agentleooc | test drive 02

I know dust grows even when there is a breeze
Can't move, can't grow When you've fallen on your knees

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HOT UNDER THE COLLARD GREENS
The relationship between the Blood and the landens has never been easy anywhere, least of all Draega, and even less so now that the Strangers have arrived. Between Blood and landen, opinions on the Strangers vary wildly. Some Blood believe the Strangers were landen in their original worlds and thus cannot possibly have anything to offer, but some landens think this means that the Strangers will be more sympathetic to them—or that landens could gain the power of the Blood one day, too. Then there are the landens who think the Strangers have sold their souls to Queen Fayura to gain the Jewels and the Blood who think the Strangers have embraced what it truly means to be Blood. Whatever that means.

Tensions are high, and they're highest on the main street of the Old Town Bazaar, where two restaurants have an on-going feud. The Last Meal is owned by a Blood family, none of whom wear a Jewel darker than Yellow. Across the street from them stands the mockingly named Blood and Breakfast, owned by a landen family.

To say these two hate each other would be something of an understatement.

On this particular morning, Lord Harle, the Yellow Jeweled owner and chef at The Last Meal, comes storming out of his front door. "You've done it now, Laney Cook! Soured all my milk!"

Simultaneously, Laney Cook, who is the owner and chef at Blood and Breakfast, comes stomping out the front door of her establishment, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. "Aye, and you've replaced all my sugar with salt, you ripe old bastard!"

Without missing a beat, both turn to you and the Stranger at your side. Wrong place, wrong time, friend. The two chefs decide the two of you can be trusted to help them prove the other party guilty of sabotage because neither of you has a stake in this. And, well, if the Queen brought you here, you should be an independent party. Both Harle and Cook seem to think the Queen is pretty okay.

Truthfully, they're both equally guilty. Lord Harle and Ms Cook have been trying to ruin each other for years, but who knows what you'll find when you go searching for evidence. And even if you find evidence that decides one way or the other, perhaps you'll simply lie and manufacture a solution that suits you—or the Queen who brought you here.

TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S
You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're starting to understand why Blood females constantly grumble about the caste of males they call Warlord Princes. Prince Loren has, somehow, managed to maneuver you to the place you're at now: the head of a classroom full of Blood children who all look like they're somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. It's hard to tell, and you're pretty sure one bossy little boy declared he was 203-years-old, so everyone else has to listen to him, thanks.

Regardless of how Loren managed to get you there, there you stand. Fifteen energetic elementary school children all wearing Jewels shriek and shout, using Craft to amplify already shrill voices. One girl floats near the ceiling, her face screwed up in concentration as she clutches a Rose Jewel. Two little boys are taking turns passing their hands through their desks, which strikes you as distinctly unsafe for eight-year-olds to be doing. (You're not wrong.)

At least there are two of you, and you only need to babysit these children for the morning. "They're here for Craft lessons. Surely, you can manage until Lady Sheera arrives," Loren had said before abandoning you to a battlefield full of powerful, pint-sized children.

There's a lesson plan on the teacher's desk, but maybe you should lead with the snacks.

REVENGE, SERVED STINKY
The air is crisp and cool; it's still winter, but it's not as chilly as it has been, and so you're out for a walk. You've made your way north through Old Town and now find yourself meandering down the roads in front of the landen Guild Halls. Even though they're all made of red brick, each building is entirely unique. The Hunter and Crafter Hall, the largest of all the buildings, has more in common with a hunting lodge than the university building it once was. The Elektriline Hall might be the smallest building, but it's covered in neon lights and impossible to ignore.

Equally impossible to ignore is Master Tinker Mari and her collection of landen young adults. They're clustered around a storm drain. When Mari sees you, she detaches herself from the group of landen students and bounds over to you. "Ahhah! Stranger! You have been brought here against your will and are surely sympathetic to our cause!" she exclaims.

That doesn't make you feel too great since, you know, you're aware that the Hunter Guild tried to kill all the Strangers maybe two or three weeks ago. They may have mellowed out, or they may just be biding their time. Thankfully, none of Mari's students bear the markings of a Hunter.

She pulls you to the group. Already, canisters have been lowered into the sewers. A handful of students have clambered down after the canisters. "The Blood wouldn't help us repair the damage in Old Town," she says, rubbing her hands together. "Our people's homes were unlivable. So we're going to make their workplace unbearable." She points at the canisters. "Stink bombs."

There's another Stranger in the group, and you make eye contact over the top of the storm drain. Are you of the same mind as each other? As Mari? The choice is yours: agree to Mari's plan and fill the buildings of the Ebon Council with untenable stench or try to convince them there's a better way.

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject.

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Food?

[A laugh from Evandra.] No, Lord Aren. Sex and flirting. Culturally, the Blood don't consider it rude to flirt quite blatantly with each other, even when one or both of the parties is married. Isn't that right?

[Aren:] That's exactly it, Evandra. Older males allow young witches to flirt because it's understood that the male isn't interested or available. He becomes a safe partner for her to practice on, and his approval lets her know what is and isn't acceptable.

[Evandra:] What does it mean if a married male or witch flirts with you?

[Aren:] Casual flirting means that witch or male thinks you're safe. It's their way of telling you they feel comfortable around you. Of course, it's always acceptable to ask them to step back! [He laughs.] As we all know, just because you can flirt with a Warlord Prince's lady doesn't mean you should!

[Evandra:] Let's take a look at casual flirtation between different Blood castes…

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] Warmer temperatures will see melting snow over the next week. Be careful around the Heartsblood River, as the heavy snows will result in flooding along the banks. Need flood insurance? The Transport Guild is looking to expand into…

the news
…amusing to hear that Grand Master Niall blames the Blood for the fires in Old Town. It is my understanding that members of the Blood, these so-called Strangers, went out of their way to rescue both Blood and landen during the fires set by the Grand Master's Hunter Guild. [The man speaking has a slow, clipped cadence to his voice. It's very posh and polished.]

[Another voice, presumably an interviewer:] The Council counts the Strangers as Blood, Lord Grejor?

[Grejor:] What else can they be? They wear the Jewels, therefore they are among our number. [He laughs, and the sound is cold.] The Council is pleased to welcome our new brothers and sisters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ she sees him walking, and it kicks the air out of her chest.

for a solid moment, she is ten years old. she is asking him to take her into the city the next time they go, following him around camp like a child. you were a child she reminds herself, but it doesn't help. it doesn't make it any easier to push the wind back into her lungs, to push the thoughts through to their normal, present speed. but it's harder than it should be, seeing him, him, walking through the city streets.

there is no woman, right now. no group of students all circled around a vent. this is simply the area of town they call old, surrounded by red brick and old architecture, and annabeth feels so horrendously out of her depth. but she can't, she can't let herself do this, because a part of her had always been expecting something like this to happen. they'd be down to tartarus, had been warned that she would meet the faces of her past.

she knew this was coming.

and yet.

annabeth's fists tighten at her side, luke's easy wandering leading him further and further away, and through the shock comes a quick ping of panic. there has to be something going on. there has to be something else happening. but if he gets away- ]

Luke!

[ her voice doesn't quiver, thankfully, despite the way her hands feel like they're shaking at her sides. turn around. ]

( the wind carries his name across the distance between them and he shuts his eyes. doesn’t think about how that puts his guard down, how he can’t trust anyone here, how he has nothing to go back to in new york — and now, of all things, he can hear annabeth chase calling for him. it’s a voice he can’t refuse, can’t ignore.

( but it’s not real. )

he stops in place, shoulders tense, and tries to pretend that his heartbeat hasn’t picked up, that there isn’t a tightness in his chest. he hasn’t forgotten the way the throne room shook beneath his — kronos’ feet — while the world nearly crumbled away. that’s what this feels like. hallucinating a moment he hasn’t been able to catch up with for years. luke doesn’t know why he turns around. it’s not possible. she can’t be here. but she is. somehow, she is. and he’s fourteen again in an alley, annabeth leaping at him with a hammer ( thalia at his side ) and he unconsciously takes a step back, completely out of cowardice. is that relief or disappointment he tastes when he doesn’t fall into the sewer grate? he can't look at her ( afraid of what he might see there ) but he does anyway, either iron-willed or a glutton for punishment. or both.

whatever it means, she's still standing there with her fists balled at her sides.

he takes the first step in spite of every fiber of his being screaming at him to turn the other way and run. run and don't look back. gods, he owes her at least that much. if there had been even a hint of doubt in her mind about whether or not it was him, it's stomped out when he faces her. his appearance is unmistakable. he reviews his multiple choice options:

a) i'm so sorry
b) what are you doing here?
c) to tartarus with words, just hug her already

and he sidesteps all of them, picks the unwritten one. )

I thought I'd never see you again.

[ he stops, reacts to the name she calls, and she feels something heavy and weighted land in her gut. because before that moment, as much as she had thought it could be him, there was still a chance. still some segment of reality she could hold onto. but then he stops and annabeth knows that this is happening.

would he run? would he make her chase him down? she would, if he did bolt - she knows that as well as she knows her name, or how much effort it is going to take this next breath. but he doesn't run, and instead turns to face her. they meet eyes, and gods, gods he's exactly as she remembers him. exactly. and yet she wonders how different she must look to him - older, tired, covered in scars she couldn't even hope to heal. she's been through tartarus, stopped gaia, brought together the camps...

and luke has been dead. for years.

she's seen her fair share of ghosts, she knows what she should expect, but the boy standing in front of her is solid and it catches her breath in her throat, showing only in a slight tightening of her jaw. annabeth doesn't move, keeping his eyes, still trying to parse out what she plans on doing now that she does have his attention.

i thought i'd never see you again

they're back in new york, he is dying on the floor of the empire state building, and annabeth forgets to breathe. she had grieved luke, had missed him so much since that day, but he had done it. he'd stopped kronos. he had died. ]

What are you doing here? [ it comes out harsher than she intended, but she's still not convinced. something has to be wrong, this has to be some kind of trick. ] How-?

test drive 02

revenge-ish? don't question me

but i have questions

c: