Apr. 21st, 2014

Daria woke to silence, which filled her with panic.

She hadn’t meant to go to sleep, only to sit down on the couch for a moment. She’d cut up some bananas for the girls and set them up watching telly on the couch beside her. Lulled off by the sounds of Peppa Pig, Daria had only meant to close her eyes for a second.

She sat up straight. The DVD had finished and the screen was flashing its screen saver. For a moment she sat, trying not to even breathe loudly, listening for any sign of which way the girls had gone. They couldn’t get upstairs, the gate at the bottom was still closed. They wouldn’t be in the kitchen, not silently. And then her eyes fell on the glass sliding door that led out to the back lawn and the gate to Thomas and Spectre’s house. The sliding door was open, just a child’s amount but it was open.

... )
After the hospital had said he was alright, no damage done from his brief fainting spell, Cai took the bus home. School wasn’t out yet, but it wasn’t worth going back just for last period. He liked History, but not enough to miss out on getting home before everyone else. They had three kids staying with them this week, who would be with them over Easter as well; all girls, all handfuls. Noisy handfuls.

So Cai went home, had tea with his grandmother and told her about his vision, tablet on the table in front of him so he could write up the details as he spoke. He told her all about Zoe, how unsurprised she seemed at her own vision, how surprised and annoyed she’d been that he had seen it too. “She sounds like a very interesting young woman,” Nonnie agreed, after he’d been talking about her for some time. “What are you going to do about it?”

... )
In the backyard of the Vatican, Flick had set up her boxing bag. Some days she forgot it was there and would note it looking forlorn in the rain while she made coffee in the kitchen. Other days she could hardly be torn away, letting out all her energy and frustrations on that heavy dead weight. Some days she looked out there and found Davis. His arms were very distracting when he punched and she liked when he looked so focused.

She was running out of excuses to deny him what he wanted: to try being a hunter.

It wasn't that she disapproved of the lifestyle - obviously that wasn't the case, as Flick couldn't even make herself pull back from it when she tried. But hunting, as great as it was, was a career with a short lifespan, and while that always seemed okay for Flick - she'd never expected anything more - it wasn't what she wanted for Davis. Flick wanted Davis to live a long and happy life but... well, Flick wanted to be in it. And she wanted him to understand better her own life.

Dropping her hands in front of the punching bag, Flick leaned forward to press her forehead against it. Yep. Time to do it.

When she leaned in Davis' doorway she was still breathing hard, her ponytail sweaty and messy. "Do you still want to go hunting?"


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Darker London

October 2014

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