-Ray.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille immediately scowled at the stupid name. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>it when people called her
something else. Her name wasn’t Ray-Ray of Miri or whatever, it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mireille</i>!</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZwAZ1BwLEKDdpsA6-53xD_xfx7YlfuI2Az3DBIdiSPOdgJ29afl80UAJYc-pWULgPwrQlSAtvdAzSwsA8NusZXQ8Cap3_IHORKDb4VbeE6p12jHUpTpTsH-mU_nsVfdF6qdV_5uy1o0/s1600/315.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYZwAZ1BwLEKDdpsA6-53xD_xfx7YlfuI2Az3DBIdiSPOdgJ29afl80UAJYc-pWULgPwrQlSAtvdAzSwsA8NusZXQ8Cap3_IHORKDb4VbeE6p12jHUpTpTsH-mU_nsVfdF6qdV_5uy1o0/s640/315.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">name </i>is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mireille</i>,” she
insisted angrily. Reagan’s smile widened, and he looked down on her, clearly
amused. Mireille didn’t get it. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t
</i>funny!</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okay, Mireille.” Reagan corrected indulgently. “Thank you for the
present.” His tone was apologetic, but he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>laughing at her. “It’s really cool.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mollified, Mireille sniffed haughtily. What<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i>. It was just a stupid rock. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFTNyrAyLPNVD633BCqn0C-YOCPMN9VNoyxUYuvc39MduFG3dqrqat50vSZTqZxsaPptQy8x-r8Ke0NkqAKbYDGDWbhwbCbf6bWg7S1mHw_PHM0IH0RFnGePiLoDbcehWX3hbUrkRz8k/s1600/315.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFTNyrAyLPNVD633BCqn0C-YOCPMN9VNoyxUYuvc39MduFG3dqrqat50vSZTqZxsaPptQy8x-r8Ke0NkqAKbYDGDWbhwbCbf6bWg7S1mHw_PHM0IH0RFnGePiLoDbcehWX3hbUrkRz8k/s640/315.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But she liked that he liked it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okaybye!” she rambled off and ran away, eager to continue playing with
Lucinda. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>much more
interesting than Reagan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra idly watched the boy she had help raise with a fond smile on her
face, watching him play with the cat. The party had long since passed, and
Reagan sat with a happy smile as he tickled the cat on his lap. He was no
longer that uncertain, timid boy desperately looking for somewhere to belong.
He was finally secure and confident enough in himself to freely express his
thoughts and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop </i>people from walking
all over him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She didn’t think there were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any </i>words
to describe how absolutely proud she was of him.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu33C7loUOFfBJa0_AClhQn1nVn3mKgARWHfhUvDkrk3cUOIElEw1spRjECjCe3CxVXjDsgrLLBSpKizSXerBe9EMc8BO60Vsh4xVjD7-f57CgrN36y1x8zK2rd9th9D_3Tw-cR-NKxXs/s1600/315.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu33C7loUOFfBJa0_AClhQn1nVn3mKgARWHfhUvDkrk3cUOIElEw1spRjECjCe3CxVXjDsgrLLBSpKizSXerBe9EMc8BO60Vsh4xVjD7-f57CgrN36y1x8zK2rd9th9D_3Tw-cR-NKxXs/s640/315.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He caught her eye and gave her that sweet, boyish grin of his, pure
happiness on his face. It struck her in that moment just how much he looked
like his mother. He had Adrian’s colouring, but his features were all Sionann.
She’d never realised just how much he looked like her, but now that he was
older, there was no denying the similarities.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She opened her mouth to talk to him, but a commotion in the kitchen drew
her attention, halting her words. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONhqLC3d_SfNbFAw-bG6hT5RgpIeFaHdsYGuMtXUQpuD4W0clSpIuic0yGyOpPOeCOhg57YN_r2uFpkBpeULaqMbJxsbKzwiF1Xdh308cx8WxCjOT-MQfFm_A6r18ruoIaZu8B8PTsBA/s1600/315.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONhqLC3d_SfNbFAw-bG6hT5RgpIeFaHdsYGuMtXUQpuD4W0clSpIuic0yGyOpPOeCOhg57YN_r2uFpkBpeULaqMbJxsbKzwiF1Xdh308cx8WxCjOT-MQfFm_A6r18ruoIaZu8B8PTsBA/s640/315.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise was sopping wet, his expression dark. In one hand he held the
pile of dirty dishes, and in his other, a clear piece of transparent tape. It didn’t
take Lyra long to realise what had happened. One of the kids had taped the tap,
causing it to spurt water all over a person when the faucet was opened. Reagan
wasn’t the type of person to cause trouble like that, which meant the culprit
was…</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille winced anticipatory, confirming Lyra’s suspicions. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRygyWZ-1kNJr9aktwnDStAH6sBe-ekeXTsZ8EKN2LUxcG3S2rOBdJIZgw-iaRu2A9PJR8P2JdnTABiR9D1DL2uw3MC5BxKt_zO-civHTc1UwTtmIW2Mr5yc4OliIR8OgD08zlDfS-YI/s1600/315.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRygyWZ-1kNJr9aktwnDStAH6sBe-ekeXTsZ8EKN2LUxcG3S2rOBdJIZgw-iaRu2A9PJR8P2JdnTABiR9D1DL2uw3MC5BxKt_zO-civHTc1UwTtmIW2Mr5yc4OliIR8OgD08zlDfS-YI/s640/315.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It didn’t take Blaise long to come to the same conclusion.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“MIREILLE!” he thundered at his daughter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It wasn’t me!” she immediately protested, but her words didn’t fool
anybody. “Why am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>always the one
getting in trouble! You never yell at Reagan!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise held up the piece of tape, showing it to her with a glare.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan</i> doesn’t do shit like
this!”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3n5kIMrMqERC1cWz3T_1N0rMEELrh5dge3DxwJ8ROeY7v5qFl2hQoy2R1clwKhbI4Hb8iDgnGKIRcqAXL3kjFegUCDzF-Pliss8wDydBa1sAy96VwEDFc6w4ukoBokI-EFhKZdeWudA/s1600/315.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3n5kIMrMqERC1cWz3T_1N0rMEELrh5dge3DxwJ8ROeY7v5qFl2hQoy2R1clwKhbI4Hb8iDgnGKIRcqAXL3kjFegUCDzF-Pliss8wDydBa1sAy96VwEDFc6w4ukoBokI-EFhKZdeWudA/s640/315.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She sniffed the air derisively and looked away.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reagan </i>sneaked out last
night,” she announced primly, adding fuel to the fire. “And Mrs Shayna at
school says you shouldn’t swear.” Besides Lyra, Reagan sank deeper into his
seat, looking for all the world like he wished he was somewhere else. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise slammed a fist onto the countertop with a loud thump, causing the
pile of dishes on it to clatter.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">give a damn </i>what ‘Mrs
Shayna’ says!” he yelled angrily. “And don’t bring Reagan into this, I’m
talking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your </i>behaviour! You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">constantly </i>disobey and disrespect -”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEozXuWJgj3kQ3mDueJVZQfVe04asOgXz1osMymaNFqQxnXswu3N_5_7L6y87yZBx7l-uXpbyiOs-_OqRLYbEhlZ8MTAeNNGxse1aiXKeok8ILqhXnHq0IlwlmDtbfJLUxxub0gm6uhA/s1600/315.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEozXuWJgj3kQ3mDueJVZQfVe04asOgXz1osMymaNFqQxnXswu3N_5_7L6y87yZBx7l-uXpbyiOs-_OqRLYbEhlZ8MTAeNNGxse1aiXKeok8ILqhXnHq0IlwlmDtbfJLUxxub0gm6uhA/s640/315.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s just a little bit of water,
it’s not like it’s gonna kill you!” Mireille protested impertinently. “It was
just a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">joke</i>.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t care! </i>I’ve had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enough </i>of -<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">”</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Please don’t fight!” Reagan’s voice cut into the argument, silencing
both sides. “Please.” Both Mireille and Blaise turned to him with angry glares,
annoyed by the interruption, but Reagan’s anxious expression caused Blaise to
sigh with resignation. He took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm down,
and it would’ve succeeded, had Mireille not decide to have the last say.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“See?” she asked derisively. “You always take <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his </i>side!” Blaise turned back to her, his eyes blazing with anger.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBavcxtSiZLuTzCxKo3O-U9jHsEC-CFOstsxykeoqPAPpjoxZ37Yi2g9vi2ttwlIiwC2RbmkGzUCsMs2dFCoQqBZN29G8B2oUzBuKFmAVud_mqCa1-ah9iw-FEfHH5RaPG4R9oeNrMCBg/s1600/315.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBavcxtSiZLuTzCxKo3O-U9jHsEC-CFOstsxykeoqPAPpjoxZ37Yi2g9vi2ttwlIiwC2RbmkGzUCsMs2dFCoQqBZN29G8B2oUzBuKFmAVud_mqCa1-ah9iw-FEfHH5RaPG4R9oeNrMCBg/s640/315.45.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mireille, go to your room,” Lyra
ordered tersely, fed-up with the disrespect and trying to stop the argument
from escalating to a point where someone would get hurt. She didn’t really
believe Blaise would hurt Mireille, even in anger, but she knew how easy it was
to lose reason through anger.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Why do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>have to go? I didn’t
do anything wrong!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mireille</i>!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mireille sniffed and looked away, her entire body vibrating with anger.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2wNUqoOtNjeyyF8KR-0lp2hKOWvXuTpSpRYNHXD5vRMUgOtN0vEj8L1MJ-2rM6Vdkyw6AjrI6YVh71oK7bvz1wnelWqtZeCbB5pFNAd84Ed0XjZ9OkOLYrgdoZAUupqEKFXWX44s9CE/s1600/315.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2wNUqoOtNjeyyF8KR-0lp2hKOWvXuTpSpRYNHXD5vRMUgOtN0vEj8L1MJ-2rM6Vdkyw6AjrI6YVh71oK7bvz1wnelWqtZeCbB5pFNAd84Ed0XjZ9OkOLYrgdoZAUupqEKFXWX44s9CE/s640/315.46.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine, s</i>ee if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>care!” she spat angrily. “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate
</i>you!” She stormed off to the room she shared with Reagan, all indignant
fury and outrage. She slammed the door shut behind her so loudly, one of the
certificates on the wall jumped off and landed with a loud clatter on the
floor.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise scowled darkly and set off in the
opposite direction. He closed the backdoor with more force than strictly
necessary, but it was nothing compared to the cacophony Mireille had made.
Shortly after, Lyra could hear the sound of flesh hitting wood as he cooled off
against the sparring dummy.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGUcjjXyewYWoJfBUeZ_UGHRdYTj9OhMH5cBJspQeviagFPWJGw3IIkMQCiew3pl-4Z5h-Un8oSSZFvtXdvmS-fubVfLcLmPO7XBQZvdmKDOER9FUTfqgdJ6OyGHJZ2GpA3Mpa-6-5V8/s1600/315.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGUcjjXyewYWoJfBUeZ_UGHRdYTj9OhMH5cBJspQeviagFPWJGw3IIkMQCiew3pl-4Z5h-Un8oSSZFvtXdvmS-fubVfLcLmPO7XBQZvdmKDOER9FUTfqgdJ6OyGHJZ2GpA3Mpa-6-5V8/s640/315.47.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was several minutes before Reagan scraped
together enough courage to break the silence that had fallen like a veil across
the living room.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Why is she always like this?” he asked
timidly. “Doesn’t she understand how lucky she is to have you guys as her
parents?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra sighed and rested her head in her hand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“She’s still young, Reagan,” she commented
tiredly. “And unfortunately, she takes a lot after me as a child. She’ll mellow
out as she gets older.” Not that Lyra really believed that. From the day of her
birth, Mireille had been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">difficult</i>.
The girl was scarcely in school and she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">already
</i>giving them hell. Lyra did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>look
forward to the day her daughter became a teenager. It was still far off into
the future, but just the thought alone caused Lyra to groan.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbMyuM3O62jOk7O3dY5qDTFf-3O3Shzp65WfXwlx9efNTRlC-iBxhHlQf6zgmshxZQoIEWXiseR-gfYmxi5tQFBwL3JI58AbEH-8ZhyFfMkhhcQXexwPqKPBCkRpnP94E3Bg32MGYsuY/s1600/315.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbMyuM3O62jOk7O3dY5qDTFf-3O3Shzp65WfXwlx9efNTRlC-iBxhHlQf6zgmshxZQoIEWXiseR-gfYmxi5tQFBwL3JI58AbEH-8ZhyFfMkhhcQXexwPqKPBCkRpnP94E3Bg32MGYsuY/s640/315.48.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: So, Mireille <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also </i>has the hot-headed trait. In a
house where three of the four occupants are hot-headed, is it any wonder she
doesn’t get along with her parents?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The scene in the
graveyard was inspired by this hopeless little wish:</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiYyZn8CAlDduCS0_IIaPWCqqpduJj78sK_mqaNy1qcodUkwblnhOnf3thzqSnuzZdN-IU83RDfC8h4DI9AX98mUpbFQ1u52D7GmxYoJGIvjEk_1HhIzTwbxLy-XNTAhN8zboPojxij0/s1600/315.Extra.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiYyZn8CAlDduCS0_IIaPWCqqpduJj78sK_mqaNy1qcodUkwblnhOnf3thzqSnuzZdN-IU83RDfC8h4DI9AX98mUpbFQ1u52D7GmxYoJGIvjEk_1HhIzTwbxLy-XNTAhN8zboPojxij0/s1600/315.Extra.png" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">T_T I’m sorry, Reagan.
I sent him to the graveyard in an attempt to fulfil that wish, but Adrian was a
no-show. He had to make do with Sionann. Adrian <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>pitch up the next day, so if anybody was wondering what Reagan
was doing while Mireille played at the festival, this is what he did:</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4jiRvsio-9esTx1DEspOaItZdq7Xh3Hp5HEq7G0Fq6W9BMs3HU7tL1j_5AVq40AJNt_KDSFYr-2Y6ugMRa_bXL7tVgquzRoU9aiNGWTLOQV7a5BA3ktDqnzEkgLXuzZTAndLb2YSGmA/s1600/315.Extra2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4jiRvsio-9esTx1DEspOaItZdq7Xh3Hp5HEq7G0Fq6W9BMs3HU7tL1j_5AVq40AJNt_KDSFYr-2Y6ugMRa_bXL7tVgquzRoU9aiNGWTLOQV7a5BA3ktDqnzEkgLXuzZTAndLb2YSGmA/s640/315.Extra2.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Wish granted! :D</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Also, that pose, where
Blaise is hugging Reagan. <3 Instead of scouring the internet for hours,
looking for a similar pose, I decided to rather spend that time on creating it
myself. I’m ridiculously proud of it. I have a couple of minor clipping issues
to fix, but once they’re sorted out I’ll upload the poses to the Creative
Corner page, in case anyone’s interested. :D</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-59954757938526448912017-12-10T13:43:00.001+02:002017-12-10T13:50:44.096+02:00Chapter 3.14 - Newfound Friendship<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">*Warning: Foul language.* </span></span></b><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra still couldn’t believe she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">married</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The ring in her finger wasn’t a heavy weight, but it was one that she
was completely unaccustomed to, and it caused her to be hyper-aware of its
presence. Instead of filling her with dread though, or making her feel like she
was chained, the delicate ring filled her with happiness.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hrIihAEr36aMPIFA0rya1Jtv7KFL93j7ophQg6_IZk5XrFDrdGBpCxvrTZmyCIpNWYeuZPGo_0GFFcKa7sUeSFvHEaWVLgY_Y764gLxtVQgvpUyqKL6lS87Fp8hE8Q-krv-QcKdYSjU/s1600/314.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hrIihAEr36aMPIFA0rya1Jtv7KFL93j7ophQg6_IZk5XrFDrdGBpCxvrTZmyCIpNWYeuZPGo_0GFFcKa7sUeSFvHEaWVLgY_Y764gLxtVQgvpUyqKL6lS87Fp8hE8Q-krv-QcKdYSjU/s640/314.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It wasn’t even an expensive ring. They didn’t have the money for one,
and honestly, if they were going to spend that much money on something, she’d
rather they spend it on something useful. But even though it wasn’t expensive,
Lyra loved her ring.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They’d gotten married without fanfare or ceremony. They’d simply
registered the documents at the city hall, and afterwards they’d exchanged
rings in the privacy of their home.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74y3fEtDc9VcXfscgYUMYbCaJcfz4a7w8ZAks4rYkBZrpDJZGZLFmBZjTMETTr18_WFuuA8FHx3i1XXPf2Vt_9nF5k6wxoIddzvtnBusowSr3CI5yMiYHdXYqGTA5buuw4WznDpmZQkU/s1600/314.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74y3fEtDc9VcXfscgYUMYbCaJcfz4a7w8ZAks4rYkBZrpDJZGZLFmBZjTMETTr18_WFuuA8FHx3i1XXPf2Vt_9nF5k6wxoIddzvtnBusowSr3CI5yMiYHdXYqGTA5buuw4WznDpmZQkU/s640/314.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was all either of them had wanted.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was also the last time there had been some peace and quiet in the
house, because Mireille soon became a toddler, and if she had been a difficult
baby, she was an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">impossible </i>toddler.
She threw tantrums about absolutely everything, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>they did helped to put an end to it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">(Toddler spam!)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4sYD9WZ9nswcTQUxBCsiFeUPn16h0-JhkpC6AIvj-Loi62QRTyY_xpc1qNVXrCbml8wSwCsfjcJctyd1PKOSm4uAv-OZBSvQBdoYvYKjkVLv1Z7igM7hk4Px33m_jNIBPmnJjzVzDxM/s1600/314.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4sYD9WZ9nswcTQUxBCsiFeUPn16h0-JhkpC6AIvj-Loi62QRTyY_xpc1qNVXrCbml8wSwCsfjcJctyd1PKOSm4uAv-OZBSvQBdoYvYKjkVLv1Z7igM7hk4Px33m_jNIBPmnJjzVzDxM/s640/314.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLoDWRjpHlsrEwV8ScBO7oRVwDu_WMtCtqQwqV7TrIZio0omIvnMtBgR0CV68wj4usjNv7tsdXgIgOH-rBtkCEI110dqqYIYXO1UxfILUIesSB7CEGrNuKVge1fTgaO8xCrvIFsScehE/s1600/314.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLoDWRjpHlsrEwV8ScBO7oRVwDu_WMtCtqQwqV7TrIZio0omIvnMtBgR0CV68wj4usjNv7tsdXgIgOH-rBtkCEI110dqqYIYXO1UxfILUIesSB7CEGrNuKVge1fTgaO8xCrvIFsScehE/s640/314.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVoujLNWsflqrGIQhjRfUvJ_PguPCplYliTq4p0-R4sevkQ5EzubwT2hZ5yjawkEE-c_mbiT5b9q4VxN39u-dZuWLjJ5RLCEDt99zH3Sz-GBhwvjNMsxImTi1FCocbc7st6ifV_E1zYw/s1600/314.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVoujLNWsflqrGIQhjRfUvJ_PguPCplYliTq4p0-R4sevkQ5EzubwT2hZ5yjawkEE-c_mbiT5b9q4VxN39u-dZuWLjJ5RLCEDt99zH3Sz-GBhwvjNMsxImTi1FCocbc7st6ifV_E1zYw/s640/314.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She constantly tried to break her toys, and whenever Ignis approached
her, interested by his new human who smelled like his master, she’d try to hit
him or throw him with whatever thing was in reach. It wasn’t long before the
dragon avoided her like the plague.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But then there were days when the toddler acted like a perfect little
angel, smiling and laughing and being absolutely adorable, and Lyra couldn’t
understand how it was possible to love somebody that much.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeE7nuoTDFRREtPvE8sbQrypfXF9D_I5wMNmOLNJM5TZmmxRMkHCNXn5l-i7BsLEE_LWYpR_bfVKm7tkc1bPpJLLMZznfSYvxL9ZJtLKCl0vBfyznWE7WVyJmNVCcsR4tarf_md-Fyo0/s1600/314.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeE7nuoTDFRREtPvE8sbQrypfXF9D_I5wMNmOLNJM5TZmmxRMkHCNXn5l-i7BsLEE_LWYpR_bfVKm7tkc1bPpJLLMZznfSYvxL9ZJtLKCl0vBfyznWE7WVyJmNVCcsR4tarf_md-Fyo0/s640/314.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgueL-SGsOYjEdTC2U71CgfI9iiSKW8XCpF8DT5z1j2P1yruXGxC2q0T4FhIc0G_5Q8M5bK_tZH6GjHMKVRVa4mnevZBUQMUeJRI8p3jOsKWZeCU7oj06zDba0iMSYEGNmFMWcY4XkWA/s1600/314.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgueL-SGsOYjEdTC2U71CgfI9iiSKW8XCpF8DT5z1j2P1yruXGxC2q0T4FhIc0G_5Q8M5bK_tZH6GjHMKVRVa4mnevZBUQMUeJRI8p3jOsKWZeCU7oj06zDba0iMSYEGNmFMWcY4XkWA/s640/314.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyamKjzlLRCQaK6BD_PsfrI8rCJ206IwJXHx-eBi7eA1QT9dBfbXbRFuuhSQ0XVtmdsyYOn5VaWqHZmtoqAzD_df_cZiQsV7DgerRVyyq3B5s2rywMl01XrfNYJnUEDXRWeS19zk4dKqg/s1600/314.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyamKjzlLRCQaK6BD_PsfrI8rCJ206IwJXHx-eBi7eA1QT9dBfbXbRFuuhSQ0XVtmdsyYOn5VaWqHZmtoqAzD_df_cZiQsV7DgerRVyyq3B5s2rywMl01XrfNYJnUEDXRWeS19zk4dKqg/s640/314.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra still wasn’t interested in having any more children, but the two
she took care of…well, she was more than happy with them. Reagan especially,
was an absolute blessing to have around. His sweet and obedient nature was a
big relief to deal with after Mireille’s temper tantrums. Mireille herself was
a lot sweeter around the boy, giggling happily whenever he played with her and
demanding hugs whenever she saw him.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaivlr28w3B5pSSbx56igeFUVqC3AO4WO7ibNuTbq5ikVTHApJgZzFNANnOEcNZAvHwxbYNKCT5Ba5X4qkSyICmXgsxonJaXFTjaThrY1okGEmj9vkTzwJMqJG8AYWtGzTCShIdATxTs/s1600/314.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaivlr28w3B5pSSbx56igeFUVqC3AO4WO7ibNuTbq5ikVTHApJgZzFNANnOEcNZAvHwxbYNKCT5Ba5X4qkSyICmXgsxonJaXFTjaThrY1okGEmj9vkTzwJMqJG8AYWtGzTCShIdATxTs/s640/314.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He joined the school’s scout club soon after starting school, driven by
his love of nature and spending time outside, and after school he could often
be found playing with the chickens or in the tree-house. Other days, he’d spend
hours and hours chasing after butterflies or watching birds. Lyra was just
waiting for the day Reagan came home with an injured bird that he wanted to
nurse back to health.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">In the end, it wasn’t a bird. It was a kitten.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuqjdytTwzH9e2HgMgTAPhglo4QzIq7fT-qC6Jh5PcVzICZ402Xj3XQJBqj4dYu_D7_SAQwMz0e8luxQ-VSEBMMv2uehSETUkkHtN9XcfZPFLwfdCQKeXZADL52E8gwQ44N4ORGW7qZ0/s1600/314.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuqjdytTwzH9e2HgMgTAPhglo4QzIq7fT-qC6Jh5PcVzICZ402Xj3XQJBqj4dYu_D7_SAQwMz0e8luxQ-VSEBMMv2uehSETUkkHtN9XcfZPFLwfdCQKeXZADL52E8gwQ44N4ORGW7qZ0/s640/314.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,” Lyra declared firmly when
she noticed Reagan holding the tiny ball of fur against his chest. The house
was already crowded, and they had enough trouble feeding four people and a
dragon <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without </i>adding a cat to the
equation.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Please, Lyra?” Reagan pleaded, his eyes ridiculously wide and innocent,
like a puppy’s. Little scoundrel. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew
</i>he was playing on her feelings, but that didn’t make it any easier to say
no. “I promise, I’ll take good care of her. She won’t make it on her own.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY403XhRu_a87XCQzv_Vz0HC6JRue1L39tATS2olR_wFq1HGTPzNocVwZwQVMA6OqZysU_j38SGarypqLfsMGeKcTM4hwE2bglDh9QR7lKlri-ylWzODpLWrPDoDGvYawQW5BVQRhEAKE/s1600/314.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY403XhRu_a87XCQzv_Vz0HC6JRue1L39tATS2olR_wFq1HGTPzNocVwZwQVMA6OqZysU_j38SGarypqLfsMGeKcTM4hwE2bglDh9QR7lKlri-ylWzODpLWrPDoDGvYawQW5BVQRhEAKE/s640/314.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They were not going to keep a cat. There was no way she would allow it.
She was going to tell him to take the cat back to where he found it and –</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Fine,” she allowed resignedly. “As long as you understand she’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your </i>responsibility.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDVnnGC-R5K7OPc8fLymIfaQu_I19EIJTAyDX82Jfo7kkugq8a8G9jZW1XgqO6xV5arDuZdyw2uUl1Hfgr5FcmbuhxqSzvRB37chXOZmfgMl236fwgZjMgbiz2TeqqOXP9a9Ab3quMF4/s1600/314.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDVnnGC-R5K7OPc8fLymIfaQu_I19EIJTAyDX82Jfo7kkugq8a8G9jZW1XgqO6xV5arDuZdyw2uUl1Hfgr5FcmbuhxqSzvRB37chXOZmfgMl236fwgZjMgbiz2TeqqOXP9a9Ab3quMF4/s640/314.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His face lit up with delight.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yes, of course,” he gushed happily. “Thank you so much!” He immediately
bounced away, chatting and cooing over the damn cat. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNOXNq4C5tr4zIt1SCZHROaoA_cxDpAmD3CJO4aN47Ftc_qfFIiRKOoyqe2I3D9ho1O8T01xCeNdDHTzYiyksgYDequaxQobGqLCbpGm7MWJhlN4AHJ7fD_3-aqajHv4n2qN09ipCobk/s1600/314.12b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoNOXNq4C5tr4zIt1SCZHROaoA_cxDpAmD3CJO4aN47Ftc_qfFIiRKOoyqe2I3D9ho1O8T01xCeNdDHTzYiyksgYDequaxQobGqLCbpGm7MWJhlN4AHJ7fD_3-aqajHv4n2qN09ipCobk/s640/314.12b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were </i>going to keep a cat.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan made good on his promise and diligently took care of the kitten,
who he’d named Kiki, but it wasn’t long before Mireille made her own claim on
the kitten. She never had any real interest in Ignis, but with Kiki she’d drop
whatever she was busy with to play with her. The kitten, too, preferred
spending time with Mireille rather than Reagan.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPrpiOlFJIDGZb6Sj2LJUS0-8O2OE6fotI87JzLCiuLLzECoa_oKqfnU62bE_wS56oMdLwcvbgIarF7-GxaHJ-1HYEHCIBzgDTU1j9cJKi86HUvvk1MZs48nzaVuPd6V08XAwiymn1o0/s1600/314.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPrpiOlFJIDGZb6Sj2LJUS0-8O2OE6fotI87JzLCiuLLzECoa_oKqfnU62bE_wS56oMdLwcvbgIarF7-GxaHJ-1HYEHCIBzgDTU1j9cJKi86HUvvk1MZs48nzaVuPd6V08XAwiymn1o0/s640/314.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan took the kitten’s betrayal with good grace. He was happy with the
small snippets of attention she gave him, and he never complained when Mireille
demanded the kitten’s attention, even when she did it while Reagan was busy
with Kiki. Some days, Lyra wondered if the boy had a single jealous bone in his
body.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, it made making friends at school difficult. Reagan wasn’t
assertive enough to fight for the things he wanted, so when somebody else
wanted something he was using, whether it be in class or on the playground, he
normally gave it up without protest. The other children thought he was too
timid, so most of the time he was left to play by himself.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRtMkbilJ8XbsCohjVuJrWFYRDF1_2hRyfF9jimGNoRz3UUvw90OHXoaYvVt2We-zxyn28OEWEXHDYA4XDRLmwgEil8U_TU3TM1aY0C85-E5Y7noa8s9eCkQuLr0eZ9e5DkiLRcSwG0g/s1600/314.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRtMkbilJ8XbsCohjVuJrWFYRDF1_2hRyfF9jimGNoRz3UUvw90OHXoaYvVt2We-zxyn28OEWEXHDYA4XDRLmwgEil8U_TU3TM1aY0C85-E5Y7noa8s9eCkQuLr0eZ9e5DkiLRcSwG0g/s640/314.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It wasn’t really outright bullying, but it was a fact that Reagan was an
outcast amongst his peers.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re weird,” Lilianne Everhart told him one day when she noticed him
sitting by himself on the swing-set. By the nearby jungle gym, two boys from
his class were playing happily with his toys. “Why are you letting Marlin and
Cletus walk all over you like that?” As Lilianne was Blaise’s niece, the two
children regarded each other as cousins. There were a few too many years
between them for the two to really be good friends, but they still occasionally
sought each other out. Lilianne treated Reagan the same she treated her little
brother, so it wasn’t unusual for her to help the younger boy when he was in
trouble.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgUf_VO9_fnHSMA5yjo_9Ov-9nv3tVlkhSlCqTQ_35SakbFuhKciR_Ox6oRyfU4YfF7HKDdxtpwbmaExHaEEAPvUMbUYDYgcJaTXGnQbqgz2-gQQ6V32FQ9eIKlQqzLStEW-PRUxtsyk/s1600/314.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgUf_VO9_fnHSMA5yjo_9Ov-9nv3tVlkhSlCqTQ_35SakbFuhKciR_Ox6oRyfU4YfF7HKDdxtpwbmaExHaEEAPvUMbUYDYgcJaTXGnQbqgz2-gQQ6V32FQ9eIKlQqzLStEW-PRUxtsyk/s640/314.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t wanna fight with them,”
Reagan mumbled, disheartened. “So it’s okay. I don’t really need my toys right
now.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lilianne sighed, exasperated. “It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your
</i>toys, Reagan. They shouldn’t play with your toys when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>want to. It’s not fair.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan ducked his head, hiding his face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“No really, it’s okay,” he insisted.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguv-Gwy2kzzjQMBEBKlEq83PNJklPmUhc9R8TXz4jXAjsJ0UQMS0tATcpE4YB9lGOK9dlKaVf0gQ9yD4prwSQQOHP37bHuiSOP2lWmnF-INAUk1RjWRFa_mNF2j7X3uAucYvfiBLarnJ8/s1600/314.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguv-Gwy2kzzjQMBEBKlEq83PNJklPmUhc9R8TXz4jXAjsJ0UQMS0tATcpE4YB9lGOK9dlKaVf0gQ9yD4prwSQQOHP37bHuiSOP2lWmnF-INAUk1RjWRFa_mNF2j7X3uAucYvfiBLarnJ8/s640/314.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lilianne let the issue go, but she told her mom who then went ahead and
informed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise. </i>Needless to say,
Blaise wasn’t very happy.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I hear you’re getting bullied,” he confronted the boy while helping him
with his homework. “Why didn’t you tell us?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m not!” Reagan protested, but he refused to make eye contact with his
godfather. “I mean, they’re a little mean, but it’s okay. I don’t mind.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGY-ukS0Vtp5r0YDI0v9b2JFZhEzkjTVd708lP1WDnEsrzBeOZhIkQRsY61J9xMD9VhsEZDc2lISESARE2Ja_jkuuiatwN9YtFSqyYx_sPIOetVRL-XwCHeJ_LkjsTexljVKbpGPjpE0k/s1600/314.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGY-ukS0Vtp5r0YDI0v9b2JFZhEzkjTVd708lP1WDnEsrzBeOZhIkQRsY61J9xMD9VhsEZDc2lISESARE2Ja_jkuuiatwN9YtFSqyYx_sPIOetVRL-XwCHeJ_LkjsTexljVKbpGPjpE0k/s640/314.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, you should,” Blaise
immediately declared, his brows drawn into a frown. “It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>okay.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Really, it’s fine,” Reagan instead stubbornly. “I mean, it’s not like
they’re hurting me. They’re just taking my things, that’s all.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Things we paid good money for, Reagan,” Blaise scowled. They had enough
trouble providing for the boy without his stuff getting stolen. “Who are they?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It doesn’t matter,” Reagan insisted again, scribbling an answer into
his homework. “They always give my stuff back anyway.” He pointed to a math
problem in his homework book. “Can you explain this sum to me? I don’t know
what to do.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_uz8bmM4ZKwtlU_ixGGh9a1P9vwUu1Nzy2h4Bo6XQoFpue8xjyM8hPMDML727-OCbldxMqM6is8lvjOqCM5wF3P7I6X8LFiViRjBAlVG_tPVLXtYfzcV5oryPZNzEkU-r1t3yqdY-aY/s1600/314.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_uz8bmM4ZKwtlU_ixGGh9a1P9vwUu1Nzy2h4Bo6XQoFpue8xjyM8hPMDML727-OCbldxMqM6is8lvjOqCM5wF3P7I6X8LFiViRjBAlVG_tPVLXtYfzcV5oryPZNzEkU-r1t3yqdY-aY/s640/314.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, don’t change the subject,”
Blaise scolded him. “I want an answer.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The boy shrugged uncomfortably, worrying his lip between his teeth as he
contemplated the math problem.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Marlin and Cletus,” he finally admitted. “Everybody else does too, but
they’re the worst.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise ruffled Reagan’s hair, pleased the boy had taken him into
confidence.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Thanks kiddo,” he said gruffly and looked over into Reagan’s homework
at the problem that was giving the boy so much trouble. “So, to solve this
problem, you have to…”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrOMZwUa2X6NmDNx7sJNdpgifPEC_t9Sseqxapc56gUqwOns4iAyCguTMIv5FeX90TzFFJ5vtuisO5-bVOebHcMBZYM2Togl5QF104xYlfxjoi4UvWXjs8QRygHXlZGOMc0RkJc3Hl8E/s1600/314.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrOMZwUa2X6NmDNx7sJNdpgifPEC_t9Sseqxapc56gUqwOns4iAyCguTMIv5FeX90TzFFJ5vtuisO5-bVOebHcMBZYM2Togl5QF104xYlfxjoi4UvWXjs8QRygHXlZGOMc0RkJc3Hl8E/s640/314.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan didn’t know what Blaise did after he confessed to being bullied,
but whatever it was, it made the two bullies confront him the next day at
lunchtime. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Why’d you snitch, huh?” Marlin Diffy demanded angrily, towering over
the younger boy. “If you didn’t want us to use your stuff, you should ‘a said so.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan kept his eyes downcast and his attention on his food. This was
exactly why he hadn’t wanted to say anything. He hated any form of fighting or
confrontation.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF1c9x8lraezaNuxVV155P63fcZ9oNr0zKYUygQ9tziXyOrAIYj1r4nHqjcros-41cnQB5OL2QVUgzlkDeBYtI8AjIQnmblyShAIMezZwf1v-Ak8W1H4stctlIPe84RybquPiGT7UUQI/s1600/314.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF1c9x8lraezaNuxVV155P63fcZ9oNr0zKYUygQ9tziXyOrAIYj1r4nHqjcros-41cnQB5OL2QVUgzlkDeBYtI8AjIQnmblyShAIMezZwf1v-Ak8W1H4stctlIPe84RybquPiGT7UUQI/s640/314.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t snitch,” he mumbled
softly. “I just answered Blaise when he asked, that’s all. I didn’t mean to get
anyone in trouble.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Cletus Kahekili slammed his hands down on the table, jarring the
cutlery.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, you got <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us </i>in trouble,”
he declared crossly. “If you’d just shut up, nothing’d have happened. Why’d you
have to be stupid enough to tell?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan hung his head and refused to answer, staring mulishly at the
table. He wasn’t going to fight with them. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>fighting.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hey, don’t ignore us,” Marlin demanded angrily. “Are you deaf? We’re
talking to you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGKigXRbRwvQ36l9H7PC4_lcVH0eeImZY1QZv3NWr1Q18hZqtQe9tutyVcCqdhgXrl3y2SnQPCBaM5LHRnvTU7_-ukIFEROFzlMjGeHJJnaE3F2ng3_Fb_r9YTI-ibyArMoONCYL8MAs/s1600/314.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUGKigXRbRwvQ36l9H7PC4_lcVH0eeImZY1QZv3NWr1Q18hZqtQe9tutyVcCqdhgXrl3y2SnQPCBaM5LHRnvTU7_-ukIFEROFzlMjGeHJJnaE3F2ng3_Fb_r9YTI-ibyArMoONCYL8MAs/s640/314.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clearly</i>,” an unfamiliar
girl spoke up behind him, “he knows better than to talk to dimwits.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yeah,” another voice interjected, “who would wanna listen to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">As expected, the response made the boys change targets as they started
yelling at the newcomers. Reagan shyly lifted his head, wondering who had come
up for him, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9kkB-YJZERp5CFeXTsi1pvPUVa_X2gRrQW2Tu7JoafCz7qARjegQFRzCugVDPMMazFgDn5wj914sqaClpqJYXzX4nfEUrkcsnZSOr2HXZzjc7eLIv5C2qC0xBwn3zaazaOo_I-BxUW8/s1600/314.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9kkB-YJZERp5CFeXTsi1pvPUVa_X2gRrQW2Tu7JoafCz7qARjegQFRzCugVDPMMazFgDn5wj914sqaClpqJYXzX4nfEUrkcsnZSOr2HXZzjc7eLIv5C2qC0xBwn3zaazaOo_I-BxUW8/s640/314.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a pair of girls, clearly sisters, and Reagan felt his eyes widen
at the sight. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everybody </i>knew the
Kahekili twins. They were one year below him, but they were charismatic girls
who seemed to know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everybody </i>in
school. Why would they stand up for him? He’d never even talked to them.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re…Regis, aren’t you?” the short-haired twin asked curiously, after
Marlin and Cletus had stalked away, chased off by the twin girls.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Reagan,” he automatically corrected. “Reagan Iverson.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenRaToWsip8NUBExqLkm-ySzLlbKqo24FyM-VOSxjmr-R_VJmlSfqYtuCNweQIP0-P-fI1Cj5pIPFE2dsssgwNlPFu75at5nbFNo041msTY4E4pZ92DvzUWI26lH139pBe3k3JfCLe6s/s1600/314.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenRaToWsip8NUBExqLkm-ySzLlbKqo24FyM-VOSxjmr-R_VJmlSfqYtuCNweQIP0-P-fI1Cj5pIPFE2dsssgwNlPFu75at5nbFNo041msTY4E4pZ92DvzUWI26lH139pBe3k3JfCLe6s/s640/314.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cool,” the same girl pronounced.
“I’m Joelle.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And I’m Daniela!” the other twin declared. “Say, why are sitting here
alone? Don’t you have friends?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Not really,” Reagan mumbled, a little embarrassed and overwhelmed by
the attention the two girls were paying him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, you can be our friend then!” Joelle decided, and that was that.
From that day onwards, the twins dragged Reagan all over the place with them.
As an added bonus, Marlin and Cletus stopped picking on Reagan, too scared of
the twin force that was Cletus’s sisters. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEGi5I5EPhpm81eaVqekzlKc760zgh2m9UXMz3xrJzlhmBeyVwiEn5nu3cSBxi5yLWtGfOhcHa0Hf5AqyC8slQvY6v91kOCPA56a4ELmMjVy8eFIK-p8ynjAY2MhEFBZr7oPy0Z_z96k/s1600/314.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEGi5I5EPhpm81eaVqekzlKc760zgh2m9UXMz3xrJzlhmBeyVwiEn5nu3cSBxi5yLWtGfOhcHa0Hf5AqyC8slQvY6v91kOCPA56a4ELmMjVy8eFIK-p8ynjAY2MhEFBZr7oPy0Z_z96k/s640/314.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His newfound friendship with the twins finally gave Reagan a sense of
confidence he’d been lacking with children his own age. He didn’t ask Lyra and
Blaise for a lot of things, so when he asked them if he could host a sleepover,
they instantly agreed.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The day of the sleepover, Reagan was a nervous wreck, afraid nobody
would come. He’d invited the Kahekili twins, as well as the children from Lyra
and Blaise’s extended families, his would-be cousins.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyAGMl7wxNXlfRCb34LIg8RqE_bmzNASGjFDE_3-slU6zbScdnpw0MdnEITGBgxNcW8qMd3aZlCXKIM7EejosHjazHOJe5d_dMV2cQRWKTcj0B_90vMoNNBa5ROat2A97O-_g5IaN0mM/s1600/314.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyAGMl7wxNXlfRCb34LIg8RqE_bmzNASGjFDE_3-slU6zbScdnpw0MdnEITGBgxNcW8qMd3aZlCXKIM7EejosHjazHOJe5d_dMV2cQRWKTcj0B_90vMoNNBa5ROat2A97O-_g5IaN0mM/s640/314.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It turned out he was worried for nothing, as everybody he invited turned
up. For the rest of the evening, the house was filled with joyous laughter and
giggles as the pack of children played and ran around.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8YrukIuLJhZFFQr_ix4qqzbxkLO3Zj542Kz0NLwEezRKgpVO17hzC_bIaii4U-aZzZcaKVbeuMug4OJ5BHAJsC1WzEVY40vVRemQvggiwlfzvoPpfu3zTA9DKyQzJ7PXzA-ZMZk3sxM/s1600/314.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8YrukIuLJhZFFQr_ix4qqzbxkLO3Zj542Kz0NLwEezRKgpVO17hzC_bIaii4U-aZzZcaKVbeuMug4OJ5BHAJsC1WzEVY40vVRemQvggiwlfzvoPpfu3zTA9DKyQzJ7PXzA-ZMZk3sxM/s640/314.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDyxyP9fGhbOYFi11lvCoV3RHenkO4jRHh9cYrpOzyTvfbRE7E2Q-_kQA2i9po0DLeryrdJZ28OCfGBDV3lTHbWFIjjzIO-v7e7sEli525B-V0z3dPwPBGmWwQJiOdhxlczST-TnebxM/s1600/314.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDyxyP9fGhbOYFi11lvCoV3RHenkO4jRHh9cYrpOzyTvfbRE7E2Q-_kQA2i9po0DLeryrdJZ28OCfGBDV3lTHbWFIjjzIO-v7e7sEli525B-V0z3dPwPBGmWwQJiOdhxlczST-TnebxM/s640/314.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Eager to make the sleepover as successful as possible for Reagan, Lyra
made sure there was a steady supply of hot chocolate…</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBW7HuFcz3SH7WOztfxa5fRwXGMov7vvyEEC9kGW7dZeWaRiAXcdi519KLJxoY8FRSe0aHLpqhec3JcSXSlvHhDBcGpOY0bElUP9UpJeCauex2etBJJfJUwGnLcqeDn2ya4nXNsHlORT0/s1600/314.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBW7HuFcz3SH7WOztfxa5fRwXGMov7vvyEEC9kGW7dZeWaRiAXcdi519KLJxoY8FRSe0aHLpqhec3JcSXSlvHhDBcGpOY0bElUP9UpJeCauex2etBJJfJUwGnLcqeDn2ya4nXNsHlORT0/s640/314.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…and when it was time for dinner, she made a large plate of spaghetti
with fresh homegrown tomatoes. The children swarmed around the food, and Reagan
had one of the biggest smiles Lyra had ever seen on him.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7ZZXTGVen5sBQkFMhyJzLB8la-SHQMufgj5UJCrpi1CbtaKUSQEKJWW2TSfml6GUI-1aNV_CK4Oam-rEtue7glBocFmlQ27sLBFSw9_DzCbOcx8gs6_l1SC7cryC7nKJ5vf9TUuhOJs/s1600/314.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7ZZXTGVen5sBQkFMhyJzLB8la-SHQMufgj5UJCrpi1CbtaKUSQEKJWW2TSfml6GUI-1aNV_CK4Oam-rEtue7glBocFmlQ27sLBFSw9_DzCbOcx8gs6_l1SC7cryC7nKJ5vf9TUuhOJs/s640/314.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">(Bonus shot: Alexa Marquel – Renard’s daughter, in case anybody is
interested in seeing what she looks like)</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55QcyrCgCysIHtZy2F63o6-ZkGMazmF6GQCG5Ni4gr1ON_KldbeDalqJgrz1Voi-iZtTJA17qX-7C2ULO2QQ2iKdPqmxEUnUjbC7r8klaf3WHUOKndRUhhP1GWYEeip_kjBmBXrXMPaE/s1600/314.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55QcyrCgCysIHtZy2F63o6-ZkGMazmF6GQCG5Ni4gr1ON_KldbeDalqJgrz1Voi-iZtTJA17qX-7C2ULO2QQ2iKdPqmxEUnUjbC7r8klaf3WHUOKndRUhhP1GWYEeip_kjBmBXrXMPaE/s640/314.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a beautiful summers night, and there was no rain forecasted, so
by unanimous agreement, the children decided to camp out beneath the stars. All
in all, the sleepover was a massive success, and when the kids went home the
next morning, they all went on about how awesome the sleepover was.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenKnLrCECAQ-3KCEvTcain6mlD5LJFcXqhhDA1uJW4V4T64LAjG3O6Oq-QphAUQmmPRxFnpI73HN-wp3cqigXteO0HDEzwOgOSxDFDVv3JSmFUdIehBy-KpDlel9FP6dBhOnT4zGtV3Q/s1600/314.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenKnLrCECAQ-3KCEvTcain6mlD5LJFcXqhhDA1uJW4V4T64LAjG3O6Oq-QphAUQmmPRxFnpI73HN-wp3cqigXteO0HDEzwOgOSxDFDVv3JSmFUdIehBy-KpDlel9FP6dBhOnT4zGtV3Q/s640/314.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The sleepover had done wonders for Reagan’s confidence. While he had
never been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reluctant </i>to go to school,
he certainly never seemed to enjoy it either, but after the sleepover he
eagerly ran to the school bus, happy to know his friends would be there.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpt5yKCZUvwUaBNsX51PO7EDSRSwlGdonKArKRinMSR91XegS5bcUBe2AnGQ3dOJ7JNYPBMlg5y2mRdHMoiBxaPHSZxS7o4W182P7Hn7ON-B00-uT9d2Ro6Kw54QMkNpXA22QTVlSX0Zc/s1600/314.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpt5yKCZUvwUaBNsX51PO7EDSRSwlGdonKArKRinMSR91XegS5bcUBe2AnGQ3dOJ7JNYPBMlg5y2mRdHMoiBxaPHSZxS7o4W182P7Hn7ON-B00-uT9d2Ro6Kw54QMkNpXA22QTVlSX0Zc/s640/314.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra looked at the darkening sky during her daily jogging session and
idly watched the clouds gathering heavily above her, feeling a little
melancholic. It was autumn again. Spring and summer had passed in what felt
like an eyeblink, and once again the world was going to enter into the cold years.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Just where had the time gone?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWyh7JSpDSdVVVN3IEw5R6DunBaz3-BrGIqlxRex4DUj3AoEmw4nE5DyR883TqWReznEIhT1_DKeu2zNedVLuyRji84FTj-b1YWwYJlFD64Kx_spqBTntC5S0Pw21bqs8VeVA9_Tk87Q/s1600/314.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWyh7JSpDSdVVVN3IEw5R6DunBaz3-BrGIqlxRex4DUj3AoEmw4nE5DyR883TqWReznEIhT1_DKeu2zNedVLuyRji84FTj-b1YWwYJlFD64Kx_spqBTntC5S0Pw21bqs8VeVA9_Tk87Q/s640/314.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">So many things had happened since the last time it had been autumn.
She’d met people, lost friends, fell in love, and became a mother. She’d
experienced exultation and grief and everything in between. And everything, all
she had experienced, happened because she had ignorantly chased her curiosity
and followed a ghost she had no business following. Her entire childhood she
had hated Charlotte, but now…now she couldn’t help but feel thankful to the
ghost.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The life she had was definitely not the one she’d ever thought she’d
have, but she loved every bit of it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUxCQPNGaqmPmff_Du4m55spxi3g6dbXuDI26gZ4eDm4qWY4R-PA5tRUdckXKlUY3oqsbp_hZCNp59GhoPX6Y-VXSKI4U8F2QSiyRMt0tNulGJS6ahLXI6yMjzbWYEuKQ3L_Xclhoh6Y/s1600/314.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUxCQPNGaqmPmff_Du4m55spxi3g6dbXuDI26gZ4eDm4qWY4R-PA5tRUdckXKlUY3oqsbp_hZCNp59GhoPX6Y-VXSKI4U8F2QSiyRMt0tNulGJS6ahLXI6yMjzbWYEuKQ3L_Xclhoh6Y/s640/314.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She had her family, both the one she’d grown up with and the one she’d
created for herself. She wasn’t rich, but between her and Blaise, they still
managed to afford everything important to them. She had people in her life she
loved more than she had ever thought could be possible. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Age had crept up on her and Blaise, and they were very close to being
classified as ‘middle-aged’, but she could honestly say she was happy. She
couldn’t imagine her life getting any better.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">With a content smile she ended her jogging session and turned back to
her home, where her husband and children were waiting.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K3J71tYuzkw0Ce4Ns4ZA65WLCGAPz5HmYGUPNauEZblmWrCKtbTTQLQC6NtO8kP52057nUPgSQQDhPG7lOpYinRgE0gFzuJLP69syw6BuS59desgQJwqMrz9pONVhUcoCOCuqD2z7ZA/s1600/314.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K3J71tYuzkw0Ce4Ns4ZA65WLCGAPz5HmYGUPNauEZblmWrCKtbTTQLQC6NtO8kP52057nUPgSQQDhPG7lOpYinRgE0gFzuJLP69syw6BuS59desgQJwqMrz9pONVhUcoCOCuqD2z7ZA/s640/314.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan was laughing happily while he challenged Blaise at the video
game, and Mireille was avidly watching the kitten, being all sweet and innocent
instead of sulky hellion for a change. Lyra smiled at the image of domestic
bliss before picking up her brushes and walking over to her easel. She couldn’t
ask for a better way to spend the evening.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She should’ve known it wouldn’t last.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvypPTtRYXUAs9u17dIe-tVfJdxw7IZUFU86hxKrcdbAnVpBIKXmBCYVe5-cmrcTY-W_p6irpcBlyqU4Qj-3IFc-jb20JaIT3U72ujoa1iFayimZg0tI2sf4lDYE0Sx1eS-TLk4ooEb8k/s1600/314.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvypPTtRYXUAs9u17dIe-tVfJdxw7IZUFU86hxKrcdbAnVpBIKXmBCYVe5-cmrcTY-W_p6irpcBlyqU4Qj-3IFc-jb20JaIT3U72ujoa1iFayimZg0tI2sf4lDYE0Sx1eS-TLk4ooEb8k/s640/314.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiWGiwyMLv99ICWToXuuw0zqKTgpyeccshFpHf_nbCqIfOQ1eS8RUetYq_69okyioD_A2NQ4c2Mub6GgbMhx06sZgq4PDqcAST9k0wRudyY25Z1CncwpgjH5KSxbi7ErLSN0z5n6oqh8/s1600/314.36b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiWGiwyMLv99ICWToXuuw0zqKTgpyeccshFpHf_nbCqIfOQ1eS8RUetYq_69okyioD_A2NQ4c2Mub6GgbMhx06sZgq4PDqcAST9k0wRudyY25Z1CncwpgjH5KSxbi7ErLSN0z5n6oqh8/s640/314.36b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The call didn’t come as a surprise. Her mother’s health had steadily
gotten worse, and although Lyra and her siblings had tried to spend as much
time with their mother as possible, they had all known the end wouldn’t be
far-off. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It still didn’t make the news any easier to bear.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheuTWR1nKLvNp2FQdjrBR_ma4SXw8Uiueei3uaTYV3qudSMwGoewbuSi6GtbikNbIpdLCB3AZpl__BYtOECDV_OxD2UEa6JWydPexLvEFSc8VAA6t7u3DFhcflK37eaCqVWgHBvVGH4A/s1600/314.37.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheuTWR1nKLvNp2FQdjrBR_ma4SXw8Uiueei3uaTYV3qudSMwGoewbuSi6GtbikNbIpdLCB3AZpl__BYtOECDV_OxD2UEa6JWydPexLvEFSc8VAA6t7u3DFhcflK37eaCqVWgHBvVGH4A/s1600/314.37.png" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She did her best to deal with the loss, but it was the little things
that made her remember her mom and realise that all the special moments they
used to spend together had now come to an end. It was her mom who had taught
her how to make pancakes, and it was her mom who had given them the painting
hanging above their dining table. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">At least her mom had lived a full life, and she had gone peacefully and
painlessly in her sleep. Lyra’s memories of her wouldn’t be coloured by the
senseless violence that marred her memories of her dad.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf34PiXX790AG6hH-1609MXRNkVKmWmKfrwJczuE7K-XyadfRKkn_0Po910wbrHJcUl8sZ0dwLhGltE0W75uBZi3djK2b6z5Mw1O4wfSkDOZbtp8qBgVoqcfgDn9TtjzLaPri9oeAISWI/s1600/314.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf34PiXX790AG6hH-1609MXRNkVKmWmKfrwJczuE7K-XyadfRKkn_0Po910wbrHJcUl8sZ0dwLhGltE0W75uBZi3djK2b6z5Mw1O4wfSkDOZbtp8qBgVoqcfgDn9TtjzLaPri9oeAISWI/s640/314.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">With her mom’s death, the chest Chantia had brought along to Moonlight
Falls from Sunset Valley fell into Lyra’s possession. It was filled to the brim
with old photos and décor, and Lyra allowed herself to spend an entire
afternoon caught up in nostalgia and sentimentality. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3pmYHtmTF_oc6ktHvCzAnpNGtdTgVd2QDEIEbVzwnsGcJwfQUVLoTebwtghu9ZB8M4ypnDrVbXfRcdO5csoLuvCGaNXW8An3VNhRk3M9Ia8zBS2Xkeg2k7SREh8Dkt_KVkddsqL0KaU/s1600/314.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3pmYHtmTF_oc6ktHvCzAnpNGtdTgVd2QDEIEbVzwnsGcJwfQUVLoTebwtghu9ZB8M4ypnDrVbXfRcdO5csoLuvCGaNXW8An3VNhRk3M9Ia8zBS2Xkeg2k7SREh8Dkt_KVkddsqL0KaU/s640/314.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was the items stored in the very bottom of the chest that completely
threw her for a loop. Lyra gingerly lifted one of the pots out of the chest,
wondering if the object in her hand was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really
</i>what she thought it was. There was a little plaque attached to the bottom,
and Lyra strained her eyes as she tried to read the engraving.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It took all her willpower to not immediately drop the pot once she made
out the tiny words. She was literally holding her grandmother in her hands. And
if the pot in her hands were her grandmother, that meant the other three pots
in the chest were…</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She gently placed the pot in her hand on the floor beside her and looked
back into the chest, gingerly lifting out the other pots one by one.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRUOzNJTg_OCWdP_qLII3ZMJBjDX9Q6yeakOII3HQEhnXlYgtAdWooWL-mZcjv7OZeo5TNar0Cp9PQMXdmTZJ9oIWj98mTZPa1TD67_1fnK5eczL1sokWCJrToLzcSkcJVQO-0jC8gr0/s1600/314.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRUOzNJTg_OCWdP_qLII3ZMJBjDX9Q6yeakOII3HQEhnXlYgtAdWooWL-mZcjv7OZeo5TNar0Cp9PQMXdmTZJ9oIWj98mTZPa1TD67_1fnK5eczL1sokWCJrToLzcSkcJVQO-0jC8gr0/s640/314.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Yep. Four pots of ashes. Her grandparents, aunt, and dad.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It filled her with conflicting emotions. A part of her was glad their
remains hadn’t stayed behind in Sunset Valley, where no one would care about
it, and yet…they had all been dead and buried for years. It felt too much like
sacrilege. Their final resting places shouldn’t have been disturbed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She suddenly realised she didn’t know what had become of Sionann and
Adrian’s remains. There had never been a funeral or the like, and at the time
she had been too overwhelmed by everything that had happened to wonder about
it. She wondered if Blaise would know.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDwexNk4OkZbwd1XErtjVecREABzx_mPJ0kXjmxk5DpdhiIrKATXqNPhpj0qGn31UvhjgxkX5RJ2FVIkjkvJ3MICDQGKInbJ4Lsw7s6jz2NJNlRHq7C76f5vaKL2-0zzCdbjQs3a1gh8/s1600/314.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDwexNk4OkZbwd1XErtjVecREABzx_mPJ0kXjmxk5DpdhiIrKATXqNPhpj0qGn31UvhjgxkX5RJ2FVIkjkvJ3MICDQGKInbJ4Lsw7s6jz2NJNlRHq7C76f5vaKL2-0zzCdbjQs3a1gh8/s640/314.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He tugged at his earring when she asked him, an old habit of his she
knew he only did when he’s upset, but didn’t want to admit it.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Alison and Leneo took care of it,” he admitted, staring broodingly off
to the side. “Not sure about the details, but I believe they were sent back to
their families. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Ealdwine,
Sionann’s brother.” He gestured vaguely towards the eastern side of the town.
“I believe he lives somewhere in the centre of town.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQjjbVB-3prlciOjgLHdRZLjgr16s5JHFmLqJtVCm5iHH3ttVXe34xpcIAo9kHav_LVo_xiyNB4AW66T34TI3rUCGYw63JNhJU0XXiK_jlxBFdoDywkejvfin3tHW3kM1ZNmw-yAuNpg/s1600/314.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQjjbVB-3prlciOjgLHdRZLjgr16s5JHFmLqJtVCm5iHH3ttVXe34xpcIAo9kHav_LVo_xiyNB4AW66T34TI3rUCGYw63JNhJU0XXiK_jlxBFdoDywkejvfin3tHW3kM1ZNmw-yAuNpg/s640/314.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra crossed her arms, a little incredulous.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Are you telling me,” Lyra demanded disbelievingly, “that Reagan has
family living <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in Moonlight Falls </i>and
you never bothered to tell me?!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise immediately mirrored her, brow sinking low over his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>him to meet that
asshole,” he declared firmly. “Ealdwine is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing
</i>like Sionann. He’s a mean-spirited, selfish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bastard</i>, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">won’t </i>let
him hurt Reagan. As his only living family, Reagan <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>want to get to know him, and Ealdwine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">won’t. </i>Reagan has enough self-confidence issues already <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without</i> a rejection like that.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYhPVjTjIj4kXvyA5keV1gdHGMiOYB57GM-SuMkaGQaxM-mn_uBPjlTztvFU2tMpq11tUSuQ1x4t4Jxb3bfHmP63Xp2bjNgf41ye_6le6vZ-omWbj3RWhTeK0yIKDek8oY7vqJJ8XNvg/s1600/314.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYhPVjTjIj4kXvyA5keV1gdHGMiOYB57GM-SuMkaGQaxM-mn_uBPjlTztvFU2tMpq11tUSuQ1x4t4Jxb3bfHmP63Xp2bjNgf41ye_6le6vZ-omWbj3RWhTeK0yIKDek8oY7vqJJ8XNvg/s640/314.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so sure </i>this Ealdwine won’t want to meet
him?” Lyra asked sceptically. “Does he even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know
</i>his sister had a son?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise gave an affirmative grunt.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“He does,” he confirmed, still scowling. “And he’s already told me he
doesn’t care to meet him. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">won’t </i>let
Reagan get hurt.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fine,” Lyra agreed, partly
satisfied with his answer. She knew him well enough to know he would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>do something that would comprise
Reagan or Mireille’s happiness, so she was willing to let the matter go. But
that didn’t mean she would blindly follow Blaise’s opinion until she met the
man herself.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4iCqpBZ3vH3vFM1j_OBVW-rSw4NognGOQ6ZSPqtgVtzz2SiYW5re5BcmbMJtoERM2nZT6zYq-04NvtpCXg5pF9cbD8PkfT6uOaeNfcBik-FjZFQtUzq1N1PATYQRgMY40RV1V_vUkdg/s1600/314.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4iCqpBZ3vH3vFM1j_OBVW-rSw4NognGOQ6ZSPqtgVtzz2SiYW5re5BcmbMJtoERM2nZT6zYq-04NvtpCXg5pF9cbD8PkfT6uOaeNfcBik-FjZFQtUzq1N1PATYQRgMY40RV1V_vUkdg/s640/314.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She sought him out the next day, and it didn’t take her long to form the
same opinion about him. Ealdwine was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing
</i>like his sister. Sionann had been sweet and gentle and caring, but Ealdwine
was rude and mean and, quite frankly, Lyra couldn’t see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>redeemable about the man. He had nothing good to say about
his sister, and when he made a disparaging comment about Reagan, Lyra saw
white.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9f9Ofz2_0lzWLa7-BPi-bPUVk4N3IBZ87yPVCGbevnGV65bGnYoXYwR6LKnS0l7nlTTUdSYSjfbIRTP1JA-qR_jm4ej3nM2VfxUyY45mBlPi9OnRaIoT4nToLk4WRGQCSQETduF8-Wg/s1600/314.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9f9Ofz2_0lzWLa7-BPi-bPUVk4N3IBZ87yPVCGbevnGV65bGnYoXYwR6LKnS0l7nlTTUdSYSjfbIRTP1JA-qR_jm4ej3nM2VfxUyY45mBlPi9OnRaIoT4nToLk4WRGQCSQETduF8-Wg/s640/314.45.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>see you near Reagan,” she hissed threateningly, “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>destroy you. Don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>go close to him, and don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>approach him. I don’t care if
you’re family or not, because you’re a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to
meet him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stay away </i>from my family.”</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spun on her heel and stormed away, furious beyond believe. Reagan
might not be of her blood, but he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hers
</i>now and she would be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damned </i>before
she allowed someone to hurt him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">AN: Sorry for the toddler spam at the start, but Mireille’s so darn
pretty, I can’t get enough of her. I love toddlers in-game. <3 </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan’s sleepover party was probably the single most successful party
I’ve ever had in the game. My parties are normally all over the place, but with
this one everybody actually played together, and when it was time to sleep they
automatically chose the same area. I’m so proud of them. XD</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Marlin Diffy got designated the Town Brat in-game, which is why he’s a
bully.</span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">For those curious, Ealdwine really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is
</i>Sionann’s brother. Sionann got their dad’s colouring, but her features are
more their mom, while Ealdwine got their mom’s colouring, but more their dad’s
features.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Also, this made me happy. I guess their feud really is over. :D</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86ajt9cJ7zjzussXqBNinUSoqHItKNhkIMs-08GjQLNdLcCRRlkpBl4yt_jW9BEqjT0fA15J1UzAh97l4rN1to0-DnNw1o0heUc1cpKeABi7rV0Omfn09QkmFLhoddLwrVbblkp-tG6I/s1600/Untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="116" data-original-width="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj86ajt9cJ7zjzussXqBNinUSoqHItKNhkIMs-08GjQLNdLcCRRlkpBl4yt_jW9BEqjT0fA15J1UzAh97l4rN1to0-DnNw1o0heUc1cpKeABi7rV0Omfn09QkmFLhoddLwrVbblkp-tG6I/s1600/Untitled.png" /></span></a></div>
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convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-44510978396122261552017-12-03T17:55:00.001+02:002017-12-03T20:03:15.221+02:00Chapter 3.13 - Don't Need A Ring<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">*Warning: …Actually, there’s no
warning this chapter. Lyra and Blaise actually behaved. XD But I'll plop down the bad language warning just for in case.*<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>being pregnant.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was constantly hot and tired, and her back <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hurt </i>from the extra strain. Bending over was an exercise in itself,
and it didn’t help much that Reagan was at an age where he still occasionally
wanted to be picked up. To make things worse, she often found herself waking up
at unearthly hours, still tired, but unable to sleep further from the
discomfort. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">missed </i>being able to
sleep on her stomach.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lWIFfM5-ClmPDjuGOIaPJpPUuhsUsCD1qJ6gsFcAPNDorn4as08w9mI5BAJ1dmp0Wua1UE5dumENwAGAL691K4pEAI8ONm7D4maIqV3aCznQoKO445grAckuECgCeBFfk5q5nWqx2kc/s1600/313.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lWIFfM5-ClmPDjuGOIaPJpPUuhsUsCD1qJ6gsFcAPNDorn4as08w9mI5BAJ1dmp0Wua1UE5dumENwAGAL691K4pEAI8ONm7D4maIqV3aCznQoKO445grAckuECgCeBFfk5q5nWqx2kc/s640/313.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spent a lot of time simply painting, trying to push the constant
discomfort to the back of her mind. The easel was one of the first indulgences
she’d bought herself once they could afford to spend a little on luxuries. It
was one of the only hobbies she’d kept from childhood, and one she had missed
dearly those years she’d lived on the Island.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan was playing contently beside her, speaking clumsily and making
growling noises as he played with the dinosaur toy, and Lyra allowed herself to
smile at the sound, once again realizing how much she loved the little boy.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzj4KVelqRBZxiqRWuW57rDK1x3sJEsDRa53phbIw37yTG09NB628hzkkphXiynFXl9lDKHmCm8BDTWUKiP5dZEL0CamV8QEWJJJqwl3xFSXg2myoNAekToEu5yOJsX-JmuahrTeVSBgI/s1600/313.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzj4KVelqRBZxiqRWuW57rDK1x3sJEsDRa53phbIw37yTG09NB628hzkkphXiynFXl9lDKHmCm8BDTWUKiP5dZEL0CamV8QEWJJJqwl3xFSXg2myoNAekToEu5yOJsX-JmuahrTeVSBgI/s640/313.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strangest </i>sound,
followed by Reagan’s delighted laughter, and Lyra immediately jerked her eyes
to him, afraid he might be doing something dangerous, but he was still exactly
the same, playing happily with his toy. She turned back to her painting, but
she heard the sound <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again </i>and this
time she was quick enough to notice his toy disappearing in a cloud of smoke.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;">What </span></i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;">was going on? It was clearly Reagan’s doing, as
the toy suddenly appeared again in a flash of light, and once again he laughed
delightedly.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyI5JI7WX_3dcgi94BEUYh_AjFMOJH5cinySwTbk_QILpv58R04rsxg8sLxBq9aAdANOZFF_3UeOxtJuIQoFEexivagSPi1vIk_eb64v9cUaK-Tv5cjVjSoEk6RiuBN3nDUUOBRVtMS0/s1600/313.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyI5JI7WX_3dcgi94BEUYh_AjFMOJH5cinySwTbk_QILpv58R04rsxg8sLxBq9aAdANOZFF_3UeOxtJuIQoFEexivagSPi1vIk_eb64v9cUaK-Tv5cjVjSoEk6RiuBN3nDUUOBRVtMS0/s640/313.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Reagan? What are doing,
sweetie?” Lyra gently asked him, completely baffled. He immediately smiled up
to her, delighted that she was giving him attention.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“P’ayin!” he exclaimed happily and made the toy disappear and reappear
again. “Toy go poof! The’ come ba’!” He toddled over to her and raised his
arms, wordlessly demanding to be picked up. He was getting too heavy to really
carry around, and they really needed to break him of that habit, but Lyra still
gave in and picked him up, mindful of her oversized belly getting in the way.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0aRfQVBMchEICfNW3O8zp3bRI9t5I91fXBJTv5_xnRcrJT-xPX27OtK13j-y0tdlbn9_1gr1VYXIu50AFOdMAcq_lgmCM1tdajsQStv-YcGC3avmoQTUg2veUy627TKOSA5xzEkUjBY/s1600/313.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0aRfQVBMchEICfNW3O8zp3bRI9t5I91fXBJTv5_xnRcrJT-xPX27OtK13j-y0tdlbn9_1gr1VYXIu50AFOdMAcq_lgmCM1tdajsQStv-YcGC3avmoQTUg2veUy627TKOSA5xzEkUjBY/s640/313.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So I see,” Lyra agreed
indulgently. “But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how </i>are you doing
it?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He looked at her in confusion, looking like he didn’t understand the
question.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Jus’ do,” he replied innocently and blinked worriedly at her, like he
was afraid she’d disapprove. “Want toy go poof, toy go poof.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, really?” Lyra teased him and dropped the subject, giving him a bob
on his nose. Immediately and predictably, he pouted at her, and he was so damn
adorable, Lyra couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t even need haywire hormones
to feel like he was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhieUj7zx_V6t-UDaajT2N226InAChmTMjn6YPwxyuKNznPnnq_NUHUzLK_oUHaZGFONSYzj-AylSfmJOodFepTI1ODVLPwMIMddesiON0qtuAl104YnYpQT5q02M5PN_k7aqgHq05sGTo/s1600/313.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhieUj7zx_V6t-UDaajT2N226InAChmTMjn6YPwxyuKNznPnnq_NUHUzLK_oUHaZGFONSYzj-AylSfmJOodFepTI1ODVLPwMIMddesiON0qtuAl104YnYpQT5q02M5PN_k7aqgHq05sGTo/s640/313.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did you know Reagan can make his
toys disappear?” Lyra asked Blaise as breakfast, still worried about phenomena.
It couldn’t be normal. Sure, it wasn’t like she really knew much about magical
children, as Reagan so clearly was (how could he not be, with Sionann and
Adrian as his parents?), but still. It was just a little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too </i>weird.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hmm,” Blaise grunted in agreement, completely unconcerned. “I’m not
surprised.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re not?” Lyra asked baffled. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was
</i>normal then? As if he read her mind, Blaise looked at her and raised an
eyebrow.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s completely normal, Lyra,”
he assured her. “It’s something like a rite of passage. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All </i>mage children do that. It’s a safe way of playing with their
magic and discovering what they can do with it. Nothing special about it.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3gYDgI2nhWO5FmNEu-3VwA3Dnqqh7Ma7Db_gne6aLQvn5R8LhhDvwYg9rvZuml1Y_SX6ZVPnxT4a704nEwKt5KeXjZvAgZYtKV3_wobzeq0QuVrFU1Zm5o6ogSHZwc24R7GN8Cf1c6g/s1600/313.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3gYDgI2nhWO5FmNEu-3VwA3Dnqqh7Ma7Db_gne6aLQvn5R8LhhDvwYg9rvZuml1Y_SX6ZVPnxT4a704nEwKt5KeXjZvAgZYtKV3_wobzeq0QuVrFU1Zm5o6ogSHZwc24R7GN8Cf1c6g/s640/313.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra opened her mouth to reply, but her baby kicked for the very first
time and her mind completely blanked out. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper,
</i>what a weird feeling. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was a baby inside her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There
was a baby inside her</i>. To her, it had never been anything more than an
inconvenience, something that had to be endured and get it over and done with,
but with those first fluttering movements, it suddenly hit her like a brick.
There was a tiny person inside her, and one day that tiny person would have a
personality of its own and call her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mom</i>.
It was terrifying. For the first time, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that
</i>idea was scarier than the thought of going through labour. For the first
time, her pregnancy was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>and not
just something weird that was happening to her body.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was going to become a mother. Her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">son </i>or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daughter </i>was
growing inside her. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around that.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4O1xRgu2RGPysMX6SPL0E26ssH-GwzDj3Vzcb8VpCa1OYFCgimRaQ-BXaq6e6qPx5WW_AwJjE_cJzSRbTl90s2TGX9PnqcbQKtR9dAIeM4F9sfuUEayGmz9I_vrYrnA29kwH8DUOkg4/s1600/313.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4O1xRgu2RGPysMX6SPL0E26ssH-GwzDj3Vzcb8VpCa1OYFCgimRaQ-BXaq6e6qPx5WW_AwJjE_cJzSRbTl90s2TGX9PnqcbQKtR9dAIeM4F9sfuUEayGmz9I_vrYrnA29kwH8DUOkg4/s640/313.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You okay?” Blaise asked, his
brows lowered concernedly. Lyra snapped out of her bemusement and turned back
to the conversation.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Ah, yes,” she reassured him. “The baby just kicked, that’s all. It’s
just…a really weird feeling.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His frown deepened at that piece of info, and he lowered his fork,
staring at her with worry in his eyes. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“That reminds me,” he informed her, clearly changing the subject. “You
mind getting a check-up? At the hospital. I just want to make sure nothing is
wrong between your and the baby’s magic.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViOqctEbcIXqmdurCJwLIv96rtnjKXGTd5mqi6iMky24OuxAkW9CnfwR_UNYAZH0JfsyWQXBHs8mujpX7KOwX0HkOsQ8ohsPDqi10jStUfbNWo5W3EtyY3ctSSyhic98LGMXBkofPLIw/s1600/313.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViOqctEbcIXqmdurCJwLIv96rtnjKXGTd5mqi6iMky24OuxAkW9CnfwR_UNYAZH0JfsyWQXBHs8mujpX7KOwX0HkOsQ8ohsPDqi10jStUfbNWo5W3EtyY3ctSSyhic98LGMXBkofPLIw/s640/313.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The request immediately made Lyra pause. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby’s </i>magic?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Of course. She and Blaise were both magical. There was no way the baby
wouldn’t be magical as well. How could she not have realised that earlier?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okay,” she agreed easily. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">last
</i>thing she wanted was complications with the pregnancy. Seeing a doctor
wouldn’t take that much time, and even though it was expensive, it was better
to be safe than sorry.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7CqGMwvs-XHJa5cK9qvL3zVPQvwwViHhkrOHxjrod1TqiVC7Ezi1DfTVA97xWBAQHWgqbhqroy0Db124GOqK7Ip0aFqz2d2BbEk-LX4c-u3Z-UXd_odrH6-p8JLdKz-5K2H0Zd0zXBLU/s1600/313.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7CqGMwvs-XHJa5cK9qvL3zVPQvwwViHhkrOHxjrod1TqiVC7Ezi1DfTVA97xWBAQHWgqbhqroy0Db124GOqK7Ip0aFqz2d2BbEk-LX4c-u3Z-UXd_odrH6-p8JLdKz-5K2H0Zd0zXBLU/s640/313.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Later on, when she walked out of the hospital after seeing the doctor,
she felt like it had been a waste of money – money that could’ve been spent
better, like getting a new <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">toilet</i>,
one that didn’t constantly break and leak and leave puddles all over the floor.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with either her or the baby, who she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>found out was going to be a girl. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well?” Blaise asked her when she stepped into the house. He hadn’t been
able to go to the appointment with her, as Reagan was a bit feverish and moody,
and they had both decided it would be better if Blaise stayed home with the
toddler.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGycX5Uyd6ZjUFPzPkzYexNsGj86ijgwfYzZnfwprMWTTXX21BuR6MDa8jfXZjmL9dENfZA1VnebHzjx8PozuT8R2vQ89LI0CGC916KdTSGzeGZp28mT0eYm3bqxj8FwRemrKxH6khcUI/s1600/313.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGycX5Uyd6ZjUFPzPkzYexNsGj86ijgwfYzZnfwprMWTTXX21BuR6MDa8jfXZjmL9dENfZA1VnebHzjx8PozuT8R2vQ89LI0CGC916KdTSGzeGZp28mT0eYm3bqxj8FwRemrKxH6khcUI/s640/313.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Congratulations,” Lyra stated
dryly, still a little put-off by the amount of money she’d had to pay for
basically a gender check. “You’re going to be the father of a healthy, happy,
disgustingly heavy, baby girl. We’re fine. I’m fine, the baby’s fine, we’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">both </i>fine. You can stop worrying.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His expression softened, and he smiled at her, clearly relieved. It was
one of his incredibly rare, genuine full-mouthed smiles, and Lyra felt her own
mouth respond. Her baby kicked, rather insistently, and Lyra took Blaise’s hand
and laid it on her belly. It would be the first time he’d be able to feel his
daughter move.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5GnxAvj_ddZtmRVeBFwebiloys_s4p_ycz8znQcAwDJQEtItqn5maqwRN-a4GfYOsTQeLkWOxUHrYyzmTn3BBxZKIFamIh-om3fmNKdmnA4PLyb3wKFZxJWaoCvM3Bj7ToBxo2OkUNM/s1600/313.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5GnxAvj_ddZtmRVeBFwebiloys_s4p_ycz8znQcAwDJQEtItqn5maqwRN-a4GfYOsTQeLkWOxUHrYyzmTn3BBxZKIFamIh-om3fmNKdmnA4PLyb3wKFZxJWaoCvM3Bj7ToBxo2OkUNM/s640/313.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sure enough, she kicked again, and Blaise’s eyes widened with wonder.
His smile widened, and Lyra felt her heart swell a little at the sight, and
butterflies fluttered in her stomach that had nothing to do with the overly
heavy foetus inside her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper, </i>she
loved him. She really, really loved him. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re lucky,” he murmured, hands still caressing her belly. “You’ve
only recently come into your magic, so I thought…” He shook his head and pulled
his hands away. ‘Never mind. You’re healthy. That’s all that matters.” He
pulled her into his arms, holding tightly onto her, and Lyra closed her eyes,
enjoying his arms around her. They were strong and warm and protective, and
Lyra knew the warm feeling in her chest was happiness.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbClffTqfC707_x-i_izD9diVx-vFkEnbJJd3UIs580TuxIhjFUjMDIvaXmYQPgTGAWTVgh8yDvHGSHn1ESCS7ssDLSyiSUpIFrCAr22xYiZtxHf2A8DKWEFFdG3n4AHhsO15yyDYG0oY/s1600/313.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbClffTqfC707_x-i_izD9diVx-vFkEnbJJd3UIs580TuxIhjFUjMDIvaXmYQPgTGAWTVgh8yDvHGSHn1ESCS7ssDLSyiSUpIFrCAr22xYiZtxHf2A8DKWEFFdG3n4AHhsO15yyDYG0oY/s640/313.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra listened to the rain drum on the roof, feeling warm and content
while she snuggled deeper into the covers, Blaise’s warmth a familiar comfort
against her. The house was quiet and peaceful, and Lyra felt like she could
stay in bed forever. She wasn’t entirely sure what woke her, but –</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Oh. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That </i>was what woke her.
Her water had broken, and the contractions were starting.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCPJJSwEedLt3B-5VzB6OugCV6ZnBwkdJELdFPGKsLT0p9AME0CcBpqjSbWGC741yv4YBCKvgMql_FgmkvWHeLmlPczJYbRprS65xui_YlEL0ohCo1Tn54rShyphenhyphenx35QDklv0olXSFm5q4/s1600/313.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCPJJSwEedLt3B-5VzB6OugCV6ZnBwkdJELdFPGKsLT0p9AME0CcBpqjSbWGC741yv4YBCKvgMql_FgmkvWHeLmlPczJYbRprS65xui_YlEL0ohCo1Tn54rShyphenhyphenx35QDklv0olXSFm5q4/s640/313.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Blaise,” she poked him on the
shoulder, trying to wake him up. He stirred and groaned, but there was no other
response. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise</i>,” she tried again,
and this time he opened his eyes, staring crossly at her.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What is it?” he murmured, his voice gruff and husky with sleep.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“The baby’s coming.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He jerked upright, all thoughts of sleep completely out of his mind.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What?” he asked dumbly. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now?</i>”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vgtrJptGAfX9O5gwfphKzqtGl13tCw-fK0p8gGbeUAsocrEViQNct0qG8AMnNdWFU0ZWq799tqnDrHhSNJMu-IyEWaTuu_A7d9nhgZ1tEB_DN_e8XWWfuJjpmYV9xSK1sOOdYnEJRRU/s1600/313.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vgtrJptGAfX9O5gwfphKzqtGl13tCw-fK0p8gGbeUAsocrEViQNct0qG8AMnNdWFU0ZWq799tqnDrHhSNJMu-IyEWaTuu_A7d9nhgZ1tEB_DN_e8XWWfuJjpmYV9xSK1sOOdYnEJRRU/s640/313.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now,</i>” she snapped irritably. “Go and get Reagan and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">let’s go</i>.” There was a play-centre at
the hospital where people could leave their children under supervision while
they completed their business at the hospital, and Lyra and Blaise had
previously decided they’d leave Reagan there when Lyra’s due date arrived. It was
easier than getting a babysitter or leaving him with family.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The toddler was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>happy at
being woken so early, and by the time they were ready to leave, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everybody </i>was irritable. Lyra’s
contractions were getting closer and more painful, and she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> than ready for the baby to get the
hell out of her. The fact that she had to wait in the wind and rain for the
taxi to arrive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>help either.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4MBcg40kf5_7YNwfILLLI4GGrl-eYqeBcfOX8ta48GMZOuLG_qLhZeBrE4Fy7IIoiJKHzZCLSMaVYFE7ediEQltEswNB3dlIjviktdhHtHvV3OgmSFRlnQWQ5gA-tt2BAwnNOFAaVUM/s1600/313.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4MBcg40kf5_7YNwfILLLI4GGrl-eYqeBcfOX8ta48GMZOuLG_qLhZeBrE4Fy7IIoiJKHzZCLSMaVYFE7ediEQltEswNB3dlIjviktdhHtHvV3OgmSFRlnQWQ5gA-tt2BAwnNOFAaVUM/s640/313.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a relatively short labour, and three hours later, Mireille
Marquel was brought into the world. Simultaneously, Lyra made a very important
decision.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She would never, ever, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>go
through that again. She didn’t care how much it would cost, but she was going
to use a more permanent method of birth control from now on; one that wouldn’t
be able to fail. If being pregnant had been hell, it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>compared to the actual labour itself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Never. Again.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CgkHA-bmgeogcEqMcDdy4r0ZCO06KMW1vcQXuTorvmBdpKFaCf2DAtfl6Fgd3pclKdx2ta4BzOz3zNWHeD5kl6Pa4aZjyyANHcaghFkKjDccyQwcz-iQyGRdBbpcwBrfMot1Hl5ygs8/s1600/313.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CgkHA-bmgeogcEqMcDdy4r0ZCO06KMW1vcQXuTorvmBdpKFaCf2DAtfl6Fgd3pclKdx2ta4BzOz3zNWHeD5kl6Pa4aZjyyANHcaghFkKjDccyQwcz-iQyGRdBbpcwBrfMot1Hl5ygs8/s640/313.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">To top it all off, Mireille wasn’t an easy baby to care for. She cried a
lot, for seemingly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no </i>reason, and
while Reagan had started sleeping through the night pretty early on, waking
them only once or twice, Mireille woke her parents <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at least </i>four times. It was very trying, and for the first couple
of weeks, the energy in the house was very frazzled as the household attempted
to adjust.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan, especially, was badly affected by the change in routine. He
became moody and demanding, and all the effort they’d put in to break him of
the picking-up habit seemed to go right out the door.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6O0YNSAWkD3YJkOtOyEm9Mu5V-RtqImp-Ek8Qj1VNNlolweCuVcyu3ppT5ITXZClIKrtHwBJPT-N3mt8gBuvvcct6qgKD3JNOzQ8Y3g707svmt3Kv9l4QoUdw-DvEyBkFF2DnTRzwCn0/s1600/313.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6O0YNSAWkD3YJkOtOyEm9Mu5V-RtqImp-Ek8Qj1VNNlolweCuVcyu3ppT5ITXZClIKrtHwBJPT-N3mt8gBuvvcct6qgKD3JNOzQ8Y3g707svmt3Kv9l4QoUdw-DvEyBkFF2DnTRzwCn0/s640/313.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">With Mireille’s birth came a string of congratulatory calls and
well-wishes from friends and family. To be completely honest, it annoyed Lyra
just a little bit. It wasn’t that big an achievement – all it had taken was for
their birth control to fail, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">once</i>. But
she understood that others placed a ridiculously high value on things like
that, so she endured the calls as much as she could.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But when her mom called for the fourth time, she admitted it might be
better to invite the entire family over so they could get their fill of
‘newborn baby’ and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop pestering </i>her.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlSXWZ6L8Y5jD2bn7qFOGqkj7bSuVrrJ2vLsoWwjl9F1E24EO6hZYJaAlO7bcLoCf_HrCHhXJb9TbHnxWn2C1H2f07zT7kwrBfjMH77WmySH-5qIpHyNrDxL7oNTjXr6er7oKbWQtF08/s1600/313.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlSXWZ6L8Y5jD2bn7qFOGqkj7bSuVrrJ2vLsoWwjl9F1E24EO6hZYJaAlO7bcLoCf_HrCHhXJb9TbHnxWn2C1H2f07zT7kwrBfjMH77WmySH-5qIpHyNrDxL7oNTjXr6er7oKbWQtF08/s640/313.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s so good to see you,” her
mom said happily as Lyra gave her a welcoming hug. “You haven’t been around to
visit me lately.” Her tone was slightly accusing, and Lyra felt a little
guilty. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>been a while since she
last visited her mom. “Now, where’s your baby? I want to meet my newest
grandchild.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hello to you too, Mom,” Lyra replied dryly. “Would you like something
to drink? Mireille isn’t going anywhere. You’ll have more than enough time to
meet her later.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her mom placed her hands on her hips, clearly not impressed by the
statement.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra,” she began rebukingly,
“there had been a time I believed I lost you, and now you have given me a
grandchild. Surely, I deserve to meet the baby of my baby?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7fc4uiI-iEd9fk_uFEJ-rvfUMy3CJJOQ1bqLaU_shZ3wCorX1IV8kOuP8l_hZCG0bEonJQWuuA-fZ4lgM900a4Pd3HsMCPLurx6CMFeE9qEbPWkWNE7SF6ES1VBjurtvj2kZX9CZilU/s1600/313.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq7fc4uiI-iEd9fk_uFEJ-rvfUMy3CJJOQ1bqLaU_shZ3wCorX1IV8kOuP8l_hZCG0bEonJQWuuA-fZ4lgM900a4Pd3HsMCPLurx6CMFeE9qEbPWkWNE7SF6ES1VBjurtvj2kZX9CZilU/s640/313.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra sighed and rolled her eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper,
</i>her mom could be stubborn.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Later Mom,” she promised stubbornly and gestured at Blaise to come over
so she could introduce him to her mom. They hadn’t been able to meet before.
That customary scowl was on his face, but to her relief, he was civil and
polite to her mom.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, don’t be so tense,” her mom rebuked him and greeted him with a firm
handshake and a warm smile. “Welcome to the family.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzl7BcfJcCDyP4KlL_xyW1tRx-mvxFqqVPXd771hiODLb2oySmcluY_RgygQ9n8k0IwObVO06vfpMJ0TShXNSJ_JjmRp5IDn1r7zhINPi11EHVDfwOQOXT52ic7__lNDtP034gBjJbWI/s1600/313.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzl7BcfJcCDyP4KlL_xyW1tRx-mvxFqqVPXd771hiODLb2oySmcluY_RgygQ9n8k0IwObVO06vfpMJ0TShXNSJ_JjmRp5IDn1r7zhINPi11EHVDfwOQOXT52ic7__lNDtP034gBjJbWI/s640/313.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Soon afterwards, Renard and Arienne arrived as well. Like their mom,
Arienne was very eager to meet Mireille, but Renard was more interested in
meeting the man Lyra had chosen to live with.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t give him too much grief, okay?” Lyra warned her brother as she
welcomed him in. “I don’t want drama today.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“No promises,” Renard laughed warmly, but Lyra knew she didn’t have to
worry too much. Renard was a joker and a prankster, but he knew where to draw
the line.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcpJTu3aPXE9xc48qx0epjJNUUBRQCsK_Ge50vtZikEX0vsCtPXSMdJr06b3OMu88mpOKQwezqPUITumoWqPec3BwKn0UFisn12amROuwy9r17V_3hLCRF0xJSruD_c854lcNEVrArUk/s1600/313.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcpJTu3aPXE9xc48qx0epjJNUUBRQCsK_Ge50vtZikEX0vsCtPXSMdJr06b3OMu88mpOKQwezqPUITumoWqPec3BwKn0UFisn12amROuwy9r17V_3hLCRF0xJSruD_c854lcNEVrArUk/s640/313.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Party spam!)</span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNMJQDrWMKGP6WarxHncT1klzcU8_5uENpBxeRMSmdlBRiP_EaFBq_kox4eU7NDFXn9lnyvu62BFpjPCOFbJz4Xsj6eHfQupJZTp2CSQPbvtQ-9HKnNGkLeJpmpCX2RL1qlAcYsDy67Y/s1600/313.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNMJQDrWMKGP6WarxHncT1klzcU8_5uENpBxeRMSmdlBRiP_EaFBq_kox4eU7NDFXn9lnyvu62BFpjPCOFbJz4Xsj6eHfQupJZTp2CSQPbvtQ-9HKnNGkLeJpmpCX2RL1qlAcYsDy67Y/s640/313.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, when are you due?” Lyra
asked Arienne when she finally got chance to catch up with her sister without
interruptions. Arienne had married the father of her unborn baby in a quiet,
private ceremony, and last Lyra heard, they very happy with each other.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Any day now,” Arienne assured her enthusiastically. “And to be honest,
I can’t wait. I’m ready for the baby to be born now. We still know don’t the
gender, but I’m hoping it’s a girl.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf9dPo6297AupPbUONxx72SAGLtkzHg2SuQ54whv9NFrDP2jiO8xpTU_cCE8hq7woMRC6GRhntq42pnPJA_NR5IjNnc3OdlJoVIBo1QiPN7pQfm6cRFxXkmiusrB_v9XvdQs2VgHWtyo/s1600/313.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf9dPo6297AupPbUONxx72SAGLtkzHg2SuQ54whv9NFrDP2jiO8xpTU_cCE8hq7woMRC6GRhntq42pnPJA_NR5IjNnc3OdlJoVIBo1QiPN7pQfm6cRFxXkmiusrB_v9XvdQs2VgHWtyo/s640/313.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">(More party spam!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7O-GsBTgrvUANYO8UwF_-Nl3TteKQJBp1LY1nlY7sGJunu0Vjes3RL3lI9YxIiOk8eq7SDTbTddy65LswavASCd6UxhqpgtKioL80KcoOXYgAHeCZOHiPxlD_2V8SBjndqoTif-XJ7E/s1600/313.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7O-GsBTgrvUANYO8UwF_-Nl3TteKQJBp1LY1nlY7sGJunu0Vjes3RL3lI9YxIiOk8eq7SDTbTddy65LswavASCd6UxhqpgtKioL80KcoOXYgAHeCZOHiPxlD_2V8SBjndqoTif-XJ7E/s640/313.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7EDSakzkiHSg80cQUJpeaW_uBZoOib8TVdnsRNdRU6tLXWeJOXRLlcbwulbXiSFJFvp2NdfeTSAFzixNZ4XgQK-lEWn6T9gnaTB92_FqwrilnyLpIlDRYFBPJrOF_cVQ9vCiS17ijQ1g/s1600/313.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7EDSakzkiHSg80cQUJpeaW_uBZoOib8TVdnsRNdRU6tLXWeJOXRLlcbwulbXiSFJFvp2NdfeTSAFzixNZ4XgQK-lEWn6T9gnaTB92_FqwrilnyLpIlDRYFBPJrOF_cVQ9vCiS17ijQ1g/s640/313.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIUGm3JCYJOTtvmUupgPdQNYXVnaH4wA_3ETKE4JLZcrV31H9kRxNr1_L29INIyu5bGLtCkaijz8ePxarML1Y8nSkpginHDuPisoAsZTYpw-Xl7FDDO3btf60w2LeOy-zr6rFAK5dM5E/s1600/313.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIUGm3JCYJOTtvmUupgPdQNYXVnaH4wA_3ETKE4JLZcrV31H9kRxNr1_L29INIyu5bGLtCkaijz8ePxarML1Y8nSkpginHDuPisoAsZTYpw-Xl7FDDO3btf60w2LeOy-zr6rFAK5dM5E/s640/313.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank goodness <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that’s </i>over,” Lyra sighed tiredly when
it was just her and Blaise again. She loved her family, but they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tiring</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You can say that again,” Blaise growled irritably. He was in a foul
mood, but Lyra couldn’t figure out if it was because he had to spend so much
time with her family, or because he was tired. He’d been the one to take care
of Mireille whenever her crying woke them at night, so he’d been running on
less sleep than she had. He was always more snappy and irritable when he was
tired.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpVEIrTMpiVfjP1oEPuSeD_MZBjTp_9PPg77sQMYzN9PiFNQbvSHWdPMGquf6CN4VZi4KnWbL3U3TKARJ9TJenMGA8oIxUfZe9HcTOu7Pia3UQEZ_U0VZW9vFEEqkdbDLgVPlrJsPvjQ/s1600/313.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTpVEIrTMpiVfjP1oEPuSeD_MZBjTp_9PPg77sQMYzN9PiFNQbvSHWdPMGquf6CN4VZi4KnWbL3U3TKARJ9TJenMGA8oIxUfZe9HcTOu7Pia3UQEZ_U0VZW9vFEEqkdbDLgVPlrJsPvjQ/s640/313.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He leaned back and closed his eyes, and Lyra had her answer. He was
tired. It relieved Lyra, a little, that he didn’t seem to mind meeting her
family. She hadn’t even realised how much she wanted him to like her family
until they met. Just when had his approval become so important to her?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I like your brother,” he murmured tiredly, oblivious to her thoughts
but still unintentionally answering them. It still amazed her that they could
be so attuned to each other. “Seems like a decent guy. Not sure about your
sister. And your mom wants me to make an honest woman out of you.” He shifted
to a more comfortable position and looked at her to watch her reaction, and
even though he was trying to hide it, she could clearly read the amusement on
his face.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeten_S8YS0vbJD5SgX7-yEP1gbCEkEGzOFj73o9tXP4zQ0i8GNIVncfjENEIzHvqgxeBh1-q1sYMEMuFrHsQMI6SYOZ9hlR1Pysgje0MdpKvrztkD54-xp-8Yb6gWumRuJMmcJhAXRw/s1600/313.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeten_S8YS0vbJD5SgX7-yEP1gbCEkEGzOFj73o9tXP4zQ0i8GNIVncfjENEIzHvqgxeBh1-q1sYMEMuFrHsQMI6SYOZ9hlR1Pysgje0MdpKvrztkD54-xp-8Yb6gWumRuJMmcJhAXRw/s640/313.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra groaned and buried her face in her hands.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Why does she always have to meddle?” she muttered impatiently. “I don’t
care if I’m an honest woman of not. I’m happy living in sin with you for the
rest of my life.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Are you sure?” he asked, and Lyra looked at him, surprised by the
response. His eyes were held that same disinterested look as always, but there
was something else in them that threw her for a loop. It was almost the same
look she occasionally caught him giving the kids. “What if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>want you to be an honest woman?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOagac5m4RIrRZ75bDIRGA1wssEK0g_7SaEphHhcBZAXm79HBzjabW2BI0T1EyOIVrHSVKY-Y5AWFfhWGTZWOrVcyy6zZ5VtMXBEUH_LLI7U-RDz4qggaVJY1pryQ13dnrJCPOmO_NAxw/s1600/313.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOagac5m4RIrRZ75bDIRGA1wssEK0g_7SaEphHhcBZAXm79HBzjabW2BI0T1EyOIVrHSVKY-Y5AWFfhWGTZWOrVcyy6zZ5VtMXBEUH_LLI7U-RDz4qggaVJY1pryQ13dnrJCPOmO_NAxw/s640/313.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Oh Keeper. Was he proposing to her? Was that what this was about? It
couldn’t be. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>he didn’t care
if they were married or not.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The corners of his mouth twitched.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ass. </i>He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">teasing </i>her!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She climbed onto his lap, pinning him to the couch. Two could play that
game. His mouth pulled into that half-smirk, half-smile of his as he realised
his play was discovered, and his hand went to rest on her waist.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmnIuh-L6VFhc5WNhL5ELP7qEOUUqUTFuEgl6Ai50uxIivItWyzvj99jJB6jtvXkeTRos3F3V42kfwD37bsQPwYaTc_Af60zs5jSUSDuXUevs9UGPRK3Nhc4S2kt2FFGBOlSKAcVVFII/s1600/313.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmnIuh-L6VFhc5WNhL5ELP7qEOUUqUTFuEgl6Ai50uxIivItWyzvj99jJB6jtvXkeTRos3F3V42kfwD37bsQPwYaTc_Af60zs5jSUSDuXUevs9UGPRK3Nhc4S2kt2FFGBOlSKAcVVFII/s640/313.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In that case,” she declared
challengingly, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make </i>me one.” He
growled at her in response, like she knew he was going to do, and she bent down
to capture his lips with a smile. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There were no further talk of ‘honesty’ or anything it might imply that
night.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYDoVt_qErMqsppGYyHorH0f_RDlZjhx7vjUy-SpC7Ru_RCAY8C02Hg2C8i9vEND_6y1DQao2w4B8KYb1vRmhxM17736qqyFgz-L6ilgnkjHOQIrBerWJRW8EOdcCEc0nokhDTfIx9zc/s1600/313.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYDoVt_qErMqsppGYyHorH0f_RDlZjhx7vjUy-SpC7Ru_RCAY8C02Hg2C8i9vEND_6y1DQao2w4B8KYb1vRmhxM17736qqyFgz-L6ilgnkjHOQIrBerWJRW8EOdcCEc0nokhDTfIx9zc/s640/313.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But as the days went by and they fell back into a routine of domestic
bliss, Lyra was surprised to find she really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>mind the idea of marrying him. She certainly didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need </i>to, and it wasn’t expected of her,
but…but it would be nice. She already knew she was going to spend the rest of
her life with him. A ring would just…formalise it. Allow her to introduce him
to the world as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hers</i>. She kind of
liked that idea. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">When, exactly, had she started associating marriage with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">happiness </i>instead of misery? When had
the idea of getting married become more a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">promise
</i>than a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">prison</i>?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheE8xciH14BZy21OQ4qvnpYYBguOVL3bVRLp_58zd74wkWN62uUGoYRjkRdgpZz5BV7lkdhLwHD2LjpJFAe4aKoM5_zm4B-9qeaMp3xd6lAcTgcf6hAjrBF0su_RHWIj-L0Xl5jPaNJPg/s1600/313.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheE8xciH14BZy21OQ4qvnpYYBguOVL3bVRLp_58zd74wkWN62uUGoYRjkRdgpZz5BV7lkdhLwHD2LjpJFAe4aKoM5_zm4B-9qeaMp3xd6lAcTgcf6hAjrBF0su_RHWIj-L0Xl5jPaNJPg/s640/313.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She didn’t know. But yes, she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely
</i>wouldn’t mind marrying Blaise.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And yet, despite coming to that revelation, nothing happened further.
She had no idea how to tell him she’d meant her answer that night, and he
didn’t bring it up either. They simply continued living as they had been.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Before Lyra noticed, summer had arrived, and Reagan grew into a child,
ready to start school.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidt0Nu3Xkgow6dWnj5_YiHScR6mZCd6TTUUj5KH_GOb4tqPUkyG8gXBco0qD3q2THo3fmjvVvB_31dGfjrCks23EAYJSP51lKfDbF9bnnzXaZCAxV50GzT-KAwh8VUBjuq9c195Lu0Iks/s1600/313.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidt0Nu3Xkgow6dWnj5_YiHScR6mZCd6TTUUj5KH_GOb4tqPUkyG8gXBco0qD3q2THo3fmjvVvB_31dGfjrCks23EAYJSP51lKfDbF9bnnzXaZCAxV50GzT-KAwh8VUBjuq9c195Lu0Iks/s640/313.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a very inquisitive and
curious child, taking delight in even the smallest things. He was enthusiastic
about helping out in the house, and he became a constant companion whenever
Lyra worked in the garden. He loved talking, and he chattered away about
everything and nothing, in a way that reminded Lyra far too much of his mother.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra and Blaise had raised him with the knowledge that they were his
godparents, not his biological parents, and he had finally reached the age
where he wanted to know more about them. It didn’t bother him that he was an orphan,
but he was definitely curious about them, constantly asking for stories and
information about them. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxv-JkF0Lp8LFxh1U07nxGn6sHOK1JfiRtdbcEhkKmHzT-XBJKCfQPP4-JOPUUI5Yxz84UlgBwzXPBCCdSXRGcqHo9_6R6RPZl2qr4cU9LIkE2YciEkgAhCtVgtyWdZXrcZxcYBDqJB4/s1600/313.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxv-JkF0Lp8LFxh1U07nxGn6sHOK1JfiRtdbcEhkKmHzT-XBJKCfQPP4-JOPUUI5Yxz84UlgBwzXPBCCdSXRGcqHo9_6R6RPZl2qr4cU9LIkE2YciEkgAhCtVgtyWdZXrcZxcYBDqJB4/s640/313.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra told him everything she could, but even she knew her knowledge
about Adrian and Sionann was limited. She’d only known them for a short time, while
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise </i>had known them well enough for
them to trust the welfare of their child to him. It became a nightly ritual for
the boy to request a story from Blaise, only to fall asleep half-way through
the story.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra loved watching the two of them. Blaise was an amazing dad. Reagan
might not be theirs, and he didn’t call them Mom and Dad either, but they loved
him like he was theirs. There was no question about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHfhAD6vYlUK_HHPshgUE66PGzYdPl3M9s3dlaaK2biuAznHSLtUg9DaDWwWconnYlEcXWqYOO9_XRdg8-lJO-bGH3b3MP1fsk3DSIs8zEhyphenhyphenRJbTVawNFpGyWO5sK9G7zNeLXj45hauo/s1600/313.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHfhAD6vYlUK_HHPshgUE66PGzYdPl3M9s3dlaaK2biuAznHSLtUg9DaDWwWconnYlEcXWqYOO9_XRdg8-lJO-bGH3b3MP1fsk3DSIs8zEhyphenhyphenRJbTVawNFpGyWO5sK9G7zNeLXj45hauo/s640/313.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise gave the sleeping boy a gentle pat on the back at the same time
Lyra placed the sleeping Mireille back in her crib, and both retreated to the
backyard together. It was a warm summer night, and the crickets and toads were
noisy, forming a familiar ambience in the night. The tree branches around them
creaked, and without a word, they both started to spar, the light from the
almost-Full Moon surrounding them. With Mireille also needing their attention
during the day, they had moved their daily practices to the evening, when both
kids were in bed.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju00IuJHM9LSQL6kvDwAWstc1JUsJ7gyWsfApy1ftWaE36OSmInXM5I3yvksJCUUhvuTnBv1TEavM89gnFlsYqhAPRCvw25f2h-z_tsn2LaJ-AxzoIOUXUa3FWSZSeoo4yAvCqWaXkpvc/s1600/313.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju00IuJHM9LSQL6kvDwAWstc1JUsJ7gyWsfApy1ftWaE36OSmInXM5I3yvksJCUUhvuTnBv1TEavM89gnFlsYqhAPRCvw25f2h-z_tsn2LaJ-AxzoIOUXUa3FWSZSeoo4yAvCqWaXkpvc/s640/313.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">No matter how much time passed, or how many times they did it, Lyra
still found sparring as exhilarating as ever. It was a familiar dance of
offense and defence, of being pushed to her limits. Blaise was no longer that
relentless taskmaster he’d been in the beginning; they were partners now, rather
than student and teacher. When they sparred now, it was no longer so he could
test her. Instead, it was because they both enjoyed the dance.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They’d sparred many times, but she had yet to win victory over him.
She’d gotten better at reading him, and she’d landed quite a lot of hits on
him, but never victory. He was simply too much of a master.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRrZqde7whn6_UtmZXWCt7_hJTmd-hTy5vbGATXK9Z4YyuKX-xGG1xqOGsWToTTAveyI1y3KJv-Hr3kaMzaTxQ4WXAK0MtWseZzxjK1cgYidrQKkrUVIxkfsHHi6h75Rve12mXpRGghE/s1600/313.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRrZqde7whn6_UtmZXWCt7_hJTmd-hTy5vbGATXK9Z4YyuKX-xGG1xqOGsWToTTAveyI1y3KJv-Hr3kaMzaTxQ4WXAK0MtWseZzxjK1cgYidrQKkrUVIxkfsHHi6h75Rve12mXpRGghE/s640/313.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Midway through the spar, a spar she’d been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">leading </i>in, he got <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in her
space</i>, pushing her off-balance, and the only thing she could think of was ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper, </i>if it’s that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damn </i>wall again I’m gonna smack him.’ It
was an old favourite move of his, and it irritated the hell out of her that she
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>couldn’t manage to get a read
on the movement. Time after time, he’d pull it on her and she’d end up against
the wall. Sure, she didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mind </i>what
followed, but it was the principle that mattered. Ending up against the wall
meant she’d lost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again</i>, and that
still heckled at her.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But he didn’t push her against the wall. Instead, he swept her feet out
from underneath her, and before the fear of falling truly set in, he caught her
in his arms, his hands warm and comforting against her back.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKOe_RMTarTb7q_9SbPe5WAoq-gA9mPqQXN2MLg_wBaxAffDrNqrP9AFpeMch-PBo0yyMbvwvVO5vC3kHh6eoX5jNBHvpCh7spOLy-kDNAMXVcHVR6m_lUjnj87toqAG-rKGRAbNM8tk/s1600/313.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKOe_RMTarTb7q_9SbPe5WAoq-gA9mPqQXN2MLg_wBaxAffDrNqrP9AFpeMch-PBo0yyMbvwvVO5vC3kHh6eoX5jNBHvpCh7spOLy-kDNAMXVcHVR6m_lUjnj87toqAG-rKGRAbNM8tk/s640/313.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And then he kissed her.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It wasn’t a demanding one, or even a passionate one. It was a tender
one; one that spoke more of love<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>than
passion. It caught her completely by surprise, and before she could really
respond, it was over, and he helped her back onto her feet.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0X2cJvff4Ryh5-Gyu6VKcOc9svHsLBYTRLYfgvl8gx3r-2G-OPvFwRsXTAAK6yInjQMLyz0R-jTN-OPAt73SAJiSBpxFKSVhq4iDJL82iVKAkBw7Gma-rFQRNhssd2x1Nj81KVsdNAgU/s1600/313.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0X2cJvff4Ryh5-Gyu6VKcOc9svHsLBYTRLYfgvl8gx3r-2G-OPvFwRsXTAAK6yInjQMLyz0R-jTN-OPAt73SAJiSBpxFKSVhq4iDJL82iVKAkBw7Gma-rFQRNhssd2x1Nj81KVsdNAgU/s640/313.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What was that about?” she
laughed at him, nestling her fingers in his hair. He was smiling at her, that
happy full-mouthed one that was so rare.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Just thinking about how far we’ve come,” he confessed, and his eyes
were soft. “Do you remember the first time we met?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She rolled her eyes at the question.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper </i>yes,” she agreed
with a huff. “You were such an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ass</i>,
and all I can remember thinking was how you didn’t even have the decency to
tell me your name. I had to refer to you in my head as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that ass </i>the whole time.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfoEnbs4RWU6cWbXBsMsUr3uYZ-jksM9fu5Wktkd2fI_5sLL85i6ovCE1JntmTmbGDgueHQxNk-cGx0nLV7tAqroMmaN6ZgH47tQAyv6AycM2cyo8f6KIur60b2-EmITqnH8EBtnRSRZY/s1600/313.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfoEnbs4RWU6cWbXBsMsUr3uYZ-jksM9fu5Wktkd2fI_5sLL85i6ovCE1JntmTmbGDgueHQxNk-cGx0nLV7tAqroMmaN6ZgH47tQAyv6AycM2cyo8f6KIur60b2-EmITqnH8EBtnRSRZY/s640/313.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“For a long time, you were only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that idiot </i>to me,” he came clean as well
with a laugh. “And now, here we are.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Here we are,” Lyra echoed softly, caught up in the sentimentality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He leaned his forehead against hers, and for some time, there was only
silence between them as they simply enjoyed the intimacy. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Marry me.” He said those words in a soft murmur, and for a moment Lyra
thought she’d heard wrong, but he was looking at her, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">waiting</i>, and she knew she couldn’t have heard wrong.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GlWEssKOsybKThCh-nbubMLhp8Plev-aazFxDWusWGg_EdJA0Nm_bOsiBpM3bOnCzhX4eHgXkPl0CSWVWuJQdATVi0BV35c8gCHqjuUTB3Pdw0G9vFcjDMYYPEUpGwz-B6ceQ9VHwSw/s1600/313.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GlWEssKOsybKThCh-nbubMLhp8Plev-aazFxDWusWGg_EdJA0Nm_bOsiBpM3bOnCzhX4eHgXkPl0CSWVWuJQdATVi0BV35c8gCHqjuUTB3Pdw0G9vFcjDMYYPEUpGwz-B6ceQ9VHwSw/s640/313.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m serious,” he insisted. “You
make me happier than I’ve ever believed I could be. I know you don’t need a ring
to stay with me, but I want to give you one anyway. I want you to look at that
ring everyday and know that even if I don’t say it often, I really do love
you.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She couldn’t remember the last time she heard those precious words. He
almost never said them, but it didn’t bother her. She didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need </i>to hear those words – she knew him
well enough to read it in all those tiny everyday moments; like the sprinkler
he’d installed in her garden without being asked, and the way he insisted on
taking care of Mireille so she could have a lie in in the morning. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_ODcnvbWFeuRgze1bfxwe060SoICNT4Vs3gPWlf2lc4duKgxe-ILhxeYM3_BYlYMdSc_hpCChPsvZ1o1_a1byPLny0VOIoYHBJ2QWjTQ-X_QxkUNQi5k4okJz30neYvrqUiZr2Gfylk/s1600/313.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_ODcnvbWFeuRgze1bfxwe060SoICNT4Vs3gPWlf2lc4duKgxe-ILhxeYM3_BYlYMdSc_hpCChPsvZ1o1_a1byPLny0VOIoYHBJ2QWjTQ-X_QxkUNQi5k4okJz30neYvrqUiZr2Gfylk/s640/313.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She hadn’t anticipated the request. She hadn’t seen it coming at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all, </i>but she knew exactly what her
answer would be.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t need a ring for that,”
she admitted with a happy smile. “I already know you love me. But if you want
to give me a ring, there’s no bloody way I’m going to say no.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His smile widened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding onto her
like she was the most precious thing in the world.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcxZQ2N7rlBmSBjTr8J8MA_SC-2St_YTaweIGkzweqbvpmBa9E8BwgXcEequEGZPl818oqN3I8wTWPpHDdmglwPVnL0QFXwQOKueYnJPIcbKvVIymkFg31RKqTLqXkgMFbwuTuu3_yKo/s1600/313.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcxZQ2N7rlBmSBjTr8J8MA_SC-2St_YTaweIGkzweqbvpmBa9E8BwgXcEequEGZPl818oqN3I8wTWPpHDdmglwPVnL0QFXwQOKueYnJPIcbKvVIymkFg31RKqTLqXkgMFbwuTuu3_yKo/s640/313.45.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Thank you,” was all he said, and it was all that was needed to make the
night absolutely perfect.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: Just a little slice of life chapter. I played ahead in my game
quite a bit, so I’m trying to catch up to where I am in game. Oh yeah, Mireille
is pronounced Mee-ray, according to the internet. XD She’s the final child for
this generation, and obviously, the heir. :)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise and Lyra…yeah. They weren’t supposed to get married, as it doesn't really fit the way I've written their characters. But they
both rolled wishes to specifically get married to each other, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before </i>Mireille got born, and in my
experience, that’s incredibly rare when the sims <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t </i>have Hopeless Romantic or Family-Orientated as traits. So,
they’re getting married. I couldn’t deny them those wishes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-ZA;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">I’m actually quite surprised by them. They’re both hot-headed, but ever
since they became romantic interests, they've <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never
</i>fought. Their interactions go from flirty to friendly back to flirty and
then they do something else. They’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never
</i>mean to each other. But the moment they talk to anybody else (except Reagan
- he’s immune as well), their mean sides come out again. It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>much fun to follow. <3 </span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-58542172854593086272017-11-22T07:16:00.001+02:002017-11-22T07:16:47.271+02:00Chapter 3.12 - Unwelcome<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">*Warning: As usual, rated for uncensored bad language.*</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sunset Valley still looked exactly
the same as she remembered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The waterfall still drummed into
the lake beside the house, and the house was the same as in her memories. The
trampoline she and her siblings had used as children still stood on the same
place, and her mom’s garden with its garden gnomes still looked the same.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJNUfcYnHvFLZVkPZlcZMwykDlXiO7DSwOrEPvtalAyTeno2-Z-VpNhXwb_1Vj1htH0ixYvOA_oKIRKNqqBMMPyiG5O0L-RuMykyaj0XiStIDWTWdsDb3LBLSi2Bm5x_s5EEB1NI1Cok/s1600/312.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJNUfcYnHvFLZVkPZlcZMwykDlXiO7DSwOrEPvtalAyTeno2-Z-VpNhXwb_1Vj1htH0ixYvOA_oKIRKNqqBMMPyiG5O0L-RuMykyaj0XiStIDWTWdsDb3LBLSi2Bm5x_s5EEB1NI1Cok/s640/312.01.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The lights in the house were
turned on, and they were still as welcoming as always.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Everything were still the same, but
she had changed. Tightly contained inside her, she could feel her magic
burning, and her stomach turned a bit at the feel of the force that she was no
longer accustomed to feeling. There was an incredible <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrongness </i>in the air that she only now could identify as the
Balance that was out of sync.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">This was most definitely not her
home anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She took a moment to study her
childhood home before her feet started moving.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxviRDCGZ-NdsiM9dZwGf6Y8KYjS9gzxL5oO9Tl2p_gqW0mOAX99Jqnz_CYO9JQBPrAEVrOqS6YIvMrWPKi5vQ6oV8JtXGpfog19T5o9XsFUHcG0_nB56IY1a9aVfw6bODWYM4vN1O0I/s1600/312.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxviRDCGZ-NdsiM9dZwGf6Y8KYjS9gzxL5oO9Tl2p_gqW0mOAX99Jqnz_CYO9JQBPrAEVrOqS6YIvMrWPKi5vQ6oV8JtXGpfog19T5o9XsFUHcG0_nB56IY1a9aVfw6bODWYM4vN1O0I/s640/312.02.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Would her family listen to her?
She knew how crazy it sounded. Different dimensions, magical worlds,
supernatural beings…she would sound like someone speaking madness. Would they
even be willing to hear her out? After all, she’d disappeared without warning.
Turning up like this out of the blue…would they even believe it was her?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But there was no evading the task.
Not if she wanted her family to live.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHmCPdnkOMMM0T621_VsU1f5TeaTMKWFfEaHC09GO39VwrM4zk36KhjxXUZNFfCGT7BmtVsbVv9mqOnz3V37UJJOp10ZBANrw-2Z7lWgtoYZ-OB9NpQU2Lb_NqBqEgIdzxvNXyGfLjxw/s1600/312.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHmCPdnkOMMM0T621_VsU1f5TeaTMKWFfEaHC09GO39VwrM4zk36KhjxXUZNFfCGT7BmtVsbVv9mqOnz3V37UJJOp10ZBANrw-2Z7lWgtoYZ-OB9NpQU2Lb_NqBqEgIdzxvNXyGfLjxw/s640/312.03.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They looked just like in her
dream. They were all there, sitting in the living room and talking. She
couldn’t detect any tension. Did Arienne and Renard make up, after all?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She raised her hand to ring the
doorbell, but her hand fell short. She didn’t know how to face them. How could
she possibly explain why she'd disappeared so abruptly? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Inside the house, Renard turned
ever-so-slightly, and Lyra saw the exact moment he noticed her standing there
like a statue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsO_772ELu0NuZyl2s9yATEIH7JyeFooAeBZImlAR79Yrm-kp4-s46mse9w8QciT9OZXLTYgFriE2wxR_GvT8Eb9UQ27P6rC2LVnoz6_7P77zW85Y0emcygYPCsZ1YvFccX8JgkoqOME/s1600/312.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsO_772ELu0NuZyl2s9yATEIH7JyeFooAeBZImlAR79Yrm-kp4-s46mse9w8QciT9OZXLTYgFriE2wxR_GvT8Eb9UQ27P6rC2LVnoz6_7P77zW85Y0emcygYPCsZ1YvFccX8JgkoqOME/s640/312.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His eyes widened, and she saw him
whisper a word. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Impossible</i>. Then he
was out if his chair and he jerked open the door, staring at her with
disbelief. Against her will, tears welled up in her eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper, </i>she’d missed him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Lyra.” His voice was a reverent
whisper, like he couldn’t believe she was really standing there, and he
collapsed against the doorframe as relief sapped him of his strength. Behind
him, the others had all left their chairs and they, too, stared at her with
utter disbelief on their faces.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpu-PH_4cFg9wd08xXjFXC53Tb0b-fZbQ1kJTU7CpoMrb2oobM-evtTL2WY5vkrBhAJI2ZkeBG73Al44FqJBEnMCsvgHU9o1SHm_G7pb06YN5JM4rPVf7jjfH57VlD_H1nEBJNjoEtAQ/s1600/312.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpu-PH_4cFg9wd08xXjFXC53Tb0b-fZbQ1kJTU7CpoMrb2oobM-evtTL2WY5vkrBhAJI2ZkeBG73Al44FqJBEnMCsvgHU9o1SHm_G7pb06YN5JM4rPVf7jjfH57VlD_H1nEBJNjoEtAQ/s640/312.05.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Renard,” she returned, giving him a feeble
smile. As if the word released him from his stupor, Renard finally acted,
throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a close embrace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dammit Lyra, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">where have you been</i>?” he asked her, his voice filled with relief
and desperation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She snorted, suddenly aware again
of just how absurd her story was, even though it was the truth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I don’t think you’d believe me if
I told you,” she admitted quietly before pulling away and smiling
apologetically at him. “May I come in?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFhOGHa2LM9pwTrmKE7DpqErO56rxN0KByRAVUzk-Oy1PLMP817bHISzdcEw5MWumVofTdgSPl4_HkFU3FLPO9pGmrd_epQBjkhfObPPP43ZXU4xCGM2eS6IOtEwMGgFdvPUXJ17einQ/s1600/312.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFhOGHa2LM9pwTrmKE7DpqErO56rxN0KByRAVUzk-Oy1PLMP817bHISzdcEw5MWumVofTdgSPl4_HkFU3FLPO9pGmrd_epQBjkhfObPPP43ZXU4xCGM2eS6IOtEwMGgFdvPUXJ17einQ/s640/312.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The question caused him to huff in
amusement, and he gave her a soft smile before standing aside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“As if you need to ask,” he
scolded her lightly. “This is your home as much as it’s ours.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not anymore</i>, she thought sadly, but how could she possibly explain
that? Instead she merely smiled and entered the house. What followed was a
flurry of hugs and emotions as everyone welcomed her back and rejoiced in their
reunion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfRLaPIpxGesCEujbc-3H9yQOfq3nL50S9l-bMUDQOOFJGB0DJt54i9cL3IStkdz115MfKPjSTrZUtb0zKZx8HIj5c0XII_x2uoqddfdQkQ2aKf9HEcDmyB24XxcjgGxVngVZtrMFme4/s1600/312.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfRLaPIpxGesCEujbc-3H9yQOfq3nL50S9l-bMUDQOOFJGB0DJt54i9cL3IStkdz115MfKPjSTrZUtb0zKZx8HIj5c0XII_x2uoqddfdQkQ2aKf9HEcDmyB24XxcjgGxVngVZtrMFme4/s640/312.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have
</i>you been?” Arienne asked after things had calmed down, and they were all
sitting with a cup of coffee around the dining table. “And why did you go off on
your own without <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at least </i>letting us
know? We couldn’t even contact you – you left your phone behind.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She left more than just her phone
behind, but that wasn’t the point. Lyra played with her mug, wondering where to
begin. How could she even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">begin </i>to
explain the unbelievable account of events that had happened to her?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlVUN-vp0tdjSuSX-keqKvxWyT20SMhclEKprrg0B8IWilJ_3a6eboib3b5ccsEwRUw-G1qe7BTy9ia76EuI-9TbvYdF-4n9Kyx_o-Gkt5EsBo5JVxAsffP4As8MW-XmkErawpX6mYWI/s1600/312.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlVUN-vp0tdjSuSX-keqKvxWyT20SMhclEKprrg0B8IWilJ_3a6eboib3b5ccsEwRUw-G1qe7BTy9ia76EuI-9TbvYdF-4n9Kyx_o-Gkt5EsBo5JVxAsffP4As8MW-XmkErawpX6mYWI/s640/312.08.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” she finally
admitted. “It happened by accident, and by the time we realised…” She trailed
off, remembering the events that had followed. That had been the first time she'd
met Blaise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her family were still waiting for
her to continue, so she took a deep breath and tried again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I heard Charlotte singing,” she
explained, “and when I went to investigate, she had opened a Rift. It pulled us
through, and…”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You jumped worlds,” her mom
completed the sentence for her, to Lyra’s utter surprise. “The way Charlotte’s
brother had.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBf8Ic1ekY6BAyjdlcA4lpkfvLRiAVDz0baxf2h-ynRpWQUxvu2ZbUpJGc-HrvGoA-7qbUUYX5gZEQrray4n1Rhmq_Dk9qffgvBywokaMmDfWNlLCCV5OAGr6bS4UNHXmwomPQPPyIdM/s1600/312.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBf8Ic1ekY6BAyjdlcA4lpkfvLRiAVDz0baxf2h-ynRpWQUxvu2ZbUpJGc-HrvGoA-7qbUUYX5gZEQrray4n1Rhmq_Dk9qffgvBywokaMmDfWNlLCCV5OAGr6bS4UNHXmwomPQPPyIdM/s640/312.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,” Lyra agreed bluntly. “We jumped worlds.
I’ve been living there since then.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was clearly too far-fetched for
Arienne to believe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What </i>are you talking about?” she demanded crossly. “’Jumped
worlds’? ‘Rifts’? You’re talking science-fiction, Lyra. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t want to tell us what happened,
then don’t, but don’t lie to us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>lying,” Lyra retorted, annoyed. “I know it sounds crazy,
believe me, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know</i>, but it is the
truth.” She shook her head, ever aware of the task she had come to complete.
“But that’s not why I’m here. I came to warn you.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFz8jYwSAEt8cBNZp7RNc-x0o_c6r-WJTLcBpdzypHHlJ025SkISBStNO5TzeJwtJVsGOQIT9RwcHUhOIXZRQMVbY3AJrPAvUWCZ0n4QHtGDzsworKNxV85VhZxSqBSXRLqyksVaTKDU/s1600/312.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFz8jYwSAEt8cBNZp7RNc-x0o_c6r-WJTLcBpdzypHHlJ025SkISBStNO5TzeJwtJVsGOQIT9RwcHUhOIXZRQMVbY3AJrPAvUWCZ0n4QHtGDzsworKNxV85VhZxSqBSXRLqyksVaTKDU/s640/312.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">So she told them everything: about
the Balance, the potion, the task the Keeper had given her, and what would
happen if they didn’t agree. It was still not enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Listen to yourself!” Arienne
exploded once Lyra finished her explanation. “Do you really believe all that
crap? You come waltzing in here after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">five
years </i>and expect us to drop everything we have to run off with you to some
kind of weird place because something from a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fairy-tale </i>is going to kill us if we don’t? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get real</i>.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JItHGY9Nxztpy4XXZPh8IYb22dr5tEhu4mm9t-wAs_3soQzaBY_He5YO_4LIj5Y4JY8FmWibzviAIVEBqTeB6o4Wp1CKz9EY7WfhGQmYLMhMgWp14FizCyndZqiCAq75IdNC5n21IlM/s1600/312.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JItHGY9Nxztpy4XXZPh8IYb22dr5tEhu4mm9t-wAs_3soQzaBY_He5YO_4LIj5Y4JY8FmWibzviAIVEBqTeB6o4Wp1CKz9EY7WfhGQmYLMhMgWp14FizCyndZqiCAq75IdNC5n21IlM/s640/312.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper, </i>her sister was stubborn. And yet, she could see Renard
wasn’t convinced either.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is the truth!</i>” Lyra insisted again, and to her surprise, her mom
spoke up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I believe you.” At Arienne’s
disbelieving exclamation, she elaborated. “The Keeper <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>real. I’ve met him before. On…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>night.” She didn’t elaborate on which night she meant, but she
didn’t have to. In this family, there was only one night they ever referred to
as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>night. “He warned me then,
that we’ve been meddling with things beyond our understanding, and that there
was a price to be paid. I’m guessing this is that price.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtfczireC1A9F4RMCDkllIk3N5Ic3Ipy8PRiYQ0WinuTBFT6qUs4n32SOvNLNO40bn3ey3K_p4gtRgX2P9PxLtscCJOUKNOmXR5ch6a1kxu-uHqm9aW41jQl8-RraeqlnjeBq0eqN1Ao/s1600/312.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtfczireC1A9F4RMCDkllIk3N5Ic3Ipy8PRiYQ0WinuTBFT6qUs4n32SOvNLNO40bn3ey3K_p4gtRgX2P9PxLtscCJOUKNOmXR5ch6a1kxu-uHqm9aW41jQl8-RraeqlnjeBq0eqN1Ao/s640/312.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wow, </i>Lyra hadn’t known that. Or had she? She had a clear memory of
the Keeper standing over her mom, warning her, and yet Lyra couldn't remember that ever happening. She must have witnessed it in a dream. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper </i>must have shown her in a dream.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Are you serious, Mom?” Arienne
asked disbelievingly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Dead serious,” Chantia confirmed.
“So I am inclined to listen to Lyra, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">leave</i>.
I don’t believe in coincidences, and for us to receive a warning so soon after
Mia’s entire family line has been wiped out in that horrible fire…it might be
better to give her the benefit of the doubt.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74NYnSpx_wp5pbSp643PMqOJGPQ25FtrQ4uA1jTsfFu9r6rjCfHnmDHNrb74UCOcPT2N714FymB_9gkBINTA1qEKupL1WKMJOEG_5AFJaCC3Az6727ZZuMmUAB8hWayVRla5x5rkZ54w/s1600/312.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74NYnSpx_wp5pbSp643PMqOJGPQ25FtrQ4uA1jTsfFu9r6rjCfHnmDHNrb74UCOcPT2N714FymB_9gkBINTA1qEKupL1WKMJOEG_5AFJaCC3Az6727ZZuMmUAB8hWayVRla5x5rkZ54w/s640/312.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It didn’t take much more than that
to convince Arienne and Renard. Their mom had had a lot more experience with
the unnatural and paranormal through her many years of being a ghost hunter. If
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>agreed with Lyra on something
like that, it meant more than likely it was true.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Ingrid, Renard’s wife, took a lot
more convincing than that, but in the end, she agreed. The safety of her
daughter was more important to her than anything else, and if her husband
believed their child might be in danger in they stayed, then she wasn’t going
to argue. She trusted him more than that.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNUjBB2tB7oLumOf7LurzccpSpgwFThBLE8SB9vuyJ4FUW3fS1i-jWt6WV745joj4TmcmTO-XR3ferBls-hI_0TQQIRRagB6gxeIQgQGiwJhQbUWASd_rVJToffIKLTDv_F3WjtFmbhg/s1600/312.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNUjBB2tB7oLumOf7LurzccpSpgwFThBLE8SB9vuyJ4FUW3fS1i-jWt6WV745joj4TmcmTO-XR3ferBls-hI_0TQQIRRagB6gxeIQgQGiwJhQbUWASd_rVJToffIKLTDv_F3WjtFmbhg/s640/312.14.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Arienne, Lyra discovered with
shock, was no longer married. Despite trying for years, they had simply been
unable to make it work. The last straw had been when they discovered Arienne
was unable to have children, and not long after that, they filed the official
divorce papers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s all ancient history,”
Arienne easily assured Lyra. “It’s been several years, so it doesn’t bother me
anymore. But it did help to remind me just how important family is. Renard…I
was angry with Renard for so long, I never realised he was hurting as much as I
was. But even though I was so horrible to him, he was still there for me
when…things went bad. I guess despite everything that happens or have happened,
we’ll always be family.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0djD94nxXa4rRnW5npEcyq-71wMLkrcaK1DaNlIct3vHsVlVfyfFI63fuQB-mOEhxuln9XiJ-m9ghaINxgvVVxBixywiNTSIIR01oJV2qVFinyfRN6roA8PftCgbHnLASpCMQqXqiN9Q/s1600/312.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0djD94nxXa4rRnW5npEcyq-71wMLkrcaK1DaNlIct3vHsVlVfyfFI63fuQB-mOEhxuln9XiJ-m9ghaINxgvVVxBixywiNTSIIR01oJV2qVFinyfRN6roA8PftCgbHnLASpCMQqXqiN9Q/s640/312.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Knowing they were running out of
time, Arienne and Renard went back to their homes to pack the necessities while
Lyra helped her mother pack. There were a lot of sentimental items and
memorabilia that Chantia was unwilling to leave behind, and remembering how
much she herself had missed her things those first couple of years, Lyra helped
pack the items without complaint. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There were two items she grabbed
for herself, and when she finally held them again, she couldn’t help the tears
from welling up. They were safely packed into the chest her mom claimed once
belonged to her grandmother.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8D4m13xT2FWXGj9T2dlR9mExBDnoia6KK3gz2QW5QfNqd-548gZdX_VYayOduVhi6jnvT_oD6fNy4QlP8GfLhDww6oQ_dS4d-xh2vTWl7duWpbGDHW3Lftm0ua-N8xkW8FKy6D0dWrY/s1600/312.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8D4m13xT2FWXGj9T2dlR9mExBDnoia6KK3gz2QW5QfNqd-548gZdX_VYayOduVhi6jnvT_oD6fNy4QlP8GfLhDww6oQ_dS4d-xh2vTWl7duWpbGDHW3Lftm0ua-N8xkW8FKy6D0dWrY/s640/312.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">One hour later, Lyra followed
Alison’s instructions and attempted to open the Rift. She half-expected it to
fail, but her relief the Rift immediately sprang into existence. Lyra gestured
her family through and with one last look at her childhood home with all its
precious memories, Lyra stepped through. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sunset Valley would not see her
again.</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Welcome back,” Alison greeted
Lyra amicably the moment she stepped out of the Rift. Beside her, Lyra’s family
was standing around, staring at their surroundings with wonder. Little Alexa
had her face buried in Renard’s shoulder, clearly overwhelmed by everything
she’d gone through. “You made good time, child. There’re still several hours
before the Moon sets. I trust you’ve explained everything to your family?”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIg3_5Wr-p1yY-jmWOd9NTq2TvB-QYkZ-NcDNqq4h3oK9rBwY1cCwHyZevXTLmmFEf2FB9h8q7xAwOoWM7ZMabCcQ8PZvr_EzCav4hgyKN3tqoKoW1GbuhgxyF0_XBX7G3GVemmShIVU/s1600/312.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIg3_5Wr-p1yY-jmWOd9NTq2TvB-QYkZ-NcDNqq4h3oK9rBwY1cCwHyZevXTLmmFEf2FB9h8q7xAwOoWM7ZMabCcQ8PZvr_EzCav4hgyKN3tqoKoW1GbuhgxyF0_XBX7G3GVemmShIVU/s640/312.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have,” Lyra confirmed. “Well, everything
that’s important in anyway.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Good,” Alison approved. “In that
case, please show them to the guestrooms so they can get some rest for
whatever’s left of the night. You’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning for
Moonlight Falls. I dislike having a child that young on the island.” She turned
to leave, but Lyra interrupted her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Wait, you don’t need to ‘vet and
test’ them?” Lyra asked suspiciously. She had been forced to stay on the island
for several years before being allowed to leave. Was it simply because they had
a child with them that her family was permitted to leave?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWY9pCuoQtRJO8Tc6ZyAis_aRD-76prfk69eyzgSdGVoqBW4SZ1Ea0A1aGjjDvirBxl7ir2pAXwTJGXSKfjOtCyfaSHbLSssnLxQJ0ddPfZ9ukLOScO7qQMJSgRRg8r86LUejOjJ8rnvo/s1600/312.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWY9pCuoQtRJO8Tc6ZyAis_aRD-76prfk69eyzgSdGVoqBW4SZ1Ea0A1aGjjDvirBxl7ir2pAXwTJGXSKfjOtCyfaSHbLSssnLxQJ0ddPfZ9ukLOScO7qQMJSgRRg8r86LUejOjJ8rnvo/s640/312.18.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of course not,” Alison denied easily. “The
Keeper personally granted them access to this world. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I need to go. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that she swiftly turned around
and left, leaving Lyra to guide her family through the base.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What was that about?” Renard
asked quietly, trying not to wake Alexa who had finally fallen asleep, but his
eyes were worried. Probably because of that remark about Alison not liking
having children on the island.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Howell Island is a bit like…the
gateway to the rest of this world,” Lyra tried to explain. “It’s fiercely
protected, and it can be a bit dangerous, but you’ll be safe here, and we’re
leaving early tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about it.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfsTTfdIzVJy2TdJ0iV-IkGWtbWCSKWAeIZYcPgnbybM17gDiw6SLjqKYR-eOTp7zkd0ScWbVSR0JPiyuW2-HC231UE8O_yiADMqUTL2DBKMpfXZSk_bg652NUYsevKejhTQPFdeR3ug/s1600/312.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfsTTfdIzVJy2TdJ0iV-IkGWtbWCSKWAeIZYcPgnbybM17gDiw6SLjqKYR-eOTp7zkd0ScWbVSR0JPiyuW2-HC231UE8O_yiADMqUTL2DBKMpfXZSk_bg652NUYsevKejhTQPFdeR3ug/s640/312.19.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was funny how much she looked
forward to going home again. She’d only been gone for one night, but she found
herself missing the routine of putting Reagan to bed and spending the rest of
the evening just relaxing with Blaise. Funny how her life had fallen into a
routine, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and she loved it</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">What happened to the girl who had
hated routine with all her being? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t deny that
she was genuinely happy with the way her life had turned out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Renard still looked sceptical, but
to Lyra’s relief, he didn’t push further, accepting her answer at face value.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The next day they took the ferry,
and once again Lyra was forced to complete the tedious journey to Moonlight
Falls.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExI-COsL_tB7-1woloOl57PA5RUHJxRnDEh5oDEz2ns5m8lbj944YRWL0KfFwTkyL0uO7jZ8GRIxh57CvqpdAw6LJ6460hyphenhyphenNK6t_IqLLTPDOG_swz7X-WUD54892l1b7CEaoh69D7DPE/s1600/312.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhExI-COsL_tB7-1woloOl57PA5RUHJxRnDEh5oDEz2ns5m8lbj944YRWL0KfFwTkyL0uO7jZ8GRIxh57CvqpdAw6LJ6460hyphenhyphenNK6t_IqLLTPDOG_swz7X-WUD54892l1b7CEaoh69D7DPE/s640/312.20.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There were a lot more talking than
the previous time she did the journey, and by the time they pulled into the
town, Lyra once again knew everything that had happened in her family’s lives,
and they knew what had happened in hers. To find out that she was living with a
man and raising a child with him, even though it wasn’t their child, was the
most shocking thing that had been revealed. Her family had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clearly </i>not expected that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Evening had once again fallen by
the time they arrived, so Lyra took her family to a hotel and after promising
to return in the morning, she returned home.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JAK2qTNlRgTPoDRvR2fbGWunM9h0CGBH81pDBZRJl1WZmUPyY2gIFmc_tcHTPU7sbsJXADbIO7uk-XV79UwG-qaIx6kr95Wj_IKnsVVAxYknQfRSk7Uso6CQlGalLDmzeB4zldGPetw/s1600/312.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JAK2qTNlRgTPoDRvR2fbGWunM9h0CGBH81pDBZRJl1WZmUPyY2gIFmc_tcHTPU7sbsJXADbIO7uk-XV79UwG-qaIx6kr95Wj_IKnsVVAxYknQfRSk7Uso6CQlGalLDmzeB4zldGPetw/s640/312.21.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’d the Keeper want?” Blaise asked in lieu
of greeting her the moment she entered the house. His bluntness was comfortingly
familiar to Lyra, and with a smile she picked up the toddler demanding for her attention,
happy to be back home. It had been nice to see and catch up with her family,
but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this </i>was home. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This </i>was where she was at her happiest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her family settled quickly and
easily into Moonlight Falls. Renard, Arienne and Ingrid all managed to secure
jobs easily, and although her mom decided not to return to ghost hunting, her
years of experience were invaluable to the scientific community, so she
occasionally helped out at the science centre in return for pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would never again be as rich as they had
been in Sunset Valley, but they would be able to live comfortably. Renard and
Ingrid swiftly made friends with their neighbours, and Arienne even started
dating again.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCu1_zuuQ4VLmDVg1MS61nC-MRESEeortYi8QQE1AJQT58hyAbI-lHY_lziGdBA2KRtAkh-3r9vk6KO3hpcGaAUucvTG3BnrySXKOYPT5bIHUpRnQeEr5Ug9YZzxU8JtiQz1viIM7Lhg/s1600/312.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCu1_zuuQ4VLmDVg1MS61nC-MRESEeortYi8QQE1AJQT58hyAbI-lHY_lziGdBA2KRtAkh-3r9vk6KO3hpcGaAUucvTG3BnrySXKOYPT5bIHUpRnQeEr5Ug9YZzxU8JtiQz1viIM7Lhg/s640/312.22.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They all made sure to stay in
contact and visit each other occasionally, but everyone had their own lives, so
in general, Lyra’s livelihood hadn’t really changed. The only real difference
was that she had her family back, and the precious camera her dad had given her
had gained a place of honour on her bedside table, next to her favourite photo
of her and her dad.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26NIYp04NnYtiMumflsMccU7DkqEWCKSe3wmsqhQ7EEAZkgngj3GXrejcjRgXpa4vDQUc6C25zzRcMYiseOWWLbljdtLgN_Kdlnip0grjtxjuRvi5mdwj6tlssT1AXuQCUhq0KAG4d2w/s1600/312.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26NIYp04NnYtiMumflsMccU7DkqEWCKSe3wmsqhQ7EEAZkgngj3GXrejcjRgXpa4vDQUc6C25zzRcMYiseOWWLbljdtLgN_Kdlnip0grjtxjuRvi5mdwj6tlssT1AXuQCUhq0KAG4d2w/s640/312.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Winter eventually gave way to
spring, and with it came a steady drizzle of rain that swiftly melted the snow.
The thick layer of snow that had persisted through the winter had made sparring
too difficult and dangerous, so with the arrival of spring came the return of
Lyra and Blaise’s sparring sessions. Blaise trained a lot more than Lyra did,
clearly restless and chafing at the fact that he couldn’t truly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fight </i>anymore, so it wasn’t an unusual
sight to see him out in the yard, perfecting his technique as a way to keep
active.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStRpUJzSf0dzfKMB4KAl2Wvis3iv8gKvnXQQ4ipD4Vb0zavvoPlQSD-458_6CfW43IsP6vlY3zhIvJhHqPiviuuunCY7ljWiKSFJ4EfPOLW74j9S8dX9S0RKlzyHrBnVqzO-k5BcHjQg/s1600/312.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStRpUJzSf0dzfKMB4KAl2Wvis3iv8gKvnXQQ4ipD4Vb0zavvoPlQSD-458_6CfW43IsP6vlY3zhIvJhHqPiviuuunCY7ljWiKSFJ4EfPOLW74j9S8dX9S0RKlzyHrBnVqzO-k5BcHjQg/s640/312.24.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra herself picked up jogging as
a hobby, enjoying the more physical way of getting out and around in town, but
one day she just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could not</i> drag
herself out of bed for her daily jogging session.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Keeper</i>, I feel terrible,” she moaned to herself, groaning at the
sunlight streaming through the window. Blaise’s side of the bed was empty, so
there was no one to hear her complaints. She felt like she was being sapped of
all her energy, and her stomach kept churning around with nausea. She wanted
nothing more than to stay in bed, but she had a photoshoot scheduled for the
day, so there was no way she could stay home. They <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed </i>the money.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGVbuYqb-JWsxYoTDSMihtuLCokAbApFJAfSxgZt7WlN1mxQYF_c40IW8ixCFvWUSYVyjgqYKme0CtfixhgrLaiK1lW9wnilrNrwsga05TiaVwjpNT0_TsDU8vGdsA_GmJ16r8tYAFsY/s1600/312.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGVbuYqb-JWsxYoTDSMihtuLCokAbApFJAfSxgZt7WlN1mxQYF_c40IW8ixCFvWUSYVyjgqYKme0CtfixhgrLaiK1lW9wnilrNrwsga05TiaVwjpNT0_TsDU8vGdsA_GmJ16r8tYAFsY/s640/312.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She felt a bit better after a
shower, but half-way through the photoshoot, her stomach started churning
again. It made her cranky and irritable, and her work wasn’t quite the same
quality she normally turned out. She didn’t even make it home before her body
rebelled and she had to empty her stomach of its contents. She felt better
afterwards, so she blamed it on something she ate and vowed to double-check the
ingredients in the fridge when she returned home.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0B0jsNulqPkQ7LXQ4qTvg12eQVAYM7PEwxht-r2JKv4hrmo6sGeL-fRiLGEkmPoSXYkN4LQhdJKLT_5v4U-qjyY8X7dSJSTXdn15iazddu4_pPG0bbE2XLhFJ5P0QygSZ0ZoMC_q8s8/s1600/312.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0B0jsNulqPkQ7LXQ4qTvg12eQVAYM7PEwxht-r2JKv4hrmo6sGeL-fRiLGEkmPoSXYkN4LQhdJKLT_5v4U-qjyY8X7dSJSTXdn15iazddu4_pPG0bbE2XLhFJ5P0QygSZ0ZoMC_q8s8/s640/312.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The next morning, she felt well
enough to go jogging again, but she kept feeling tired and halfway through her
routine she gave it up. To top things off, the nausea of the previous morning
made a return. She could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>figure
it out. Nothing in the fridge was spoiled, and neither Blaise nor Reagan were
sick, so it couldn’t have been something she ate. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could </i>be a stomach bug, but her magic was feeling all wonky, and
she…didn’t…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her thoughts trailed off as she
remembered the last time she heard those words. Hadn’t Sionann used those exact
words to describe how she knew she was…?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcTR6IhsfGmaYlzvIQb25KZs5LKYSaVaAqru6pLnKksptHqZ_EAlYWJEQWqMfXeb3gGQU3-heKf9_pngohbDojp4zq9QlRQV-OcyWPeFvy_xxl2BAuf_LHzKEbLI1uBxl_YGHJAru1uVU/s1600/312.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcTR6IhsfGmaYlzvIQb25KZs5LKYSaVaAqru6pLnKksptHqZ_EAlYWJEQWqMfXeb3gGQU3-heKf9_pngohbDojp4zq9QlRQV-OcyWPeFvy_xxl2BAuf_LHzKEbLI1uBxl_YGHJAru1uVU/s640/312.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">No. Oh <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no</i>. It couldn’t be. No way. She and Blaise were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">careful</i>. They never did anything without
protection. It couldn’t be possible.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But there was that one time the…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Oh Keeper no.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was only one way to know for
sure.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKK1JgDaPlnv5wsiR9DJMxzKdba466PtTwETh6EM6j-dvpuhHEj9EN5zwKYDBNSoKT17-emqXOCrDPsxPAAaRUwMJNLBGk0kokN_WvxbKgey81G9Wq1nId-1S3vX44cOs7iNkfZJOkQCI/s1600/312.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKK1JgDaPlnv5wsiR9DJMxzKdba466PtTwETh6EM6j-dvpuhHEj9EN5zwKYDBNSoKT17-emqXOCrDPsxPAAaRUwMJNLBGk0kokN_WvxbKgey81G9Wq1nId-1S3vX44cOs7iNkfZJOkQCI/s640/312.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t change, don’t change, don’t change,
don’t change,” she repeated over and over as she watched the pregnancy test,
waiting for it to show a result, but her heart sank right to the bottom of her
shoes when that dreaded second line appeared. She took another test to make
sure, but the result stayed the same. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was pregnant. Despite all the promises she
made to herself and all the precautions she took, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she was pregnant</i>. This could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
</i>be happening.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFvrq1OorbYfY6k-DLkDXgjmGPCE_kvFz9tpTEz3RIOKvfduikjcIoN-PrdQxkAAnekc2xGbacJ048n85whOC9TPuak-4Skckv7BEEVLe8s0eSykW6PuzlBNw1XIenxW-4rUAE3965OM/s1600/312.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFvrq1OorbYfY6k-DLkDXgjmGPCE_kvFz9tpTEz3RIOKvfduikjcIoN-PrdQxkAAnekc2xGbacJ048n85whOC9TPuak-4Skckv7BEEVLe8s0eSykW6PuzlBNw1XIenxW-4rUAE3965OM/s640/312.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">What the hell was she going to
do?! She didn’t want to be pregnant. She wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">interested </i>in having kids. Sure, they were already raising a kid
together, and yes, she adored him to bits, but she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did not want to give birth</i>. She was going to become the size of a
whale and pee like a horse and waddle like a duck and…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Why the hell did their
contraception have to fail at such a crucial moment?!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She needed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">out</i>. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not ready </i>to
have that conversation with Blaise.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8l8Qy6BFshVeviRQQrQ23vsDXq27b47bi5LFJzF2qbnBDVMxdTHPfgAqr6qS2ZUM2p1FSN18HEEb9L_oRBYS2be615uRdqLDoIaUq9P6V5kZH5H1ecV0GUoUf8MbXzmpTVsydIRC4Q0/s1600/312.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8l8Qy6BFshVeviRQQrQ23vsDXq27b47bi5LFJzF2qbnBDVMxdTHPfgAqr6qS2ZUM2p1FSN18HEEb9L_oRBYS2be615uRdqLDoIaUq9P6V5kZH5H1ecV0GUoUf8MbXzmpTVsydIRC4Q0/s640/312.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But he was in the living room with
Reagan, being all encouraging and patient and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daddy-like </i>and her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damn </i>hormones
were already cooing over how cute it was. It wasn’t cute. Blaise didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do </i>cute. He was strong and gruff and
blunt and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely not cute</i>. But
try telling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>to her hormones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m going out,” she informed him
irritably before fleeing the house. She did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
</i>want to think about children or Blaise being all dad-like at the moment.
There would be enough time for that later. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Right now, she needed something
strong to drink, and since her preferred beverage was no longer an option,
she’d settle for coffee. Strong, rich, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bitter
as hell </i>coffee.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgg1gfwqJjzRtZU_iv7AF3cP8TUyEV6yDx4Mc7dpnlnCnrqzjokh5mzPwpHc9TNlRPjRauMvKQTZdjiOsXMc0vSTSQKD7av_SIJSN7HGoufDUBunXFnI8o5l_6IGd1ysG7mTe4UzBDyg/s1600/312.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgg1gfwqJjzRtZU_iv7AF3cP8TUyEV6yDx4Mc7dpnlnCnrqzjokh5mzPwpHc9TNlRPjRauMvKQTZdjiOsXMc0vSTSQKD7av_SIJSN7HGoufDUBunXFnI8o5l_6IGd1ysG7mTe4UzBDyg/s640/312.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Half a cup of coffee later, she
was a bit more ready to contemplate her condition, and what it would mean for
the future. It wasn’t going to be that bad. They were already raising a child
together – one more wouldn’t make such a big difference. Never mind the fact
that it was going to destroy her body and mean several months of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell</i>, followed by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>pain and misery, but there was nothing she could do about it.
As much as she didn’t want it to, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it had
happened</i>, so the best she could do was accept it and move on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was going to become a mother.
What an absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">terrifying </i>sentence.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSewguf4YwbDPAp8GE_iGVHrvvLNTKzbfKWovX6nZMwMdjq7J8eN-2p6kOSC-kPfk2HogaWRWQV2p2wwMfVIhoLCESQs5iM06Q3F3cga44m0EVoJWcHZ_Thi8Ai4fIIyHUsKNUUwSlMek/s1600/312.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSewguf4YwbDPAp8GE_iGVHrvvLNTKzbfKWovX6nZMwMdjq7J8eN-2p6kOSC-kPfk2HogaWRWQV2p2wwMfVIhoLCESQs5iM06Q3F3cga44m0EVoJWcHZ_Thi8Ai4fIIyHUsKNUUwSlMek/s640/312.32.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra? Can we talk?” She looked up, and met
her sister’s eyes. Arienne had an absolutely blank expression on her face, but
Lyra knew her well enough to read the shock in her eyes. Without a word she
waved her sister towards the seat and took another long and deep sip of coffee.
Arienne immediately sat down and wrapped her hands around her middle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Tell me your life is going better
than mine currently is,” Lyra asked her sister, moodily staring at her coffee.
“I need good news after the shitty morning I’ve had.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AvOCp7zNhMD8IfLG7K9sqMPVGziaTwWp9dSBedtMaPRu1EAJL0uk7g00N9TP9Lica6gcYAoTzMfXMDH12g5AFgYNV-XiJcHq4y2SAWIFVPW6KoVHgezjQConcD8lQ799IE7hJidx_Jg/s1600/312.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AvOCp7zNhMD8IfLG7K9sqMPVGziaTwWp9dSBedtMaPRu1EAJL0uk7g00N9TP9Lica6gcYAoTzMfXMDH12g5AFgYNV-XiJcHq4y2SAWIFVPW6KoVHgezjQConcD8lQ799IE7hJidx_Jg/s640/312.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Arienne pursed her lips, as if
she, too, would like good news.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I wish I could, but,” she exhaled
nervously, “I’m having a bit of an issue that I don’t really know how to
solve.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Welcome to the club,” Lyra
muttered into her coffee, but she gestured at Arienne to continue. Arienne took
a deep breath and said the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">last </i>words
Lyra had expected to hear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m pregnant.” Also the last ones
Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to hear.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1nKnXJ7g1961rx9RAS1azooLdHO2lByRm-6QDMTvSPny9ubVcNf3F63clFAn87G8dy2Kvl4IIcWVYL73a7-zjkrTtNiq2cvx3wA3hXY37WMzyYkPSKdCdV0Mg9r1Gq_6oIoymcHnqvU/s1600/312.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1nKnXJ7g1961rx9RAS1azooLdHO2lByRm-6QDMTvSPny9ubVcNf3F63clFAn87G8dy2Kvl4IIcWVYL73a7-zjkrTtNiq2cvx3wA3hXY37WMzyYkPSKdCdV0Mg9r1Gq_6oIoymcHnqvU/s640/312.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do,”
Arienne pushed through, “because I’ve been told it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">impossible, </i>but very clearly, something has changed, and I have no
idea how to tell the dad. We’ve only been together three months.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">With a gesture at Arienne to wait
for her, Lyra stood up without a word and walked over to the counter where she
bought both of them big slices of dessert. They were going to need lots and
lots of sugar to get through this.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Eat up,” Lyra ordered her sister
and placed the plate down in front of her before returning to her own seat.
“Here’s to our lives being absolutely fucked up by babies.” She took a bite of
her chocolate brownie and it was the most marvellous thing she had tasted in
ages.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwoFPRqEwSRvocGLYO33EXRzQIRuvYZLsRNeKIisoeNt0sv0Zt9o5zve5pOU243UA0ZpEcYUrqVGWdty5yduyCOwDmZMh9_MgOe3-EKvr6c3sXqQNUvkR-hcM0GCmSxA8ekLi86KnviE/s1600/312.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwoFPRqEwSRvocGLYO33EXRzQIRuvYZLsRNeKIisoeNt0sv0Zt9o5zve5pOU243UA0ZpEcYUrqVGWdty5yduyCOwDmZMh9_MgOe3-EKvr6c3sXqQNUvkR-hcM0GCmSxA8ekLi86KnviE/s640/312.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Wait, our lives?” Arienne asked in confusion
before her eyes widened as she understood Lyra’s meaning. “You mean…?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yep,” Lyra confirmed with a grin
that was more grimace than smile. “We’re in the same boat. Admittedly, I’ve
been with the dad for over three <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i>,
not three <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">months</i>, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">details</i>. Neither of us want to be
pregnant right now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Arienne burst out laughing, and
Lyra replied with an answering grin. The situation definitely wasn’t ideal, but
it was a relief to know someone shared her feelings. Granted, she knew Arienne
actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to be a mother, just
not yet, but it was still a relief being able to vent.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDOM9EGy_hbSSoKqccJwNxccJPl05_mKtZ-g0y5kURNMKGolNpMDOUA0PHHFvDk8czUKUuSGLAq3nTgsjDd7R6C0YmhIkX3NsCWFBoxtdiJHVMngcugEHmpqs_7RCqiKvLokMEPj6N2w/s1600/312.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDOM9EGy_hbSSoKqccJwNxccJPl05_mKtZ-g0y5kURNMKGolNpMDOUA0PHHFvDk8czUKUuSGLAq3nTgsjDd7R6C0YmhIkX3NsCWFBoxtdiJHVMngcugEHmpqs_7RCqiKvLokMEPj6N2w/s640/312.36.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Several hours later, she was
finally ready to inform Blaise about his impending status of fatherhood. She
found him in the room he had set up as his working space, tinkering away on
some of the hardware of the machine he used for the majority of his research.
She had no idea what the machine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>,
only that it had cost them a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell </i>of
a lot of money, but that wasn’t why she was there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We need to talk,” she informed
him, watching him changing the wiring on the machine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Then talk,” he ordered her, not
looking up from his work. Lyra suppressed the tinge of irritation and tried
again.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3Yjsi1IEImnM6tcLQozYinb5k-1vr2R-7NIEKrPVM3g6Gkc2gkoMfYoZGoNSjLCNzI7mRYjbaa1oxxsFO4_8Q8N-V4xU6oBQdRMF-iZO-a-u3Jhhzk3HwSeSGWt3wIZStUoLgQ4e5aQ/s1600/312.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3Yjsi1IEImnM6tcLQozYinb5k-1vr2R-7NIEKrPVM3g6Gkc2gkoMfYoZGoNSjLCNzI7mRYjbaa1oxxsFO4_8Q8N-V4xU6oBQdRMF-iZO-a-u3Jhhzk3HwSeSGWt3wIZStUoLgQ4e5aQ/s640/312.37.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Blaise, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we
need to talk</i>,” she repeated empathetically, “and I’m not going to talk to
you while you’re trying to focus on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
getting shocked</i>. So put down that damn screwdriver, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look </i>at me.” Something in her tone
must’ve gotten through to him, as he sighed irritably and put the screwdriver
down before straightening and turning to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What is it?” he asked with a scowl,
watching her with bored eyes, clearly waiting for her to finish so he could get
back to his work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m pregnant.” She said it like
ripping off a plaster, quickly and bluntly.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMpGUj6-WN0qt4cQngUntUInNhqeY_JU5j1RqoCCJqyrZtFDWHLuuzhOTCTEXp_qKpGsCtTk2OpjSX-CAmYpYXWhJJyyPSd5kPPRFxencdNdH2sq5QCg63QXQTEWOf8dXCF6dsDSGvGI/s1600/312.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMpGUj6-WN0qt4cQngUntUInNhqeY_JU5j1RqoCCJqyrZtFDWHLuuzhOTCTEXp_qKpGsCtTk2OpjSX-CAmYpYXWhJJyyPSd5kPPRFxencdNdH2sq5QCg63QXQTEWOf8dXCF6dsDSGvGI/s640/312.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His eyebrows arched up. Whatever
he had thought she wanted to talk about, it clearly wasn’t that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okay,” he allowed flatly, “that
hadn’t been planned.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No</i>,” she agreed venomously. “It definitely had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>been planned. If it depended on me, it would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>have happened. But it did, so now
we have to bear the consequences.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pb2O33hqPoXQQtJqlVtLKuOl-BU_3DdkDHMdtwnYEhmWljPPIwX5jNdAK94xxAJT1x-jwMym3MMEaAyHGemoTokAcpPjIgU5Hz4ikznrhFBWNtR-18EO46v36Be7hmmBs176nNJDM24/s1600/312.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pb2O33hqPoXQQtJqlVtLKuOl-BU_3DdkDHMdtwnYEhmWljPPIwX5jNdAK94xxAJT1x-jwMym3MMEaAyHGemoTokAcpPjIgU5Hz4ikznrhFBWNtR-18EO46v36Be7hmmBs176nNJDM24/s640/312.39.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right,” he agreed flatly, and she could see
his thoughts turning as he tried to figure out what it would mean for their
future. Their most immediate concern was money. They were already just getting
by with their finances – another child would mean more expenses, and thus more
hours worked, but even then, it might not be enough. Blaise got paid only per
article of finished research, something that at times look a long time to
complete, and Lyra’s job was purely driven by demand. They’d have to cut on
their normal expenses.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpF-nPclG7H_og-woy58XtUmxWz48GW5g3vGMH5CMrBvmF4qTv8Bpkd-BnDwaXUlXFGf3u06xSgBHuLFse1kgLrMUKhr4OTaLgItS_JYnpITGofH4zjKjxwYWW_vLwsmQC_gno4R7ljw/s1600/312.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpF-nPclG7H_og-woy58XtUmxWz48GW5g3vGMH5CMrBvmF4qTv8Bpkd-BnDwaXUlXFGf3u06xSgBHuLFse1kgLrMUKhr4OTaLgItS_JYnpITGofH4zjKjxwYWW_vLwsmQC_gno4R7ljw/s640/312.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise tapped his fingers his arm
as he calculated the effects and the cuts they would have to make, but his
voice was still calm when he spoke again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Right,” he repeated. “We’ll make
it. It’ll be okay. We’ll have to start growing our food, and delve into our
savings, but we’ll be okay. We’ll make it. So, don’t worry about it.” He looked
back at her and his eyes softened when he noticed the worry on her face.
“Seriously, we’ll be fine. Just, take care of yourself, okay? I don’t want what
happened to Sionann to happen to you.”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfOJ-S7mIzj3kfbHLaqpkPHJUaPw_NUr97hadK3wSrcWgxRQ0UOBVkZN4MHxEkQq8uoPvVC6crSR0E-rONVn1lO9ZvyDoMrwcto9OPDPeR542Mnoi0EW-rhZGFJTzLG0AdZaIHFMpYlc/s1600/312.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfOJ-S7mIzj3kfbHLaqpkPHJUaPw_NUr97hadK3wSrcWgxRQ0UOBVkZN4MHxEkQq8uoPvVC6crSR0E-rONVn1lO9ZvyDoMrwcto9OPDPeR542Mnoi0EW-rhZGFJTzLG0AdZaIHFMpYlc/s640/312.41.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her stomach turned at the thought.
Pregnancy was already going to be hard enough without worrying about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I will,” she promised earnestly.
“I’ll do everything possible to make sure it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doesn’t </i>happen. It’ll be okay.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’ll be okay,” he agreed with
her, but he still pulled her into a hug, reminded of the fragility of life. His
arms were warm and safe, and for the first time, Lyra allowed herself to be a
little optimistic over the bundle of cells currently growing in her womb.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It wasn’t ideal, but they would be
okay. They were going to have a child, and that scared the shit out of her, but
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they would be okay</i>.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9P2hnwQ9pFIskYV1oClPoE5dCvyfBhFOdkzQwAJrYy9mT8YGUWERTmhlIJjzgswVkNv7g_76XJCE75aBukp52np9pLA9qRaE8nlmJ3zjTkBQtj_a8Yk3rZyX6IQ31wHLaKLRlyU8XPXA/s1600/312.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9P2hnwQ9pFIskYV1oClPoE5dCvyfBhFOdkzQwAJrYy9mT8YGUWERTmhlIJjzgswVkNv7g_76XJCE75aBukp52np9pLA9qRaE8nlmJ3zjTkBQtj_a8Yk3rZyX6IQ31wHLaKLRlyU8XPXA/s640/312.42.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: So, Renard and Arienne are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">finally </i>also in the town, along with all
my legacy photos and items (and graves, but I’m still trying to figure out how
to fit that into the story) :D. And Lyra. *facepalm* She got pregnant literally
the first time she used Risky. I have my Risky chance set a bit higher (30%),
but normally it still takes a couple of tries before my sims get pregnant. But
I guess Lyra lives to disappoint. XD Anyway, final child for this generation is
on the way!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">If anybody is wondering who
Arienne’s mystery baby daddy is, it’s Cyrus Sixkiller, from Sunny’s legacy. :)
I gave him a different hair and eye colour, but his features are still the
same. Arienne also has some pretty strong features, so I’m quite interested to
see how their child is going to turn out. :D <o:p></o:p></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-79757177763076749142017-11-05T19:12:00.000+02:002017-11-05T19:30:58.359+02:00Chapter 3.11 - White Picket Fence<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><strong>*Warning: Bad uncensored language.*</strong></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> _~...~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span lang="EN-GB">They were leaving the island.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lyra quietly
gazed over the ocean, watching the waves crash against the ferry in an unending
cadence, the view reminding her of the hours and hours she’d spent watching and
surfing the ocean back in Sunset Valley. It was only two and a half years ago,
but it felt like a lifetime. She honestly couldn’t imagine going back and
living there anymore. She still missed her mother and siblings <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so much</i>, but this was her home now.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Or at least, the
town they were going<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>to was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">going</i> to be her home. She was leaving
the island to live with Blaise, and between the two of them, they were going to
have to raise a child. What did she know about raising children?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0-FctknODYfMbBryUx3B2B8tK3DQSHOC7i22C81PW1_Sht1kBceTKMrIVrP_eH-iNsNCYdYFgqGicxQzQK5U9vKhQ0SM9eIDAdjT-79YGRZsLUEGLpdHXbZd2ag0lk2b8EHpKLLHYU0/s1600/311.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0-FctknODYfMbBryUx3B2B8tK3DQSHOC7i22C81PW1_Sht1kBceTKMrIVrP_eH-iNsNCYdYFgqGicxQzQK5U9vKhQ0SM9eIDAdjT-79YGRZsLUEGLpdHXbZd2ag0lk2b8EHpKLLHYU0/s640/311.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Nothing</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, that’s what. She
never wanted to have anything to do with children, but now she was going to
have to take care of one. She wasn’t really sure what to think of that.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When they arrived
at the mainland, the wind was blistery and a sleety rain pelted down on them.
The other travellers on the ferry quickly made themselves scarce, and before
long, only Blaise and Lyra remained, Reagan safely clutched in Lyra’s arms.
Blaise was muttering irritably to himself, but Lyra couldn’t hear his words
through the steady drumming of the rain on the roof.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaLdsiIcgEXkliadqL4ouKnjO-St2to9G0XXZZ9yXNMr9VpRTdqPFGtwuckdKX-rXtBEBUYouOKlyt4VPLJdiAw8Q_Dimzh5HCpqYnn6LHQOhAubC21C6tjymvmOFcLriULa9YglhQzE/s1600/311.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaLdsiIcgEXkliadqL4ouKnjO-St2to9G0XXZZ9yXNMr9VpRTdqPFGtwuckdKX-rXtBEBUYouOKlyt4VPLJdiAw8Q_Dimzh5HCpqYnn6LHQOhAubC21C6tjymvmOFcLriULa9YglhQzE/s640/311.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Reagan stirred,
his brow drawn into a little frown, and Lyra sighed, knowing what was about to
come. Sure enough, the baby started to mewl. She pulled the little boy close to
her chest, comfortingly bouncing him up and down and wondered what the next
step of their journey was going to be. She just wanted it to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over </i>already.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Eight hours of
driving later, they pulled into Moonlight Falls, the town they were supposed to
be living in for the next who-knew-how-long. It was already dark, and the
streets were deserted, the people of the town having already retreated inwards
for the evening. The town was quiet and empty, but the lights shining from the
houses were warm and welcoming, reminding Lyra a little of her childhood home
back in Sunset Valley.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7TRB87GmPf-SgCkxWbUmRwmRbKRCPDRd1f82eudh8X651F2jy-umUQhYRoZuSco-fC2clCGOSKfQsjnYB8pGFecxBnm9u_fvuZbHyUSW5tH3M95_cuI_3lvPtKh6Ij67hM80ENaB7X0/s1600/311.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7TRB87GmPf-SgCkxWbUmRwmRbKRCPDRd1f82eudh8X651F2jy-umUQhYRoZuSco-fC2clCGOSKfQsjnYB8pGFecxBnm9u_fvuZbHyUSW5tH3M95_cuI_3lvPtKh6Ij67hM80ENaB7X0/s640/311.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They finally
arrived at Blaise’s sister’s house, bringing an end to their multi-hour
journey. Blaise’s sister came out personally to greet them, and Lyra was a
little surprised by the warm way the woman greeted Blaise, and the fact that he
actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">returned </i>her hug. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise’s
relationship with his family honestly confused Lyra. He didn’t get along with
his mother, and Lyra had already realised he didn’t have the best relationship
with his father either, and he had never talked about his family before, but he
clearly had a good relationship with his sister. It was quite puzzling.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqCR90aORbjdHldHE_eiv7uvQANGWCW6OpuFY4jG-p_VpOhfAbKYRP7ZDaX2lZivOd1lKVoRQd_yhUHJSGn75okKLWqXJaFw3wRxFH-4bqZsDu0Q9yMxTq7L0pw7u3SuZ4c9N6UJSOYg/s1600/311.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUqCR90aORbjdHldHE_eiv7uvQANGWCW6OpuFY4jG-p_VpOhfAbKYRP7ZDaX2lZivOd1lKVoRQd_yhUHJSGn75okKLWqXJaFw3wRxFH-4bqZsDu0Q9yMxTq7L0pw7u3SuZ4c9N6UJSOYg/s640/311.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s so good to see you again,” the woman
enthused happily. “It’s horrible that it had to be under such circumstances,
but I am glad to see you. It’s been far too long.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Yeah,” Blaise
agreed gruffly, his mouth pulled into that familiar small smile. He pulled back
from the hug and gave a step back, allowing his sister to turn her full
attention to Lyra. “Raelene, Lyra,” Blaise introduced them with a bored tone.
“Lyra, this is my sister, Raelene. She moved here with her husband, Felix,
about five years ago. Their brat of a daughter should be running around here somewhere,
too.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZgYWyb-sHQdHKC34fuHSR_O6Jlr3Kyoxyr11SnvatdSdeUnIFSRYvtLmI0UODlfAoZ5tGkaJCyItWZjOqGQCOw5mVG7xkWsqNuq4ee6y9EWWBr8erHGCMYrKG9qo_dkobZxGJUjxuEc/s1600/311.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZgYWyb-sHQdHKC34fuHSR_O6Jlr3Kyoxyr11SnvatdSdeUnIFSRYvtLmI0UODlfAoZ5tGkaJCyItWZjOqGQCOw5mVG7xkWsqNuq4ee6y9EWWBr8erHGCMYrKG9qo_dkobZxGJUjxuEc/s640/311.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi,” Raelene greeted Lyra friendly, her smile
and handshake warm and welcoming. “Nice to meet you. Please, come in.” She
ushered them inside, chatting happily the whole time, and Lyra couldn’t help
but marvel at both the similarities and the differences between the two
siblings.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Raelene had a
friendly, easy way of talking and she seemed to be able to instantly alter the
flow of a conversation. She carried herself with a light yet firm confidence,
leaving Lyra with no doubts that she too, had once been a fighter, like her
brother. She was clearly the ruler of her household, and much like Lyra’s own
mother had done, she completely dominated her family. She laughed easily and
openly, and before Lyra realised, she too was taking part in the conversation
like she had always belonged. Raelene’s husband, Felix, was an easy-going man
with a great sense of humour, and their four-year-old daughter, Lilianne, was
an adorable bundle of energy who was constantly smiling and somehow, never
failed to get one of those rare little smiles from her uncle.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwX_Ih0qZS_f730Q1b_s1BowSxx4tlggqUwukk71Jn8oSyXkl6BUb5BDe14O66LVoJ8K1wVhwZ36wQkf13amOx__GGHDIURAax7tHAugAtj5G-lYGsVsmlqu76lp8zOgo3IMV2P7OdxSE/s1600/311.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwX_Ih0qZS_f730Q1b_s1BowSxx4tlggqUwukk71Jn8oSyXkl6BUb5BDe14O66LVoJ8K1wVhwZ36wQkf13amOx__GGHDIURAax7tHAugAtj5G-lYGsVsmlqu76lp8zOgo3IMV2P7OdxSE/s640/311.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Once Reagan and
Lilianne had been put to bed, the adults retreated to the living room where
Raelene served them all hot drinks before settling on the couch, snuggling up
to her husband.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“So,” the woman
started, an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face, “what are your
plans? Do you what you’re going to do, or do I need to ask around and see if
somebody would be willing to give you jobs?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise sighed at
the question.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpjO_vQl3QOMtQc4abDMvT8JjNzwoSaiZCVtmbB9H6CIbvki18jfutctghgpFnN7k7P-gt-tzDi7uafrneyh9U5gpRcpcg-m0Es_AlQiqjzB4u-aYgBEGyZbIMHgZLxW5Da4Q7LYGsqw/s1600/311.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpjO_vQl3QOMtQc4abDMvT8JjNzwoSaiZCVtmbB9H6CIbvki18jfutctghgpFnN7k7P-gt-tzDi7uafrneyh9U5gpRcpcg-m0Es_AlQiqjzB4u-aYgBEGyZbIMHgZLxW5Da4Q7LYGsqw/s640/311.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t bother,” he rejected the offer. “I
already have contacts at the Science Lab, and they’re willing to pay me for my
research, so I’m set. Lyra…” He turned to her and quirked an eyebrow,
indicating she should speak for herself. They had talked about it on the ferry,
so Lyra already knew how to answer.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I used to be a photographer,” she admitted.
“A good one, even if I am saying it myself. I was thinking of trying again, of
going freelance and perhaps offering my services at City Hall, or school. I’d
like to try, at least. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll try getting a more conventional
job.” Even as she said it, she desperately hoped she’d be able to return to her
previous job. She’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">die </i>if she had to
follow a standard, 40-hour-a-week job.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlnIl1cD3odURK73flFBF71z_24oGPwHfZn5C4FyYPPZncpOB30lYS9nDHWT0ijYfuiq1jDW-XmjQBf0b5-dgVTpXL5whZ1DL1bIubgiSU7WWLhXgj8MNL0nWxn2jDJAfW08jveZaoYU/s1600/311.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlnIl1cD3odURK73flFBF71z_24oGPwHfZn5C4FyYPPZncpOB30lYS9nDHWT0ijYfuiq1jDW-XmjQBf0b5-dgVTpXL5whZ1DL1bIubgiSU7WWLhXgj8MNL0nWxn2jDJAfW08jveZaoYU/s640/311.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It might work,” Raelene agreed easily. “Do
you have somewhere to stay, or do you want to crash here until you find
someplace? We can lend you some money, if you need any to get settled.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Thanks, but no
thanks,” Blaise immediately refused, his jaw tense at the offer. “We’ll
manage.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Raelene gave a light
shrug, clearly unconcerned by his swift refusal.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkASKtLLWe9qzUPad3yLoa7z1bbcFfHq0Uq7f3aDtCXGDI2XSiy5kYkDuLCTqg9JthcwNjt6Kd22xUffDMleiFIU8eJ1Gw6eOhZPeh2ijquKUj1f75HxMvde1jtBwBNauhlV1KVY3AKE/s1600/311.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHkASKtLLWe9qzUPad3yLoa7z1bbcFfHq0Uq7f3aDtCXGDI2XSiy5kYkDuLCTqg9JthcwNjt6Kd22xUffDMleiFIU8eJ1Gw6eOhZPeh2ijquKUj1f75HxMvde1jtBwBNauhlV1KVY3AKE/s640/311.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Alright, if you say so,” she agreed lightly.
She stood up and walked over to the desk, rummaging through the contents of the
drawer as she looked for something. “If you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are
</i>interested though, there’s a house not far from here that’s currently
available to rent at quite a decent price. The house-market is quite tight at
the moment, so it might be your best shot.” She pulled out a business card from
the drawer and offered it to Blaise, her lips quirking with an amused smile. “I
don’t think the place is quite your style, but it’s cheap and available. You
should check it out. You don’t have to stay there forever.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise took the
business card from her hand. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijE9MFTQzgZlV3vhCjVoWd6udbCexXdopX8-MqJCHRdZT2CXaT-QIEu_YbZ5VlGTWzAGhMgMBBu10yr1L1ly4cObZ41Wf04Fka4jm1iJxHBAC9bxtCSn2waYoR5e3xA-iVbhrLdZiZwhA/s1600/311.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijE9MFTQzgZlV3vhCjVoWd6udbCexXdopX8-MqJCHRdZT2CXaT-QIEu_YbZ5VlGTWzAGhMgMBBu10yr1L1ly4cObZ41Wf04Fka4jm1iJxHBAC9bxtCSn2waYoR5e3xA-iVbhrLdZiZwhA/s640/311.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks Rae,” he offered, already studying the
number on the card. “I’ll check it out.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Anytime,” she
declared with a smile and a wink.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The next day was
a busy one for Lyra and Blaise. Raelene had excused herself, stating she needed
to go to work, but Felix was a stay-at-home dad and he generously offered to
look after Reagan for the day, allowing the two adults to complete all the
small and tedious arrangements involved in moving to a new town without
interruption.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Yd9Jsc8y24v02ryzEjkVo9HpFbG3SVvSsYpUso7E_JDIRv_J89Bvli1E-NZRlI4UD-SJgHWBi4oy7m_0huLxr1f-J1hoY340gat7K8u53nNqUrgcC_VU9tXSQCVzeKtGHcVgorsgKa0/s1600/311.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Yd9Jsc8y24v02ryzEjkVo9HpFbG3SVvSsYpUso7E_JDIRv_J89Bvli1E-NZRlI4UD-SJgHWBi4oy7m_0huLxr1f-J1hoY340gat7K8u53nNqUrgcC_VU9tXSQCVzeKtGHcVgorsgKa0/s640/311.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise checked in
at the science centre, confirming that yes, they were still interested in his
research, and yes, they would still pay him for every article he published,
before taking Lyra to the city hall to apply for her driver’s licence and
register as a freelance photographer. The administration assured her they’d
send any queries on to her, and suggested she offered her services to the
school as well. They had no other photographers registered in the town, so the
school would surely appreciate her services. She still didn’t have a decent
camera, but with enough luck she’d be able to afford one soon. Until then,
she’d have to settle with being paid less for her work.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyVU7ktj7sQL6EkkmS2EMlkard8uM44cxHdbJiHeuOSVoY5tSO1ii1d1DfWznCzAumdeuDL3LTr4lhhAJWToHQvdHYI3FM4upa-44_mRHDzMm6rpVODo1lFFzN2rxjNU_54njBVf364YY/s1600/311.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyVU7ktj7sQL6EkkmS2EMlkard8uM44cxHdbJiHeuOSVoY5tSO1ii1d1DfWznCzAumdeuDL3LTr4lhhAJWToHQvdHYI3FM4upa-44_mRHDzMm6rpVODo1lFFzN2rxjNU_54njBVf364YY/s640/311.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">After completing
all the tedious paperwork and proving her driving skills, Lyra was once again
legally allowed to drive on the road. By that time, it was already time to meet
with the agent of the house Raelene had told them about, so they set off
towards the address the agent had given them.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When they arrived
at the address, Lyra couldn’t help but stare at the house with slight
disbelief. It was a cute little cottage, complete with flower garden and white
picket fence, but it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so not </i>them.
It was the type of house Sionann would’ve loved to live and raise her children
in, but to Lyra, the house was just a little over-the-top.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSWxAlxXnRBikr0IF5FbPSKrz1tdALQnVUg-W5LSrHEh5fL2A_6ah030az4N3epFRalffVdC3TSPQnkbo1muauI-3_RzaSYRmMK26QZP7vdRd4zom0-1LnTxJ2FeUX13Em7EV8AYG8eU/s1600/311.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSWxAlxXnRBikr0IF5FbPSKrz1tdALQnVUg-W5LSrHEh5fL2A_6ah030az4N3epFRalffVdC3TSPQnkbo1muauI-3_RzaSYRmMK26QZP7vdRd4zom0-1LnTxJ2FeUX13Em7EV8AYG8eU/s640/311.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She meant, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">white picket fence</i>. Who still <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>that?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But the house was
cosy, if a little small, and cheap enough to fit their budget. There was a
kitchen and a bathroom, but none of the other rooms were furnished. They’d have
to pay most of their next incoming money to buy furniture, but it was better
than the alternative of freeloading at Raelene’s house, so they agreed to take
the house. They managed to scrounge together enough money to buy a cheap bed
that was surprisingly comfy, and after buying a cheap, DIY crib from the store
and the cheapest bedcovers they could, they all had somewhere to sleep.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSK5id0S1FMvHj0INu4_UxB3X1SWCu7UDbnOb4T1TfxbqM5W9xnH49L34Xdc0CKIs2SGGi_aEcE2ixUqHVwYQtDa9QUCxQiBcYhyWNREXYBqhyphenhyphencuDt9YdR7JqGHhK5Lao4brakcBdlqU/s1600/311.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSK5id0S1FMvHj0INu4_UxB3X1SWCu7UDbnOb4T1TfxbqM5W9xnH49L34Xdc0CKIs2SGGi_aEcE2ixUqHVwYQtDa9QUCxQiBcYhyWNREXYBqhyphenhyphencuDt9YdR7JqGHhK5Lao4brakcBdlqU/s640/311.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They moved in
that very same day.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was so damn
bizarre. They didn’t even have chairs, and they were forced to eat dinner out
of take-out containers while seated on the floor. They didn’t even have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lights</i>. They had to eat by candle-light.
It would’ve been quite romantic even. All they needed was a picnic blanket and
maybe some nectar, and they’d have the perfect setup for a date.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCw-k1m5b520G-dWRLcK9PBItxswWT-RRRPfkNN-kmE3h43JjmHmuVseTxRo-0YtteDaHJlbcbiaZ270TbzUR-KRpiX-QOto7Knye3Jvi5cVTwn4obxYI54b3rRE5LeT3_c2LF5XXFys/s1600/311.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCw-k1m5b520G-dWRLcK9PBItxswWT-RRRPfkNN-kmE3h43JjmHmuVseTxRo-0YtteDaHJlbcbiaZ270TbzUR-KRpiX-QOto7Knye3Jvi5cVTwn4obxYI54b3rRE5LeT3_c2LF5XXFys/s640/311.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But there was no nectar
and no picnic blanket, and they were both too tired by the events of the last
couple of days to even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think </i>about
romance.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“So, what happens
now?” Lyra asked after dinner, watching the fire of the candle flicker in the
hazy light and taking comfort from Blaise’s presence and proximity.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise tiredly leaned
back against the wall, the candlelight dancing over the features of his face.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejOZHnWQCQR_wCUjlBEVMywi9SvvjU8YxZsp1BSUkeJ3MUBUlL-4b3x4VZhmA8rMJ8fQrnqpY39bOW4Lvy3u7OT1EmyLmJSRabed-076bLxElTBb_XbZu27UpxWniGYlaNyXU1TdXc2I/s1600/311.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejOZHnWQCQR_wCUjlBEVMywi9SvvjU8YxZsp1BSUkeJ3MUBUlL-4b3x4VZhmA8rMJ8fQrnqpY39bOW4Lvy3u7OT1EmyLmJSRabed-076bLxElTBb_XbZu27UpxWniGYlaNyXU1TdXc2I/s640/311.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now?” he repeated, his eyes far and distant.
“Now we get some sleep, I suppose. And after that, we go on with our lives.
That’s all there is to it.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He sounded so tired,
so unlike himself, that Lyra couldn’t stop herself. She pushed him back against
the floor and gave him a long, lingering kiss, wordlessly reminding him that he
was not alone, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>was still
there. He responded in kind, and it was nothing like their previous wild and
passionate kisses had been. It meant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i>,
and it was so much more precious for it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1u9SDmmK5zL1UZhmfEyjN6Bg5w-g2Ngr9ickOr4GKGJw_XSMp7_OsWmW18_x-styi-1T-sdHtIWf0n-_mujRimojkKpM1LCKwsnnOdEZdLDrEJ48jYQfEKiyQJjAqM4xscDMSascqN6o/s1600/311.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1u9SDmmK5zL1UZhmfEyjN6Bg5w-g2Ngr9ickOr4GKGJw_XSMp7_OsWmW18_x-styi-1T-sdHtIWf0n-_mujRimojkKpM1LCKwsnnOdEZdLDrEJ48jYQfEKiyQJjAqM4xscDMSascqN6o/s640/311.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">That night, she
gave herself to him completely. </span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Their days fell
into routine; not quite the 40-hour-a-week routine Lyra had always been
dreading, but a routine nonetheless. The first couple of weeks in their new
home was incredibly difficult, both from a financial view and from an emotional
one. It was difficult to adjust to the absence of Sionann and Adrian, but as
time went by and other problems started to occupy their time, it got easier to
forget.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Money was
incredibly scarce, so the first several weeks were spent working, trying to buy
enough furniture for the house, but it was difficult. The science centre would
only pay Blaise for published articles, which took a long time to complete, and
there wasn’t a big enough demand for a photographer for Lyra to make more than
a modest amount of money. To top it off, most of the money Lyra received for
her work went to developing the photos.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEzW4mGDLuabXyWOLVGg8QVOuPUFqHzZ1LNns3CuHVPLLo5cu5YIzEcY05ED0OlJQ72aVHu9WEz3TZbLiXgYqPSZnhJPCVtCdz_ZD4UfrVMdku3I2JBkKi6matdhPFe5UPqLap3ZHufM/s1600/311.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEzW4mGDLuabXyWOLVGg8QVOuPUFqHzZ1LNns3CuHVPLLo5cu5YIzEcY05ED0OlJQ72aVHu9WEz3TZbLiXgYqPSZnhJPCVtCdz_ZD4UfrVMdku3I2JBkKi6matdhPFe5UPqLap3ZHufM/s640/311.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was a
difficult time, but both of them were too stubborn to give up, and they tried
their best to make it work.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Raelene and Felix
were a big help during those first couple of weeks. They invited the two of
them over for dinner almost every day, which helped to keep the grocery bill
low, and Felix was always more than willing to look over Reagan for a couple of
hours whenever Lyra and Blaise both needed to be out of the house at the same
time. It was also through Raelene that they managed to get out and meet some of
the other people living in the town.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJTgbm-ATRHxgTXBsj8F2SgNjl5ULqh8VK2lAlTqU2z_70LTKOn5sJ5w2fX9GqLqjBW9KITvror4gjYpn4rgHJQ8j9G5Ai9mVrE7QLMWvQ2rAtXfY6uMDScGlXEqd5aSD5jWON5NiYuo/s1600/311.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJTgbm-ATRHxgTXBsj8F2SgNjl5ULqh8VK2lAlTqU2z_70LTKOn5sJ5w2fX9GqLqjBW9KITvror4gjYpn4rgHJQ8j9G5Ai9mVrE7QLMWvQ2rAtXfY6uMDScGlXEqd5aSD5jWON5NiYuo/s640/311.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Suddenly released
from the restrictions that forbade her to leave the house, Lyra tried to spend
time out and about in the town as often as possible. Moonlight Falls was unlike
either of the two places she’d lived in so far, but she had to admit, she
rather liked the town. The temperature was much colder than Sunset Valley had
been, but the constant snowfall reminded Lyra of all those cosy evenings spent
with her family in their home by the lake, surrounded protectively by the
mountains.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Here, the entire
town was surrounded by mountains. It was nostalgic, and something Lyra would
always associate with safety. But it did make her miss her family so much more.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUsZ5JPsMWSiYpi7LVajDiqKiOJ80eS8rgRgCNnvTv9XjSmm0G6rEydb44TcyNR-jErjKqz4-YTtadbzklH4jJvgHUJtkac1rjjeN9zlqgwrWMeuiN8AqYscKpntA79VQoym0kHclOwsE/s1600/311.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUsZ5JPsMWSiYpi7LVajDiqKiOJ80eS8rgRgCNnvTv9XjSmm0G6rEydb44TcyNR-jErjKqz4-YTtadbzklH4jJvgHUJtkac1rjjeN9zlqgwrWMeuiN8AqYscKpntA79VQoym0kHclOwsE/s640/311.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She found herself
thinking about them more and more lately. Have Arienne and Renard made up after
she disappeared, or were they still feuding? Was her mother still healthy? She
must’ve gotten quite old by now. Did Renard ever become a dad, like they’d
discussed when they met at their dad’s grave during the anniversary? She didn’t
know. She didn’t know if she’d ever know those answers.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It was during one
of their shut-in evenings, snowed in by the latest blizzard, when Lyra finally
asked Blaise about his family.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCEMzkzVJylb6owP0WVVs6e-bgNTul9PvcaCAxS0_N2V48i4tVGSRfIq7mkeeQDVgDRJnETHGlNtb5Bm3NIGKl55FIik21Bv7ujrHeQHMmgHd6xNbiA-dSgpHGy9GcJ2TT-GMQukDjzA/s1600/311.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCEMzkzVJylb6owP0WVVs6e-bgNTul9PvcaCAxS0_N2V48i4tVGSRfIq7mkeeQDVgDRJnETHGlNtb5Bm3NIGKl55FIik21Bv7ujrHeQHMmgHd6xNbiA-dSgpHGy9GcJ2TT-GMQukDjzA/s640/311.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t really get along with your parents,
do you?” she asked curiously. As expected, he immediately scowled at the
mention of his parents.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“No,” he answered
bluntly. “They’re damn hypocrites. Always forming rules and regulations and
telling others what to do, but then it come to them they never obey the rules
themselves. They claim to know what’s best for everyone, but refuse to do those
same things. I’m sick and tired of their two-faced ways.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I take it you’re
referring to something specific?” Lyra asked, lifting an eyebrow at his harsh
tone.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd56b9_HwO5-ce8uIx1keELR3owMDldTkh4vxNBfK6APHR4h1IuUpVQKygOtkt-VfmJ3ctS3LvWbdLJuLJ1eurtkJC8iREgsFxAmifOkA1VLmbVDBelB8neEsN_tLsVFBecYRMyqYSgK8/s1600/311.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd56b9_HwO5-ce8uIx1keELR3owMDldTkh4vxNBfK6APHR4h1IuUpVQKygOtkt-VfmJ3ctS3LvWbdLJuLJ1eurtkJC8iREgsFxAmifOkA1VLmbVDBelB8neEsN_tLsVFBecYRMyqYSgK8/s640/311.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pretty much,” he replied glumly, staring
sullenly out of the window. “My sister and I…for all that Alison’s so adamant
people should leave the island when a child is involved, she certainly never
did it herself. Raelene and I both grew up on the Island. It wouldn’t even have
been so bad if they were more involved, but they weren’t. We barely ever saw
them, except when it was time for our lessons. Then they would push us until we
gave nothing but perfection.” He gave a shrug. “Which isn’t that bad, I
suppose. It helped a lot during the Hunt. But I can’t stand hypocrites, and
Alison is the very definition of one.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He shook his head
in disgust.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigECJgk67mc8FK5ldrPX4RzRGNaMAxpRlmMolnROsI9aq5QG5KqSADYw1oAQ6Yl5ADF5MENOlIjSFheHDKOzw5keb97dC2UO8GPUnbU5QLC6d7OhXlUsmDuXjSdyjsrmT6osuEFmlif1s/s1600/311.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigECJgk67mc8FK5ldrPX4RzRGNaMAxpRlmMolnROsI9aq5QG5KqSADYw1oAQ6Yl5ADF5MENOlIjSFheHDKOzw5keb97dC2UO8GPUnbU5QLC6d7OhXlUsmDuXjSdyjsrmT6osuEFmlif1s/s640/311.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But enough of that,” he declared, changing
the subject. “What about your parents? I’ve never heard you talk about your
family either.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She hummed
noncommittally. “Well, it’s not like it matters anymore – I doubt I’m going to
see them again. But my family…I guess it would be easiest to say they’re a
bit... broken.” So she told him the whole sordid affair – how close they once
were, the whole story behind her dad’s death and the way her sister tore the
family apart.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8GXrAuuC-rXJCqTHs8yMtavQ2vPp6RQz1NzyPdXvhQ7WHnjNza3HOrY974QP-U1VOyePgCRnkC5PpE60SN6gLAwzb4tFIc8Dfl9JQ1Bi72stgiS9BleCDkAC08MXDoF6d71GJJe9Aqs/s1600/311.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8GXrAuuC-rXJCqTHs8yMtavQ2vPp6RQz1NzyPdXvhQ7WHnjNza3HOrY974QP-U1VOyePgCRnkC5PpE60SN6gLAwzb4tFIc8Dfl9JQ1Bi72stgiS9BleCDkAC08MXDoF6d71GJJe9Aqs/s640/311.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He listened
patiently to the whole story, only speaking to clarify something. It was
incredibly liberating to talk about it, and for the first time Lyra realised
just how heavy her baggage had been. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">They talked until
late at night, sharing tales of their childhood, and when Lyra went to sleep
that night, she felt so much closer to him.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywdUnyTM2xT92dCb_gEtunZzrgI7zh_YqSypmf_ls2ey3fp3gL3ATztUtN-TNC3vlZ4QSrUzuw1rmFfGM4yCYSuTLpAKT6TEu6E2AIEvgcZYZDiQCE-Rwl69xsLfm3rk0Cq8ML2I8hHU/s1600/311.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywdUnyTM2xT92dCb_gEtunZzrgI7zh_YqSypmf_ls2ey3fp3gL3ATztUtN-TNC3vlZ4QSrUzuw1rmFfGM4yCYSuTLpAKT6TEu6E2AIEvgcZYZDiQCE-Rwl69xsLfm3rk0Cq8ML2I8hHU/s640/311.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Time continued
passing, Reagan continued growing, and before they realised, the little boy
started crawling. He was an adorable toddler who looked so much like his
parents. He’d inherited his father’s hair colour and his mother’s eye colour,
but there was no sign of wings. He had clearly not inherited his mother’s
magic.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He was a very
curious boy and very easy to entertain, as he seemed to be delighted by
absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>. Lyra wasn’t
sure if maybe that was a trait of all toddlers, but whenever his face lit up in
delight, she couldn’t help but realise just how damn much she loved that little
boy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She’d never
thought she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>feel that way over
a child.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo1dyFTPIlu2J-ZMkmDCnfFZfaE7_WENfsh-KHj5YBHTihW40gYWvwVdoUa_hojaKdyoLt2A8Mw-2aT-2e1AP5Cq0PsV68RN0pdlWG1uLkAt54iJG9txVXODrHZwB3S_1CyhW0me_Vsg/s1600/311.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo1dyFTPIlu2J-ZMkmDCnfFZfaE7_WENfsh-KHj5YBHTihW40gYWvwVdoUa_hojaKdyoLt2A8Mw-2aT-2e1AP5Cq0PsV68RN0pdlWG1uLkAt54iJG9txVXODrHZwB3S_1CyhW0me_Vsg/s640/311.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Now that Reagan
was mobile, Lyra and Blaise’s time got even more limited, as the boy was always
either looking for attention or getting into trouble. To Lyra’s amusement and
Blaise’s exasperation, Reagan’s most common partner in crime was Blaise’s
dragon, Ignis. Ignis had formed a connection of some kind to the boy, as he was
always somewhere close by, following the boy or joining him in causing trouble.
It drove Blaise <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nuts</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“He’s a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dragon</i>, not a damn toy or pet,” Blaise
muttered irritably after he found the two of them curled up together, exhausted
after hours of playing and horsing around. “He’s going to forget he’s a dragon
if this continues.” </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEll_PTtSMQoyOpCAkQ4NF8jvuho39lJiaxpVqC-L49wUVQDFzYiZc9Vx9xCP9uWZW9nwkCjV7aCretxW5hmNt4gO2AbcWZLetl5PXLDZv9V0LBDyrauGLDz_dIWASh1aQPX0ow_tiWfU/s1600/311.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEll_PTtSMQoyOpCAkQ4NF8jvuho39lJiaxpVqC-L49wUVQDFzYiZc9Vx9xCP9uWZW9nwkCjV7aCretxW5hmNt4gO2AbcWZLetl5PXLDZv9V0LBDyrauGLDz_dIWASh1aQPX0ow_tiWfU/s640/311.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Even as he
complained, he gently picked up the sleeping boy and carried him to his crib.
Reagan didn’t stir even once during the process. Blaise was remarkably good at
being a dad to Reagan. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">It made Lyra
wonder, sometimes, what he would be like with his own children. It made her
wonder what it would be like to be the mother of his children. But she wasn’t
going to mention it, as she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did not want
children</i>, and even if she did, she didn’t know if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he </i>wanted any. She wasn’t going to ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But it did make
her realise that once again, there was a status quo in her relationship that at
some stage or another, was going to be challenged. There were no way things
would be able to stay the same.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGmWxj45XjiLwBLQhE17CanjQT6Qla1kd8a5xIpkwXJlEJmjC4cvU4L3VS7DxM1stQBdjRmg8bVzAPD67kM7KHw1D4kNed5cV2zX3GpKRMjPh2ojlgFMfzf-QwOanNYah_NW6AWAy3kM/s1600/311.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGmWxj45XjiLwBLQhE17CanjQT6Qla1kd8a5xIpkwXJlEJmjC4cvU4L3VS7DxM1stQBdjRmg8bVzAPD67kM7KHw1D4kNed5cV2zX3GpKRMjPh2ojlgFMfzf-QwOanNYah_NW6AWAy3kM/s640/311.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where are we going?” she asked one night while
they were lying in bed. “I mean…this thing, relationship, whatever you want to
call it, that’s between us…where is it going?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He propped himself
onto his elbows, staring at her with his brows lowered over his eyes in a
puzzled frown.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“You mean like…”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I mean, are we
heading towards the whole marriage and kids and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">white picket fence </i>thing?” It was terribly ironic, she knew, to say
that when they were already living in a house with a white picket fence, but
she knew he’d understand what she was trying to say.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFEiuQ2keOOKsVd2oFZY-QQPJar_6njToyGOryr2OGOJBmgPamg8Uz-kt42jsvZ0byqJagFvoIA9Y_Dt9ZQ364vlkSwdagTjhkaIRbi5pARO_hfuBWZmS66VIPhUHaxbPDroS-qDdIyg/s1600/311.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFEiuQ2keOOKsVd2oFZY-QQPJar_6njToyGOryr2OGOJBmgPamg8Uz-kt42jsvZ0byqJagFvoIA9Y_Dt9ZQ364vlkSwdagTjhkaIRbi5pARO_hfuBWZmS66VIPhUHaxbPDroS-qDdIyg/s640/311.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He shrugged,
unconcerned. “Does it matter?” he asked, bored. “To be honest, I don’t care
either way. Is putting a ring on your finger really going to make that big a
difference?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She was
flabbergasted by his answer. Wasn’t that what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>relationships headed towards? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He sighed, a
little impatient. “Look, Lyra,” he said. “I care for you. But if, say, we
decide in ten years we aren’t compatible after all, will a ring really make you
stay? Or is it going to tie you down and make you miserable?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She loved him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob, </i>she loved him. How was it possible
that he could understand her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so well</i>?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPjqlOt5HqyyFr2shvQ1fxrh8KJc5LiYRWaa_7OEqAMYnK9UuQqhiGrfqv7cm4_pkNUJiP1AjfkA6rsDKeglMdKsuNi94HbMmWqONs6UK0XodOE3K5FKX0lQJHOXi1x99CcDr2sbG5zw/s1600/311.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPjqlOt5HqyyFr2shvQ1fxrh8KJc5LiYRWaa_7OEqAMYnK9UuQqhiGrfqv7cm4_pkNUJiP1AjfkA6rsDKeglMdKsuNi94HbMmWqONs6UK0XodOE3K5FKX0lQJHOXi1x99CcDr2sbG5zw/s640/311.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“And children?”
she asked, struggling to believe it could be that easy. “Do you want any?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">He sighed and let
his head lean back. “Don’t care,” he declared. “I don’t have the big drive to
reproduce so my genes can carry on, but if it does happen, I won’t mind either.
If you care about these things, we can look at it. If you don’t, then that’s
fine too.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“I don’t,” she
admitted with a big smile, absolutely relieved. “I don’t care. I absolutely
don’t. What we have right now is more than enough for me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">What would come
would come. There was no rush. Things were perfect as they were.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Za0Pa-6VIe_LUXGSjys6WWPTMXBtx5Aa_WZeUQSlPBFWKKhxMFLy0btDUajIeqeO5p_GtYnUcCAczUXW4pVMo9lgdKy1iMA0wINeJ8MtaK-DXDPHu2Ty-jLMgPtTSjDxJTSuIwfenaI/s1600/311.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Za0Pa-6VIe_LUXGSjys6WWPTMXBtx5Aa_WZeUQSlPBFWKKhxMFLy0btDUajIeqeO5p_GtYnUcCAczUXW4pVMo9lgdKy1iMA0wINeJ8MtaK-DXDPHu2Ty-jLMgPtTSjDxJTSuIwfenaI/s640/311.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She was dreaming.
She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>she was dreaming. But even
though she knew she was only dreaming, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. It had
been so long since she last saw her family.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-VUEC1MTF1SlbthHaECpN-QlcXthHZwYAyEs2xiq8wT9aQnuJeO81Y6RaC5QcBLjxNbKEuhcoSRifPi7GzZmj9oe5svqyc7V-KGk0li2DoORRg8POtKGjA4bU7TzJmBHt0tH-x8T1Hg/s1600/311.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-VUEC1MTF1SlbthHaECpN-QlcXthHZwYAyEs2xiq8wT9aQnuJeO81Y6RaC5QcBLjxNbKEuhcoSRifPi7GzZmj9oe5svqyc7V-KGk0li2DoORRg8POtKGjA4bU7TzJmBHt0tH-x8T1Hg/s640/311.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her mom had
gotten old – older than her age dictated. She could see it in the tired slant
of her mom’s eyes, and the slight tremble in her hands. It was a relief seeing
Arienne there – even though she and her sister had never really seen eye to
eye, they both loved their mom equally as much.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Renard was also
there, and so was Ingrid, his wife. There was a little girl playing by her
feet, with Renard’s eyes and hair colour. Arienne was alone, and she was very carefully
avoiding looking at the little girl, but she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t </i>avoiding Renard and she was talking to him without any of
that resentment that used to colour their relationship.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1i7wv-UDDYVaoN7k8uFVi1W4Y_XdmLh92Ys-Wp7bQUxzq_i6nUz3ocll5JTyjIMRFMPb7UdCQqSLd1kwMG4xyy6CL6EUk2Cw1fKqoZmBiFepvCPHzjggKPjMOq3aOtN5d9zLK6Wtq8Tc/s1600/311.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1i7wv-UDDYVaoN7k8uFVi1W4Y_XdmLh92Ys-Wp7bQUxzq_i6nUz3ocll5JTyjIMRFMPb7UdCQqSLd1kwMG4xyy6CL6EUk2Cw1fKqoZmBiFepvCPHzjggKPjMOq3aOtN5d9zLK6Wtq8Tc/s640/311.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The scene
shifted. A house burned, flames shooting high up into the sky, and people
walked by without paying it any attention, even though screams were coming from
the inside. It wasn’t right, and even through the dream Lyra could feel that
familiar sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrongness</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Someone stood
behind her. It was a familiar presence; one Lyra had known her entire life. It
had always been there, watching her. She knew that, even though she’d never met
whoever it was before. She turned around and finally knew the identity of her
silent watcher.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4qgXAebKM2FAxJkgFJWZdVESNoTA-z0U45p8To-PvOSgZikGQd_GUGWWmZBgeTgyU8ldUWaxlSLnd89T0daZ-2BzccjmvWJerck_jjutfPU51X6CtlmVGHifo180CgylzUX3AVvnALE/s1600/311.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4qgXAebKM2FAxJkgFJWZdVESNoTA-z0U45p8To-PvOSgZikGQd_GUGWWmZBgeTgyU8ldUWaxlSLnd89T0daZ-2BzccjmvWJerck_jjutfPU51X6CtlmVGHifo180CgylzUX3AVvnALE/s640/311.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re the Keeper,” she stated calmly,
somehow not surprised at all. As familiar as it was, it was still incredibly
frightening to stand in its presence, and for the first time Lyra understood
why everybody always swore by the Keeper. She’d probably start doing it
herself.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“This world’s
Balance is in danger,” the being declared in lieu of answering her statement,
its voice deep and dark. “Direct intervention is required. The decay has been
temporarily slowed with the removal of the Anomaly, but it’s not enough. This
world will Fall unless all external influences are removed.” It turned directly
to her and raised its hand to her chin, skeletal fingers brushing her skin. “In
Howell Island, my agent awaits. When the Moon rises, go to her. A dragon will
take you. Fail this, and your kin will bear the consequences. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Balance must be kept</i>.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzSfd845CPamRxsmP46r2LY6mOI3iw98iIpQ_78rvoWtYXTTJztpbLDjITjKpvOJY_Slci2BkBOSpXBLSCB6jGn-VyRB6Kkbm7ksdnoJ3ZDrEauQTQjVkYAn2OsyfGweSHmA0nY2CA5A/s1600/311.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzSfd845CPamRxsmP46r2LY6mOI3iw98iIpQ_78rvoWtYXTTJztpbLDjITjKpvOJY_Slci2BkBOSpXBLSCB6jGn-VyRB6Kkbm7ksdnoJ3ZDrEauQTQjVkYAn2OsyfGweSHmA0nY2CA5A/s640/311.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She abruptly woke
up. Blaise was deeply asleep beside her, and the glare of the almost-Full Moon
shone through the window, casting the room in light. Tomorrow it would be Full
Moon – five years since she arrived in this world. That dream could not have
been a coincidence.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Blaise was in
full agreement the next morning when she told him about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“There’s no
question about it,” he declared firmly. “If you say you met the Keeper, then
you met the Keeper. It’s not a meeting that can be forgotten. Go to Alison
tonight. If a dragon doesn’t appear like the Keeper promised, take Ignis with
you. He’ll keep you safe.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFaA-E6YSLOIlEcLJPOpuRmfYIABajX0LT0DsbGl9VAD_7SvK__aGB0oC3nCBfkD2dIbWKqkdaZff_7kNINtRaAG4cRddEnKGbL8JzKfR573ZCGNijQU2Oeg5mWSLtjuM3seEM0LOsu4/s1600/311.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFaA-E6YSLOIlEcLJPOpuRmfYIABajX0LT0DsbGl9VAD_7SvK__aGB0oC3nCBfkD2dIbWKqkdaZff_7kNINtRaAG4cRddEnKGbL8JzKfR573ZCGNijQU2Oeg5mWSLtjuM3seEM0LOsu4/s640/311.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">But a dragon did
appear. The moment the Moon rose in the sky, a purple dragon burst out of
nothing, chirping happily at Ignis and making a massive racket. It settled on
Lyra’s shoulder and gave her a look, and in her mind, Lyra vaguely got the feel
of a question. Without question, Lyra knew the dragon was waiting on her to
decide whether they would be going or not. She nodded at the dragon, and with a
flash of light, the dragon transported them to the base on Howell Island. The
place was a hive of activity as everyone prepared for the Hunt, but Lyra didn’t
have time to do more than gain her bearings before Alison appeared by her side.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisgJ8LkARtefWvytxY5WSH01PkKIVSepKyPQQIoHjkeOcwf68dO9O1j3IC4zBuvLZux4-9tAahfK8eyDq3j2SuYntRQidpGvZwcGICJOwWWjQ9NdB36WqRx4Idd3N1_7etVJAHpyS0AQM/s1600/311.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisgJ8LkARtefWvytxY5WSH01PkKIVSepKyPQQIoHjkeOcwf68dO9O1j3IC4zBuvLZux4-9tAahfK8eyDq3j2SuYntRQidpGvZwcGICJOwWWjQ9NdB36WqRx4Idd3N1_7etVJAHpyS0AQM/s640/311.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Quickly now, we don’t have much time,” the
woman murmured urgently. “We only have until Moonset to do this. Do you know
what you have to do?”</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No,</i>” Lyra replied emphatically. “I’ve
only been told to come here. And something about the Balance being in danger on
the world I grew up in.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Alison pursed her
lips in displeasure over the fact that she had to waste time by explaining.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictbvi3vthEwem_VdT0qn-9jrj-EAgieyl3-sAJCvnuMXJ09DS_mSpqsVW2NByMbev4pNOrXUtci-VeGaF_po_t0NsWNEcGGatk9HUL-xV-YCTmJj4ZeSXmQcacoHp7m6iA3KGbP2gNdw/s1600/311.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictbvi3vthEwem_VdT0qn-9jrj-EAgieyl3-sAJCvnuMXJ09DS_mSpqsVW2NByMbev4pNOrXUtci-VeGaF_po_t0NsWNEcGGatk9HUL-xV-YCTmJj4ZeSXmQcacoHp7m6iA3KGbP2gNdw/s640/311.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Alright,” she accepted. “Do you remember the
first time we met, I explained to you how vital it is that the Balance never
gets disrupted? And that the Balance will automatically try to correct itself
unless the distortion is so bad, it’s not possible?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lyra crossed her
arms, a little annoyed by the reminder. Of course she remembered. It was the
reason she had to stay in this world, after all.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtT9dVh3nT9MSwGO4WJLHSOUM7L7p30c2_YYEqY9JNPQdGQ-jv-HnTMDjf253gOw4BiWhaEmtuUWxu6nrbSHXAZdOPji715GLB1e6wda9jTuf08JuDhrEXxuBJgF-_2KkdCTr4c-r4qEI/s1600/311.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtT9dVh3nT9MSwGO4WJLHSOUM7L7p30c2_YYEqY9JNPQdGQ-jv-HnTMDjf253gOw4BiWhaEmtuUWxu6nrbSHXAZdOPji715GLB1e6wda9jTuf08JuDhrEXxuBJgF-_2KkdCTr4c-r4qEI/s640/311.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,” she confirmed simply, waiting for
Alison to continue.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“And do you also
remember what I said about that potion your aunt created, the one that enabled
your father to see ghosts?” Alison continued.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Vaguely,” Lyra
admitted. She remembered the gist of the conversation, but not all the details.
It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>been five years, after all.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JPzkl25ZsghUWs6VboZIENRnyzTqKIls4oQlpQTQG973DvM9XijkC4xlxo-lNjgKj3Ow8d0YPnhYFa40qzkkqdfhtc46yfGEH8vY0A_w-3uhNEMvU0X3UrhhWDxoLXGTVUH4xMn6sRk/s1600/311.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JPzkl25ZsghUWs6VboZIENRnyzTqKIls4oQlpQTQG973DvM9XijkC4xlxo-lNjgKj3Ow8d0YPnhYFa40qzkkqdfhtc46yfGEH8vY0A_w-3uhNEMvU0X3UrhhWDxoLXGTVUH4xMn6sRk/s640/311.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“The point is,
that potion is the reason the Sunset Valley Balance is disrupted,” Alison
declared. “For as long as there are people affected by that potion, the Balance
will be distorted. The only thing that’ll enable the Balance to be corrected
again is if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">those people </i>are removed
from that world.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“But the only
people who ever drank that potion was my aunt and dad,” Lyra pointed out
sceptically. “Two people, of which one is already dead. Are you seriously
telling me that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two people </i>can have
such a big effect on the world?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“But it’s not
just two people, child,” Alison declared firmly. “The effects of the potion are
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">inheritable</i>. Your aunt’s children and
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their </i>children would also be under
the effects. Your siblings and any children <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they
</i>might have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will also be affected</i>.
With any additional children born the effects increase, and the Balance is
distorted further.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSETmniIG2DZuxSIv4YGHSSxU1hT8lNF9a-XfHfFNTMNb5vU4W4obA5qdZzvNV-aJgoN57S5rrXANgJOjEp64upt2lvrTddVP3xdwqglN2AjzSV-fPBzJpsQVpz9fyzD0cGW7IL6x6yAE/s1600/311.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSETmniIG2DZuxSIv4YGHSSxU1hT8lNF9a-XfHfFNTMNb5vU4W4obA5qdZzvNV-aJgoN57S5rrXANgJOjEp64upt2lvrTddVP3xdwqglN2AjzSV-fPBzJpsQVpz9fyzD0cGW7IL6x6yAE/s640/311.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lyra felt the
blood drain from her face as the implications hit her. The Keeper had also
mentioned the influences had to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">removed.
</i>What, exactly did they mean by that?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“So what the hell
do you mean when you say they have to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">removed</i>?”
she demanded vehemently. “Is this some messed up way of saying you’re gonna
kill them?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“If needs be,
yes,” Alison confirmed callously, “but the Keeper isn’t without mercy. He’ll be
content if they simply leave that world. You came to this world out of your own
free will, so the Keeper considers you one of his. Yes, we made you stay, but
you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">accepted </i>it. You embraced living
in this world. Given the chance, would you return to your world?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQty4QTr4lTOCj8kHTvlNwEkXCd4_VU2K1yRuUI4NAB7OyC8KmWZ7QVjylkLUYzY-Cyzl8cF8h0eVTwOVXLwPpUS4H5a6ft6mx1wGzcgZiUhyUktR34Ijk6ebOSITOSrUdUEbEZqi7teQ/s1600/311.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQty4QTr4lTOCj8kHTvlNwEkXCd4_VU2K1yRuUI4NAB7OyC8KmWZ7QVjylkLUYzY-Cyzl8cF8h0eVTwOVXLwPpUS4H5a6ft6mx1wGzcgZiUhyUktR34Ijk6ebOSITOSrUdUEbEZqi7teQ/s640/311.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No, she wouldn’t.
Sunset Valley had never really been her home. She’d never felt like she
belonged there – not the way she belonged in Moonlight Falls. She didn’t even
have to answer Alison’s question, because she knew Alison knew her answer.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Because of
that,” Alison continued, “the Keeper is willing to give you a chance. He is
busy clearing out the influences, but if you can convince your family to leave
before he reaches them, he will spare them.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa5CKuLhy1GHntYl5Q_5zlCK15j4MU7x3uUJHUqN9PUx-D0t9E_kWk_gVG61ypMqVJnA95bLyIpHQLL4J6Kq8Te_H1X4mnh3D1U29CHAXTIdHIUmnMRunGMb2aRowpLKuZbUNiJB76Bc/s1600/311.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa5CKuLhy1GHntYl5Q_5zlCK15j4MU7x3uUJHUqN9PUx-D0t9E_kWk_gVG61ypMqVJnA95bLyIpHQLL4J6Kq8Te_H1X4mnh3D1U29CHAXTIdHIUmnMRunGMb2aRowpLKuZbUNiJB76Bc/s640/311.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But where will they go?” Lyra asked. “This is
a Magical World, right? None of them are magical. They won’t be able to stay
here.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Alison smiled
amusedly at her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Normally, you
would be right,” Alison agreed easily, “but this isn’t a Magical world. It’s a
Mixed World. The forces here are in perfect balance, which means that both
Energetic and Magical creatures can live here. There’s no reason your family
can’t stay.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMRtXUZfL9x6dsBVrPxGT48eDOhVArmljVYRbmXA2gdwyYXUH19LkIbmmSYioKwbaXoeB5V9VhtW2ODdYhfnkh7MeIf2dUZsuedyhh1vgkigq4UdoJyEMV0jGNSNJ77Gu4UABkQbuzz8/s1600/311.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMRtXUZfL9x6dsBVrPxGT48eDOhVArmljVYRbmXA2gdwyYXUH19LkIbmmSYioKwbaXoeB5V9VhtW2ODdYhfnkh7MeIf2dUZsuedyhh1vgkigq4UdoJyEMV0jGNSNJ77Gu4UABkQbuzz8/s640/311.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“So that’s it?”
Lyra asked. “I just have to convince my family to leave? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That’s all</i>? They’ll be safe?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">“Yes,” Alison
confirmed. “Bring them here, and I promise, they will be safe. Now, go. There’s
no time to waste. You have until Moonset. When you’re ready to come back,
simply focus your magic and think of coming here. I’ll do the rest.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">She clicked her
fingers, and a Rift tore open in front of her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No time to waste.
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lyra took a deep
breath and for the first time in five years, returned to the world of her
birth.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9Auum40FmHIS9JK0agPeKgVesO-maEbagLWh84thrJmVgS-hQwj4PCTho85XTN-IQ1sx0FMM2P-syJ_bXm2Dzd5vE5NH4t0BPbPedu0STcU9aTjAyNetLVpO13PWBP5aBTZmNgPIFG0/s1600/311.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9Auum40FmHIS9JK0agPeKgVesO-maEbagLWh84thrJmVgS-hQwj4PCTho85XTN-IQ1sx0FMM2P-syJ_bXm2Dzd5vE5NH4t0BPbPedu0STcU9aTjAyNetLVpO13PWBP5aBTZmNgPIFG0/s640/311.45.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A/N: Deus Ex
Machina? Perhaps, but I don’t care. I want Renard and Arienne in my town. XD</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So, town
explanations. I struggled quite a bit to decide on which town to move them to,
but in the end Moonlight Falls won. I’ve only played a little with MF, but I
think it fits the feel of this legacy the best, so I’m hoping I’ll grow to love
it as much as I love SV or DV. I’ve deleted all the premade townies and filled
the town with some of my own families and some families from other Random
Legacies. I love playing with genetics and watching the genetics change through
the generations, so I’ll be running a closed town, but I might add other
families into the fold in the future. The families I’ve included in the town
are the following ones:</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 26.5pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://matthewsrandomlegacyredone.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Matthews</a> (Belle, Ashton,
Melody, Nathaniel)</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 26.5pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://diffyrandomlegacy.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Diffy</a> (CB, Emily)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://mattellrandomlegacy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Mattell</a> (Shaena, Winter, Kaity)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://secretsofthesixkillers.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sixkiller</a> (Cyrus, Phedra) </span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://sleitinnlegacy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sleitinn</a> (Odin, Lucrecia)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://kahekilis.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kahekili</a> (Colin)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://sabolegacy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sabo</a> (Raindrop)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://beelegacy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bee</a> (Zenith, Solaris)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://cecesimsstories.wordpress.com/love-legacy-chapters/" target="_blank">Love</a> (Alexis)</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5 families from my own games </span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">If your sim is on the list, thanks so much
for making them available for download! I’ve changed the hair colour of one or
two sims just to add a little bit more diversity, and I’ve changed the occults
of some of them, but since I play with a mod that makes all occults (except
vamps – can’t get that one to work) live the same length of time as humans,
it’s just to add another dimension to the genetics. :)</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So far, it’s been quite an interesting
mash-up. Winter is the Gigolo, Solaris the Nerd, Colin the Magnate, Raindrop
the Casanova, and Melody the Loon. The other Personalities are filled by my own
sims.</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-69075681854688422782017-10-26T10:48:00.000+02:002017-10-26T10:52:27.536+02:00Chapter 3.10 - Lost Trust<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">*Warning: As per usual, rated for Blaise’s dirty mouth. This chapter contains bad, uncensored language.*</span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I told you not to come here.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian’s voice was deep and low, a sound so uncharacteristic Lyra couldn’t help but look up from her reading, realising for the first time that someone was at the front door. She’d been so absorbed in her book that she hadn’t even heard Adrian opening the door. Outside, the weather was still storming, with sheets of rain drumming against the muddy soil and gusts of wind howling around the corners of the house. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The heat from the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace was steadily escaping through the open door, making Lyra scowl. Did Adrian <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to talk to whoever was at the door right there? It was damn cold with the door open like that.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just let them come in, Adrian,” Sionann requested petulantly from her position on the couch, echoing Lyra’s thoughts. “You’re letting the heat out.” </span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was getting bigger and heavier by the day, and even though Lyra knew her friend still had a month or two to go, the fairy looked about ready to pop any day now. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian’s grip on the door tightened, and for a moment Lyra thought he would refuse, but then he stepped away from the door with a resigned sigh.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Come in,” he murmured at the guests, but he was clearly and quite visibly hoping they’d refuse and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">leave</i>, to no avail. The guests immediately stepped inside. They were familiar to Lyra in a distant way, like she’d met them before, but not long enough to make an impression. Maybe she met them at Sionann and Adrian’s wedding? </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We need your help,” the blue-haired fairy announced in a no-nonsense tone the moment Adrian closed the door behind them. “Lord Leneo said –”</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,” Adrian interrupted brusquely, folding his arms across his chest in a way not unlike Blaise’s usual stance. “I’m done with the Hunt, Deidre,” he declared firmly. “If you need help, go ask someone else.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“There <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>no one else!” Deidre retorted shrilly, a touch of hysteria in her voice. Her wings, darker than any Lyra had seen before, fluttered impatiently. “You know just as well-“</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Adrian, please, just hear us out,” the male fairy (what was his name again?) requested, halting Deidre’s tirade. “If you still feel the same after hearing what we have to say, I swear to you, we won’t bother you again. Just hear us out.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian continued scowling at them for a moment before he sent a questioning glance to Sionann. Whatever answer he found in her returning glance calmed him down, and with another resigned sigh, he took a seat on the couch and indicated to the others to do the same.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Alright, I’m listening,” he stated non-committedly. The male fairy paced around, clearly trying to find the best words to make his case.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s almost time for another Hunt,” he started, but Adrian immediately interrupted him.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m fully aware of that, Chauncy,” he declared firmly, “and I already told you, I’m done with the Hunt. The only reason we’re still on the island is because of Sionann’s health issues, so if you’re trying to convince me to rejoin the Hunt, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">save your breath</i>. I won’t do it.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not even if it means Sionann and her child will be put in danger?” the third member of the party asked quietly.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The blood drained from Sionann’s face and her hand immediately went to her bump, protectively cradling her unborn son. Adrian abruptly turned to the speaker, a severe expression on his face.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Exactly what are you meaning with that?” he demanded, anger growing in his voice. “Are you threatening us?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The blonde raised her hands in defence.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Peace, Adrian,” she pleaded. “If you’ll just let us explain…”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian scowled, and a muscle in his clenched jaw jumped. His answer was a single short sentence.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Please do.”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Chauncy immediately took up the invitation.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You remember a while ago, when Tighe was attacked?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, it wasn’t an isolated event. There’s a Wild out there who’s deliberately targeting fairies, the same one who attacked Tighe. Last night he attacked Caiolinn and Meallan…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in their house</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann let out an audible gasp at the revelation.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They’re injured, but they’ll be fine,” Chauncy reassured them, “but the point is, our wards aren’t enough to keep our homes safe anymore. We <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need </i>to take down this Wild before he hurts more of us. Deidre,” he indicated with a nod of his head, “tumbled with him before, and he’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vicious, </i>and very dangerous<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. </i>We <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> a mage of your power.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian swept a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“If that’s the truth, there’s only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>reason for me to stay,” he pointed out. “If this Wild is capable of breaching our wards, there’s no guarantee Sionann is safe here. I’ll have to stay to protect her. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know </i>she isn’t capable of using her magic right now. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a mage somewhere else. I won’t do it.”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Adrian, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there is no one else</i>,” Chauncy insisted. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Blaise, but there is literally no one else available. To take this Wild down, we need a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">powerful </i>mage, and all the other mages are already spoken for. I don’t know what their duties are, but Lord Leneo confirmed they’re not available. I fear this breaching of wards is just the beginning of something much bigger, something we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need to stop </i>before it’s too late. We have to take down this Wild, and we’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not strong enough</i>. We need you.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Please,” the blonde agreed.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra didn’t dare to move. She’d almost forgotten about the Hunt, it being so far and distant from her normal everyday life, but with the conversation happening around, it was impossible not to be reminded. Just how dangerous were these Wilds anyway? </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann slid a hand over Adrian’s, wordlessly trying to reassure him.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Do you really think it’s necessary?” she asked Chauncy quietly. Chauncy nodded, his eyes apologetic.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“This is completely unfair to you, I know,” Chauncy apologised to her, “and really, we’re sorry, but we need him. We need you, Adrian.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian sighed, clearly conflicted.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Give me some time to think about it,” he requested tiredly. “I’m not comfortable doing it, but if this Wild is really as dangerous as you say…”</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qQdmabqsRRe7S38CGVYX_tTC94TmplqFGRf49DkRo8o3YTKux2APYTMz9L_ar-bymX4rgkZTTJxVFLRtXIzXRFFqloghI0GNhZnSyJRxev_5NJDuhdydpzotk1Ixi5cxdlxwUwSkwgQ/s1600/310.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8qQdmabqsRRe7S38CGVYX_tTC94TmplqFGRf49DkRo8o3YTKux2APYTMz9L_ar-bymX4rgkZTTJxVFLRtXIzXRFFqloghI0GNhZnSyJRxev_5NJDuhdydpzotk1Ixi5cxdlxwUwSkwgQ/s640/310.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Of course,” Chauncy murmured graciously. “The Hunt will happen at dusk, New Moon. If you decide to join us, come to the base an hour prior. Until then,” he respectfully inclined his head, wordlessly indicating he’d be waiting. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Deidre looked like she wanted to protest, but Chauncy merely held up his hand at her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We made a deal, Deidre,” he rebuked the fairy. “He’s free to decide for himself.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The group bade their farewell and left the house, leaving Adrian to contemplate their offer.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann slid a hand onto his thigh, wordlessly comforting him. With a great sigh, he turned to her and wrapped his arms around her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Keeper, what a bad time for this to be happening,” he murmured into her neck. “I don’t know what I should do.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann hummed in agreement, her face troubled.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Talk to Blaise,” she suggested. “He’ll be able to tell you if they were telling the truth or not. I don’t want you to do this unless absolutely necessary, but if it is the truth and you do decide to join them…” She pulled away, and gave him a small, trusting smile. “I trust you,” she declared. “I trust your skills, your abilities, and your dedication. I know you’ll be fine. I know you’ll come back to me. And Lady Alison’s wards are stronger than any other, and I trust in her as well, so I know I’ll be safe, even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">if </i>this Wild comes a-knocking.”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian released a shuddering breath and pulled her back into his arms. “Thank you,” he said simply, holding onto her like a drowning man held onto his lifeline.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra gently closed her book and walked away to her room, giving them some privacy. She had intruded long enough, and she needed time to sort out her thoughts. All of a sudden, the present and the future no longer looked quite as secure. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise didn’t return home until late that evening. He’d been out hunting the entire day, and when he came back, he was clearly cold, dirty and absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">miserable</i>. On his shoulder, his dragon, Ignis, drooped listlessly, clearly just as miserable.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What a shitty day,” he complained, his always-present scowl marring his brow. Ignis chirped in agreement and launched off Blaise’s shoulder before flying to the couch and promptly curling up to sleep. “I hate mud. And I’m tired of all this fucking rain. Why the –” </span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Deidre’s team came to visit, this morning,” Adrian abruptly brought a halt to Blaise’s complaints. Blaise’s scowl immediately intensified, and a dark, dangerous look entered his eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Did they now,” he growled, a touch of anger in his voice. “I fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">told </i>them to stay away.”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is it true?” Adrian demanded. “About a Wild breaching wards.” He crossed his arms across his chest, clearly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daring </i>Blaise to lie, or evade the question. </span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise gave a derisive snort. “’A’ Wild?” he repeated. “Try all of them. I don’t know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how </i>they’re managing to do it, but there’s been a series of incidents where the wards have been breached, and it’s not just from one Wild. What do you think I’ve been doing all day? Catching bubbles?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Why didn’t you tell me?” Adrian demanded, ignoring Blaise’s sarcasm. Blaise gave a sigh and tugged on the dragon-wing in his ear.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMDDiApASF8UVYCF6TQH6x8-BFCdXGFfxnite7F3Rrcm2B2rUAyZI_euffDAGStlIZidZaLtVSfM96LPMUC5tYe8WiVtvltKfl2w6gu7UUBITRClSqaXU80b8JXw6L6uXMfZcwXkrXpS4/s1600/310.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMDDiApASF8UVYCF6TQH6x8-BFCdXGFfxnite7F3Rrcm2B2rUAyZI_euffDAGStlIZidZaLtVSfM96LPMUC5tYe8WiVtvltKfl2w6gu7UUBITRClSqaXU80b8JXw6L6uXMfZcwXkrXpS4/s640/310.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look, what does it matter?” he evaded. “You’re not a part of the Hunt anymore, and Alison’s wards are strong enough to keep you safe. Telling you would’ve only made you feel guilty.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn right,</i> it would,” Adrian retorted. “I’m not going to sit around doing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>if it means people are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dying </i>out there! If I have the skills to protect them, then I have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right </i>to help! If I knew things were so dire –”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann clapped her hands together, interrupting the building fight.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s discuss this like rational adults, shall we?” she asked calmly. “Adrian, attacking him now isn’t going to change anything. Blaise, explanation, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise sighed with irritation and gave a shrug. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’s not much to explain,” he insisted. “Wilds are breaching wards, we don’t know why, we’re on their trail and hunting them. What more do you want? Deidre and them should <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>have come here.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, they did, and they told me they need my help,” Adrian retorted. “Keeper Blaise, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">deserve </i>to know this! I’ve been involved and a part of the Hunt for far too long to be kept in ignorance like this. If you needed my help, you should’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">told </i>me.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise’s reply was surprisingly mild.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You knew, Adrian,” he pointed out. “You’ve always known we’re short on manpower. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It doesn’t make a difference</i>. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>be on the mainland. You wouldn’t have been able to help anyway if you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were</i>.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But I’m not there,” Adrian whispered. “I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here</i>. And if I can still make a difference, then I will. If you need manpower that much, then <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine</i>. I will rejoin the Hunt.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">On the surface, nothing changed, but ever since that argument between Blaise and Adrian, the atmosphere in the house changed, just slightly, becoming much more driven. Blaise still didn’t think Adrian should rejoin the Hunt, but he never said something, and he did everything in his power to make sure Adrian’s skills were still on par and help him get his edge back. He pursued his goals like a madman, and Lyra’s own lessons with him came to a temporary halt as all of Blaise’s spare time was given to helping Adrian.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was awe-inspiring to watch Blaise and Adrian spar with each other. Lyra had known, in a distant part of her mind, that Adrian was also a fighter, but watching him go head-to-head with Blaise and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stay level with him</i> was…breath-taking. Amazing. Fearsome. Lyra had had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no idea </i>he was so good. She couldn’t understand why Blaise was so worried about him. With skills like those, it would take something major to bring him down.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Before long, New Moon arrived, and with it, the date of the Hunt. It was the first time a major Hunt happened since Lyra appeared on the island, and she watched their preparations with mild curiosity. It was much, much more meticulous, and there was a terse, predatory feel to their movements.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann was completely silent as she watched them, and Lyra couldn’t help but wonder if she should feel worried as well. Perhaps the Hunt was a much bigger deal than she originally thought it was?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Ignis gave a cheerful chirp as he hopped to his feet, looking expectantly at Blaise. As if the sound pulled him out of his thoughts, Blaise straightened and turned to Adrian.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s time.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Right,” Adrian agreed and stood up from his meditative position. He took Sionann into his arms and simply held her, perhaps gaining strength from her presence or perhaps saying good-bye in case the worse happened, Lyra didn’t know. It didn’t help that Blaise – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise, who didn’t exactly believe in displays of affection </i>– did the same to her.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Catch you later,” he promised her softly, and then the two of them were gone, transported by Blaise’s dragon to the base where the Hunt was due to start, leaving Lyra and Sionann to stay behind in the suddenly overwhelmingly empty house.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Is it always like this?” Lyra asked Sionann, overwhelmed by the barrage of emotions suddenly assaulting her. He couldn’t help but feel like Blaise’s words had been both a good-bye and a promise. She’d never, not once, worried about Blaise and his participation in the Hunt, but now…now she was suddenly terrified she was going to lose him. They <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>weren’t really dating, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dammit</i>, he was important to her. She didn’t want to lose him.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,” Sionann confirmed, and there were tears in her eyes. “The Hunt, especially the New Moon Hunt, when everyone’s magic is at its lowest, is very dangerous, and there’s no knowing what’ll happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Wilds are driven to frenzy, making them more dangerous, more reckless, and sometimes skill is not enough to defeat them.” She wrapped her arms around her. “It’s a tense time for those waiting, but there’s nothing more we can do but trust in our loved ones’ skills and pray that they’ll be lucky enough to return to us. I trust Adrian, and I trust Blaise. They’ll come back to us. They will.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She dabbed at the tears in her eyes and turned to Lyra, making a conscious effort to smile at her. “So let’s not worry about them further. It’ll be several hours before they come back, so let’s make the most of it, right?”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was one of the longest nights Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>remembered experiencing. It reminded her far too much of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>, where she had been unable to do anything but wait helplessly, waiting for news that her brother was safe, that her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dad </i>was going to be okay, and that helpless despair at finding out that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing was okay</i>. She had promised herself <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night </i>that she’d never be so helpless again, but here she was again. Waiting. Helpless to do anything <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but </i>wait.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Helpless to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">help </i>when she needed to the most. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">How could so many things go so wrong in such a short time?</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian had died during the Hunt.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She still had no idea exactly what happened, what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">caused </i>it, but when Sionann collapsed just after midnight, her face stricken and her wings turning pitch-black, Lyra had instinctively <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">known. </i>Adrian was gone. He was never going to come back. When Blaise returned in the early morning hours, his face had all but confirmed her fears, but by then she was already numb. She had her own bad news to deliver.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The stress had caused Sionann to go into labour, prematurely, a long, difficult labour, and coupled with the fact that her pregnancy hadn’t been the smoothest ride, it had been too much for the fairy. Alison had arrived just after the contractions had started, alerted in some supernatural way Lyra had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no idea </i>of knowing, but despite her best efforts, they hadn’t been able to save Sionann.</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She had never even been able to hold her the son she’d been looking forward to for so long. Little Reagan was born strong and completely healthy, and Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to resent the child for causing his mother’s death, but she couldn’t. He was just as much a victim as any of them. Both Blaise and she had lost their best friends in one night, and Reagan had lost his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">parents</i>, before ever getting the chance to know them. It just wasn’t fair.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But life never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>fair, was it? She’d learned that a long time ago. Death was indiscriminate. It didn’t care if someone was good, or evil. It didn’t care if it took people who would’ve been the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfect parents</i>, and left their helpless child to be raised by two bumbling idiots who had no desire nor knowledge of how to raise a child.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63nvMRz363IULPqVvZ8K-m1mRoZii3nYz-PlMBmwe42t1uUh4YdaBcUf_8bWCuTnL8pYtO4DBoJm5VtjHL737jMnBZZNbw9cthyphenhyphen4f_DJ2SmfYRt3psY1vgnHmvz3w_Zrrf7QL6JH_ts0/s1600/310.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63nvMRz363IULPqVvZ8K-m1mRoZii3nYz-PlMBmwe42t1uUh4YdaBcUf_8bWCuTnL8pYtO4DBoJm5VtjHL737jMnBZZNbw9cthyphenhyphen4f_DJ2SmfYRt3psY1vgnHmvz3w_Zrrf7QL6JH_ts0/s640/310.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Blaise,” Alison looked at her son standing by the sliding door, broodily staring out over the backyard. His shoulders were tense, and Lyra didn’t even have to know him as well as she did to see how much he was hurting from the deaths of his friends.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t,” he interrupted Alison before she could say anything else, his voice thick and gruff. “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need you to act like you actually care about me. Not now. Not today.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn’t. Instead she just sighed resignedly and looked over at Lyra, who was quietly sitting with Reagan, numbly watching the scene in front of her.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFQzqr6iFGSltLqDaSvbfpWhLMgU19uZw8oj7r2NJZRoQVontjVXeZrwSNsFBn4p5MEiHsVC5h5G_pIscGfe9ucsou0_LHEnStDh-6ly7W4luESx92RI5FDPi1y7nJZSoC4MEVUtWWVc/s1600/310.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFQzqr6iFGSltLqDaSvbfpWhLMgU19uZw8oj7r2NJZRoQVontjVXeZrwSNsFBn4p5MEiHsVC5h5G_pIscGfe9ucsou0_LHEnStDh-6ly7W4luESx92RI5FDPi1y7nJZSoC4MEVUtWWVc/s640/310.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“There is still the matter of the child,” she mentioned gently. “He can’t stay here. I hate to do this while the loss-”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t bother,” Blaise interrupted her again, still refusing to look at her. “I know my duty. Adrian asked me to look after him, and I will bloody well do so.” In a softer voice, he continued. “It’s my duty as his godfather.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So, you’ll leave the island?” Alison asked mildly. “You’ll give up the Hunt?”</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise swept a tired hand across his face. Lyra wordlessly watched them, wondering what it’ll mean for her. If Blaise left for the mainland, would she be allowed to go with him? Or would she be forced to stay on the island until the next Full Moon, before moving on to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who-</i>knows<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">-</i>where? She’d almost forgotten that Alison had told her she’ll have to move to a different world next Full Moon. She didn’t want to. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This </i>world was where she wanted to stay. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This </i>was where she felt like she belonged, much more than she had ever belonged in Sunset Valley. This was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>. With Blaise, and now little Reagan.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“As much as I loathe to, yes,” Blaise agreed tiredly. “My promise to Adrian takes precedence. I don’t want to give up the Hunt, but Reagan is more important. I will not fail the last promise I made to my brother in all but blood.”</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf60u1Rq_LEmdrhDeiytUn_trh94PYPgF97Wx6BX8WBLEDwp-mmgIixghXFFMGMHT7EdWQfjQKC9YvICGoj3yoHZSYSlkX0JXL3QiU5t14Fk_cHu4WvTYiTAQGU4pt6PBR65KpYI2jU/s1600/310.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUf60u1Rq_LEmdrhDeiytUn_trh94PYPgF97Wx6BX8WBLEDwp-mmgIixghXFFMGMHT7EdWQfjQKC9YvICGoj3yoHZSYSlkX0JXL3QiU5t14Fk_cHu4WvTYiTAQGU4pt6PBR65KpYI2jU/s640/310.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison stood up, clearly satisfied with his answer.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Then I’ve heard enough,” she decided. “Go to your sister, in Moonlight Falls. She’ll help you get set up. You understand things are different there, and you’ll have to work for a living, right?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise had a sister? Lyra hadn’t known that. But then, what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>she know about him? He was remarkably tight-lipped about his personal life. Still, she was the last person to talk. She had never told him anything about her family either.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3yZsbAlHMsW19PHXv4uT3tWmbxuW0rH7SDPK7msQ4LSkSqM2yTSMjZ7csSdbZYGi1vbS9BeGRV2oZd6WNVwVn1WJ_gGWnR6fT-0A1kBBhn5PHpARwlfWJtZ8JAhbiNMjeaFIer_wAq4/s1600/310.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3yZsbAlHMsW19PHXv4uT3tWmbxuW0rH7SDPK7msQ4LSkSqM2yTSMjZ7csSdbZYGi1vbS9BeGRV2oZd6WNVwVn1WJ_gGWnR6fT-0A1kBBhn5PHpARwlfWJtZ8JAhbiNMjeaFIer_wAq4/s640/310.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise immediately scowled at the reminder. “I’m not an idiot,” he snarled at her. “Of course I know that. I might never have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lived </i>there, but I do know that, at least.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison defensively held up her hand. “Peace, son,” she begged mildly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re prepared, that’s all.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise’s scowl intensified with irritation. “And I told you, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop acting like you give a damn</i>. You never did, and I sure as hell don’t need to deal with your hypocritical shit today. So please, if you’ll just fucking leave now so I can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get on with my life</i>, I’d really appreciate that. We’ll be gone, first thing tomorrow.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulrkU1RzMZNyGMZpnButrKWLE6Az1rkkz_ZcKGWzZqKZ6vzS5AvHWU30korjWubaAJZkIygNpgmdF4G5UcB5wREK0P4aMbKJVhHkahyn4OunxElYw0n4JjfnwV4D0J0kZIoXnvEl9e5s/s1600/310.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulrkU1RzMZNyGMZpnButrKWLE6Az1rkkz_ZcKGWzZqKZ6vzS5AvHWU30korjWubaAJZkIygNpgmdF4G5UcB5wREK0P4aMbKJVhHkahyn4OunxElYw0n4JjfnwV4D0J0kZIoXnvEl9e5s/s640/310.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison sighed, her eyes sad. “I’ll never be able to convince you that I do care, will I?” she murmured softly.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise didn’t bother to grace her with an answer. He turned his back on her, clearly indicating he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">done </i>talking to her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison smiled wanly, clearly used to his behaviour, before turning to Lyra.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfg4P42IKWx1xuet5Xm6NMxv1XD7UtfdRTwEDz4bWz4FthR6KGiEyx7KcJqNgzsrt6NxPuaSKBpHMKgAX-M6esMtUfIPR7BQSwgwk1zX8NmRzKCesbQR43ati94feIrqOgc2-8NXGZsg/s1600/310.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfg4P42IKWx1xuet5Xm6NMxv1XD7UtfdRTwEDz4bWz4FthR6KGiEyx7KcJqNgzsrt6NxPuaSKBpHMKgAX-M6esMtUfIPR7BQSwgwk1zX8NmRzKCesbQR43ati94feIrqOgc2-8NXGZsg/s640/310.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We’ll need to discuss your new living arrangements,” Alison informed Lyra, not un-kindly. Lyra fisted her hand, instantly understanding the implications, but before she responded, Blaise interrupted.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She’ll be coming with me.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison frowned at the interruption. “I’m not sure that’s –”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“There’s no way I’ll be able to take care of Reagan on my own,” Blaise declared crossly. “She’s coming with me, end of story. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I trust her</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“That’s not for you to decide-”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I don’t give a fuck.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbN8SThw3zGkByhbM4cClFZPvvoFlbs7j_20SC_29N9KYuQp5Q5cEjEiRAat4FgsrgojFyWmf7KnvPdTmGtWS17HSZdBc2hJGeEHOqLBu6hXwQNgXEWCVnhsbD7EsdcMFcZdYiFl8AOA/s1600/310.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbN8SThw3zGkByhbM4cClFZPvvoFlbs7j_20SC_29N9KYuQp5Q5cEjEiRAat4FgsrgojFyWmf7KnvPdTmGtWS17HSZdBc2hJGeEHOqLBu6hXwQNgXEWCVnhsbD7EsdcMFcZdYiFl8AOA/s640/310.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The words rang hollowly in the silence that followed, and Lyra couldn’t stop the scowl on her face. She was sick and tired of always being unable to make her own decisions, and she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sick </i>of being restricted by so many rules and orders. This was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>damn life, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">surely</i> she deserved being able to make her own choices. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">done </i>living like a prisoner.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did anyone bother to think what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>wanted?” she asked cuttingly. “Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? And can you please stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">For a long, tense moment, Lyra thought nobody would respond to her, but then Blaise turned around and looked her squarely in the eye.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizbS-X9HCOHn3DTCUNKnfct8-KhZM0z8N5ZJK1l6vgoOuyFApEiogzPzEEDc9W0PWUkF0ap8GOnJDtAlV5_LVC4432F1A8CjZladdI8Q5w7m59fIwsmhQHFQEBhHXyZa0bnNjQwUZ_Tc/s1600/310.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizbS-X9HCOHn3DTCUNKnfct8-KhZM0z8N5ZJK1l6vgoOuyFApEiogzPzEEDc9W0PWUkF0ap8GOnJDtAlV5_LVC4432F1A8CjZladdI8Q5w7m59fIwsmhQHFQEBhHXyZa0bnNjQwUZ_Tc/s640/310.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you want to come with me?” he asked brusquely. Lyra didn’t even have to think about the answer.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I do.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Then you’ll come with me.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison looked like she wanted to protest, but after a second she sighed and admitted defeat.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Are you sure about this, son?” she asked earnestly.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Dead sure,” was Blaise’s immediate, unhesitant answer. “I trust her. With my life, if must be.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AXVql2qsQeskboxOmfOtYKQoFyV3iTryZoB4dK3F4lGpbH7fwwAqFfSRqra2hOek5Glae6Xa0mQMZaK8XN8iYpA2I4ESq2WpGYqSRyhKMkPJsAUfHR-wvj7NkorybAlcfdLCUhJ1IFk/s1600/310.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AXVql2qsQeskboxOmfOtYKQoFyV3iTryZoB4dK3F4lGpbH7fwwAqFfSRqra2hOek5Glae6Xa0mQMZaK8XN8iYpA2I4ESq2WpGYqSRyhKMkPJsAUfHR-wvj7NkorybAlcfdLCUhJ1IFk/s640/310.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s all hope it never comes to that,” Alison muttered, but thankfully dropped the subject. “Very well, Blaise. I will trust you. I will allow her passage through the Barrier.” She gave a nod of both agreement and farewell. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She clicked her fingers, and with a flash of light she disappeared, a method of travelling Adrian had assured Lyra long ago only the dragons and Alison could do.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Mind telling me exactly what that was about?” Lyra asked bitingly as soon as the light disappeared. She wanted to cross her arms defensively, but with Reagan sleeping soundly in her arms, she didn’t want to bother him, so she contented herself with giving Blaise a glare.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVW_EPV2V2GaSHahwrsTvHn9TRgXLd6ktEqiMjMNgMuDEfHuSjojq5hsTzV0z2Gw5_4LiWGIAYN5YKMObCNm5OXuMZh8G7zhqJJT7ch5U1aOum4iDaLOCEIV7rxqMwcQBdvnNg42H1mBY/s1600/310.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVW_EPV2V2GaSHahwrsTvHn9TRgXLd6ktEqiMjMNgMuDEfHuSjojq5hsTzV0z2Gw5_4LiWGIAYN5YKMObCNm5OXuMZh8G7zhqJJT7ch5U1aOum4iDaLOCEIV7rxqMwcQBdvnNg42H1mBY/s640/310.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He simply shrugged, completely unaffected by her glare.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Our rules dictate that a newcomer must be vetted and tested for a minimum of one cycle before being allowed into the mainland,” Blaise explained unconcernedly. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Suddenly, it all made sense. Lyra had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wondered </i>why she had to stay on this violence-ridden island for so long if she had no desire to fight herself. They had been watching her, observing her; trying to decide whether she was a threat or not. She hadn’t been given a place in Sionann’s house from the goodness of her heart – she’d simply been placed under observation, from the start.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8bhRkyLsikBJf8b5mq6zqpKziXTqrcZe6-pBe73paw_gi6N_RR_80RLmcKdGE5IDIq8_7KZKwkdWNiGUMruadpqUHVh81Lph9DgTyItos9qJHK1HX_bWQiZpxu2Mn8cS_pNDcc_s_LU/s1600/310.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8bhRkyLsikBJf8b5mq6zqpKziXTqrcZe6-pBe73paw_gi6N_RR_80RLmcKdGE5IDIq8_7KZKwkdWNiGUMruadpqUHVh81Lph9DgTyItos9qJHK1HX_bWQiZpxu2Mn8cS_pNDcc_s_LU/s640/310.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Was everything she experienced in this house a lie? Had Sionann and Adrian actually cared about her, or had they simply been doing their duty? Was her relationship with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise </i>real, or was it just a sham, after all? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why </i>then, did they bother making her feel like she belonged?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Plumbob</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, she felt betrayed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You mean this was never real,” she accused him bitterly. “Sionann, Adrian, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you, </i>none of it<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. </i>You were just doing your duty.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He quirked his eyebrow at her, clearly not impressed with her statement.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_29LkoUAPGj9zspznrxXz8OzpHUQYV0GB6x96-0F_huFivtNZCyzaMCIxiFbWAxmSvU2ma-H64zRu5fhCG24cVuLf7x26L5modlIvH1Ki732snqKqhuoYxeNiEegjjgLmRWkt7Zc0bJM/s1600/310.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_29LkoUAPGj9zspznrxXz8OzpHUQYV0GB6x96-0F_huFivtNZCyzaMCIxiFbWAxmSvU2ma-H64zRu5fhCG24cVuLf7x26L5modlIvH1Ki732snqKqhuoYxeNiEegjjgLmRWkt7Zc0bJM/s640/310.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If it was just a case of us doing our duty, you would never have been allowed to hold that child,” Blaise retorted, nodding towards the baby still sleeping contentedly in her arms. “I certainly wouldn’t have asked you to come with me to the mainland, either.” He sighed and turned his gaze back over the backyard. “It might’ve been duty at the start, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>was a lie. You won our trust, simple as that.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And I’m just supposed to believe that,” Lyra retorted bitterly. He turned back to her, a slightly irritated scowl on his face.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Believe what you want, but it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>the truth.”</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBoMTeYdtinSwATKYp4_eWn_M244APZpwpZZdcc_4WVbT_zbD6qTiMp3_vIm8HTE_Z7s_RelUuLEk-mBuP8R0MO3IlQ7fjHim89wpP99RqAUCf11OnLoix69xd9HB_xRI4oAUXHccN48/s1600/310.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBoMTeYdtinSwATKYp4_eWn_M244APZpwpZZdcc_4WVbT_zbD6qTiMp3_vIm8HTE_Z7s_RelUuLEk-mBuP8R0MO3IlQ7fjHim89wpP99RqAUCf11OnLoix69xd9HB_xRI4oAUXHccN48/s640/310.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra didn’t know what she was expected to believe. They had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lied </i>to her for all this time, and yet…none of the experiences felt like lies. There had always been a warmth in Adrian’s eyes and attitude that couldn’t be faked, and Sionann…Sionann, especially, had made her feel like family. She didn’t know if she could accept those memories as fake.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And Blaise…</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He sighed tiredly and held his head like he had a headache. He looked absolutely exhausted, and way more vulnerable than she had seen him before. He was always so strong and stubborn, and Lyra had spent enough time with him to know that he wouldn’t, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wouldn’t</i>, allow himself to lower his guard so much if he didn’t trust her.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMQiAu1sm8zYlllCtJp8WoDSwcpxPqMTjSoLXEmJh7XLqF7ygdwxoQOYE0x8i9h7ZdU0n4WZg8U7oUVu0hWx2bKf4cKf0Tj75rBF7BEIr1KtHanKqMQ8SsPdun5mRt4TtpT1D7Kbok9A/s1600/310.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMQiAu1sm8zYlllCtJp8WoDSwcpxPqMTjSoLXEmJh7XLqF7ygdwxoQOYE0x8i9h7ZdU0n4WZg8U7oUVu0hWx2bKf4cKf0Tj75rBF7BEIr1KtHanKqMQ8SsPdun5mRt4TtpT1D7Kbok9A/s640/310.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">So, did that mean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i> trusted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i> enough to believe him? She didn’t know, but she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to believe him. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to trust him. He always went on about ‘trusting her instincts’, and right now her instincts were telling her that it was not a lie, that he was telling the truth; that it would be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">okay </i>to trust him.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Alright,” she allowed. “I’ll trust you. Just please, don’t lie to me again. Not about something this important.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He snorted in amusement, but he still looked sideways and gave her that tiny smile she’d started to fall in love with.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxwsLEE2O8akZyyg4qTcgDIhBFfAGfq4ju0Yxl8Ito2Wo3t5o4BYo6AHJTga7u4xqC_fEm8nPKckUqvCW_JyLEA352HAcyfobkCucwDVk7P-HsVDOPeluxVFEEDexBiNbPocDmrHWULM/s1600/310.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxwsLEE2O8akZyyg4qTcgDIhBFfAGfq4ju0Yxl8Ito2Wo3t5o4BYo6AHJTga7u4xqC_fEm8nPKckUqvCW_JyLEA352HAcyfobkCucwDVk7P-HsVDOPeluxVFEEDexBiNbPocDmrHWULM/s640/310.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I never lied to you in the first place,” he declared. “Might’ve omitted the truth, but never lied.” She frowned slightly, not impressed at all by that answer, but his eyes softened a bit, and Lyra felt her scowl fade away. He looked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so damn</i> tired. She almost wanted him to go back to his normal gruff, brusque self. She’d seen signs of his calm and quiet personality before, in their training sessions, but right now, she wanted his normal self back. She didn’t like seeing him so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tired</i>.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“But fine,” he agreed, bringing her back to the topic at hand. “I won’t do it again.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She nodded, gratefully accepting the promise. She’d hold him to that, in their new lives on the mainland. For however long she stayed with him.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2X0VyBUi1y2B3ZrnYGCTEVX5o0_lq3UFVGU2iLHNsJPlfAXI6G9_YJk28FuunJY1flx3RFB2femCyXbF6bRwzRWRR9FHLPPeSABG6Pz-WsnKE06zeNKS3_zxRJmFhtBpT-YL6kdX-Ho/s1600/310.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2X0VyBUi1y2B3ZrnYGCTEVX5o0_lq3UFVGU2iLHNsJPlfAXI6G9_YJk28FuunJY1flx3RFB2femCyXbF6bRwzRWRR9FHLPPeSABG6Pz-WsnKE06zeNKS3_zxRJmFhtBpT-YL6kdX-Ho/s640/310.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I blame Lyra and her ridiculously complex roll for this one. Family structure roll reveal: not Full House. It’s Mixed Couple. I needed a reason for Lyra to adopt a child that would make sense for her character, and this is the only one I could think of. I will also do a Child reveal, since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>plays into why Lyra turned out like she did: 2 kids. She’s fated to have only one child herself. So full roll reveal: </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Mixed Couple<br />
Freelance Photographer<br />
Freelance Scientist<br />
2 kids<br />
Idle Careers<br />
Runs in the Family</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How </i>could Lyra turn out anyway else? </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">With Reagan's birth, I’ve rolled for the next generation, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>roll is going to be another fun one to figure out. *bangs head* And I thought Evelyn and Chantia’s rolls were bad. Still, that’s what’s making this challenge fun and interesting. XD<span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-53644632601621850962017-10-18T18:04:00.002+02:002017-10-18T18:04:43.752+02:00Chapter 3.09 - Passion<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<b><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">*Warning: Contains bad language and reference to adult events* </span></span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">(The content mature content warning <i>still </i>doesn't want to work)</span></span></span><b><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"></span></span></b><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Rain <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lashed </i>against the windows, and the wind
pulled on the doors as it drove the rain in sleety sheets around the house, but
inside it was warm and cosy, a pinewood fire crackling merrily in the hearth.
Winter had arrived fully on Howell Island, and with it, it brought the most
vicious storms Lyra had ever experienced. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Winter on the
island was much different than winter on Sunset Valley had been. Back there,
winter was all about cold, crisp and clear skies and snow-covered ground. It
snowed more than it rained, and most of the time the snow fell during night,
leaving them to enjoy their days in the snow and the sun.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMAyN18bvPnvXqOvBis8TH9qYjyCZRe4aIZpgDNcznqKqRivqvim_MDjIueIZJZXMEPGuHH0CU_57TI0C5bb5GSwPsimHDbKNtCOI-MS3Wpr0W1AopY9Q6UQZC7AQwmowNlK_ZYxtIvg/s1600/309.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMAyN18bvPnvXqOvBis8TH9qYjyCZRe4aIZpgDNcznqKqRivqvim_MDjIueIZJZXMEPGuHH0CU_57TI0C5bb5GSwPsimHDbKNtCOI-MS3Wpr0W1AopY9Q6UQZC7AQwmowNlK_ZYxtIvg/s640/309.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Here though, it
rained so constantly the snow had difficulty settling on the ground. It was a
cold, icy sleet rain that bit into any exposed skin and soaked you down to the
bone within seconds of stepping outside. There was no way people on the island
would voluntarily spend the day outside, just to enjoy the weather.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It certainly kept
the members of the household inside.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm5bs7_AVaJ47jHnwdRsBe271CFM-qNCOUP-MWviSMqAQcOL9ThY5YGGoBZG-gLPShnl1NKhFNzugq2JeRSH7T683k_ZwzeuMTRUrNrJKT-IrjS0rpzR_-1JYQ-TuvpCauWThgYh6QrM/s1600/309.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm5bs7_AVaJ47jHnwdRsBe271CFM-qNCOUP-MWviSMqAQcOL9ThY5YGGoBZG-gLPShnl1NKhFNzugq2JeRSH7T683k_ZwzeuMTRUrNrJKT-IrjS0rpzR_-1JYQ-TuvpCauWThgYh6QrM/s640/309.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann was
humming as she flitted around the house, sorting out the items she wanted to
take with them when she and Adrian left, Adrian assisting her good-naturedly.
They were scheduled to leave the island at the end of the week, a prospect that
had Sionann alternating between boundless excitement and tearful shows of
affection. She was extremely excited to start their family, but she was clearly
saddened that they would be leaving Blaise, Lyra and all their other friends
behind. Adrian, and even Blaise, strangely enough, took the fairy’s spontaneous
change of moods in stride, allowing her to shower them with kisses (Adrian) or
hugs (Blaise, although he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>very
reluctant and resigned about it) whenever she was in one of her tearful moods.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra herself had
been the recipient of way too many teary hugs herself.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6bm2l5Fr01wavAYfTOa48Jgn_5G0-V1pYAEES3JxBq8tVPx72_B1G6foRkMYiQipw7TLFh7n8lmxkhHPM6p8rmPCJkgSneBmq0-S-rGZSJcCXXfi6lVI0sBBDEq1ulvBfrN6idy1Nyk/s1600/309.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6bm2l5Fr01wavAYfTOa48Jgn_5G0-V1pYAEES3JxBq8tVPx72_B1G6foRkMYiQipw7TLFh7n8lmxkhHPM6p8rmPCJkgSneBmq0-S-rGZSJcCXXfi6lVI0sBBDEq1ulvBfrN6idy1Nyk/s640/309.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">At the moment
though, Blaise seemed a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">little </i>less
tolerant of her cheerful mood than normal, that ever-present scowl on his face
deepening just that tiny little fraction more whenever the fairy hummed too
loud or dropped an item or really, doing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything
</i>that produced noise. He was deeply immersed (or trying to focus, at least)
in some books and documents in front of him, and it was quite clear that
Sionann’s current exuberant mood kept breaking his focus. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was, if Lyra
was completely honest, a little amusing to watch. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">certainly </i>never tried to keep his temper in check around <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXq8KdOe0TcPdlelSGV9RFfkpxuastHWN63zZjEpHxRlafI-so8lo5Xim9BCYJAbLBLhnce7X09AoiIET6FuGK-XxGs-YsY5r-gcQY_d1HnA4fE-QCo72UGxIVnyeNaSGvnRNp5R-qno/s1600/309.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXq8KdOe0TcPdlelSGV9RFfkpxuastHWN63zZjEpHxRlafI-so8lo5Xim9BCYJAbLBLhnce7X09AoiIET6FuGK-XxGs-YsY5r-gcQY_d1HnA4fE-QCo72UGxIVnyeNaSGvnRNp5R-qno/s640/309.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He shoved the
book in front of him away with a scowl, and Lyra couldn’t help but notice the
title of the book: ‘Science Vol.2: Quantum Genetics’. She raised her eyebrows
incredulously. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Science?! </i>Of all the
things she’d thought he’d be interested in, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">science
</i>had been the last thing in her mind. Okay, maybe she was just stereotyping
a bit, but she’d always considered him to be more brawn than brain. Looking
back on it…there really had been no reason to think that. He had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely </i>never given her reason to
think he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I never thought
you to be the science type,” she confessed before her brain caught up with her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">goddamn </i>mouth. Why, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why </i>couldn’t she be more aware of her words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before </i>she spoke them?</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTiN1GgW3mDsLGgsM9hN8xWfnUg0bFSHaUYjo9gy48gvImAzA5VhpaLffFQbYvL3Jrs9VqRx0AlFaQwv6t4jmOYfspRcGUoelAlPSYC0IHFbY1lxU7JqE-ltQTTwZ02QjtiznIYGuRKc/s1600/309.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghTiN1GgW3mDsLGgsM9hN8xWfnUg0bFSHaUYjo9gy48gvImAzA5VhpaLffFQbYvL3Jrs9VqRx0AlFaQwv6t4jmOYfspRcGUoelAlPSYC0IHFbY1lxU7JqE-ltQTTwZ02QjtiznIYGuRKc/s640/309.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">As expected, he
looked up at her with a massive scowl marring his face.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What, think I’m
too stupid?” he challenged acerbically, eyes glittering dangerously.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I never said
that,” Lyra snapped defensively. Sure, she might’ve thought it subconsciously,
but she had certainly never voiced it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Of course you
didn’t,” Blaise muttered with that deep, baritone growl of his. With an
irritated sigh, he pushed the book further away from him and threw his pen back
on the table. “I’m not,” he admitted reluctantly. “Not really.” He gave her a
sidelong glance and before she could take that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfect </i>opportunity he presented her with he snapped, “I’m
referring to being the science type, you idiot. It’s a passing interest,
nothing more.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6un2zmDZ6hC_eehwmtIk1aXJmARRHA-ibjmOTdfBBNQmmzuPSy5BRwWlehNoPZAZBBhuegM4Wa0uvJ3x9SOngAV6IEWJ9nK2sP1moF1ZGJBV2t4zTD4Ew-mtjSX2iVXT1EfLGj3zxvY/s1600/309.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6un2zmDZ6hC_eehwmtIk1aXJmARRHA-ibjmOTdfBBNQmmzuPSy5BRwWlehNoPZAZBBhuegM4Wa0uvJ3x9SOngAV6IEWJ9nK2sP1moF1ZGJBV2t4zTD4Ew-mtjSX2iVXT1EfLGj3zxvY/s640/309.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right,” Lyra agreed with a brow raised sceptically.
She held up the book, clearly showing the title. “Because reading about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quantum Genetics </i>is something everybody
does for fun,” she pointed out sarcastically.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Look, I don’t criticise
your hobbies, so don’t go around dissing mine,” he snapped at her. “I have some
very personal questions I want to find answers for, and if I have to read about
quantum genetics to find those answers, then I will bloody well do so.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra crossed her
arms, a little annoyed.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoKO1ihyFWJfHoAI80cT_hyZJrlNKBDtAQzpQgmLd4v_goTYpOVxlUcq9h3Za1TQV04tH5-kMoGQq23LS0F_QmV0TjoL1WaV9_9OTTcyCTJbvAkFZ_ZVudoQ320LkmP6ySdOCleucMUQ/s1600/309.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoKO1ihyFWJfHoAI80cT_hyZJrlNKBDtAQzpQgmLd4v_goTYpOVxlUcq9h3Za1TQV04tH5-kMoGQq23LS0F_QmV0TjoL1WaV9_9OTTcyCTJbvAkFZ_ZVudoQ320LkmP6ySdOCleucMUQ/s640/309.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you’re so passionate about it, then don’t
call it a ‘passing interest’,” she pointed out mulishly. “And I wasn’t
criticising you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“With you, who
the fuck knows,” Blaise muttered, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob,
</i>that stung. Something in her eyes must’ve betrayed her feelings, as Blaise
sighed and looked away, guiltily breaking eye-contact.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sorry,” he
apologised reluctantly. “That was uncalled for.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqYvPUUTnBkzUjIDK37SaWiNCmT1NgZSMCPj8FlhmUFLGSLhYQGpilq_7ao05ubz9n1rwpBDr7x5I_AI0y2DtSR3HHQEMrgnJKxS3_x7LEjIBVQE6JOHOqqCLguLr6CC6iyIf23kShjE/s1600/309.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqYvPUUTnBkzUjIDK37SaWiNCmT1NgZSMCPj8FlhmUFLGSLhYQGpilq_7ao05ubz9n1rwpBDr7x5I_AI0y2DtSR3HHQEMrgnJKxS3_x7LEjIBVQE6JOHOqqCLguLr6CC6iyIf23kShjE/s640/309.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Just a little</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, Lyra wanted
to agree, but didn’t, because he had a point. She was a naturally offensive
person, always fucking up relations by saying the wrong things at the wrong times,
and even when she tried <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>to, the
words always just…escaped from her mouth. She was painfully aware of it, and
yet it never seemed to help. Still, he didn’t need to be quite so blunt about
it.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“No, you’re
right,” she agreed numbly and returned to her default response of <i>running
away </i>whenever something upset her. Normally she would simply let criticism
slide off her back, but for some reason, because it was <i>Blaise </i>saying
those words, the critique hurt way more than it should. She hated to admit it,
but she’d grown quite close to him during the almost two years she’d been
living and training with him. “Sorry for bothering you. I’ll go now.” She was
halfway out of her chair when Blaise’s voice stopped her in her tracks.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjney3arw2TRyDj2UN0gGyZTKddgtvNWFV317YMQSe28_A6Ok2G_6pgFrs7iGRBNyJrqRb2LBWkWljGrNRNhnxQ1wVYzwIOy7rdLPjwDStIj5ZwCONJabsXIO2VjfRPgUtMG-A_pK7yXLM/s1600/309.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjney3arw2TRyDj2UN0gGyZTKddgtvNWFV317YMQSe28_A6Ok2G_6pgFrs7iGRBNyJrqRb2LBWkWljGrNRNhnxQ1wVYzwIOy7rdLPjwDStIj5ZwCONJabsXIO2VjfRPgUtMG-A_pK7yXLM/s640/309.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit</i>,”
he ordered, and she was so used to obeying his orders from their daily lessons
that she was down in her chair again almost before his words registered. He
sighed, and tugged at the dragon-wing hanging from his ear.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m trying to
figure out how it’s possible, from a scientific point of view, for Energetic
people to become Magical,” Blaise confessed reluctantly. “And I’m doing it not
because I’m interested, but because I’m trying to find <i>sense </i>in the
nonsense that’s magic. The entire universe is governed by laws, so <i>why </i>would
magic be different? <i>That’s </i>what I’m trying to find out.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It made sense,
Lyra supposed. Still…</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdj0JCXLOCYOK7W-sBmXetp2VqGZnILKw_soAAXR_DepKyCQ0yh9L43c3XCPTIho4xxDSBM0BPPu-t9yxXW6K_vIjkKD-ZickKbe1lgXp21KRx7U-YMedOpJNJTFqN77loaAn44o7_Bo/s1600/309.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdj0JCXLOCYOK7W-sBmXetp2VqGZnILKw_soAAXR_DepKyCQ0yh9L43c3XCPTIho4xxDSBM0BPPu-t9yxXW6K_vIjkKD-ZickKbe1lgXp21KRx7U-YMedOpJNJTFqN77loaAn44o7_Bo/s640/309.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, that explains the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quantum </i>part,” she agreed, silently accepting the peace-offering in
his words with a nod, allowing both of them to move on, “but why <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">genetics</i>?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise shrugged
unconcernedly. “When an Energetic person becomes Magical, does their DNA
change?” he asked rhetorically. “Is it a person’s genetics that determines
whether they’re born Magical or Energetic, or is it simply the presence of the
right Force?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Interesting questions, </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra
mused. She had certainly never thought about it, but now that she did…</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbILQXTwVytaE8k8vobKMCgDU9wKUOJt9Hlon_p4rb2QIolWE6GmtscfGIcZoen4HfXdvUEtgNBq3N7pG5HT_KJeTBng7m7pOmKU8yroX_H6_N1QFO8CZrRCCRSjZ6dAepwHO6-W-eJM/s1600/309.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbILQXTwVytaE8k8vobKMCgDU9wKUOJt9Hlon_p4rb2QIolWE6GmtscfGIcZoen4HfXdvUEtgNBq3N7pG5HT_KJeTBng7m7pOmKU8yroX_H6_N1QFO8CZrRCCRSjZ6dAepwHO6-W-eJM/s640/309.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…wouldn’t that
question ultimately explain why she had become an Anomaly? If it was simply the
presence of Magic or Energy that determined what a person’s nature would be…why
had Alison said she and her siblings were affected by the potion their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dad </i>drank? Genetics must definitely have
played a role.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And you can find
the answers to these questions in that book?” she asked, a little sceptical.
Blaise immediately huffed.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSPZovb_yyhfLC4puHdIfZzMGxrEW6XGFfkaGnlUSPa_Ds9VypbAZ2arvIQVWFDl5hA2M8uAks9QPnpMfJLAhVxXiOCfAe-SKOL2Yie7WnUokYYfOoWMouueJZ7R7ZR0t7sODNYTbtRk/s1600/309.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSPZovb_yyhfLC4puHdIfZzMGxrEW6XGFfkaGnlUSPa_Ds9VypbAZ2arvIQVWFDl5hA2M8uAks9QPnpMfJLAhVxXiOCfAe-SKOL2Yie7WnUokYYfOoWMouueJZ7R7ZR0t7sODNYTbtRk/s640/309.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Or course not,” he scoffed, “but it does give
an adequate explanation of the effect outside forces have –“</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sionann!” Adrian’s urgent voice suddenly
broke the carefree peace of their conversation, causing Blaise to bite off his
words mid-sentence. They both shot up from their chairs when they noticed what
had caused Adrian’s outburst. Sionann had collapsed, and Adrian held onto her
with urgent desperation.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRdEIaeXc8PriqVc3GEJYQgq4wtA9sxWtsKEodFg0H8TgeHlvc3dKagISbQ-38AM8xX3YJdgn61dk4yNxrzfHBGG4LkNJnAekifr2AycM4J1RKRoWSu9WtEuh5DK7whyphenhyphenJDVKclEaYpQ0/s1600/309.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRdEIaeXc8PriqVc3GEJYQgq4wtA9sxWtsKEodFg0H8TgeHlvc3dKagISbQ-38AM8xX3YJdgn61dk4yNxrzfHBGG4LkNJnAekifr2AycM4J1RKRoWSu9WtEuh5DK7whyphenhyphenJDVKclEaYpQ0/s640/309.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What happened?” Lyra asked concernedly, but
Adrian didn’t answer her. He simply <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">looked
</i>at Blaise with a wordless plea, causing Blaise to nod sharply and whistle,
the sound shrill in Lyra’s ears. The dragon napping on the couch immediately
responded, chirping and rising into the air before disappearing in the time it
took Lyra to blink.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“He’ll find
Alison,” Blaise promised Adrian.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann’s eyes
fluttered open and she weakly sat up, still held protectively in Adrian’s arms.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiC0455oIvymaNuy75wuw8ZtazUFZ2seskgJXciU69iBKcNJrEym7lBiDb-kz_5vj8AhkabjD0pHeZgegEOdK1hnAvDqNkpTHzWXPOj9PjHJRVfoTnL5hSugdK_iNIB7U8SOE-FJfn8Ho/s1600/309.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiC0455oIvymaNuy75wuw8ZtazUFZ2seskgJXciU69iBKcNJrEym7lBiDb-kz_5vj8AhkabjD0pHeZgegEOdK1hnAvDqNkpTHzWXPOj9PjHJRVfoTnL5hSugdK_iNIB7U8SOE-FJfn8Ho/s640/309.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assured them, her voice
a mere shade of her normal cheerful tone. “I just got a little dizzy, that’s
all.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Bullshit,”
Blaise retorted bluntly. “You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fainted</i>,
Sionann. That’s not just ‘a little dizzy’.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine</i>,” Sionann insisted, but a voice
behind Lyra disagreed.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQCAW-uT5bFhHDE6ysgRiKsjtrWmID_Vx0n7amuFG4Xdcy50mGgkWKJ4yEBKzkKmthgq-mqF4dwVQfYjHf-fqtg-X-7xdxY2FcobIiFAHcGSZ8ETpo8V5m8DcckmxntLxtb6YdPMxH_0/s1600/309.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQCAW-uT5bFhHDE6ysgRiKsjtrWmID_Vx0n7amuFG4Xdcy50mGgkWKJ4yEBKzkKmthgq-mqF4dwVQfYjHf-fqtg-X-7xdxY2FcobIiFAHcGSZ8ETpo8V5m8DcckmxntLxtb6YdPMxH_0/s640/309.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,
hmm?” Alison asked, and <i>holy shit</i>, when had she arrived? On her
shoulder, Blaise’s dragon gave a cheery little chirp before flying off. Before
Sionann could protest, Alison was on her knees beside the fairy, hands glowing
with that unnerving energy Lyra had learnt to recognise as magic.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Thank you for
coming, Lady Alison,” Adrian intoned gratefully. Alison hummed in agreement,
eyes still focused on the light radiating from her hands.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re all
valuable members of our community,” she stated before looking up at Adrian. “I
have no reason not to have come.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxvYt5mE2m1-X6Qmk0FOY-faf7vgDJpCHhm7TOzDxtgBETB5AE8_JEIG_SFcx0mkdaWpXQhrOEeLGq4epanQfBHnCzVBbIFeRLRoHKfUEa_s-KvNNOgjkI9pLs0ysfegtV_JjcKpNMFI/s1600/309.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxvYt5mE2m1-X6Qmk0FOY-faf7vgDJpCHhm7TOzDxtgBETB5AE8_JEIG_SFcx0mkdaWpXQhrOEeLGq4epanQfBHnCzVBbIFeRLRoHKfUEa_s-KvNNOgjkI9pLs0ysfegtV_JjcKpNMFI/s640/309.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, because we all know you have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing </i>to keep yourself busy with,”
Blaise muttered sarcastically, arms crossed across his chest and brow lowered
broodingly.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“The fact that
it’s my <i>son </i>calling for me might’ve had an influence, yes,” Alison
conceded, giving Blaise a stern stare. “I know you don’t think much of me,
Blaise, but I <i>am </i>still your mother.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And wow, Lyra
hadn’t known that. Blaise was Alison's son? She didn't look old enough to have <i>any
</i>children, let alone any that was Blaise's age.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4SVhCR_-4TPhTxUISyZBV1Fw36zPPo54Za-fM6p4GfFtq4PH81uMzD2hyphenhyphenethu3hTgvIq-7r0a1gx3FVi9551MMtn0qSqcxZgzkLQ6o7U3Qhz8WYFhg9dMleMMnUy9JDQEimKXnUzaBg/s1600/309.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4SVhCR_-4TPhTxUISyZBV1Fw36zPPo54Za-fM6p4GfFtq4PH81uMzD2hyphenhyphenethu3hTgvIq-7r0a1gx3FVi9551MMtn0qSqcxZgzkLQ6o7U3Qhz8WYFhg9dMleMMnUy9JDQEimKXnUzaBg/s640/309.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s wrong with her?” Blaise asked with a
jerk of his chin towards Sionann, abruptly changing the subject. </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Her magic’s
depleted, that’s all,” she declared matter-of-factly and turned towards
Sionann. “I’m afraid you’re up for some hard times ahead, child. Your baby’s
magic isn’t compatible with yours.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann turned
pale and her hand immediately flew towards her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">barely-</i>there baby bump. On her other hand, Adrian’s grip visibly
tightened.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Its magic isn’t
compatible?” she asked worriedly. “Does that mean I’m going to lose my baby?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm69o3uKzjKH_fYWWCHwtzsNLkdMk-HR00YmE43v22YYyzSwFJVu0D2DoYiLpvaYIRb-6nZ_vxakN44-3UBby2M-Yb7pNi2ZGpItir1AIva23dKAnz2W83qXTdcJ1C1FfyMaZC9P2YHDU/s1600/309.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm69o3uKzjKH_fYWWCHwtzsNLkdMk-HR00YmE43v22YYyzSwFJVu0D2DoYiLpvaYIRb-6nZ_vxakN44-3UBby2M-Yb7pNi2ZGpItir1AIva23dKAnz2W83qXTdcJ1C1FfyMaZC9P2YHDU/s640/309.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you’re careful, abstain from using magic
and get lots of rest, there’s no reason your baby won’t be fine,” Alison
assured the worried parents-to-be. “Your baby is strong and healthy, Sionann. <i>You’re
</i>the one whose health is going to suffer. This baby is going to be a
constant drain on your magic, so you're going to need a lot of sleep and as
little stress as possible. I would also advise you to stay away from any
foreign or strong magic.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise's brow
sank even lower at the words, something Lyra hadn't thought was possible.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">"'Strong
magic'?" he quoted with a dangerous note in his voice. "Like the
Barrier, perhaps? You know they’re leaving on Friday.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison sighed and
gracefully stood up, pursing her lips in displeasure.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHObvtwMlTlxHfhlwlprYvYb9a5FGCF7JyfzEKAi6bsEtz51WrmkDNGA1-EWDImdh3GEYppDqoqr4ttjLui8bWa_ZmxQY8Yxvrnb-HEqZfm83m4NVOUn9JZEzoOVckXd1bNievT1ccdnk/s1600/309.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHObvtwMlTlxHfhlwlprYvYb9a5FGCF7JyfzEKAi6bsEtz51WrmkDNGA1-EWDImdh3GEYppDqoqr4ttjLui8bWa_ZmxQY8Yxvrnb-HEqZfm83m4NVOUn9JZEzoOVckXd1bNievT1ccdnk/s640/309.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I would very much prefer it if you leave the
island,” Alison admitted, agreeing with Blaise, but still addressing Sionann,
“but like my son concluded, the magic of the Barrier will not be beneficial for
you. I think it’ll be better if you stay here until your child is born. I will
not advise you to cross the Barrier at this stage.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian gently
picked Sionann up to help her onto the chair, seeing as Alison was done
diagnosing the fairy, and frowned slightly at the warning.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5fGfiu82hFvSQtSTrt5iv7PEDfiYDTGzli5Sh4wb9GQTUZTr9Mzk9a7Jet8F3F2DtustrTR7AdYlb6Haykhox030hGI17-xvv-rM4EIDtylQNAY3d-126Xk88nNaJIFXXA3cgS32z0w/s1600/309.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5fGfiu82hFvSQtSTrt5iv7PEDfiYDTGzli5Sh4wb9GQTUZTr9Mzk9a7Jet8F3F2DtustrTR7AdYlb6Haykhox030hGI17-xvv-rM4EIDtylQNAY3d-126Xk88nNaJIFXXA3cgS32z0w/s640/309.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You really think
she’ll be safe enough here?” he asked worriedly.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison hummed
noncommittally. “Safe enough,” she concurred. “It’s only until the baby is
born, and if she stays here in the house until then, she’ll be perfectly safe.
If you’re still worried though, I can lay some protective wards around the
property to reinforce your own ones.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BeQh15gD6PxWCMW4QwgbJ0AfNbXCvrhRMuqlRImNjiR-pNRO3UU0zxCPWM-DEQq8_PT3E7VJ_8U9MAe_ay1HhS1AtrEcCxMZT96z1n1Aen8Y8O7HjV9s9S3nn0tejNuelWhm_aVLJ_I/s1600/309.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BeQh15gD6PxWCMW4QwgbJ0AfNbXCvrhRMuqlRImNjiR-pNRO3UU0zxCPWM-DEQq8_PT3E7VJ_8U9MAe_ay1HhS1AtrEcCxMZT96z1n1Aen8Y8O7HjV9s9S3nn0tejNuelWhm_aVLJ_I/s640/309.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Some of the
tension in Blaise’s shoulders dissipated at Alison’s offer. Adrian looked down
at Sionann, eyebrows lifted in a wordless question. She smiled at him and gave
his hand a reassuring squeeze.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Whatever you
believe is best, Lady Alison,” she agreed easily.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Alison had
definitely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>been exaggerating when
she’d told Sionann the pregnancy would be difficult. The normally cheerful
fairy was completely listless, unable to summon the energy to do even the most
basic of tasks. Everybody else took on the different house chores, trying to
reduce her burdens as much as possible, but everybody could see she was going
through a hard time. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It left a
slightly frizzled feel in the house, and between Sionann’s listless
helplessness, Adrian’s badly-hidden concern and Blaise’s impatient irritation
at the fact he couldn’t do more to help his two closest friends, Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>couldn’t wait for the baby to be
born and for things to return to if not normal, at least semi-normality.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpyRtB-PAlwLhWMoypAxe149WHMyYD4foVYvUt-Ca3cQ6V2EwYZDICtjsoEgMBviXGGwdmV0kPLvZLgllKKnawzbccJ6t6qYiN6xV6OT2CJkZpmepf1HHVuqrdFb_YhXZmJWcPozZQD8/s1600/309.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpyRtB-PAlwLhWMoypAxe149WHMyYD4foVYvUt-Ca3cQ6V2EwYZDICtjsoEgMBviXGGwdmV0kPLvZLgllKKnawzbccJ6t6qYiN6xV6OT2CJkZpmepf1HHVuqrdFb_YhXZmJWcPozZQD8/s640/309.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It all just
served to cement Lyra’s absolute determination not to have any children, ever.
She would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>be able to go through
the torment Sionann was going through, but the fairy remained enthusiastically
excited over her pregnancy.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Despite all the
change, the extra work and the bad weather, Lyra and Blaise’s daily training
sessions still continued religiously. Adrian no longer participated in the
Hunt, unwilling to cause more stress to Sionann, so Blaise was out of the house
more often, filling the gap Adrian’s absence left, but he still took the time
to continue Lyra’s lessons. It was a piece of normality Lyra was very grateful
about.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqFq13MSCRBlz24dTX77k111QJcKv6bNQG61gDzySzjSm67XRDBmBAhIvg2Onn7ormwylQc8BSsO76TfxO4Nan-gfadtjjQiW4jimWE_Mg5xcGdfKZFW3xIx-YTBhBoFVyEW2v9i-_8Q/s1600/309.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqFq13MSCRBlz24dTX77k111QJcKv6bNQG61gDzySzjSm67XRDBmBAhIvg2Onn7ormwylQc8BSsO76TfxO4Nan-gfadtjjQiW4jimWE_Mg5xcGdfKZFW3xIx-YTBhBoFVyEW2v9i-_8Q/s640/309.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Today was a
self-defence day, and a spar day on top of that. A shiver of excitement ran
down Lyra’s spine at the thought. She had improved with leaps and bounds since
she’d first started with her training, but sparring with Blaise was still just
as exhilarating as it had been in the beginning. In fact, she might even be
willing to admit it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better </i>now
that she could semi-keep up with him.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">One of these days
she’d be able to get a clean hit on him, and the corner of his mouth would lift
with that ridiculous self-satisfied smile, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shit, </i>Lyra shouldn’t be so excited by the prospect, but dammit, she
was. She’d do anything to see that smile. Then again, he was just as
competitive as she was, so maybe that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wouldn’t
</i>be his reaction, but Plumbob, it would feel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so good </i>to get a victory over him.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF_IDKMT5uP1_ZKrNvxI4QseLdWRvuCEmW_O8PDxzeVvIR6tJbDu2yUI-kdYDSnvDK1AfzT2SZL-XbLP41HOcvAmHeXOzqd9S-3Jt-GzJq0N-Il_E55VnNzIjne8i8x_k9neMkvHCRvo/s1600/309.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF_IDKMT5uP1_ZKrNvxI4QseLdWRvuCEmW_O8PDxzeVvIR6tJbDu2yUI-kdYDSnvDK1AfzT2SZL-XbLP41HOcvAmHeXOzqd9S-3Jt-GzJq0N-Il_E55VnNzIjne8i8x_k9neMkvHCRvo/s640/309.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>hoped today would be that day.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He regarded her
with brooding eyes, a bored slant on his mouth. He still carried that
self-conscious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">confidence </i>in himself,
like he knew he had the skills to tackle anything that attempted to take him
on. Just once, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just once</i>, Lyra would
like it if he could take her serious. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always
</i>regarded her with that bored attitude, and Lyra seriously just wanted to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wipe it off his face</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He rolled his
neck and shoulders in his normal pre-spar routine and then he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moved</i>. In the beginning, the mere speed
with which he moved had been enough to throw Lyra off, but now she could keep
up with him without effort.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQ1bmjQ16GqFjDCK6He2s3We4m1Z2oNwJkHijd6HisBvmkOIFIs0rKujenjm4fG9joPJ-LKNIcuzkoztOoYiW7fi5RnKrYOrKgh0-bP48O8D56oB48woidVjIEf7vAbwCNcbyu_sx7V0/s1600/309.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQ1bmjQ16GqFjDCK6He2s3We4m1Z2oNwJkHijd6HisBvmkOIFIs0rKujenjm4fG9joPJ-LKNIcuzkoztOoYiW7fi5RnKrYOrKgh0-bP48O8D56oB48woidVjIEf7vAbwCNcbyu_sx7V0/s640/309.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They exchanged
blow for blow, neither managing to break the other’s defence, and they danced
around each other at an impasse for the majority of the spar. He baited her
with openings she never took, and she challenged him with a lithe gracefulness
his sheer bulk simply couldn’t keep up with. It was exhilaration in a way she
couldn’t get enough of, and this, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>,
was what she lived for.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Then, for a
fraction of a second she spotted an opening without the tell-tale signs of
baiting and she moved before she even finished the thought, overtaken by sheer
instinct and muscle memory, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">holy
shit, she was in his space, forcing him to back away, and this was it, she was
going to win – </i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He flowed around
her and in a split second their positions were reversed, and she was once again
pinned against the wall in a way that was becoming <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">far </i>too common.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjw5cAqrkQfj2oNKCSnxvj3DQElNHHCziBuVu7OKeLUv0SDEWGHFx0ZP-z8y07xoI0LyK9mUifTKV96F1XO6Il1qKMMebfvevzYAMkGiC1D6qv5uqlC0WSssjvPAh3X4L_PSDkQ0Z5bgw/s1600/309.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjw5cAqrkQfj2oNKCSnxvj3DQElNHHCziBuVu7OKeLUv0SDEWGHFx0ZP-z8y07xoI0LyK9mUifTKV96F1XO6Il1qKMMebfvevzYAMkGiC1D6qv5uqlC0WSssjvPAh3X4L_PSDkQ0Z5bgw/s640/309.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A tense silence
fell around them as they glared at each other, their heavy breathing filling
the air. Lyra lifted her chin challengingly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daring </i>him to deny her almost-success as she met his eyes without
embarrassment.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t ever get
over-confident,” he growled menacingly at her, the sound coupled with his
proximity sending sparks down her spine, as normal. She lifted her chin just
that fraction more, unwilling to submit, even if he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>have a point, biting at her lip and –</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His pupils
dilated.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and suddenly, without warning, he kissed her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The kiss just as
demanding and unrelenting as his personality, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">holy freaking hell</i>, it was every bit as good as Lyra had always
thought it would be. She closed her eyes and submitted into the kiss, overtaken
by the sensation and loving every second about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVwA-A_gyeW5UOauqZ24JAn3Unva2Lv9YsBQ0XcTf4L-wr4-RUdClT6ha3vpHrvAw3vBqLEVAYcEtyqkKld7suG4iNmR-lHZRcTXfc3CTm7V963Tk-odONnx-SUzIdPgQsbCCpH4R23c/s1600/309.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVwA-A_gyeW5UOauqZ24JAn3Unva2Lv9YsBQ0XcTf4L-wr4-RUdClT6ha3vpHrvAw3vBqLEVAYcEtyqkKld7suG4iNmR-lHZRcTXfc3CTm7V963Tk-odONnx-SUzIdPgQsbCCpH4R23c/s640/309.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She’d always
thought Edwin was a good kisser, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob,
</i>he could never even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hope </i>to
compare with Blaise. The difference between them was so vast that if Edwin was
good, Blaise was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">master</i>. Edwin had
been a good way to experiment and find out what she liked, but with Blaise she
didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to experiment, because
somehow, he was managing to push all her buttons without trying.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He growled
impatiently, and she could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel </i>the
vibration through his lips, and oh. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh. </i>What
had she been thinking about? She couldn’t remember. All thoughts had left her
mind at that moment.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He pulled away,
and she couldn’t quite suppress a sound of disappointment at the loss. He
looked at her with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide and breathing heavily, his
breath misting in the cold.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OWjT4uD05-j5rfCxh40C0HHycKByTMhVWtBmKBAFkV6LH6ZzNkO9XLPK5R8HpWS_7QRH8oJUPVJIJehemL3zeXEJGbQ_oHUiAa-lATld-bO7Rreru3-oyZSHCgizSZbtufm_TaRoXMw/s1600/309.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OWjT4uD05-j5rfCxh40C0HHycKByTMhVWtBmKBAFkV6LH6ZzNkO9XLPK5R8HpWS_7QRH8oJUPVJIJehemL3zeXEJGbQ_oHUiAa-lATld-bO7Rreru3-oyZSHCgizSZbtufm_TaRoXMw/s640/309.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You,” he breathed accusingly, his lips pulled
into a snarl, “are gonna be my death. Do you have any idea how hard it is to
hold myself back when you challenge me like that?”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And wow, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">freaking hell, </i>what a revelation that
was. She had had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no idea </i>he was as
attracted to her as she was to him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, then don’t
hold back,” she ordered, meeting his eyes challengingly, and with another
growl, he lowered his head and unhesitatingly obeyed her command.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBouvnCm2Mi6jffH3oieawC2_7ouRtHW0qEFlboCQ1Cjd5DKDlsT9R61FGgHzvpK1X4jl2j6mkbWeoA567uyK8sNJubXGrAyuYK4fT4Z3Tr8Gc_Sn4yjLRZwD7PuaoXxXoBA6nhk7iHM/s1600/309.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBouvnCm2Mi6jffH3oieawC2_7ouRtHW0qEFlboCQ1Cjd5DKDlsT9R61FGgHzvpK1X4jl2j6mkbWeoA567uyK8sNJubXGrAyuYK4fT4Z3Tr8Gc_Sn4yjLRZwD7PuaoXxXoBA6nhk7iHM/s640/309.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And the second
time was every bit as good as the first.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Things had
changed, absolutely and undeniably, between her and Blaise. That kiss against
the wall had changed the dynamic between them irrevocably, and Lyra wasn’t
quite sure what she thought about it. Oh, don’t get her wrong, she was
absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crazy </i>over how forward<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>he suddenly was with her, and she would
not deny that both their inhibitions seemed to have disappeared with the wind,
and she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could not get enough </i>of his
kisses, but…</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ftJAUF9KeKC0AvESNg_tRfPyOadLpSIXtnecbicXR68N8A_VS1rFzrTqwmQxGaaf4odxU3SCY9McYKODvtibHcd1MlGI4SvPuRAAKn8uDIj2pVa7ZfBMOkKuzVn4PUg3iTYiUtBi6fk/s1600/309.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ftJAUF9KeKC0AvESNg_tRfPyOadLpSIXtnecbicXR68N8A_VS1rFzrTqwmQxGaaf4odxU3SCY9McYKODvtibHcd1MlGI4SvPuRAAKn8uDIj2pVa7ZfBMOkKuzVn4PUg3iTYiUtBi6fk/s640/309.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Well. She had no
idea how to label this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing </i>that was
between them. It wasn’t love, and it wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dating,
</i>but…it sure as hell wasn’t ‘friends’ anymore. It wasn’t even ‘friends with
benefits’. It was something else, something <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i>,
but she couldn’t define it. She wasn’t his girlfriend, and he wasn’t her
boyfriend, but…they were undeniably <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">involved</i>
with each other. There was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">passion</i>
between them and they kissed each other senseless whenever they found the time
and privacy, but…there was no sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you’re
mine</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was simply
kissing and making out, and maybe a little bit of groping. Nothing more,
nothing less. She could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>figure
out what to make of it.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGTjjdnlIFIF48MK39xaALKvjrIEamesrkuOgcBqtqh3PulYO_NW1ipq2HBkR9chK6ygmOWmuHBFGh4LIaCZX-s_QaKpY7BnDZvoCtrwAITfVvHTmktKWdtd6Q2MVSNdWAsokGm08Yss/s1600/309.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGTjjdnlIFIF48MK39xaALKvjrIEamesrkuOgcBqtqh3PulYO_NW1ipq2HBkR9chK6ygmOWmuHBFGh4LIaCZX-s_QaKpY7BnDZvoCtrwAITfVvHTmktKWdtd6Q2MVSNdWAsokGm08Yss/s640/309.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Was that all he
wanted from her? Was that all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>wanted
from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>? She didn’t really want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">date </i>him, but was sex really all she
wanted from him? And yes, despite the fact that it hadn’t happened yet, there
was no denying that ‘yet’. Each time they kissed things grew hotter and heavier
and only an absolute <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">idiot </i>would deny
that one of these days they were going to get into bed with each other, and she
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also </i>wouldn’t lie to herself by
saying she didn’t want it, because she did. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely </i>wanted it.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…But was that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>she wanted? She didn’t know. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>, he confused her. At least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>hadn’t changed.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfFR_jDbUYsZlCw7wkF7DHrsbZ1qtvjqrXV2gM03neaisE272wOMQYwi_TkZTuNHqi6AQVf4J-UwODn_yJJ8EmoosFgejrSMRIG04rdfanENtkv1Rz6pH5GB0i1OzyCNOfL8pKDcVyYc/s1600/309.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfFR_jDbUYsZlCw7wkF7DHrsbZ1qtvjqrXV2gM03neaisE272wOMQYwi_TkZTuNHqi6AQVf4J-UwODn_yJJ8EmoosFgejrSMRIG04rdfanENtkv1Rz6pH5GB0i1OzyCNOfL8pKDcVyYc/s640/309.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">But right now, at
this moment, she didn’t care about any of that. She was firmly living in the
now and here, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here </i>involved kissing Blaise as much as
she could while they had the house sort of to themselves. Sionann was sleeping,
tired out by her pregnancy that was well into the second trimester by now, and
Adrian was out at the base, waiting for the latest shipment of necessities to
arrive. For about one <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blissful </i>hour
it was just her and Blaise, so they were taking full advantage of the time
available to them.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Things were just
starting to get interesting when the door opened, a sound Lyra was only vaguely
aware of, too absorbed in the sensations of the activity she was participating
in.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJ2OsxTVCP1WvDKS-nh0xdf5ZKgGhhZgQNPKDuwdHl-2GF3BKHeCqzNXnOAh_tq1ywbN6RTApuqCztI-5hwPvwzFKH7jRs7Sx-vBsgx1XSbgxp_WNfcj1DJEbUskghHPZR1qCMsZmYPQ/s1600/309.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJ2OsxTVCP1WvDKS-nh0xdf5ZKgGhhZgQNPKDuwdHl-2GF3BKHeCqzNXnOAh_tq1ywbN6RTApuqCztI-5hwPvwzFKH7jRs7Sx-vBsgx1XSbgxp_WNfcj1DJEbUskghHPZR1qCMsZmYPQ/s640/309.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Several moments
later Blaise pulled away from her, but his hold on her back was still strong
and possessive, a clear sign that he, too, hadn’t had enough.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Is there
something you want, Adrian?” he growled at his best friend, who Lyra belatedly
realised, was staring at them with an utterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">amused </i>expression on his face. Lyra immediately drew away from
Blaise, feeling a little bit like a child who’d been caught with their hand in
the cookie jar. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>, this was
embarrassing. She wasn’t even sure Adrian <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew
</i>about her and Blaise…yeah. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just a
little bit awkward</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLZroAVg1th9zaSQXNra1YtkFJViF-gvKCLHN_6yBzNu8yiAW-lG5vDZIfyGx1mdC68Xg-bmZXkkGMs1YqM2hagu3ARjmSXtkXw3iypPbskwmRR0DdkYl6qy7VThwmydqhORkq30z6NE/s1600/309.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLZroAVg1th9zaSQXNra1YtkFJViF-gvKCLHN_6yBzNu8yiAW-lG5vDZIfyGx1mdC68Xg-bmZXkkGMs1YqM2hagu3ARjmSXtkXw3iypPbskwmRR0DdkYl6qy7VThwmydqhORkq30z6NE/s640/309.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, by all means, don’t stop on my accord,”
Adrian teased good-naturedly. “You two seem quite comfortable. I’ll just head
to the kitchen and unpack these groceries, while you two continue to amuse
yourself. But really, you might want to consider a bedroom.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise rolled his
eyes and released his hold on Lyra’s back, finally allowing her to flip herself
off him. She immediately scrambled to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get
away</i>, but he moved his hand to her thigh, his grip keeping her firmly in
place.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Piss off</i>,” he ordered Adrian with a
snarl of his lips, but his body was relaxed, and despite the content, his words
held no real bite. Adrian simply chuckled at him, clearly used to Blaise’s
mannerisms and moved to the kitchen like he’d promised.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rQpyVtmx1ZkaBcypmXNxMKx6TAR-a0D_rJZH0XygsUqVwvT2ACOUNqrUDG2qZsg4F1DimjqZqXay6ElSVejkR5xVK2t7XRtXmiiPTG8jjrW4sGTAzy1WOWkhvf8ppdMwVEgzhNu522k/s1600/309.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1rQpyVtmx1ZkaBcypmXNxMKx6TAR-a0D_rJZH0XygsUqVwvT2ACOUNqrUDG2qZsg4F1DimjqZqXay6ElSVejkR5xVK2t7XRtXmiiPTG8jjrW4sGTAzy1WOWkhvf8ppdMwVEgzhNu522k/s640/309.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra sighed and
flipped her head to rest on the back of the couch. There was no way they’d be
able to continue now. Blaise realised it as well, as he growled lightly and
gave her thigh a squeeze before he stood up and stalked off towards the kitchen
to give Adrian a hand. Adrian simply chuckled when he noticed Blaise, shifting
slightly away to provide him access to the groceries.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, by the way,
Lyra, I found something at the base you might like,” Adrian informed Lyra,
causing her to look curiously at him. He rummaged in one of the bags in front
of him and withdrew something Lyra hadn’t seem in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ages</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31uM8BzNRXAF4h7HHsSHOcKeJ6I6OIru3fWLrV9ajWkhw8IoOfsUKClEJCN-5oKLjt8_l5aA9tOzGdYXZDJJ9jmPk4sktmLO_slAwwWJp2dRBPJdVDqTOQcngvf-ESH2CVsKjYmw30uM/s1600/309.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31uM8BzNRXAF4h7HHsSHOcKeJ6I6OIru3fWLrV9ajWkhw8IoOfsUKClEJCN-5oKLjt8_l5aA9tOzGdYXZDJJ9jmPk4sktmLO_slAwwWJp2dRBPJdVDqTOQcngvf-ESH2CVsKjYmw30uM/s640/309.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a camera.
Sure, it was one of those crappy tourist ones, the kind that had no adjustable
settings except flash, but it was still the most magnificent thing she’d seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all day</i>. She hadn’t even realised how
much she’d missed her photography until she saw the crappy thing. Sure, it
wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>camera, the one that been
so valuable to her not only for its capability, but also for its pure <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sentimental </i>value, but…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it was still a camera</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She immediately
vaulted out of her seat and walked towards the crappy thing. She picked it up
and held it almost reverently. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She had
her photography back</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian laughed,
probably at the expression on her face, and she wasted absolutely no time in pointing
the thing at him and taking a shot, and hearing that shutter click was absolutely
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">heavenly</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6841sztkzgKwG5s7wPeGYRNG8OouLn7cDBK5BijfKpiPNMfWKA0NPI7FnX5ly_b3Y8V4O8f5IasT1E04f1ngnxnYSjoO3cmXwrYTCEtifaJJcd30GavFfICYTu4GLtjHjjN5SjSogUQ/s1600/309.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6841sztkzgKwG5s7wPeGYRNG8OouLn7cDBK5BijfKpiPNMfWKA0NPI7FnX5ly_b3Y8V4O8f5IasT1E04f1ngnxnYSjoO3cmXwrYTCEtifaJJcd30GavFfICYTu4GLtjHjjN5SjSogUQ/s640/309.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She knew she was
acting uncharacteristically, but she just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so
damn happy</i>, she didn’t give a damn.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Welcome home,
Adrian,” Sionann said from the corridor, a happy little smile on her face, and
everybody turned their attention to her. The nap seemed to have done wonders
for her, as she looked relaxed and happy, and there was a little bit of colour
back in her cheeks. It made such a beautiful picture that Lyra immediately took
a shot of her as well. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann opened
her mouth to say something, but her expression turned into one of shocked
wonder and she turned her attention to her baby bump.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35A2pWcjVMBL_3MXlu3NZUDIjbi3RgfGmxb1_yguwraArwIRU1brW5Itvyc-sAE9VTtyB-b0XNqX9G50n_FV6Ya3xo8Ka3LA1IrBci4tAhdkvxwcL-Er1IjKeZKOL0mJ46O0M3b_TWz8/s1600/309.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35A2pWcjVMBL_3MXlu3NZUDIjbi3RgfGmxb1_yguwraArwIRU1brW5Itvyc-sAE9VTtyB-b0XNqX9G50n_FV6Ya3xo8Ka3LA1IrBci4tAhdkvxwcL-Er1IjKeZKOL0mJ46O0M3b_TWz8/s640/309.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh,” she murmured delightedly and looked up
at them. “He just kicked.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian’s
expression lit up at that titbit of information and he immediately went over to
her, giving her shoulder a chaste kiss and laying his hand on her baby bump.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Click</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">. Lyra took the
photo. Those kinds of personal candid shots were her favourite, and even if the
camera was a crappy little thing, it still managed to capture the moment
without fail.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise lifted an
eyebrow at Sionann. “’He’?” he repeated. “You’re having a boy?”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8BhDt8klQTuwj4yqBiYRj_MHMQGPyR0Uxyx89veRHPe9CuAUy5nuO8TB8dKHl89k-EBfe7CimCc_D4gIH_xoohYmcB5iJhDS4QeS4G5_pifOo8ponUzwVPrUAn2IFeU5UkeaErs1YV84/s1600/309.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8BhDt8klQTuwj4yqBiYRj_MHMQGPyR0Uxyx89veRHPe9CuAUy5nuO8TB8dKHl89k-EBfe7CimCc_D4gIH_xoohYmcB5iJhDS4QeS4G5_pifOo8ponUzwVPrUAn2IFeU5UkeaErs1YV84/s640/309.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann nodded
happily. “Yes,” she confirmed with a content smile. “I know Lady Alison said I
should refrain from magic, but the gender determination spell is such a small
one and I simply couldn’t resist. It’s a boy.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We’ve actually
known for a while,” Adrian admitted with a sheepish laugh. He wiped a piece of
Sionann’s hair out of her face, an absolutely tender look on his face. “Sionann
wanted to start discussing names, and she was adamant to know the gender before
we started. She didn’t want to, and I quote, ‘do twice the amount of work when
once will do.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So you’ve decided on a name then?” Lyra asked
curiously. Sionann’s smile softened, and she wrapped her arm around Adrian.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_-gk4CTmhx28QkIEzrMutn6E5hDns8zW1CPMGAnmlg6jny3ZPkgLwXBYdqQ6eErlzhmbhO9QbRub5O6_O7Ekvz8_mCqPCoUCkuIqdnDIMfZRlpRvu7eemZbFdgm4DtGJFypAjilwAKk/s1600/309.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_-gk4CTmhx28QkIEzrMutn6E5hDns8zW1CPMGAnmlg6jny3ZPkgLwXBYdqQ6eErlzhmbhO9QbRub5O6_O7Ekvz8_mCqPCoUCkuIqdnDIMfZRlpRvu7eemZbFdgm4DtGJFypAjilwAKk/s640/309.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Reagan,” she
confirmed, “meaning, ‘little king’. He might have been a bit of a surprise, but
he’s going to be our little king, so he needs a name to honour that. The whole
world will be his kingdom, and we will do absolutely everything we can to
ensure he has the most amazing life possible.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She smiled up at
Adrian, her face lit with pure, innocent <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">happiness</i>,
and once again, Lyra simply couldn’t resist.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Click.</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And another
moment was immortalised in time.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: I know
there’s no such thing as a ‘gender determination’ spell in the game, but there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>MasterController…XD I like to know
the genders beforehand, so I normally take a peek. That’s not really cheating,
is it?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Reagan was
actually supposed to be born this chapter, but there are certain other scenes
that need to happen first and I’ve already ran out of space in this chapter to
include those scenes (damn you Blaise – you weren’t supposed to kiss Lyra yet!),
so he’ll be born in the next chapter. He’s already born in-game. :)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Oh yeah, almost
forgot to mention. In case it wasn’t obvious, the Secondary Career has been
revealed: Freelance Scientist. </span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-15116038364133635702017-10-10T08:15:00.000+02:002017-10-10T08:15:52.346+02:00Chapter 3.08 - Instincts<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian and
Sionann’s wedding was unlike any wedding Lyra had ever seen before. It was
nothing like the exorbitant affairs Lyra had photographed, or the traditional
event her own spectacular failure of a wedding had been. When Lyra thought of
weddings, she always thought of the same themes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Classy venues.
White or cream dresses. Bridesmaids and flower-girls and groomsmen and
ring-bearers. Veils.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann and
Adrian’s wedding had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">none </i>of that.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtl1MAt_MGbdc3ynVaFQw4miSgLNQeGfGRWtN6uQbvpRiMowfZX2BD95m6m5xQ2vU_TDJrSnV8gZ7C-R6EBj8ctJ_MOf_OWbKFXRNHXX67c8n4dmfpI2uuhegCONtGdILqSuuontIfym8/s1600/308.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtl1MAt_MGbdc3ynVaFQw4miSgLNQeGfGRWtN6uQbvpRiMowfZX2BD95m6m5xQ2vU_TDJrSnV8gZ7C-R6EBj8ctJ_MOf_OWbKFXRNHXX67c8n4dmfpI2uuhegCONtGdILqSuuontIfym8/s640/308.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The wedding was
held outdoors, with nothing but nature around them. The only two people who
were dressed up were the bride and groom. Sionann wore her hair loose, flowers skilfully
tucked amongst the strands, and she was wearing a green dress, cut the typical
style Lyra had always imagined fairies would wear in, well, fairy-tales. Adrian
too wasn’t wearing a typical traditional suit, clad instead in shades of green
and white, cut in a decidedly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">non-</i>traditional
style. The two arrived hand-in-hand with each other, and the guests formed a
circle around them, the fairies amongst them dancing and singing in some
obscure language Lyra couldn’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">begin
</i>to decipher. Not a single guest wore shoes, and neither did Adrian.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Above them, the
clouds were dark and heavy, but quiet. Not a single drop fell.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqyarRnLCHAG2cHlpSUPRR8O-e-v2Ds5xOZQsmtZ3OapIMZxBccD0O-J9toLcNx3I2f1Oe6JFK891ildWPVIzl6uAGrRtZPVbAnFUxkPKtuSVJ-gWnWURANMt1YC9bPidbjRmRzhZ8o4/s1600/308.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqyarRnLCHAG2cHlpSUPRR8O-e-v2Ds5xOZQsmtZ3OapIMZxBccD0O-J9toLcNx3I2f1Oe6JFK891ildWPVIzl6uAGrRtZPVbAnFUxkPKtuSVJ-gWnWURANMt1YC9bPidbjRmRzhZ8o4/s640/308.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The singing and
dancing of the fairies formed an alien rhythm that resounded in Lyra’s bones
and resonated deep in her chest. It filled the entire clearing, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>about the whole affair was
off, like Lyra’s perception of the world had shifted a fraction of a degree,
causing every detail to stand out in sharp and vivid clarity. She felt hot, her
heart <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">racing</i>, and her thoughts
skittered all over the place, an overwhelming joy rising deep inside her heart.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A hand fell on
her wrist, startling her out of her confusing reverie. She tilted her head up,
staring at Blaise and meeting his overly blue eyes. He, too, was barefoot.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs7TvE9CWa3cBnDeIYAfryLOS9Lm6At0174sE-EgkbY9A1gooX67cvnoUa0sQWfwcG1bq1P-axe1MJX2mhJf_-QAqTI6eYo5pb2jtrqXejZJKyqKaEWTk7mqYx5guKtWXg_au7PUb3M4/s1600/308.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs7TvE9CWa3cBnDeIYAfryLOS9Lm6At0174sE-EgkbY9A1gooX67cvnoUa0sQWfwcG1bq1P-axe1MJX2mhJf_-QAqTI6eYo5pb2jtrqXejZJKyqKaEWTk7mqYx5guKtWXg_au7PUb3M4/s640/308.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t fight the magic,” he murmured in her
ear, his breath cold against her flushed skin. She gazed at him with dazed
eyes. Why hadn’t she ever realized how beautiful he was?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her feet felt
warm, and tight. What were her shoes doing on her feet? They needed to come <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">off</i>. Her feet were aching to feel the
grass and bare soil beneath her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t question,
just obey,” Blaise coaxed her again. “Laugh, enjoy, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel</i>. Be joyous. Let the magic guide you.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIQIRg-TbiA6kqTLZerWDivGvoRGrEOtGzRAcpivU0DPkxMo2Dzp1A14T5P2MAzXo8rp4tqB1YvK97nCDv4QweM-WukJrNHucLxwrMUUqKz6AEsSXUWkbd4iv9A1tDYfncnVw5jBweiI/s1600/308.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIQIRg-TbiA6kqTLZerWDivGvoRGrEOtGzRAcpivU0DPkxMo2Dzp1A14T5P2MAzXo8rp4tqB1YvK97nCDv4QweM-WukJrNHucLxwrMUUqKz6AEsSXUWkbd4iv9A1tDYfncnVw5jBweiI/s640/308.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Her fingers
fumbled on the straps of her shoes. They had to come off, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>. She breathed heavily as she struggled with her shoes, her
senseless fingers slipping on the slender straps. The relief she felt when she
finally got them off and buried her toes in the soft green grass was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">indescribable. </i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Around her, the
singing of the fairies got louder, and their dancing got wilder. Spinning
around and around, they kept singing in that oddly harmonic language, stomping
out a rhythmic beat into the ground. Sionann’s silver laughter rang out amongst
them, and she spun Adrian around in time with the music. He, too, was laughing,
and the sound caused Lyra’s heart to sing in happiness.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">This isn’t normal</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn148t9A4emUDyerNz32G0hyphenhyphen3VzKdBZDL9DzMQvcY2kJgy71zOTs6Skxz75Hiruv202pSSyHCTQD7Z9LkRXFSKOqXg7YQzjmBaQqQbqlhFqW0iTOCe98X5wI_U5LcGcwNIs4e_qHJcG58/s1600/308.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn148t9A4emUDyerNz32G0hyphenhyphen3VzKdBZDL9DzMQvcY2kJgy71zOTs6Skxz75Hiruv202pSSyHCTQD7Z9LkRXFSKOqXg7YQzjmBaQqQbqlhFqW0iTOCe98X5wI_U5LcGcwNIs4e_qHJcG58/s640/308.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Again, Blaise
touched her, this time on her waist and shoulder.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t fight,</i>” he ordered again. “The
fairies are enacting the binding, and what you’re feeling is the magic guiding
you to perform your part, as witness. Just let the magic flow through you, and
listen to what your instincts tell you to do.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She turned her
eyes back to Blaise, blinking dazedly at him, trying to get her thoughts back
in order. Her heart leaped in her chest, and her lips tugged into a broad
smile, against her will, but she didn’t care. Her instincts were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">screaming </i>at her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">This isn’t the time to question. Now is the time to
laugh, sing, dance, and be merry</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">So, she did.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlO7VD-L0UtRoOdYzJOTPB5DmLKOy9YxLPXp8l89vzPSJMZzutMPSQaTiLJTSUabFzr8dm0I0aWxAvGhJjffUpt99ur33lrAhAaU2RgoCwMH_4xjAVhOMb_cSSPCUuYImE1f7QlcRNsI/s1600/308.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlO7VD-L0UtRoOdYzJOTPB5DmLKOy9YxLPXp8l89vzPSJMZzutMPSQaTiLJTSUabFzr8dm0I0aWxAvGhJjffUpt99ur33lrAhAaU2RgoCwMH_4xjAVhOMb_cSSPCUuYImE1f7QlcRNsI/s640/308.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She laughed more
than she could ever remember doing back home, and she sang and danced with
wild, reckless abandon, letting the fairies and her instincts guide her. Her
heart beat in time with the cadence of the fairies’ song, and she danced with
many, many different partners, never dancing with the same one for more than a
few minutes. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">In the centre of
everything, dancing and singing and laughing just like all the rest, were
Sionann and Adrian, and every time one of them laughed, Lyra found herself
laughing as well. The day was about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them</i>,
and her heart leapt with happiness every time she heard their laughter.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was so, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>much better than the stuffy weddings
she’d known in Sunset Valley.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLVgqI6Zg1YjS2Tyn-ECpd1YgrLQVCOdX30qZ0UNhy-VL2hZkyJKBQMVrSLtfavJOyv5v7zSBz8lz1bCK-DKmSm2LNGwi6C34hxnVTXP3XXvQBCSh51WVIb7GOraL22Y4lroNa5_JY2w/s1600/308.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLVgqI6Zg1YjS2Tyn-ECpd1YgrLQVCOdX30qZ0UNhy-VL2hZkyJKBQMVrSLtfavJOyv5v7zSBz8lz1bCK-DKmSm2LNGwi6C34hxnVTXP3XXvQBCSh51WVIb7GOraL22Y4lroNa5_JY2w/s640/308.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sometime during
the course of the celebrations, the skies opened up and it started raining, but
the revelries didn’t stop, and Lyra found herself gravitating towards Blaise.
The cadence of the harmonic rhythm still rang through her bones, guiding her to
dance with reckless abandon, and while she danced, she met his eyes
unabashedly. His eyes were an absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vivid
</i>blue, and she felt butterflies flutter in her stomach at the way he met her
gaze. His normal scowl was absent, a corner of his mouth pulled up in a
satisfied little smile, and there was something <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">burning </i>in his gaze she couldn’t identify. They danced around each
other, close enough to dance <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with </i>the
other, but never touching. Their bodies flowed around each other in perfect
harmony in a way not unlike their spars.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggI7ZBCTWptqCGvn_S5GitlEI6h2wiBkRN-p7MwCvJC_Ix-s6bGF9r3vr2lR_CSQjUExWuloZqWfEBIS7-NRueri8b0s7MSioUJEyV4cebF4zu_0DB4spZc45khsyUFiOjnIvr7KgWLQk/s1600/308.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggI7ZBCTWptqCGvn_S5GitlEI6h2wiBkRN-p7MwCvJC_Ix-s6bGF9r3vr2lR_CSQjUExWuloZqWfEBIS7-NRueri8b0s7MSioUJEyV4cebF4zu_0DB4spZc45khsyUFiOjnIvr7KgWLQk/s640/308.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The space between
them was positively <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vibrating</i>, and
the rhythm of the fairies’ dance kept ringing through her bones, egging her on
to push for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i>. For every challenge she made,
Blaise responded in kind, never once giving ground in this non-verbal challenge
they were competing in. It drove her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nuts</i>.
She wanted him to touch her, but he kept his distance, refusing to rise to the
bait she was offering.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Then he grazed
his hand against the small of her back, fast enough that she wasn’t sure if she
had merely imagined it, but the smirk on his face confirmed her suspicions. She
threw her head back, laughing out to the skies before she threw caution to the wind
and slid her hands into his. She felt like she was riding clouds, her entire
being and all her thoughts overruled by the overwhelming joy strumming through
her veins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXB_LIvOLzxNBT-4RakEAmpPBCsjr_MCl5krzVv0Uk5iDcDe0xoKQvz5ULxTtesFxkrMAHUh2kVA2ilgd8DXsEvsBisuXbBuGHTvHWsJMd9Zhp1OgYmQeb08xN_DwuizZXMQg5wJGLEQ/s1600/308.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXB_LIvOLzxNBT-4RakEAmpPBCsjr_MCl5krzVv0Uk5iDcDe0xoKQvz5ULxTtesFxkrMAHUh2kVA2ilgd8DXsEvsBisuXbBuGHTvHWsJMd9Zhp1OgYmQeb08xN_DwuizZXMQg5wJGLEQ/s640/308.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The celebrations
continued for many, many more hours, and she danced the night away. She didn’t
dance with Blaise again, but the skin on her back and hands still tingled with
promise.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Life in the house
hadn’t changed much after the wedding. Adrian and Sionann were still
lovey-dovey as always, and everyone still followed the same routine as before. Things
didn’t change much. About the only difference Lyra could see was that Adrian
and Sionann were even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>lovey-dovey
than before.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTiLLMmXsO4kXU1cWFJCgisXlpsDvJ1ly17McuqQHRgynPIbMHTLwd3gkRm2VPQgekz34l5BVKmAhNTpN06X3wX3eH_Jf9YUPyjWDq8Aq1hoGBbaBYtU3Ch5ldgb93MxdN0sLiEJNlLs/s1600/308.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTiLLMmXsO4kXU1cWFJCgisXlpsDvJ1ly17McuqQHRgynPIbMHTLwd3gkRm2VPQgekz34l5BVKmAhNTpN06X3wX3eH_Jf9YUPyjWDq8Aq1hoGBbaBYtU3Ch5ldgb93MxdN0sLiEJNlLs/s640/308.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Then, of course,
there was the tension between her and Blaise, more from her side than Blaise’s.
The dance she had shared with him at the celebrations stood out in her mind
with vivid clarity, and despite all her efforts to drive the memory <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">out of her head</i>, she kept coming back to
it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They had shared <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>during that dance, she
couldn’t deny it. She just wished she knew what it meant.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Then again,
Blaise’s attitude towards <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>hadn’t
really changed, so maybe she was just overthinking things. His unrelenting
taskmaster-like behaviour during their daily self-defence sessions certainly
hadn’t changed.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnHv2TyM71oB8R9z_kJHWSKBldNp3_yoeXTM68HjvEfdHIpJgEKC-EKRj94wnG_CQ71tEf7IjrhmDthyBmkYCENQHeIKKDF0ZHMoF9hOQJfRvVmuJfiZDjXPzTEEcSzpk8B87cSmStfo/s1600/308.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnHv2TyM71oB8R9z_kJHWSKBldNp3_yoeXTM68HjvEfdHIpJgEKC-EKRj94wnG_CQ71tEf7IjrhmDthyBmkYCENQHeIKKDF0ZHMoF9hOQJfRvVmuJfiZDjXPzTEEcSzpk8B87cSmStfo/s640/308.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re not focusing,” Blaise scowled at her.
“Focus, or we’ll stop this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right here</i>.
I’m not going to waste my time instructing an idiot who won’t pay attention. I
have better things to do than that.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra shot him a
foul glare, but she tried her best to drive her previous thoughts to the back
of her mind and regain her focus. A deep breath later, she felt calm and
focused again.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Better,” Blaise
approved grudgingly. “Keep your core in line with your centre of balance, and
focus on…”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkmpLmv5hDyE5mwxFNJs_6fAn3pLcJeYQhq2CCMkjpvHpJRZZ8rgpXOiZ3IfgPc3Xj0y_dV8v7PVOIaFudiXaoT2e7STaz4e0ELApBIcDPRNye2FsWEHhl525Mq80Q3Chk17-M7eiU1k/s1600/308.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkmpLmv5hDyE5mwxFNJs_6fAn3pLcJeYQhq2CCMkjpvHpJRZZ8rgpXOiZ3IfgPc3Xj0y_dV8v7PVOIaFudiXaoT2e7STaz4e0ELApBIcDPRNye2FsWEHhl525Mq80Q3Chk17-M7eiU1k/s640/308.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra listened
attentively, fixing the instructions in her mind and trying to fold her body
into the movement she was trying to perfect.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her perception
shifted a fraction, and an abrupt, unreasonable <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sorrow </i>suddenly rose in her chest.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">When did it get
so cold?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra!”</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_s6l8U6xJkGxjgQQcco09leLeuHFpIw5H-b7v8fFy3oLhhVQmpbE-Hd8TKR-mhtLajgMw1fLZu_f7y7_E86Jf3V-qfSOkfaKh7fT04LTAOHYfjcIuWdnViLC8R-zf8cCAxxzZr-0qJ4/s1600/308.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_s6l8U6xJkGxjgQQcco09leLeuHFpIw5H-b7v8fFy3oLhhVQmpbE-Hd8TKR-mhtLajgMw1fLZu_f7y7_E86Jf3V-qfSOkfaKh7fT04LTAOHYfjcIuWdnViLC8R-zf8cCAxxzZr-0qJ4/s640/308.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She blinked. Her
perception corrected itself, the day returned to a normal temperature, and she
was left standing bewildered, wondering <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what
the hell </i>just happened.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise was
looking at her with a carefully blank expression.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I guess we’ll be
focusing on something else today,” he stated neutrally. “Sit.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She ignored his
order outright, her mind still struggling to come to terms with what happened.
She simply couldn’t figure it out.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuoHZ4UQk216fr8axuPLEQh-69oZgWwpQjnhe-Wuuz3CvVOcU3scwmn-BPVXWnIHoNaeg-XW7e5bCqUvsyiPTatJI02QUkqrIme7DxtgbeSgJ16TmdM6Y7t0kqAyVAFcuq0WBpuL8jxg/s1600/308.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuoHZ4UQk216fr8axuPLEQh-69oZgWwpQjnhe-Wuuz3CvVOcU3scwmn-BPVXWnIHoNaeg-XW7e5bCqUvsyiPTatJI02QUkqrIme7DxtgbeSgJ16TmdM6Y7t0kqAyVAFcuq0WBpuL8jxg/s640/308.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sit</i>,”
Blaise insisted impatiently when she didn’t immediately obey. “Your magic is
unstable. You need to learn to control it.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">That definitely
broke her out of her senseless reverie.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What?”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>she asked, completely baffled. She
crossed her arms across her chest, staring sceptically at Blaise. “What are you
talking about?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise mirrored
her, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow, incredulous.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5JE0wWOx5Ht2Mt3f-0E5cVVKnpLj7nVdf54V26rtTj6UJT_MoxhCjHhxXhf_vVefhAwi76nWs1P7tdprMJOzA05MWWxoguCklIdajgfnIAvPiHCp3w4OgBNnLuLJInTDAHyLn3_1lQE/s1600/308.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5JE0wWOx5Ht2Mt3f-0E5cVVKnpLj7nVdf54V26rtTj6UJT_MoxhCjHhxXhf_vVefhAwi76nWs1P7tdprMJOzA05MWWxoguCklIdajgfnIAvPiHCp3w4OgBNnLuLJInTDAHyLn3_1lQE/s640/308.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t tell me you’re such an oblivious idiot
you didn’t even notice casting that spell at me.” He pointed at the ground
between them, which, to Lyra’s surprise, was covered in frost – frost that
definitely hadn’t been there before they started their self-defence session.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I…” She stared
at the frost, trying to make sense of it all. Her thoughts were scattered all
over the place, flitting from one idea to another, and again that inexplicable <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sorrow </i>started to build in her chest.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mEI0F9l33CiLuc2kXtxjsCX7DCKLORn040IzTG4Hb-SszyHPX_f0ekzB_RAwn8zu_CzW7Q5W72N3OlEfTSFzZIEAwZepethjxAclW1mjhfY66czdG9kzuVwbGLfP3MkvsuGuYh0_Flk/s1600/308.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mEI0F9l33CiLuc2kXtxjsCX7DCKLORn040IzTG4Hb-SszyHPX_f0ekzB_RAwn8zu_CzW7Q5W72N3OlEfTSFzZIEAwZepethjxAclW1mjhfY66czdG9kzuVwbGLfP3MkvsuGuYh0_Flk/s640/308.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise grabbed
her hands with an irritated sigh. For a second, his touch was unnaturally hot,
and then, just as suddenly as it came, that pressure in Lyra’s chest
disappeared. She jerked her hands out of Blaise’s hold, staring suspiciously at
him. That was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>normal.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He growled and
folded his legs beneath him, sitting on the damp grass and staring at her with
a pointed glare, waiting for her to do the same. Realising she wouldn’t get
anything else out of him until she obeyed, Lyra sat down with an irritated
huff. Almost immediately, the water on the damp grass soaked through her jeans,
leaving her with wet panties and a cold ass. She grimaced at the feel.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkE9-mRQxSB2dRGsfiUQwqxsXtZ_-p-pixUYlR5AkTY_V18MRA0sC3IbQikNSz0bhBgjIsIKYhmLUIJpSNHH4KCv2E4YZ50O9wFmXgUjLzwnSlgX2RGWWlnBUbANj0wf_ip9UmgqzXvo/s1600/308.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkE9-mRQxSB2dRGsfiUQwqxsXtZ_-p-pixUYlR5AkTY_V18MRA0sC3IbQikNSz0bhBgjIsIKYhmLUIJpSNHH4KCv2E4YZ50O9wFmXgUjLzwnSlgX2RGWWlnBUbANj0wf_ip9UmgqzXvo/s640/308.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Close your eyes,” Blaise instructed, his
voice barely louder than a murmur and his breathing calm and even. Far too used
to Blaise’s different ways of instruction, Lyra wordlessly obeyed, her
breathing automatically mimicking his. He remained quiet for several minutes,
simply breathing and exuding a sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">calm</i>,
and before Lyra realised, that same sense of calm had fallen over her. She felt
curiously detached from the world around her, but a different, previously
unidentified part of her brain was hyper-aware of her surroundings.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You wouldn’t
have noticed your magic before,” Blaise explained quietly, careful not to
startle her and break her calm, “because that part of your brain was dormant.
The ambient magic from Adrian and Sionann’s bonding reawakened that part of
your brain. It’s wreaking havoc with your emotions because you don’t know how
to control it.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nUA9UKx7yJtJnQB7Ztu1eGg1z8suM_NWWuhvM5Gj4rjFeT08Rz8cDuSoIdJhHoCRbyB2L7fpzjmtpFU6uxV7GlQx-2xoYnfAzaLiEkrXcw7KhnRniW8TXz9j3rIxpFtbW24F1IVF4z8/s1600/308.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nUA9UKx7yJtJnQB7Ztu1eGg1z8suM_NWWuhvM5Gj4rjFeT08Rz8cDuSoIdJhHoCRbyB2L7fpzjmtpFU6uxV7GlQx-2xoYnfAzaLiEkrXcw7KhnRniW8TXz9j3rIxpFtbW24F1IVF4z8/s640/308.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Ah. That
explained why she had acted so completely uncharacteristic during the wedding
celebrations. Or it should. The magic influenced her emotions; because she was magical. It was still difficult to wrap her mind around the
fact that she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">magical</i>. She had
known that on an intellectual level, but she had never paused to consider <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what it meant</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She should’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">known </i>it meant she’d be able to perform magic herself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“The more you
practise, the more you’ll be able to control your magic,” Blaise continued calmly.
“Before you can practise though, you need to identify the ‘feel’ of your magic.
The best way to do this, is to meditate.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveVB5NktbJ7dKPGE8EyA2CXUWt47A_p-tWewhfpAR1O7uzX4gOvOwZ-PmOS_oT-JcdxJJeJPhKA8HPw4xmh9paD9d2DCxWGyuk6wxwMNuwUq_-BjDDLHLAlNJJ4ZhKtX6yX338j3Ir6g/s1600/308.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveVB5NktbJ7dKPGE8EyA2CXUWt47A_p-tWewhfpAR1O7uzX4gOvOwZ-PmOS_oT-JcdxJJeJPhKA8HPw4xmh9paD9d2DCxWGyuk6wxwMNuwUq_-BjDDLHLAlNJJ4ZhKtX6yX338j3Ir6g/s640/308.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra continued
focusing on her breathing, nodding at Blaise to show she was still listening
and following.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“A part of your brain
should feel ‘awake’. Focus on that part, then focus on me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra tentatively
followed his orders, and couldn’t quite stifle her gasp when her world suddenly
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">expanded</i>. Her eyes were still closed,
but she could sense Blaise in front of her as clearly as if she could see him.
To her senses, he was a bright, luminescent ball of white fire, glowing
brightly and holding a touch of utter destruction, tightly contained right in
the middle of that fire. It was oddly mesmerizing.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSqs0dl4goz8aw8oU-5RH3wj4ecziGS5SX1WSlQxePzX0hT07fvUzRZRnd0cjp43MmY5c7XIVdi-a6u7EECzgSRad9X9pmTBe_GAsAc5o5JLna-KM7KtYojAcz6_ILFrSqtu8aCw-p8U/s1600/308.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSqs0dl4goz8aw8oU-5RH3wj4ecziGS5SX1WSlQxePzX0hT07fvUzRZRnd0cjp43MmY5c7XIVdi-a6u7EECzgSRad9X9pmTBe_GAsAc5o5JLna-KM7KtYojAcz6_ILFrSqtu8aCw-p8U/s640/308.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">On a touch of
whim, she turned her senses inward, wondering what <i>she </i>would look like
in this strange reality that existed only in her mind. Her own magic swirled in
a reddish-orange ball of fire, furiously snapping out tendrils of red-hot fire.
Spitfire. It was the very personification of the nickname her dad had given her
so long ago.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Focus on what
I’m doing, Lyra,” Blaise’s voice drew her back to the present. Energy coalesced
in the palm of his hand, all verdant and sugary and – </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra’s eyes shot
open. She stared at the apple on Blaise’s hand, incredulous.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8vK1zJcqPfirP9qc6kSkGfOHR9XA07sg94jg4yGvqsgnjtkfh6k_CvOV2dHTynxL6K2WQbY8v-DQG7SWaqLss16fxzRPn-hZfAcPu734b0sOabBauu1EGUKZqZHzj9NsqTk_W_4rP1Y/s1600/308.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn8vK1zJcqPfirP9qc6kSkGfOHR9XA07sg94jg4yGvqsgnjtkfh6k_CvOV2dHTynxL6K2WQbY8v-DQG7SWaqLss16fxzRPn-hZfAcPu734b0sOabBauu1EGUKZqZHzj9NsqTk_W_4rP1Y/s640/308.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s impossible,” she pointed out, utterly
bewildered. What he had just done…it went against <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>laws of science. Conservation of energy, conservation of
mass…he had just violated both of those laws. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It wasn’t possible</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“In the laws of
magic, it’s not,” Blaise disagreed, like he knew exactly what he was thinking.
His brows sank a bit, like he was on the verge of scowling at her, but was
trying his best not to. “Don’t fight this. Don’t think of science, or methods,
or reasons. Just trust your power, and your instincts.” He leaned back on his
hands, staring at her with bored eyes. “Try it. Focus on the magic you felt,
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>it into being.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQxeQODQmI0vSCHV5a8TWyIRgvR6S6xRm0nnUzHXoY3MhsRmoOzwIhhxtzHxBpv87K5Ke3gZ7AVTxJZMBXL-VZ7yfDgAUnft1J6z0effCWHfk2CV5KLsg_CnFwzxUwT8W19imK4oKLWA/s1600/308.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQxeQODQmI0vSCHV5a8TWyIRgvR6S6xRm0nnUzHXoY3MhsRmoOzwIhhxtzHxBpv87K5Ke3gZ7AVTxJZMBXL-VZ7yfDgAUnft1J6z0effCWHfk2CV5KLsg_CnFwzxUwT8W19imK4oKLWA/s640/308.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was
impossible. He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">literally </i>asking
her to do the impossible. But she didn’t argue with him, because there was an
absolute <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trust </i>in his eyes that she
had never encountered before. Like he fully believed she was capable of it, and
that the idea of her failing had never even existed in his mind. It was such a
powerful emotion that Lyra closed her eyes and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tried</i>, despite knowing she was attempting the impossible.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She focused on
her hand, and the way the energy of the apple had coalesced in her mind’s eye
when Blaise had done it. She focused on the imaginary apple, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">willed </i>it to appear.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her hand glowed
brightly, and suddenly she could feel something forming in her hand, light at
first and then heavier as it gained substance.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCTMzbx0SM1ub4QEMNrFFaQEJUrNH0xqccBhWYxwum91L0ZRWT6pBd3OvUVoO264-a8lpXfGDuo0wiryR6PFiKLV60o5yOUDM5gkvU8yK_vGl5yZ5uSkCGnX4xZFufBKxrOcxoY_uyVE/s1600/308.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCTMzbx0SM1ub4QEMNrFFaQEJUrNH0xqccBhWYxwum91L0ZRWT6pBd3OvUVoO264-a8lpXfGDuo0wiryR6PFiKLV60o5yOUDM5gkvU8yK_vGl5yZ5uSkCGnX4xZFufBKxrOcxoY_uyVE/s640/308.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She opened her
eyes, staring mutely at the object in her hand – a perfectly formed apple. She
had just broken the very laws of science. Her mind <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boggled </i>at it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">On Blaise’s face
was a small, satisfied smile. It filled Lyra with happiness, and she quietly
admitted to herself that his approval meant more to her than she had previously
thought. When he smiled at her like that, she felt like she was capable of
absolutely anything.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fpDbWv2UYjf05stJ3vdZusKFOOFEt20AuXarqQdvIZDEUusiFoq4efUw4Xsfb_JRQ-rc9rtE9T9NplL_zCWaNkaRO19pKg2DfGxXaqlOP__2RXWAVU4RVMvffVSgzdW5W7GYoP7YhlE/s1600/308.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fpDbWv2UYjf05stJ3vdZusKFOOFEt20AuXarqQdvIZDEUusiFoq4efUw4Xsfb_JRQ-rc9rtE9T9NplL_zCWaNkaRO19pKg2DfGxXaqlOP__2RXWAVU4RVMvffVSgzdW5W7GYoP7YhlE/s640/308.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann was
strangely preoccupied lately, Lyra mused as she idly stared at the fairy, hands
busy preparing dinner. She was on food duty tonight, and when home, Sionann
normally kept her company, talking about recipes and herbs and just about
everything else she could think of, all the while drinking copious amounts of
deathly-sweet tea. Tonight though, she was quiet, and there wasn’t a single cup
of tea anywhere in sight.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHOKd6df-aPG5Ih-zcjpffWKmB01dr8n34AgXod2tHCQ3GUhn4oO3FIsV6yAqAdB7lOTg4rm2pZnDG66v3r2WmXh7huYpgdaqW8maMBU9p7OTW2S8GycLguF3FF_1RhHVIWapKt7hubM/s1600/308.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHOKd6df-aPG5Ih-zcjpffWKmB01dr8n34AgXod2tHCQ3GUhn4oO3FIsV6yAqAdB7lOTg4rm2pZnDG66v3r2WmXh7huYpgdaqW8maMBU9p7OTW2S8GycLguF3FF_1RhHVIWapKt7hubM/s640/308.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Instead, she was
staring over the backyard, hands resting idly on her belly. It was really
strange seeing the fairy so quiet. Even her wings were strangely motionless.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Is something
wrong?” Lyra finally asked, unable to stand the quiet any longer. Sionann
jerked in surprise, completely caught off-guard by the question.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What? Oh, yes. I
mean, no, nothing’s wrong,” the fairy stammered uncharacteristically. Lyra
simply lifted an eyebrow and waited for Sionann to elaborate. She was simply <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">unable </i>to maintain a proper poker-face
under pressure.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TCoSHaHM9vrkKzWcJlLgET57yoFeogmcr_v5nhzIN9o_-aO0rz8TDG1Xn_EG8w2xYBRvgkWF4TRqwHLOb94B9MLvVYmPNNX5aeKkihYW-k6XbFiUWBsjnLax3xbJdHEjLFpG-Pj5czM/s1600/308.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TCoSHaHM9vrkKzWcJlLgET57yoFeogmcr_v5nhzIN9o_-aO0rz8TDG1Xn_EG8w2xYBRvgkWF4TRqwHLOb94B9MLvVYmPNNX5aeKkihYW-k6XbFiUWBsjnLax3xbJdHEjLFpG-Pj5czM/s640/308.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sure enough…</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I think I’m
pregnant,” came the confession in a quick and rushed voice. Lyra dropped the knife
in her hand, absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shocked </i>by
the admission. She had definitely not expected that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Wait,
seriously?” she asked incredulously, bending over and picking the knife back
up. Sionann nodded, her arm cradling her belly protectively.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“About seven
weeks, I think,” Sionann continued. “My magic’s all wonky, and it started just
after,” she paused and gave Lyra a side-long glance, “well, I don’t think I
need to elaborate.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj_SOkV2zSxdPR7AwIQmfxi0248Z2v677IFu6SD812YsbsT0Rrjx7Y8EmCRajZYFiqAQK6ZkvrJA-gDwA-RcQtUWC0MFTk2CBF8ViQvRZ95-LOG9-IifiRicBQWbu90pLGtV_WLkyH7o/s1600/308.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj_SOkV2zSxdPR7AwIQmfxi0248Z2v677IFu6SD812YsbsT0Rrjx7Y8EmCRajZYFiqAQK6ZkvrJA-gDwA-RcQtUWC0MFTk2CBF8ViQvRZ95-LOG9-IifiRicBQWbu90pLGtV_WLkyH7o/s640/308.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra abruptly
turned back to her task. She had absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no
</i>desire to hear about Sionann and Adrian’s sex-life, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thank you very much</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s okay, I
think I can draw my own conclusions,” Lyra agreed firmly, adding the chopped
ingredients into the pan and listening to it sizzle as it hit the heated oil.
“Does Adrian know?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann bit her
lip and shook her head.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5-5MTQyUjTA-EOQ7bk88WSULdZoWaKORQmXf7ZFmafCwfhyphenhyphenxFF3sP5_J5ipmEe09AfeCqBqddxTKzeAxrPMQeJ5LzKbpstfyVUaTQHl__1gwRXqP-lSMaXVfwHPYeXT7OuMvHWYiTmI/s1600/308.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5-5MTQyUjTA-EOQ7bk88WSULdZoWaKORQmXf7ZFmafCwfhyphenhyphenxFF3sP5_J5ipmEe09AfeCqBqddxTKzeAxrPMQeJ5LzKbpstfyVUaTQHl__1gwRXqP-lSMaXVfwHPYeXT7OuMvHWYiTmI/s640/308.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not yet,” she admitted nervously. “I know he
won’t mind, not really, but…” She sighed, a tone of resignation in the sound.
“We weren’t exactly planning on having children <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this </i>soon. We both still have so much to do on the island and with
the Hunt and,” she swallowed nervously, “and we both agreed to settle affairs
first before trying for a family. Now though…” She sighed again, petulant. “I
guess now we won’t get that chance. This little one didn’t want to wait, it
seems.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You don’t even
know for sure you’re pregnant, right?” Lyra pointed out, stirring the mass of
veggies cooking in the pan. “Maybe you’re just overreacting. Maybe your magic
is ‘wonky’ due to something else.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCt0VPpHKPccZYqOCYCLc_cc17pIHNvFFuUBUagJGMLBUrUtaoBT7-0d4gEhIGhX_H3hv0IZL3W_EfUv_kwCtEkiRUpOCdtof_-chBv1hZokT0q-rM6cLI14qVRuJy2khC_ZKGy-h6Vh8/s1600/308.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCt0VPpHKPccZYqOCYCLc_cc17pIHNvFFuUBUagJGMLBUrUtaoBT7-0d4gEhIGhX_H3hv0IZL3W_EfUv_kwCtEkiRUpOCdtof_-chBv1hZokT0q-rM6cLI14qVRuJy2khC_ZKGy-h6Vh8/s640/308.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann gave Lyra
a sardonic smile.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I’ve been a
healer long enough to recognise the signs, Lyra,” she declared flatly. “Trust
me, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well,
congratulations, then?” Lyra replied, not really sure how else to respond. “If
it helps, I think you and Adrian will make amazing parents.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann’s entire
posture relaxed, and her face softened at Lyra’s statement.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJgnzIV0yo0qUhhQSjtdnu8LwRZQV_QdppRK37CbwEMGMj1ostOQtTCUSQGDgpDMeWMGCnrzJcKme-keOoYj1ZoSLmOtjcFW4tRsj04Gx95VxyePtyflJH0itcbVTVcJswqqUs2-XSIA/s1600/308.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJgnzIV0yo0qUhhQSjtdnu8LwRZQV_QdppRK37CbwEMGMj1ostOQtTCUSQGDgpDMeWMGCnrzJcKme-keOoYj1ZoSLmOtjcFW4tRsj04Gx95VxyePtyflJH0itcbVTVcJswqqUs2-XSIA/s640/308.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks,” she agreed lightly. “It does help, a
little. I mean, I’m really excited about this and I can’t wait to be a mother,
but…it’s just a really inconvenient time, you know?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">No, Lyra didn’t
know. In her opinion, it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>a
convenient time to have children. But she kept her mouth shut, because it was
definitely not what Sionann needed to hear right now.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Right,” she
simply agreed. “So, when are you going to tell Adrian?”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9ZUVlogtq9yK1xARLi9FLbYjBdFkZICVQVIRlkwccm1lNwv8IA-_Olu_z_BY01jlLb9i9V4bdq6gP0toq_RnTnDs64_wvpgv6-mqjLn-sqb2VoA0iQ7X8jNcP8-ov9ILsUBwcdGAvBo/s1600/308.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9ZUVlogtq9yK1xARLi9FLbYjBdFkZICVQVIRlkwccm1lNwv8IA-_Olu_z_BY01jlLb9i9V4bdq6gP0toq_RnTnDs64_wvpgv6-mqjLn-sqb2VoA0iQ7X8jNcP8-ov9ILsUBwcdGAvBo/s640/308.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Tonight, I
think,” Sionann confessed unsurely, tapping her chin with her finger. “It’s
still a bit early, as most pregnancies need about ten to twelve weeks to really
get established, but…” She shrugged, in a what-can-you-do manner, “Adrian
should know, I guess. The sooner we can discuss this and what it’ll mean for the
future, the better. Whether we like it or not, our lives are definitely going
to change soon.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann did tell
Adrian that night, but she did it in a way <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lyra
</i>definitely wouldn’t have. Lyra honestly hadn’t planned to witness the
moment Sionann informed her husband of his impending status of fatherhood, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of course </i>the fairy had to do it when
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">entire goddamn </i>household were
present.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9-h-qaIc567Cvi3mCflvmidfzGFTBIveiHtsVL4P0oagk_CfO7Sq32rgzOUn_CPFOLvj0ATtCzrJWyk3-gdvAo3HOTwAk40m27Lfamf0StIjb6WWUzhHEIv23oAS1KhUPk8_h0KkErM/s1600/308.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9-h-qaIc567Cvi3mCflvmidfzGFTBIveiHtsVL4P0oagk_CfO7Sq32rgzOUn_CPFOLvj0ATtCzrJWyk3-gdvAo3HOTwAk40m27Lfamf0StIjb6WWUzhHEIv23oAS1KhUPk8_h0KkErM/s640/308.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So…” the fairy began, idly picking at the
food in front of her. “It seems we need to leave the island.” </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra, having
taken a bite of her food, immediately started coughing, trying to dislodge the
piece of tomato she was choking on. She knew <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exactly </i>where this conversation was going to lead to, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbbob, </i>she did not want to be
present. And yet there was no decent way to remove herself from the
conversation without giving the ball away, so she was stuck where she was.
Adrian and Blaise, the poor oblivious idiots, had no <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">idea </i>what was coming.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0QNxfiqoFEKnuqjMN3lGB10GMwSuDXIz1k35iBPKn_uX2eAdpjRXlnyexO41LpdjVEfs9D5SB9rfkjd7m1eXLHewhAvO0mcE3_4VnSBmmSxAyD2UgXdeHPsTQtWyvMBfmbZuAOayvxE/s1600/308.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0QNxfiqoFEKnuqjMN3lGB10GMwSuDXIz1k35iBPKn_uX2eAdpjRXlnyexO41LpdjVEfs9D5SB9rfkjd7m1eXLHewhAvO0mcE3_4VnSBmmSxAyD2UgXdeHPsTQtWyvMBfmbZuAOayvxE/s640/308.33.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why?” Adrian asked, baffled, at the same time
Blaise said, “What the hell are you talking about?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann smiled
sheepishly at Blaise. “Well, Adrian and I are going to have to leave the island
sometime soon. I guess <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>don’t
really have to.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her answer <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still </i>didn’t make any sense to them, as
they simply continued to stare at her with confusion. Lyra desperately wanted
to bang her head on the table. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sionann, you’re
not making any sense,” Adrian declared, gently taking her hand in his and
staring at her with concern. “Why would we need to leave the island?”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qwPHrJfagJVZoKbUq77W-vnZDnAAhvCbKsjZpxWiX4e5yqnYr4ieQycDEtDzaUgqF64pAbAXsb2QQLICf4G2AOndq5tpQZD6WVHzZmtYWVZQDXTMT1D2fNxJ2u6LHBLV_JbnB_EWJ3I/s1600/308.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qwPHrJfagJVZoKbUq77W-vnZDnAAhvCbKsjZpxWiX4e5yqnYr4ieQycDEtDzaUgqF64pAbAXsb2QQLICf4G2AOndq5tpQZD6WVHzZmtYWVZQDXTMT1D2fNxJ2u6LHBLV_JbnB_EWJ3I/s640/308.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">Because she’s
pregnant, you dolt! </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra screamed in her head. For
crying out, he’d been the one to explain to her what happened to people who
expected children on the island. Surely, he could draw the right conclusions
from that.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann smiled
hopefully at him and raised her eyebrows expectantly. Even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>expected him to be able to draw the right conclusions.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Across from Lyra,
Blaise <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>. He, too, started choking
on his food. Unlike Lyra, he had no reservation in speaking his mind.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwO_wP13D5-LM7x9lhC-myoyL61js3luTNfUdNK6LdBQ6DH9oatzJ2YcY1pJb6LvDreJoaN50VcSd7xB1PmMQpeQxxMnyPF5HTvCXzEClcSDVb_sWKieoyVBxIsUGnW-oPueneaNF2no4/s1600/308.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwO_wP13D5-LM7x9lhC-myoyL61js3luTNfUdNK6LdBQ6DH9oatzJ2YcY1pJb6LvDreJoaN50VcSd7xB1PmMQpeQxxMnyPF5HTvCXzEClcSDVb_sWKieoyVBxIsUGnW-oPueneaNF2no4/s640/308.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shit, </i>Sionann,”
he exclaimed incredulously. “You’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pregnant</i>?!”
Beside him, Adrian stiffened, his eyes widening with shock. He looked at
Sionann in wonder. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann gave
Blaise an unimpressed stare.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Thank you,
Blaise,” she replied primly, “for informing my husband before I could.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, you were
taking ages to do it,” Lyra couldn’t help but interject, grateful that the cat
was now out of the bag.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAzNVe6qoln1-Pi4RsOMbY2h7GphFPUhFGX402PTDRKicPKyelwuNIC1Zqy7Z7BeCb4jYB_8GmmUGWZBYXqBhna8C-z8qDZT40b39pXcBGDZY2P2Bqa_eNa8G5F25guG5iCzQbHSEnBg/s1600/308.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAzNVe6qoln1-Pi4RsOMbY2h7GphFPUhFGX402PTDRKicPKyelwuNIC1Zqy7Z7BeCb4jYB_8GmmUGWZBYXqBhna8C-z8qDZT40b39pXcBGDZY2P2Bqa_eNa8G5F25guG5iCzQbHSEnBg/s640/308.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann threw her
hands up in exasperation. “Sorry that I was expecting you guys to have a little
more decorum!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Maybe you
shouldn’t have done it at the dinner table?” Lyra pointed out. “Just a
suggestion, you know.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“A bit late for
that, now,” Blaise growled in response, also engaging in the banter.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian held up
his hand, halting the banter. “Stop it,” he ordered Lyra and Blaise, turning to
look incredulously at Sionann. “Sionann?”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2ZsAjOTCtrVe-hr3VI-zLDZyHIdTwOWDVDEX0x1HXgEHkeskVkoOpfKZRS4Md2QRHTS58R2MjQ7uMe4w27qTyZb67kD6kgU7f1b7Xgue4qyLG86qwaBIc8oWDHV7SvZ_UBGJbDbHffA/s1600/308.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2ZsAjOTCtrVe-hr3VI-zLDZyHIdTwOWDVDEX0x1HXgEHkeskVkoOpfKZRS4Md2QRHTS58R2MjQ7uMe4w27qTyZb67kD6kgU7f1b7Xgue4qyLG86qwaBIc8oWDHV7SvZ_UBGJbDbHffA/s640/308.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She gave him a
sheepish smile and a slight shrug. “It’s early yet, but yes. We’re going to have a
child.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He stared at her
in wonder for about two seconds before his entire face lit up in adulation. He
was up from his chair way faster than Lyra had seen him move before, and so was
Sionann, and he lifted her in the air, spinning her around, absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">delighted</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra watched the
spectacle with a small smile. She was glad Adrian seemed so happy. She
considered both Adrian and Sionann to be her closest friends, and seeing them
so happy…well, it made her feel like the world was just that little bit
brighter. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNNhf19Wx2o_TgFndTrjcsX0qPZQauoXiEktB0TxSQasobKboFr-A4qjGhE2tO_KA_rj48UCvLdjZ6bpzK2NeD9x5XT49OMOFjq9eHZMviRTMPkoiuKmlKlTiRlj8dTUHiECm_HdDrwk/s1600/308.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNNhf19Wx2o_TgFndTrjcsX0qPZQauoXiEktB0TxSQasobKboFr-A4qjGhE2tO_KA_rj48UCvLdjZ6bpzK2NeD9x5XT49OMOFjq9eHZMviRTMPkoiuKmlKlTiRlj8dTUHiECm_HdDrwk/s640/308.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Parenthood would
suit them. And curiously enough, despite her own very firm views on having
children, she was strangely looking forward to meeting the pending little
bundle of joy.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“This couldn’t
have come at a worse time.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRfeVKWVBzwXMz6JKNs2sjlWOQ4jpkrDvVOESRaWpAvf1LML0fzXdVuBVgOTaTmst8xPP5AL5YYk7Qs0Lj36FFbHu7QStwva8pTD8AdNuEsMqm_ejYwXHpYG3opQ5ddwLnDGRirpDEBA/s1600/308.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRfeVKWVBzwXMz6JKNs2sjlWOQ4jpkrDvVOESRaWpAvf1LML0fzXdVuBVgOTaTmst8xPP5AL5YYk7Qs0Lj36FFbHu7QStwva8pTD8AdNuEsMqm_ejYwXHpYG3opQ5ddwLnDGRirpDEBA/s640/308.39.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra stiffened
guiltily at the voice drifting out of the open window, lowering the book in her
hand. It was Adrian’s voice, and he sounded more tired and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vulnerable </i>than Lyra had ever heard him before. For a moment, she
considered closing her book and going somewhere she wouldn’t be able to
eavesdrop, but the second voice and the words he spoke caused her to halt
curiously.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You aren’t happy
about this pregnancy, are you,” Blaise’s voice replied. It definitely wasn’t a
question.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I am,” Adrian
immediately disagreed. “It’s just…” He sighed despondently. “There’s a new Hunt
coming up.”</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNB-d3bF0EpK3hO1a8zNRqBq4OirB8hqd-ioCQzzF2tqfhKc0wMnyjTrMnIviRERdswEFMIILoSgNCRn3eatiUxVWsHpPiRlf1VGLQVPfBXqNqz8tn9lgydiHEtJ_ssy-kCe8g_5UMzU/s1600/308.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNB-d3bF0EpK3hO1a8zNRqBq4OirB8hqd-ioCQzzF2tqfhKc0wMnyjTrMnIviRERdswEFMIILoSgNCRn3eatiUxVWsHpPiRlf1VGLQVPfBXqNqz8tn9lgydiHEtJ_ssy-kCe8g_5UMzU/s640/308.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra cocked her
head curiously. How had they gone from the topic of Sionann’s pregnancy to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise simply
grunted in response. “I know.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was a sound
coming out the window, and Lyra had been exposed to it enough times to
recognise it as Adrian sweeping his hand through his hair, something he only
did when he was upset about something.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Your father
asked me to lead a team during this Hunt,” Adrian confessed quietly. There was
a rustle, and Lyra could just imagine Blaise crossing his arms and scowling
at Adrian.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRDyQ48VHiVsgZy9uSjMw1vl-aZJPCiQINlpMJdNGuYr_7-CW2hWmOSBZHnWfVra012ykYPCXZ5m75qirK-bfzJXuO6Hdy-lxVIl8bPr_36W_W2nsTskWXcKdHlf-_oO97ghKpAx3-ss/s1600/308.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRDyQ48VHiVsgZy9uSjMw1vl-aZJPCiQINlpMJdNGuYr_7-CW2hWmOSBZHnWfVra012ykYPCXZ5m75qirK-bfzJXuO6Hdy-lxVIl8bPr_36W_W2nsTskWXcKdHlf-_oO97ghKpAx3-ss/s640/308.41.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The fuck?” he swore lowly, his voice
incredulous. “He knows we’re partners. Why would he split us up?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I don’t know,”
Adrian immediately declared. “It’s just…Keeper, Blaise, you know how short we
are on manpower. I can’t afford to leave the island until we get
reinforcements, but with Sionann expecting…”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You can’t afford
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>to leave,” Blaise finished the
sentence for him. There was a moment of silence.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yes,” Adrian
admitted, subdued. “I can’t put her at risk like this.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise snorted
derisively.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can’t put <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yourself </i>at risk, Adrian,” he pointed out sharply. “Sionann needs
you to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stay alive</i>, child or not. You
knew this before you married her.”</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyprypjX4ijgUIVI69BwAEqSqHekAJdzleMctrPTeJM8_vWh0FPpZkiYZFpYHtcpuAti7xnUr6wA11InmEHHUtgSKtn_Z0MMYasK_G2p35hZWst2eHZyGt1Y0NDKHb-aRkMKJGOkvzkk/s1600/308.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyprypjX4ijgUIVI69BwAEqSqHekAJdzleMctrPTeJM8_vWh0FPpZkiYZFpYHtcpuAti7xnUr6wA11InmEHHUtgSKtn_Z0MMYasK_G2p35hZWst2eHZyGt1Y0NDKHb-aRkMKJGOkvzkk/s640/308.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra frowned
contemplatively, wondering why the heck they were talking about this. It
sounded awfully serious, talking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">risk
</i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">staying alive </i>and…Plumbbob, things
weren’t really that bad. They made it sound like just by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">living </i>they were in this incredible danger, like they were stuck in
the middle of a battlefield. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A shiver ran down
her back as she remembered that technically, they were. They were living on a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gateway World</i>. It had been easy to
forget, in the normal routine of everyday life, that they were all fighting a
battle she herself didn’t participate in. Putting their lives on the line was a
normal, everyday routine to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them</i>.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n78LPgN4nURdA0fo_GepL626jDjkzyyvwHwZ-9by_VJExIGkJfZzkROEvD7M1CtZ-XmYrpw2fGEqg69_tPZm5ZbIIsBhvF6Nsk1fWg1vGJULdXZC5GxRKs0k8n-GeB-p636UPE6eU1k/s1600/308.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n78LPgN4nURdA0fo_GepL626jDjkzyyvwHwZ-9by_VJExIGkJfZzkROEvD7M1CtZ-XmYrpw2fGEqg69_tPZm5ZbIIsBhvF6Nsk1fWg1vGJULdXZC5GxRKs0k8n-GeB-p636UPE6eU1k/s640/308.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was another
moment of silence before Blaise continued.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t accept
Leneo’s request,” he pleaded. “Leave. Go to the mainland. We’ll cope without
you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian didn’t
reply. Lyra’s grip on her book tightened as she ran the conversation through
her head, trying to figure out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what it
meant</i>. Surely things weren’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i>
dire on the island that one person’s absence would make a difference. And what
did it matter, in the end? Didn’t Adrian say that Alison forced everyone who
expected children to leave and go to the mainland? She didn’t understand why
Adrian was even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">contemplating </i>not
going.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPuTl31E2nGMgA90_wQ9bIsr2-Ku9ca2phoBXpFYVU2Y9Pg3IeDTJk9tyaVO5zSQC7px48mBc3Gx1zUm0YX5GLiDlXT5EDCnVNR8lXVJG3iP19QyaInP4zFC_-eKIyvvZAnbR7D2BRrY/s1600/308.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPuTl31E2nGMgA90_wQ9bIsr2-Ku9ca2phoBXpFYVU2Y9Pg3IeDTJk9tyaVO5zSQC7px48mBc3Gx1zUm0YX5GLiDlXT5EDCnVNR8lXVJG3iP19QyaInP4zFC_-eKIyvvZAnbR7D2BRrY/s640/308.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The wind started
to pick up, and Lyra rubbed her bare arms, startled out of her thoughts by the
chill. The wind was bitingly cold, and it carried a hint of moisture in it. It
was going to rain again soon, and judging by the clouds above her, Lyra guessed
it might even snow. Autumn was finally over.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian sighed.
“You’re right,” he murmured. “We should leave. I’ll let Lord Leneo know
tomorrow. You’ll be fine without me, won’t you?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Of course I
will,” Blaise assured him. “Don’t worry about me. It’s time to focus on your
family.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: Hmm, let’s
see. Happy wedding? Check. Romancy relationship stuff? Check. Sorta. First baby for
the next generation on the way? Check! Yes, Sionann and Adrian’s baby will be
one of the counted children of generation 4. :)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Also, why do all
the good couple poses <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>to make
the male pose taller? It annoys me way more than it should. Every adult in TS3 are
the same height, dammit. Now there are continuity issues when I use those
poses. -_-</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-14733406494016622002017-08-27T08:56:00.000+02:002017-08-27T08:58:02.739+02:00Chapter 3.07 - The Worst In Her<span style="font-size: large;">
<b>*Warning: Contains bad, uncensored language.*</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra had
absolutely no idea what was going on, but she gathered the death dragon wasn’t
exactly a welcome sight. Adrian had tensed up with fear, and Blaise’s eyebrows
dropped into an even deeper scowl than the one he normally carried. From the
backdoor, she heard Sionann gasp as she, too, stared at the new dragon with
wide, fearful eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her voice was
barely louder than a whisper.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Who…?” she asked
fearfully. Blaise scowled and lifted his arm, the dragon-wing earring hanging
from his ear glistening in the light, and the black dragon they were so afraid
of settled onto his arm.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cDgwFxDd7AAMH5U2mOfdfZYqFUehPvLbtn3XpkNPKL5GQNf9bB5iL7Y5FWzRs998g4eUSodm-31UfhsxlE4UQDGr3T6h7YM1HpC0FUWatBc85kWXfzeOJmVg8PLDCa8eF0fqWfb-ZbU/s1600/307.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cDgwFxDd7AAMH5U2mOfdfZYqFUehPvLbtn3XpkNPKL5GQNf9bB5iL7Y5FWzRs998g4eUSodm-31UfhsxlE4UQDGr3T6h7YM1HpC0FUWatBc85kWXfzeOJmVg8PLDCa8eF0fqWfb-ZbU/s640/307.01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">There was a
moment of heavy, tense silence as Blaise and the dragon stared at each other,
before Blaise gave a deep, shuddering breath.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Tighe,” he
declared, his voice deeper and huskier than normal. Sionann gave a short,
devastated gasp.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh no,” she
breathed, her hands shooting to her mouth. “That’s horrible. Poor Deirdre.” Her
eyes welled up with tears, and she threw herself into Adrian’s arms, clinging
desperately to him. Adrian’s eyes softened, and he held her close to him, rubbing
her back and whispering soothing words to her.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvFGEPnU-q525bZx2_We6Z_FFiistgyoT1YxEH0HDlD7M2NFSxjoldams4Ib-gkE9-6trB_uhbo8c4rwle3tphBz2Bc_lGttfpWm0Iauqo9qdY8dOPxn8aWRXnqzFgdNFUfZMTvElRTQ/s1600/307.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvFGEPnU-q525bZx2_We6Z_FFiistgyoT1YxEH0HDlD7M2NFSxjoldams4Ib-gkE9-6trB_uhbo8c4rwle3tphBz2Bc_lGttfpWm0Iauqo9qdY8dOPxn8aWRXnqzFgdNFUfZMTvElRTQ/s640/307.02.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra stared at
the scene in front of her, eyes flitting from one person to the next as she
tried to figure out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what the hell </i>was
going on.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Uhm, a little
explanation, guys?” she asked impatiently. Adrian, the dear soul that he was,
glanced up at her, his arms still wrapped tightly around his lover. The corners
of his eyes were tight with sadness.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“One of our
comrades just died,” he informed Lyra. “Mortis,” and he nodded at the death
dragon still perched on Blaise’s arm, “is Lord Leneo’s dragon. Whenever there’s
a death in our community from an attack, Mortis goes out and informs everyone.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5a15EjEdoDrEVr94-J5WHPKGoHUkroW1iBEPOKSGawmkfVRo7MNze_CAP9dWAY7DbbDAjY43U1gZBan0JddxRiGefQQQCwS3lTavduMn2hK81HwCGg2Iy9Lt2Sgz2munLZ7lB3AH68ZE/s1600/307.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5a15EjEdoDrEVr94-J5WHPKGoHUkroW1iBEPOKSGawmkfVRo7MNze_CAP9dWAY7DbbDAjY43U1gZBan0JddxRiGefQQQCwS3lTavduMn2hK81HwCGg2Iy9Lt2Sgz2munLZ7lB3AH68ZE/s640/307.03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra gasped. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbbob, </i>that was horrible. Judging
from Sionann’s reaction, they must have been pretty close to this person. ‘From
an attack’? Did that mean…was it the Wilds that had killed this person?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Shit,” she
breathed, horrified. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Fuck,” Blaise
whispered, his face twisted in a grimace. “Sionann, this isn’t the time to cry.
We need to get to the base before Deirdre does something stupid.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The fairy in
question gave one last shuddering breath before she looked up from where she
had buried her head against Adrian’s chest. He loosened his hold around Sionann
and allowed her to draw away.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIuSiLMLfRki2a3D5PobsgZ6oVL6yaF6qLfSlbiTSoo99mtqi3WU0neJxUJXF4Hv25C_HgxJCb2xh_Mjo60TWMxqzBJOKvo1s6MABcQHcTiExH08YpmbgSzTkQvrxE_ofhrJzHw8hWew/s1600/307.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIuSiLMLfRki2a3D5PobsgZ6oVL6yaF6qLfSlbiTSoo99mtqi3WU0neJxUJXF4Hv25C_HgxJCb2xh_Mjo60TWMxqzBJOKvo1s6MABcQHcTiExH08YpmbgSzTkQvrxE_ofhrJzHw8hWew/s640/307.04.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right,” she agreed tearfully. “She’s going to
be unstable. We should go. It’ll be horrible to lose her as well.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Again, Lyra
looked at Adrian for an explanation. Plumbbob, she felt so out of the loop. Who
the heck was Deirdre? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann gave Adrian
a teary smile before she stepped aside to take Blaise’s arm. Blaise looked at
Adrian and cocked an eyebrow, wordlessly asking him if he wanted to go with
them. Adrian gave him a sad smile, but shook his head.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCb1pl91aV7zwRu4P5MchyZ6EmqqPGwR-PIzD4r2ZIWI9tYKOXH3dtKk6PbEvECn-AyPBkdxRb5wbMfsP3cGu0Run-Wo0I1Hv-g2F3ZL6U-tm4oyQuOfu1ILpbwM3ci7VO61AuaJv8kc/s1600/307.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCb1pl91aV7zwRu4P5MchyZ6EmqqPGwR-PIzD4r2ZIWI9tYKOXH3dtKk6PbEvECn-AyPBkdxRb5wbMfsP3cGu0Run-Wo0I1Hv-g2F3ZL6U-tm4oyQuOfu1ILpbwM3ci7VO61AuaJv8kc/s640/307.05.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll stay here, with Lyra,” he decided.
Blaise simply nodded and gave a sharp whistle, and he and Sionann disappeared
along with the dragon.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Who’s Deidre?”
Lyra asked softly. She wasn’t particularly mad that Adrian had decided for her
that they should stay. She didn’t know the deceased at all, so she had no
intense desire to go to the base. Although, judging by their reactions, it
almost seemed like everyone was more worried about this Deidre? She had no idea
what the significance was.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian sighed,
and swept his hand through his hair, a sure sign that he was upset.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1uRrNkQAIMUawmrqNoZQ8f6playOTBnvtGs1REZVnqBU_o8e-Cj2FqpNnBcTdWnLGFAKkbX-rzXaibx0NAb_0R51e3w8T9xLugySW5_cGk0WuI9Lg_VC5HnSoTHFaMmbjpSuJzqFDIo/s1600/307.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1uRrNkQAIMUawmrqNoZQ8f6playOTBnvtGs1REZVnqBU_o8e-Cj2FqpNnBcTdWnLGFAKkbX-rzXaibx0NAb_0R51e3w8T9xLugySW5_cGk0WuI9Lg_VC5HnSoTHFaMmbjpSuJzqFDIo/s640/307.06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Tighe’s bonded,” he explained tightly. “A
fairy.” He seemed to realise how utterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">useless
</i>that answer was, as he gave a sigh and elaborated. “Fairies bond for life.
They go about their entire lives searching for someone to love, to bond with,
as their full powers are only unlocked when they experience ‘true love’.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“True love’s
first kiss?” Lyra asked sceptically. Really. Could things get even more cliché
and fairy-tale-ish?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian shook his
head in denial. “Not quite,” he denied. “It’s rather more…” He tilted his hand
side to side as he hedged around, trying to find the words. “Okay, look,
fairies are magical. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Very </i>magical,
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very </i>powerful. They’re probably
the most powerful of the classes, but you will very rarely hear about their
powers, because of their nature.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Meaning?” Lyra
asked, crossing her arms.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qfdFxQFWsk4Zqac4wHNunAi5XnsIpyrYMygsbQg75rGvAeCqJPaqVQ0gx-ET36cidvuQnpYhOjyPd4LLSZxpsbK7pdbnM6gSOkzDo3u1O9Htgyz0Ha9cY8EeScdo0xS9FbH0zLzCIDs/s1600/307.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qfdFxQFWsk4Zqac4wHNunAi5XnsIpyrYMygsbQg75rGvAeCqJPaqVQ0gx-ET36cidvuQnpYhOjyPd4LLSZxpsbK7pdbnM6gSOkzDo3u1O9Htgyz0Ha9cY8EeScdo0xS9FbH0zLzCIDs/s640/307.07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Meaning,” Adrian continued, “that their true
powers are only unlocked when they experience the strongest of emotions. They
are neither good nor evil, but they have a capacity for both. When they find
someone to love with their whole heart, completely and absolutely, without
hesitation, someone they’d willingly bond themselves to, the ‘good’ aspect of
their personalities reign. The ‘evil’ aspect of their personalities reign when
they experience the exact opposite.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So, when they
hate someone?” Lyra guessed. Adrian shook his head.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Grief</i>,” he corrected sadly. “Hate and
love are two sides across the same line. It’s the same emotion, essentially,
and hate will never be stronger than love. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">grief</i>…love will take you to the sky, while grief will throw you in
the deepest, darkest abyss.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf2aoqIm0JFv6tKUJm-KKejCgDh120S8pUeZcHhyphenhyphenJ1cHPWVCYxN00n119SUQvvNqs_lXKWS5B2UocK6HotbEZpnc60M9zyJIyLfQ-2nikHsQ48bSNij_fjCLm7JFWJI51xGLBr6KK9GU/s1600/307.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf2aoqIm0JFv6tKUJm-KKejCgDh120S8pUeZcHhyphenhyphenJ1cHPWVCYxN00n119SUQvvNqs_lXKWS5B2UocK6HotbEZpnc60M9zyJIyLfQ-2nikHsQ48bSNij_fjCLm7JFWJI51xGLBr6KK9GU/s640/307.08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“When a fairy loves completely and utterly,
they are the sweet, gentle creatures most people know, who’ll go out of their
way to ensure there is more good in the world,” he continued. “But when they
grieve…when they have loved so completely, and then had that person <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ripped away </i>from them…they descent into a
deep, deep madness they cannot get out of. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tighe</i>,”
he returned to the topic at hand, “was Deirdre’s bonded – her love.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">And now the source of her grief</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, Lyra understood. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How
absolutely horrific. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuY1JUQX9NrBtMyA7v-8LlbbVozpL1KaSa-AB3c8sWdRdTz8QExkiUd39V4dde8YlAYpBHVGiQw1v6K7KCR77tKD27eQXOV1MuSe-KRxtAMceZjXzpd0e6BSp5fA9r8bXijlqqaVv2g8/s1600/307.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuY1JUQX9NrBtMyA7v-8LlbbVozpL1KaSa-AB3c8sWdRdTz8QExkiUd39V4dde8YlAYpBHVGiQw1v6K7KCR77tKD27eQXOV1MuSe-KRxtAMceZjXzpd0e6BSp5fA9r8bXijlqqaVv2g8/s640/307.09.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian closed his
eyes and bowed his head, silently grieving not only for Tighe, the deceased,
but also for Deidre, who in effect, they were also going to lose, not to death,
but to madness. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra couldn’t
possibly break the heavy silence that had fallen in the house. The raindrops
pitter-pattered endlessly on the roof, and then, as if even the weather could
feel the heaviness in the house, the clouds opened up and the rain started <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pouring</i>.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_e0bmsPRZHo6IXD6qQBWDZHFC-WXyNdfrrvCYLViNOt6HivgGpJ9-o4GhMrcPtVKiabAyBzcgZ8b28nJL6Y1G6F5djTFeUKnHLaC0H4ea6j2ON3oHjIwX4sv-_4z8wvSm8WFadX3a5rE/s1600/307.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_e0bmsPRZHo6IXD6qQBWDZHFC-WXyNdfrrvCYLViNOt6HivgGpJ9-o4GhMrcPtVKiabAyBzcgZ8b28nJL6Y1G6F5djTFeUKnHLaC0H4ea6j2ON3oHjIwX4sv-_4z8wvSm8WFadX3a5rE/s640/307.10.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was several,
long hours that passed before Blaise and Sionann returned from the base.
Sionann immediately threw herself back in Adrian’s arms, looking for comfort.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Sionann’s a fairy</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, Lyra
came to the sudden realisation. Of course, she’d always known, but she hadn’t
understood what it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">meant</i>. It suddenly
made sense, why Sionann was so clingy and lovey-dovey with Adrian, and why
Adrian was so tolerant of her spontaneous shows of affection. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Adrian was her love.</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20VG67Pyoqp0DvMUq6adfCOu1JARzyf0iI0GLODld0JSQY-O42r_C7CHt9Wtdd_UIXipUIrqoiZSBcpDLrw0nEbbc0Oa_-CAzOg-MFoqnPc0kX2Q9-Rn1Zvtn-tg0h8i3yaP6GkyJgBw/s1600/307.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20VG67Pyoqp0DvMUq6adfCOu1JARzyf0iI0GLODld0JSQY-O42r_C7CHt9Wtdd_UIXipUIrqoiZSBcpDLrw0nEbbc0Oa_-CAzOg-MFoqnPc0kX2Q9-Rn1Zvtn-tg0h8i3yaP6GkyJgBw/s640/307.11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She’s lost,” Sionann informed Adrian, sobbing
into his chest. Adrian sighed and pulled her closer, and it was such an
intensely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">private </i>moment that Lyra
immediately excused herself from the scene, giving them some time alone. She
had no right to intrude on that moment. From the corner of her eye, she saw
Blaise scowl and exit the house as well.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spent a long,
long time in the garden, unwilling to go back into the house and intrude.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9b0g0zng9CU88M17FdDdNZPdCYaEbAHBTJrCzEPKIfzVnSCHN6SWtHLCjcaw53E6AdWVJ4tHGT5s2KKT8rd84xILkCEficoe5KPNOKzw1j27KE4Ag7QDHZs3fGjPTOag3b3mLDKqyo0/s1600/307.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9b0g0zng9CU88M17FdDdNZPdCYaEbAHBTJrCzEPKIfzVnSCHN6SWtHLCjcaw53E6AdWVJ4tHGT5s2KKT8rd84xILkCEficoe5KPNOKzw1j27KE4Ag7QDHZs3fGjPTOag3b3mLDKqyo0/s640/307.12.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">People grieve in strange ways, </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra mused as she listened to the conversation flowing around her.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzl9BEUtcJ7NWPXgStjv6JoIaaaaM_ZPhIFIVBXDmGjzQxkXp4vDwKWfLA259tQzlQmVvA9q-_rfCrJo87EXmdroEgDblQWOwTcfFp-C2f3x6_ZBXwuO0AEO3k42b7in1rWagQ-gsofh8/s1600/307.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzl9BEUtcJ7NWPXgStjv6JoIaaaaM_ZPhIFIVBXDmGjzQxkXp4vDwKWfLA259tQzlQmVvA9q-_rfCrJo87EXmdroEgDblQWOwTcfFp-C2f3x6_ZBXwuO0AEO3k42b7in1rWagQ-gsofh8/s640/307.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They were all
sitting in the living room, various forms of hot and cold drinks in their
hands, and a very amiable feel had settled over them. Sionann was snuggling a
bit too close to Adrian, the only sign that she was still upset, but she was
laughing at a tale Blaise had told about Tighe making a fool out of himself.
Her laughter was pealing in the room like little silver bells, Adrian’s
heartfelt chuckles forming a warm counterpoint. Even Blaise’s constant scowl
had evened out a bit as a fond smile pulled at his mouth.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They were
grieving over their comrade, but they did it in such a positive way,
remembering the good times.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjw-QLqGa1Ugew3q2l4YTFF4MZ0e7kiG61QdmhrOZX2Op1Bk6kSHn_DGVILy9zk7On3CzyqKJFdFbNv8CfCs4TM4f64Z6yhJdImDdyqHE3SxtLdc3RD5PLp9muBFq1F2FrSnncZzj5yk/s1600/307.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjw-QLqGa1Ugew3q2l4YTFF4MZ0e7kiG61QdmhrOZX2Op1Bk6kSHn_DGVILy9zk7On3CzyqKJFdFbNv8CfCs4TM4f64Z6yhJdImDdyqHE3SxtLdc3RD5PLp9muBFq1F2FrSnncZzj5yk/s640/307.14.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">That hadn’t been
the way her family had grieved, after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that
night</i>. Instead, there had only been silence, as everybody had tip-toed around
the topic, unwilling to face reality. Paired with the way Arienne had ripped
into Renard, blaming him for the entire event, it was no wonder it had taken Lyra
so long to come to terms with it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">If they had
talked like this after the funeral, remembering the good times, would her
family still be whole? She wished she knew. But it didn’t really matter, in the
end. They hadn’t, and her family had been broken apart. There was nothing she
could do to change the past.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhYjLBJujR-2tW0oLropb1BApDLd8tQAx4cLU_x0B_AWM_594b5WZPULVtuiZX3MeAXCDvfKKQ1m6jajqQ0eOac0XJkaBL5VkFF4v_Fn_FnqclTwIMwE5BXxVzycOUJo9x70syKWypsk/s1600/307.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZhYjLBJujR-2tW0oLropb1BApDLd8tQAx4cLU_x0B_AWM_594b5WZPULVtuiZX3MeAXCDvfKKQ1m6jajqQ0eOac0XJkaBL5VkFF4v_Fn_FnqclTwIMwE5BXxVzycOUJo9x70syKWypsk/s640/307.15.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She wished she
could see them though, even if only one more time. Did they miss her? Did they
even realise she’d gone, or did they think she simply left for a different town
without bothering to let anyone know? If they did realise, did they think she
died? And if that was the case, did that bring them closer, or tore them apart
even further?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She swallowed
heavily at the lump in her throat. All things she’d never get the answer to.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“- Keeper, was it
funny,” Adrian’s laughing voice pulled her out of her depressing thoughts. “I
thought he was going to die of embarrassment. There he stood, mighty powerful
fairy that he was, completely powerless to push away one measly little human
girl, who was utterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">entranced </i>by
the way his wings fluttered in embarrassment, and wouldn’t stop trying to touch
them. It. Was. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hilarious.</i>”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjdoRT02kWTc-2DoACiVWmikymPP-kxrIM-HpA94u7xGCdM4zPHSF0-OYQSnAeTNlaZ9SiZiDXIX6UDhhAgRjrh41I-2if_8UOHdAeUfymiYjkrPLcEQ5pNuyVjYxlNfHPlHFXSMn0Gc/s1600/307.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFjdoRT02kWTc-2DoACiVWmikymPP-kxrIM-HpA94u7xGCdM4zPHSF0-OYQSnAeTNlaZ9SiZiDXIX6UDhhAgRjrh41I-2if_8UOHdAeUfymiYjkrPLcEQ5pNuyVjYxlNfHPlHFXSMn0Gc/s640/307.16.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The room burst
out in laughter again. It made Lyra wish she knew this Tighe, if only a little.
The stories were funny, but she had absolutely no context, no understanding of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who </i>he was, so they were funny in the
way inside jokes were to bystanders.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And of course
the more flustered he’d get, the more his wings would flutter, so the more
entranced the little girl would get!” Sionann gasped in laughter. Blaise’s deep
laughter rang with hers when Adrian confirmed it with a nod, unable to confirm
it verbally as he tried holding his laughter back, before he finally gave up
and joined the chorus of laughter.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzQ3FlnMjn5nROS7BMkFjoQcQpAQu-R3NV8ktnLzEwWJ-2Nm9e_EdRYZdtNXAfRvFqE6oOeoMh9FPVKmrFMzQcM93ynn7kDl87KZ80rGjsT8nSCz-X3LKR9KbfuF7gVB_zWtzEsSlFPU/s1600/307.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzQ3FlnMjn5nROS7BMkFjoQcQpAQu-R3NV8ktnLzEwWJ-2Nm9e_EdRYZdtNXAfRvFqE6oOeoMh9FPVKmrFMzQcM93ynn7kDl87KZ80rGjsT8nSCz-X3LKR9KbfuF7gVB_zWtzEsSlFPU/s640/307.17.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…Come to think of
it, Lyra couldn’t recall <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>seeing
a child since she came to this world.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“There aren’t a
lot of children here, are there?” she asked curiously, interrupting the
laughter. Adrian wiped a few mirthful tears from his eyes before he turned to
her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Virtually none,”
he confirmed, still chuckling. “It’s about the only rule Lady Alison absolutely
enforces. Children are vulnerable and precious, so they have to be protected,
especially from the Wilds. There is a barrier around the island, and entry and
departure from the ports are strictly regulated, so the Wilds can’t reach the
mainland. When someone expects a child, Lady Alison sends them to the mainland
to raise their child, sending them beyond the reach of those who would harm
them.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCZUKeLqWSuUcFFTtye7CsKPIzrsOmJcqVQaJ9BO2kROPF8zkoe9v-wubfTTpD-iaheHuKcgOkVPPBK1ys-KnCTejP7oT3iC3mn5Rvl3Ac9kLUXxWPAVDJr3egeeyJoe5EcUrG5uAaJU/s1600/307.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCZUKeLqWSuUcFFTtye7CsKPIzrsOmJcqVQaJ9BO2kROPF8zkoe9v-wubfTTpD-iaheHuKcgOkVPPBK1ys-KnCTejP7oT3iC3mn5Rvl3Ac9kLUXxWPAVDJr3egeeyJoe5EcUrG5uAaJU/s640/307.18.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, just like that, people have to change
their lives and give up their homes just because they’re having a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">child</i>?” Lyra asked incredulously.
“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And raising a
child in the middle of a battlefield is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fair</i>?”
Blaise growled pointedly, his customary scowl back on his face. “This is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">frontlines</i>. Anybody who would willingly
raise a child here doesn’t deserve the name of parent.” He glared at her, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daring </i>her to disagree. She couldn’t, so
she jerked her gaze away, breaking the glare.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Fair enough,”
she mulishly conceded the point, chafing at the fact that she was conceding
victory to him.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65pEVPls0w7mTsfkMxSRIUh2qPPNrQo6auzsCjKkV-ce8vHa22bA6tnuYu-HIgZS7vFmkd1otyCnvDk0F_uYQ5-6tATy6WGd70nXoRG64CUlkU9gTWLE1rD_cmvcrL_qz1rMNLiFLKso/s1600/307.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65pEVPls0w7mTsfkMxSRIUh2qPPNrQo6auzsCjKkV-ce8vHa22bA6tnuYu-HIgZS7vFmkd1otyCnvDk0F_uYQ5-6tATy6WGd70nXoRG64CUlkU9gTWLE1rD_cmvcrL_qz1rMNLiFLKso/s640/307.19.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Anyway,” Sionann interrupted with an excited
clap of her hands, changing the topic and trying to break the atmosphere before
the two of them got into an argument, “I made some apple cobbler. Would anybody
like to try some?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise gave Lyra
once last glare before he turned away, accepting the peace-making attempt.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGVcwyR6vCnLKDsQ-w8L0OTs6137nGrpT7ZmKqr_7m8sdD0rjTNLIdS80-G-V6kJnLHqAdkOHCRRjBC93NesCac3IXjZgMjxYLs8U92fyWFGHaqnNZdXZDDeURbVpJ6WFl87adMCoo2k/s1600/307.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGVcwyR6vCnLKDsQ-w8L0OTs6137nGrpT7ZmKqr_7m8sdD0rjTNLIdS80-G-V6kJnLHqAdkOHCRRjBC93NesCac3IXjZgMjxYLs8U92fyWFGHaqnNZdXZDDeURbVpJ6WFl87adMCoo2k/s640/307.20.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“By the way,” Sionann proposed, much, much
later, long after the pieces of cobbler were finished, “I’ve been thinking…”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“A dangerous
activity, that,” Blaise interjected with a mildly sarcastic growl, causing Adrian
to chuckle. Sionann huffed and rolled her eyes at him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Very funny,
Blaise,” she mildly reprimanded. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As I
was saying</i>…I think we should show Lyra some of the basics of self-defence.
Living on this island, it’s always a good idea to know how to protect
yourself.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The proposal hung
heavily in the air, and it took Lyra a couple of seconds to process the words.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj3_xT4YApY_olmzZCL77IgcptQbHcn7uEdw-c4wHQ8NQDox8ONuGZ3KChDkjwmfg4Vc89ragq9TxCgNlO0LBxBRy0n19nEjLcPa0ypO8dnvAMaZO2Os-rXLwT9Xy3DYEke5WspuXxtA/s1600/307.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj3_xT4YApY_olmzZCL77IgcptQbHcn7uEdw-c4wHQ8NQDox8ONuGZ3KChDkjwmfg4Vc89ragq9TxCgNlO0LBxBRy0n19nEjLcPa0ypO8dnvAMaZO2Os-rXLwT9Xy3DYEke5WspuXxtA/s640/307.21.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Wait, what?” she asked incredulously. “Don’t
I get a say in this?” She actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wouldn’t
</i>mind learning some self-defence tricks, but seriously? Could they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop </i>making her decisions for her?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, it is a
good idea,” Adrian pragmatically pointed out. Even Blaise seemed to consider
the idea, that customary scowl of his replaced by a contemplative expression as
he studied Lyra. He seemed to come to a decision and smirked at Lyra, and the
gleam in his eyes did nothing to reassure her. It was positively <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">evil</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUYVMBBeuTz1IQMgO0vOiGCaAhEEBCpwsIq2LcO1HvH2VVfo2kHeVWgOcXYfXvGiENwvzJDGtmhwWdQYV59CkTtmovlYp-OUlov5xry7E-uQlY7jseV6HLmCnMgoxFHgRoK49D80etGg/s1600/307.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUYVMBBeuTz1IQMgO0vOiGCaAhEEBCpwsIq2LcO1HvH2VVfo2kHeVWgOcXYfXvGiENwvzJDGtmhwWdQYV59CkTtmovlYp-OUlov5xry7E-uQlY7jseV6HLmCnMgoxFHgRoK49D80etGg/s640/307.22.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sure, why not?”
he growled his agreement. “I’ll show her some tricks.” There was a challenge
gleaming in his eyes, and there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no
way in hell </i>Lyra was going to back down from that.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Bring it on,”
she challenged with a sweet smile.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7lKbbHu4ujJuMo2aLowa_2LUAAIsdv68ysQ2iJ7YmAEPXdmJwH-3X29fflMk2XxY4XYMrCXfRxfy7CFQO2zX7Z0-RfEmS3JIbGvwk3NB_knPn7jMMvm_N7JUit0k68U9nEk2dpLtERE/s1600/307.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7lKbbHu4ujJuMo2aLowa_2LUAAIsdv68ysQ2iJ7YmAEPXdmJwH-3X29fflMk2XxY4XYMrCXfRxfy7CFQO2zX7Z0-RfEmS3JIbGvwk3NB_knPn7jMMvm_N7JUit0k68U9nEk2dpLtERE/s640/307.23.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">What </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">had she been
thinking?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Staring at the
muscled monster of flesh standing in front of her, Lyra felt dread rising in
her chest. Seriously, what had she been thinking? There must have been
something illegal in Sionann’s cobbler to make her agree to this absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ridiculous </i>idea. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Blaise was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fighter</i>. He was part of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hunt</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He killed beings for a living!</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She was so, so,
utterly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fucked</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM62YBg3vcih4NzijP8aB7nb7GA8_q3rruvARAPFE5sIgajrNu-ZpA64pc2MsL4rUyVprRsEwMqP9o_jZwTHl8S8yDvNMZhPUOYT1fhLams32am5nsFXIhR0sFZonqi87hCzrMN9OMiY/s1600/307.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM62YBg3vcih4NzijP8aB7nb7GA8_q3rruvARAPFE5sIgajrNu-ZpA64pc2MsL4rUyVprRsEwMqP9o_jZwTHl8S8yDvNMZhPUOYT1fhLams32am5nsFXIhR0sFZonqi87hCzrMN9OMiY/s640/307.24.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise, the
arrogant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ass</i>, seemed to read her mind
as he suddenly smirked at her, that same evil, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">evil </i>gleam in his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Having doubts?”
he mocked her, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">goddammit, </i>Lyra
had to do something about her ridiculous sense of pride.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course not,”
she snarled, both at him and herself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get
it together, dammit!</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Know any martial
arts?” he asked, pacing around her like a predator circling its prey, studying
her with contemplative eyes. She felt like a piece of meat, about to get torn
to shreds by something much, much bigger and stronger than her.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZI013hsooi9Xkkq8q4ZybOnbZDcNCPtqcnkVIJH8Ex8x4e7zla9K-O9_bYyb8pzkbDrIySbq-AokbBRDZB4qJyUyNS2-d7hKBaDP12jTq6wYJMSIh49b2Qilv5JuBCahu2whBb7heOQ/s1600/307.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZI013hsooi9Xkkq8q4ZybOnbZDcNCPtqcnkVIJH8Ex8x4e7zla9K-O9_bYyb8pzkbDrIySbq-AokbBRDZB4qJyUyNS2-d7hKBaDP12jTq6wYJMSIh49b2Qilv5JuBCahu2whBb7heOQ/s640/307.25.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,” she admitted with gritted teeth, once
again remembering how utterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid </i>this
idea was.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Good,” Blaise
growled with satisfaction. “It means I have a clean slate to work with. Now,
follow my movements.” He flowed gracefully into a stance, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob, </i>Lyra would pull a muscle if she
tried to do the same. She gritted her teeth and tried her best to duplicate his
stance.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was a
spectacular failure.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Bring your feet
closer together,” Blaise instructed shortly. “You’re off-balance. A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feather </i>landing on you will cause you to
fall over.”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQsbolk93W5P8loc64-BD2tCkmmjBfZD8OQzusZR5qDcD9w3MHk_9fhZYN4lGYw69DAvWc2ECz1NEtvqhO6cbOIw3nH5SxLpXt-_0GIa37iqF-vjQptnIca07oDg5JNbPqjZApii2KPE/s1600/307.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQsbolk93W5P8loc64-BD2tCkmmjBfZD8OQzusZR5qDcD9w3MHk_9fhZYN4lGYw69DAvWc2ECz1NEtvqhO6cbOIw3nH5SxLpXt-_0GIa37iqF-vjQptnIca07oDg5JNbPqjZApii2KPE/s640/307.26.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra gritted her
teeth and did as he instructed, but he still wasn’t satisfied.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Twist your chest
a bit more to the right, and bring up your arm.” A moment of irritated silence
later. “No, idiot, your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other </i>arm.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You really suck
at instructing, you know,” Lyra snapped irritably at him. He growled, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actually growled</i>, at her and pushed her
shoulder back a finger length. From the side, Lyra could hear Adrian chuckle,
but she resolutely pushed it to the back of her mind. She had to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">focus</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuGOrNhihe-PwZsR0ihxQv4FNaSrzjOAS5jqz5KkXzWfNKjz_OREOAvyPlCjJnxPWKw8R3dzQeleaDznA8zq6KBeAQIPgxTt_3FvAxxZ17B-UNJz0nkOARtYBOagblwFvx9IuO9EzoRo/s1600/307.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuGOrNhihe-PwZsR0ihxQv4FNaSrzjOAS5jqz5KkXzWfNKjz_OREOAvyPlCjJnxPWKw8R3dzQeleaDznA8zq6KBeAQIPgxTt_3FvAxxZ17B-UNJz0nkOARtYBOagblwFvx9IuO9EzoRo/s640/307.27.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re the one with absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no </i>awareness of your body,” Blaise
growled and tapped her elbow, lowering it a fraction. “Now, stay like that.
When I reach for you, raise your arm like this,” he paused a moment to
demonstrate the movement. Lyra clumsily tried to imitate the movement, and once
again she was met with Blaise’s irritated scowl.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">holy hell, </i>she could even start to
differentiate between his scowls.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No, </i>you idiot, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t</i> move your shoulder,” he barked at her. She scowled venomously
and tried her best to follow his orders. Again, her movement was met with complete
disapproval.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu5T3ldYn0nq_7GpK1cfsoMr6Km9CvYS5dQxYGxbwC4OaW0wD33VeMCVU7wBWNdEq4SW6fxkvLiUqV-t82lzDwhA_hP2jsKlDGBtCRJFXxvigmiFJn5u0wyXadnyGPG2FXp8M5cMP6eg/s1600/307.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu5T3ldYn0nq_7GpK1cfsoMr6Km9CvYS5dQxYGxbwC4OaW0wD33VeMCVU7wBWNdEq4SW6fxkvLiUqV-t82lzDwhA_hP2jsKlDGBtCRJFXxvigmiFJn5u0wyXadnyGPG2FXp8M5cMP6eg/s640/307.28.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’ve got absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no </i>talent for this,” he declared a moment later. “Keeper, it isn’t
that difficult. How hard is it to copy someone?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maybe,</i>” Lyra snapped fiercely, her eyes
blazing with anger, “if you weren’t so utterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">useless </i>at explaining something <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it
wouldn’t be so difficult</i>!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">That same fire
that blazed in her eyes appeared in Blaise’s.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maybe</i>,” he growled menacingly, “if you
had an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ounce </i>of athletic ability you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wouldn’t find it so difficult</i>!”</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpGQOtgCEDl8gxwiXCNMCGWzHrPYf8Icm-Mlyfms07oTnAc6SOzXr9jTideZ629QdCAnsJvG8Q8JghQniRzfWCPKptacCD36harbjvkFAeiZez1EzLdgQMpKHzKfQ5m_jkVUf0_1y3rw/s1600/307.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNpGQOtgCEDl8gxwiXCNMCGWzHrPYf8Icm-Mlyfms07oTnAc6SOzXr9jTideZ629QdCAnsJvG8Q8JghQniRzfWCPKptacCD36harbjvkFAeiZez1EzLdgQMpKHzKfQ5m_jkVUf0_1y3rw/s640/307.29.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann clapped
her hands together, breaking up the imminent fight.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Okay,” she
announced sweetly, “I think that’s enough for tonight. Give Lyra some time to
process it, yes?” She stared expectantly at Blaise until he stepped out of
Lyra’s space with a low growl. And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when </i>had
he gotten so close?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra tossed her
hair back over her shoulder and tried to recompose herself, willing her racing
heart to calm down. There was just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something
</i>in that ass that always managed to bring out the worst in her.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqblnkrXyymE_fCYu3BPxJYzaMw0kKsMPW3-ULxJjeTPH9kPtNqlfEKf4iCq5g-T7QxAVPYyYyofCe6IjqeqDHEBVfPPHmz42z-y1tl5nIJWpEkVgRNwcgsgBS51fw8bRSbEGaacalXIo/s1600/307.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqblnkrXyymE_fCYu3BPxJYzaMw0kKsMPW3-ULxJjeTPH9kPtNqlfEKf4iCq5g-T7QxAVPYyYyofCe6IjqeqDHEBVfPPHmz42z-y1tl5nIJWpEkVgRNwcgsgBS51fw8bRSbEGaacalXIo/s640/307.30.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This isn’t over,” Blaise declared ominously.
“Practise what I showed you, and we’ll see if tomorrow goes any better.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And so Lyra’s
months of hell began.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyy-w8ombEaDAKa-2i5-EYulCQUtoWqbPM2PK5w0vwUPWjseRII6urR1hP8pOQnF5qNpvEXO7lmDhodmB4DeEnb6_h5tSb6L4DAfQMXlEMfLiBfJ1IEr6jB3cbpleXIKtqI3vOt_rpIs/s1600/307.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyy-w8ombEaDAKa-2i5-EYulCQUtoWqbPM2PK5w0vwUPWjseRII6urR1hP8pOQnF5qNpvEXO7lmDhodmB4DeEnb6_h5tSb6L4DAfQMXlEMfLiBfJ1IEr6jB3cbpleXIKtqI3vOt_rpIs/s640/307.31.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Again,” Blaise ordered from his seat on the stairs,
his entire presence radiating boredom. He watched with half-lidded eyes as Lyra
smoothly repeated the movement, her limbs flowing gracefully into the new
stance, and she couldn’t quite suppress the flicker of satisfaction in her
heart.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loved </i>martial arts.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, she had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>it, at the start. She couldn’t get
anything right, and Blaise was a ridiculously hard taskmaster, refusing to move
onto anything new until she completed each movement with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absolute perfection. </i></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwHNCP6EAtX3xDlPuWHPpz-bm-yUOirFwjdhyEZIcJP2N76TLFk28G6lMwV0nIKbRVAkYsFTu1dr6ZrRUHuaXjeiPSa0uvREqkV8g1sOLoS79c0flNY2YyQ_who_GavlMdy2H27vZr6g/s1600/307.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwHNCP6EAtX3xDlPuWHPpz-bm-yUOirFwjdhyEZIcJP2N76TLFk28G6lMwV0nIKbRVAkYsFTu1dr6ZrRUHuaXjeiPSa0uvREqkV8g1sOLoS79c0flNY2YyQ_who_GavlMdy2H27vZr6g/s640/307.32.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The first couple
of weeks had been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell</i>, and there
hadn’t been a single night she’d gone to bed without fresh bruises and screaming
muscles, but then a day came when she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got
the movement</i>, Blaise’s mouth quirked in satisfaction, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>, it was the best feeling she’d ever<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>experienced. Not because Blaise was
satisfied, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh no</i>, never that. It was
just an absolutely indescribable feel to know exactly what she wanted, how to
do it, and have her body respond <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfectly</i>.
</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She just couldn’t
get enough of it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Passable,” Blaise murmured and stood up,
shrugging off the outer layer of his shirt as he did so. The days were starting
to get chillier, and while Lyra knew winter was still a little over a year
away, the chill in the air some days tried its best to convince her otherwise.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He took a stance
in front of her, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet and rolling his
shoulders, loosening his muscles. Lyra felt a flicker of anticipation at the
sight. They were going to spar. They didn’t spar often, as Blaise was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way </i>too stubborn on getting her to
perfect the movements, and he was a firm believer of practice makes perfect,
but when they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>spar…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damn, </i>it was good. The thrill, the
speed, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fear</i>, the way he
constantly pushed her more and more until <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just
</i>before she reached her limits…it was a dance she was absolutely addicted
to.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1Yy1l5DlKHWx3aMuRE2vjcio6rFV9yNdQOiXiYne9Dm318JzAdMsWBW0AGNqKOv2py3lcPMahowQfGbzZbYeTSkz5sgc-BI-BBoEU-wjl6Oi8ncUEwb_iY1WZ85iCKt6kNg6pj1gnOA/s1600/307.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1Yy1l5DlKHWx3aMuRE2vjcio6rFV9yNdQOiXiYne9Dm318JzAdMsWBW0AGNqKOv2py3lcPMahowQfGbzZbYeTSkz5sgc-BI-BBoEU-wjl6Oi8ncUEwb_iY1WZ85iCKt6kNg6pj1gnOA/s640/307.34.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">For all her
bluster that first night of instruction, Blaise was actually an incredibly<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>good instructor. Not that she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>admit it out loud.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He rolled his
head on his neck, his entire body still the picture of boredom.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Now, let’s see
if you can apply that in practice,” he declared, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moved</i>. Lyra saw the punch coming and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">responded</i>, twisting her body out of the way in a graceful dance and
going on the offensive herself. Her kick was, as always, met by an immovable
defence.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0Z_5FNL3s58QUjhmV8vO8kG0min7tTQzuaHmyVMOa4PC-a_QRcEo7W3ue5vUE83g0jwt0GIJUsPt9Vm6hGxCY8jio0Ain-msQmrbwwxdf-BAOcYv_LkW45-b0n5Asi9tersUNrYhyphenhyphene4/s1600/307.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0Z_5FNL3s58QUjhmV8vO8kG0min7tTQzuaHmyVMOa4PC-a_QRcEo7W3ue5vUE83g0jwt0GIJUsPt9Vm6hGxCY8jio0Ain-msQmrbwwxdf-BAOcYv_LkW45-b0n5Asi9tersUNrYhyphenhyphene4/s640/307.35.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They continued
the spar, dancing around each other until Lyra finally saw the opportunity to
use the new move she had learned. She spun into the movement, going for the
opening and felt her heart sink when she realised Blaise had simply been
baiting her. He moved his feet a mere <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fraction</i>
and suddenly she was thrown off-balance, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he was in her space</i>, forcing her to back away.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her back hit the
wall behind her, and his hand came to a stop, way too close to her head.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You’re dead,” he
growled menacingly, the same way he always did when ending a spar. “Learn some
spatial awareness, idiot.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULngHcwPIJbAEjXNxjAqGoquH3ToATJRKPC0uaN8BbAqfm0KvGFwegUtsXQynYRkdnLO-kHZYNZqmPNv1A2BV1q2XyeU0ASfzeE3qB6ZTvYQaDVAgZl3IJ7aAkgDikmjcaP-OENgYlck/s1600/307.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULngHcwPIJbAEjXNxjAqGoquH3ToATJRKPC0uaN8BbAqfm0KvGFwegUtsXQynYRkdnLO-kHZYNZqmPNv1A2BV1q2XyeU0ASfzeE3qB6ZTvYQaDVAgZl3IJ7aAkgDikmjcaP-OENgYlck/s640/307.36.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra bit her
tongue, silently fuming at herself. She had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absolutely
</i>allowed herself to be baited into that. It wasn’t even the first time he
had pulled that move on her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">…And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">holy freak’n hell</i>, it was difficult to
concentrate when he was so close to her. She breathed heavily, silently willing
him to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">back away</i>, as she was
unwilling to let him realise just how much his proximity was bothering her. He’d
been confusing the heck out of her lately. She still couldn’t stand him, but
the months of instruction had shown her a different side to him, and he was
such a goddamn <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exhibit </i>of
testosterone that she sometimes had to stop herself from doing something outright
stupid.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi359eKnGgrqi0MWHBIga8nrUljRwAAqIa4v0VwRnzjkGnn-h32IzV_t2satykCs71qFVJS5E7aq5GierEvaspm66z7FCLRJlAYwlQqAotfKTGAF0bSRFELi2b6Q18JHQzT7spSvmdaYRc/s1600/307.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi359eKnGgrqi0MWHBIga8nrUljRwAAqIa4v0VwRnzjkGnn-h32IzV_t2satykCs71qFVJS5E7aq5GierEvaspm66z7FCLRJlAYwlQqAotfKTGAF0bSRFELi2b6Q18JHQzT7spSvmdaYRc/s640/307.37.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He was so close
to her that she could feel his breath ghosting over her lips. Unconsciously,
she flitted her tongue across her lips, wondering what it would feel like for
him to place his lips on hers and kiss her senseless. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">His pupils
dilated, and he backed away with a growl, the sound sending sparks down to her
belly. She coughed and looked away, trying to slow her racing heart. He was the
absolute <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">last </i>person she wanted to
get all hot and bothered over.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyN38_pDMkg1QRnLgpGVXhUi2iAYrCTHt4XhYbbajN7pPZwtHA9IgQF9ffA43vkxxgEqux8LbZBL4cMKrTblO6fBJSOCbkAEK3jcSwqqknLWeURrffDvF7-bfVBerkiAy3MdUb6k1QaDM/s1600/307.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyN38_pDMkg1QRnLgpGVXhUi2iAYrCTHt4XhYbbajN7pPZwtHA9IgQF9ffA43vkxxgEqux8LbZBL4cMKrTblO6fBJSOCbkAEK3jcSwqqknLWeURrffDvF7-bfVBerkiAy3MdUb6k1QaDM/s640/307.38.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’ll stop here for today,” he growled, and
seriously, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could he stop that</i>? Her
goddamn libido had enough trouble as is.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Fine,” she bit
out, very eager to remove herself from his presence. “Tomorrow, then.” It was a
little ritual they completed after each instruction session. It had started
when he’d challenged her that she wouldn’t be able to continue with the
lessons, that she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">give up</i>, and of
course there was no way in hell she’d ever give up, so she always promised to
be there for the next lesson.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He nodded curtly
before turning on his heel and walking over to his outer shirt layer. The
muscles in his shoulders pulled tight against his shirt, causing the fabric to
stretch and cling to his skin, highlighting every line.</span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She spun around,
jerking her eyes away from the sight. His footsteps crunched on the grass as he
walked away, leaving her to stand alone in the garden. When she turned around
again, he was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn’t help but sigh, both with
relief and loss.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He was going to
be the death of her. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">She wished she
understood her own heart more. She hated him, but she couldn’t deny that she
was attracted to him. It was becoming difficult to be around him and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>wonder what it would feel like to
run her hands over his chest, or feel his hands on her waist, or bury her
fingers in his hair, or<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> –</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Plumbbob, </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">she needed a
shower. A cold, cold one. Even Edwin had never turned her on quite like this,
and it definitely hadn’t been due to lack of trying.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlfHQtKYL2MKvVV-8BXmb7v8MFQd50z9CTgqWnrF1j9DDvns1pFYf98DDNmjt6XYxjaq-l2Q7V4fpH1-w4ccqSwMHBbMgLR9luqMmeETV_R4RaWVktbQat0xxHVW4Ya4ukyn4hkXceOw/s1600/307.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlfHQtKYL2MKvVV-8BXmb7v8MFQd50z9CTgqWnrF1j9DDvns1pFYf98DDNmjt6XYxjaq-l2Q7V4fpH1-w4ccqSwMHBbMgLR9luqMmeETV_R4RaWVktbQat0xxHVW4Ya4ukyn4hkXceOw/s640/307.40.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She set off
towards the house, more than ready for that shower, but before she could enter
through the door, hands pulled her away and flush against the familiar chest
she had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just </i>tried to get out of her
mind. She glared up at Blaise, but he merely shot her a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look</i>, halting her angry tirade before it began.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t
interrupt,” he ordered briskly, eyes focused on the scene inside the house.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra shoved at
him, trying to push him away, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob,
</i>he was strong. His muscles were like iron-bound logs, pinning her to place
and leaving her no room to move. It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
</i>comfortable.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Let go of me,”
she hissed dangerously, trying to keep her voice low enough that the couple
inside the house wouldn’t hear her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He did, so
abruptly she almost fell over as she was deprived of her support. She shot him
one last glare before she straightened, nonchalantly dusting off her clothes
and paying attention to the scene inside the house for the first time.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOZxzGGfUixRbv_jPBQCsvdi4iW2jJd0NOwdV20YiRd-iFWi5zQfOhmjtUvkpmm6_YiNd-u7t_SKWXMk4HeZX1AaLX3vRVlQqD2uXueA37YltIRMyhGul-gDM_QSUidywB_lssQ_SlbE/s1600/307.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOZxzGGfUixRbv_jPBQCsvdi4iW2jJd0NOwdV20YiRd-iFWi5zQfOhmjtUvkpmm6_YiNd-u7t_SKWXMk4HeZX1AaLX3vRVlQqD2uXueA37YltIRMyhGul-gDM_QSUidywB_lssQ_SlbE/s640/307.42.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It took her a
moment to process.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“…Is he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">proposing</i>?” she asked incredulously. She
shouldn’t be so surprised – Adrian and Sionann was the quintessential couple
for living the happy family life – but she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>.
Perhaps it was because she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>seen
them as the happy couple, and in her mind, they had long passed that step.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise grunted in
response.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“About fucking time,”
he murmured, whether to himself or her, Lyra had no idea. She crossed her arms,
looking closer at the scene visible through the glass door.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImE6XvsFSnPwFMrmtDDvSm65O-ov2UT-50uOT25MnutMjEL3UIrm-kkvYphzLv96fyBGHZRTxSOQ5LX3gPb1wdxrkPPdf8rH1nZMkgAZKzO2jdcXGokP33lO1HFYG3lsM3savO6jwyOw/s1600/307.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImE6XvsFSnPwFMrmtDDvSm65O-ov2UT-50uOT25MnutMjEL3UIrm-kkvYphzLv96fyBGHZRTxSOQ5LX3gPb1wdxrkPPdf8rH1nZMkgAZKzO2jdcXGokP33lO1HFYG3lsM3savO6jwyOw/s640/307.43.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I thought they
were already bonded,” Lyra admitted, a bit confused. Wasn’t that what fairies
did? Look for their true love and ‘bond’ with them? That day when Adrian had
explained a fairy’s nature to her…she had been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>sure that he was Sionann’s love.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t talk about
shit you know nothing about,” was Blaise’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh-so-helpful</i>
response.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The glare Lyra
shot him at that response spoke <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">volumes</i>.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Freaking ass</i>. Why did he have to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">such </i>an irritating, arrogant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asshole</i>?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Inside the house,
Sionann threw herself in Adrian’s arms, exuberantly accepting Adrian’s
proposal.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHneSwIpbJj08JUPVmKIfT9fwsRj8F1zlEvDxTXh61Rn5kWekDr1W9YfA8KxoMtQHy3UyTsawikIhqAYcpq0XcQyZ7uA5zL0Fk3Ro2WyD0g-3_niFMzr4tSLHzxZGEnk36UKEABHCZwZk/s1600/307.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHneSwIpbJj08JUPVmKIfT9fwsRj8F1zlEvDxTXh61Rn5kWekDr1W9YfA8KxoMtQHy3UyTsawikIhqAYcpq0XcQyZ7uA5zL0Fk3Ro2WyD0g-3_niFMzr4tSLHzxZGEnk36UKEABHCZwZk/s640/307.44.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: *Reads over
the spar scene again. Cringes* Well, I suppose that’s what happens when I try
to write romance – clichés and badly-written-fanfiction-like sexual tension. Oh
well. I enjoyed writing it. XD I’m having <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so
much fun </i>writing and shooting those two. Some of the expressions they pull
are simply brilliant. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So </i>expressive.
I love my sims. <3</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-70213423726651261452017-08-12T00:10:00.001+02:002017-08-12T00:11:58.893+02:00Chapter 3.06 - The Hunt<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><b>*Warning: Bad language*</b> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra stared at her reflection, critically inspecting the clothes she was wearing. It wasn’t her style at all, but she supposed it was pretty enough. There had been no skirts in the closet, and both the jeans and the tops were a bit more revealing than she preferred, but overall, it wasn’t too bad. It could’ve been a lot worse. At least she could still wear her preferred colours.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She smoothed her hands over the top, taking a deep breath. It was time to face the rest of her new housemates. She hadn’t ventured out of her room yet, too busy taking stock of her new belongings, and to be perfectly honest, she’d been trying to avoid meeting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that ass </i>again.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of course </i>thinking that sentence caused her mind to helpfully provide her with the images of his half-naked body. She paused irritably, leaning against the dresser and trying to force the images out of her mind. She’d admit, he had a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damn </i>good body, but that didn’t change the fact that he was big, arrogant, chauvinistic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asshole</i>. She’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gladly </i>follow his command of staying as far away from him as possible, but that would mean she’d be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">obeying his orders</i>. She couldn’t quite decide which option was worse.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The alarm clock on her bedside table beeped once, marking the new hour, simultaneously reminding her that time was passing, and no matter how tempting the thought of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never leaving her room </i>sounded, she couldn’t avoid the others forever. She exhaled irritably and smoothed the creases out of her clothes one last time before steeling herself and exiting the room.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Almost immediately, she encountered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that ass </i>(and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbbob, </i>she needed to find something else to call him). He was sitting by the table, that little red <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">monster </i>perched in front of him, greedily taking little strips of raw meat from Blaise’s fingers. It was such an utterly surreal scene that Lyra paused, staring at them in bemusement.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The little red dragon chirped happily, greedily snatching a piece of meat from Blaise before it turned its eyes on her, staring balefully. It flared its wings and screeched at Lyra, clearly warning her to stay away. To her surprise, the action caused Blaise to chuckle fondly, one corner of his mouth pulled up with amusement. The action softened his features, and for the first time Lyra could see what he looked like without a scowl marring his face.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“She’s not here to steal your food, you greedy little bastard,” he mildly rebuked the dragon, still paying Lyra absolutely no attention. The dragon chirped innocently and turned back to Blaise, eagerly watching the next strip of meat in Blaise’s hand. It was gone in the time it took Lyra to blink. The dragon crooned with disappointment when it realised the plate in front of Blaise was empty, and that there was no more food available. With a dismissive flip of its tail it curled up in front of Blaise and promptly went to sleep. Blaise simply watched it with bored eyes, clearly used to its antics.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;">“Is that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>a dragon?” Lyra asked, overcome by curiosity. She still couldn’t believe they were real. She immediately snapped her mouth closed after she asked the question, mentally kicking herself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She did not want to talk to him!</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“No, it’s a bird,” Blaise retorted, rolling his eyes at her before fixing her a baleful glare. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, </i>he’s a dragon. Why are you bothering me?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra drew herself up, ready to give him a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">piece of her mind</i>, but Sionann’s voice stopped her rant in its tracks.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Blaise,” the fairy rebuked, a faint warning in her voice. “You promised.” The words seemed to mean something to him, as he sighed in defeat and rested his head in his hand, turning his face away from Lyra, clearly done paying her attention.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see you’ve met,” Sionann addressed Lyra, giving her a smile. “Please excuse Blaise’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">horrifically </i>rude behaviour. He’s a bit of a grouch, but we still love him.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Blaise huffed disbelievingly and pushed away from the table.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“That’s it, I’m out of here,” he declared with a growl. “I don’t have to listen to this shit.”</span></span></div>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “Good,” Sionann agreed sweetly. “I’ll see you at dinner then. Oh, and if you’re going to the base, would you mind bringing back some sugar? We’re running a bit low, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate </i>tea without sugar.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Whatever,” Blaise replied, flicking his hand in dismissal (or maybe it was acknowledgement? Lyra didn’t know him well enough to tell) before stalking across the room to leave the house. Seconds later he was gone, leaving only the two women and the fast-asleep dragon in the house.</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann simply shook her head, a fond smile on her face.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t let him get to you,” she told Lyra warmly, still staring at the door Blaise had disappeared through. “He acts terribly rude most of the time, and he needs some manners, but his heart’s in the right place. Blaise is one of the most dependable people I know. He’s like a brother to me and Adrian.” She clapped her hands together and turned her gaze back to Lyra. “Now. Have you settled in okay?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Ah, yes,” Lyra agreed, a little taken off-guard by the swift change of topic. “I guess.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Good!” Sionann enthused happily. “I’m so glad I’m not the only woman in this house anymore. I love A and B, but they’re out of the house <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so often</i>, and when they’re back they only talk about the Hunt. I’ve been dying for some proper conversation.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “Uhm, yeah. Right,” Lyra agreed hesitantly, suddenly reminded of the first time she had heard that term. She never <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>gotten clarification on that. “Mind explaining what exactly the Hunt is? Everybody’s been mentioning it and I have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh! Right,” Sionann exclaimed, sheepish. “I keep forgetting you don’t know this stuff. Right. The Hunt. Well.” She turned to the kitchen, turning on the beverage-maker for some hot water. Making another drink of tea, then. Lyra had never seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anybody </i>drink as much tea as this woman did.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So, you know this is a Gateway World, right?” Sionann asked patiently, hands busy with the predicted tea-making. She tipped what must’ve been half a bowl of sugar into the tea cup.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “So I’ve heard,” Lyra agreed non-committedly, leaning against the counter, “but I have no idea what that means. The person who mentioned it didn’t exactly elaborate.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann idly tapped her chin in thought.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hmm, alright,” she murmured, probably trying to get her thoughts in order. “Basically, Gateway Worlds are the first line of defence against the Wilds.”</span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Right. More fairy tales that aren’t.</span></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You know how the Rifts can be opened at Full Moon, and connect to the different worlds?” Sionann asked before shaking her head. “What am I saying, of course you know. Thing is, there are some people and creatures out there in the multi-verse that…well, I guess it’s simplest to say they’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">addicted</i> to the forces of the Balance. When Full Moon occurs, they open the Rifts, and go travelling through the multi-verse in search of worlds rich in the forces they’re addicted to.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She dropped some dried leaves in a teapot and promptly filled it with boiling water. A faint smell of mint-leaves drifted from the pot as the water began to rehydrate the dried leaves.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Their very presence in those worlds causes the Balance to distort. On top of that, they will very often go on a killing spree once they arrive in the other worlds, killing every being they encounter. So, to protect the other worlds, and the creatures <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> those worlds, the Keeper set up the Gateway Worlds. Oh, would you like something to drink?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“No thanks,” Lyra rejecting the offer for a drink. “What exactly is the deal with the Keeper anyway? Is it – he, she, whatever – actually real?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, very real, yes,” Sionann confirmed, turning back to Lyra as she left the leaves to steep in the water. “I’ve never met him myself, but I know Lady Alison is quite close to him. The Keeper…nobody really knows where he came from, or even what he really is, but he’s pretty important to the multi-verse. As far as I understand, he is very…close, to the Balance. Everything he is, apparently his very existence, is somehow tied to the Balance. He comes and goes in the different worlds as he pleases, but there is one thing and one thing only he does – protecting the Balance.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She looked into her teapot, judging the strength of the brew before putting the lid back on, the action causing the minty smell of wet leaves to drift towards Lyra, before continuing.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I know he’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>searching for disruptions and Anomalies, and once he finds them, he either deals with them himself, or he leaves it to his agents. But despite his absolutely immense power and ability, even he cannot be everywhere at once, so when he first noticed the problem of the Wilds – the creatures I mentioned, the ones that travel the worlds on Full Moon – he set up the Gateway Worlds, and he left his agents in charge of them.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She rummaged through the drawers in front of her, pulling out her trusty tea strainer and promptly placing it on top of her cup. The freshly-brewed tea from the teapot quickly followed through the strainer, filling Sionann’s cup with the aromatic brew.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “The Gateway Worlds work by forcing any creature that travels the multi-verse to cross into them, and then sealing the Rift behind them so they cannot go back to the world they left. It also prevents <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other </i>creatures from entering or exiting through that Rift, so in effect I suppose the Gateway Worlds control the spread of Wilds. Once a Wild has entered a Gateway World it will be trapped until the next Full Moon, which will give the Keeper’s agents time to deal with them.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She took a tentative sip of her tea, and then a bigger one when she was satisfied with the quality and temperature of the tea.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Deal with them? How?” Lyra asked curiously, a dreadful suspicion forming in her mind. ‘The Hunt’…the name started to make a bit more sense, but it didn’t lead to a very good conclusion.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann glanced up from her tea, and there was a dark shadow in her eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“We hunt them,” she confirmed callously. “We capture them, question them, and let them be judged. If they pass, we do everything in our power to either return them to where they came from, or make life comfortable for them in their new lives. If they don’t pass…well.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She didn’t complete the sentence, so Lyra did it for her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You kill them?” she asked bluntly, a little horrified by the idea.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Yes.” Sionann’s voice was rock-hard, and her eyes glittered with ice. “We kill them.” She placed her cup back on the counter with a loud clank and fixed Lyra with a hard stare. “Do not feel pity or compassion for these creatures, for they deserve neither. They are cruel, vicious, and evil, and they take an absolute delight in the suffering of others.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“That’s horrific,” Lyra immediately retorted, horrified that she was sharing a house with killers, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">murderers</i>. “Just like that, you kill them? No second chances, no option to get help, nothing?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“They are not poor, helpless victims, caught in an addiction they can find help for, Lyra,” Sionann declared firmly. “Given the chance, they would happily destroy every single thing, kill every living being, all in pursuit of their twisted desires. I will repeat: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they do not deserve pity</i>. There is only one cure for them, and we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">give</i> it to them.” She closed her eyes and exhaled, and the hard tension left her body. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That </i>is the Hunt.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra crossed her arms, scowling at Sionann. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“And everybody on this island participate in this fucked up activity?” she interrogated the fairy.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see there is no reasoning with you,” Sionann sighed and picked up her tea again. “You do not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">understand </i>the horror of these creatures. You haven’t experienced their twisted maliciousness. I pray you never will, but this is a Gateway World, so chances are you will.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She lowered her cup and stared silently at her tea, the corners of her eyes pulling with sadness. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I have lost many, many friends to the Wilds,” she admitted softly. “We all have. But we stay here, and we will remain here, because without us, the destruction the Wilds would incur is much, much bigger than anything you can imagine. Innocent worlds, worlds without an inkling of what true violence looks like, worlds like the one you came from, they will fall completely against these creatures, because they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do not know </i>how to fight against them. If by staying here, and killing the Wilds, we can save even one world, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it is cause enough</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Her earnest words caused Lyra to fall silent. The thought of creatures like the ones Sionann had described invading Sunset Valley filled her with dread. If the creatures – the Wilds – were really as vicious and malicious as Sionann claimed…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbbob</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nobody </i>back home would stand a chance against them.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Maybe I just don’t know enough to judge,” she admitted. It was as much apology as Sionann would get.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann picked her tea back up. “Indeed,” she agreed mildly, sipping at her tea and closing her eyes in pleasure. “The Wilds and the Hunt is a complex topic, and it’s not one that can be explained in some simple sentences. It has to be experienced to be understood. Please, do not go looking into it any further, and do not question it. It is the way things are, out of necessity.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra inclined her head just slightly, wordlessly agreeing to Sionann’s request. She still didn’t agree completely, but it wasn’t worth it to get into an argument about it. She really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>know enough.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“So, you’re all ‘agents’ of the Keeper?” she asked instead, trying to change the topic. Sionann smiled at her, clearly appreciating the gesture.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “No, not quite,” she denied, a little sheepish. “Lady Alison is, and I suppose Lord Leneo as well, but the rest of us…we follow <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them. </i>So maybe we are, indirectly.” She tapped her chin again in thought. “The structure is a bit complex. The Keeper converses with Lady Alison, and gives her his orders, and she ensures they get followed. If the orders have something to do with the Hunt, or the Wilds, they belong under Lord Leneo’s jurisdiction, while if the orders have something to do with the Balance, or the multi-verse in general, Lady Alison acts on it. We’re the ones who actively carry out the orders, so I guess we too, are the Keeper’s agents – just not as directly as our leaders.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Right,” Lyra muttered blankly. It was so weird. Two days ago, the Keeper and the Wilds and dragons and all those supernatural kinds of things belonged firmly in the realm of stories. Now it was reality, and she was talking to someone who publicly claimed to be the agent of a surreal being, and nobody would look at her twice for doing so. It was so surreal.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The door to the house opened, causing both Lyra and Sionann to instinctively turn to the newcomer. Lyra didn’t recognise him, but Sionann clearly did, for she bounded up to him and threw her arms around his neck.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Adrian!” she exclaimed happily, her entire face lighting up with delight. “You’re home!” The newly-identified Adrian smiled back at her, his arms encircling her waist.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“I am,” he agreed, his voice warm and just as happy as Sionann’s. Lyra tilted her head, bemusedly studying her new housemate, the only one she hadn’t met with yet. For some reason, she’d thought he’d be a fairy, like Sionann, but he most definitely wasn’t. He looked just as normal as she and Blaise did.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“What took you so long?” Sionann pouted at him, her wings fluttering happily behind her. Adrian smiled at her like a sap, and for what felt like way-too-long, they made lovey-faces at each other. It was nausea-inducingly sweet, and Lyra mentally pulled a face at the scene. She had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>acted like that with Edwin.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Adrian chuckled at Sionann’s question and gently disengaged himself from her arms. Her hands slipped from his shoulders and down his chest, and even Lyra didn’t miss the wince on his face as Sionann’s hands grazed his skin.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann’s attitude did an abrupt one-eighty.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Strip,” she ordered with a no-nonsense voice. Adrian stiffened guiltily, a slight frown appearing on his face.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sionann,” he protested, but the fairy was resolute.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t try to wriggle out of this, Adrian,” she ordered briskly. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Strip</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s just a scratch, Sionann,” Adrian protested feebly. “It’s already been treated. I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fine</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The words didn’t seem to reassure the fairy. If anything, it caused her posture to stiffen even more. Adrian seemed to recognise the warning signs, as he sighed in defeat and took off his shirt.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra gripped the edge of the counter. His entire chest was wrapped in bandages. A mere <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scratch </i>wouldn’t warrant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann’s slender fingers hovered over the bandages, threatening to unveil the carefully covered injury.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Keeper, Adrian,” she breathed, her voice hitching in concern. “What happened?” The raw concern in her voice felt so intimate, so private, that Lyra felt like she was intruding in a moment she wasn’t supposed to witness.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Got careless,” Adrian confessed, his voice dropping to a low murmur that Lyra could only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just </i>make out. “Werewolf gouged me just as I brought it down.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra felt her breath hitch as sudden realisation burst into her mind. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Hunt</i>. He was talking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">killing </i>someone. A shiver of fear ran down her spine.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “It’s been cleaned?” Sionann asked concernedly. “No infection?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It’s a scratch, not a bite,” Adrian interjected easily, “so no infection. Lady Alison checked it over herself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m fine</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann sighed in relief and cupped Adrian’s cheek with her hand.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Don’t scare me like that,” she pleaded emotionally, her voice a soft murmur.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Sorry,” Adrian apologised earnestly, and Lyra was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very </i>tempted to scuffle her feet, or clear her throat, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>to remind them they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not alone</i>. Did they have to be so damn intimate?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It didn’t turn out to be necessary, as Adrian put his shirt back on and looked in her direction, noticing her standing awkwardly by the counter. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the expression was quickly replaced by a welcoming smile.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Hi there!” he greeted her rather enthusiastically. “You must be Lyra, our new housemate.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra inclined her head. “I am,” she agreed neutrally. He seemed nice enough, but then again, Lyra hadn’t had the best experience with the males on this damn island.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Welcome to our house,” he welcomed her earnestly, his voice warm. “You came from the Sunset Valley world, right? What’s it like there?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Boring,” she declared flatly, and there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>in Adrian’s eyes that caused her to change her answer with a sigh, if only slightly. “It’s very quiet, and nothing ever seems to change. People live, love, have kids, grow old, and die at a ripe old age, following the same path their parents, grandparents and great-grandparents did. It’s…peaceful, I suppose.” </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And she was suddenly stuck with an absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">immense </i>pang of homesickness. For all its faults, Sunset Valley was her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>. It was the place she had lived, laughed and loved, and it was the place she had cried, grieved and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hoped</i>. It was the place she had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">been</i> loved, and it was the place she had grown up, and despite all the bad things that had happened, her memories were filled with hours of laughter and fun and camaraderie. Life had seemed so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sucky </i>in Sunset Valley, but now… now she missed it with a tangible pain in her heart.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"> “Sounds like a great place,” Adrian replied, and there was a deep, deep sadness in his eyes and voice, but a very content smile on his face. It was absolutely contradictory, and Lyra didn’t feel even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">close </i>to comfortable enough to ask about it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“It is,” she admitted softly, both to him and herself. “When the sun sets, the town is bathed in a soft pink light, turning the sea purple…”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She ended up talking for a long, long time, telling the couple about life in Sunset Valley. She told them about the sunsets, the scenery, the stars, the way the snow blanketed the valley in the winter, and the way her house had been protected from the weather by the mountains surrounding it. She talked about the exhilaration of windsurfing in summer, the cosiness of campfires in autumn, the excitement of the brisk cold of winter that coloured cheeks and caused the entire world to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sparkle</i>, and about lazy picnics in autumn. It was an absolute relief to talk about it, but at the same time her heart was crying in bittersweet sorrow deep, deep inside her chest. She missed Sunset Valley so much.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Sionann left sometime during the talking, muttering about tending to her garden, but Adrian stayed the entire time, listening attentively to her rambling, that same contented sadness on his face and in his eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It was only when she started to run out of words, having told him everything about life in Sunset Valley short from the stuff that had happened with her family, that he finally took a turn at the conversation himself.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“You and I are more alike than you think,” he told her gently. “I, too, am an Anomaly. I was born in the Monte Vista world, which, like Sunset Valley, is an Energetic world. Would you like to hear about it?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">And hell, there was no way Lyra could refuse. Despite all the claims otherwise, no one else had truly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">understood </i>what it meant to be ripped away from your world without choice, but here was someone who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>. Her heart yearned for his story, to understand how it could be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">possible </i>to move on from that utter homesickness, as Adrian clearly had.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">They talked until late, late in the night, and when they finally retreated to bed, Lyra felt closer to Adrian than she had ever felt to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anybody</i> aside from her family and Edwin back home. She had been in this world only one day, but things were already starting to look up again.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Time had a funny habit of disappearing on you when you didn’t pay attention.</span></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra stared over the yard, idly watching the rain fall on Sionann’s painstakingly cared-for garden. It had rained almost unendingly the whole time she’d been on Howell Island, something not unusual for the autumn season currently reigning over the island, Sionann had assured her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It had already been over six months since she’d arrived in this world.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It had been difficult to adjust, in the beginning. The house was a lot quieter than Lyra had been used to. Back home, there had always been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>noise. The waterfall drumming into the lake beside their house had been a constant din she had long learned to push to the back on her mind. It had been a sign of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>, the same way the fact that there had always been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>music had been, whether it was from the radio, an instrument, or more commonly, a combination of the two.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Now though…now all of that was gone.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Instead, there was the never-ending pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the roof, and the occasional hum as the wind blew Sionann’s singing voice towards the house.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">She took a sip from her coffee, rolling the liquid on her tongue and savouring the taste of the rich Maui bean grind. Sionann grew more than just tea in her garden, and Lyra had to admit, the specially grown coffee beans had spoiled her for any other coffee out there.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>been difficult to adjust, but she had, and while life wasn’t exactly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">great</i>, she wouldn’t say it was horrible either. It just was. If pressed, Lyra would have to admit she had very little to complain about.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The biggest complaint she had, was that she couldn’t leave the house or yard without an escort. ‘For your own safety,’ Sionann and Adrian had claimed.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You have to understand, Lyra,” Adrian had tried to explain, “that this is a Gateway World. Wilds roam this island, and you don’t have the skills or the training to deal with them. If one of them should find you, you would be absolutely defenceless against them. Please, this is for your own safety.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">The words had irked her immensely, but in the end, she hadn’t protested. It had reminded her of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>, where Renard had ignored their dad’s orders to stay inside, and had promptly ended up in a situation none of them had been equipped to deal with. The price paid had been so very high, and she would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate </i>for it to happen again. She’d lost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enough</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A sudden cacophony in the garden drew her out of her morose thoughts. Chickens scattered every which way, clucking loudly and wildly flapping their wings as they ran from their coop as fast as they could. A little red head popped out the door, looking far more satisfied than the little beast should.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Lyra winced, and mentally prepared herself for the shriek that would follow. Sure enough…</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blaise!</i>” Sionann’s voice reverberated. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get your Keeper-damned dragon out of my coop</i>!” The fairy was naturally soft-spoken and gentle, but when something managed to invoke her ire…</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” a voice sounded <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right behind </i>Lyra, startling her. She spun around, nearly flinging her coffee at him, and pressed into the wall, trying to get as far away from Blaise as possible. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>, she hated him. Living and sharing a house with him had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>changed her mind, and she was pretty sure he thought the same about her. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He whistled sharply, the sound tearing through her eardrums with its shrillness, and the satisfied little monster strutted out of the coop and flew to Blaise without a single sign of guilt or regret. Any curiosity Lyra might’ve once held over the little pest was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">long </i>gone. The dragon was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">menace</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And keep him under control!</i>” Sionann ordered from the garden. Blaise merely rolled his eyes and walked away, ignoring Lyra as flatly as he always did.</span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Arrogant ass.</span></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">He didn’t get very far before another dragon burst into the room, appearing out of nothingness. At the sight of the familiar dragon, both Blaise and Adrian froze, their bodies tensing up. The entire atmosphere in the house <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">changed</i>, going from a lazy peacefulness to a tense anticipation.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">“Keeper,” Adrian breathed in fearful concern, staring at the death dragon with wide, fearful eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">A/N: I think I’ve managed to confuse myself with all this lore. -_- I’ve written and rewritten it in so many different versions that I don’t even know what I’ve explained and what I haven’t explained yet. Sorry for the absolute overload of information in the last couple of chapters, but this should be the last of it, and now hopefully the story will make more sense!</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">I did consider dressing Lyra in some different colours (because it’s just way too convenient that she’ll find her fav colours in the closet), but she just wouldn’t be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lyra </i>without her hot pink, so I gave in and gave her pink.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;">Also, dragons. Because, dragons! They’re way too fun to play around with. They’re pretty boring and limited in-game, but their story-telling possibilities are just too delicious to ignore. (Plus they still animate when you place them on OMSP, and that is just too adorable to bypass XD.) I’ll admit, I’m basing them a little off <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_McCaffrey" target="_blank">Anne McCaffrey’s</a> <a href="http://pern.wikia.com/wiki/Fire_Lizard" target="_blank">fire lizards</a> (pretty much just the teleportation and semi-telepathic abilities), but only because I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want one so bad</i>, and the dragons from Dragon Valley are the right size. So, you’ll get dragons this generation. :)</span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-86075185135565224382017-07-30T07:32:00.000+02:002017-08-08T02:33:01.078+02:00Chapter 3.05 - Anomaly<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-indent: 8.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>*Warning: This blog contains bad language and a little bit of nudity (nothing explicit). If any of this upsets you, don't continue.* </b><span style="font-size: small;">I have issues with the normal adult content warning, so I'm trying to sort that out. :)</span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB">Alison had poured herself another cup of tea, and the silver spoon clinked against the fine porcelain as she stirred the aromatic fluid, dissolving the little sugar crystals hidden within. Lyra wrapped her hands around her own mug of rich strong coffee, grateful for the thoughtful gesture. She’d definitely need the caffeine if she was to listen to old bedtime stories and accept them as truth.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Before we begin,” Alison started mildly, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid inside her cup, “there are a couple of things that need to be established. The main thing: everything I am about to tell you, is the absolute truth. No matter how unlikely something sounds, or how unreal it seems, or how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">unlike </i>it is from the stories you’ve heard, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything is true. </i>You will get no twisting of facts from me, and I will not sugar-coat anything either. Everything you hear from me, is the absolute, unaltered truth. You are, of course, free to ask questions, but I would prefer it if you allow me to finish, before you do so.” She picked her cup up, and smiled invitingly at Lyra. “Now then, let’s start.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The first thing you need to be aware of – and you probably already are – is that there are an infinite number of different worlds out there. What you might not know, is that all of these different worlds, every single one of them, are the same physical world.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra blinked in confusion. That didn’t make sense at all. Alison seemed to realise this, as she held up a hand to halt Lyra’s question before she even had the chance to ask it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Rather than call them different worlds, it is more accurate to call them different <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">versions</i> of the same world, or in more common terms, different dimensions. They all started out exactly the same, but due to different histories they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">evolved </i>differently, thus presenting us with the worlds we have today. This collection of different worlds, different <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dimensions</i>, I will refer to as the ‘multi-verse’.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The next thing you need to be aware of is quite complex, and for that I will need to go back a step further. Tell me: have you ever heard the terms ‘Magic’ and ‘Energy’ before?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra frowned at the question, idly sipping at her coffee.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Magic and energy?” she repeated hesitantly. “I’ve heard of both, obviously. But…I get the feeling you’re not referring to the conventional definition of the words.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison smiled into her cup, as if the very idea that she was referring to a definition was greatly amusing her.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Of course not,” she agreed. “I am referring to the forces. The Magical and Energetic forces which determines what kind of life a world sustains; the forces which makes out the very essence of the Balance.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Mutely, Lyra shook her head. In all of the stories she had heard, there had never been any mention of forces. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Very well,” Alison replied. “I will explain. In the multi-verse, there are two different forces – Magic, and Energy. As I mentioned, these forces determine what kind of life a certain world sustains. The world you came from, a world we refer to as the Sunset Valley world, is an Energetic world. That means that only the Energy force is present in significant amounts. All life in the Sunset Valley world are of the non-magical kind – nothing and nobody is capable of the supernatural, of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">magic</i>. This is true for all Energetic worlds. On the upside, Energetic people have better control over their minds. They are capable of more complex thought, so those worlds are scientifically and technologically much, much more advanced.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Hold up,” Lyra interrupted Alison’s explanation. “That can’t be true. My mom can touch ghosts, and my Aunt Mia developed a potion that can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">turn</i> you into one for three hours. How is that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>supernatural?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And that, child,” Alison replied with mournful eyes, “is where everything went wrong.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The reply was not something Lyra had expected. “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“If you’ll let me continue…” Alison reprimanded lightly, slightly tilting her teacup to the side. Lyra waved the woman ahead, rebuked by the mild reprimand.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“What I just explained was the Energy force. The other force is, of course, Magic. It works on a similar principle: on a Magical world – that is, a world that’s mostly surrounded by the Magic force – all life are of the magical kind. Everyone and everything is capable of the supernatural or magic in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>manner. It is also on Magical worlds where you will find creatures such as unicorns, or dragons, like the ones our dragoneers command.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is absolutely vital you understand that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">these forces cannot mix</i>. Life in the multi-verse is very fragile, and the creatures that live here cannot cope with an incompatible force. If they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are </i>exposed to the wrong force for a prolonged period of time, they will fall into a downward spiral, losing their emotions and eventually, their minds, making them mere shades of existence, incapable of forming thought. This process is known as ‘Falling into Damnation’.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra frowned. Again, that was different from the stories she had grown up with.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s similar to the stories I know,” she admitted, “but I thought Damnation is something that only affects <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ghosts</i>. When they linger too long, they lose themselves, and they become Damned.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison’s lips tugged into an easy smile. “That is true,” she agreed, “but it is not the whole truth. Ghosts – who at the very moment of their deaths, become magical – cannot cope with Energy, so if they linger on an Energetic world, they will start to Fall. On the other hand, if a ghost lingers on a Magical world, they will not Fall. They will be compatible with that world’s force, so they will be free to linger as long as they wish. Damnation most definitely is not something that is limited to ghosts. The proof of that, my dear child, lies in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the hell do you mean by that?” Lyra asked defensively, a massive scowl on her face. It didn’t make sense. They were talking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ghosts</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">different worlds, </i>so how exactly did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>suddenly fall into the picture?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Peace, child,” Alison deflected easily. “All will be explained. So, do you understand the link between Energy, Magic, and Damnation?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">At Lyra’s terse nod, she continued. “This link, this ratio, this delicate balance of forces surrounding a world and its creatures, is known as the Balance. Nothing more, nothing less. But since every single life in the multi-verse depends on these forces, you can understand why it is so vital that the ratio – the Balance – does not get disrupted. Are you still with me?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">At that, Lyra nodded slowly. “I think so, yes,” she agreed hesitantly, still trying to wrap her mind around the concepts.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good,” Alison praised, an enigmatic smile on her face, “because this is where it becomes complicated. When the Balance gets distorted, things go <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong</i>. The Balance is auto-corrective, which means that if everything is as it should be, every world will deal with small changes to the Balance on its own, and no intervention is required to protect a world’s life.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But sometimes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>happens in a world that causes its Balance to get out of sync. Over time, the distortion will increase, and eventually the Balance will be completely disrupted, causing the creatures of that world to start the Fall. To make it even worse, in worlds where the Balance is in serious danger, there are people or creatures who are born to a world <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they do not belong to</i>. Magical creatures, born to an Energetic world, or Energetic creatures born to a Magical world. It goes against the laws of nature, and it is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>supposed to happen. It is one of the biggest signs that intervention is required in a world. These creatures, we refer to, as Anomalies.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Silence fell around them as Alison gave Lyra a chance to process her words. She felt numb, a little overwhelmed by the knowledge she had learned. The same words that had echoed through her mind the previous night reverberated now, repeating over and over.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Anomaly. Not Right. Balance cannot be kept. </span></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Leneo had called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>an Anomaly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A Magical creature born to an Energetic world.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra shook her head, desperately trying to deny it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“That can’t be right,” she denied vehemently. “No. No way. Why would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>be an Anomaly? What makes me so different from all the other people in my world? If someone was to be an Anomaly, wouldn’t that be my mother? She’s the one who’s always going on about magic.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your mother is Magic-touched, yes,” Alison agreed, “but in essence she remains purely Energetic. The amount of Magic that has touched her is far too minute to affect the essence of her being. You, on the other hand, are the opposite. You have been born to Magic, with only a minute amount of Energy affecting you.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“That’s bullshit,” Lyra disagreed angrily. “How the hell would it be possible for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me </i>to be ‘born to Magic’? I wasn’t even born on Full Moon.” </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“No, you weren’t,” Alison agreed, “but you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are </i>the result of a combination of factors. One,” she raised a finger, “your mother is Magic-touched. It means that from the very beginning, you were never going to be born completely Energetic. The same, of course, applies to your siblings.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The words caused a chill to run down Lyra’s back, and she felt herself blanch. She had never even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">considered </i>the fact that Arienne or Renard might’ve been affected as well.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Are you saying my siblings are Anomalies too?” she asked softly, her voice filled with dread. To her utmost relief, Alison shook her head.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“No, they’re not,” she confirmed. “They are Energetic – barely – but Energetic nevertheless. But your idea was right: they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could’ve </i>been Anomalies. The second factor,” she continued, raising a second finger, “lies in that very potion you mentioned earlier, the one your Aunt Mia created, and the fact that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it was used on your father</i>. That potion, dear child, was the very reason the Balance in Sunset Valley started to deteriorate.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra’s mouth was completely dry, and she tried her best to swallow the lump in her throat. Her coffee sat forgotten, cold from being ignored for so long.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“How?” she whispered, forcing the words around the lump in her throat. How could something so innocent as a simple <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">potion </i>have an effect that was so big?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison sighed, the slight smile still on her face as she fiddled around with the fresh pot of tea Sionann, who had so far simply been listening patiently, placed on the table.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The core concept of the potion is flawed,” Alison admitted, daintily holding the lid of the teapot close as she poured herself another cup. “It doesn’t really turn the user into a ghost for a short time. It simply mimics the effect, by enveloping the user in a field of Magic. It tricks the brain, making it believe that it can recognise Magic, which it cannot do. The maintain the ‘trick’, Magic is needed, so the potion causes Magic to be constantly drawn to the user. This causes the Balance to distort, as it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cannot get rid </i>of the excess Magic. The potion causes that Magic to be trapped around the user.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“So why would the fact that it was used on your father, have an influence on you being an Anomaly?” Alison asked. “Do you think you can answer this, considering what I’ve told you so far?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra frowned, deep in thought, idly playing with her mug of cold coffee.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I suppose…if my mom is ‘Magic-touched’, and the potion caused Magic to be drawn to my dad, that would mean…” Her eyes widened as things started to fall into place, especially as she considered what Alison had said about her siblings, “…that we, as their children, would be affected by the Magic as well? Is that right?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A satisfied smile played on Alison’s lips. “Yes. Exactly. The difference being, that while your mother got touched by the Magic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at </i>birth, you and your siblings were touched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before </i>birth. ‘Magical creatures born to an Energetic world’. Now the third factor,” Alison continued, raising a third finger, “and the thing that distinguishes you from your siblings, was the fact that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>were born at home, and your siblings not. At the time of their births, they had not been exposed to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any </i>additional Magic, while you, being born in a house build <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right next </i>to the Rift, was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bathed </i>in it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You, </i>were born Magical.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra stared mutely at Alison with wide eyes, completely overwhelmed by the things she had learned. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“The Rift?” she asked, a bit confused. “The one Charlotte apparently opened last night? That thing that brought us here? Why would that have an influence? Isn’t the Rift <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">closed </i>normally?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison inclined her head. “Indeed,” she agreed. “But Charlotte has been opening that Rift for many, many Full Moons. Consider that with the fact that for a very long time, the house you lived in was inhabited by Magical creatures – ghosts – and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then, </i>by your family. Your family, which we have already established have a unique link with Magic. Magic has been drawn to that house for many, many years, and when your family moved in, it couldn’t escape the effects of the potion. It continued to build up and linger around the house. Have you never wondered by people tended to avoid your house?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra shook her head. She hadn’t. She’d only been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">glad </i>that people avoided their house, especially after her dad had died.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug in front of her, freshly replenished by Sionann. The things Alison had said…she desperately wanted to ignore it, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">deny </i>it, but deep within herself, she knew she couldn’t. Everything Alison had told her, was the truth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Anomaly. </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">It felt utterly unreal. She finally understood though, why she had never felt like she belonged in Sunset Valley, and that no matter how far and how long she looked, she would never have found anywhere she felt at home. It was daunting, to think that if she hadn’t followed Charlotte last night, she would never have found out, and she would have been doomed to live a drifting life, never belonging <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anywhere</i>. What a horrible thought.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So what,” she asked hesitantly, “will this mean for me? I get that I can’t go home, that I will never belong there, but…” She looked down, unable to form her thoughts into words. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob. </i>She was never going to see her family again. She was never going to see the bonds in her family <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">repaired</i>, and she was never going to see Renard be a dad, and…and…</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A soft touch on her hands drew her out of her thoughts, and she stared at Alison with tears in her eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know this is a lot to take in,” Alison remarked softly and gently, “but you are not alone. There <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have </i>been others in the same situation as you, and all of them have found the place they belonged. The future probably feels very bleak to you right now, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that will change</i>. In five years, you’ll get the chance to move to a different world, a Magical one. Until then, you are welcome here, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised by the amount of support you’ll find here.” She smiled, her eyes warm, but Lyra wasn’t exactly warmed by her sentiments.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“That doesn’t help me much,” she pointed out thickly, trying her best not to cry. She had lost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>. Her family, her home, her money, her photos, her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">camera, every single thing </i>she had ever possessed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everything</i>. She had no way to get home, and she’d have to find a new way to get money to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">survive</i>, as she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quite </i>aware that her photography wasn’t going to cut it. The only reason she had been able to make do with it previously was because she had had the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">massive </i>inheritance her dad had left her when he died. Now she was stuck in a strange land where there were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dragons </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fairies </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fucking magic</i>. How, exactly, was she supposed to be comforted by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You basically just told me that I have lost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>,” she continued bitterly. “I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing</i>. Do you really think I care about something as vague as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">support </i>at this stage? The only people I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever </i>cared for are as good as dead to me, and I to them. I care about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their </i>support, but hey, what do you know? That’s lost to me now.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She jerked her gaze away, breaking eye-contact and trying her best to blink away the hot tears pooling in her eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Perhaps,” Alison agreed not-unkindly, “but nevertheless, life will go on. You can either try to make the best of your circumstances, or sit in a corner and sulk about things you cannot change. We will provide you with everything to make the transition as smooth as possible, but in the end, the choice is yours, child.” She stood up from the table, her every movement graceful. “However, for now, I must bid you farewell. Sionann will take it from here,” she excused herself, leaving Lyra to sit awkwardly with the fairy who had so far not exchanged a single word. She was very tempted to just stand up and leave, but she had nowhere to go. She was all alone; a stranger in a strange land.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“As Lady Alison has mentioned, I am Sionann,” the fairy reintroduced herself, pulling Lyra away from her brooding. She was very soft-spoken, her voice as pure and sweet as an angel’s. Lyra almost pulled a face at the sound. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob, </i>it was annoying. Soft, gentle, dainty, pretty…nobody should be so perfect. She would be the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfect </i>trophy wife, Lyra was sure. She probably had a husband who was rich and successful and handsome and all those bunch of lovely clichés. It made Lyra sick to just think about it. It didn’t help much that her mind traitorously provided her with an image of Edwin and Sionann standing lovingly by each other, staring adoringly in the other’s eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Here </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">was the wife Edwin should’ve had.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Completely oblivious to her thoughts, the perfect fairy continued talking.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here on Howell Island, all of us serve a specific purpose,” she explained, drawing Lyra out of her unkind thoughts. “We have a duty to protect the multi-verse and the rest of this world from those who would harm it. We have a role to play not only to this world, but also to our community. I provide our community with fresh fruits and vegetables, and otherwise I serve as a Healer.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Right,” Lyra agreed flatly, already bored by the conversation. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so </i>over it. She wanted a shower. She wanted clean clothes. She wanted to get rid of the grime she could still feel on her hands and knees from where that arrogant ass had pushed her into the ground the previous night. She wanted to go home. She wanted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clean teeth, </i>but guess what? She couldn’t get any of it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She didn’t even have a goddamn </i>toothbrush<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">!</i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She was so, completely, and utterly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over </i>it. But Sionann simply blabbered on, either oblivious to Lyra’s disinterest or simply just not caring. Whatever it was, Lyra just hoped she would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get to the point</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Due to the very nature of this island, we have a lot of people coming and going,” Sionann continued. “Those of us who prefer to serve a greater good stay longer, and we try our best to provide those who are stranded with a safe haven. To that end, I would like to offer you a place in my home.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I…what?” Lyra blinked at Sionann, completely blindsided by the offer. “Seriously, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i>? You want to offer me a place in your home? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why</i>?” She had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>expected that. To be honest, she didn’t know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what </i>she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. She suddenly felt horrible. Here she was, thinking unfavourable thoughts about the woman who had just offered her a place to stay. How low could she get?</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Well, you can’t very well stay here in the base, can you?” Sionann pointed out pragmatically. “The facilities are very limited, and I’m sure you’ll be far more comfortable in a normal house. You’re not here entirely by choice, and we have room in our house, so the least I could do is offer you that room. If not me, someone else would’ve offered you a place in their home. It is simply the way we do things here.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra ducked her head, trying to hide the tears that formed in her eyes from Sionann, overcome by the sudden gratitude that filled her up. It might not be home, but at least now, she had somewhere to go. Now, she could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">move on with her life</i>. It was entirely unexpected, and definitely not the way she wanted things to go, but she couldn’t change the past. The only thing she could do was to make the best of it. It was like Alison had said. Sitting in a corner and sulking wasn’t going to change things.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“In that case, I will gladly accept,” she gratefully accepted Sionann’s offer.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The house Sionann took her to was a charming wood-and-stone cottage, nothing like what she’d been expecting. The grey light from the stormy sky above slightly dulled the golden stone, but the bright colours from inside were warm and very welcoming.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Welcome to our humble abode,” Sionann welcomed her, twisting the keys in the lock and opening the door for Lyra, graciously inviting her inside. “It’s not much, but it’s home. I hope you’ll enjoy it here.” She flicked on the switch, flooding the room with a bright light that drowned out the dismal light from outside.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“We only have a couple of house rules,” Sionann continued with a wave of her hand, placing her keys on the end table and kicking off her shoes. “Really, it’s just basic stuff. Keep everything tidy, clean up after yourself, respect each other’s space and privacy, you know, basic stuff. Keep your bathroom clean. We take turns to cook and do dishes, laundry is done on Fridays, if something breaks let A or B know…uhm. If we run out of something, let <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me </i>know...and…yep. I think that’s it. Any questions?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“A or B?” Lyra repeated sceptically. That could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>be their real names.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh!” Sionann exclaimed, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry. Adrian or Blaise. My boyfriend and his best friend respectively, you should meet them later today. We <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">used </i>to have another girl – Agneis – but she moved back to the mainland a coupl’a months ago, which is why<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>we have room available. The rooms aren’t terribly big, I’m afraid, but we spend most of our time out here anyway, so I hope it won’t be a problem.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Of course not,” Lyra agreed mildly. It didn’t really matter how big the rooms were. It wasn’t like she was going to turn around and go ‘Fuck this. This room is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way </i>too small.’ She needed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">somewhere </i>to stay. As long as she didn’t have to share a room, she didn’t really care about the size. It wasn’t like she had a ton of stuff to put somewhere. No, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>was still in Sunset Valley.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Good!” Sionann exclaimed happily. “So, directions. This is the communal space…”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“…kitchen is over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there</i>…”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“…my garden is out of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>door – which, by the way, I’ll expect you to help me with.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“At the end of the corridor is my and Adrian’s room, Blaise’s is the one at the start and yours is…” She led Lyra through the house, pointing out the different rooms before pausing in front of a door.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“…this one.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She opened the door, revealing an admittedly rather small room. It was smaller than the room Lyra had had back home, but it held all of the essentials, so it would have to do.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Sionann turned around and pointed at the door right opposite Lyra’s new room.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“This is your bathroom,” she explained. “You have to share it with Blaise, unfortunately, so you’ll have to discuss details with him. Other than that there’s not much to show.” She gave Lyra a satisfied little smile before clicking her fingers.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Oh, right,” she suddenly remembered. “Clothes. Agneis left some behind, so you’re welcome to have them, if they fit you. Otherwise we’ll have to go back to the base so you can search through their collection. We <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t </i>have a lot of access to shops around here, so someone from the island goes back to the mainland every now and again to get the necessities and just drops them at the base. We share pretty much everything here on the island.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay,” Lyra nodded, showing she understood. Great. Not only was she stranded in a strange world where they didn’t even have proper shops, she was going to have to wear some stranger’s outcast clothes. Just great. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Sionann clapped her hands together.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Well, that’s all good!” she exclaimed happily. “I’ll leave you to get settled in then. You’re probably dying for a hot shower, so feel free to have one! You’ll find fresh towels and toiletries on the dresser in your room.” She gave Lyra another bright smile before she excused herself and disappeared off into the room at the end of the corridor.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Well, there was no time like the present. With a despondent sigh, Lyra stepped into her new room, studying the neutral colours with distaste. She silently vowed to get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>pink for the room as soon as possible. Bedcovers, preferably, but at this stage she’d settle for anything pink. There was just far too little colour.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The clothes in the closet weren’t exactly her style, but they fit, and they were clean, so they’d have to do. She idly let her thoughts wander as she picked up the clothes, the towel and the toiletries, getting ready for that highly-anticipated shower.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So, she was going to share a house with three other people, none of whom she knew very well at all. Sionann and Adrian were the couple, while she and Blaise would be the hang-ons, all living happily in the same house. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>. It sounded like some sort of cheesy TV-drama, the kind that had a gazillion episodes and faithfully ran every night for the last forever.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">…Come to think of it, why did the name Blaise sound so familiar? She idly allowed her eyes to drift upwards as she tried to remember, a part of her brain very appreciative of the view presented to her. Those were some very toned, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> good<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">-</i>looking legs.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>she heard the name? It was somewhere in this new world, she was sure. The name had been mentioned in an off-hand manner. Oh look, a six-pack. Edwin didn’t have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">those</i>. Very nice. And those pectorals…hmm.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Wait a minute. Blaise. Wasn’t that the name of…</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Are you going to stare at my chest the whole day, or are you gonna get out of my way?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">…that ass who had knocked her out?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob!</i>” Lyra shrieked, dropping her stuff and abruptly averting her eyes. “Put some clothes on, you<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>ass! Nobody wants to see you strutting around half-naked!”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">He crossed his arms and glared at her, one eyebrow raised marginally.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You’re the one who were staring,” he pointed out with a dangerous growl. “And you’re still standing in my way.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She spluttered indignantly, staring at him in disbelief. No. This could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>be happening. He was just here <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">visiting</i>. Who cared if he had the same name as someone in the house?! There was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no way </i>he could be her new housemate!</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“What are you even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doing</i> here?” she demanded, stepping away from him and trying to create as much distance between them as the narrow corridor would provide.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shot her an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">believe </i>she’d ask the question.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">live </i>here,” he confirmed, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck, </i>there went all her hopes. He brushed past her close enough that she could smell the shampoo he’d used in his shower, and feel the heat radiating from his body. She hurriedly stepped even further away, almost stumbling over the clothes she had dropped on the floor.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just stay out of my way, and we’ll be good,” he warned her with that same dangerous growl before entering his room and closing the door a bit harder than strictly necessary, leaving Lyra to stand awkwardly in the middle of the corridor. She stumbled back, her back hitting the wall, before she slowly slid down to the floor, burying her face in her arms.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of fucking course</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">. Her luck just never ended, did it? Of all the places she could’ve ended up on, she just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>to end up in the same house as the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i> freak’n person she never wanted to see again. Why? Why was this her life?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Plumbob. </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The next five years were going to suck <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">royally</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A/N: I know, I know, very cliché, but I couldn’t resist. XD</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The sets I’ve been using so far is part of the world, except Sionann’s house. I built that one myself. I’m a little in love with it, but I will actively try to avoid shooting in that corridor again. It was horrible. Way too many walls with way too little space. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So, this chapter should have explained the main concepts that are important to understand Lyra’s story, but there are many other parts of the lore I have touched on before that I haven’t explained here. These parts are explained on the Lore Page. I will occasionally refer to these parts, so feel free to read through them. If, after that, anybody still wants a better explanation, drop me a comment and I will try to work it into the story. :)</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Also: Plot-holes? What are those? XD Jokes aside, I’ve tried my best to cover all plot-holes, but I’m only human, so I’m bound to have missed a couple. If you notice any, just ignore them (or point them out, it’s entirely your call). ;) </span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-7065976521478624162017-07-23T03:45:00.000+02:002017-07-24T02:32:27.889+02:00Chapter 3.04 - Old Wives' Tales<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra stared at her surroundings, her eyes bewildered. The reeds rustled in the wind and in front of her, the Full Moon glistened ominously in the crystal water stretched out before her. The absence of the usual night sounds was almost obtrusive, but Lyra was only vaguely aware of it. All she knew for certain was that the lake in front of her was not the one she had been standing at before that flash of light had thrown her senses haywire.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"What," she asked bewilderedly, "just happened?"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The night remained silent, and the wind blowing through the reeds and treetops did nothing to answer her, so she turned to the presence she had heard beside her. A presence who turned out to be Charlotte, her oh so favourite being in the world.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Hello? Charlotte? An answer please?"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The ghost looked up at Lyra's request. She too had large eyes as she regarded their surroundings.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"This is bad," she muttered anxiously. "This is very, very bad. We have to get back."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"No shit," Lyra agreed enthusiastically, "but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">where are we</i>? And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how</i> did we get here?"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The ghost looked at Lyra with a slight scowl. The sight caused Lyra to start slightly. She had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i> seen the ghost scowl before.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"It's <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Full Moon</i>," the ghost replied, her voice slightly irritated. "You know what it means, you've heard the stories before."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra crossed her arms and scowled at Charlotte, not amused <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all</i> by the answer.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"What, you mean the stories about 'The Wilds'? You know just as well as I do they don't exist," she scoffed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Oh, they're real alright," Charlotte disagreed and turned around, looking anxiously around them and searching for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who-knew-what</i>. "And right now you don't have to worry about the Wilds because here, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we are</i> the Wilds."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The words sent ominous shivers down Lyra's spine.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"What the hell do you mean with that?" she asked again, but the ghost ignored her, her eyes still searching the reeds surrounding them. "Charlotte? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Answer me, dammit!</i>"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Lyra, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please</i>," the ghost muttered impatiently, another first for Lyra, “can you just keep quiet for a bit? I'm trying to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">listen</i>."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra abruptly closed her mouth, swallowing her next question and strained her ears, trying to figure out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i> Charlotte was trying to listen to. An uneasy feeling ran down her spine when she noticed the absolute <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">silence</i> around them.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">That wasn't right. They were in the middle of the wilderness, at night. There should've been the sound of wildlife around them.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A shrill cry sounded above them and the next moment something hit Lyra's back, causing her to tumble forward and onto the ground once again. It didn’t stop there, as her arms were suddenly pinned mercilessly to the ground. Charlotte cried her name out in concern, but a flying creature of some kind dove at her and she shielded her face. To Lyra's immense surprise, the creature actually managed to topple the ghost to the ground and keep her pinned there, providing Lyra with a clear view of the creature for the first time.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">...It was a dragon. An honest-to-god, goddamn <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dragon</i>. It was quite a lot smaller than the ones in legends, but there was no mistaking the features.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizkq9iKypMRSGHNIyAe-qjXuXAeFp-ztr9G36fwrRM0vHyHu4f5A3DaX0Uj90wVbbiwJODvsxMreGLuCWDJMvYGpmy7h6RvB2RqWK74la7tWjJy3VjrlhJOz6wF-8e5_VME6IFNbNK_lc/s1600/304.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizkq9iKypMRSGHNIyAe-qjXuXAeFp-ztr9G36fwrRM0vHyHu4f5A3DaX0Uj90wVbbiwJODvsxMreGLuCWDJMvYGpmy7h6RvB2RqWK74la7tWjJy3VjrlhJOz6wF-8e5_VME6IFNbNK_lc/s640/304.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"You'd do well to listen to your ghostly friend's advice," a male voice announced gruffly from on top of her, providing her with the first clue of her attacker’s identity. "Sound travels far in the darkness. Now, who are you, and why are you here?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra swallowed heavily, having no idea how to answer the gruff stranger on her back, but Charlotte relieved her of that responsibility.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"We're travellers," the ghost proclaimed. "Please, we just want to go home."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man made a disgusted sound at her revelation and his hold on Lyra's arms tightened.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Wilds, you mean," he snarled, his tone heavy with disgust. "I should just kill you here and now. You guys just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i> learn, do you."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvs0PU4QjNZcwOhvuJkoDah1dpCQplsmbqC_6SAIVtT7spmURQBF1d51uGTEuhgCzOS6GgzdMS4iRIpMYF2uvyr6sxIP7Wcr03FuKL38eB6DMUYmD2hqsHO-YPFmg5ZrEJqtrPVpi_6h8/s1600/304.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvs0PU4QjNZcwOhvuJkoDah1dpCQplsmbqC_6SAIVtT7spmURQBF1d51uGTEuhgCzOS6GgzdMS4iRIpMYF2uvyr6sxIP7Wcr03FuKL38eB6DMUYmD2hqsHO-YPFmg5ZrEJqtrPVpi_6h8/s640/304.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Please," Charlotte pleaded, "I swear, we mean you no harm. We arrived here simply by accident. We just want to get home."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man snorted, unamused.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Do you take me for an imbecile, ghost?" he asked shortly. "Rifts don't open by accident. One of you opened that Rift, and somehow I doubt it's the human."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Fine," Charlotte submitted. "Alright. Yes, I opened the Gate, but I swear, I do not mean to harm this World. I simply wanted to find my brother. My companion was brought along by accident. My name is Charlotte Ainsworth, and my companion is Lyra Marquel. I swear to you, it is the truth. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We mean you no harm</i>."</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man’s hold tightened even more, causing Lyra to clench her teeth together. His hold was physically causing her pain.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg32LUyx24gTKIFjYbNGgr-ziMei47OFM9ft0meX384_NWVgyPG_Rv4Lv0Ma229H8Nf1P2V4Z7OuyMsrgcEE895n4DJATB7CUd7fnEu7riojh_tU5wJzdwsNdu9maYylIMlKZ1hS94L6xk/s1600/304.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg32LUyx24gTKIFjYbNGgr-ziMei47OFM9ft0meX384_NWVgyPG_Rv4Lv0Ma229H8Nf1P2V4Z7OuyMsrgcEE895n4DJATB7CUd7fnEu7riojh_tU5wJzdwsNdu9maYylIMlKZ1hS94L6xk/s640/304.08.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A likely story,” the man disagreed. “Give me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one </i>reason why I should believe you.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra tried to move her wrists, trying to lessen the pain of his hold, but the man didn’t even spare her glance, tightening his hold instead. She finally snapped from the pain and indignity of being ignored for so long.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Listen, you ass,” she interrupted him angrily, ignoring Charlotte’s warning cry for her to stop,” what the hell do you want from us? You’re clearly not willing to listen to a word we say, so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what do you want?!</i> Seriously, just let us go already!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Like hell I will,” the man instantly retorted. “You’re dangerous. I’m not going to let another goddamn Wild ruin things even further.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra twitched beneath him, trying to turn around and get a clear view of her captor, but his hold on her back was too tight.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCEtRJSxmcZwqoNCjqqfexTW6p2zTham82wCrSn73iUNHxuA1ARYDE7edaeb7v_jeX_mOutSn0Nx3WppqkLc8xzI2CoXQixijL8bVnuLxzQ1vedz-9umKdfd7pGDPrt_8lmOq7vBi8Uo/s1600/304.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCEtRJSxmcZwqoNCjqqfexTW6p2zTham82wCrSn73iUNHxuA1ARYDE7edaeb7v_jeX_mOutSn0Nx3WppqkLc8xzI2CoXQixijL8bVnuLxzQ1vedz-9umKdfd7pGDPrt_8lmOq7vBi8Uo/s640/304.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what</i>,” she replied waspishly, “do you expect – “</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">He clamped a hand across her mouth, instantly silencing her.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Listen,” he hissed quietly. “I don’t care who you are or where you come from, or what your intentions are, but I will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> let you endanger us. So <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shut up.</i> As far as I’m concerned, all you damned Wilds should just go to hell.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Bright light gathered around his hands, crackling ominously with power. Lyra flinched back from the sight, trying her best to renew her struggles, but his hold was unrelenting. Lyra clenched her eyes shut, knowing that whatever he was going to do to her was going to hurt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hellishly</i>, but a different, unknown voice barked out a sharp command and at the last moment, the light around her captor’s hand <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">changed </i>and instead of the harsh slam she had been expecting, her captor merely laid his hand against her forehead.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzkpH3SD35LEUE-9Ep2GTWnntXcLnVdGl2eNd9XatLDl3vTmlIQH7kGikMPDM9LyXgP7MrbyX5AChkA7r9RoQm701rQqis3PRtkSfKOSTe3B6qnhJNh9DEUt9sPhDgWW_RJvdfr_PZ2w/s1600/304.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzkpH3SD35LEUE-9Ep2GTWnntXcLnVdGl2eNd9XatLDl3vTmlIQH7kGikMPDM9LyXgP7MrbyX5AChkA7r9RoQm701rQqis3PRtkSfKOSTe3B6qnhJNh9DEUt9sPhDgWW_RJvdfr_PZ2w/s640/304.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">However, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The moment he laid his hand on her head, a massive headache exploded into her head. Her sight dimmed, and through the haze that suddenly seemed to engulf her, she vaguely heard an unfamiliar voice speak.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Are you out of your mind?!”</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Her eyes fluttered close and the world grew dark.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">When she woke up again, the sight that met her was pretty dismal, and the ass that had knocked her out was nowhere to be seen.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdrRUneMUhzfZm6qaypdxPtrgMQhdH8L5boMOyLyeBFoWdUcY7VrLqIa3QcWU2bZWn58a7uitAi-ya5SuPBqQXNE7Ri9FH5HoIa8RyfQH2z5Ehk4mwkonN_ej_vF3tyv17uYpMGMnL4s/s1600/304.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdrRUneMUhzfZm6qaypdxPtrgMQhdH8L5boMOyLyeBFoWdUcY7VrLqIa3QcWU2bZWn58a7uitAi-ya5SuPBqQXNE7Ri9FH5HoIa8RyfQH2z5Ehk4mwkonN_ej_vF3tyv17uYpMGMnL4s/s640/304.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Great,” she grumbled irritably, “just what I need.” Her words rang dully through the cell with no reply. On the other side of the room, Charlotte was curled up against the wall with a thunderous expression on her face.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“How the hell did they manage to capture <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>?” Lyra asked irritably. While she was glad not be alone, she did not want to be stuck here with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Charlotte</i>. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The question made the black look on the ghost’s face intensify. It was quite a novel sight, Lyra mused. Charlotte didn’t do the angry look. She just didn’t. No matter what the situation, the ghost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always, always </i>had that tranquil, I-know-everything look about her. So yeah, the scowl was quite a novel look on her.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6mceOIrur7nYH0o51MmMVOeDaSboVZyac_OK6q3Dhldkhhok_Qu9ViFq9VAQPcJCuguVJSZ29OBIOX1s7zgO8Sn_aVBVaN9HSqOjMduMZIQwPIpnxE9oxzZ8vrklp6BH2RawqhsxGCk/s1600/304.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6mceOIrur7nYH0o51MmMVOeDaSboVZyac_OK6q3Dhldkhhok_Qu9ViFq9VAQPcJCuguVJSZ29OBIOX1s7zgO8Sn_aVBVaN9HSqOjMduMZIQwPIpnxE9oxzZ8vrklp6BH2RawqhsxGCk/s640/304.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">death</i> dragon,” the ghost grumbled her reply. “What exactly am I supposed to do against a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">death dragon</i>? I don’t want to go to the World of the Dead yet.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The answer was intriguing enough that Lyra managed to put her dislike of the ghost to the side.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“A death dragon? So that thing really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> a dragon?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Charlotte gave a soft sigh before she nodded reluctantly.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“They’re native to magical worlds,” she imparted. “Which means we’ve landed on one. As a ghost, a magical being, that death dragon holds immense power over me.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“And don’t you forget that,” the voice of their captor came from the direction of the bars separating them from the rest of the world.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGh_Od-S0e8aWn1oNORBEy1T97ilVC9rX_eBkGObU9nUpzZ7n9ONmg_ReHsTEAf4-wz5aCx6X6LFp6DViqiV54s7hERWNI7oUOW5FA76OkoPl3TTgoE0XK_T8ZNo9dsaySmw6ZoHNmjQ/s1600/304.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGh_Od-S0e8aWn1oNORBEy1T97ilVC9rX_eBkGObU9nUpzZ7n9ONmg_ReHsTEAf4-wz5aCx6X6LFp6DViqiV54s7hERWNI7oUOW5FA76OkoPl3TTgoE0XK_T8ZNo9dsaySmw6ZoHNmjQ/s640/304.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra jumped up from her position on the crummy bed she had been sitting on. For the first time, she could clearly see the face of her captor. She was surprised. He was younger than she had expected from his voice. He couldn’t be much older than her.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Get up,” he ordered briskly. On his arm, a different dragon than before chirped at them. The sound caused Charlotte to scramble up as well, staring at the dragon with fear.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Huh,</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> Lyra thought absently. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So that’s the ‘death dragon’.</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNHPsAzIXwxEpOQxfeG2tYVKwzC5OFeUFFGv5BHedHRqXX8zx1Y3HuGGWpSYrw5a50eKJXq5dLQ9W4J-PZHAgCbA5LNEpdk-p7Izx_iMrvrqnhq3jwGkoR7kFtfYhwFjLjxhgcr2saSQ/s1600/304.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNHPsAzIXwxEpOQxfeG2tYVKwzC5OFeUFFGv5BHedHRqXX8zx1Y3HuGGWpSYrw5a50eKJXq5dLQ9W4J-PZHAgCbA5LNEpdk-p7Izx_iMrvrqnhq3jwGkoR7kFtfYhwFjLjxhgcr2saSQ/s640/304.14.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If it had been up to me, I would have killed you the moment I found you,” the man informed them gruffly. “But my orders are clear, and it seems you’re in luck today. Our leader wants to give you a chance. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If </i>you answer our questions.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">He tilted his head up, staring down at them with cold eyes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“First question: What exactly are you doing in our world?” he demanded brusquely. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why </i>are you here? What do you hope to achieve?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We came to this world to look for my brother,” Charlotte answered him timidly. “At least, I did. Lyra here was brought along by accident. I’ve been following his trail for a long time now, and I finally found the world it leads to -”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSK7mSfVs3tmmbUzRFOO6x1PL7Jg69uzbRaDFn03N940LUHiRwNeBBN02JbuevTmu2gSCaLUjqdTEVT2AjivMkTjmttvva6AupmNcy9Uf6_elzIIeY7JsshtpZMG0SKvYc8OPFYm_o3o/s1600/304.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSK7mSfVs3tmmbUzRFOO6x1PL7Jg69uzbRaDFn03N940LUHiRwNeBBN02JbuevTmu2gSCaLUjqdTEVT2AjivMkTjmttvva6AupmNcy9Uf6_elzIIeY7JsshtpZMG0SKvYc8OPFYm_o3o/s640/304.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Spare me the sob-story,” the man interrupted her rudely. “What is the real reason?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The ghost raised her hands in defence.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I swear to you, it is the truth. I swear by the Keeper.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Keeper? </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra wondered, brow creased in confusion. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just why does this damn ghost keep going on about old wives’ tales?</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vUoPNwiK17cs3eVxmTPSkYg0bSuNTSFLpdVLMBKbAfhTfdzylRPsFkL8aqssF4F9K7TyOH6bCOgJLeme1LgamcD06Ahq3Je1wMCqVgjofqAND1vaHy0moOaKZ84O073-iawZS0xHxG0/s1600/304.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vUoPNwiK17cs3eVxmTPSkYg0bSuNTSFLpdVLMBKbAfhTfdzylRPsFkL8aqssF4F9K7TyOH6bCOgJLeme1LgamcD06Ahq3Je1wMCqVgjofqAND1vaHy0moOaKZ84O073-iawZS0xHxG0/s640/304.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">To be perfectly honest, Lyra hadn’t thought about those tales for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ages</i>. They were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bedtime </i>stories, for crying out. She remembered sitting on her granddad’s lap as a toddler, eagerly listening to him as he told her about the supernatural being that collected souls after death, thereby keeping the balance of the universe (or something like that: she couldn’t exactly remember all the details). She remembered nights of lying in her bed, listening to her dad’s strong, familiar voice reading her the stories he had written – stories about magic, creatures, different worlds, and the way they were all connected. They were just that though – stories. Nothing else.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why </i>did Charlotte keep mentioning those old tales, and why was this ass acting like she was talking sense? What would it matter if Charlotte swore by the Keeper or not?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man stared broodingly at them after that confession, his expression thoughtful as he seemingly mulled over the words.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM391Joc0vs4KBzIfKeVEEGAsYb6vpdg2F8nIIRKeglFtIS2wG6e0TdaPk6EsKzRkPKABcsBCzPi8OSDm4Wz0ZGvOY9rmgT420uFbXD2slsdBvaJY-Edi7hyLeS0u7OxDdqorf9meo220/s1600/304.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM391Joc0vs4KBzIfKeVEEGAsYb6vpdg2F8nIIRKeglFtIS2wG6e0TdaPk6EsKzRkPKABcsBCzPi8OSDm4Wz0ZGvOY9rmgT420uFbXD2slsdBvaJY-Edi7hyLeS0u7OxDdqorf9meo220/s640/304.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"A ghost, swearing by the Keeper,” he mused, breaking the silence. “How unusual.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Please,” Charlotte begged again. “Please, just let us go. I need to get Lyra back home before the Full Moon ends.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man snorted unceremoniously. “Fat chance of that,” he declared flatly. “This is a Gateway World, ghost. The Rift is closed for this cycle. If you really want that Rift to open again, you’ll have to convince our leader to reopen it. With all these Wilds about, I doubt you’ll be successful,” he sneered contemptuously.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Gateway World?” Charlotte questioned in a small voice, clearly stumped by the term.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“So what, you’re just going to keep us here, against our will?” Lyra interrupted crossly, angered by the ass’ demeaning attitude towards them. “We’ve done nothing wrong!”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-i_ETL7Ydk22mj7Mf3lWaZLKy-KhTppKXOWPwNUNheV6gJD__Bm6SFnNllFenxexlETf-fdPST7rWyWiHRU5NZ_kxtw1CWNXVUVtW5Wrtxf2tOQ0bARfSzKtKIkIqk7ZxpMWoh03g3o4/s1600/304.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-i_ETL7Ydk22mj7Mf3lWaZLKy-KhTppKXOWPwNUNheV6gJD__Bm6SFnNllFenxexlETf-fdPST7rWyWiHRU5NZ_kxtw1CWNXVUVtW5Wrtxf2tOQ0bARfSzKtKIkIqk7ZxpMWoh03g3o4/s640/304.18.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he snapped at her. “I might be willing to give <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>a chance, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you’ve</i> done nothing but antagonize me, so if I were you, I’d watch my step.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Fire snapped in her eyes and she gave a step forward, eager to give that arrogant ass a piece of her mind, but the dragon on his shoulder flared its wings in warning, causing her to flinch back. There must’ve been a reason Charlotte was so afraid of the damn thing.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“And don’t stick your uppity little nose in matters you don’t understand, human,” he continued his lecture. “There are only a handful of people with the power to reopen a closed Rift, and none of them will do it without our leader’s say-so.” </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Gateway World?” Charlotte asked again in a louder voice, her voice apprehensive.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">There were several moments of silence as the ass stared incredulously at the ghost.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You opened the Rift, but you don’t even know what a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gateway World </i>is?” he asked incredulously. “This the first time you jumped?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Mutely, the ghost nodded, her eyes wide.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRLwIOvkanf8f9aqbXWcMDhHCHAc4-j1Fqo_54KPbn2FRXmypRx152uKfff9elA6PVoFx1OIYJ4dN7dqcWO0T8P6wzBz2z33Pr3cjpksSDfsqbq9d65YMMVv7mTdSRYTOGe6wuRqIlnU/s1600/304.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwRLwIOvkanf8f9aqbXWcMDhHCHAc4-j1Fqo_54KPbn2FRXmypRx152uKfff9elA6PVoFx1OIYJ4dN7dqcWO0T8P6wzBz2z33Pr3cjpksSDfsqbq9d65YMMVv7mTdSRYTOGe6wuRqIlnU/s640/304.19.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve opened the Gate before, but I’ve never gone through,” she admitted. “I thought –“</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You didn’t,” the man growled at her before shaking his head. “Fuck this,” he muttered to himself. “Leneo can deal with this himself.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a round ‘o’ with surprise.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“…What did you say?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The man shot her an annoyed glare.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Nothing that concerns you,” he snapped before turning around to exit the room, but not before giving them one last warning.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you put even one toe out of line, I will put you down,” the man growled at them. He shook his head in dislike before he walked away from them, his footsteps disappearing into the distance.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw5hkVT7Gn6Mp8jE7P07dgUb4m7_P8mzfz9KdYt6qwOW06a4hBRT5khi-qbz4LUZe4gqJHYBytXXn6c4fpbm_MjtkJtZo72EzcdzCraC6ViKPvnBya86B2Z9l8LeozMhjlyCwS7GlNZ-Y/s1600/304.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw5hkVT7Gn6Mp8jE7P07dgUb4m7_P8mzfz9KdYt6qwOW06a4hBRT5khi-qbz4LUZe4gqJHYBytXXn6c4fpbm_MjtkJtZo72EzcdzCraC6ViKPvnBya86B2Z9l8LeozMhjlyCwS7GlNZ-Y/s640/304.20.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra sighed tiredly and sank to the floor of the cell. Charlotte just stared mutely at the cell wall, her thoughts clearly very, very far away. Lyra had absolutely no desire to talk to her, so she flatly ignored the ghost, choosing instead to glance at the dismal cell surrounding them.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">An indeterminate time later, their captor returned to their cell and with a noisy clank, he unlocked the door.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Come with me,” he ordered them briskly, opening the door and leading them off into the corridor without a second glance at them, his footsteps silent. Lyra followed quietly, taking the opportunity to study the people she could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel </i>looking suspiciously at her.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUjJ_ISNvSw7LY0h7LEvQqpF368IeDcBwg2HqEpMdYTwFGjb5EcP2BZiKV0QUi1xTKCU2vxGwVEHyKO6C03Yb8MVe0FPEO5ufGQdV9vvC2lGFappEACoYLk4OhwG9ca1mBl-SH216Gfo/s1600/304.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUjJ_ISNvSw7LY0h7LEvQqpF368IeDcBwg2HqEpMdYTwFGjb5EcP2BZiKV0QUi1xTKCU2vxGwVEHyKO6C03Yb8MVe0FPEO5ufGQdV9vvC2lGFappEACoYLk4OhwG9ca1mBl-SH216Gfo/s640/304.21.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">They weren’t like any people she’s seen before. There was a wary and dark air around them, as if any of them could kill her at any moment without spending any effort. More than that, they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">different</i>; some had skin that was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just </i>a shade too pale, others had eyes that were just a little too bright, and others…others had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wings</i>. Like fairies made human. It was utterly surreal.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Their captor – and honestly, how annoying was it to keep referring to him like that? Couldn’t he at least have given them his name? – led them to a corner across the room, where another man was standing, talking to a woman who gave of a feel of otherworldly beauty. In front of these people, Lyra felt like she was an insignificant bug that could be squashed with a simple wave.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Without question, Lyra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>that man was the ‘leader’ their captor had mentioned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePlW1KdzlmMfcbroD-bIuphF50KVxElv2aGnkYKzxzpZjqx0_MuM3YbcMJz77ngFKfgH94l8eeuMz7oJ9SEhBiEhWjmPlnFTtZ_wDL3nsYt3FKv_HiiWoqve7RzeFaKGFSoq9qrB-Lmg/s1600/304.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePlW1KdzlmMfcbroD-bIuphF50KVxElv2aGnkYKzxzpZjqx0_MuM3YbcMJz77ngFKfgH94l8eeuMz7oJ9SEhBiEhWjmPlnFTtZ_wDL3nsYt3FKv_HiiWoqve7RzeFaKGFSoq9qrB-Lmg/s640/304.22.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Our ‘guests’,” their captor announced their presence the people in front of them. “One idiotic ghost and one just as idiotic human.” </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Thank you, Blaise,” the ‘leader’ addressed their captor, the tone of his voice carrying a slight reprimand. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Ah, </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the ass finally has a name.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Beside her, Charlotte gave a startled gasp.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“No way,” she breathed in disbelief. “Leneo?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leader wordlessly raised his eyebrow at her, just a little, staring at the ghost for several long moments before recognition lit his face.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkTxavtcQqUJ41VLGiqbEc0uWxNf-QU9JflPET4EJ8BvYQgs9AOd9AfYS-qSV6wr8-n_GrtaUvJcQ5rHS-lkZARraPn4fBxGyF0DXv_WJqfwDrqSgTHh4qEM_Vz1zmnu6aeFRyZNIOfk/s1600/304.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkTxavtcQqUJ41VLGiqbEc0uWxNf-QU9JflPET4EJ8BvYQgs9AOd9AfYS-qSV6wr8-n_GrtaUvJcQ5rHS-lkZARraPn4fBxGyF0DXv_WJqfwDrqSgTHh4qEM_Vz1zmnu6aeFRyZNIOfk/s640/304.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Charlotte,” he reciprocated. “What a surprise.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re still alive,” Charlotte stated, her voice filled with wonder. “After all these years. I thought, that night – “</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ – that I died?” Leneo wryly completed her sentence. “Not quite. But that was centuries ago, so it doesn’t really matter in the here and now. What matters is that my son tells me you want to reopen the Rift to Sunset Valley.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The indifferent way he treated Charlotte must’ve taken her off-guard, as she was visibly surprised by the change of subject.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I…yes,” she agreed hesitantly. “The Gate…it wasn’t supposed to be used, but Lyra surprised me into opening it fully. I never meant to go through, and I definitely never meant for Lyra to come with. Her family and her entire life is in Sunset Valley, and I’m very close friends with her mother. I have to get her back.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPScHf819iAIX4yYmkDFKjf4wydKTpoacQdZHiXu-dlTh8HsJ3ephilZdXRxck_EjHGjmjE8ZeY7NlAYxzWt32W-sCyodSHbnRsoj_tspRD1pI2KzoAHqsC1y3_6IuitOcJ21dItVuCo/s1600/304.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPScHf819iAIX4yYmkDFKjf4wydKTpoacQdZHiXu-dlTh8HsJ3ephilZdXRxck_EjHGjmjE8ZeY7NlAYxzWt32W-sCyodSHbnRsoj_tspRD1pI2KzoAHqsC1y3_6IuitOcJ21dItVuCo/s640/304.24.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra crossed her arms and glanced away, slightly disturbed by Charlotte’s words. Her entire life was in Sunset Valley? Not quite. The only thing she had left in that godforsaken place was her family.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Leneo turned his gaze to Lyra, studying her with inquisitive eyes, but his words were directed at Charlotte.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You’re friends with her mother?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Yes,” Charlotte agreed. “I’ve known her since she was a very young girl, and I’ve known her children their entire lives. Chantia – that’s Lyra’s mother – was born on Full Moon, so she’s always been able to –“</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Charlotte was still talking, but Lyra could clearly see that Leneo was only paying attention with half an ear. Instead, the majority of his attention was fixed on Lyra herself.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1mNZ4LmW-7xlEjWa21OLQAPLhz6ht5iUJPtX4lU-TEIbSFWBKulboBu2yYPeQXGRlvqA8QGFNud9-3rl2nLJmHabdhNu0KDTIzmiwPMGcM_akgR9HkXISuU-IZAADC5N4KSxjwhWDQA/s1600/304.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1mNZ4LmW-7xlEjWa21OLQAPLhz6ht5iUJPtX4lU-TEIbSFWBKulboBu2yYPeQXGRlvqA8QGFNud9-3rl2nLJmHabdhNu0KDTIzmiwPMGcM_akgR9HkXISuU-IZAADC5N4KSxjwhWDQA/s640/304.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t feel you belong there, do you,” he addressed Lyra, interrupting Charlotte’s explanation. His words were a question, but his tone anything but.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra stared mutely at him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How </i>could he know that? Was it just a lucky guess?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Why would you say that?” she asked defensively, deflecting the question.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">His eerily glowing eyes continued staring at her, and there was some emotion in them that filled Lyra with dread. His question hadn’t been a lucky guess. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew</i>. Somehow, he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>that she had never felt like she belonged.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApOARsfOYbv6xKW_5TiCfk8TMCeWiH4FcKwaureRZCREdalxUEMZ0IS9OQ3Bu5D-YQF4So2OVS6xgBY_pQpnshyWI6LWAl0BY2LEF26DkDXrt-7-5_8-l0fHX0XLLexuV7pD1YCF39CA/s1600/304.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApOARsfOYbv6xKW_5TiCfk8TMCeWiH4FcKwaureRZCREdalxUEMZ0IS9OQ3Bu5D-YQF4So2OVS6xgBY_pQpnshyWI6LWAl0BY2LEF26DkDXrt-7-5_8-l0fHX0XLLexuV7pD1YCF39CA/s640/304.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">…But what would it matter anyway? She had to go home, whether she felt like she belonged or not. She had things she couldn’t abandon. Her family would be looking for her. She had photoshoots she had to complete. She had a myriad amount of arrangements she had to make before she could finally leave that godforsaken town. She still had to –</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I cannot allow the Rift to be reopened.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Her thoughts came to a crashing halt at those words. By her side, Charlotte immediately began to protest, but Leneo resolutely held his hand up to stop her.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VjD1vIgWfLQRmJXftVFLz6pWCGXgyX-sVyMccpERqLXx62_U1jJxF4PtigNnI6NuBJz7nV1SuoXaHeAxkF0x6-Y_z2_ZeIdQYvfqFfSXgd7VmJsMAntYmrNubHh0IEW2-_M5asCEH0k/s1600/304.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VjD1vIgWfLQRmJXftVFLz6pWCGXgyX-sVyMccpERqLXx62_U1jJxF4PtigNnI6NuBJz7nV1SuoXaHeAxkF0x6-Y_z2_ZeIdQYvfqFfSXgd7VmJsMAntYmrNubHh0IEW2-_M5asCEH0k/s640/304.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She’s an Anomaly, Charlotte,” he declared sharply. “Allowing her to return to return to a world <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she does not belong to</i> will only disrupt the Balance around that world even further. I cannot allow that. The Sunset Valley Balance is very, very close to being irreparably disrupted, and I will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>allow that to continue. Above all else, I serve the Keeper, and the Balance. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will not let the Rift be reopened</i>.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra stared mutely at him, horrified by his words. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the hell?! </i>How could he refuse her to go back? It was her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>! Yeah, sure, she didn’t exactly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>it, or even felt like she really belonged, but why would that give him reason to keep them here? It wasn’t right!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A subtle rustle of cloth drew her attention as the woman who had so far been standing silently and motionlessly turned to her. Once again, Lyra was struck by the otherworldly sense of beauty the woman radiated. From a completely conventional point of view the woman wasn’t even that pretty, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>about her made Lyra feel utterly mediocre in comparison.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix40REcxsSuMyRZxVkeMFxyHZvj5P9LTP9FYDr6NP4mPtsmag-nvtcrOXrUl5CpQUHc_sOvK5kyD-zO2QfclhiChbUKwA4O3QDMTb_NVaD7Ww0LKLVVZ3Na7Q38vZT_n5KWiQZRxkpl7c/s1600/304.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix40REcxsSuMyRZxVkeMFxyHZvj5P9LTP9FYDr6NP4mPtsmag-nvtcrOXrUl5CpQUHc_sOvK5kyD-zO2QfclhiChbUKwA4O3QDMTb_NVaD7Ww0LKLVVZ3Na7Q38vZT_n5KWiQZRxkpl7c/s640/304.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">In front of this woman, she was utterly unable to move or even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i>, simply staring at her in wonder, even as the woman delicately placed two fingers under her chin and forced her to look her in the eye. Images from an almost-forgotten dream from a night long, long ago flashed through her mind, swirling around and around, the images just as vivid as she remembered them, and voices from that same dream echoed off the walls of her mind, echoing again and again and again.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Anomaly. Not Right. Balance cannot be kept.</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8mNfNNwAQnAgI7HJXZfdYjLPgb95_ykgmCswbUNHP1SMWRYn7tSkL6fvB-VYnKfEi6_Ho29r3xs2WhGlcP-6Mbg2jhDcYlJ6K7oNhORG0ZyOASs3RNC_l4NoqvDJgZkHvtkfai7M12o/s1600/304.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="700" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8mNfNNwAQnAgI7HJXZfdYjLPgb95_ykgmCswbUNHP1SMWRYn7tSkL6fvB-VYnKfEi6_Ho29r3xs2WhGlcP-6Mbg2jhDcYlJ6K7oNhORG0ZyOASs3RNC_l4NoqvDJgZkHvtkfai7M12o/s640/304.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Keeper’s touch is upon you,” the voice of the woman sounded as if from far away, intruding into her thoughts. “He has identified you many, many years ago, as one the Balance cannot deal with. You are not here by accident.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra stared at the woman with tears in her eyes. Her mind was a fractured mess of vivid images, and she couldn’t focus on a single clear thought. Like snowflakes in a blizzard they swirled around and around, keeping her from forming a single lucid thought. She felt suspended, stuck in a snippet of time that would never move again. Everything around her, every sight, sound, texture, smell, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>, faded into the distance, and the only thing that kept her from drifting off into the infinity of the abyss was the vivid green eyes staring into her soul, and the light, gentle touch of two fingers placed beneath her chin.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQk0uMVSXGys2sTeX0vW5fg22_ApgrMmR7q0c_kmn8_KsJz9Clbj066hMzpX-b-oow5rGyk-PxHprSFIbYo09UBXNOkBJaQ_febwv7XKIZDS0Ldt2VciAN5ILC-uQzltufJXWITITBBIw/s1600/304.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQk0uMVSXGys2sTeX0vW5fg22_ApgrMmR7q0c_kmn8_KsJz9Clbj066hMzpX-b-oow5rGyk-PxHprSFIbYo09UBXNOkBJaQ_febwv7XKIZDS0Ldt2VciAN5ILC-uQzltufJXWITITBBIw/s640/304.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sleep, child,” the silver voice told her. “Tomorrow things will make more sense.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The fractured vivid images in her mind blackened, and she allowed darkness to pull her under.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Tomorrow things will make more sense.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra woke slowly and heavily, her eyes feeling gritty and her bones and muscles feeling leaden with fatigue. She had slept the sleep of the dead, but she didn’t feel rested in the least. She had a vicious headache splitting her brain right above her eyes and with a groan she buried her head in the soft pillow, attempting her best to drown out the pain and remember <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what the hell </i>she had done the previous night.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosQnYXj05M_dGlziUCVPiJmEbqXyU_wmq9WM-cmb9BvTlondd73KPPnNQNkudBhceRnHNZOTUb551QjFEIaBXGkabatVTR5vQ2lHvDg3txtIZeIchSlCIauMKfUKgHEoN9WFSpKGuWOc/s1600/304.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosQnYXj05M_dGlziUCVPiJmEbqXyU_wmq9WM-cmb9BvTlondd73KPPnNQNkudBhceRnHNZOTUb551QjFEIaBXGkabatVTR5vQ2lHvDg3txtIZeIchSlCIauMKfUKgHEoN9WFSpKGuWOc/s640/304.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Her eyes shot open as she remembered everything – Charlotte, that arrogant ass, Leneo, that beautiful woman, fractured images that were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">breaking her mind </i>–</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She gasped and shot up, trying her best to drive those images out of her mind, her heart racing. The images stubbornly lingered, twisting and mixing into one senseless picture, but to her relief, the images no longer felt like they were going to break her mind. They still gave her one heck of a headache though.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She glanced around at her surroundings, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything </i>to drive those images away.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Well, at least the room was an upgrade from her dismal lodgings of the previous day.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz1DjjXo2Uztu81JxoWvk4-PcFvH4hXt-D5HU80UjCDuISihLS2K-dSLmfELCYaeQhpX3NZfUeNamuWla2eU1w7M3TFV1o-h0bVENj2vcqMZhCkS2t9k2kThQoKuYVdG2wJGF0xU-D7E/s1600/304.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz1DjjXo2Uztu81JxoWvk4-PcFvH4hXt-D5HU80UjCDuISihLS2K-dSLmfELCYaeQhpX3NZfUeNamuWla2eU1w7M3TFV1o-h0bVENj2vcqMZhCkS2t9k2kThQoKuYVdG2wJGF0xU-D7E/s640/304.32.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A knock on the door startled her, causing her to jerk her head and stare at the closed door in apprehension. Charlotte was nowhere in sight, and for the first time Lyra realised she was completely alone.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alone, and somehow stuck in a place with no way to get home. And yes, she was so utterly aware that she could not go home. Amongst all the senseless, vivid pain and imagery, she came out of it with only one lucid thought:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">I mustn’t go back. I won’t ever belong there.</span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The knock on her door repeated, insistently. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob, </i>that was annoying. The sound drilled into her mind, poking and prodding at her blinding headache.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Annoyed, Lyra stalked across the room and jerked the door open.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What </i>is it?” she snapped irritably.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE88IZkYjI6w5qEnAvCbLydzW90jYm0hzRMMKOO6fbyh8lXi7ZRSjpQhPsSyyKcECfUi3TPDocpaDUy9cmfWgt-FYKmXh9JPiqDT4vK4YVwjQCYPPMwNo6ARGDydbw7mL903WoXW2Xrso/s1600/304.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE88IZkYjI6w5qEnAvCbLydzW90jYm0hzRMMKOO6fbyh8lXi7ZRSjpQhPsSyyKcECfUi3TPDocpaDUy9cmfWgt-FYKmXh9JPiqDT4vK4YVwjQCYPPMwNo6ARGDydbw7mL903WoXW2Xrso/s640/304.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The woman at her door simply lifted an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with Lyra’s snappish behaviour. She chewed on a piece of gum, blowing a bubble and popping it with a loud snap.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Alison wants to talk to you,” she informed Lyra, her entire bearing filled with boredom. “She told me to fetch you, so I’m fetching you.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“So what, are you a goddamn <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dog </i>to play fetch like an obedient little puppy?” Lyra snapped at her.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Ooh, testy, aren’t we?” the woman responded, not intimidated in the least. “I’m a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wolf</i>,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>love, not a dog. And if you don’t want to meet with the most powerful person on this island, then that’s not my problem.” She gave Lyra a sweet smile. “If you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do </i>care though, I’ll be waiting outside this room for five minutes. If you’re not here after that, I’ll assume you don’t care about the consequences and I’ll inform her promptly that you<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> don’t give a shit</i>.” She raised her eyebrows at Lyra challengingly. “So what’s it gonna be, love? Should I wait here like an obedient little puppy?”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnxXu992X4xR9cFRDfF9OhRo5mxj8ZSXdAURZQghyS8tkuqoh1T0iY4gaSOKBWQB6_dNx7CYxCK7lJTCAbqISrbCBTm9OghV6v4BSwPo9CpdjZphuTHN2I5FaprFUWrLjvaj_ctTouwE/s1600/304.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnxXu992X4xR9cFRDfF9OhRo5mxj8ZSXdAURZQghyS8tkuqoh1T0iY4gaSOKBWQB6_dNx7CYxCK7lJTCAbqISrbCBTm9OghV6v4BSwPo9CpdjZphuTHN2I5FaprFUWrLjvaj_ctTouwE/s640/304.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra ground her teeth together in anger. She was stuck in a completely foreign place, with absolutely no way to get back home, and as much as she would like to send this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">harpy </i>to hell, she was her only ticket to finding answers.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll be here.” With that she slammed the door shut, trying her best to forget the smug smile that was on the harpy’s face.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Five minutes later, she was back in the self-proclaimed wolf’s company, trailing sullenly behind her as she was led through the strange corridors of the place. There weren’t a lot of people around, but the ones who were around carried that same air of wariness and danger from the previous night.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKQcYndc8BL5IFn3D7cl6KFwLnOnw21xYqwDQaA4Tky089OtVLAhHR3p0d0GvoU2EBoNvIU9sbNGlZsi4mocVnlCqW3S_b8YGPQTjFWlEZw-wGroimHl48DnvrZlDj6Vgjg-Ktz1UGtk/s1600/304.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKQcYndc8BL5IFn3D7cl6KFwLnOnw21xYqwDQaA4Tky089OtVLAhHR3p0d0GvoU2EBoNvIU9sbNGlZsi4mocVnlCqW3S_b8YGPQTjFWlEZw-wGroimHl48DnvrZlDj6Vgjg-Ktz1UGtk/s640/304.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“What is this place anyway?” Lyra asked absently, feeling unsettled from the stares directed at the two of them. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Our base,” her escort answered with that same lazily bored tone she had initially greeted Lyra with. “Every Full Moon we gather here for the hunt, and in between to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">discuss </i>it. If you wanna know more, you’ll have to ask Alison.” With that she gestured lazily at a table where two women were already sitting – one of them being the woman she had talked to the previous night.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdCCkLx93lzrMKOwIaXWen42vVp28jPgT5fyT3vFmoW84iXfBjGfzcUyjqD2BWkCUmnuplKRLbouK-F66Me1x1T5edUwFIIgf3Xc8sWMBS-zBANlqrgP3Jts-xUT88d3VKdVs-hTCIaA/s1600/304.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdCCkLx93lzrMKOwIaXWen42vVp28jPgT5fyT3vFmoW84iXfBjGfzcUyjqD2BWkCUmnuplKRLbouK-F66Me1x1T5edUwFIIgf3Xc8sWMBS-zBANlqrgP3Jts-xUT88d3VKdVs-hTCIaA/s640/304.36.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come, take a seat,” the woman greeted Lyra with a friendly smile, gesturing at the empty chair. In the bright light of the room, she looked just like a normal, ordinary person. She was still beautiful, but Lyra no longer felt like the woman had that earth-shattering beauty that had captivated her and kept her in complete thrall the previous night. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“We have not been introduced properly,” she smiled at Lyra. “I am Alison Everhart, and this -” she gestured at the other woman sitting by the table, “- is Sionann Bernier, who you’ll be seeing quite a bit of in the next five years, fate willing. I understand your name is Lyra?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra nodded hesitantly and took the seat presented to her.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXOgM74IAG2a_-5ebIfw_tQI1KAMjWj__5RYDXCTmpmu1nk8iS5RH7Dr5Bo1Ja2MPDP3WJvN5xSZVy0yGx3vP6s4RjIvYZG-SWopaB3Od0X8PiJ2nnKHdGnx0QeniPzxzmjSTAnaz2Z8/s1600/304.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXOgM74IAG2a_-5ebIfw_tQI1KAMjWj__5RYDXCTmpmu1nk8iS5RH7Dr5Bo1Ja2MPDP3WJvN5xSZVy0yGx3vP6s4RjIvYZG-SWopaB3Od0X8PiJ2nnKHdGnx0QeniPzxzmjSTAnaz2Z8/s640/304.37.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra Marquel, yes,” she agreed. “What’s going on? What happened last night? And where is Charlotte?” She was desperate for a familiar face, even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">if </i>that face belonged to someone she wasn’t exactly fond of.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison hummed and took a sip from the cup in front of her. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“All difficult questions,” she remarked, glancing at Lyra over her glasses. “I believe Charlotte has moved on, after her conversation with my partner last night. She’s been…made aware of her actions, and I believe she’s come to an agreement with the Keeper. Whatever that agreement is, I do not have the privilege of knowing. As to what happened last night, to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>in particular,” she paused, taking another sip of tea, “is a bit more complicated. Tell me, child: what do you know of the Balance?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">…And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again </i>it was with the old wives’ tales. Why was everybody lately fixating on old bedtime stories?</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbg6EtJhyX5i23NehKv1H6DYdwMdQ5U52cB4fRubgCmYq5vz9IL9WIhwtlcZOPFn-srgJ68S72Cw3WGtifDlwQcQK5rv1AGvk_IUMuREogz8nCF-ZCVQx9MZKMmkrkBtNuy-klVuS5a4w/s1600/304.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbg6EtJhyX5i23NehKv1H6DYdwMdQ5U52cB4fRubgCmYq5vz9IL9WIhwtlcZOPFn-srgJ68S72Cw3WGtifDlwQcQK5rv1AGvk_IUMuREogz8nCF-ZCVQx9MZKMmkrkBtNuy-klVuS5a4w/s640/304.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I know it’s a fairy tale,” Lyra answered flatly. Honestly, she wasn’t a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">child</i>. “Something that’s been made up to entertain little children while they’re trying to go to sleep. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why </i>are you bringing this up?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Beside her, the fairy burst out laughing, her laughter ringing across the room in peals. Even Alison was smiling, like Lyra had told them a particularly funny joke. Well, whatever the joke was, she didn’t get it. There was nothing even remotely funny about the situation she found herself in.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“The Balance is not a fairy tale,” Alison informed her indulgently, her mouth still quirking up in amusement. “It is the truth of everything, the one thing that remains true in every single world out there. It is the one thing that governs the worlds, and the one thing that determines whether a world thrives, or dies. It is the one thing around which every single thing revolves. It is also,” she pointed out, “the reason why you cannot return home.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfmVrs4M1q6zD80HHOVDYpbd_vyll6qV5aNTZw3DSNwj35d-UuZQKO1j49GfaAht8nayn-Zj31ATOqoj3q00Yj9a9QO_JrtnExstf5obuWWfjj97dT5cMLLTY21mcpv7i3zXl8G8JgUI/s1600/304.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfmVrs4M1q6zD80HHOVDYpbd_vyll6qV5aNTZw3DSNwj35d-UuZQKO1j49GfaAht8nayn-Zj31ATOqoj3q00Yj9a9QO_JrtnExstf5obuWWfjj97dT5cMLLTY21mcpv7i3zXl8G8JgUI/s640/304.39.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Lyra felt her eye twitch at that reminder. This was ridiculous. She just wanted to go home, but the knowledge that she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">couldn’t</i>, that she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mustn’t</i>, was so deeply ingrained on her mind that she simply couldn’t dismiss it. She wanted answers, not some goddamn story.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The smile on Alison’s face softened, and a gentle look appeared in her eyes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I see I lost you,” she remarked gently. “Calm down, child, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">listen</i>. Let me explain to you why the Balance is not a fairy tale, and I promise, things will make more sense. Not only just the events from last night, but also things you didn’t even know didn’t make sense. I promise.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">There wasn’t even a hint of doubt in her voice. Lyra took a deep breath to try and calm down. She wanted answers. Bedtime story or not, if the answers really lied in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fairy tale</i>, she’d listen. Alison had told her that things would make more sense, so things had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better </i>make sense.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdgLN8NGnX50_VG6naR1_0-UxjKD2PbTTAfq6fnLlaf5wI8TjVeMPRMOE_Ipy5wDCe5ItWa1Fr-nT-tzMb-r-3pomj2opNLY266lZw5VZvawWiBuv6-q5N1CIS0ayd8djUY9sQO3kmgg/s1600/304.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="451" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdgLN8NGnX50_VG6naR1_0-UxjKD2PbTTAfq6fnLlaf5wI8TjVeMPRMOE_Ipy5wDCe5ItWa1Fr-nT-tzMb-r-3pomj2opNLY266lZw5VZvawWiBuv6-q5N1CIS0ayd8djUY9sQO3kmgg/s640/304.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">She sat up straight in her chair, and listened.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A/N: I’ve recently realised that I’d done an absolutely terrible job in explaining the lore of the Marquel universe, so I’ve created a new <a href="https://marquellegacy.blogspot.co.nz/p/blog-page_23.html">page that explains it</a>. Generation 3 is not going to make sense <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all</i> if you don’t have the lore, and the majority of Chantia’s part of the story in Generation 2 is lore-based (but slightly buried in between Sam’s drama), so I suggest reading it. Alison will explain the majority of the lore in the next chapter, but the lore page explains it in shorter and simpler terms, so feel free to take a glance. ;)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Also, how satisfying was it to see Lyra get a taste of her own medicine? XD I enjoyed writing it way too much. The sassy lovely wolf-lady is <a href="https://matthewsrandomlegacyredone.wordpress.com/download-a-sim/generation-3/melody-matthews/">Melody Matthews</a>, from <a href="https://matthewsrandomlegacyredone.wordpress.com/">FutureCarrie?’s blog</a>. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Some random stuff about the newly introduced sims:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Sionann Bernier - Sionann’s name is pronounced as Shaun-nahn. She is the 2<sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">nd</span></sup> generation heir of my wishacy, and the daughter of <a href="http://sims.wikia.com/wiki/Sean_Kelly">Sean Kelly</a> from Dragon Valley. She’s quite pretty for the daughter of a townie sim, isn’t she?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Leneo Ainsworth – Leneo is the 2<sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">nd</span></sup> generation heir of my play-for-fun RL. Charlotte is a spare from that same generation. So yes, Leneo was the brother she’s been looking for the whole time. ;)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Alison Everhart – My original play-for-fun RL save went glitchy after I installed IP, so I plucked Leneo out and made him the founder of my next attempt. Alison was his co-founder.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk488568602;"><span lang="EN-GB">Blaise Ainsworth/Everhart) – The son of Leneo and Alison, thus making him the 2<sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">nd</span></sup> generation spare for my second attempt at a play-for-fun RL.</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-28592305447605108422017-07-20T07:07:00.000+02:002017-07-20T07:07:33.997+02:00Personal Interlude: Where in the world did Ann go?<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, after a way too long time, I've finally returned to my legacy. If anybody was wondering where I'd run off to, well...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been busy doing this:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uffpj4L-mDHlLWKHdCpkxwOppRwe1YZKOs_Dv_a9xpV9wEeF-wjNplHn2XpODqT-uF-bu1blxEI5a3UnAjCc_lFpWeIomlqP-jBcyAUcA5UjnGViJNGh9TAlDAAuOXdQCX9ItoRfhbc/s1600/skydive-at-nz019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uffpj4L-mDHlLWKHdCpkxwOppRwe1YZKOs_Dv_a9xpV9wEeF-wjNplHn2XpODqT-uF-bu1blxEI5a3UnAjCc_lFpWeIomlqP-jBcyAUcA5UjnGViJNGh9TAlDAAuOXdQCX9ItoRfhbc/s640/skydive-at-nz019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYg8edpTWh_EQhKebSAZBl8CJtPOrk_GoHqrdZHCEEfIEAEmuXHdQvOSKgLXL5GFFBTGjpdvVxPUMMn0VkHsDkzRqPQbO9LXuK0vIvaM6WezQs-u8cguUx6PkPsxqGChveElSNqBGsGlo/s1600/DSC_0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYg8edpTWh_EQhKebSAZBl8CJtPOrk_GoHqrdZHCEEfIEAEmuXHdQvOSKgLXL5GFFBTGjpdvVxPUMMn0VkHsDkzRqPQbO9LXuK0vIvaM6WezQs-u8cguUx6PkPsxqGChveElSNqBGsGlo/s640/DSC_0252.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWriwS1_yBtLHX2yAVrX0ReJMdy2cVaHumur9oo8q5qFF0L_S4u69jb2qUlHBIgma387u6Re4nMmwsE9fHOtjfeFByCsZjsyPYrkr1uBwy2r6BkrLNuGUT3qeZ0ks0H6Tv3UiUBYaRJ0/s1600/15419738_1158542184256432_456156834325645583_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWriwS1_yBtLHX2yAVrX0ReJMdy2cVaHumur9oo8q5qFF0L_S4u69jb2qUlHBIgma387u6Re4nMmwsE9fHOtjfeFByCsZjsyPYrkr1uBwy2r6BkrLNuGUT3qeZ0ks0H6Tv3UiUBYaRJ0/s640/15419738_1158542184256432_456156834325645583_o.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> ...and so on. XD</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In all honesty though, real life just completely caught up to me. I had been given the most amazing opportunity of working on a farm in a different country (New Zealand) for just under a year. I've been trying to make the absolute best out of this opportunity, so I've been travelling and meeting people and ticking things off my bucket list and doing things I would never have previously even <i>tried </i>to do. I've learned how to drive tractors, went camping on my own, spent hours languishing in hot pools surrounded by snow and mountains, spent <i>more </i>hours working in pouring rain and getting animals out of ditches (and enjoying it all the way). </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been having a hell of a lot of fun, and simming simply didn't cross my mind. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">...But lately, in the quiet moments, Lyra's been knocking on my door, going "Remember me?"</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And well, of course I did. I opened my game for the first time in over a year and went: Oh yeah, this is why I enjoyed it so much. Rereading my previous chapters only served to remind me even more, so here I am. Hopefully this time, I won't disappear again. XD </span></span>convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-47316856946533933022016-04-07T11:12:00.000+02:002016-04-10T09:00:11.195+02:00Chapter 3.03 - Status Quo<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The clouds growled with thunder,
threatening to open their contents and soak the world below with water.
Overhead the autumn sky was dark and dreary, perfectly matching Lyra’s mood as
she walked down the pavement. She barely noticed the solemn arch in front of
her, too absorbed in her thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aQXp4yCTmMY2jqLc4qT1myk6M9KdN_4-EF1nq_Br1VSW_sWX1IKd3sIKOB5BjYMJ30SL4h-oZY0zeINouipXH6o0zOImIcied6rn6k4Ooecyja9EsrG6W2654UEHh5syAD5l8oVcYSo/s1600/303.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aQXp4yCTmMY2jqLc4qT1myk6M9KdN_4-EF1nq_Br1VSW_sWX1IKd3sIKOB5BjYMJ30SL4h-oZY0zeINouipXH6o0zOImIcied6rn6k4Ooecyja9EsrG6W2654UEHh5syAD5l8oVcYSo/s640/303.01.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It had been five years since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>. Could it really already be
so long? When exactly had the years gone by? She couldn’t remember. The pain
had dulled, but there were still times she wanted to turn to her dad for
advice, only to remember that he was no longer there to give her any answers.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The graveyard was quiet for the most part,
most of the people sensibly staying inside and out of the wind. But it was the
anniversary of her dad’s death, and she had already put off visiting for far
too long, so here she was; doing the not-so-sensible thing of walking in the biting
wind at a time most people already started preparing for the night, all on her
own in a forlorn cemetery. At least it wasn’t raining.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVRR9QX75xJbBvmSWuqNc69vfbjYnWwcZ6wSk5mAXkf_9kVLRyMRbEo9aCHDZJjyZfSadPJfYKAyfCh1z9wTFXq9-HCFy6s8Bp74m6siU7dTHb7_IqjIcgOWC7v9TDr3dRMfz4nXNjVU/s1600/303.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVRR9QX75xJbBvmSWuqNc69vfbjYnWwcZ6wSk5mAXkf_9kVLRyMRbEo9aCHDZJjyZfSadPJfYKAyfCh1z9wTFXq9-HCFy6s8Bp74m6siU7dTHb7_IqjIcgOWC7v9TDr3dRMfz4nXNjVU/s640/303.02.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her steps faltered slightly as she rounded
the corner and her dad’s grave came into sight. There was another person
braving the windy night, completely lost in his thoughts as he stared at the
grave. The oh-so-hated scar on his cheek glared at Lyra, reminding her that he
had just as much right to be here as she did. The scar had faded with time, but
Lyra knew it would never disappear completely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG33Az0_Qg09AiA4Ztx7QpawtazHEFPqKq4qQ76WPoiVOUxWpK18ENSPhMKqzLuemA5UEjtqa9wsdY6STMDhVyB4e5K5HSOSj6f0DzxF8AtM33va-wAifLQKN3ZP2Ax4e4FOke2DCcO8M/s1600/303.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG33Az0_Qg09AiA4Ztx7QpawtazHEFPqKq4qQ76WPoiVOUxWpK18ENSPhMKqzLuemA5UEjtqa9wsdY6STMDhVyB4e5K5HSOSj6f0DzxF8AtM33va-wAifLQKN3ZP2Ax4e4FOke2DCcO8M/s640/303.03.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She didn’t acknowledge him as she
approached the grave. There were two bouquets of flowers present, indicating
that someone other than the two of them had already visited as well. Almost
reverently, she laid the flowers in her hand on the grave to join the other
bouquets and stepped back, joining her brother in silent contemplation. His
eyes were shuttered, and Lyra wasn’t entirely sure he had even noticed her
presence. It didn’t take a genius to notice he was still silently blaming
himself for the events of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The hand squeezing her shoulder informed
her that he wasn’t as oblivious to her presence as he appeared. She hadn’t seen
him in ages, and if it was anybody else she would’ve drawn away, but they <i>had
</i>been rather close at a stage in their lives, and in that moment they were
united by their mutual sorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseLVLZ7BN1-VExrIFLae4HitF8ybpU3OW6Ws3v-HQ9LHiuJiwprZKOER_Ew-SLk9r5Ynqf2cDl_2HWDtxbsOEG4zNb7nMzlbOikMAShxl6S_uMvXXGFMKmyxBUiv1of8-LEGNSkQW0Ro/s1600/303.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseLVLZ7BN1-VExrIFLae4HitF8ybpU3OW6Ws3v-HQ9LHiuJiwprZKOER_Ew-SLk9r5Ynqf2cDl_2HWDtxbsOEG4zNb7nMzlbOikMAShxl6S_uMvXXGFMKmyxBUiv1of8-LEGNSkQW0Ro/s640/303.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was several moments before Renard pulled
himself far enough out of his thoughts to acknowledge Lyra’s presence.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Been a while,” he stated casually, his
eyes still studying the granite in front of them and his hands retreating back
into his pockets. “How’ve you been?”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She gave him a wry smile. “Fine,” she replied.
“I’ve been…fine.”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Good. That’s good,” he nodded and fell
silent again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGwTrQK85Vg4upiRYA-9BvhzQVc9J0x7oTpkO7_nr9mwaybz3S8ZEjsBnhzPms3wvgkRJflYi74dMJ_6LGB1ZvLHvoydrH6QYPqrNyM03hyyzO5IU-v85wrHcZEKuwX2i0ITb9xVx-UY/s1600/303.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGwTrQK85Vg4upiRYA-9BvhzQVc9J0x7oTpkO7_nr9mwaybz3S8ZEjsBnhzPms3wvgkRJflYi74dMJ_6LGB1ZvLHvoydrH6QYPqrNyM03hyyzO5IU-v85wrHcZEKuwX2i0ITb9xVx-UY/s640/303.05.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was like a conversation between
strangers that had absolutely no common interests. They stood in awkward
silence, neither one of them knowing what to talk about. They had simply
drifted too far apart from each other.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was sad, Lyra thought, considering how
much he once meant to her. How special he still <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>. But they had both continued on with their lives, and that same
camaraderie that had once caused them to prank their sister together no longer
existed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwMJxbhpE6ahMsOUsZxS8IB9wht1dftG8UnMPuGlq4UUzabAJoORXC1vcFNbQZDJ58Q8Wu1TgBZf-W23hXTN2yqYksSjzF1h_5zttAN-T5b2PWtQrMAl9mzSa0immu6FD2l71r8qTi2I/s1600/303.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwMJxbhpE6ahMsOUsZxS8IB9wht1dftG8UnMPuGlq4UUzabAJoORXC1vcFNbQZDJ58Q8Wu1TgBZf-W23hXTN2yqYksSjzF1h_5zttAN-T5b2PWtQrMAl9mzSa0immu6FD2l71r8qTi2I/s640/303.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “And
you?” Lyra asked after a while, desperate to keep the conversation flowing.
“How have you and Ingrid been?” Renard had married his high school girlfriend
several years previously in a quiet, private ceremony. Needless to say, Arienne
hadn’t been present at the event.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Not much
to say,” he replied. “Can’t say we have any complaints. She’s…started to talk
about children though.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWmY2VeZWEvqiXqcyQRYhFzYvcsYXTJFIBMA4V8O8Hd56snPM_CLzqAwciuWRlpMiiBm60PJvrD8NRAw1XrHZ8nC7mV77TU9Hu9_bJrZ75vUZbLtZy0-3UGo5VgnQqV928IsZkzhJISI/s1600/303.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWmY2VeZWEvqiXqcyQRYhFzYvcsYXTJFIBMA4V8O8Hd56snPM_CLzqAwciuWRlpMiiBm60PJvrD8NRAw1XrHZ8nC7mV77TU9Hu9_bJrZ75vUZbLtZy0-3UGo5VgnQqV928IsZkzhJISI/s640/303.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> That instantly had Lyra’s attention.
Renard, a father? What a strange thought. She supposed it had to happen
eventually, but for some reason she had simply never thought about it. Thinking
about Renard and children was like thinking about a terrible disaster in the
making. Of course, he could’ve grown more responsible since Lyra had last seen
him – probably <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i> – but Lyra simply
couldn’t compute the thought.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Renard and children…just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t</i> go together.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “What a scary thought,” she murmured.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZrVRM4psuFxT45iFdWikrXtSf_hUgkvbDag2fSvlFeIEva0-c6nCuRkA31EhLi4TdcMQHVqgQ5OQA66Okq0Tm18FdM1WtygEDuVinGxDYvFIA_907qACxaG18kv8l-6F8HX62Q-iHGQ/s1600/303.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZrVRM4psuFxT45iFdWikrXtSf_hUgkvbDag2fSvlFeIEva0-c6nCuRkA31EhLi4TdcMQHVqgQ5OQA66Okq0Tm18FdM1WtygEDuVinGxDYvFIA_907qACxaG18kv8l-6F8HX62Q-iHGQ/s640/303.08.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The words caused Renard to laugh. The sound
wasn’t quite like Lyra remembered it, but it was still refreshing to hear. In
the days between their dad’s death and the day she had last seen him (which,
coincidently, had been the day he had gotten married), she had never heard him
laugh even once. Of course, she hadn’t seen him much, but still.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “That’s been more or less my reaction too,
yes,” he agreed, an amused smile playing on his lips. “I’d be a horrible dad.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Well, at least you have a great example to
follow,” Lyra murmured, her eyes fixed on the grave in front of them.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> His eyes immediately shuttered again and
the smile fell from his lips.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Yeah, I guess,” he replied softly and
retreated back into his thoughts again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJmOGCivZlX11lPrQ2U12nKSoty1DBYocn5xJ9azT3J_XMdMlAIKPPDSZ-3wWpN8hyxYFu86vd3f3jIj6IgOhjLMGA-UrsuKP4P5TShcDOKa46DCXjM9Np5ag0acRVWS6MlDrY5Y4ds8/s1600/303.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXJmOGCivZlX11lPrQ2U12nKSoty1DBYocn5xJ9azT3J_XMdMlAIKPPDSZ-3wWpN8hyxYFu86vd3f3jIj6IgOhjLMGA-UrsuKP4P5TShcDOKa46DCXjM9Np5ag0acRVWS6MlDrY5Y4ds8/s640/303.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> They fell into silence again, and Lyra took
the chance to study the bouquets on the grave, wondering where the second one
came from. It had to be either her mother, or Arienne, but she wasn’t entirely
sure. She’d been drifting slightly away from her mother as well, choosing to
spend more time at Edwin’s place than at her own house. She still hadn’t
officially moved in with him though, even if they had been dating for almost
three years now. She didn’t want to leave her mother entirely alone in the
house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfDlloVmgLiLDiZlruzoLFX6VnWJMrCAg7V08yM5hDbWWuKFTUeocVBJpeMHO5CL8TaANXQhgG3yXiQL3k8XEP3d2WUraZyzR68YOoII5XxpQF_bfWdOzJ32OPQ73iC6wEzni6Bycn6o/s1600/303.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfDlloVmgLiLDiZlruzoLFX6VnWJMrCAg7V08yM5hDbWWuKFTUeocVBJpeMHO5CL8TaANXQhgG3yXiQL3k8XEP3d2WUraZyzR68YOoII5XxpQF_bfWdOzJ32OPQ73iC6wEzni6Bycn6o/s640/303.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Arienne,”
Renard murmured softly and gestured at the flowers Lyra was staring at with a
slight tilt of his chin. “She left just as I arrived.” He clenched his jaw and
a muscle jumped in his cheek. “We had…words,” Renard admitted, his eyes pained
and distant.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra sighed internally. So the feud was
still going strong.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Not of the good kind, I gather,” she stated
softly. He clenched his jaw again and gave a terse shake of his head.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Not of the good kind, no,” he agreed
tersely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpV1MhDehr6URScgq5LYe55KljC4ifmMsKWkDIy7RxfK7ffZYBOu1TV58D0PsHwmval3fcXEbmpmIFjxUDnBxCflHfTfPFLO7EejOde_MmB4aJPLZfolRJKDF5r-JeFW6utfIez6oG5Y/s1600/303.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpV1MhDehr6URScgq5LYe55KljC4ifmMsKWkDIy7RxfK7ffZYBOu1TV58D0PsHwmval3fcXEbmpmIFjxUDnBxCflHfTfPFLO7EejOde_MmB4aJPLZfolRJKDF5r-JeFW6utfIez6oG5Y/s640/303.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> This time Lyra sighed audibly. As much as
she loved her sister, there were times she wished Arienne would stop being such
a self-centred little bitch. Her continued insistence to treat their brother
like some kind of criminal irritated the hell out of Lyra. It would be so much
easier to fix her family’s bonds if the older girl (woman now, really) just
stopped with her damn stubborn streak.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Anyway,” Renard said, drawing Lyra’s
thoughts back to the present, “I have to get going; I’m on duty tonight. It was
nice to see you again. We should catch up sometime soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZ2VHLy63kWy6BuJwZq7Ub3ZVQih22gbQGLMZFa8FQD64tJYbbtEO9RrXSxHerlVbzVQPF9MiXha5bw2gfmnCO2Ljph4O7VCgXwUZaDdnUCVZyVULRw7WKDF9CEcxSyRpdmfSxt6Gd40/s1600/303.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZ2VHLy63kWy6BuJwZq7Ub3ZVQih22gbQGLMZFa8FQD64tJYbbtEO9RrXSxHerlVbzVQPF9MiXha5bw2gfmnCO2Ljph4O7VCgXwUZaDdnUCVZyVULRw7WKDF9CEcxSyRpdmfSxt6Gd40/s640/303.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Yeah, like that was going to happen, Lyra mused.
The moment he walked away he’d probably forget all about his family, making
absolutely no effort to stay in contact. Just like he had done all these years.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Yeah, sure,” she said without enthusiasm,
lifting her hand in farewell. “See you.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He gave her a tight, small smile before
walking away, leaving her to once more stand alone in the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHbxd93Jtpa51V9leCBhG6-uZfdK3jzhPBJ_qoi22LkhOTd2PqW4WnUmA0EV6bFSDYNUuiZRVwuqQr4O_DHhChzS-Ec0FxWE6XvDIUloX1oxKTm3NaoNM4DTbTeiLZKSzhwKwW565ErY/s1600/303.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHbxd93Jtpa51V9leCBhG6-uZfdK3jzhPBJ_qoi22LkhOTd2PqW4WnUmA0EV6bFSDYNUuiZRVwuqQr4O_DHhChzS-Ec0FxWE6XvDIUloX1oxKTm3NaoNM4DTbTeiLZKSzhwKwW565ErY/s640/303.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The sky had started clearing, but in return
the cold wind had become even stronger. Lyra pulled her jacket closer against
her shoulders. She was going to get chilled to the bone if she stayed much
longer.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Things would’ve been so much simpler if
you were still here,” she murmured to the silent grave, her eyes studying the
familiar words engraved in the stone. The grave remained silent, just like she
had expected it to. She laughed softly, amused by her own thoughts. “Maybe I
just need to get away for a bit; go somewhere far away from here,” she joked.
“Maybe then when I come back, everything will just be magically fixed.” She
snorted. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if problems could be fixed liked that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlV-_vmRAXsARmajQNo5Lmc1_LCi-e5zGZ_Jufm5Q_zeuvBGd16x1eN6eHzqbqisx69W-Nbsc0ZjCYYDLwJrSoGDucVJtVj78jc3SoX5qzW9FXQpCMXlnBqN9DoG0P3LI1Kmtm_awTdAU/s1600/303.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlV-_vmRAXsARmajQNo5Lmc1_LCi-e5zGZ_Jufm5Q_zeuvBGd16x1eN6eHzqbqisx69W-Nbsc0ZjCYYDLwJrSoGDucVJtVj78jc3SoX5qzW9FXQpCMXlnBqN9DoG0P3LI1Kmtm_awTdAU/s640/303.14.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She smiled and turned away, walking down
the pavement back to the exit, and back to the present. She still missed her
dad immensely, but she had learned how to live in the present. The ghosts were
still there, but they no longer held her captive. Time had definitely dulled
the pain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq9GozqPkW3nz24pEzY82v-8cSDG9cflsMmhNtRNt7I1Ksfo-cR-CxIO9Zyg3LEkFluEX1N7G4cFfo9PglC-uxDeUHIgfKSUWypmqrsSeFlfPjFidKH0HLHmcPUDYybKNtphRZ7XFaQ0/s1600/303.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq9GozqPkW3nz24pEzY82v-8cSDG9cflsMmhNtRNt7I1Ksfo-cR-CxIO9Zyg3LEkFluEX1N7G4cFfo9PglC-uxDeUHIgfKSUWypmqrsSeFlfPjFidKH0HLHmcPUDYybKNtphRZ7XFaQ0/s640/303.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The wind was howling by the time she
returned home, but the moment she reached the little valley her house was
located in the worst of the wind was cut off by the mountains, leaving her
feeling warm and sheltered. She entered the house in a much better mood than
she had expected she would.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> To her surprise, the house wasn’t silent
and empty tonight. Tonight, she almost couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock
over the music coming from the stereo, and from the direction of the kitchen
she could clearly hear voices. For a change her mother was actually at home and
not out working, but it was the second voice that really surprised Lyra.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Talk of the devil and she shall appear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPYKkFaawk9DHovb3RZzFWvNQjKvxbhsAO4HVUy7YxFkFikcP_G95R5VE3gK_86j2qAxcwr2wcuGOo5ydrlZDytBEaLSuLUWZ-d-ApJ-JkgEDQjOnfOzAse2k3lsxKMKNH6qMhJrC62o/s1600/303.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPYKkFaawk9DHovb3RZzFWvNQjKvxbhsAO4HVUy7YxFkFikcP_G95R5VE3gK_86j2qAxcwr2wcuGOo5ydrlZDytBEaLSuLUWZ-d-ApJ-JkgEDQjOnfOzAse2k3lsxKMKNH6qMhJrC62o/s640/303.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Arienne was talking to their mother, her
posture relaxed and happy. Lyra felt a flash of irritation at the sight. It
wasn’t fair for Arienne to be so carefree, not after she had caused Renard so
much pain.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Huh. Look who deigned to grace us with her
presence,” Lyra stated snidely, leaning against the door threshold. Arienne
looked at her with a slight scowl on her face, her good mood instantly
disrupted. It was then Lyra noticed the tear streaks on her sister's face, and
the tightness around her eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Girls,” their mother warned them before Arienne
could respond to the insult. She huffed and turned back to their mother. For
one of the few times in her life, Lyra didn't push the issue. The smudged
mascara brought back memories she'd rather not think about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2aK4VnOO21E1Yuc0dXUFdPHOPOJqLlFSDtouMDaQt3Ms5oj0BAZRdZy6NSbbv9Qd7gbQtsTxd3mCEMdgvNCNZ-VhKa01Dd6uMt9FJviNDrt-56l5_1ksa74q3GYa7P20wYiVFy5Zkwk/s1600/303.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2aK4VnOO21E1Yuc0dXUFdPHOPOJqLlFSDtouMDaQt3Ms5oj0BAZRdZy6NSbbv9Qd7gbQtsTxd3mCEMdgvNCNZ-VhKa01Dd6uMt9FJviNDrt-56l5_1ksa74q3GYa7P20wYiVFy5Zkwk/s640/303.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "It's okay, I have to go home anyway,"
Arienne said with averted eyes, standing up from the table. "We're having
dinner with Max's parents tonight, so he's waiting for me."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The retort was out of Lyra's mouth before
she could stop it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">"Oh, so you have dinner with your
husband's parents, but not with us. I didn't realise we mean this little to
you."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Inwardly, she berated herself. She hadn't
meant to say that. Her family was already messed up enough - she didn't need to
exacerbate the situation.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The corners around Arienne's eyes
tightened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DgfY3YixaV7wsfIX3iQBrvA3kdrNHpOyyOaRP_0nt_QYG0FT1mkpGSsyDC1bQHdj4OdVQggkFCeoVmzBwtI6QMEEoY5uvsCbi49bvONFqezZXTOShEDcGFm_Hj_7Hk1ZJM5eG7qguGQ/s1600/303.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DgfY3YixaV7wsfIX3iQBrvA3kdrNHpOyyOaRP_0nt_QYG0FT1mkpGSsyDC1bQHdj4OdVQggkFCeoVmzBwtI6QMEEoY5uvsCbi49bvONFqezZXTOShEDcGFm_Hj_7Hk1ZJM5eG7qguGQ/s640/303.18.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "What I do with my time has nothing to
do with you, Lyra," she retorted bitterly. "And have you ever stopped
to consider that maybe it's this exact attitude of yours that makes me <i>not </i>want
to spend time with you? I don't have to listen to your barbs, Lyra. I have
enough crap in my life already." She shot Lyra a glare and walked out of
the room, and several seconds later, Lyra heard her close the front door behind
her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her mother gave an exasperated sigh, making
Lyra feel even worse. Why, oh <i>why</i>, couldn't she just keep her mouth
shut?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Honestly, Lyra, that was completely
uncalled for," her mother berated her. The words caused irritation to rise
in Lyra's chest. She already knew it, dammit. She didn't need anyone to tell
her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Whatever," she retorted with a
scowl, her previous good mood completely disrupted. "What the hell is her
issue in anyway?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphen-46gbqegsDB2wRjcrpZpcGPTh9KUyfcFv9jkdlcuyU8F5Ph11ccMy34bXABmAoFTFkn5IZ6Cf4NJdFeHB32wn_FqzbO0INyarL_5bKrJwgITbLg1Z4AxSRZWcaluyMq2dC-PswxKdk/s1600/303.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphen-46gbqegsDB2wRjcrpZpcGPTh9KUyfcFv9jkdlcuyU8F5Ph11ccMy34bXABmAoFTFkn5IZ6Cf4NJdFeHB32wn_FqzbO0INyarL_5bKrJwgITbLg1Z4AxSRZWcaluyMq2dC-PswxKdk/s640/303.19.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her mother fixed her with a pointed stare. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Shouldn't you be the one asked
that?" she asked pointedly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The last bit of Lyra's temper snapped at
the question. She <i>got </i>it already. She was a horrible person who only
managed to fuck up everything around her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Fine, I get it," she snapped at
her mother. "I'll go, since I'm <i>clearly </i>not welcome here." She
turned on her heel and marched out of the house, scarcely noticing where she
was going. The moment she stepped out the house, the raging gusts of wind
immediately made her regret her decision, but her pride wouldn't let her go
back. Instead, she set a course for Edwin's house, hoping he wasn't out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7BwoFWxvI747NivkRL2azOabkQFv_oUW5Bvk24uotgGQ8WfS1RgtWyI_jmilzdOvpldQAvNMDv_LRhZ9-LNCbhVFHiwi-wqfZr9KV3F-QNYwVyTqqaSaqSFajyXSmObjCl1OwRdLQLQ/s1600/303.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7BwoFWxvI747NivkRL2azOabkQFv_oUW5Bvk24uotgGQ8WfS1RgtWyI_jmilzdOvpldQAvNMDv_LRhZ9-LNCbhVFHiwi-wqfZr9KV3F-QNYwVyTqqaSaqSFajyXSmObjCl1OwRdLQLQ/s640/303.20.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Is something wrong?" Edwin asked
her when she arrived at his house and sank unto his couch with a sigh. She
dropped her head on his shoulder and soaked in his warmth, calmed and comforted
by his presence.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Fight with my mom and sister,"
she murmured softly, inexplicably tired out by her outburst. Edwin made a noise
of agreement and wordlessly wrapped his arm around her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "It happens," he comforted her.
"If it's any solace, I had to flee from my mother as well. She simply
wouldn't <i>stop </i>with the annoying questions." Lyra smiled slightly at
his statement, understanding his pain. He didn't need to clarify which
questions he was referring to. Lyra herself had also been exposed to them,
numerous times. His mother <i>so </i>desperately wanted a daughter-in-law.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnYc2lrw5wG2W3OapGj9lGBntbvXJ2T7KDCfnpyLtseQjmFh6TYkZ4V4hQR44YxeapLZSjWgrFZNH0W8DcsUhnwuBpLpLuA_6moMlnWfTwWl6FEJQXZ7B2L7sBnkLZiojwteW2oN16eI/s1600/303.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnYc2lrw5wG2W3OapGj9lGBntbvXJ2T7KDCfnpyLtseQjmFh6TYkZ4V4hQR44YxeapLZSjWgrFZNH0W8DcsUhnwuBpLpLuA_6moMlnWfTwWl6FEJQXZ7B2L7sBnkLZiojwteW2oN16eI/s640/303.21.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> They sat in silence for some time, both of
them content to watch the scenes airing on the TV, merely enjoying each other's
presence. The story on the TV was a pretty terrible thriller called
'Sharks...on Land!', and before long, Lyra got swept up by the bad clichés and
corny dialogue.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Plumbob, this is terrible," she
accused laughingly. "Why on earth are you watching this?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Edwin flashed her a roguish grin at her
accusation.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Because it's funny," he
admitted. "It's supposed to be scary, but as you can see, it's anything
but. I suppose it is gory," he conceded, "but the gore only makes it
funnier."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "You're right," Lyra agreed and
snuggled deeper into his side, settling down to watch the rest of the terrible
movie.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2OHytdsJZlzO8bpS-VodkfalZ-ymCKCfPcHZgf8tDtyvFkZhyphenhyphen7xJP9ktXVk0APjgLgAsikH9GaDvz1linsqCJGXo6Q7930xQG-X1Nd7qbVxc0Wy6GA0EopsoD7uAGG_EzoapvXsrgtI/s1600/303.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2OHytdsJZlzO8bpS-VodkfalZ-ymCKCfPcHZgf8tDtyvFkZhyphenhyphen7xJP9ktXVk0APjgLgAsikH9GaDvz1linsqCJGXo6Q7930xQG-X1Nd7qbVxc0Wy6GA0EopsoD7uAGG_EzoapvXsrgtI/s640/303.22.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The next day dawned bright and clear,
bringing with it the promise of a warm and sunny day. It was a welcome change
from the dreary and rainy conditions that had plagued the town the last week or
so, so when Edwin suggested they spend the day at the beach, followed by a
picnic at their own special secluded spot, Lyra thought nothing of it and
immediately agreed.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Unfortunately, the water was way too cold
to swim in, so they moved to their spot quite early in the day, spending most
of the time just lazing around, simply soaking up the sun and talking about
nonconsequential things.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_Z9y7SzSextVvO7Q0La5i34mUCyWLFu9KNDhTKPptlKFdt4yicGkh3MdNxmxHrvEDKuS1C77LCo2b0kq4PdIW-Awx3HrXF2-2WVeNeFP2iU2flYXxEJX1gKLP_dl_7BOF2yvrzKzr_k/s1600/303.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_Z9y7SzSextVvO7Q0La5i34mUCyWLFu9KNDhTKPptlKFdt4yicGkh3MdNxmxHrvEDKuS1C77LCo2b0kq4PdIW-Awx3HrXF2-2WVeNeFP2iU2flYXxEJX1gKLP_dl_7BOF2yvrzKzr_k/s640/303.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She should've seen it coming. She should've
known that it wasn't just any normal day; that Edwin had planned something
else, but she <i>hadn't</i>, so she was completely blindsided by his actions
when he finally offered her the little black box in the palm of his hand, his
eyes questioning.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Marry me?" he asked softly,
hopefully, <i>vulnerably</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She stared wordlessly at the ring, her
thoughts racing a mile a minute through her mind. <i>Marriage</i>? Was this
something she wanted? Sure, they had talked about it, but only in passing,
nothing serious. So, <i>did she want to marry Edwin?</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She didn't know.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VI7k94ERhWfAYCeRRokMt5ApNhm1a3qW-jRVm42dB6KWAL5lzixT_KpziHxt-1mUwyxbYxyrMgIst4O36UiuFozTM2yM7NmQfDdtqwxuh3eYKdMsAqC594vpJOUjq8UwRZxi5QQyxO0/s1600/303.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VI7k94ERhWfAYCeRRokMt5ApNhm1a3qW-jRVm42dB6KWAL5lzixT_KpziHxt-1mUwyxbYxyrMgIst4O36UiuFozTM2yM7NmQfDdtqwxuh3eYKdMsAqC594vpJOUjq8UwRZxi5QQyxO0/s640/303.24.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Sure, she loved him (or at least, she <i>thought
</i>she did) and she enjoyed spending time with him, but <i>marriage</i>? Was
she truly ready for that?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Inadvertently, she wished the easy status
quo that had been between them could've remained. She didn't think she was
ready for this.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> ...Then again, wasn't that what their
entire relationship had been heading towards? The status quo between them had
been easy and comfortable, but it couldn't continue indefinitely. It had to end
sometime.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> ...And she <i>did </i>love him. Didn’t she?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She gave him a smile, ignoring the dread in
her heart at the thought of marriage, and nodded.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Sure," she agreed, the words
sounding to her like it came from somebody else. "I'll marry you."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLUe_krIOCTUWC1-NfUuwqKEqE1PTcwKExsuZCbaNjC410ggGewdJ3I15FPBHdDkEJPqNqMqYM5IxODFcEyHJFk-bX1s-RuX_c6GR6u7cy84N3gBt9_by2wjoMh7SbMEkWetIixtgXo0/s1600/303.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLUe_krIOCTUWC1-NfUuwqKEqE1PTcwKExsuZCbaNjC410ggGewdJ3I15FPBHdDkEJPqNqMqYM5IxODFcEyHJFk-bX1s-RuX_c6GR6u7cy84N3gBt9_by2wjoMh7SbMEkWetIixtgXo0/s640/303.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~...~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Needless to say, both Lyra's and Edwin's
mothers were ecstatic by the news. They both jumped into the wedding planning
process with eagerness, sometimes making decisions about the wedding that Lyra
herself definitely wouldn't have made. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> For some reason though, Lyra simply
couldn't find the enthusiasm to join the planning process, so she simply
allowed her mother and mother-to-be to make the agreements, only occasionally
leaving an opinion. She did <i>not </i>want purple and yellow flowers at her
wedding, no matter <i>how </i>pretty her mother thought it was.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8apxaWSVu_haMka_mO8ohl7cUNDojaYX5P6XXvXACV09OIxbGgqEw_kWMGeCCLed_4ivOYteqRbB_br-ikGyhWW43meMKuxvKmYrvm6_f2kFnOuem9b_GQ9-7uJiY8xFh2-FAo6LFFoI/s1600/303.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8apxaWSVu_haMka_mO8ohl7cUNDojaYX5P6XXvXACV09OIxbGgqEw_kWMGeCCLed_4ivOYteqRbB_br-ikGyhWW43meMKuxvKmYrvm6_f2kFnOuem9b_GQ9-7uJiY8xFh2-FAo6LFFoI/s640/303.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Far, far too soon, the day for the wedding
arrived. She stood in the antechamber of the wedding venue, waiting to go in.
Her two bridesmaids, Arienne and Lakisha, stood with her, making small talk
Lyra didn't listen to. For the first time in ages, Renard and Arienne were in
the same room without fighting, as Lyra had asked her brother to escort her in
and she had informed Arienne in no uncertain terms that she would <i>not </i>allow
them to fight at her wedding.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It did make the atmosphere slightly tense,
but Lyra wilfully ignored it. She had bigger things to worry about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERxYRM88iHWiG-HsKSLkOr-mn5M1j7rEdV7-uaycPn44Ktzd94reNebYYc2thKc_yKCXeeIY-pLjYJgK_dIMcdWSPlJ2vh8owyzC6DCbgt6BG-j-LWpfkfsXo54g2SxDG6NIgbqOiJ7w/s1600/303.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgERxYRM88iHWiG-HsKSLkOr-mn5M1j7rEdV7-uaycPn44Ktzd94reNebYYc2thKc_yKCXeeIY-pLjYJgK_dIMcdWSPlJ2vh8owyzC6DCbgt6BG-j-LWpfkfsXo54g2SxDG6NIgbqOiJ7w/s640/303.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She wasn't ready to get married. She had
thought she was, but she <i>wasn't</i>. Her life had become that exact same
pattern she had so lamented about back in school, and she <i>hated </i>it. Get
a job, get married, have children? Wake up, change the screaming toddlers'
diapers, go to work, go to sleep, repeat? She didn't <i>want </i>that. She couldn't
let that be her life, but that was exactly what her life was steadily becoming.
She felt imprisoned, chained to a future she didn't want.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She wasn't ready to do this. She didn't <i>want
</i>to do it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Renard cleared his throat, pulling her back
to reality. Arienne and Lakisha had already left the room, and Renard was
staring expectantly at her, clearly indicating that it was time to go in and <i>get
married</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She <i>couldn't</i> do it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAz_9KLTXe4BiH6ywBs8gsEbHmWNa73Kn5Dy7KagOvN6KapLsejRy9PUUdJCxQkMUzdrtdz_-_MbPM08RC1eOFMSq2kQwASpFC2HSlUknVnGoISmLIUkVk2X3nE_PuzxDYfvfnOJ5pJo/s1600/303.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAz_9KLTXe4BiH6ywBs8gsEbHmWNa73Kn5Dy7KagOvN6KapLsejRy9PUUdJCxQkMUzdrtdz_-_MbPM08RC1eOFMSq2kQwASpFC2HSlUknVnGoISmLIUkVk2X3nE_PuzxDYfvfnOJ5pJo/s640/303.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Renard..." she pleaded, silently
begging him to help her find a way out of this. He gave her only a single
glance before he pulled her into his arms, accurately guessing the reason for
her distress. She blinked back tears, afraid of smudging her makeup.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Oh, Lyra," Renard sighed
despairingly, soothingly rubbing her back. "Don't tell me you're getting
cold feet <i>now</i>?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "I can't do this, Renard," she
admitted, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I feel like I'm about
to make the biggest mistake of my life, and I can't. I <i>can</i>'t do it. I
can't marry him, Renard."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Then why are you?" he asked her,
one eyebrow slightly lifted with confusion.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Because...because I don't know,
okay?" she complained, her eyes burning. "I thought...I thought I
wanted this, I thought it was the right thing to do, and everybody was
expecting it - "</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "When exactly," Renard
interrupted her tirade, "did you start adhering to expectations?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicM4-X6IY4dW3GUDjnymbCScQF-aeQUBuHyAxElADiEW86B6faGV4LvIQssUp89CoxS1P10dYm9lInNoUqwPZBe_RTcR-qtN8aWgzGvs6Z2HoH3Ow7NFGAzOb41eAEmaglPBcUOG2WU0k/s1600/303.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicM4-X6IY4dW3GUDjnymbCScQF-aeQUBuHyAxElADiEW86B6faGV4LvIQssUp89CoxS1P10dYm9lInNoUqwPZBe_RTcR-qtN8aWgzGvs6Z2HoH3Ow7NFGAzOb41eAEmaglPBcUOG2WU0k/s640/303.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The question left her struck silent. When <i>had
</i>she? It was <i>expected </i>of a couple to get married after a certain
amount of time had passed. She was <i>expected </i>to say yes. It was <i>expected
</i>of her to lead that kind of life.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It had <i>never </i>been something she
wanted for herself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She felt giddy by the revelation, as if all
of the chains had been broken. She didn't <i>need </i>to get married. She was
still free to lead her life the way she wanted it to. It would devastate Edwin,
but she couldn't marry him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "You're right," she agreed,
smiling peacefully for the first time in what felt like <i>ages</i>. "When
<i>did </i>I?" She looked at him and without saying anything, she knew he
understood. He knew what her decision was, but she still confirmed it verbally.
"Please, tell Edwin I'm sorry." </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He smiled and gave her shoulders a squeeze
before he disappeared through the door, going to inform everyone that the
wedding was off.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5_Zi3NE492hTj56bUV_5PDfhJjPcVQ9t_PF_90Vd5Zlwv2ywhoTt-um7QEFMQ55iIAWVjXuMU7t0AGC-_LuXjwOm5uEGUM22b3Zqms-ekoZDQ396HqRhVH6jxOlvgi0KowkDWP7RYS0/s1600/303.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5_Zi3NE492hTj56bUV_5PDfhJjPcVQ9t_PF_90Vd5Zlwv2ywhoTt-um7QEFMQ55iIAWVjXuMU7t0AGC-_LuXjwOm5uEGUM22b3Zqms-ekoZDQ396HqRhVH6jxOlvgi0KowkDWP7RYS0/s640/303.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She smiled as she was left alone in the
antechamber, feeling relaxed and carefree for the first time in months. From
the next room she heard a sudden increase in noise as Renard informed the groom
of the news she found so wonderful.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It wasn't long before Renard returned,
Edwin accompanying him dejectedly. The look Edwin gave her was heart-breaking,
but Lyra stubbornly stuck to her decision, squaring her shoulders and looking
at him with determination in her eyes. She didn't even notice when Renard
slipped out of the room to give them some privacy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Tell me, Edwin," she asked,
breaking the air before he could ask why. "Do you think we would've been
happy together - truly happy?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He frowned slightly at the question, caught
off-guard by her interruption. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Of course we can be," he argued,
his voice laden with confusion. "Why on earth would you think
otherwise?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVv1P1i2vIMGl31mEcYosInOr5mWrtcJQEkofBTfQqZIHOFaFG4RCC93bDLJ72KGWsrnj1gVLvAvONYEW8lbaiib52CtsTV9ASMYrS_rK0pry-8ZLGjV9AI912JBBcLKVCxz7aU2XT9Ro/s1600/303.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVv1P1i2vIMGl31mEcYosInOr5mWrtcJQEkofBTfQqZIHOFaFG4RCC93bDLJ72KGWsrnj1gVLvAvONYEW8lbaiib52CtsTV9ASMYrS_rK0pry-8ZLGjV9AI912JBBcLKVCxz7aU2XT9Ro/s640/303.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The question made her smile. He didn't get
it. He'd never get it. It only served to reinforce her decision. The person he
wanted to marry, to spend the rest of his life with...it wasn't Lyra. It never
had been her. He'd only loved her as an idea.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "I see," she replied with a
small, carefree smile. "Because I don't, Edwin, and the fact that you
don't get it means we never will." She turned on her heel to go home, but
he grabbed her wrist, preventing her from completing the movement.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Just what the hell do you mean with
that?" he asked her with a scowl. "<i>Talk </i>to me, Lyra. What is
it that I don't get? Why do you say we'll never be happy together? Look, I
understand if you don't want to marry me, but will you at <i>least </i>give me
a reason <i>why</i>?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Because," Lyra replied gently,
quietly removing his hand from her wrist, "what I want from life and what
you want from life are two entirely different things. I'm not the right woman
for you, Edwin. I'll never be happy with you, and I'll never be able to make
you happy either, and I don't want either of us to have that kind of
life."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd93JChItau820aCE55gv8JkVpsTAzCgoJSGeaSnbddG-IEr5fiMcH_0qyMZVpPDjcb8KAfaeQ5qkl8sfUWURkc3sgJkC2G_qBTcrqJtF0yo5qJzmyaC4q3f2p69HCeKpdBL13IdcfuVg/s1600/303.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd93JChItau820aCE55gv8JkVpsTAzCgoJSGeaSnbddG-IEr5fiMcH_0qyMZVpPDjcb8KAfaeQ5qkl8sfUWURkc3sgJkC2G_qBTcrqJtF0yo5qJzmyaC4q3f2p69HCeKpdBL13IdcfuVg/s640/303.32.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He still didn't get it. His eyes were heavy
with confusion, and there was no sign of comprehension anywhere on his face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "I don't understand," he
complained. "I mean, we've been happy so far, haven't we?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "So far," she agreed without
hesitation, "but it's not going to last. The time we spent together was
wonderful and amazing, but it's not going to stay that way. Eventually things
will change, and all it will result in is that one of us is going to get
chained into a life we won't be happy with. I know you want the typical Sunset
Valley life, with a gaggle of children one day gathering around your feet and a
loving wife to welcome you home each day with dinner waiting on the table, but
that wife will not be me. I don't want that life, Edwin, I don't. Not now, not
in ten years' time, not in a <i>hundred </i>years' time. <i>Never</i>. And the
fact that I don't want it and <i>you do</i>, means that we'll never be happy.
You need someone who wants to have the same kind of life you want, and I'll
never be that woman, Edwin. I cannot be that woman."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGHJVEyPOvEIjWmRuvtEvewAoUPZQLcZ4fRyqs-RCE9qcN__LoTyCFm2DCp5bmoT1cjNiU72NQxfSsR4d6j4z-orliNP7Wpt6qHu3CVIQuZYXf5mhIjrR4ewpAoGThC26bt8ji3gcJuo/s1600/303.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGHJVEyPOvEIjWmRuvtEvewAoUPZQLcZ4fRyqs-RCE9qcN__LoTyCFm2DCp5bmoT1cjNiU72NQxfSsR4d6j4z-orliNP7Wpt6qHu3CVIQuZYXf5mhIjrR4ewpAoGThC26bt8ji3gcJuo/s640/303.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The emotions flickering through his eyes
made her feel like a dog. It was clear that he didn't agree with her. Hurt and
anger and confusion were the most predominant ones, and it was almost enough to
make her take everything back, but she remained firm. She refused to ruin
either his or her life. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "I'm sorry, Edwin," she
apologized, her eyes beseeching him to understand, "but it's not going to
work. This status quo has to end. And I truly hope that you'll find someone who
will make you happy, but that someone is not me."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Then why," he asked with a
broken voice when he realised she had finished talking, "did you say yes
in the first place?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was a simple answer, but once again it
was one she knew he wouldn't understand the true significance of.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "Because it was expected of me,"
she answered simply. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWadpptcjtr2o2OsorDvzRAJZngXgaX_bJCYAUG4peM2Y867efRQjDHLwSl3xh4qHVbALYXqFk4D6wcMzViDjNFuwzDqfFGuBXEXaxhLT5PIFhws2ZInn01AQK5dnC_lH2kdWjAIIKTy4/s1600/303.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWadpptcjtr2o2OsorDvzRAJZngXgaX_bJCYAUG4peM2Y867efRQjDHLwSl3xh4qHVbALYXqFk4D6wcMzViDjNFuwzDqfFGuBXEXaxhLT5PIFhws2ZInn01AQK5dnC_lH2kdWjAIIKTy4/s640/303.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She turned around again to leave, and this
time Edwin did nothing to stop her. Walking away from him hurt a lot more than
she had thought it would, but Lyra didn't falter. As much as it hurt, she knew
it was the right thing to do. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She only hoped that one day, he might
understand, and maybe even forgive her, if only just a little. </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~...~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra sat on her bed, silently watching the
familiar eerie light from the Full Moon streaming through her windows.
Tomorrow, she knew, the town would be awash with the news that she had left
Edwin at the altar, but tonight, she didn't care. She had made her decision.
Tomorrow, she'll leave Sunset Valley and go look for a different life in a
different town. She had lived in this stagnant town one day too many.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCe6lv76-vUibekUk_bqwp2lpecYqQj5nDfL_0bQUlGhnD9-LS-PSfCvUheOOP5Ye1AGvG7Dyd0302iv2336hBieNo6_oi3SFmDJ1gRmJNeXTCCRpoFWciIrY9nVR76GJpJQ42Yq2xme4/s1600/303.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCe6lv76-vUibekUk_bqwp2lpecYqQj5nDfL_0bQUlGhnD9-LS-PSfCvUheOOP5Ye1AGvG7Dyd0302iv2336hBieNo6_oi3SFmDJ1gRmJNeXTCCRpoFWciIrY9nVR76GJpJQ42Yq2xme4/s640/303.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> To her relief, no one in her family had
begrudged her her decision. Her mother had simply hugged her and told her that
she'd support her no matter what happened, and while Arienne had made a snide
remark or two about the failed wedding, she too had admitted that she couldn't
really see Lyra happy in Sunset Valley. It was an immense relief, having her
family's support. She was finally feeling that the broken bonds in her family
were slowly being repaired. Seeing both Renard and Arienne standing in the
living room at the same time <i>without fighting </i>had definitely left her
with a feeling of hope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pcvbSEzhqLbluYeCijWGhgrS1TjPLNxySz5KHHUgWABTp0YiHqufHv2ulHPRFae9lCKJZDtTKaJpCYwUcDJ2aH7luVO6A214yfP39LpDtbK1joGDTFhpcVGfsod7bCO2zAjqXIwmE2k/s1600/303.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pcvbSEzhqLbluYeCijWGhgrS1TjPLNxySz5KHHUgWABTp0YiHqufHv2ulHPRFae9lCKJZDtTKaJpCYwUcDJ2aH7luVO6A214yfP39LpDtbK1joGDTFhpcVGfsod7bCO2zAjqXIwmE2k/s640/303.36.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was the right choice, she knew. She'd
miss Sunset Valley, but she'd never be happy if she stayed.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The sound of soft music intruded into her
thoughts, making her frown slightly. It was very late in the night (or very
early in the morning, depending on how one looked at it), and she knew her
mother was already asleep, so she shouldn't be hearing music. She was pretty
sure the stereo in the living room had been turned off when her mother had gone
to sleep.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Curious, she got up to investigate, not
even bothering to smooth out the creases from her clothes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The house was eerily quiet as she made her
way downstairs, and for some reason the house seemed even more desolate than
ever. She almost wished for someone, anyone, to appear, only so the house would
feel a bit more lived in. But it was a futile wish, and the house remained
quiet. Not even Charlotte appeared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o0iocikWRLNmG6-0A1RJnaVNBv9AtK58IrAlFrA9LXKYtaLHpy9qPVWg89di3NbnXca3ZrJpuOAGPHs8ch_hw1_lN4JSVX1jJ12EIFC4WIC_QFJvWVeQ-c36Xc8ZtKsCQiRpVgOyTLw/s1600/303.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o0iocikWRLNmG6-0A1RJnaVNBv9AtK58IrAlFrA9LXKYtaLHpy9qPVWg89di3NbnXca3ZrJpuOAGPHs8ch_hw1_lN4JSVX1jJ12EIFC4WIC_QFJvWVeQ-c36Xc8ZtKsCQiRpVgOyTLw/s640/303.37.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Downstairs, the stereo was off, like she
had expected, but she could <i>still </i>hear music. It was definitely coming
from the direction of the lake beside their house. Someone was singing into the
night, with a voice that reminded Lyra of silver notes and a gentle autumn
breeze. She went outside, trying to figure out <i>who </i>was singing.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was Charlotte. Why had she never
realised what a beautiful voice the ghost had? She didn't understand the words
the ghost was singing, but she was singing with such emotion that it brought
tears to Lyra's eyes. She walked closer to the ghost, illogically desiring to
comfort her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The sound of her steps must have alerted
the ghost, as the song was suddenly cut off abruptly. Charlotte turned around
startledly, her colourless eyes wide with surprise.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> "No!" the ghost exclaimed.
"Don't come -"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmnA2BTzhWfQ9pm7EG1PTeiF8b_Lf2hTkBx3ZcE_4qIndb95cl6rXnRiHx0QFCWIHVtguFGDLoeZe64WIuMA-CGjKdbQL7UkR1U5EaaE8bs7dlELbXEsFmUW-fY0QW19ITtDiCgporPw/s1600/303.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmnA2BTzhWfQ9pm7EG1PTeiF8b_Lf2hTkBx3ZcE_4qIndb95cl6rXnRiHx0QFCWIHVtguFGDLoeZe64WIuMA-CGjKdbQL7UkR1U5EaaE8bs7dlELbXEsFmUW-fY0QW19ITtDiCgporPw/s640/303.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her words were silenced in the explosion of
light that suddenly enveloped them. Before she could do anything, tendrils of <i>something
</i>wrapped around Lyra and jerked her off her feet. She cried out in alarm and
clenched her eyes shut against the bright light, wondering just <i>what the
hell was going on</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She fell hard on the ground, the impact
jarring the air from her lungs. Beside her, she heard someone breathing hard,
trying to get back air in their lungs as well. She opened her eyes cautiously,
ready to close them in case the bright light was still present, but the sight
that greeted her caused her to shoot upright, staring at her surroundings in
bewilderment.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She was <i>not </i>at the lake beside her
house. In fact, she was pretty sure there was <i>nowhere </i>in Sunset Valley
that looked like the scene in front of her. Even the <i>moon </i>looked
different.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMPSjl_HG9DNBNZvvLps6TCBMEIVMo_0hPAzRXt6E6cKmDbY-0y_PLxKCEkoV3XNSijnG49ETIsooF5wANCyFCtAGMiu3EkXl_YyHJ4FVSnfe0fFm-5z6erTWszBPPxsWOToBGT_oal8/s1600/303.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMPSjl_HG9DNBNZvvLps6TCBMEIVMo_0hPAzRXt6E6cKmDbY-0y_PLxKCEkoV3XNSijnG49ETIsooF5wANCyFCtAGMiu3EkXl_YyHJ4FVSnfe0fFm-5z6erTWszBPPxsWOToBGT_oal8/s640/303.39.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> ...What exactly had just happened? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> And <i>where the hell was she?!</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~...~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">A/N:<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> This chapter was written before my save file
went corrupt (I just didn’t have the shots yet), so don’t be surprised if some discrepancies
appear in the future, or if I fail to mention something again. I deleted both
Renard and Arienne’s spouses in the poser save, so…they’re not married anymore.
I want to bring the two of them along to the new world, but I don’t really know
how to justify it in the story. :/</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">
</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Edwin deserves someone better than Lyra :(.
For the longest I debated whether I wanted them to end up together or not, but
in the end my original idea won out instead. I feel bad for Edwin and I like
them as a couple, but Lyra has bigger things waiting for her, so they can't be
together. At least, not in this save. I think I'm going to pop the two of them
into my play-for-fun legacy save to give them a chance to be together.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And as to why that conversation had to
happen at their wedding and not earlier…well, I wanted to see Lyra in a wedding
dress. >_<</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Oh yeah, the world I used in the last shot
is a really beautiful custom world called Howell Island. I found it…on a site
that’s apparently dead now. :/ It’s not the world I’m going to be moving my
family to; it’s just a tad bit too small for that. I’m just going to use it
until I’m done with the upcoming arc. Then it’s onwards to…hmm. I haven’t
really decided yet. Probably Dragon Valley, although Aurora Skies and Hidden
Springs are also good candidates…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-79945164095554712772015-10-30T12:38:00.000+02:002015-10-30T12:38:06.724+02:00Chapter 3.02 - Dare To Dream<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b>Warning: language, as usual.</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra stared out of the window, her thoughts
far away from the newspaper hanging limply from her fingers. In the distance,
the roar of the waterfall thundering into the lake beside their house echoed
across the mountains, playing the overly familiar tune Lyra had long learned
how to push to the back of her mind. She had never been able to hear the Song
her mother often went on about, but sometimes, when the roar of the waterfall
intruded into her thoughts, she thought she could faintly hear notes.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj9bZeaSkv2YyOUJX6r79A4Ga3gKi-FpzIv0jNPxU3_zoZJbiO-wKTdFRG9yfYtdOyumF_85hX_gLMdPukqkDRfMnzXEpqxSVqjsJETT434AqN-kqKA3YqYBoZJEXpKdMkGtHvAT5mb8/s1600/302.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitj9bZeaSkv2YyOUJX6r79A4Ga3gKi-FpzIv0jNPxU3_zoZJbiO-wKTdFRG9yfYtdOyumF_85hX_gLMdPukqkDRfMnzXEpqxSVqjsJETT434AqN-kqKA3YqYBoZJEXpKdMkGtHvAT5mb8/s640/302.01.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Magic, her mother had called it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> Bullshit</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, she called it. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, trying
to convince her of how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wonderful </i>the
town is, filled with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wonder </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">magic </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stagnant fucking traditions</i>. She scowled fiercely and vehemently
tossed the newspaper across the room, angered by the lack of prospects for a
wholesome future.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGA7IgFteZ4QfcPYwePPqFPONuGwtd_e493DD03fMAxN1DlrFXHaVcLenjs_tUFsynb6oD-UyavRULlcB2ycLoHRg03vBDCbAP0lRrwQJrCoEPuDesnxTBX8haLiHK44nD_8n_QRFXuGU/s1600/302.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGA7IgFteZ4QfcPYwePPqFPONuGwtd_e493DD03fMAxN1DlrFXHaVcLenjs_tUFsynb6oD-UyavRULlcB2ycLoHRg03vBDCbAP0lRrwQJrCoEPuDesnxTBX8haLiHK44nD_8n_QRFXuGU/s640/302.02.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to get a job in this godforsaken town. She could already see
how her life was going to turn out should she take one of the openings
advertised in the newspaper, and it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not
good</i>. Get a job, get married, have children? Wake up, change the screaming
toddlers’ diapers, take them to school, go to the same boring job 40 hours a
week, go to sleep, repeat?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She’d go <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mad </i>if that had to be her life.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR9oEsbMtTKm-EGk6O27kIeXqxL78EhW5ssajtReuO0x4f_TKDdQJwq33cicaXQRiZ0k_wfsloUeUAjMBoXPe0V4AONyNu1zc6_EY9VkcjdMRrYfRmETQT5Cetri3_ppGAaijz4_8rCw/s1600/302.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBR9oEsbMtTKm-EGk6O27kIeXqxL78EhW5ssajtReuO0x4f_TKDdQJwq33cicaXQRiZ0k_wfsloUeUAjMBoXPe0V4AONyNu1zc6_EY9VkcjdMRrYfRmETQT5Cetri3_ppGAaijz4_8rCw/s640/302.03.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The ringtone of her phone suddenly
reverberated through the air, jerking Lyra back to reality. She glanced down at
the caller ID and felt her stomach make a weird little flip at the name.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> Edwin.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She still didn’t know how she felt about
him. She hadn’t contacted him yet after that not-entirely-horrible date, but
she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had </i>thought about him – a lot.
Her thoughts kept returning to him at inopportune moments. It confused the hell
out of her.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcXszbFW_k0qeR-jU1ulV43VqF8uE_4kS6zp6f_RW3QJR0gQcCF7N74tvdGvcOqy5kiQa64X4RWM9ZBFb5hmGt1s6QOMTIdyYIwaVRoiXNy6xo7aeTrZJx5IKnTLRHRvviZfF2hFL-2k/s1600/302.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcXszbFW_k0qeR-jU1ulV43VqF8uE_4kS6zp6f_RW3QJR0gQcCF7N74tvdGvcOqy5kiQa64X4RWM9ZBFb5hmGt1s6QOMTIdyYIwaVRoiXNy6xo7aeTrZJx5IKnTLRHRvviZfF2hFL-2k/s640/302.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She stared idly at her phone, listening to
it ring. It was with slight hesitation that she finally picked it up, her
stomach giving that same strange little flip it did every time she thought of
him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Hi,” she answered nonchalantly. She really
hoped he wasn’t calling about that promised second date. She wasn’t sure if she
was ready to see him just yet.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTA4SK0d83zYoTIuOsjqIFnoU8SLr_VbqUlmDfO6gam-RgWKnHRcwUOMAv5GEE9Y76NH1fF5wSTIP5SrZS6RmiwlKSv4bSkQH98_edw4dUiKQDP67oJeh77oFYzwH_yGd81JFGCFXozE/s1600/302.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTA4SK0d83zYoTIuOsjqIFnoU8SLr_VbqUlmDfO6gam-RgWKnHRcwUOMAv5GEE9Y76NH1fF5wSTIP5SrZS6RmiwlKSv4bSkQH98_edw4dUiKQDP67oJeh77oFYzwH_yGd81JFGCFXozE/s640/302.05.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey,” </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">his voice
came easily across the phone. She could almost hear the smile in his voice,
causing her stomach to give that weird little flip again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Listen, are you busy today? A couple of my friends invited me to go
windsurfing with them, and I’ve been wondering if you wanted to come along?
It’s just for fun, nothing serious about it.” </i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She tilted her head, thinking about his
offer. Windsurfing? That actually sounded like fun. She’d never done it before,
but…well, wasn’t it about time she tried new stuff? And sure, she hadn’t
exactly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>to see him so soon,
but it wasn’t like it was going to be a date, was it? It was just fun, between
friends.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Besides, she was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bored</i>. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Sure, why not?” she agreed in the spur of
the moment, relaxing into the conversation. “It could be fun. How many people
are going?”</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_tC1ogGEqK_vj_5DFDbXXI2AHgLNgoUdSw3LxyLZU76PyK4byC0VQEgqfrIogdXlGWDEyC-z0r-i8iAT3JoZ9uC8wA63Xw0WeaMHCE_jLCSxW3lELfSUzg6IegHx4tCIDPkdMc-0vJw/s1600/302.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_tC1ogGEqK_vj_5DFDbXXI2AHgLNgoUdSw3LxyLZU76PyK4byC0VQEgqfrIogdXlGWDEyC-z0r-i8iAT3JoZ9uC8wA63Xw0WeaMHCE_jLCSxW3lELfSUzg6IegHx4tCIDPkdMc-0vJw/s640/302.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just a couple,” </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">he
replied. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“We’ll probably be…four, or five
people, max. Like I said, it’s just for fun.”</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> An hour later, Lyra met with Edwin and his
friends at the beach. They were all people she knew vaguely from school. Sure,
she didn’t know them that well, having chosen to ignore pretty much all of her
classmates, but at least she was acquainted with them. She even vaguely remembered
socializing with them at that party Edwin had thrown the last day of school.
Vaguely. The juice had definitely influenced her memories of that night.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iPp4P_X5zi9SIgfsSiIuAKgYr-zoa8qqTROb9lkG7bgDy_umn4zop71u7vqWYLKe6stt9kF7E6u8EFLwVVAQb6f1hwx3-rURYNimsGQTlSyxfiHFeCC1WX9S_POoqpAmYZSwoIdQLHA/s1600/302.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iPp4P_X5zi9SIgfsSiIuAKgYr-zoa8qqTROb9lkG7bgDy_umn4zop71u7vqWYLKe6stt9kF7E6u8EFLwVVAQb6f1hwx3-rURYNimsGQTlSyxfiHFeCC1WX9S_POoqpAmYZSwoIdQLHA/s640/302.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right-o,”
Lakisha declared, signalling the start of their planned activities. “Let’s do
this. So, Lyla, ya know how this works?” She pointed at the windsurfing board
with a manicured finger, an easy smile on her face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra blinked, slightly taken aback by the
name the other girl had called her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Not really, no,” she answered uncertainly.
“And my name’s Lyra, not Lyla.”</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY2JiSsHtwJT-bJmGjr9ElhxPkAwVIe-AdXQfTTJLqLiFZORdvpyKPDYIpL4EZ7DodHsOTlCoQc4Xby2ccIeQu5IOzX5kXB2aX5Gu7YyZqNT5T-xCiFtOjLasOloNofjCeSoNrNkh8xI/s1600/302.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY2JiSsHtwJT-bJmGjr9ElhxPkAwVIe-AdXQfTTJLqLiFZORdvpyKPDYIpL4EZ7DodHsOTlCoQc4Xby2ccIeQu5IOzX5kXB2aX5Gu7YyZqNT5T-xCiFtOjLasOloNofjCeSoNrNkh8xI/s640/302.08.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “It’s
a nickname. Deal with it,” Lakisha declared with an unconcerned shrug,
completely unfazed by the correction. “Luckily for ya, Edwin is quite a deft
hand at this, so he’ll be showing ya the ropes. Enjoy.” She bestowed the two of
them with a lazy smile before she grabbed the other two guys by the hand and
dragged them over to the boat trailer, presumably to help her get the boat and jet
skis off the trailer and into the water, leaving Lyra and Edwin to stand
awkwardly beside each other.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Sorry about that,” Edwin apologized with
an awkward chuckle. “Lakish is…well, she’s quite unique. But she’s a great
friend, nevertheless.” He picked the windsurfing board up and walked towards
the water, looking at Lyra over his shoulder and gesturing at her in clear
invitation to join him.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiaxCjBYZPf-pjbJogJaDxQOZ6ZOewq25JRoxASJh-GTmFE-MB1AuBmZwG5bcgW8JEO0zCeRXmHTEmXZ0tq6KnVrxllMVEv0HrAcNzLOcjBb-Vij4qL54baV1bXsaj38Ue0D_nfuW-WI/s1600/302.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiaxCjBYZPf-pjbJogJaDxQOZ6ZOewq25JRoxASJh-GTmFE-MB1AuBmZwG5bcgW8JEO0zCeRXmHTEmXZ0tq6KnVrxllMVEv0HrAcNzLOcjBb-Vij4qL54baV1bXsaj38Ue0D_nfuW-WI/s640/302.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He spent a couple of minutes to explain to
her the basics of windsurfing. He was standing behind her in the water, lightly
holding her waist to help her keep her balance while he explained it to her.
She was acutely aware of his touch, her skin tingling warmly where his hands
met her skin. The sensation caused her to swallow heavily. She’d be lying if
she said she didn’t like it. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> Plumbob</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, he confused her. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “So,
are you ready to try?” he asked her when he finished his explanation, smiling
reassuringly at her. She nodded wordlessly, still flustered by the confusing
feelings in her chest.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He gave a step back to provide her with
some space to attempt the activity, his fingers trailing off her waist.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61J_Zxg6vZNWJ9Y6Z8dbDVdRrIeVDduP0bSgHbZqqBGgNoSj7nUlves3UnXFlI0PmNY7DRNntIYADKAtBArHCTpWjIXS8N0P-9oh9Sfn0IsiqoEzrZDmPRkjO_tIjhyphenhyphenBPABX4HTGUerQ/s1600/302.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61J_Zxg6vZNWJ9Y6Z8dbDVdRrIeVDduP0bSgHbZqqBGgNoSj7nUlves3UnXFlI0PmNY7DRNntIYADKAtBArHCTpWjIXS8N0P-9oh9Sfn0IsiqoEzrZDmPRkjO_tIjhyphenhyphenBPABX4HTGUerQ/s640/302.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her skin lamented the loss of his touch. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She swiftly supressed the feeling, trying
to turn her focus wholeheartedly to the board she was standing on. Cautiously,
she turned the sail like he had showed her, allowing it to capture the wind and
drive her forward.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3CxkoeXlXs4fXqD5csvhM2xA5Ee_0Ymr5yZkI0YGs0YLZJomODj1Z-S8oSEwgk3ByBrwi_9k61zLhdC4qBSjbuzcDYFm3DoEmbpZ4uIwoL6MaknRIvG54mEgKjMzAyK7rMCVAkSVYpE/s1600/302.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3CxkoeXlXs4fXqD5csvhM2xA5Ee_0Ymr5yZkI0YGs0YLZJomODj1Z-S8oSEwgk3ByBrwi_9k61zLhdC4qBSjbuzcDYFm3DoEmbpZ4uIwoL6MaknRIvG54mEgKjMzAyK7rMCVAkSVYpE/s640/302.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The sail did its job admirably,
effortlessly catching the wind. Her heart leapt into her throat at the
unfamiliar movement and she momentarily lost her balance, causing the board to
wobble slightly, but she automatically corrected her stance and it righted
itself again. The wind parted around her as she propelled forwards, drenching
her with water droplets and causing her hair to stream behind her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was the most amazing thing she had ever
experienced.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhyphenhyphenk0DC-hJSGWqOy9wayooDgpF5Hdpf4eIvZiyGFxG9X8nPGKPPU91SrLyosBk6ci4rGlwrneuJPDzenHzI4my-YY8gOX9fRgmNhnKpzfTTbru0e1JvTe4NUWMq5bghTdhZds9Nv2yJ8/s1600/302.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhyphenhyphenk0DC-hJSGWqOy9wayooDgpF5Hdpf4eIvZiyGFxG9X8nPGKPPU91SrLyosBk6ci4rGlwrneuJPDzenHzI4my-YY8gOX9fRgmNhnKpzfTTbru0e1JvTe4NUWMq5bghTdhZds9Nv2yJ8/s640/302.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She couldn’t prevent the delighted laugh
from escaping her lips. All of her worries disappeared like mist before the
sun, leaving her focused only on the now and here. It was incredibly
liberating. For the first time in her life, she felt truly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alive</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She was vaguely aware of Edwin pulling
beside her with a jet ski, effortlessly keeping up with her. There were no
words exchanged between them, but none were needed. The only things that
mattered were the wind, the water and the joy they both shared in that moment.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PQghXegLbww8t0sjqoWkBGj5TutUdDplKIyPAZ7SUaGgBBNtMnfOP2LxBH63rOyUpk28C8GCEMX6R6evBw_o3aD2p_PMc00lS47iWkYtmYOWE-H8U_BvBeAVXanp9f7jxxy4u1F5rPA/s1600/302.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PQghXegLbww8t0sjqoWkBGj5TutUdDplKIyPAZ7SUaGgBBNtMnfOP2LxBH63rOyUpk28C8GCEMX6R6evBw_o3aD2p_PMc00lS47iWkYtmYOWE-H8U_BvBeAVXanp9f7jxxy4u1F5rPA/s640/302.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The rest of the day passed in a blur of
excitement. As it turned out, the planned activities for the day included more
than just windsurfing. They also shared turns on the jet skis, challenging each
other with races…</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEt2TtMCoWH8Rhrx4SIbyNlg1VUBXqTMmlMAh_tE3_XroyxCIsJG8u7zCj8MZhgog8jEECfSTRi8dLtbWdfKF59we8vIlbXjQRgZBRiSNNrFh8NaCm0NctK1xtQimPDbyLuPc0-Zm242c/s1600/302.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEt2TtMCoWH8Rhrx4SIbyNlg1VUBXqTMmlMAh_tE3_XroyxCIsJG8u7zCj8MZhgog8jEECfSTRi8dLtbWdfKF59we8vIlbXjQRgZBRiSNNrFh8NaCm0NctK1xtQimPDbyLuPc0-Zm242c/s640/302.14.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">…and when the wind became a little too still
for windsurfing, they finally started the motorboat and went waterskiing.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2CSi8G_0fCZEKeUVVY0ADQcwD8z7LsNlbvgNLP2BDx399_WhtG5kcgzgT4LOLzNjtA5IkIsmDXmllaZyUTSer-y8UB_ZNpmeXHKFblu6X7N2LT4ih0JyeKegQyg6-AgIBzjXwP-mcoo/s1600/302.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2CSi8G_0fCZEKeUVVY0ADQcwD8z7LsNlbvgNLP2BDx399_WhtG5kcgzgT4LOLzNjtA5IkIsmDXmllaZyUTSer-y8UB_ZNpmeXHKFblu6X7N2LT4ih0JyeKegQyg6-AgIBzjXwP-mcoo/s640/302.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was twilight by the time they finally
got out of the water, the first stars already appearing in the vast expanse of
the night sky. Lyra was drenched from head to toes and the slight evening
breeze bit into her skin, but there was a large smile on her face and she was
content in a way she couldn’t ever remember being.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lakisha and Robby fiddled around with the
firepit, trying to get the fire started. Lyra was too far away from them to
hear anything they said, but she could see the easy banter they engaged in. Shawn
helped carry the firewood to the pit, interjecting every now and then with a
comment of his own. They were completely relaxed around each other.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI7qApOq1o6w7nyDCzdictWEyqNXEA06ue17XzHHBL3t7lUD6ZTPRwYPktO9dZZpA6rhcW2fM2_OXza1uqvYgMRANSklqKL7ES1Wu4mLoRd5Cfb53SGYH5o-ilIOrW6COrBl3X5GMQig/s1600/302.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI7qApOq1o6w7nyDCzdictWEyqNXEA06ue17XzHHBL3t7lUD6ZTPRwYPktO9dZZpA6rhcW2fM2_OXza1uqvYgMRANSklqKL7ES1Wu4mLoRd5Cfb53SGYH5o-ilIOrW6COrBl3X5GMQig/s640/302.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra suddenly felt like a stranger looking
in onto a scene she didn’t belong in. This was an already established group of
friends. She had no business inserting herself in that group. She didn’t belong
with them.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Warm arms then slid around her, breaking
her out of her melancholic thoughts. She could smell Edwin’s familiar scent
around her, and her skin once again tingled where his skin met hers. Her hands
automatically went up to his arm, holding onto him.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGS_7J44aaOuP-mmh7iU6WRXNyVUr1zT3xaa-RPfEMBjjdTo3F-FqxC_aJKliLW5v0QWuBHJ-tRN_cRfrGQZNxH3-fJyKlxUtxCVmLLp1w-PXhTMMBo957rhpAv-YQyE0qWbFr-Ls3wI/s1600/302.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGS_7J44aaOuP-mmh7iU6WRXNyVUr1zT3xaa-RPfEMBjjdTo3F-FqxC_aJKliLW5v0QWuBHJ-tRN_cRfrGQZNxH3-fJyKlxUtxCVmLLp1w-PXhTMMBo957rhpAv-YQyE0qWbFr-Ls3wI/s640/302.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plumbob</i>, you’re beautiful,” Edwin
murmured into her ear. It should’ve bothered her that he was so close,
especially after she’d told him to give her space and time, but it didn’t.
Instead, it sent delighted shivers down her spine.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She suddenly felt extremely hot.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She gave him a tight smile and shrugged off
his arms, setting off towards the firepit.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXEpWZgPxojgHCEYhO9h2NvPj3dSQTbGT6vJrEXcCDfEHGTqVPbZiHmJB42NGrpfKzAVjsV3ByQPdr1RIcleMaaSk4BDRV3DsJGtuwTd4kXQCqtnurAfOIGy3O00y7wsfrEwci1T-LyM/s1600/302.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXEpWZgPxojgHCEYhO9h2NvPj3dSQTbGT6vJrEXcCDfEHGTqVPbZiHmJB42NGrpfKzAVjsV3ByQPdr1RIcleMaaSk4BDRV3DsJGtuwTd4kXQCqtnurAfOIGy3O00y7wsfrEwci1T-LyM/s640/302.18.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She heard him groan and from the corner of
her eye, she noticed him throw his head backwards, his eyes beseeching the
heavens for help. But he followed behind her, and when they reached the firepit
he sat beside her, close enough that she was acutely aware of his presence, but
not so close that he was intruding in her space.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She had to give him points for tenacity.
She was loath to admit it, but he was slowly getting the upper hand in this
dance they were performing around each other.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAEDtuPdG893XZCO6cWpGk-vj_M7rehQvPgXIA1B-4OmuqISTL7yOjJhpvMmB8JxYdnriSi8-6xk3oVdE7l9uhFNQhgBgb7l70aMCV6VAtgnlgTeOqbE1IUhyphenhyphenl0a5oFJ_aXPBJWYpjHA/s1600/302.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAEDtuPdG893XZCO6cWpGk-vj_M7rehQvPgXIA1B-4OmuqISTL7yOjJhpvMmB8JxYdnriSi8-6xk3oVdE7l9uhFNQhgBgb7l70aMCV6VAtgnlgTeOqbE1IUhyphenhyphenl0a5oFJ_aXPBJWYpjHA/s640/302.19.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So,
Lyla, ya enjoy the day?” Lakisha drawled, effortlessly drawing Lyra into the
conversation. Lyra pulled her thoughts away from the man confusing her so much,
focusing instead on the conversation and the other people surrounding her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> They socialized until late in the night,
long after the moon had risen, accompanied only by the sound of the waves
breaking on the shore and the crackling of the fire shooting sparks into the
sky. Any unease Lyra might’ve had over fitting in with the group disappeared
easily. They were easy-going people, and Lyra couldn’t help but relax with
them.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIm3TWukJulNDQT_kGB1OhO17mgFIRxA86EgUG447luXnL33SC0U8Ku7vAw-J648mEOXUdXHPRtcyXCKA6Cv44S9QXypkr33pK57f5tt29gNHIXShujOQ289WtxbjP6iRbaRh2vLX-K0/s1600/302.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIm3TWukJulNDQT_kGB1OhO17mgFIRxA86EgUG447luXnL33SC0U8Ku7vAw-J648mEOXUdXHPRtcyXCKA6Cv44S9QXypkr33pK57f5tt29gNHIXShujOQ289WtxbjP6iRbaRh2vLX-K0/s640/302.20.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> At one stage during the night, once the
wood had burned out and the fire had almost been reduced to smouldering embers,
the group had started to segregate into smaller groups. Edwin and Shawn were
discussing a recent football game, completely absorbed in their conversation.
Lakisha and Robby had slipped into a private conversation, stealing little
touches and kisses every now and then, making it more than clear to Lyra that
they were, in fact, dating. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She slipped away from the group, feeling a
bit neglected and slightly self-conscious by the display. Things were starting
to reach the point where she would need to make a decision about Edwin.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kxEF8LAQku-3YiICofQAwucE4X4V7g5Z-pkds_GnxwRTN4TNld3ce0BOjm67PgY0jaI9Ui3FGUCqwkfA5yAfCQDSPeMqPog1YEou1UDWPjgwiVdPTWuFSa7SZK8BsU6NQIP0gdJdD9A/s1600/302.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kxEF8LAQku-3YiICofQAwucE4X4V7g5Z-pkds_GnxwRTN4TNld3ce0BOjm67PgY0jaI9Ui3FGUCqwkfA5yAfCQDSPeMqPog1YEou1UDWPjgwiVdPTWuFSa7SZK8BsU6NQIP0gdJdD9A/s640/302.21.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She could no longer deny it. She had
completely and utterly lost the game. She wanted more of his touches. She
wanted more of his kisses. She wanted him to embrace her and send more of that
delightful shivers down her spine. She wanted to touch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him </i>without feeling guilty about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Footsteps crunched on the sand behind her,
and a familiar scent drifted to her nose. She looked over her shoulder at him,
unsurprised by his presence.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uPozKrdFWpxL_yzzvkh_kXsf7ij3b5TU9L1XhQaP8j_viAWIFuBn5q4HnTPuWBbBY3nr0Lrz2ncZ0ZHRKKjN5rbaq7J-Oai3AWeDq2ML2eUFYz0wCcmvt6BbTlFjBfvka7XHIuGQogs/s1600/302.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uPozKrdFWpxL_yzzvkh_kXsf7ij3b5TU9L1XhQaP8j_viAWIFuBn5q4HnTPuWBbBY3nr0Lrz2ncZ0ZHRKKjN5rbaq7J-Oai3AWeDq2ML2eUFYz0wCcmvt6BbTlFjBfvka7XHIuGQogs/s640/302.22.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Edwin,”
she acknowledged him and turned her eyes away, unwilling to make eye contact
with him. She knew her eyes were like an open book at the moment, displaying
her thoughts for all to see. She’d never been very good at hiding her emotions.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He strolled up next to her in silence, his thumbs
tucked into the waistband of his trousers as he stared up at the stars
twinkling above them. For some time the only noise between them was the sound
of the waves breaking right in front of them, the water occasionally lapping at
Lyra’s toes. Again, she was hyper-aware of his presence.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yYCL9dPI9ELDJ2b628yBZ1kkZE-5tkFS4OIFSx1aYJjuGuwJVcGmiAyH912Z8GFBHxdNVjLs_a05oNX9J0lHWDiIfAvO0kr184qNi3UwBN5wG5ylsVIZOdLBeOexodVeqZStZ5keJVc/s1600/302.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yYCL9dPI9ELDJ2b628yBZ1kkZE-5tkFS4OIFSx1aYJjuGuwJVcGmiAyH912Z8GFBHxdNVjLs_a05oNX9J0lHWDiIfAvO0kr184qNi3UwBN5wG5ylsVIZOdLBeOexodVeqZStZ5keJVc/s640/302.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You
were kinda quiet back there,” Edwin stated, his voice breaking the silence
between them. “Something bothering you?” He voice held a hint of concern.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Something in her resolve broke.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stand
there and act like nothing had changed between them. She was falling head over
heels for him and she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">couldn’t </i>understand
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i>. She couldn’t understand his
motivations <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “What is it you want from me, Edwin?” she
asked vulnerably. “What is it that you wish to accomplish by…asking me out on
dates, or…” She shook her head, unable to complete the sentence. She finally
looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “What do you want from me?”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXLFa6mZTdqonv_z8XIjmJz02Ismoe8iwSi7SXuHky_uonBYJi_WdGJJPeNu-HOhosxp9dedM-n1PdwxCd8AUmtRpJjYZh5hMLGQIerzyeYJa9LfurfOo8l0TGaFcA482xZFIToHq8vQ/s1600/302.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXLFa6mZTdqonv_z8XIjmJz02Ismoe8iwSi7SXuHky_uonBYJi_WdGJJPeNu-HOhosxp9dedM-n1PdwxCd8AUmtRpJjYZh5hMLGQIerzyeYJa9LfurfOo8l0TGaFcA482xZFIToHq8vQ/s640/302.24.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He didn’t reply. He kept staring at the
stars, deep in thought. When he did finally reply, several minutes later, the
response wasn’t something Lyra had expected to hear.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Why is it so hard for you to understand
that I like you, Lyra?” he asked her. “I like the person you are. I enjoy spending
time with you. And you’re so incredibly beautiful that I can’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">help</i> but want<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>to touch you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “You still didn’t answer my question,” she
pointed out in return. “What is it that you want from me?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He groaned with frustration, letting his
head drop to his chest before he finally turned to her.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglm69VzxhRKREoMv14sQzqjG6rkLW2SftuosTEQ7LMr50v7kzujiyAG8AtxQRb3PDXtoyM78jZ8Lldg1v8AOgLun3VeD8RruIQ-KC_rW2q_zmVGjiaCtXiwyOUqVAYPqpI5DeIb9I7ro8/s1600/302.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglm69VzxhRKREoMv14sQzqjG6rkLW2SftuosTEQ7LMr50v7kzujiyAG8AtxQRb3PDXtoyM78jZ8Lldg1v8AOgLun3VeD8RruIQ-KC_rW2q_zmVGjiaCtXiwyOUqVAYPqpI5DeIb9I7ro8/s640/302.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fine,”
he caved with a surrendering sigh. “I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I
want to take you into my arms and feel your skin against mine. I want you to
look at me with that fire burning in your eyes. I want to be able to show you
to the world and tell everyone that you’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mine</i>.
Simply put, I want you to be my girl.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She couldn’t help it. She threw her head
backwards and her laughter rang through the skies. How freakin’ ironic, that he
was able to echo her thoughts so much. All those things he wanted to do…she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted </i>him to do it. How freakin,
utterly ironic.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1vFuL6kw6ZrmnjevtXxCE1Rr8Nc9l_j6ZKBp4A_UDnx_YOR9k1DKCrlkcQdJmnL3yZI54RpPwiw7EXlSYV6w1N4zwzxFmg7kBiZDnmmsyzbO6y6dVCi83BNC8vepDleege8vasF6pgU/s1600/302.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1vFuL6kw6ZrmnjevtXxCE1Rr8Nc9l_j6ZKBp4A_UDnx_YOR9k1DKCrlkcQdJmnL3yZI54RpPwiw7EXlSYV6w1N4zwzxFmg7kBiZDnmmsyzbO6y6dVCi83BNC8vepDleege8vasF6pgU/s640/302.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Her fingers itched. She wanted to touch
him; feel that tingle in her fingertips. She wanted him to look at her with
those mesmerizing, fun-loving green eyes of his. She wanted him to look at her
and know that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>was the reason for
the expression in his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She gave in to the impulse. Her hands went
to his face in a soft caress, her fingers gently touching his cheeks. His
breath hitched at her touch, and he reflexively slipped his hands around her
waist, sending her nerves tingling again.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “You win, Edwin,” she breathed softly,
staring into his eyes with a carefree smile. “You win. I’ll be your girlfriend,
if that’s what you want from me.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYFjFr4KaIU4ukTUKRDc_MozIzGKmeZ3WhwSNVzH2H0iLky7mXS8fmpkEpCY7V0uhRMKmCOVq7ugbUwo1PxvWG1CldOz_RjlTLkrH1xYCXakGKSNHa6AslIOWtFUTdhF799_43-W9eDM/s1600/302.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYFjFr4KaIU4ukTUKRDc_MozIzGKmeZ3WhwSNVzH2H0iLky7mXS8fmpkEpCY7V0uhRMKmCOVq7ugbUwo1PxvWG1CldOz_RjlTLkrH1xYCXakGKSNHa6AslIOWtFUTdhF799_43-W9eDM/s640/302.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> His eyes lit up with joy and a broad smile
appeared on his face. “Are you sure?” he breathed just as softly, his eyes
hopeful.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra nodded, a wry smile on her face. It
was way too late to turn back now. Her hands slipped from his face, one going
to his chest and the other to his nestle in his hair. She closed her eyes, and
they met each other halfway.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIRs8cJk6pSnN0CrVwLUEXSXcJHmhWf1lqPWq2u0wwnqqrtCc9TKSb9prxeFmyDGzkoe5oRtLcT1Yvdni_N9nLvE6Dr5q_xUuNawsRvy9CWac2zZD4bUuJWSOljHpMRzGCrJKQQ7_FbA/s1600/302.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIRs8cJk6pSnN0CrVwLUEXSXcJHmhWf1lqPWq2u0wwnqqrtCc9TKSb9prxeFmyDGzkoe5oRtLcT1Yvdni_N9nLvE6Dr5q_xUuNawsRvy9CWac2zZD4bUuJWSOljHpMRzGCrJKQQ7_FbA/s640/302.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> When she opened her eyes again, the stars
seemed so much brighter, and her future suddenly didn’t seem quite so bleak any
more.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She both hated and loved Sunset Valley.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoeRe0wCyzXEUjCVHf6ZA3fKwS8Xm8y3_InZwdUsAMV43mC9OsdwTJIzW4CP1_fdmUrGEDLuxVCSvxRYj-h58RFtJ5PdzMXxpyVxVteN9ORJAI-6h8eWqzHQdsecbytiqnhBX6U4GaN0/s1600/302.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoeRe0wCyzXEUjCVHf6ZA3fKwS8Xm8y3_InZwdUsAMV43mC9OsdwTJIzW4CP1_fdmUrGEDLuxVCSvxRYj-h58RFtJ5PdzMXxpyVxVteN9ORJAI-6h8eWqzHQdsecbytiqnhBX6U4GaN0/s640/302.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was a stagnant hell to live in, filled
with stereotypes and ‘traditions’ and expectations that she could honestly not
see herself fulfilling. She hated the way everyone in the town seemed to live
the same kind of life, the way nothing new ever happened, and the way the
entire community had been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">happy </i>to
settle into such a boring, everyday life. From the day a person was born,
everybody already knew how that person would turn out, and what kind of life he
or she would lead.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> That wasn’t the kind of life Lyra wanted to
have.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMu1MBYhUdeu7BuSVac7fdhtOqnheFqBNCG9WHay1YN3BpAe9ijlGrqg1bCHCRDy1uhOMhxSSjcCooSaRpmhZ3EO7snL3URixzOuxp4cbWWOKbf5qDN8-51uCigOnfEerPoEn5qhNlIs/s1600/302.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMu1MBYhUdeu7BuSVac7fdhtOqnheFqBNCG9WHay1YN3BpAe9ijlGrqg1bCHCRDy1uhOMhxSSjcCooSaRpmhZ3EO7snL3URixzOuxp4cbWWOKbf5qDN8-51uCigOnfEerPoEn5qhNlIs/s640/302.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She idly played with the camera in her
hands, absently making changes to the shutter speed and the aperture, her mind
automatically searching for the optimal settings to capture the image in front
of her. The camera had been a gift from her dad, back when she had first
started with high school and expressed an interest in photography. It had been
a short-lived hobby and for a long time she had ignored the camera, leaving it
to gather dust in her closet. After her dad had died, she had come across it
again, and suddenly it became one of her most precious belongings. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Because it had been a gift from her dad.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtz2bm8tIbjMEAKIj3fyekLV9hF4wB_HFgIhSx0lSyQa0ke5kMiSnkvZTLQo9XlCtrChAGb6SOZGqmaGvx2nAZFkIVCu7Wt8xGRv6LQG4Ynr0rglaN-kyIAk7fYqz1iT82bnvFwSO8Ckc/s1600/302.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtz2bm8tIbjMEAKIj3fyekLV9hF4wB_HFgIhSx0lSyQa0ke5kMiSnkvZTLQo9XlCtrChAGb6SOZGqmaGvx2nAZFkIVCu7Wt8xGRv6LQG4Ynr0rglaN-kyIAk7fYqz1iT82bnvFwSO8Ckc/s640/302.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that
</i>was the reason a part of her still loved Sunset Valley. For all of its
faults, it was still the town she had grown up in. It was still the town she
had created memories in; memories of happier times when her dad was still alive
and her siblings still on speaking terms.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She hated Sunset Valley, and she wanted
nothing more than to leave, but for some reason she always felt like she would
be betraying those memories if she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>leave.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She pressed the trigger and the shutter
snapped close, immortalising the scene in front of her exactly as she had
envisioned it.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlpcw4d5ephTqalZgKtNX_q27WP9NUhtEAtt576lylo_VFTdW60A9w7-B6_fS_PO4cHOUIkFpX7QTswNUelUn3Ih54KlivSHRxNuxdtgXepB6YXdwPx6gQCQaRpZnhxJTyBunCMS7B_I/s1600/302.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlpcw4d5ephTqalZgKtNX_q27WP9NUhtEAtt576lylo_VFTdW60A9w7-B6_fS_PO4cHOUIkFpX7QTswNUelUn3Ih54KlivSHRxNuxdtgXepB6YXdwPx6gQCQaRpZnhxJTyBunCMS7B_I/s640/302.32.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh!
Is that a Hikon QX40di Gladiator?” a voice asked from beside her. She looked up
startledly, making eye contact with the woman looking eagerly at her. She had
been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t even noticed being approached.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She scowled slightly, somewhat irritated by
getting her thoughts interrupted by this stranger.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “What of it?” she asked tersely. She had
come here for some peace and quiet, not to strike up conversations with
strangers.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowHKmsbAQtYAWj6pZcT7AqRsmqPFO1cHJqEixb1IdrGa77fqfnMoXhyphenhyphencvQ7to8Vjgidgu1nje8VmHoM14SDuu0Co6-J1ImpCzf0Q1LnCmHMydSTUpB2zdRNKJxdN1MhJ3Jd9FebOPljo/s1600/302.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowHKmsbAQtYAWj6pZcT7AqRsmqPFO1cHJqEixb1IdrGa77fqfnMoXhyphenhyphencvQ7to8Vjgidgu1nje8VmHoM14SDuu0Co6-J1ImpCzf0Q1LnCmHMydSTUpB2zdRNKJxdN1MhJ3Jd9FebOPljo/s640/302.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Unfortunately, her rude behaviour did
nothing to deter the woman.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “I have the model that was released just
before that one,” she announced and took a stance beside Lyra. “I’ve never been
terribly great at it, but photography is such an interesting art, isn’t it?”
She seemed to remember something and lightly tapped herself on her head. “Oh,
how rude of me. My name is Bianca, Bianca Schuler.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She looked expectantly at Lyra, clearly
waiting for her to introduce herself.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgeCb39iUd6UqpErqlehJs2DdYUdTqs8u4uGSKIFv3RKe6qRRsilH8u_5tc-L6r7VednskDvkYa0YCbw2MmhJgqoNjIT53J8G_NatqVTYvZKp1rA0sU0YO3U-sck_hu7tPYhJ7O-Q31c/s1600/302.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgeCb39iUd6UqpErqlehJs2DdYUdTqs8u4uGSKIFv3RKe6qRRsilH8u_5tc-L6r7VednskDvkYa0YCbw2MmhJgqoNjIT53J8G_NatqVTYvZKp1rA0sU0YO3U-sck_hu7tPYhJ7O-Q31c/s640/302.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra begrudgingly obeyed the unspoken
request. “Lyra Marquel,” she introduced herself. Before she could enquire what Bianca
wanted, the other woman plunged headlong into conversation, chattering about
photography and different techniques and flashes and the influence of light on
photos and tripods and polarized lenses, and despite herself, Lyra couldn’t
help but get pulled into the conversation. It was the first time she had ever
met someone who shared her hobby.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeHlqKfirq5wj4_YEJO06B3tsMGYaIszs9MJlgYcdiiPrM0oTv5AKRi1MobPmr5ZY4xFlbwXCTDVmL6mVTglsWRU-zvumQ7wtuqcs6lndVdQau5P36xMB6fcihiYwy-YhXm7ncKGgoa4/s1600/302.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeHlqKfirq5wj4_YEJO06B3tsMGYaIszs9MJlgYcdiiPrM0oTv5AKRi1MobPmr5ZY4xFlbwXCTDVmL6mVTglsWRU-zvumQ7wtuqcs6lndVdQau5P36xMB6fcihiYwy-YhXm7ncKGgoa4/s640/302.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She even showed Bianca some of the photos
she had captured. The other woman stared at the photos with awe, apparently
amazed by them.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Oh wow,” she breathed and gave Lyra a wry
grin. “I could never hope to capture anything of this quality. These are
amazing.” She paused on a candid shot Lyra had taken of Edwin, her eyes
drinking in the details. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when she
turned her eyes back to Lyra she looked quite determined.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “I’m getting married next weekend,” she
announced, nervously playing with her hands. “I know this is wrong of me to
ask, since I’ve only met you and all that, but please, will you be my
photographer? I couldn’t find one I liked before and your work is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>amazing.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGFyWLc4NRRsFF5QVnfdpkh3MxZOI3p2Js8cAIZV5FXhTtk13v7xoHDzL95PTuzvWpidLXNl31O2sUsHQKNaStWUb-wXeUihJysypc1D4QdGWfjHb4NGNnLyyhEBMV5Z0FdZZGojF78c/s1600/302.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGFyWLc4NRRsFF5QVnfdpkh3MxZOI3p2Js8cAIZV5FXhTtk13v7xoHDzL95PTuzvWpidLXNl31O2sUsHQKNaStWUb-wXeUihJysypc1D4QdGWfjHb4NGNnLyyhEBMV5Z0FdZZGojF78c/s640/302.36.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra reeled back in surprise, caught
completely off-guard by the request. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her,
</i>a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">photographer</i>? Photography was
something she did for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i>. She
definitely wasn’t a professional at it. Heck, she didn’t even have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">half </i>the equipment professionals did. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Bianca seemed to read the hesitation in
Lyra’s eyes because she suddenly grabbed Lyra’s hands, staring pleadingly into
her eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Please,” she pleaded earnestly. “Please.
You’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>talented. I’ll pay you
and everything.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPLHoB8XHUHkGJ2pjyrXlYsE8_6lENK-CCbS5E_LIk_A1MafK4YwfFmzhD4r2_mdiiPXUXklsb7hUPa2GeXSoluwgsQULBNb9bzwnUFieVcO21HEqwFm9e7QApkGj5YteqAY4eORczMU/s1600/302.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPLHoB8XHUHkGJ2pjyrXlYsE8_6lENK-CCbS5E_LIk_A1MafK4YwfFmzhD4r2_mdiiPXUXklsb7hUPa2GeXSoluwgsQULBNb9bzwnUFieVcO21HEqwFm9e7QApkGj5YteqAY4eORczMU/s640/302.37.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m
not so sure that’s a good idea,” Lyra tried to protest. “I’m not a
professional. It’s just something I do for fun.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Again, her protests did nothing to deter
Bianca.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “With your skill and talent you can easily
go professional,” Bianca declared enthusiastically. “Please? All it’ll take is
an afternoon of your time, and I’ll pay you generously.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> There was that word again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pay. </i>Which meant, money. She didn’t
exactly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> money, as her dad had
left her a massive inheritance, but…</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> …but she’d be able to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">register </i>as a photographer and hopefully then her mother will stop
hounding her to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get a job.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnYVMXGNZror3kWBdKJMoUL0BMW6Miq50ewhuq03bfXLuZQkb4t8gD2RNEA78nos5CkmzDKntoIaR8XP20AiokAS_TLfpuOH0dgAESiA1HnqjxtnYFlSPStYSTKT3G-UphmdtCqCpRQs/s1600/302.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnYVMXGNZror3kWBdKJMoUL0BMW6Miq50ewhuq03bfXLuZQkb4t8gD2RNEA78nos5CkmzDKntoIaR8XP20AiokAS_TLfpuOH0dgAESiA1HnqjxtnYFlSPStYSTKT3G-UphmdtCqCpRQs/s640/302.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Fine,” she agreed, “but I won’t be held
liable if the photos turn out to be horrible.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Oh, I’m sure they won’t,” Bianca declared
with conviction, happy that she’d finally been able to convince Lyra.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Like Bianca had predicted, the photos
turned out to be beautiful. Several of her friends had expressed interest in
Lyra’s work as well, and before long Lyra had started to make name for herself
as a professional photographer by word of mouth. To be honest, she kind of
enjoyed it. She enjoyed the fact that her workhours were random, and far
between. It left her with more than enough time to pursue her own life. Best of
all though, it finally got her mother off her back about getting a job. Her
lack of a job had caused more than one argument between her and her mother.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She often found herself back at the sea,
perfecting the new hobby Edwin had introduced her to.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJDiNBe9S1ZkJBHOztl6RbpjGF1r6EjSS7yXlXOASOHZD4CoctyBXZ226WHQh3PJxwoOp_KnREw5KBr7-8Iw8WSayJTURERKM1yAwZJgnBU9inIzfzUOm9kMCS5bh3jlD6BRGwtg-mrQ/s1600/302.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJDiNBe9S1ZkJBHOztl6RbpjGF1r6EjSS7yXlXOASOHZD4CoctyBXZ226WHQh3PJxwoOp_KnREw5KBr7-8Iw8WSayJTURERKM1yAwZJgnBU9inIzfzUOm9kMCS5bh3jlD6BRGwtg-mrQ/s640/302.39.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> There was just something freeing about
spending the day amongst the waves and the wind. Edwin occasionally joined her,
especially on weekends, but most of the time Lyra was on her own. Edwin had
managed to land a job at the Landgraab Science Facility, so the time he had
available to spend on his own hobbies had been drastically reduced. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> To be honest, Lyra didn’t mind all that
much. She enjoyed spending time with him, but she actually preferred going
windsurfing on her own. She normally used the time to clear her mind and sort
out her thoughts.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She still hated Sunset Valley, but she no
longer detested it so completely.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1ptzMX9Z68LjZ0C_E72nts8BKEqOu2hPYNdKVYVEWiAuiC1ftLbF61ui4guUMbcEuw6SVi7CYgqyCOUVFl99DGvPv-Tt24mRijl3oxkWsK8yX0GHN9b9vm2qeJTFRrSwvZIXkA4_2Sg/s1600/302.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1ptzMX9Z68LjZ0C_E72nts8BKEqOu2hPYNdKVYVEWiAuiC1ftLbF61ui4guUMbcEuw6SVi7CYgqyCOUVFl99DGvPv-Tt24mRijl3oxkWsK8yX0GHN9b9vm2qeJTFRrSwvZIXkA4_2Sg/s640/302.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> If there was something Edwin had taught
her, it was that Sunset Valley had a hidden sense of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">life</i> she had never noticed before. Yes, the town was stuck in their
ways, always following the same old pattern, but at the same time the town
was…exciting. It was only now that she had started to socialise with people –
made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">friends</i> – that she realised that
the secret to…well, she wouldn’t exactly call it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">happiness</i>, but tolerance maybe worked just as well, lied in the
people living in the town. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> They were the ones who made things
exciting. It was something she had never realised before.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlqhyphenhyphenLGgsbSzdHhTGyUOMAj8PsVQmKqo9TW1eBx6B5yPMeOc8q1Lhqg-G3l2AawehG2SXm-9qwj1cvoCtHWZv1SKMyfGWmI-lVk1UEN_eHaT8YaQyJO7SBNVo7eSgle2SXixzI4Yj3iw/s1600/302.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlqhyphenhyphenLGgsbSzdHhTGyUOMAj8PsVQmKqo9TW1eBx6B5yPMeOc8q1Lhqg-G3l2AawehG2SXm-9qwj1cvoCtHWZv1SKMyfGWmI-lVk1UEN_eHaT8YaQyJO7SBNVo7eSgle2SXixzI4Yj3iw/s640/302.41.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Night had already fallen by the time she
finally returned home, the stars twinkling far above her in the warm spring
air. The lights were on, but unlike in her childhood, they were no longer that
same warm, comforting invitation. If she had to liken it to something, she’d
have to choose the stars: distant, and oh so far away.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> When, exactly, had it become such a chore
to return home?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbvplQ2yJTp4zVPoaaB0276YBStWRGV4301N386PYyadOlz3TJGAn6vbYbhxqcMW7p9A6myhGCHvMSv3OiTSO1rMEfBLxkgtLEYuO3OlJAXJS6kdy2CRQgpJDBQMUBhO5XXV2ht12GiU/s1600/302.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbvplQ2yJTp4zVPoaaB0276YBStWRGV4301N386PYyadOlz3TJGAn6vbYbhxqcMW7p9A6myhGCHvMSv3OiTSO1rMEfBLxkgtLEYuO3OlJAXJS6kdy2CRQgpJDBQMUBhO5XXV2ht12GiU/s640/302.42.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The door was locked when she tried to
handle. It meant her mother was out working. It meant that she’d be alone in
the silent house, with only ghosts to keep her company – both the ghosts of her
past, as well as the one remaining literal ghost named Charlotte.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> It was too much. She simply wasn’t up to
spending who knew how long in a house that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shouldn’t
be silent</i>. Her hand dropped to her side, keys dangling limply in her
fingers.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She didn’t want to be alone tonight.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWbS57tgnraUib97AmhjGSZdiQKU-Tw93Dt8LdSPI7SsvMC-TxRY5tzQN1fxuXVIoxbzqS7F0LU5JUO8ZoYESx7tii1kzVGmt4ul5wtLdiuzc0pwAfDpTfAU1Y-nlXV1slkup0ycvghc/s1600/302.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWbS57tgnraUib97AmhjGSZdiQKU-Tw93Dt8LdSPI7SsvMC-TxRY5tzQN1fxuXVIoxbzqS7F0LU5JUO8ZoYESx7tii1kzVGmt4ul5wtLdiuzc0pwAfDpTfAU1Y-nlXV1slkup0ycvghc/s640/302.43.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> She stared at the house in front of her,
uncertain whether she should ring the bell or not. It wasn’t the first time
she’d been to Edwin’s house, the one he moved into when he moved out of his
parents’ house, but it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>the first
time she kind of invited herself. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d be
welcome or not. Heck, she hadn’t even called to let him know she was coming.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> But her need to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not be alone</i> drove her to action. She pressed the button and the
shrill scream of the bell rang through the air and more importantly, through
the house, loudly announcing her presence.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsdwqMbyKSCdBhJmJamlPifBxyYbvyk_P30XlEezySTW759Y6HVqN3gKjZEcYCK6QP4agJprJILSYHXftLSoBX-kMYW9WNlajQHug6RxdWoWMAYscWfpH0pcKl-BKSoDG6mJXHblRh8M/s1600/302.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsdwqMbyKSCdBhJmJamlPifBxyYbvyk_P30XlEezySTW759Y6HVqN3gKjZEcYCK6QP4agJprJILSYHXftLSoBX-kMYW9WNlajQHug6RxdWoWMAYscWfpH0pcKl-BKSoDG6mJXHblRh8M/s640/302.44.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just come in, the door’s open,” </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Edwin’s voice responded from inside the house. Lyra only hesitated a
second before she opened the door and walked in. The scene that greeted her was
a far cry from the one in her own house, but for some reason she found it
infinitely better. Probably because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>
house wasn’t empty.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Edwin laid on his couch, his eyes fixed on
the football game playing on the TV. A bottle of beer was held loosely in his
hand. He lifted his hand in greeting, his eyes still fixed on the game.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Money’s on the counter, tip included,” he
announced, causing Lyra to blink in confusion. “Just leave the pizza there.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCVrH4odbd4xr-el8GaqCthSeTq2bruc_jxmnVFEIFsvOj1N4QOO319DaT-YrklEWKD9llnAdMjARw2d-h51KySgvh_k0pXeUfQSjDd0KiWmIt2SSgSsZVhQRCK8Wx2Cvhjokd7bLVGw/s1600/302.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCVrH4odbd4xr-el8GaqCthSeTq2bruc_jxmnVFEIFsvOj1N4QOO319DaT-YrklEWKD9llnAdMjARw2d-h51KySgvh_k0pXeUfQSjDd0KiWmIt2SSgSsZVhQRCK8Wx2Cvhjokd7bLVGw/s640/302.45.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Uhm, I’m not the pizza guy,” Lyra replied.
The effect her words had on Edwin was instantaneous. He jumped off the couch,
moving faster than Lyra had ever seen him move before. It was almost admirable
how he didn’t allow even a single drop to spill out of the bottle he was
holding.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Lyra. I hadn’t expected to see you,” he
addressed her nervously, the tips of his ears tinged with red. She couldn’t
help the slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “I’m not bothering, am I?” she asked
hesitantly. He immediately waved her question away.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “No, no, of course not,” he immediately
denied. “I just hadn’t expected you, that’s all. You’re always welcome here.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8kyC-A8U5KHWIRuwkNWZ3A6q93pnr2GeeUGBpLr89KXW-w2HQn_UmreytbnR8mIMxZouYfdWoioGZz7AaNXAX1tObMP7Ek4k7TNr_2491Hkbbz8wdPRek9Gh4yO-s660YnXIv3KNkTc/s1600/302.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8kyC-A8U5KHWIRuwkNWZ3A6q93pnr2GeeUGBpLr89KXW-w2HQn_UmreytbnR8mIMxZouYfdWoioGZz7AaNXAX1tObMP7Ek4k7TNr_2491Hkbbz8wdPRek9Gh4yO-s660YnXIv3KNkTc/s640/302.46.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> He placed his beer on the coffee table and
moved towards her, drawing her into a hug. She gladly reciprocated, warmed by
his presence. In the background, the guy on the TV announced a goal scored in
the game Edwin had been watching before Lyra had interrupted him. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> The scene was such a far cry from the one
that had greeted Lyra at her own house, but she could confidently say that she
preferred this one. She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated </i>returning
to an empty home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2odqJa7F3tDG43PTAqPCDVJKew-x_fMFVx1M2b9TY8k4t4PfFpXFTiorc3mEF1vzxJJSozOUrWVuyovDOEBWar4fkmaG9R74BnFwhqCdjyt4pMKigOPSbJq6xJRdduWt3BOo1WYj_gQ/s1600/302.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2odqJa7F3tDG43PTAqPCDVJKew-x_fMFVx1M2b9TY8k4t4PfFpXFTiorc3mEF1vzxJJSozOUrWVuyovDOEBWar4fkmaG9R74BnFwhqCdjyt4pMKigOPSbJq6xJRdduWt3BOo1WYj_gQ/s640/302.47.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is
something wrong?” Edwin asked her concernedly when she didn’t break from the
hug for several seconds. She drew away with a slight smile on her face, her
mood already drastically improved.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Nothing is wrong,” she assured him. “I
just…don’t want to be alone tonight. My mom’s out working and…and the house is
a bit silent.” There was no way she could explain the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">emptiness </i>that somehow filled her house, and the weakness that had
driven her to seek solace somewhere else. That explanation would have to do.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay,”
Edwin assured her. “I know this place doesn’t look at its best, and I’m afraid
dinner is only pizza, but please, stay. I don’t mind at all. We can…uhm, watch
a movie, or…”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Lyra smiled and gave him a kiss, comforted
by his words.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVJQWJ4HziiMqWRhX4kUu6tP7X5OAlehStjuxExYbMWb9rVz84du53IotTh-2NuJWUtfX_X6_HlEDZAaR-VqxcVY-PowAVf66PMwu_LGLgaaP0MWcFIQtegMg8c0HoxRhIc2aacp3TgE/s1600/302.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVJQWJ4HziiMqWRhX4kUu6tP7X5OAlehStjuxExYbMWb9rVz84du53IotTh-2NuJWUtfX_X6_HlEDZAaR-VqxcVY-PowAVf66PMwu_LGLgaaP0MWcFIQtegMg8c0HoxRhIc2aacp3TgE/s640/302.48.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pizza
and a movie sound wonderful,” she agreed, warmed to the bottom of her heart.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A/N: I’ve discovered the wonders of IP’s
water sports, so I apologize for the windsurfing spam. It’s just so pretty to
look at!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So, several roll reveals: Primary Career is
Freelance Photographer and Generation Goal is Idle Career. The Misc. Fun is
Runs In The Family, but because there is still some confusion regarding which
generation that roll actually applies to, I decided to just let it apply to
both generations. Lyra and her siblings all shared the Virtuoso trait with
Chantia, and one of Lyra’s traits will be passed on to the next generation. I
still haven’t decided which one though.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-57357913565631578612015-08-31T16:32:00.000+02:002015-08-31T21:11:28.941+02:00Chapter 3.01 - Spitfire<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Warning: Generation 3 will contain bad
language, nudity, violence, gore etc. hence the mature content warning. I won’t
mention it again, so don’t be surprised when it appears. ;)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">GENERATION 3</span></span><u><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></span></h4>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Alright everyone, time is up. Put down
your pens.”</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DmoTNEybKyZQPYyk551pRxiN4Rth17jYNAcnMQfjO0UOrXN9TFFE6ONOE8PRcsDk0jAtIZNxSSrYG0pxgEe90X25AcPuND9C1WDi0rN_KUWHZFWFJSm7UWsZlZRhLU_jRTAwIFOH5hI/s1600/301.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DmoTNEybKyZQPYyk551pRxiN4Rth17jYNAcnMQfjO0UOrXN9TFFE6ONOE8PRcsDk0jAtIZNxSSrYG0pxgEe90X25AcPuND9C1WDi0rN_KUWHZFWFJSm7UWsZlZRhLU_jRTAwIFOH5hI/s640/301.01.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra sighed in relief, glad the exam was
over. It was over and done with; she was finally done with school. Of course,
she just needed to wait for the results of her exams before she could say it
for sure, but she knew she was going to ace all of her classes. Then she could
wash her hands off school completely. There was no way in hell she was going to
attend university. Of course, she had absolutely no idea just what<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>she was going to do, but she knew
university wasn’t going to be part of it. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">done </i>with school.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Around her, the exam papers were collected
and the hall burst into excited chatters. For once, Lyra wasn’t irritated by
it. She was done with school. She would no longer need to put up with
irritating people picking on her or assholes trying to make a move on her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMC7bVJOCWE3vYVbwiMJW6BMVKR1e4arqmLI2FBzXsR2M2EMSiwOgD9AmH3DQsicKJt8v9mrYnOqT1og5GCJJt-s1VSZVuHc9bxwwNHc7k4wc9H_U2brMm3jcsLdKDKVvDqZYZ3U9dSPA/s1600/301.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMC7bVJOCWE3vYVbwiMJW6BMVKR1e4arqmLI2FBzXsR2M2EMSiwOgD9AmH3DQsicKJt8v9mrYnOqT1og5GCJJt-s1VSZVuHc9bxwwNHc7k4wc9H_U2brMm3jcsLdKDKVvDqZYZ3U9dSPA/s640/301.02.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “Freedom
at last!” a familiar voice yelled out from right behind her. “Party tonight, at
my house! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everyone’s invited!</i>”</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra groaned. There went any hope she
might’ve had for a calm evening. The person who had announced the party was her
science lab partner, Edwin Fenrir. She just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew
</i>he was going to hound her until she agreed to attend the party. Sure
enough, he leaned on her table, looking at Lyra with excited eyes.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesnPVb9n23kiGqvWZvsthMwpXEPYo9Bh0qEmFjLLfqcOMIrE7Tl5SN1YzUcqvG84z3LL1oo6-2u5BxawyVv5iU5S5jrSi1gavIo6uTpngsj3nLfku0hDkeJpMDMKBLc_o11JBicc5alY/s1600/301.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesnPVb9n23kiGqvWZvsthMwpXEPYo9Bh0qEmFjLLfqcOMIrE7Tl5SN1YzUcqvG84z3LL1oo6-2u5BxawyVv5iU5S5jrSi1gavIo6uTpngsj3nLfku0hDkeJpMDMKBLc_o11JBicc5alY/s640/301.03.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “You’ll
come, won’t you, Spitfire?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Don’t call me that,” Lyra immediately
rebuked, scowling. Nobody had the right to use that name. It was the nickname
her dad had used to call her by – just like Arienne had been ‘Little Princess’,
she had been ‘Spitfire’. It just sounded <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wrong
</i>coming from Edwin.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Edwin replied,
waving the rebuke away. “So tonight, at six, my house. Don’t you dare say
you’re not coming.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra rolled her eyes in exasperation, but
didn’t refuse. It was easier to just agree now than delay the inevitable.
Besides, Edwin wasn’t that bad. She could manage to spend one evening with him
and his friends. It was better than spending the night alone at home, seeing as
her mother was going to be at work in anyway.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvrEBXPOvqESaXlALW8OUxNvqMywltcPpfo7tuSJGA7fJpkcRtYdBwGJrSTEMgePMrU3hENf0RaKbid8v6xjQuSyZ3mvzeWKWO3W0bQvnfsgST9m8RwcsyRIDyOF_LDtF_YqU6Zbn0RU/s1600/301.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvrEBXPOvqESaXlALW8OUxNvqMywltcPpfo7tuSJGA7fJpkcRtYdBwGJrSTEMgePMrU3hENf0RaKbid8v6xjQuSyZ3mvzeWKWO3W0bQvnfsgST9m8RwcsyRIDyOF_LDtF_YqU6Zbn0RU/s640/301.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Several hours later, Lyra had to concede
that it really wasn’t that bad. The music was good, the food was good, and the
drinks were flowing free. She wasn’t going to ask where Edwin had managed to
get a juice keg of all things, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. And if his
hands started roaming slightly…well, it was about time she started acting her
age a bit, wasn’t it?</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmgN4IC5E3kZw64ov7mjPYte0q6OQzk1y0kgJGzMtAhD5SVLiIJoCM1Ax5YlvNcp6xbAjVlzq7FzYSES2YpXWDCxRrv1JdlneXqeLpyvx5uM7cybb4xesbSNXmh_jH20PFUnELyQNe5g/s1600/301.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmgN4IC5E3kZw64ov7mjPYte0q6OQzk1y0kgJGzMtAhD5SVLiIJoCM1Ax5YlvNcp6xbAjVlzq7FzYSES2YpXWDCxRrv1JdlneXqeLpyvx5uM7cybb4xesbSNXmh_jH20PFUnELyQNe5g/s640/301.05.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> It felt good being in the centre of positive
attention for a change. Edwin still wasn’t really her friend, and she still
knew he only wanted to get in her pants, but tonight she didn’t care. She was
so goddamn tired of trying to fix the mess that was her life. It was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>turn to be the irresponsible one for
a change.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUDNrhhO81Vp6Zer0F93EPYzl5eh34qC588q0JEuVxlY_b9YSPeetWlaOvyHkbqOmMeVuKIU5i0qxSOCXbgwxtslB0CkohA1xlup8tRd_mXUtXdzNj-TzFMdcMi3af5msa6jcduNsQAw/s1600/301.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfUDNrhhO81Vp6Zer0F93EPYzl5eh34qC588q0JEuVxlY_b9YSPeetWlaOvyHkbqOmMeVuKIU5i0qxSOCXbgwxtslB0CkohA1xlup8tRd_mXUtXdzNj-TzFMdcMi3af5msa6jcduNsQAw/s640/301.06.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> And since Edwin happened to be quite good
at kissing…she wasn’t going to complain.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Her head was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">killing </i>her.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TdDx11n-iXFN6e0m0_DjOTJ1Aw5bacE5-_SMO21ZKjeAiZR2Q_C0uofkAtLRWrAOC_k4PXjJjYIpuyiaaiIE4fyrDYpsA3InEfrCG0DfnJbM6uRcri96WlhYOnSTpGPttm_wrpIqYi8/s1600/301.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TdDx11n-iXFN6e0m0_DjOTJ1Aw5bacE5-_SMO21ZKjeAiZR2Q_C0uofkAtLRWrAOC_k4PXjJjYIpuyiaaiIE4fyrDYpsA3InEfrCG0DfnJbM6uRcri96WlhYOnSTpGPttm_wrpIqYi8/s640/301.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra moaned and buried her head in the pillow,
trying to reduce the pain stabbing into her head and eyeballs. It didn’t help
much. She scowled and peeked out from the pillow, glaring at the sunlight
streaming through the windows. Who gave the sun permission to rise?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Beside her, another person stirred, wakened
by the sunlight. Judging from the way he too was groaning, he wasn’t feeling
much better than she was.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> It took several minutes for the clues to
connect in Lyra’s mind, causing the memories of last night’s events to stream
back into her mind. Her eyes flew open, causing hot pain to stab into her brain
and causing to her groan again.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cHkgf0c5ATULO7CTCCWfh8oWVE1u3qQg-KAUErQA9oIoG3QD82DNF3NAOR0vD_RmYxMHEHZ3igrfgY-oG9BjwRvJj6aekk8G26NLgWSX5Cs-JR7skKLtbghbzXE842DggnOkELQzLCY/s1600/301.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cHkgf0c5ATULO7CTCCWfh8oWVE1u3qQg-KAUErQA9oIoG3QD82DNF3NAOR0vD_RmYxMHEHZ3igrfgY-oG9BjwRvJj6aekk8G26NLgWSX5Cs-JR7skKLtbghbzXE842DggnOkELQzLCY/s640/301.08.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Stupid sun. Stupid juice. And stupid Edwin,
for forcing her to attend the stupid party. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>going to go near juice again. Her entire body was sore.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …Then again, that probably wasn’t the
juice, was it? If it had been she wouldn’t be lying on a bed. Naked. With <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Edwin</i>. Who was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also</i> naked. And she definitely wouldn’t have the memories of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i> they were both naked.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11-F32Pn025CZ7TT1bBVNoecEp0fiq_EU74EyR21BWoU4tga494ohhyphenhyphenMUXv0ntDDUYtO4NdoPbH3l-sb7Kh9UY3mPi0m9sd7wI1wZkgKf37Ls6FFSfF0T9-tKbMvU0IKlCe5x3-ZpZG4/s1600/301.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11-F32Pn025CZ7TT1bBVNoecEp0fiq_EU74EyR21BWoU4tga494ohhyphenhyphenMUXv0ntDDUYtO4NdoPbH3l-sb7Kh9UY3mPi0m9sd7wI1wZkgKf37Ls6FFSfF0T9-tKbMvU0IKlCe5x3-ZpZG4/s640/301.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Stupid, stupid, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid</i>. She had to get out of there before Edwin woke up
completely. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>ready to face
him.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Ugh, my head is killing me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …And of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">course</i>
she couldn’t be that lucky.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-gFFNMUQp4kUoNKgBY8cOSbkqudoy8iL8QZL-uO4FSChu8Mqvtpqd1OnCogdNfuWhsQzMDjcYsxY1fVrG-vhFllvD5bUV_BGu5jdbzMEMnCckpQii9ocN9brAwi7ZiwlLHU28C7uon8/s1600/301.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-gFFNMUQp4kUoNKgBY8cOSbkqudoy8iL8QZL-uO4FSChu8Mqvtpqd1OnCogdNfuWhsQzMDjcYsxY1fVrG-vhFllvD5bUV_BGu5jdbzMEMnCckpQii9ocN9brAwi7ZiwlLHU28C7uon8/s640/301.10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Edwin blinked blearily at her before a
goofy grin split his face, causing the scowl on Lyra’s face to deepen. He
clearly also remembered the events of last night. Or maybe he was just grinning
like a loon because she was still very much naked. She scowled and covered her
breasts with her arm, looking for her clothes. The quicker she got dressed and
out of there, the better.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Morning, Spitfire,” Edwin interrupted her
musings, still grinning like the idiot he was. The familiar nickname falling
from his lips caused Lyra to see red. She was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>going to allow him to defile that name.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX7fQAR9hLQlqG5PuM21wlXdy5JWt3OxgwmfF-ppDjUpwCDOwPC7KQWbQxGFtHMfNrvljmlaYu0FfBJrq3gg7zxhlgM7L5mZ0OBIfmpl2IqggLsc5mGMC8xdsdnULc8Jde5V87z-0MLc/s1600/301.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX7fQAR9hLQlqG5PuM21wlXdy5JWt3OxgwmfF-ppDjUpwCDOwPC7KQWbQxGFtHMfNrvljmlaYu0FfBJrq3gg7zxhlgM7L5mZ0OBIfmpl2IqggLsc5mGMC8xdsdnULc8Jde5V87z-0MLc/s640/301.11.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She grabbed the thing closest to her and
threw it at him with all her might. ‘It’ happened to be her phone, and it hit him
with force, bouncing off of his forehead before clattering to the floor,
leaving an angry red welt on his forehead.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t
call me that</i>,” she growled venomously, her eyes glaring daggers at him. He had
started swearing up a storm when the phone hit him, but she ignored him
completely, getting dressed instead. He was still swearing by the time she left
the room without a backwards glance. She didn’t even bother to retrieve her
phone. It wasn’t like she used the damn thing much in anyway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraF9odKjS0T2uW-emG7-Q-Z4clDfTZecZ2UShXlofngzUvntIOWJsrfpi9Kr20TkwkK_mn_JqOWJx2rQzwaDvPrAw0EekvAp76tqRdgkMJ7ER4ZRhlhcUmvfg0AJbZscFQQLmIRWjQrc/s1600/301.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraF9odKjS0T2uW-emG7-Q-Z4clDfTZecZ2UShXlofngzUvntIOWJsrfpi9Kr20TkwkK_mn_JqOWJx2rQzwaDvPrAw0EekvAp76tqRdgkMJ7ER4ZRhlhcUmvfg0AJbZscFQQLmIRWjQrc/s640/301.12.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> To her relief, her mother wasn’t home when
she arrived at their house. She had no desire to listen to her mom’s lectures
right now. She went straight to the shower, feeling dirty and defiled. Sure,
she had been more than willing last night, but now she just felt disgusted with
herself. She scrubbed herself as hard as she could, but she didn’t feel much
cleaner.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdi9Ltqv2sPUD4MERCE3rZIzEDmI1Gbqo70dUKHbSUgw-Ti1C3Er2hy6vjHpLCiEo9l6LVP67AZZQof5XbldnVubaj2o-NHKYlK0c__ssjTZrgC-IbG3zalMnPD39bgJ4rLkA7UMFvZBA/s1600/301.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdi9Ltqv2sPUD4MERCE3rZIzEDmI1Gbqo70dUKHbSUgw-Ti1C3Er2hy6vjHpLCiEo9l6LVP67AZZQof5XbldnVubaj2o-NHKYlK0c__ssjTZrgC-IbG3zalMnPD39bgJ4rLkA7UMFvZBA/s640/301.13.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gods</i>,
did they even use protection? She couldn’t remember. She remembered kissing and
groping and…and yeah, no protection. They had both been too juiced to even
think about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She groaned and rested her forehead against
the shower wall. She hated her life.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She really, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> hoped she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t ready for a child,
much less one that was the result of a juiced one-night stand.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3lntbq23v6TSEASA7TwQKbudl_2yioJVt9wglZ_6ZqQXJHUfBBMZGYd0jTwnJRw758ODcBFgh0g-9WJOCC2J1dQN1d5EXglSRlRYgH1EYy_X_Z6sggg7Nj4st-0KI9CQm1r1yV6ib2w/s1600/301.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3lntbq23v6TSEASA7TwQKbudl_2yioJVt9wglZ_6ZqQXJHUfBBMZGYd0jTwnJRw758ODcBFgh0g-9WJOCC2J1dQN1d5EXglSRlRYgH1EYy_X_Z6sggg7Nj4st-0KI9CQm1r1yV6ib2w/s640/301.14.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra spent the rest of the day alone,
agonizing over the events of the previous night. The stress over the
possibility of being pregnant made her sick to the stomach. The hangover that
still didn’t want to go away didn’t help much either.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Her mother didn’t come home until early the
next morning. Lyra wasn’t planning on being present when her mom returned,
unwilling to listen to the lecture she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew
</i>was coming, but she couldn’t sleep. She was in the kitchen, making a cup of
hot chocolate with the hope that it would help with her insomnia, when her
mother returned. She looked tired, and Lyra could see something was bothering
her.</span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIsW-BsGgwFO0t1uEVYgKh-xf1A5LLBkga_VRasBD3cdieURqM5HZgcHVOVgZInYa1SLxZJzh6lsUEJlneZVObyeRyPPfy5AnoX9ZMx75oG1aAqddfPwPvcu_3DHbJlrvEGw3coDZTkQ/s1600/301.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIsW-BsGgwFO0t1uEVYgKh-xf1A5LLBkga_VRasBD3cdieURqM5HZgcHVOVgZInYa1SLxZJzh6lsUEJlneZVObyeRyPPfy5AnoX9ZMx75oG1aAqddfPwPvcu_3DHbJlrvEGw3coDZTkQ/s640/301.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra glanced concernedly at her mother, but
didn’t say anything. She was afraid by talking she would set her mom off on the
expected lecture. To her surprise, her mother just sighed and sank into a
chair.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I know you’re expecting me to lecture you,
but I won’t,” she announced tiredly. “I don’t have the strength to do it. Not
tonight.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfmNIpA1LNBKhkE6fUR9UF4-MFr47df84LNZxX1yM64lrx36ZBEaYbaJ1ohK4fs72B7hraKyiyOABtyP0x4yCkwS28N27DMv82yst9imKilSOwfnL8YyOgqxntctS4CMIzptb0dLdn6k/s1600/301.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfmNIpA1LNBKhkE6fUR9UF4-MFr47df84LNZxX1yM64lrx36ZBEaYbaJ1ohK4fs72B7hraKyiyOABtyP0x4yCkwS28N27DMv82yst9imKilSOwfnL8YyOgqxntctS4CMIzptb0dLdn6k/s640/301.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> Well,
</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">Lyra thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m
sure you’ll have a word or two if you knew I might be pregnant. </i>But she
didn’t say it. Her mother clearly had enough things to deal with already. She
wasn’t going to load her own issues onto her as well. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “What happened?” she asked instead, giving
her mother the hot chocolate she had just prepared. She looked like she needed
it more than Lyra did. Her mother gratefully folded her hands around the cup,
soaking up the warmth.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Angelica moved on,” she announced
sombrely. It made her feel terrible, but Lyra couldn’t help the flash of
happiness in her chest at the news. It meant there was one less ghost she had
to deal with.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdCbPoJjFD1nWb1Suhda7dEjWagWAgs_UvOVTrdCB5YdHjSYjcyDA8m4mhpIdSsy_w6Uyd6LZMtELmJLd1U39EsJJAOZ11Xqfim9IjEZM4goIf8UV5wxYuudPsRjloX2jzK5f-2U3yjA/s1600/301.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdCbPoJjFD1nWb1Suhda7dEjWagWAgs_UvOVTrdCB5YdHjSYjcyDA8m4mhpIdSsy_w6Uyd6LZMtELmJLd1U39EsJJAOZ11Xqfim9IjEZM4goIf8UV5wxYuudPsRjloX2jzK5f-2U3yjA/s640/301.17.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She
was waiting for her husband to return to her before she could move on,” her
mother continued, oblivious to the happiness Lyra felt. “Tonight he did. Turns
out he’s been wandering the world, looking for her, and tonight he finally
found her. They moved on together.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra didn’t know how to respond to that.
She had never been close to the ghosts, so it was rather difficult for her to
understand her mother’s melancholy.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Her mother sighed again and buried her head
in her arms. It was several moments before she spoke again, and when she did, her
words caused Lyra to feel even worse.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8f807IGmBdyVORGpTAl1lmhwIFlQf74Ypwwn8HUS1bpdBR-w5Bm-AwH8mejXST7I6m1Q69_EC5j7rpkdndJxJRmvXmanRPsxp5skIva1jNFzyM4XEnyH6m7zPjdPpoDyd5jD-jEvewI/s1600/301.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8f807IGmBdyVORGpTAl1lmhwIFlQf74Ypwwn8HUS1bpdBR-w5Bm-AwH8mejXST7I6m1Q69_EC5j7rpkdndJxJRmvXmanRPsxp5skIva1jNFzyM4XEnyH6m7zPjdPpoDyd5jD-jEvewI/s640/301.18.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
miss your dad,” her mother whispered softly. Lyra’s hands stilled from where
she was making a second cup of hot chocolate; one to replace the cup she had
given her mother. She too missed her dad; more than anything. It had already
been two years, but Lyra still missed him every day. Desperate to change the
subject, she asked the first question that popped into her mind:</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “When is the soonest a person can take a
pregnancy test?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
wasn’t really what she wanted to say.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The question caused her mother to raise her
head again, looking at her with an enquiring stare.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6fFqKXKFKx5UcYgOxTwEmsL6NCaReZ2BPnQpOo3T0tLux9HL9Uy7ckO4BbDz9YGc7SCr2B0hiJAxeiGN9TV_NMgRfdutwZ5BtauZPQ4TE4dOlxhlfd7FejgeA7Q8EC8Zd-YS6CF10js/s1600/301.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6fFqKXKFKx5UcYgOxTwEmsL6NCaReZ2BPnQpOo3T0tLux9HL9Uy7ckO4BbDz9YGc7SCr2B0hiJAxeiGN9TV_NMgRfdutwZ5BtauZPQ4TE4dOlxhlfd7FejgeA7Q8EC8Zd-YS6CF10js/s640/301.19.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“…Depends
on the sensitivity of the test,” her mother answered after several long and
silent seconds. “And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why </i>are you
asking? Do I need to worry about something?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to
answer and place herself even deeper into trouble, but her silence did it for
her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “…You think you’re pregnant,” her mother
stated incredulously.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYtV9v-PFVLVT8sPAD42DeFHnIzbEMlgN_P9dK6Dejkh-O2OYQCOcCydGDRofP4dd1TAPh-XSjwoAjdbfEIPPrwdkVglxCJQ8w-3C8B7KznonGTHAQ2MCGuGwDNzgKwwOKAv7nuCU5G4/s1600/301.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYtV9v-PFVLVT8sPAD42DeFHnIzbEMlgN_P9dK6Dejkh-O2OYQCOcCydGDRofP4dd1TAPh-XSjwoAjdbfEIPPrwdkVglxCJQ8w-3C8B7KznonGTHAQ2MCGuGwDNzgKwwOKAv7nuCU5G4/s640/301.20.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No,
I’m just saying that…I might…be…you know,” Lyra hedged uncertainly. She really
didn’t want to have this discussion with her mother. Her mother rested her head
in her hand, a bemused expression on her face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I wasn’t even aware you’re seeing
somebody,” she replied bemusedly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Because I’m not,” Lyra answered, realising
the cat was out of the bag, and nothing she said would put it back in. “Seeing
someone, that is.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgsmuMs259tQzmgOYv0kRi333cO8YZ7BqsF59x2UG7Dq0uC6K3YADTppWjCaWBj9lHIYrVaufInXGAikNKZ2YiQanG42EwrHIG4tMH5eZJM0xw3ruo5GPF9cHQvI0BFvmxuEYvGHI5a4/s1600/301.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgsmuMs259tQzmgOYv0kRi333cO8YZ7BqsF59x2UG7Dq0uC6K3YADTppWjCaWBj9lHIYrVaufInXGAikNKZ2YiQanG42EwrHIG4tMH5eZJM0xw3ruo5GPF9cHQvI0BFvmxuEYvGHI5a4/s640/301.21.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Silence fell between them at that
confession. Lyra closed her eyes, bracing herself for the lecture she knew was
coming, but her mother surprised her once more.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Hmm. Really now,” her mom responded mildly
and mercifully let the subject drop, choosing instead to answer the original
question. “It really does depend on the sensitivity of the test. The more
sensitive tests can be used seven days after conception, but it won’t always give
you an accurate result. It’s usually better to wait a little longer.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEqAlSB8ZvVWscn6yUvTGvdWsgAxBXK7yg-Iq1QkBLlCIbgiGxYoVvOGrYBb1YAYUvmL2gGeZZ9-7UXCDP7kSlZ0f34CEgDU4eRf47bfBiyaElRbJnBEnAbiC9YRgXpqEALcnNNNMJDM/s1600/301.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEqAlSB8ZvVWscn6yUvTGvdWsgAxBXK7yg-Iq1QkBLlCIbgiGxYoVvOGrYBb1YAYUvmL2gGeZZ9-7UXCDP7kSlZ0f34CEgDU4eRf47bfBiyaElRbJnBEnAbiC9YRgXpqEALcnNNNMJDM/s640/301.22.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right,”
Lyra replied, her stomach dropping to her shoes. So it was going to be at least
a week before she knew for sure. Hopefully it would result in nothing, but she
couldn’t help the sick feeling in her stomach. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She really, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> didn’t want a child.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “What are you doing here?” Lyra scowled at
her visitor, definitely not in the mood to talk to him. He was the absolute
last person she wanted to see.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtCoU5XI_Te56AgatyTjSiruG-usiJi9bDLxDOlJ081VHFOsWVIUKzl_8DKyXNNNnGCowEIhym1yRhJupr4umbsF_SOFbQ2zJUIhgzQQbyPJo-3y57oqQX4EuQnLmmnbo9K7p1fQC0Cu8/s1600/301.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtCoU5XI_Te56AgatyTjSiruG-usiJi9bDLxDOlJ081VHFOsWVIUKzl_8DKyXNNNnGCowEIhym1yRhJupr4umbsF_SOFbQ2zJUIhgzQQbyPJo-3y57oqQX4EuQnLmmnbo9K7p1fQC0Cu8/s640/301.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “You
forgot your phone,” Edwin announced and offered her the small device in his
hand, looking as uncomfortable as Lyra felt. “And we need to talk. About…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that,</i>”
Lyra agreed sarcastically, making absolutely no move to take her phone. She
knew that if she took it she would throw it at him again. Then Edwin opened his
mouth again and Lyra wished she had taken her phone. Only so she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> throw it again.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Look, it shouldn’t have happened, okay?”
Edwin declared frankly. “We were both juiced and not in the right frame of
mind. It was a terrible mistake and I’m…really…sorry…” Something in her eyes
must’ve warned him to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stop talking, </i>because
he suddenly trailed off, looking at her with apprehensive eyes.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEd5JosLlwvys6CCoFoioTSD0YDL9XcvQDzdkcirHnv1harG92pNcZi0jvJkqo4nAoKl9vuOZqpI2eIacL-G8EZDQSfF202lRzg-9sGOH8zj-DA-SF0J68JOkXZjzFKwXf24FCnRLUUk/s1600/301.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEd5JosLlwvys6CCoFoioTSD0YDL9XcvQDzdkcirHnv1harG92pNcZi0jvJkqo4nAoKl9vuOZqpI2eIacL-G8EZDQSfF202lRzg-9sGOH8zj-DA-SF0J68JOkXZjzFKwXf24FCnRLUUk/s640/301.24.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra had no idea what kind of expression
was on her face, but she knew that if she had had a knife in her hand, she
would’ve stabbed him. Repeatedly.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Who would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>to have anything meaningful with an ass like you?” Lyra
retorted, irritated beyond belief. She did not want to deal with this shit
right now. She was tired, cranky, stressed and frankly, the less she had to do
with the ass in front of her the better. She couldn’t be pregnant; not with
this idiot’s child. Then again, as her luck had it, she probably <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i>. Only because Life decided <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck you</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Believe me, Edwin,” she continued, “I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">well</i> aware that it meant nothing. If I
wasn’t out of my mind with juice there would’ve been no way in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hell</i> I would’ve slept with you. So do my
favour and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">go away</i>.” She turned on
her heel, trying to get away from him, but he suddenly grabbed her arm,
preventing her from going any further.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZFhPhQO3B7ri_p7mdgvBlRgtAZoE_DU3EhOwW8Gy1BgtnyZ7KgjTjqFMwXj-5d5zZFO4N0dh_Keh-drwYTgiKJWSbVeTXG2QZxWIEOMhAqyS1nPzNtkfVuoPyJ8nH1_KKwYbg1GEWtI/s1600/301.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZFhPhQO3B7ri_p7mdgvBlRgtAZoE_DU3EhOwW8Gy1BgtnyZ7KgjTjqFMwXj-5d5zZFO4N0dh_Keh-drwYTgiKJWSbVeTXG2QZxWIEOMhAqyS1nPzNtkfVuoPyJ8nH1_KKwYbg1GEWtI/s640/301.25.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “That’s not what I meant,” he protested
pleadingly. “What I meant was…” He sighed and released her arm, choosing
instead to sweep his hand through his hair. Lyra crossed her arms and raised an
eyebrow at him, waiting to see how much deeper he was going to dig the hole he
was putting himself in. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She honestly didn’t expect what followed.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I really like you, okay?” Edwin stated.
“I’ve liked you for a long time now. You’re amazing and stunningly gorgeous,
especially when you laugh. I’ve wanted to ask you if you wanted to go on a date
with me since forever, but then last night happened and I’m really, really
sorry about it. This isn’t exactly what I wanted to happen.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN299slTj2G2Og992HILSvk1AsZ-a6oSVHqVpgoCzz8cSDo0wI-urmw6kljWiQOEZz_SXY_olLY6pR2c_OBotod7tQdxWSRpOHKVyVNklKoULKEKosR27V-RakbwPokUOqggZaemptvjQ/s1600/301.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN299slTj2G2Og992HILSvk1AsZ-a6oSVHqVpgoCzz8cSDo0wI-urmw6kljWiQOEZz_SXY_olLY6pR2c_OBotod7tQdxWSRpOHKVyVNklKoULKEKosR27V-RakbwPokUOqggZaemptvjQ/s640/301.26.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra blinked, caught completely off-guard.
Edwin <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">liked</i> her? She had no idea how
to reply to that. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nobody</i> had ever
liked her in a romantic way. There was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reason
</i>her classmates referred to her as the Ice Bitch. She simply couldn’t wrap
her mind around it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The seconds slipped away as Lyra stared at
Edwin, struck completely silent. He shifted awkwardly, clearly waiting for her
to break the silence and give him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>kind
of response.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “You…” she croaked. She cleared her throat
and tried again. “You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>me?”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z2UQBmN2aRpEF5_pEDKM_WzQj4bHdO469tG8zX09P1fX3mSSPZZsDsfUzMYcQVkpxnEHs4M9GKTZKlPT07fS4G8ZWRdhX8FFYB4R3axT-1pCTWXLFBtGAwIzLDPW6XGhkH1nMLcdY2U/s1600/301.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z2UQBmN2aRpEF5_pEDKM_WzQj4bHdO469tG8zX09P1fX3mSSPZZsDsfUzMYcQVkpxnEHs4M9GKTZKlPT07fS4G8ZWRdhX8FFYB4R3axT-1pCTWXLFBtGAwIzLDPW6XGhkH1nMLcdY2U/s640/301.27.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> He nodded. “I do. I have ever since we
first partnered up for science.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Oh,” was her eloquent response.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She honestly didn’t know how to feel about
it. To be honest, she hadn’t ever really thought about dating before. Well, she
had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thought</i> of it in passing, but
never seriously. Dating was something other people did; not her. She had had
enough other shit to deal with. Still…</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Well,” Edwin said, disrupting her
thoughts. “I guess I should I go. I just really wanted to say I’m sorry.” With
that he shoved her phone into her hand and turned around, stalking away from
her. She could see the tips of his ears burning red.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcnE1EhUJyKUiJfSGcdOoMnKOHShc4HPMQlFIKAYitTYU3aBkRUAQz0MXJDrtdRf3z9CjYsbsnk9k7W13L06JfV4PYPFZhqloJPOEBbXr2OPnEQ5EJ74bBOkMTNQSe7zUYYGdPGREYlI/s1600/301.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcnE1EhUJyKUiJfSGcdOoMnKOHShc4HPMQlFIKAYitTYU3aBkRUAQz0MXJDrtdRf3z9CjYsbsnk9k7W13L06JfV4PYPFZhqloJPOEBbXr2OPnEQ5EJ74bBOkMTNQSe7zUYYGdPGREYlI/s640/301.28.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> He was several paces away from her before
she finally spoke her mind.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “You know, I wouldn’t be too averse,” she
stated, drawing his attention back to her. “About…going on that date.” There,
she said it. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment. She couldn’t
believe she was seriously considering it. But…well, she had to start <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sometime</i>, didn’t she? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> And Edwin <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>a very good kisser. </span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She couldn’t believe she was actually going
to do this.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANFVQQg8TzQcZz6Jg6fezE2cdEugaKVXGd-g_ONetX6UpUQqiZXQYkKfNbyOkljMfpEZkO-E0a_odW_iVZhI-rTxxoncYZDVjPrt01ypLeG9Jd3jgzSJTY4E1rKtr2pWSJJOwcd3kd-4/s1600/301.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANFVQQg8TzQcZz6Jg6fezE2cdEugaKVXGd-g_ONetX6UpUQqiZXQYkKfNbyOkljMfpEZkO-E0a_odW_iVZhI-rTxxoncYZDVjPrt01ypLeG9Jd3jgzSJTY4E1rKtr2pWSJJOwcd3kd-4/s640/301.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> What </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">had she been thinking, agreeing to go on a date? What were they
going to do? What were they going to talk about? She had no idea what people
usually did on a date. She knew from movies there were usually some kind of
dinner involved where both parties subtly flirted with each other over the
table, but she had no idea if that actually happened or not. And again, what
were they going to talk about? She didn’t know him that well.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> At least she didn’t have to worry about the
possibility of being pregnant anymore. Nature had rather kindly informed her
that she didn’t need to worry about it.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The doorbell ringing alerted her to the
fact that she had ran out of time. It was time to face the music.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …Why had she agreed to this again?</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_PbfeVNHyOcnZDn4tfCtuTulbbNJ_x3yzZbe0hNrZ4tiX2J9-fGR1indDeG7rGuVfwj09z60xY5-yELUAUW5l3u7EFlkTboZ6q_p0_mOI2ww_mkU_mPiNOOpFZHmh8-MhYWZvcjwX30/s1600/301.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_PbfeVNHyOcnZDn4tfCtuTulbbNJ_x3yzZbe0hNrZ4tiX2J9-fGR1indDeG7rGuVfwj09z60xY5-yELUAUW5l3u7EFlkTboZ6q_p0_mOI2ww_mkU_mPiNOOpFZHmh8-MhYWZvcjwX30/s640/301.30.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “Uh,
hi,” Edwin greeted her the moment she opened the door, awkwardly offering her
the bouquet of flowers in his hand. She took it, a little embarrassed, but at
the same time, a little flattered. She wasn’t really that fond of flowers, but
she appreciated the gesture all the same.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Uhm, thanks,” she replied. He smiled at
her and offered her his arm, clearly inviting her to get the date started.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FbZguLkFDde7j2-26PNmDRGUyPPwBBg_f0GlAli78DaYshr1q2K5-j8bhRONRiqaCDbXw797-03gOlq_xnPGB03XrVjA5g5hyphenhyphenf1y6r4b2LRtd0IxCqvYZqfxP_SYUAdnSewBa-_FMU8/s1600/301.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FbZguLkFDde7j2-26PNmDRGUyPPwBBg_f0GlAli78DaYshr1q2K5-j8bhRONRiqaCDbXw797-03gOlq_xnPGB03XrVjA5g5hyphenhyphenf1y6r4b2LRtd0IxCqvYZqfxP_SYUAdnSewBa-_FMU8/s640/301.31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The date…wasn’t exactly what she had been
expecting. She had expected something like…a movie, followed by dinner.
Instead, Edwin took her to a secluded viewpoint looking out over the ocean. The
sun was just setting in the distance, throwing its last flickering rays dancing
across the water. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She had to admit, it was a stunning view.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIG9_j3WnbJXRRRsklmuxj_J5z4yvltQN1RU9A-VyRijNVxI8vXH1HhyphenhyphenSPZZ_5Moyd4u_xo2WFNO4vVW7sxECRvK0z-oXgf26Q2s9zwIutkugiNlkK-OJCmXVX4_jiALJBWMaTsbQpRE/s1600/301.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIG9_j3WnbJXRRRsklmuxj_J5z4yvltQN1RU9A-VyRijNVxI8vXH1HhyphenhyphenSPZZ_5Moyd4u_xo2WFNO4vVW7sxECRvK0z-oXgf26Q2s9zwIutkugiNlkK-OJCmXVX4_jiALJBWMaTsbQpRE/s640/301.32.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I know this isn’t a typical thing to do on
a first date,” Edwin announced, rubbing the back of his neck, that same
embarrassed red colouring the tips of his ears, “but, well, I wanted to do
something different.” He gestured towards the picnic basket, inviting her to
take a seat.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Different is good,” she agreed absently,
still enchanted by the view.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkysRII_q9zgYxHiR-tSEdOKyDOWdwudN9M5rttAkAQ3F4xyeL3YpJPhSaH6hWflwSwcl6maXG0LifrD-0mFHbbFgjlf6TfqkWupHRrjyX9GuHU4y_WxsAxKP6_sRlM80sDVhYWDWoxo/s1600/301.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkysRII_q9zgYxHiR-tSEdOKyDOWdwudN9M5rttAkAQ3F4xyeL3YpJPhSaH6hWflwSwcl6maXG0LifrD-0mFHbbFgjlf6TfqkWupHRrjyX9GuHU4y_WxsAxKP6_sRlM80sDVhYWDWoxo/s640/301.33.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The date continued until long in the night.
The food Edwin had packed was quite good (not quite the quality of her mother’s
food, but still good nonetheless) and the nectar he had chosen was surprisingly
sweet and light. She rather liked it. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> To her surprise, they managed to keep the
conversation flowing. They talked about their favourite things and hobbies,
they gossiped about people they both knew from school and they told each other
anecdotes and stories they had heard somewhere or another, accompanied only by
the sound of the waves breaking far below them on the rocks.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> It was different from what she had
expected, but she really didn’t mind.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDVOKWeddb57GIi6xEMA5kqvpzyCpGBTSCqZ-JtkC0JlvB3D8w_3AP4iT_pcT2Prqv5I1e8c_Lr331bwNAdPOtWXTMpr2XaR98G_n1bkdaj2n9sN0xmR9f8U1MOje7vGSwDW8iZ4QnZs/s1600/301.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDVOKWeddb57GIi6xEMA5kqvpzyCpGBTSCqZ-JtkC0JlvB3D8w_3AP4iT_pcT2Prqv5I1e8c_Lr331bwNAdPOtWXTMpr2XaR98G_n1bkdaj2n9sN0xmR9f8U1MOje7vGSwDW8iZ4QnZs/s640/301.34.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll
admit, this isn’t exactly what I expected of tonight,” she admitted during a slight
lull in the conversation. “But I like it. I’ve always enjoyed watching the sun
set over the ocean. There’s just something calming about listening to the
waves.” She took a sip of nectar from the glass in her hand, her thoughts far
away.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She always had enjoyed watching out over
the sea. She hated Sunset Valley with a passion – she couldn’t stand the way
the town was stagnating, too caught up in stereotypes and tradition – but even she
had to admit, its oceans were gorgeous. Still, gorgeous oceans didn’t make up
for everything that had happened in the town; for all the shit she had had to
go through.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNSKiDdoVS93nUMb7Lqo3jw0czvim6QreCOELPcBMmAMgrtSrFvbsR1TfjnJE5rsMJfYX_XXaJJD_S2HZZwrAydMuuVMCFlWQLl6BGvyaFRPySFclCX7phTtUQyU3zoiNefLrpdLqA0o/s1600/301.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNSKiDdoVS93nUMb7Lqo3jw0czvim6QreCOELPcBMmAMgrtSrFvbsR1TfjnJE5rsMJfYX_XXaJJD_S2HZZwrAydMuuVMCFlWQLl6BGvyaFRPySFclCX7phTtUQyU3zoiNefLrpdLqA0o/s640/301.35.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah,”
Edwin agreed, his eyes joining hers in looking over the ocean. “And of course,
Sunset Valley has the best views. I honestly can’t imagine living anywhere
else.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> His words made Lyra still. The way he had
said it…it was clear he harboured a lot of love for Sunset Valley. It was
something that mystified her slightly. How could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anybody </i>love this godforsaken town? Were the people around her
honestly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>blind to the town’s
faults?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I can,” she contradicted him. “Very
easily.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdG0UEmd0SZCt54-42TICFZA1WNdMFP5oYE4tSnpm0Mc72k3-seyu-KKIx4Evq5OqWYjF7YhGi6u8MqkAe66_JOQzv__BsMO2RG0-pT8Dz_5E426Ji5sIJZaKV0FQHeIzjC_iu1pEG71M/s1600/301.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdG0UEmd0SZCt54-42TICFZA1WNdMFP5oYE4tSnpm0Mc72k3-seyu-KKIx4Evq5OqWYjF7YhGi6u8MqkAe66_JOQzv__BsMO2RG0-pT8Dz_5E426Ji5sIJZaKV0FQHeIzjC_iu1pEG71M/s640/301.36.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “Oh,”
he replied and looked away from her, allowing his eyes to drift over the ocean
again. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Silence fell between them, broken only by
the waves sounding in the distance. For the first time that night, the silence
was slightly uncomfortable. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Is it…because of what happened in the
winter season?” Edwin asked hesitantly after several minutes. “With your
father, I mean.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Lyra knocked her head back, downing the
rest of the nectar in her glass. This was one topic she did not want to talk
about.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGe2KTYQrUw1YVM8bR8S6Z-7irUc8I1qsp6ObcYkv7ZqVv7-Wci57iyF4GBub1Lsr_ctZ20o8PT_hTeKFEjtTEWAX-0HYbwde6xsqPy1gwtkpxlj0sj4tNysxiXYfywCc20q__WiBYMs/s1600/301.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGe2KTYQrUw1YVM8bR8S6Z-7irUc8I1qsp6ObcYkv7ZqVv7-Wci57iyF4GBub1Lsr_ctZ20o8PT_hTeKFEjtTEWAX-0HYbwde6xsqPy1gwtkpxlj0sj4tNysxiXYfywCc20q__WiBYMs/s640/301.37.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She wasn’t surprised he knew about it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everybody </i>in the damn town knew about
it. The gossip about the events from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that
night </i>had spread faster than a wildfire did through Appaloosa Plains during
the dry season, and everyone had been shocked about it; lamenting the loss of
such a great writer. Lyra was just glad nobody had come to their house to offer
their condolences. Seemed like living in a known haunted house had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some </i>benefits.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “As a matter of fact, no. It’s not. And
what happened to my father has nothing to do with you,” she replied tersely.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Edwin raised his hands in defence, trying
to alleviate her anger.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLo6VbLQ3SmAF2BrqWWNzZUmI01udips7xLIBXihkr4UKytwpncp4f904Ax-X6paDwb3MlGt7fA6KLjI3LGDoaLr52BMDwovSxseAe0JzvI5z2UQSrFmZ3SIaLqDc8QjdTV3AEnxG8S74/s1600/301.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLo6VbLQ3SmAF2BrqWWNzZUmI01udips7xLIBXihkr4UKytwpncp4f904Ax-X6paDwb3MlGt7fA6KLjI3LGDoaLr52BMDwovSxseAe0JzvI5z2UQSrFmZ3SIaLqDc8QjdTV3AEnxG8S74/s640/301.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Okay,
I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else instead,” he suggested. Lyra
exhaled, trying to rein her temper in a bit. She allowed her tense muscles to
relax marginally, choosing to pour herself another glass of nectar instead of
continuing the argument.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “So what do you have against the name ‘Spitfire’
in anyway?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> …And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of
course </i>the topic hadn’t really changed.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6J-gZjclzMh_ogGUS_2WTRVtGeaFCj1wsMrNGk1i8gzQWaQxNigEcx598amWTJecXlBWygtuNIWRvusu3od-092O1qvFI2DCs1btL7gBEH6UCNr_hpJodBfepqZbeCnrj8dide8kSrKs/s1600/301.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6J-gZjclzMh_ogGUS_2WTRVtGeaFCj1wsMrNGk1i8gzQWaQxNigEcx598amWTJecXlBWygtuNIWRvusu3od-092O1qvFI2DCs1btL7gBEH6UCNr_hpJodBfepqZbeCnrj8dide8kSrKs/s640/301.39.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nothing,”
she replied curtly. “I just don’t like it when people call me that.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Somehow, Edwin managed to miss the warning
signs, as he actually went and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">continued </i>the
topic.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Why not? I think it fits you pretty well,”
he asked curiously, a slightly amused look on his face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Yes, well, so did my dad.” The moment
she said that she averted her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn’t said it. It
was too personal. And she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t </i>want
to talk about her dad, or anything connected to him.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodOO1CqZ9EKODUxR6r0mSOOu7mngux_0Be2cEb13aUAJTCiRYOzsD7czBbrRDuUDfTMvyVXmRijrSIpoRSE53W9UbqAZrs3-BdS78RHhFjIQTT9ymU1IobOPO77NhYWzsiVgeyiT_WVE/s1600/301.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodOO1CqZ9EKODUxR6r0mSOOu7mngux_0Be2cEb13aUAJTCiRYOzsD7czBbrRDuUDfTMvyVXmRijrSIpoRSE53W9UbqAZrs3-BdS78RHhFjIQTT9ymU1IobOPO77NhYWzsiVgeyiT_WVE/s640/301.40.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Edwin drew in a sharp breath at that
revelation.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Shit, Lyra, I’m sorry,” he immediately
apologised, but the damage was already done. What had been a pleasant evening
had been ruined by his inability to take a hint.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She stood up, more than ready to end this
farce. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “You know what, Edwin, I don’t think this
is going to work out,” she informed him irritably. She didn’t want to deal with
this disaster of a date any further. “Please, just take me home.”</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSb_m0X-M43LbGKRT5VSr7fqH6-c90476h8cT4HZ_4zzgCT5qvKT2LETf7myAW8PTe7VAeIcGH3dGJBXBWlKfTuld9hXnLasnboIYkFmX1DNJI5LqZGNa6TNR-NX8DOVYFDax6BAsIRG8/s1600/301.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSb_m0X-M43LbGKRT5VSr7fqH6-c90476h8cT4HZ_4zzgCT5qvKT2LETf7myAW8PTe7VAeIcGH3dGJBXBWlKfTuld9hXnLasnboIYkFmX1DNJI5LqZGNa6TNR-NX8DOVYFDax6BAsIRG8/s640/301.41.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The despondent expression on his face was
almost enough to make her take back her request, but she stubbornly ignored it.
He packed up the picnic and before long, they were on their way back to her
house.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The ride back was extremely uncomfortable;
an awkward silence hanging between them. Lyra considered breaking the silence
several times, but in the end, her pride always stopped her.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYumnM7dqHjP-DeXTNeK3IR1Ktajh3Q9hCofPieNDvhZ0jCFvHmnG4qQNAWmYydnRfVaXXw605cgbI3_0lCWRoyhbzebqyZajVMXWomGSe7_DmRtlIeHfoCtS2muTF90cS2e5j-AWRcw8/s1600/301.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYumnM7dqHjP-DeXTNeK3IR1Ktajh3Q9hCofPieNDvhZ0jCFvHmnG4qQNAWmYydnRfVaXXw605cgbI3_0lCWRoyhbzebqyZajVMXWomGSe7_DmRtlIeHfoCtS2muTF90cS2e5j-AWRcw8/s640/301.42.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She was beyond glad when they finally
arrived at her house. She didn’t wait for him to do the whole chivalry thing,
choosing instead to open her own door and stalk towards the house. Edwin
followed her dejectedly, half a step behind her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She was about to storm into the house, desperate
to get away from him, but she made the mistake of glancing at him for a second.
He looked so much like a kicked puppy at that moment that she couldn’t get it
over to heart to leave him without at least saying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i> to him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh30t57pi0dkjwtbMpei_rWIAyICfl-mOMwBt2-jh1TM3jDslnTNZ9zTyVdf2bRjPzq9p422kc9XyQt_OkDN7JLb96lUm_RVhyXhel6MSA6XWlNmczWrLtfz7PBWEWx3H-_eopmxeOO44w/s1600/301.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh30t57pi0dkjwtbMpei_rWIAyICfl-mOMwBt2-jh1TM3jDslnTNZ9zTyVdf2bRjPzq9p422kc9XyQt_OkDN7JLb96lUm_RVhyXhel6MSA6XWlNmczWrLtfz7PBWEWx3H-_eopmxeOO44w/s640/301.43.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “Thank
you for tonight,” she told him with a sigh. Sure, the date had ended a failure,
but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed at least a bit of it. She
had actually enjoyed his company before that disastrous topic. Sure, he was a
bit cocky and arrogant, but he had managed to make her laugh and smile. She
couldn’t remember the last time she did so. “It wasn’t…entirely horrible.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The expression on his face was like the sun
rising. His expression fell slightly after the initial shock of her words wore
off and he shifted his weight, clearly wanting to say something. Lyra patiently
waited for him, slightly bemused by his behaviour. He really was acting just
like a puppy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sLMm5rT_OYmZd5KRoa8LVMHZ_xj02GzEgUVZTqBdSk4UcCL71te1I630SmHwQaaCI6xatVOWNkqfWeGtCl-_jboMCFifYUWeJKnJz_ACgzBzR_NRT-9i8kZ8pB2pV5Zie1hpQZMarDo/s1600/301.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sLMm5rT_OYmZd5KRoa8LVMHZ_xj02GzEgUVZTqBdSk4UcCL71te1I630SmHwQaaCI6xatVOWNkqfWeGtCl-_jboMCFifYUWeJKnJz_ACgzBzR_NRT-9i8kZ8pB2pV5Zie1hpQZMarDo/s640/301.44.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> “Then,
would you, maybe, like, be up for another date?” he stammered nervously. “Like,
when you’re ready.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> In response, she did something she had never
in a hundred lifetimes thought she’d do. She stood on the tips of her toes and
placed her lips on his in a soft kiss. It took him a moment to respond, clearly
caught by surprise, but when he did he reminded Lyra just how much of a good
kisser he was.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwYCWjZp5aQKWNsHv7xxexOlBMv03w_M6vXee_7GUu1qUqvRn31bGLt3zSXv2YH3h0f3xAIFKAllR9ljz7RLI2K3X_Rut4sUOZYA5nYELzbPfDxMpKN91Fn9rrIo1qSEneihsjtpHbJo/s1600/301.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwYCWjZp5aQKWNsHv7xxexOlBMv03w_M6vXee_7GUu1qUqvRn31bGLt3zSXv2YH3h0f3xAIFKAllR9ljz7RLI2K3X_Rut4sUOZYA5nYELzbPfDxMpKN91Fn9rrIo1qSEneihsjtpHbJo/s640/301.45.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
wouldn’t mind,” she answered his question when they finally broke the kiss, “but
not too soon. I’ll call you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> She flashed him an impish smile and
disappeared into the house, leaving him standing alone on the porch.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">_~…~_</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">AN: …And generation 3 starts off with a
bang. XD To be honest, this isn’t quite how I planned this chapter to go, but
Edwin insisted on his date, so…he got his date. It was supposed to be a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nice </i>date. Then Lyra absolutely insisted
on making a failure of it. I’m starting to doubt that Lyra is actually capable
of having a conversation without having a fight <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">somewhere </i>during the course of it. I’m really enjoying her. She’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun </i>to write. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh yeah, I got tired of censoring things,
so I decided to use the adult content warning from this generation onwards.
Lyra’s words and actions aren’t exactly child-friendly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-30510250814459492102015-05-04T13:17:00.001+02:002015-05-04T13:30:53.402+02:00Legacy Sims - Download Renard<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As promised, here is Renard. I've packed him with the scar, but if you don't like it you're free to remove it. If you don't have the scar package installed though, it will probably cause a random blush to appear, so you'd just need to remove it manually. He also has lipstick on, since the skin I use puts a slight glow on the lips, which I don't really like on the men. Feel free to use him whichever way you want. :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As usual:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Note: All my sims use the same default eyes and skin, which can be found here - [<a href="http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=475508">Eyes - Tenti Oculos</a>] [<a href="http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_63e832e0010181ck.html">Skin - European Skin Lemonleaf B2.0</a>]</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You
are welcome to use my sims in any way, be it simple genetic donor or
treasonous villain. You are also more than welcome to edit them to your
own preferences. I'd like to see what they get up to though, if anyone
decides to use them. Just please don't reupload them somewhere else.</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Renard Marquel - Generation 2 Spare</span></b></i></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKelmbUGnRSLoNbPflLhyphenhyphenTdXp6bwuyFTcbkXquyKtDnQ3bn311FYGaRqsII-Uve85PaoQJQDMjtimpXePwgPXmFInM_OJqX3yiBesoA1qFfs9Z3sNZsPk8LulS5SzU9Z-C2PRkj1T_7o/s1600/Renard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKelmbUGnRSLoNbPflLhyphenhyphenTdXp6bwuyFTcbkXquyKtDnQ3bn311FYGaRqsII-Uve85PaoQJQDMjtimpXePwgPXmFInM_OJqX3yiBesoA1qFfs9Z3sNZsPk8LulS5SzU9Z-C2PRkj1T_7o/s1600/Renard.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Traits:</b> Athletic, </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> Flirty, Charismatic, Irresistible, Virtuoso</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <b>Lifetime Wish:</b> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">International Super Spy</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Favourites:</b></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> Digitones, Grilled Salmon, Yellow</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14KzRFyYEIWnQ6Hq7ii6As-PmwQAODhXD2q2XaZoG-8Rho7Oq5m6SPFOKf03JRT27P-PGkQyzqDY4i1DlagBz2zF6FVUAvavyjB72lYbkfKfpNmRu-4I6oZP6413VVRvcclM28aQOuog/s1600/Renard+Outfits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14KzRFyYEIWnQ6Hq7ii6As-PmwQAODhXD2q2XaZoG-8Rho7Oq5m6SPFOKf03JRT27P-PGkQyzqDY4i1DlagBz2zF6FVUAvavyjB72lYbkfKfpNmRu-4I6oZP6413VVRvcclM28aQOuog/s640/Renard+Outfits.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">CC and Expansion Packs used:</span><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hair: <a href="http://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/1171341" target="_blank">[Cazy #64 Per Sempre]</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Scar: </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://i-like-teh-sims.tumblr.com/tagged/download/page/4" target="_blank">[ILTS 2012 Advent - 23; Scars Redux</a>] </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(This one is a bit tricky to get. At the moment it is on the 4th page 2nd from the top, but it might change. You might have to scroll through everything to find it. It's the Triple package)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lipstick: <a href="http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=385929" target="_blank">[Arisuka Natural Lipcolor for Both Genders]</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Outfits:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Everyday - Pets</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Athletic - University & Town Life Stuff</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Swimwear - Island Paradise </span><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/download/t19p7zctp5cjzaj/Renard_Marquel.sim" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Download</i></span></a></span></b></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-7638391616330944282015-04-22T20:04:00.000+02:002015-04-22T21:15:23.815+02:00Chapter 2.19 - Broken Bonds<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warning:
violence, strong language and <i>possibly</i> disturbing images if seen unexpectedly.
I know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>got a shock the first time I
looked them through after shooting. I didn’t realise it’s possible for TS3 to
be so…graphic, with the right CC. </span></span></span></b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don’t
say I didn’t warn you. :)</span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The clock was ticking. In the back of
Chantia’s mind, the Song intensified, starting the countdown to the looming
incident that was going to tear her family apart if she didn’t act <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fast</i>.</span></span></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQayPWHxSuIO6J4T1ZEuDfh0v59QRI6DWe-M6WSwKOGhaGbfNHZMm0P7t-CnuSqvS3hJENMVW6CpRdb1b0wmTQKud2IAGh65imM6BUcbWJ4IS1YjJ9_mrVU51IDFqG2qia_Y5MIEdkGCA/s1600/219.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQayPWHxSuIO6J4T1ZEuDfh0v59QRI6DWe-M6WSwKOGhaGbfNHZMm0P7t-CnuSqvS3hJENMVW6CpRdb1b0wmTQKud2IAGh65imM6BUcbWJ4IS1YjJ9_mrVU51IDFqG2qia_Y5MIEdkGCA/s1600/219.01.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Her phone rang in her pocket. Without slowing
her steps, she pulled it out and answered without even glancing at the caller
ID. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She’s
got Renard</i>,” Sam’s voice came through the speaker in an anxious tone. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Valeri</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She just called me from his phone. She wants me to meet her at the
abandoned warehouse. I already called the police, but I don’t have the time to
wait for them, so I’m going so long.”</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The words had Chantia pale even more.
“Don’t be reckless, Sam,” she implored him, afraid for his life. “She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wants </i>you to take her on alone. You’re
going to get killed.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSufGNAv96KHKpWOuDUNYICC5J1v_1rWVDd0R_HIH9sNC5ww9t_GJ3q_-uTChftFnMq7DjKjlfz6GRNwartwqq3pivbigq6VVm6R4fphjvCvLCectm699WM7miPTQVkuTleqF0D_oeY7U/s1600/219.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSufGNAv96KHKpWOuDUNYICC5J1v_1rWVDd0R_HIH9sNC5ww9t_GJ3q_-uTChftFnMq7DjKjlfz6GRNwartwqq3pivbigq6VVm6R4fphjvCvLCectm699WM7miPTQVkuTleqF0D_oeY7U/s1600/219.02.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She’s going to kill Renard if I </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">go,” </i>he replied, his
voice slightly hysterical. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She only gave
me five minutes to get there. The police are on their way as well, but it’s
going to take them more than five minutes to get there. She said she’ll give
him an injury for every minute I’m late. I </i>won’t<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> let her harm my son.” </i></span></span></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Chantia closed her eyes in pain. Her heart
clenched at the thought of either her son or her husband getting injured.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Then please, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">please </i>just be careful,” she begged him, resigning herself to the
necessity of letting him go.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTTwpVkkhMURj8mtwZEO8DqZtUnp7M9NwWNKwM7kxDWI4C1BxSBtPZj4wfAFCt3my0lnWHdWl-NHMelM3-8Gqb3aAjjAHmcGHarHqo6fl65gJxesvGpxM58xtZkBuzjGfdzxiTMEQkpw/s1600/219.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTTwpVkkhMURj8mtwZEO8DqZtUnp7M9NwWNKwM7kxDWI4C1BxSBtPZj4wfAFCt3my0lnWHdWl-NHMelM3-8Gqb3aAjjAHmcGHarHqo6fl65gJxesvGpxM58xtZkBuzjGfdzxiTMEQkpw/s1600/219.03.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will,</i>” he promised and ended the call.
Chantia stared at the silent phone for a moment before setting off again. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She’d be damned if she allowed her husband
to face the danger alone.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The first thing Sam noticed when he entered
the warehouse was the blood. It wasn’t much, mercifully, but just the sight of
his son bleeding was enough to cause the fury to rise in his chest. He was
going to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kill </i>Valeri.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsahnqFSJWR2sr1sS_ddrHLn7vXMXJBLQETvL7tonuwRIAVroFVFmnV_lkbauE9zSOPhZj7Er0ig2w26ykqdWOWOKViKPjwLz2QDWu3Md2cTfxRqrEUvSOqbiXdrEyirG_3heUfb0Iyc/s1600/219.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihsahnqFSJWR2sr1sS_ddrHLn7vXMXJBLQETvL7tonuwRIAVroFVFmnV_lkbauE9zSOPhZj7Er0ig2w26ykqdWOWOKViKPjwLz2QDWu3Md2cTfxRqrEUvSOqbiXdrEyirG_3heUfb0Iyc/s1600/219.04.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You’re late,” Valeri declared coolly. “I
wasn’t sure if you’d take my warning seriously enough, so I thought I’d give
you some incentive. Hopefully now you’ll take me seriously.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">f*cking
</i>b*tch,” Sam growled, his upper lip pulled into a snarl. “You –” Words
failed him completely. The crimson streaks on Renard’s cheek stared glaringly
at him, causing his vision to be filled with red-hot flashes of fury.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Does anybody know you came here?” she
interrupted him, the question bringing him back to the delicacy of the
situation at hand. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">couldn’t </i>mess
it up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAzD8eqT4elnnW3MJqkYOXd9hCl4slb5rwNkcrclt5IlN5MqetRixx3sRkKJB8TsoQYUM3Xna22fxlmSgSp-aO1swkTvN4Nu1VmNvFlPvngmI-CEJkfsJCu5a1xt8jIcjlXU7HSoSioE/s1600/219.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAzD8eqT4elnnW3MJqkYOXd9hCl4slb5rwNkcrclt5IlN5MqetRixx3sRkKJB8TsoQYUM3Xna22fxlmSgSp-aO1swkTvN4Nu1VmNvFlPvngmI-CEJkfsJCu5a1xt8jIcjlXU7HSoSioE/s1600/219.05.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “No one,” he lied, shaking his head.
Valeri’s eyes flashed with anger, but before she could accuse him of lying, he
steamrolled on. “Five minutes is an insanely short amount of time. Did you
honestly expect me to have the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">time</i>
to inform anyone? I’m not stupid, Valeri. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know
</i>you’d have no qualms to hurting my son.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stupid
</i>would be to come here without informing anyone,” she retorted vehemently. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t lie to me</i>. Now, who did you inform?”</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtr4-1q-q2IPUwnPl3lNBwvERCVncgPaUa27I6ipsN_WZ3WQ_VJqIlBl-QC8Mio0eWQUXtkhHxTCVFHEmLjSheT7pjRES4Mp9qMHmN0OwVIgLC-AXs0Qd7ETnFGsYOurrLRIuHmeJA1RQ/s1600/219.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtr4-1q-q2IPUwnPl3lNBwvERCVncgPaUa27I6ipsN_WZ3WQ_VJqIlBl-QC8Mio0eWQUXtkhHxTCVFHEmLjSheT7pjRES4Mp9qMHmN0OwVIgLC-AXs0Qd7ETnFGsYOurrLRIuHmeJA1RQ/s1600/219.06.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look,
it doesn’t matter,” he deflected the question. “You wanted to meet with me,
alone. Well, here I am. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Let my son go</i>.” </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She gave a short bark of laughter in
response. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?” she asked
incredulously. She lowered her hand and the point of the knife she was holding
came perilously close to Renard’s throat.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yONYtwZctWWYwm13cfHjdwG-C1WXisQ8MltsQANgOKhB3MItMj9RB3zQQNy-ICaz1xhbQYDcAZE92w8oEu0NHomVcFP3QxSKiWFpQcbLyoWzUUOjDQn-O6QLVanMWsu9FrIzaQURsTo/s1600/219.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yONYtwZctWWYwm13cfHjdwG-C1WXisQ8MltsQANgOKhB3MItMj9RB3zQQNy-ICaz1xhbQYDcAZE92w8oEu0NHomVcFP3QxSKiWFpQcbLyoWzUUOjDQn-O6QLVanMWsu9FrIzaQURsTo/s1600/219.07.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Sam froze in fear, his eyes staring at the
knife. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You
betrayed me, Sammy,” Valeri declared. “You took away my freedom; a part of my
life. I think it’s only fitting I do the same to you. An eye for an eye, after
all; a life for a life. Your son for my freedom.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The knife descended even more, but Sam
didn’t allow it to reach its target.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> He couldn’t stall for any more time.
Praying that help was coming soon, he threw caution to the wind and went on the
offensive.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBkEmunv1mCMvg_yxLbUvBShIgNMTUm7URtrFhj6WWzGJTzlxg_CzhQdkzuQCDkuJos6tl7fGNo99cQosoFT9H0tEix8Ws7u6d_uMmu58gduSeb4ELq6FaQvx5XSVrtmTuUTtllXZSvw/s1600/219.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBkEmunv1mCMvg_yxLbUvBShIgNMTUm7URtrFhj6WWzGJTzlxg_CzhQdkzuQCDkuJos6tl7fGNo99cQosoFT9H0tEix8Ws7u6d_uMmu58gduSeb4ELq6FaQvx5XSVrtmTuUTtllXZSvw/s1600/219.08.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The fight was short, but very brutal.
Getting into a fistfight when the enemy had a knife <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t</i> the best idea he’d ever had, but he couldn’t allow Valeri to
harm Renard any more than she already had. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dad!</i>”
Renard’s voice rang through the air, his voice anxious and filled with worry.
For just an instant, Sam lost focus at the fight, instinctually turning his
attention to Renard. The momentary lapse in concentration was just what Valeri
had been waiting for.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLukOrXCbc3eBR7uK-X9jMc6aBuvCvOU20sYK10se_cfhi-S_II8ZJ4_6HjPbRdw8PDWI2JHJUfmK3rArzwCk6dNjeKCnXHe4l-rzipr36zbBHSzir80XLFvWEv4KF71PbcjQFQzxcRs/s1600/219.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLukOrXCbc3eBR7uK-X9jMc6aBuvCvOU20sYK10se_cfhi-S_II8ZJ4_6HjPbRdw8PDWI2JHJUfmK3rArzwCk6dNjeKCnXHe4l-rzipr36zbBHSzir80XLFvWEv4KF71PbcjQFQzxcRs/s1600/219.09.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"> Knowing
that if he didn’t end the fight soon, he never would, Sam threw himself at
Valeri, pushing her to the ground. Doing his best to ignore the pain in his
abdomen, he fastened his hands around Valeri’s neck and tightened his hold,
holding on for dear life. Sure enough, Valeri’s struggles grew more desperate
as she tried to escape from his hold, but he didn’t let go. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTixqUO866kYUBkcUf3QLAkhITS2Avdv-pvojObkEI4L3HCm4O3EFwWLhQYMC5-qqofiLMac-o1CG50TqGl6LMud1whxBdiqcmKPCwovu57EE-r5aaYW3MB-oSFPFVOEo8XPErJ8tRcuY/s1600/219.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTixqUO866kYUBkcUf3QLAkhITS2Avdv-pvojObkEI4L3HCm4O3EFwWLhQYMC5-qqofiLMac-o1CG50TqGl6LMud1whxBdiqcmKPCwovu57EE-r5aaYW3MB-oSFPFVOEo8XPErJ8tRcuY/s1600/219.10.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> After what felt like an eternity, his
childhood nemesis ceased her struggles and collapsed onto the bloodstained
floor. Hazy with pain and loss of blood, Sam was vaguely aware of Renard
hysterically calling his name before his vision grew dark and he knew no more. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fnxA8fm6BjGq18iEiCwUgcv0Tg6rY4h1Om7PhBRwSkLcYVaY9OIEIcW9ZK8pPLbBf-0eAMeVfK8_uVY4qRg6LwmUqfx_Fp5zn371ZY1wtDNCaLiOCnsi0XgG3zuGQvaXHR3CvwozceQ/s1600/219.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fnxA8fm6BjGq18iEiCwUgcv0Tg6rY4h1Om7PhBRwSkLcYVaY9OIEIcW9ZK8pPLbBf-0eAMeVfK8_uVY4qRg6LwmUqfx_Fp5zn371ZY1wtDNCaLiOCnsi0XgG3zuGQvaXHR3CvwozceQ/s1600/219.11.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_ </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_9" o:spid="_x0000_i1053" style="height: 239.4pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 425.4pt;" type="#_x0000_t75"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><v:imagedata o:title="219.12" src="file:///C:\Users\Anri\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image012.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></v:imagedata></v:shape></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ96S9DxFGnxfCjBXdtiSh0KESqkcy7AT_YgRiDzQlOKVN3l0q7WoC13o-oBVv7dFH9Ui5E5vpQ9erxnjcrfMOLEfgv48DvUFx9tb-0ofuEhOWN6uUtnMmD8FRd1L1JnIz8ZY1yYyBqiw/s1600/219.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ96S9DxFGnxfCjBXdtiSh0KESqkcy7AT_YgRiDzQlOKVN3l0q7WoC13o-oBVv7dFH9Ui5E5vpQ9erxnjcrfMOLEfgv48DvUFx9tb-0ofuEhOWN6uUtnMmD8FRd1L1JnIz8ZY1yYyBqiw/s1600/219.12.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1pN54NVfchHRrKoTmK_qWtxxXb0vlQjOqDew6_OnON1cgFvDjd8CH_5wrTh4A503gEF3ds6KKv78g88Ja_YdSEm2IiToh9VnEHwrzU5BFpf21xCIDnE1jzUSzIO__seyd_O515w5bAo/s1600/219.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1pN54NVfchHRrKoTmK_qWtxxXb0vlQjOqDew6_OnON1cgFvDjd8CH_5wrTh4A503gEF3ds6KKv78g88Ja_YdSEm2IiToh9VnEHwrzU5BFpf21xCIDnE1jzUSzIO__seyd_O515w5bAo/s1600/219.14.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJWjGXVgpxWTvwxFyztDyr0aSWlMDygfo3Ysm7KJ8yNbs6IUGE7MjjhPQZ0EDgpG6JEFIHuZTQ5sh7THH_2If-ZNRo94xmL8es4S7JFgWQOKhi1xPk8h1gTCr5lQGXL-F6SshNYTGI6g/s1600/219.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJWjGXVgpxWTvwxFyztDyr0aSWlMDygfo3Ysm7KJ8yNbs6IUGE7MjjhPQZ0EDgpG6JEFIHuZTQ5sh7THH_2If-ZNRo94xmL8es4S7JFgWQOKhi1xPk8h1gTCr5lQGXL-F6SshNYTGI6g/s1600/219.15.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHdu8rq2Y8J8rPSOwFBBWBGLQwkEX26PZFkYeqgG_nJxl7-rYFiet6Fkp9tKAYRZHD2GA8khwqOPW7yG1FLCpFLobyAyep22C4BJtAqBPk4zBxGTS3yhoDUVFbEDdrSiMVv8GLN3orZY/s1600/219.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHdu8rq2Y8J8rPSOwFBBWBGLQwkEX26PZFkYeqgG_nJxl7-rYFiet6Fkp9tKAYRZHD2GA8khwqOPW7yG1FLCpFLobyAyep22C4BJtAqBPk4zBxGTS3yhoDUVFbEDdrSiMVv8GLN3orZY/s1600/219.16.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_ </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_17" o:spid="_x0000_i1048" style="height: 239.4pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 425.4pt;" type="#_x0000_t75"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><v:imagedata o:title="219.17" src="file:///C:\Users\Anri\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image017.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></v:imagedata></v:shape></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_J1LlPohvqgRk54-RdEbTFnsN-KAqqMA_ESbbJRPCEjLfEO9xUw6sxHQp7KOiCui-GccA2iVpN4X-sa8eC4X2ztp7kStBdAscx8jvmeYJpurZdzvQRk-gp3UN1hijVHlkKxBt4ta3B7c/s1600/219.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_J1LlPohvqgRk54-RdEbTFnsN-KAqqMA_ESbbJRPCEjLfEO9xUw6sxHQp7KOiCui-GccA2iVpN4X-sa8eC4X2ztp7kStBdAscx8jvmeYJpurZdzvQRk-gp3UN1hijVHlkKxBt4ta3B7c/s1600/219.17.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was the longest night of her life. In
the background, Chantia could hear the usual hustle and bustle as the rest of
the hospital staff went on with their daily lives, but she didn’t really pay
attention to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of her focus was
placed on the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the slight rise and fall
of her husband’s chest. He was alive. He was still alive. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She did her absolute best to ignore the
dirge playing in the back of her mind. It was rapidly approaching the climax,
and nothing she did could either delay or eliminate that climax. For the first
time in her life, Chantia absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">detested
</i>the Song.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In the corner of her vision, she noticed an
almost imperceptible darkness appear. With a curious sense of detachment, she
watched the darkness solidify into a being she had heard numerous tales of, but
never witnessed for herself. At the same time, the Song burst into climax,
intensified by the presence of the being in the room.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG432LWBuRi8M5Yf6U2GxktDP9aoS_EMylFZSdBMTt-zXcWDHF3q3igUcXVUapA4Iz800LGlcWg7q_nHYQgZ_MEEH9HwbeKtxw4ReB2CTu57x2cgtQlodgAN1gYdlUBkBLfPHCY8WGmqI/s1600/219.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG432LWBuRi8M5Yf6U2GxktDP9aoS_EMylFZSdBMTt-zXcWDHF3q3igUcXVUapA4Iz800LGlcWg7q_nHYQgZ_MEEH9HwbeKtxw4ReB2CTu57x2cgtQlodgAN1gYdlUBkBLfPHCY8WGmqI/s1600/219.18.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The Keeper of Balance. The Grim Reaper. The
personification of death. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are
you here to take my husband?” she asked softly, boldly looking the Keeper in
the eye. Inside she was screaming and crying and begging, but outwards she kept
calm. The being in front of her was so alien, so incomprehensible. She
shouldn’t be talking to it, but she simply couldn’t help herself. She cleared
her throat, trying to dislodge the lump stuck in her throat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her eyes stung like mad. “To the World of the
Dead?” </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The being turned its shadowed gaze to her
and regarded her for a moment before it turned its attention back to the person
lying on the bed. Skeletal fingers brushed against Sam’s cheek, following the
contours of his face.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT20jLwTYseGKtfLlupbkbf4sPTlxb0oIQhcB3qs8ToaGrE02TiQz5jIwtD8oCigifz1UBfCpO-NgC4so_gubylz6Tufkl165n1GMDVVyr9SrX9IJpKgnQh-PIhEjsHZ_yYTStXAGSy9E/s1600/219.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT20jLwTYseGKtfLlupbkbf4sPTlxb0oIQhcB3qs8ToaGrE02TiQz5jIwtD8oCigifz1UBfCpO-NgC4so_gubylz6Tufkl165n1GMDVVyr9SrX9IJpKgnQh-PIhEjsHZ_yYTStXAGSy9E/s1600/219.19.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He
is no longer of this world,” the Keeper confirmed, its voice dark and ominous.
The sound sent shivers down Chantia’s spine. The being in front of her was no
one’s friend. “Remaining here will only disrupt the Balance further.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Chantia clenched her eyes shut in grief,
accepting the Keeper’s words. She wasn’t going to argue with a force of nature.
When she opened her eyes again her husband was standing beside the Keeper, as
insubstantial as the ghosts she had known her entire life.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib04Tk6LeBDFOHjzKSANTnERuYGb7dWd4kJBLp758ZHFA40POZPpiFNOji2pB_ueMMtXYsRTPPGNaF6vRw6XCvA4z_WAo5T127IMq5Zq4Bk6hFce6zorXEheBYT3bM_V-Jrd5d-r9aW4E/s1600/219.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib04Tk6LeBDFOHjzKSANTnERuYGb7dWd4kJBLp758ZHFA40POZPpiFNOji2pB_ueMMtXYsRTPPGNaF6vRw6XCvA4z_WAo5T127IMq5Zq4Bk6hFce6zorXEheBYT3bM_V-Jrd5d-r9aW4E/s1600/219.20.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> For the last time in her life, Chantia
embraced her husband. She gripped him as hard as she could, trying to hold onto
his presence for as long as possible. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNWb8O8VLkQM9QyHJo9OUm-O00fYbvoLVflvlcXq9Vss9qHUHSRhHIv8O1ARthxjrSwEh9TubxNyRYrwuEPA7Ah8RQGbjv4wsg-8SOcRpaMoTLhpDQieas2TQwZF0WX1fW93VvOed3RE/s1600/219.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNWb8O8VLkQM9QyHJo9OUm-O00fYbvoLVflvlcXq9Vss9qHUHSRhHIv8O1ARthxjrSwEh9TubxNyRYrwuEPA7Ah8RQGbjv4wsg-8SOcRpaMoTLhpDQieas2TQwZF0WX1fW93VvOed3RE/s1600/219.21.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Far, far too soon he pulled away, gazing at
her with eyes that were no longer that beautiful vibrant blue she had fallen in
love with so long ago. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Take care of yourself,” he requested
softly, his heart in his eyes. His eyes were no longer that vibrant blue, but
Chantia could still read the emotion in them with ease. “And please, tell the
children I love them. And tell Renard that it’s not his fault.”</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgKo2qXoIGe-FHpN8iZqGOQSGUTIB8xpmACbfOMJ0Locj2oqiztj2C34TmcRYo5T7G14m3ziRop-ZoHz-lYj-D5eWkvzbFUpwgoKcfWWLlu1oh1cwXly686MTqDMcx6d4zr7ixxbmdYw/s1600/219.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgKo2qXoIGe-FHpN8iZqGOQSGUTIB8xpmACbfOMJ0Locj2oqiztj2C34TmcRYo5T7G14m3ziRop-ZoHz-lYj-D5eWkvzbFUpwgoKcfWWLlu1oh1cwXly686MTqDMcx6d4zr7ixxbmdYw/s1600/219.22.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She bit her lip in grief and nodded,
realising it was the last request she would get from him in her life. He gave
her one last kiss in farewell and with it he confirmed all the emotions she had
read so easily from his eyes. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Then he was gone, and the only thing
Chantia was left with was an empty pit of grief.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She almost didn’t even notice when the
Keeper appeared beside her, looming ominously over her.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsqIfsAep-B44V9E7HxO-MWKD9n18Qxc85py0ooSahyphenhyphenaLuHhyphenhyphenhhUne07q_JfeBzL9UzOh6oXLTwlho3WJ-VF3rbavX7qPNDBVYnw6nsL9i6_CEWXKIESWXOISRBx6gXLmoV9oXj86RtA/s1600/219.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsqIfsAep-B44V9E7HxO-MWKD9n18Qxc85py0ooSahyphenhyphenaLuHhyphenhyphenhhUne07q_JfeBzL9UzOh6oXLTwlho3WJ-VF3rbavX7qPNDBVYnw6nsL9i6_CEWXKIESWXOISRBx6gXLmoV9oXj86RtA/s1600/219.23.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Before
I go, I will give you a word of warning,” the Keeper informed her. She almost
didn’t hear the words that followed, so caught up in her grief she was, but
once her mind registered the words she felt like she was doused in ice-cold
water. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You have meddled with things that were not
yours to interfere with, human. You have altered the Balance. Your actions and
the actions of your kin have caused an anomaly to exist, and the Balance cannot
handle anomalies. There’s a price to be paid, and it is you and yours that will
have to pay that price.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It took Chantia a moment to realise what
the Keeper was talking about, but when she did the blood drained from her face.
Those experiments with the Damned. There really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were </i>some things better left untouched.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> What
have we done?</span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4oMQtLdIs_OBK3aHcCXJmSOTZ12PhRncztlybLmP3gVA95XXgMdfnsg9GGkK4Ak5ZUaPCJbAz6TVhsuqFCPd7anc0b3uNbEcYTukUxF5-_S640JtA94HA6SqWKo88p_9Hxt7MB66Q9k/s1600/219.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4oMQtLdIs_OBK3aHcCXJmSOTZ12PhRncztlybLmP3gVA95XXgMdfnsg9GGkK4Ak5ZUaPCJbAz6TVhsuqFCPd7anc0b3uNbEcYTukUxF5-_S640JtA94HA6SqWKo88p_9Hxt7MB66Q9k/s1600/219.24.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_ </span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_21" o:spid="_x0000_i1040" style="height: 239.4pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 425.4pt;" type="#_x0000_t75"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span><v:imagedata o:title="219.25" src="file:///C:\Users\Anri\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image025.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></v:imagedata></v:shape></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVaxbxNcFmekYtVPWU1lCZ6mKFdztdXHU-cQBOh7oJrzP4n9Ngw9AnjCJBHUCnnc5YLZGsDIIMMUmEG_yUVtndv-wPzUES0mNe-1iXOBydtf6wgQI0q9-Xtzs9RfMVJFvg5UKca4CJCM/s1600/219.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVaxbxNcFmekYtVPWU1lCZ6mKFdztdXHU-cQBOh7oJrzP4n9Ngw9AnjCJBHUCnnc5YLZGsDIIMMUmEG_yUVtndv-wPzUES0mNe-1iXOBydtf6wgQI0q9-Xtzs9RfMVJFvg5UKca4CJCM/s1600/219.25.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant
facing reality, and Lyra wasn’t ready to face reality just yet. She wasn’t sure
she ever <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would</i> be. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was the day of her dad’s funeral. It was
the day she had to accept the fact that he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gone </i>and that she would never ever see him again. It was the day
she would have to say good-bye to him for good.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really
</i>wasn’t ready for that.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> There was a knock on her door. She didn’t
respond, unable to summon the strength. It was probably her mother, coming to
inform her it was time to go.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wjojh8iwAM3SLt3AbCumAdFSoTekhcpsPtUgTripFTacQj2217GtR2RjRhqUsYTsf4ozVFzKSK_Xqkv62vzH0CHUyEsyUSHCtZ93fMFjU3Kx0KjE5LKbDyd2BLxQTN8DxbxSezG2hhk/s1600/219.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wjojh8iwAM3SLt3AbCumAdFSoTekhcpsPtUgTripFTacQj2217GtR2RjRhqUsYTsf4ozVFzKSK_Xqkv62vzH0CHUyEsyUSHCtZ93fMFjU3Kx0KjE5LKbDyd2BLxQTN8DxbxSezG2hhk/s1600/219.26.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra?”
her sister’s voice broke the silence in the room. She glanced up, staring
numbly at her sister. Arienne was wearing black; just like the dress she
herself would have to put on soon. The colour didn’t fit Arienne, at all. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Her mascara was slightly smudged.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Lyra, we have to go soon,” Arienne tried
to coax the younger girl out of bed. She still didn’t want to get up, but with
Arienne in the room she could no longer pretend that time wasn’t passing. As if
on auto-pilot, she got up and allowed Arienne to help her put on that black
dress she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> didn’t want to wear.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEeJk7UXvjcNXuVVDmTH6OoK17hVhLRR7EiHPuQWYNGF553gakDHkPLV7W_WO_yQ6PicKTyT77Gyzfd4vhYp38RiCYBBO-CrOPzcD7lNP0gRQ6MnTbJE6aO4Ftr8mxCjklJC6mclBSsw/s1600/219.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEeJk7UXvjcNXuVVDmTH6OoK17hVhLRR7EiHPuQWYNGF553gakDHkPLV7W_WO_yQ6PicKTyT77Gyzfd4vhYp38RiCYBBO-CrOPzcD7lNP0gRQ6MnTbJE6aO4Ftr8mxCjklJC6mclBSsw/s1600/219.27.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Downstairs, Renard was waiting for them.
The scar on his cheek stared vividly at them, reminding Lyra of the reality of
the day even more than the black dress or Arienne’s smudged mascara did. In the
corner of her eye, she noticed Arienne jerk her gaze away, unwilling to look at
the reason their dad was gone. Lyra herself was having difficulty looking at
her brother. She was still uncertain what to do with the feelings of hate and
anger she felt whenever she looked at him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why
</i>hadn’t he listened to her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>? </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWGxu3szFM-oNLUMpzQJUHKrXJLQgUBZSRqfS-5UrSvryDI6sX2owcRbNsipSFsV1Et7qPI0PAab7DfbnJK-RZ7HOiAfiPB1Ar97ck8SodUcawdrPGV0LEtlYrdRmQI3zVFFqfrHe5ys/s1600/219.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWGxu3szFM-oNLUMpzQJUHKrXJLQgUBZSRqfS-5UrSvryDI6sX2owcRbNsipSFsV1Et7qPI0PAab7DfbnJK-RZ7HOiAfiPB1Ar97ck8SodUcawdrPGV0LEtlYrdRmQI3zVFFqfrHe5ys/s1600/219.28.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The stereo was off. The only sound in the
room was the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. The sound was normally
almost undetectable, but with the tension hanging in the air it sounded almost
amplified. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was just enough to drive Arienne over
the edge.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “This is all your fault,” she whispered
bitterly, still unwilling to look at Renard. He flinched heavily at the
piercing accusation, his shoulders hunching even more. He didn’t even try to
deny the accusation: perhaps he was caught up too far in his guilt, entangled
too deep in his self-hatred.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPgsytyYVxwfL33PUj30w1DMrmwAzvh7hc9kAiyIr-9fkzaBpy41NHuRPz3Z27AaJPY65TmbozcxD-5FQuYr816Q-4m80BZukfPE0obwNUlA4Hoi16xJAGzEtZESozm3mHR_rxP6hcbE/s1600/219.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPgsytyYVxwfL33PUj30w1DMrmwAzvh7hc9kAiyIr-9fkzaBpy41NHuRPz3Z27AaJPY65TmbozcxD-5FQuYr816Q-4m80BZukfPE0obwNUlA4Hoi16xJAGzEtZESozm3mHR_rxP6hcbE/s1600/219.29.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If
you hadn’t…he would still have been alive, you know?” Arienne continued lashing
into Renard. “If you had only listened to him when he told you to stay inside
after dark, this whole mess could’ve been avoided. But because everything in
your damn world revolves only around you, I suppose you thought you were
beneath his requests. Well, guess what? He’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dead </i>Renard, and it’s all because of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> selfishness and the fact that you never bother to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> about the consequences of your
actions. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is all your fault</i>.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMphVu5BlJpuTyWK0M98PTv3pikaTzx6XkoionBkns238PMpkowlfpgkKAOf6KLL7gzGs0gBCJyuLb1tcyA8iRso8TZKH8YQC3Y5YTgijSnSmPRdi_lqKuHFqNSzzy6ebwDPLdELzrZw/s1600/219.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMphVu5BlJpuTyWK0M98PTv3pikaTzx6XkoionBkns238PMpkowlfpgkKAOf6KLL7gzGs0gBCJyuLb1tcyA8iRso8TZKH8YQC3Y5YTgijSnSmPRdi_lqKuHFqNSzzy6ebwDPLdELzrZw/s1600/219.30.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stop
it!</i>” their mother demanded furiously, having heard Arienne’s accusations as
she came down the stairs. Arienne immediately clamped up, but the damage had
already been done. Words spoken in anger could never be taken back. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I know, alright?” Renard retorted angrily,
completely ignoring his mother. “Believe me, I know. I have the nightmares and
this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">f*cking</i> scar to remind me every
damn day of my life. You’re not the only one who loved him, you know. At least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> don’t have to see him get killed
every time you close your eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get over
yourself, Arienne</i>.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stop
it, both of you!</i>” their mother demanded again, and Lyra found herself
agreeing with her mother. Seeing her siblings fight wasn’t an unusual
occurrence, but the ferocity of this one scared her. This was the kind of fight
that tore families apart.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzjlg_JqamiytKjIHHJWWmqv9VREWir1eV1sKa4-6o_n1cbwTbqhvKCwJa3O_GkP4efBoEVPnNxJiS6by9lWaotm2DBDiZ_cRMw-TNEC_WfesmA2uX2qruxDsDnrknWAR7HNsikiP8HU/s1600/219.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzjlg_JqamiytKjIHHJWWmqv9VREWir1eV1sKa4-6o_n1cbwTbqhvKCwJa3O_GkP4efBoEVPnNxJiS6by9lWaotm2DBDiZ_cRMw-TNEC_WfesmA2uX2qruxDsDnrknWAR7HNsikiP8HU/s1600/219.31.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> They continued glaring at each other until
Arienne nailed the final nail in the coffin. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I will never, ever forgive you. I hope you
rot in hell.” With that she spun on her heel and marched out of the house.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02RKj_hXQSGLAMdQ7abqHUOVragyzvf0wtJDFc6ZIlTuUwctOtrGB5Y4-H5z4oaVo8Pw-miARWDYwyRAVGtuV9o4FKlnjC0jfciQ4CLFS9MsqwqgJEsxO82fgrJkuMCL5aLJCaNwa3Wo/s1600/219.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02RKj_hXQSGLAMdQ7abqHUOVragyzvf0wtJDFc6ZIlTuUwctOtrGB5Y4-H5z4oaVo8Pw-miARWDYwyRAVGtuV9o4FKlnjC0jfciQ4CLFS9MsqwqgJEsxO82fgrJkuMCL5aLJCaNwa3Wo/s1600/219.32.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The rest of the day was incredibly
uncomfortable. The snow continued to fall for almost the entire day, causing the
day to be bitterly cold, and the ground hard and slippery. The funeral itself
was a very small event, with only the people closest to the family in
attendance. Renard and Arienne stood as far away from each other as possible
and when everything was over, Arienne left without even saying goodbye. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNspnBWcKWeLqUrmkyAmEYv9usuRVXaCYKh7-1PYHuM58fXDpRRD_Y-hBFtjMAajPxNeWCy7B_qQ-HEwypDRw87PNRJAIwjuD2a1GGgWRIkP-0u38hJx1gQscjQY17p809UbXqha0dDb0/s1600/219.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNspnBWcKWeLqUrmkyAmEYv9usuRVXaCYKh7-1PYHuM58fXDpRRD_Y-hBFtjMAajPxNeWCy7B_qQ-HEwypDRw87PNRJAIwjuD2a1GGgWRIkP-0u38hJx1gQscjQY17p809UbXqha0dDb0/s1600/219.33.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Two months later she got married. She
didn’t invite Renard; in fact, she went as far as to adamantly insist that she
didn’t want him at her wedding, and that she would chase him away if he
bothered to pitch up. Renard responded by saying that he didn’t want to go in
anyway, and that he would be more than happy to never see her again. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was then that Lyra realised her family
was irreparably broken. It was inevitable, really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the face of tragedy, people either grew
closer together, or further apart. There had been no hope for her family from
the start. After all, it had been the very centre point of their family who had
been taken from them.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The point was only driven further in when
Renard declared he was going to leave the house.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9YqKlKKxuyY5bPxRZY4W4VgEiGl9xsBnTWYzQ4GDb-pyaPbTA8nFmrpRrgLnvhrNWxmUzONNV8G819dnR3DrsiT0KMnqSskAxp-CeEmsQymnDvS3bRpQVJsS9vHEy5q8UW1aHbNXQJc/s1600/219.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9YqKlKKxuyY5bPxRZY4W4VgEiGl9xsBnTWYzQ4GDb-pyaPbTA8nFmrpRrgLnvhrNWxmUzONNV8G819dnR3DrsiT0KMnqSskAxp-CeEmsQymnDvS3bRpQVJsS9vHEy5q8UW1aHbNXQJc/s1600/219.34.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m
moving out,” Renard announced in a subdued tone. The months since their dad had
died had been difficult for all of them, but Lyra had noticed that it had been
the worst for him. Like he had told Arienne the day of the funeral, he suffered
from endless nightmares of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that night</i>.
Even months later, the nightmares hadn’t diminished. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I can’t…there are too many memories. I’m
going to go mad if I stay here any longer.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Their mom kept quiet, her hands folded in
her lap. The clock hanging on the wall tick-tocked the minutes away. The stereo
was on, but it was a different station that played. Neither of them could bear
to listen to the music their dad had used to listen to.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0-IuR8SOJ1vOwvtYAwR2s0KO7H-45J9vXY5XWASP7By58A9Uh0lqfaYpClPXYdYxZIwOZobdJ31rbkKKPmURm1cyRAjtokOeCBC-HXOYr-6fEhpuMzIHybNK3wBRhaSmu9XTNNKFWDo/s1600/219.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0-IuR8SOJ1vOwvtYAwR2s0KO7H-45J9vXY5XWASP7By58A9Uh0lqfaYpClPXYdYxZIwOZobdJ31rbkKKPmURm1cyRAjtokOeCBC-HXOYr-6fEhpuMzIHybNK3wBRhaSmu9XTNNKFWDo/s1600/219.35.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The lingering memories weren’t the only
reason Renard wanted to move out, Lyra knew. More than the memories, he wanted
to get away from the void; from the empty place at the dinner table that would
never ever be filled again, and most of all, he wanted to get away from the
knowledge that he was the reason that empty place existed. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You know what happened wasn’t your fault,
right?” their mother broached the true reason behind Renard’s sudden decision.
Renard ducked his head and looked away, the action speaking louder than words
that he didn’t believe her. To be honest, Lyra kind of agreed with him. Their
mother kept insisting it wasn’t Renard’s fault, but if he wasn’t to blame, then
who was?</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3U-0PUBjLgpkjOUDpYjCV7q3celFcI_X_wQlCBVic-V8yQF7Ax2WZcDd9TXbpAZFV3-gEhJWo15LHle0Sm3Utfya8YTlwZggWNbWIIe4x7K_P8wlBNxScJVCKUZq6QB_kNNkoMtGOxQ/s1600/219.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3U-0PUBjLgpkjOUDpYjCV7q3celFcI_X_wQlCBVic-V8yQF7Ax2WZcDd9TXbpAZFV3-gEhJWo15LHle0Sm3Utfya8YTlwZggWNbWIIe4x7K_P8wlBNxScJVCKUZq6QB_kNNkoMtGOxQ/s1600/219.36.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Their mom sighed at Renard’s non-verbal
answer. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “If you truly believe it’s for the best,
then I won’t stop you,” she finally replied to the original statement. “But you
will always be welcome here, no matter what. Whatever happens, know that you
will always have a home here.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I know,” Renard replied a very soft, very
subdued voice.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The next morning he was gone, and the last
of that familiar, comforting warmth Lyra had associated with ‘home’ was gone
with him.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XbmOOWJsov3h2qXM0ZXIYbwEo_hJQCr_4hclppoHCwScx9H-BFgfSYjwnHV0n5lxxolRxQFo0YZ0Xjf9K-2donymfZhqkRwuH85LA6MfSoWZdfYBMgYEsDxCicGg4b6d_WWfgifSYEU/s1600/219.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XbmOOWJsov3h2qXM0ZXIYbwEo_hJQCr_4hclppoHCwScx9H-BFgfSYjwnHV0n5lxxolRxQFo0YZ0Xjf9K-2donymfZhqkRwuH85LA6MfSoWZdfYBMgYEsDxCicGg4b6d_WWfgifSYEU/s1600/219.37.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do
you…do you really not blame him?” Lyra asked her mother uncomfortably. Renard
was the reason their dad was dead. Lyra had tried to look at the situation from
several angles, but each time she drew the same conclusion: if Renard hadn’t
gone out that night their dad would still be alive. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cFIhgnz8Q9t9DzHocs2CMpcJocGH20hSWFTFIz6gvPaGRsJqnoFOMPK3Ve8CftN76I6HNZ9i7eVW0E8YKCW6sDUR_xvL39k2NmXXNKkArxNdQFvJTrxnEjpkbaqiGjrr_6sW4fHG6MU/s1600/219.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cFIhgnz8Q9t9DzHocs2CMpcJocGH20hSWFTFIz6gvPaGRsJqnoFOMPK3Ve8CftN76I6HNZ9i7eVW0E8YKCW6sDUR_xvL39k2NmXXNKkArxNdQFvJTrxnEjpkbaqiGjrr_6sW4fHG6MU/s1600/219.38.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No
I don’t,” her mom answered simply. “Valeri was the kind of person who would’ve
stopped at nothing to hurt your father. If Renard hadn’t gone out that night,
she would’ve simply waited until she got a different opportunity; one that
could’ve ended a lot worse.” She shook her head. “So no, I don’t blame Renard –
I blame Valeri. If she hadn’t been in the picture, Renard would’ve been able to
go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted and nothing would’ve happened to him.”
</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The answer caused Lyra to grow silent in
thought. She supposed what her mother said was true, but that still didn’t mean
Renard was blameless. If he hadn’t gone out…</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrmVCybJbjj2ksWefXPch3WWkvAdS53ZkkCAlFIfTLWfXWHardwQl0IqPkq2hyphenhyphenEGyP0FLzwWX9mbcwwmIvdq_ZXkNS95UrcxlCdC7sc9MKkNWDAVx4Jwdw-hH7lUATFcMfYufywmQtHU/s1600/219.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrmVCybJbjj2ksWefXPch3WWkvAdS53ZkkCAlFIfTLWfXWHardwQl0IqPkq2hyphenhyphenEGyP0FLzwWX9mbcwwmIvdq_ZXkNS95UrcxlCdC7sc9MKkNWDAVx4Jwdw-hH7lUATFcMfYufywmQtHU/s1600/219.39.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of
course, it doesn’t mean that what Renard did was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right</i>,” her mother continued, “but his only crime was not listening
to us. He doesn’t deserve the punishment he’s going through right now. What
happened wasn’t his fault, but he will always blame himself. It’s a burden he’s
going to carry for the rest of his life.” She gave Lyra a sidelong glance. “So
please,” she requested, “don’t be too hard on him.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"> I’m
not the one hard on him,</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> Lyra thought. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Arienne is.</i> But she didn’t say anything,
because it wasn’t her mother who needed to hear it, but her sister. Except, of
course, Arienne was so damn stubborn, she wouldn’t listen at all.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhYA4pNh5cV89nwIksvBQj1s64QsnhsKeEoba-sNkfS8WBrDB9bVkbxD0j-PDvzz7LpoavtEIHUbvG93TKTAJWbqO7lG2rZBn44mCS_yJOss6-ZcefQ14QIs2F6wxPStUqL-hhYWI9II/s1600/219.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhYA4pNh5cV89nwIksvBQj1s64QsnhsKeEoba-sNkfS8WBrDB9bVkbxD0j-PDvzz7LpoavtEIHUbvG93TKTAJWbqO7lG2rZBn44mCS_yJOss6-ZcefQ14QIs2F6wxPStUqL-hhYWI9II/s1600/219.40.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-no-proof: yes;">
</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Her family had become a massive mess, and
she had absolutely no idea how to fix it. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Could things possibly get any worse?</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">A/N: Yes Lyra, things can get worse. Now
stop tempting your Watcher. >_<</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway. Busy chapter, and not exactly the
happiest one ever. I guess now isn’t a good time to mention I’m not a terribly
big fan of happy endings? I find the Couple roll a little boring, so this whole
generation was my attempt at showing that even the normally-happy roll of
Couple isn’t always safe. I enjoyed this generation a lot, but I’m ready for
the next one to start. I have great plans for Lyra. :D</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Also, since this chapter doesn’t contain a
good shot of adult Renard, here he is:</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNojK5nHqqO-zERDETO_iRR07rIvpTCvOHwGBmd16Gh3ozc1TBZxrR5r0fRxGLyClGVG9eVGw8PFfLV-yUgTQXTmSWszTr4IU1v5DDda3ZwEY5dhvPoaqfKPKL2MAlmZZKFmCL-PQFpo/s1600/219.Bonus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNojK5nHqqO-zERDETO_iRR07rIvpTCvOHwGBmd16Gh3ozc1TBZxrR5r0fRxGLyClGVG9eVGw8PFfLV-yUgTQXTmSWszTr4IU1v5DDda3ZwEY5dhvPoaqfKPKL2MAlmZZKFmCL-PQFpo/s1600/219.Bonus.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not much of a change from teen though. :/ He'll be up for grabs soon.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-5351728939446870762015-02-07T08:01:00.001+02:002015-02-07T08:01:27.484+02:00Chapter 2.18 - Cold & Alone<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warning:
slight language (and one crude gesture). </span></span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
suggest listening to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIrt5MkGpy0" target="_blank">this song</a> while reading this chapter.</span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She hated school. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hated </i>it. It was always the same thing over and over: boring classes,
boring teachers and boring people, talking about boring topics. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> What a bunch of idiots.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFRhuf8VgS7qOdsp7x6ZJVgnESvw3_TWOcLy5xc7Ibow4IMdkzxH6F6BeXj8zkgAEnBSMt72nvhDid5HR3Fwx1Opqwq52zDZKf6ylDfHj8KA4bzGlFkbEsQR6wgHkCqh-vRzFpgXmud4I/s1600/218.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFRhuf8VgS7qOdsp7x6ZJVgnESvw3_TWOcLy5xc7Ibow4IMdkzxH6F6BeXj8zkgAEnBSMt72nvhDid5HR3Fwx1Opqwq52zDZKf6ylDfHj8KA4bzGlFkbEsQR6wgHkCqh-vRzFpgXmud4I/s1600/218.01.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She hated them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All </i>of them. If she never had to see any of them ever again, she’d
be happy. But life didn’t work that way, and she was still stuck with them for
at least another couple of years. It made her envious of her siblings. Arienne
was already done with school and Renard…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he
</i>only had a couple of months left. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> So damn lucky.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbIuLMaEfdavhSMTnFsZFHxe4ah9GSH2s7X21G2WnMHy2DKawtd10cAhZqHK_KIxqsCVpFRe7DUWDAN_HoiMZhf98ozqnREYjP05BiBZuxQpUKDsg_-xC_tqDe7LKMjjm7JN4oHLrCxc/s1600/218.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbIuLMaEfdavhSMTnFsZFHxe4ah9GSH2s7X21G2WnMHy2DKawtd10cAhZqHK_KIxqsCVpFRe7DUWDAN_HoiMZhf98ozqnREYjP05BiBZuxQpUKDsg_-xC_tqDe7LKMjjm7JN4oHLrCxc/s1600/218.02.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Behind her, she could hear the girls at the
other table snigger. She didn’t even need to turn around to know they were
laughing at her. She simply walked away, doing her best to ignore them. It
wasn’t that difficult; she’d had enough practice. She refused to give them the
satisfaction of knowing just how much it bothered her. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hated
</i>being a teenager. She hated school, she hated the people around her, and
she hated the expectations society had suddenly placed on her. Go to school, get
a boyfriend, graduate, get a job, get married, have children.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> What a boring existence.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fLRyX-BrPRX0h_0hJMV6q0NK-WBj10sWgLE0WWz9onPLuCF8xcZrdtHtqU7j-QOBfyMb1TC3GzIYvF1IiA4Bfe8u0bnB9axl0deIfat4ySswNVdm8hyYYGT92s3dxrHUnyElpzDeFkY/s1600/218.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fLRyX-BrPRX0h_0hJMV6q0NK-WBj10sWgLE0WWz9onPLuCF8xcZrdtHtqU7j-QOBfyMb1TC3GzIYvF1IiA4Bfe8u0bnB9axl0deIfat4ySswNVdm8hyYYGT92s3dxrHUnyElpzDeFkY/s1600/218.03.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, Arienne didn’t share her
sentiments <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all</i>. In fact, her
sister thrived on those expectations. She only had two things left on the list
to achieve, and she was well on her way to do it, having gotten engaged to her
high school sweet-heart just two weeks previously. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> How unbelievably freakin’ boring. Was that
all people ever did? How many people even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bothered</i>
to look for someone else, instead of just settling down with the person they
dated in high school? She didn’t want that. Surely there was more to life than
such an utterly boring existence?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3Ag13x4QXujCjSalebpbM7Zhc6MECbukSSpKDnukOB7At3o2N0oqe9rGaI5HKzTNdoeodtfSs-tHJSMa0wkC-nk1DIKfA4pNQE31EOKesZonQHEkHEAfO2wufZz0YEmfdudc5Am6IVM/s1600/218.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3Ag13x4QXujCjSalebpbM7Zhc6MECbukSSpKDnukOB7At3o2N0oqe9rGaI5HKzTNdoeodtfSs-tHJSMa0wkC-nk1DIKfA4pNQE31EOKesZonQHEkHEAfO2wufZz0YEmfdudc5Am6IVM/s1600/218.04.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe…maybe it wasn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">life </i>that was boring. Maybe it was just life in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sunset Valley</i>. Maybe it would be a good
idea to leave the town when she was done with school. Maybe then she’d find
somewhere she’d belong. She loved her family, but…family wasn’t enough.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2oIn3coJTVL0zmzOhnd4Q_IljSHTMG3UMaBKYYtEshWgsqTwSNdrpS8Ct-SlH-G6g8KXAH-IlK7sywF4lnpz13sMYwD33kUiVbHTlsQyS-RiGWd0tjEgGtcMezyvi5FpI6t3xl91r8Bs/s1600/218.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2oIn3coJTVL0zmzOhnd4Q_IljSHTMG3UMaBKYYtEshWgsqTwSNdrpS8Ct-SlH-G6g8KXAH-IlK7sywF4lnpz13sMYwD33kUiVbHTlsQyS-RiGWd0tjEgGtcMezyvi5FpI6t3xl91r8Bs/s1600/218.05.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was almost dark by the time she finally
returned home. The lights were already on, its familiar glow welcoming her to
enter the comforting warmth of her house; warmth that only her family had ever
been able to give her. Through the glass she could see her dad and Renard
talking and for a moment, just a moment, she felt like a stranger looking in. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiBQHFnPQcBoaspI11ETlvxRkEeri7H83Q1cJNazZBZ67DjlZIDDdNd2am3sVBqR-HAavxaTq0-03Sg1Tp8LjviTw3Zr7gpgRwXSoOcueNIwpkQwaudxq1g3w5aXP2cCjYrWN_Vz9lL18/s1600/218.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiBQHFnPQcBoaspI11ETlvxRkEeri7H83Q1cJNazZBZ67DjlZIDDdNd2am3sVBqR-HAavxaTq0-03Sg1Tp8LjviTw3Zr7gpgRwXSoOcueNIwpkQwaudxq1g3w5aXP2cCjYrWN_Vz9lL18/s1600/218.06.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">But then she opened the door and her dad
turned to her with a welcoming smile on his face and that irrational feeling of
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not belonging </i>faded away like mist
before the sun. She was home. In spite of the presence of the ghosts, it was
the only place she had ever belonged. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Everything alright?” her dad asked her
softly, pulling her into a half-sided hug. If it had been someone else asking
her, she knew she would’ve given them some kind of flippant reply, but it was
her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dad</i>. He was the only person she
couldn’t treat indifferently. If there was one thing she knew she shared with
Renard, it was that she didn’t want to disappoint her dad.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmEbb_tcYQdN6WR5QkaJIHnztYsxl7iop_iVkvgVG00QaG_23c1cyTS6XQ6PiooxDqFH7ttH9_o6SGszsLlS5tvppwDmQReAigWCB1pzR1nUj43tdbcLeYJ8V4k9bjalrjNi_z19pEe0/s1600/218.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmEbb_tcYQdN6WR5QkaJIHnztYsxl7iop_iVkvgVG00QaG_23c1cyTS6XQ6PiooxDqFH7ttH9_o6SGszsLlS5tvppwDmQReAigWCB1pzR1nUj43tdbcLeYJ8V4k9bjalrjNi_z19pEe0/s1600/218.07.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just
tired,” she answered him softly. Her dad gave her shoulder another squeeze,
wordlessly informing her that he knew something else was bothering her, but
that it didn’t matter and that he’d support her no matter what it was. After
all the crap she got at school, it was incredibly liberating. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I’m here if you ever want to talk,” her
dad assured her with a gentle smile, immediately causing her spirits to lift.
She gave him a grateful smile and bounded up the stairs to her room, feeling
carefree for the first time that day. When she went to sleep that night, it was
with the knowledge that she wasn’t alone.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggptp1_3ONhWPHWzfa8wqz4mLtTZNUu2t-4nvWdc3OiMSxsIXp-RS0Nck9EDKr74GIpTEVw9pRTC2tUYSLjFCo1kGW22tv_nTEloFoCs9_Z7tVVVlOQX8xc6pYHU5WuruEmDEH9MV8Ac/s1600/218.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggptp1_3ONhWPHWzfa8wqz4mLtTZNUu2t-4nvWdc3OiMSxsIXp-RS0Nck9EDKr74GIpTEVw9pRTC2tUYSLjFCo1kGW22tv_nTEloFoCs9_Z7tVVVlOQX8xc6pYHU5WuruEmDEH9MV8Ac/s1600/218.08.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">But time was a fickle thing, and it wasn’t
long before her entire world got turned on its head.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FVXOuf38FOk-yUGQ3w8tJpmyqgkpiBv0QJbrP05NRAugp9f6Z0xB_6023ZkwHz-fGTcPX9uaS5dD2R-uxGAtLsQZ5yDOaa32xLCV_9rc77c8qez2M6uYmPzkGdowCX2boCI5IlWh23M/s1600/218.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FVXOuf38FOk-yUGQ3w8tJpmyqgkpiBv0QJbrP05NRAugp9f6Z0xB_6023ZkwHz-fGTcPX9uaS5dD2R-uxGAtLsQZ5yDOaa32xLCV_9rc77c8qez2M6uYmPzkGdowCX2boCI5IlWh23M/s1600/218.09.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lyra,
are you listening to a word I’m saying? You’re the one who asked me to explain
this stuff,” Renard interrupted his sister’s boredom-induced trance. She
scowled at him, immediately irritated that he interrupted her thoughts. She
couldn’t help not focusing on Renard’s explanation. He was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">terrible </i>at explaining things. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Yeah, sure, whatever,” she replied
flippantly. Renard scowled and threw down his pen in exasperation, giving Lyra
the reaction she was looking for. She was itching for a fight; had been itching
for the entire week. Renard was just the perfect excuse to not hold back
anymore.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Why do you even bother asking me for help
if you don’t wanna listen?” he snapped at her, finally losing his patience.
Lyra glared at him and opened her mouth to retort –</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26DVn77g3WrCj3xi0hl0nonN5d9gcKFa7grm8S2IQTmdMj7I7oiRBobOsZCxq2Q9S4N9QmUkDlMqxdb82ehFdFa_GEKgYzAkLwacf4tRb2J8ORh9DdnIdmEyga55XGleYhXFbqi5ZH5w/s1600/218.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26DVn77g3WrCj3xi0hl0nonN5d9gcKFa7grm8S2IQTmdMj7I7oiRBobOsZCxq2Q9S4N9QmUkDlMqxdb82ehFdFa_GEKgYzAkLwacf4tRb2J8ORh9DdnIdmEyga55XGleYhXFbqi5ZH5w/s1600/218.10.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Children,
if you’re going to fight, do you mind doing it where I can’t hear you?” their
dad mildly rebuked them, clearly on edge, as evident by the slight scowl on his
face. His words instantly stopped the fight, causing the two teens to shift uncomfortably.
Their dad almost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>grew impatient
with them. It just didn’t happen. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> For a moment the teens just stared at their
dad, completely caught off guard, but then his words caught up to them and they
both mumbled an apology, the fledging fight completely forgotten. Even so, a
slight tension remained hanging over them.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8uxa3ylqBylFzKTX9RGQMbsD-gX11A5bCON5eGF_Ghq3WvTDWA_7dTIAI8xR8innAbEab9Qg3D0V5DvGMfTpUE2dQrgMwL1RJZe4D51MZGK6wj2pXMXi0C5rVGom717xIiQBzO6cSCw/s1600/218.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8uxa3ylqBylFzKTX9RGQMbsD-gX11A5bCON5eGF_Ghq3WvTDWA_7dTIAI8xR8innAbEab9Qg3D0V5DvGMfTpUE2dQrgMwL1RJZe4D51MZGK6wj2pXMXi0C5rVGom717xIiQBzO6cSCw/s1600/218.11.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Uhm,
is something wrong, dad?” Renard hesitantly enquired after a while; when the
silence grew too profound for his comfort. Their dad sighed and rubbed the
bridge of his nose and for a moment Lyra was sure he wouldn’t answer them, but
that notion was quickly dispelled. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I just received some troubling news,
that’s all,” he answered them tiredly. “It’s not a major issue, but…it is
worrying.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeO9dlftY7EXSLfUfBbQeJusNb-MgCibo6iGZsnq617ndGR66tmyvoCW-cjB-vVnYVWUogP7wqOmziJ6kyrGAMRTb6baEdrOlz4Pt9rv4E-96uKqpWRox2OV9d-EgRMUuIpMmh_Fo4Iag/s1600/218.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeO9dlftY7EXSLfUfBbQeJusNb-MgCibo6iGZsnq617ndGR66tmyvoCW-cjB-vVnYVWUogP7wqOmziJ6kyrGAMRTb6baEdrOlz4Pt9rv4E-96uKqpWRox2OV9d-EgRMUuIpMmh_Fo4Iag/s1600/218.12.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The confession was simple enough and Lyra
should’ve believed him, but the haunted look in her dad’s eyes convinced her it
was more than that. She didn’t think the news he’d received was such a minor
matter as he made it out to be. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Does this have something to do with the
attack on the police station?” Renard asked, proving himself to be a bit more
perceptive than Lyra had expected.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It was a long time before they got an
answer, and when they did, it was<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>just
half an answer.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfq4VO9OS1hFZux-JCy4oNJNoRk26nDl9yZN5qwF7bb97EE0dTXGeqN_oVAf_7eVSRjRq_OW0dGBS3YsVjflKROvVOWPFpauyfxE04FRKXaknVGBi8LUZVX67F9ZSiYZ5apAUa5ddVVY/s1600/218.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfq4VO9OS1hFZux-JCy4oNJNoRk26nDl9yZN5qwF7bb97EE0dTXGeqN_oVAf_7eVSRjRq_OW0dGBS3YsVjflKROvVOWPFpauyfxE04FRKXaknVGBi8LUZVX67F9ZSiYZ5apAUa5ddVVY/s1600/218.13.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Just…be careful, okay?” their dad
requested tiredly. “Try not to go anywhere alone, and try to be back here
before it gets dark. I’m probably worrying about nothing, but…I think I’ll be
more at ease if the two of you do this for me.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> It wasn’t an order, but in Lyra’s eyes it
just as well might have been. It was disconcerting to see her dad so ill at
ease. She chafed at the restrictions placed on her, but she knew she’d obey
them nonetheless, even if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>take
away her freedom slightly. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In the end, it turned out her dad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hadn’t</i> been worried about nothing, but
by the time they found that out, it was already too late.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJuA1h7dwU6ljS1O3uv4o5G8kFfJuNFWWJ58sv1e2x4GzDCFJnJZATlEnSyUPw2vOiQ1H_PmuCQA8miy8IRdo_Xl8RS9xG3aA4xsJWY91Nnrmb7CZktShF26haXY-VgybNpLwzG1SSM8/s1600/218.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJuA1h7dwU6ljS1O3uv4o5G8kFfJuNFWWJ58sv1e2x4GzDCFJnJZATlEnSyUPw2vOiQ1H_PmuCQA8miy8IRdo_Xl8RS9xG3aA4xsJWY91Nnrmb7CZktShF26haXY-VgybNpLwzG1SSM8/s1600/218.14.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Seriously?
You’re going out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>?” Lyra asked
incredulously, staring at her brother. “What about Dad’s request? He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asked </i>you not to go out after dark!” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Renard shrugged unconcernedly, the
nonchalant gesture infuriating Lyra. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “And Ingrid asked me to come over,” he pointed
out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, Dad won’t even
notice I’m gone. I’ll be back before him.” </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Really Renard, would it kill you to listen
for once?” Lyra once again tried to talk reason into her brother, angered
beyond reason by the way he kept brushing her off, but her pleas fell on deaf
ears. Instead he flipped her off and left the house, disappearing into the
darkness of the night. With their mom at work and their dad at a meeting with
his editor, Lyra was suddenly left completely alone, with only the ghosts to
keep her company.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-2ursZ9AOcGK9nl6F6t6oX3rb3L5xs2jR9vn4oPSPDIVEBqkgAtJ3AyVNG3TGwXF95iBbm_yvT3JmByj-emJNZSscDDrPWO-8Q4NYI_N_NhXwJfTNs7vqA-587tKZMHGBFhl-JDCAIc/s1600/218.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-2ursZ9AOcGK9nl6F6t6oX3rb3L5xs2jR9vn4oPSPDIVEBqkgAtJ3AyVNG3TGwXF95iBbm_yvT3JmByj-emJNZSscDDrPWO-8Q4NYI_N_NhXwJfTNs7vqA-587tKZMHGBFhl-JDCAIc/s1600/218.15.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">She suppressed the urge to scream. Her
stupid <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stupid </i>damn brother! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why </i>did he have to be so stubborn? Why
did he have to be so irresponsible? Why couldn’t he just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">listen</i> for once in his life? She knew why. It was because he
thought the whole damn world revolved around <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>! </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The winter-wind howled around the house,
causing her to shiver slightly. She was alone, in the one place she was never
supposed to be alone. The lights were on, but that familiar warmth Lyra
found so comforting was missing, leaving her to feel cold in a completely
inexplicable manner.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafeP9xyK4qtK01EgTfyc2Qda6UFHuOh-iG-7VgmuxFd2qArBZCyAfRInOOSprqSwvRlHIRPppyjLVnEpgVHvepDf9Dwfj9RGSx5xjLXyA5Kus_G-ukLjEKYDhan5ilyyli-YFY7_1dy0/s1600/218.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafeP9xyK4qtK01EgTfyc2Qda6UFHuOh-iG-7VgmuxFd2qArBZCyAfRInOOSprqSwvRlHIRPppyjLVnEpgVHvepDf9Dwfj9RGSx5xjLXyA5Kus_G-ukLjEKYDhan5ilyyli-YFY7_1dy0/s1600/218.16.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">On the other side of town, Chantia froze in
her steps. The Song she’d been hearing throughout her life had changed again;
suddenly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">urgently</i>. It had once again
become a dirge: one that had all blood draining from Chantia’s face. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Someone in her
family was going to die. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe6Gyy8emfWTnNHOoA_1JrcM8JoNVGhAJBS1l6Ae3LSrdIiE4JoX8DQ-cP3fnc9iKngb0TrR7ZwS2StfVYu-uOEFrwgN6X0Ij8khDsVAg2KbA1gSdY7vTtgsigrYyTESwmiewsCnevOo/s1600/218.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe6Gyy8emfWTnNHOoA_1JrcM8JoNVGhAJBS1l6Ae3LSrdIiE4JoX8DQ-cP3fnc9iKngb0TrR7ZwS2StfVYu-uOEFrwgN6X0Ij8khDsVAg2KbA1gSdY7vTtgsigrYyTESwmiewsCnevOo/s1600/218.17.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> In retrospect, it wasn’t one of the most
intelligent things Renard had ever done. There usually was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">reason </i>why he listened to his dad. His
dad didn’t often expect things from them, but when he did it was for a damn
good reason.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> How could he have forgotten that?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ5aFY-zftb1R5KFddxMs2489SpZO2ti2N8nh_sKE1p1PSkeu-xfbfEWfAblcNH66DrpAjA6Y1LaklWWdqF3Khq7d4knMGGqUmdi8c54cX9PwF9_5pX88i_5aUbujuICRmAaWrVw20G0/s1600/218.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ5aFY-zftb1R5KFddxMs2489SpZO2ti2N8nh_sKE1p1PSkeu-xfbfEWfAblcNH66DrpAjA6Y1LaklWWdqF3Khq7d4knMGGqUmdi8c54cX9PwF9_5pX88i_5aUbujuICRmAaWrVw20G0/s1600/218.18.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well,
well, aren’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>the pretty boy,” the
woman who had tied him up stated predatorily, tilting up his head slightly so
she could look at his eyes. Her hand was cold against his skin, and the
feathery way she caressed his cheek sent shivers down his spine. There was
nothing sensual about the caress. If anything, it reminded Renard of the way a
lioness would circle her prey before taking it down. The slight gleam of
insanity in her eyes did nothing to dissuade him of that notion. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> His heart thundered in his chest. There was
no mistake about it. The woman in front of him was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dangerous</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why </i>hadn’t he
listened to Lyra?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErWe_koQg1Edtq02-ig3HfDz0EHiugVqsnU27_ppRQSu2IxzCcBca22sYlNYycRlpUHqdQ5Ej4WT8gkm_o-y4-hMD6GSVbPnRSFiaQ4N1uMOPdiGjHZDoQjeP1Byp0XyILbSR0d0gkjA/s1600/218.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErWe_koQg1Edtq02-ig3HfDz0EHiugVqsnU27_ppRQSu2IxzCcBca22sYlNYycRlpUHqdQ5Ej4WT8gkm_o-y4-hMD6GSVbPnRSFiaQ4N1uMOPdiGjHZDoQjeP1Byp0XyILbSR0d0gkjA/s1600/218.19.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You
look so much like your father, don’t you?” the woman murmured softly, a
dangerous smirk playing on the corners of her mouth. She moved her hand up his
cheek and stopped at the corner of his eye, her hand lingering on his
cheekbone. “Except your eyes. You don’t have your father’s eyes.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> A flash of hate appeared in her eyes and
her entire face twisted, showing Renard a visage of intense hatred. She grabbed
his face, her nails cutting small crescents into his cheeks.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “You were supposed to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mine</i>,” she spat out, her voice laden
with anger. “He belonged to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.
Instead that brown-eyed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bitch </i>stole
him from me and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dared </i>to give him
hope.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ602p7zfGxCUAFS0loeU7LIYIIJVuqaEStsJgL8k3VkoILE_WcLvUyPpTJFDPJoVnzwTlq06gv3YtTnt0-k8b2Apr9bvCR1fMLUwBFw4IGvvcsZu-0vXw7-k-QFZ1pYTj0eRiVCE9Z9k/s1600/218.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ602p7zfGxCUAFS0loeU7LIYIIJVuqaEStsJgL8k3VkoILE_WcLvUyPpTJFDPJoVnzwTlq06gv3YtTnt0-k8b2Apr9bvCR1fMLUwBFw4IGvvcsZu-0vXw7-k-QFZ1pYTj0eRiVCE9Z9k/s1600/218.20.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Renard flinched and closed his eyes,
wishing he could somehow get away from the woman, or that somebody could save
him. He had never been so afraid before in his life. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> The woman gave a chortle, her face once
again twisting. The slight gleam of insanity in her eyes intensified, leaving
Renard with absolutely no doubt that the woman in front of him was a complete
and utter psychopath. The crazed smirk playing once again on her mouth only lent
emphasis to that idea.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “So you know what?” she asked rhetorically.
“I’m going to take him back, and I’m gonna make him <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">despair</i>.” Her face lit up in delight and the peals of laughter that
suddenly ran through the warehouse caused another wave of shivers down Renard’s
spine.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeN170sPOqdPzD04-kCwMlQUc3GyHL7cXNQEsb89XkQm3-DvHgyqjR571jM2p0wo6ZC9_re_r5eUVH6ET3L9UfUYOWtfCXa0r4JaeNEaW-eFTmmgEXqS20VE6brgInHKUDhOYUCWDH0o/s1600/218.21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeN170sPOqdPzD04-kCwMlQUc3GyHL7cXNQEsb89XkQm3-DvHgyqjR571jM2p0wo6ZC9_re_r5eUVH6ET3L9UfUYOWtfCXa0r4JaeNEaW-eFTmmgEXqS20VE6brgInHKUDhOYUCWDH0o/s1600/218.21.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her laughter abruptly stopped, leaving the
last remnants of the sound to echo in the silence. She turned her gaze back to
Renard, that same crazed smirk still on her face. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “I think…I’ll start with you. Dear, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dear </i>Sammy will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">surely</i> come for you, won’t he?” She caressed his cheek again, and
despite his desire to turn his face away from her touch, he couldn’t move a
muscle. He was frozen in fear; like prey caught in the gaze of a predator. “So
protective over his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">precious </i>little
family. But he forgot: he belongs to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>.
And so does everything that’s precious to him.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Her hand left his face and for a moment
Renard felt relief, but that relief soon turned to dread when she fished his
phone out of his pocket.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6zsdD6rwF1-7RBVPz0U_OOXQkhyphenhyphen-iTuXgAMt9n5FOA5AmxpgY7lyutOt5dpdSUlVlPDl64O6A0IS-y3TSF3eeB-hC0CwqKXWPs4WKCU2av1oShHcxQimmyRegP2hGgr7OOmW4vxuqDU/s1600/218.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6zsdD6rwF1-7RBVPz0U_OOXQkhyphenhyphen-iTuXgAMt9n5FOA5AmxpgY7lyutOt5dpdSUlVlPDl64O6A0IS-y3TSF3eeB-hC0CwqKXWPs4WKCU2av1oShHcxQimmyRegP2hGgr7OOmW4vxuqDU/s1600/218.22.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why
are you doing this?” Renard asked hoarsely, his voice cracking with fear. “What
has my dad ever done to you to make you do this to me?” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Her answer was a short, hatred-filled
laugh.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Oh, you have no idea,” she sneered. “But
it doesn’t matter. All I’m doing is give him a reminder; a reminder that I
don’t take kindly to being betrayed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You</i>,
I’m afraid, are only my means to an end.” </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> With that declaration she pushed a button
on his phone, causing the sound of a dialling tone to fill the warehouse. On
the screen, Renard could clearly read the recipient of the call, causing mixed
feelings of gratitude and uneasiness to rise up in him. </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBDIJ79y_OEQfX5srnMbGYkEJXG_aVSyP7HJahyphenhyphenldKGW6_Gi-rBBwY3nPndVRkY3Je984N8NsLlgzS6XloeTXari8i1O3I5L-qxR4_nxTMdvS-Tpa6JVwsPlP61Uh3XAPABORj3jPr6M/s1600/218.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBDIJ79y_OEQfX5srnMbGYkEJXG_aVSyP7HJahyphenhyphenldKGW6_Gi-rBBwY3nPndVRkY3Je984N8NsLlgzS6XloeTXari8i1O3I5L-qxR4_nxTMdvS-Tpa6JVwsPlP61Uh3XAPABORj3jPr6M/s1600/218.23.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">His dad would come to safe him. He was sure
of it. </span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> But why did he feel so uneasy about it?</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">_~…~_</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">A/N: In case there were any doubts, Valeri
got a little more insane during her stay in prison. And now I will run away
before anyone can kill me for the horrible cliffhanger I’ve left. XD *runs
very, very far away*</span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Btw, Arienne is now on the download page,
if anybody is interested in her)</span></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6629651994435351543.post-6693894377431373032015-02-07T08:01:00.000+02:002015-02-07T08:01:17.202+02:00Legacy Sims - Download Arienne<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now that Arienne is a YA and out of the house, I'm putting her up for download, if anybody wants her :) </span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Note: All my sims use the same default eyes and skin, which can be found here - [<a href="http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=475508">Eyes - Tenti Oculos</a>] [<a href="http://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_63e832e0010181ck.html">Skin - European Skin Lemonleaf B2.0</a>]</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You
are welcome to use my sims in any way, be it simple genetic donor or
treasonous villain. You are also more than welcome to edit them to your
own preferences. I'd like to see what they get up to though, if anyone
decide to use them. Just please don't reupload them somewhere else.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Arienne Marquel – Generation 2 Spare </span></i></b></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwitVMmj-17wA0dBETN_GP34TBx0CRWnN6auzpiDLFcKaqF82TiH_d4Ww8KlezrmHo-Dd833zqdy7AXYvh3a6vUjTh7iA4qWnoQgQMoxOXRVbjadBkpaQIk2v60GbHjyUJ-H-3K-ou9U/s1600/Arienne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwitVMmj-17wA0dBETN_GP34TBx0CRWnN6auzpiDLFcKaqF82TiH_d4Ww8KlezrmHo-Dd833zqdy7AXYvh3a6vUjTh7iA4qWnoQgQMoxOXRVbjadBkpaQIk2v60GbHjyUJ-H-3K-ou9U/s1600/Arienne.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Traits:</b> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Artistic, Excitable, Friendly,
Hopeless Romantic, Virtuoso</span> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <b>Lifetime Wish:</b> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hit Movie Composer</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>Favourites:</b></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> Beach Party, Dim Sum, Red
</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHHfhe5LeT3mxjYSqkroGKlf7eGB2F3zoujrzmXqfb1s4SrwbG4vk5N20O4bRtxjopa1edCSqBU-WpNR7QUVMgb-dJJhP4TNanVZpvmohYVDh7LtSigUlP6Vc2TWmbjgpgbNJsOWrEig/s1600/Arienne+Outfits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHHfhe5LeT3mxjYSqkroGKlf7eGB2F3zoujrzmXqfb1s4SrwbG4vk5N20O4bRtxjopa1edCSqBU-WpNR7QUVMgb-dJJhP4TNanVZpvmohYVDh7LtSigUlP6Vc2TWmbjgpgbNJsOWrEig/s1600/Arienne+Outfits.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> CC and Expansion Packs used: </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hair - <a href="http://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/990061" target="_blank">[Newsea Moonriver]</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">O</span><span lang="EN-GB">utfits:</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Everyday
– World Adventures<br />
Formal – Nightlife <br />
Exercise – University<br />
Swimwear – Island Paradise<br />
Outerwear – World Adventures</span></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">
</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><a href="https://www.mediafire.com/?8w3ytdv39bv7ewl" target="_blank">Download</a></b></i></span></span></div>
convicteddreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07812626414525441171noreply@blogger.com1