The Fires of Summer (first draft)

Whatever the person said, it must mean something very important. Just as quickly as the sword had been drawn, it is sheathed, and the guard steps aside, albeit with a sense of reluctance. Dawn doesn't let go of Smock's hand, even as he releases her from the tight hug. Tears shine on her cheeks and her dark eyes are wide and terrified. A trickle of blood runs from her nose and over her lip.

"It's okay," he whispers to her, squeezing her hand, "just stay close to me."

Never having had a proper chance to calm down from earlier, Smock finds himself moving almost mindlessly, like his legs are separate from his body. He doesn't look at any of the guards, all too aware of their glares, of all the people that were thrown to the ground, definitely displeased, and perhaps a little burned.

As he approaches, he takes in more and more of their potential saviour, depending on their motives. They wear a black cavalier hat and a black cloak clipped at the front with an orange crystal, underneath that a grey shirt. They wear their raven black hair in classic locs, though a couple at the front are braided, and it falls neatly to their upper back. Their warm brown skin is dotted with freckles that sit over a wide nose and under striking amber eyes the colour of sap, and reach up to the tips of their ears, seemingly a demonkin, pierced all over and wearing an orange gem. Scars sit dark on their face, disorganised as though caused by multiple different attacks. When they speak, their voice is deep and melodic.

"Please, come with me - it'd be best to tend to this matter privately," they offer a reassuring smile.

Smock feels no less threatened, but words refuse to come to him in his overwhelmed state, and so he proceeds in silence, trying to ignore the eyes watching him go with fury. He keeps his eyes down as they walk along the street, unable to stand the stares, and unable to take in any more of the brightness of it all. They turn in to another magic shop, this one for magical services, and the person ushers them behind the counter and to a room at the far back. The room is comfortable enough, with furs and pillows on the floor to sit on, and a mat in the middle, no doubt where some kind of magic takes place. Smock sits down and Dawn stays glued to him, clutching his hand like he's doing to disappear.

With a sigh, the stranger sits nearby, a thin forked tail wrapping around his legs. "I'm sorry to have caused alarm like that, but I had to act before the guards did."

Smock's hands find the pillow beside him, the cover made of fur, and sets his hand on it. "Well you seem preferable over them, so I'll take it."

"Yes, I'd say I am," they agree in good humour, amber eyes scanning over the two. "You don't seem injured, but the girl..."

His stomach drops and he looks to Dawn. She's unresponsive, though it doesn't seem to be from pain, and as far as he can see there's no injuries, and the bleeding of her nose has since stilled and dried. She holds the wand tight to her chest, her knuckles pale from the intensity of the grasp.

"Dawn?" Smock says quietly, squeezing her hand. She seems to stir for a moment, so he tries again, "Dawn, come on."

"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry," she whispers, as though saying it out loud will bring punishment.

"I know," he coos, "and it's okay. But you're hurt, and this person is here to help."

They speak with a gentler voice than before, understanding now what the situation is. "Yes, there's no need to be afraid. I'm not mad, and I won't have you arrested, or anything of the sort."

Dawn looks up to Smock, fear shimmering in her eyes. For all her bravery and courage, right now she is just a girl of fifteen, who has lost everything.

"It's okay Dawn, I'm here. You're safe, and I trust him," he assures her. Silently she nods, eyes turning to the stranger, tense, her hands sweating.

With a shaking voice, she nods. "Okay."

Slowly, the stranger moves forth with a certain grace, and with gentle hands takes the wand from Dawn. She watches it with a fear, as though she's expecting it to do something, but when it's laid down on the ground without any effect her shoulders droop a little. They open the girl's palm, and there is a deep burn that seems to weave through into her veins, some dry blood upon the surface. Closing their amber eyes, they hold her hand between theirs. An amber glow begins to emanate where they are touching and Dawn squeezes Smock's hand tight, trembling. From her sharp inhalation he guesses it hurts, but she doesn't pull away.

A few minutes pass before the person retracts their hands. Dawn's palm is clear of any damage now, and for a while she stares at it. "Magic can... do that?"

"Magic can do almost anything," they respond, "but before I tell you more about that, please let me introduce myself. I'm Emilio Waltz. I'm a wizard and part of the council of the local magic school but I also work here to help people, especially people like you."

"People like... me?" Dawn wipes her eyes.

"Yes, you have magic in your veins. But, for someone with wood elf blood, lightning isn't at all common..." Emilio mutters, taking the wand and looking it over. "I can't support theft of a wand, but I understand your inclination towards it. There's nothing that indicates the wand gave you any sort of magic..."

"I'm really sorry," Dawn insists. She doesn't sound as despondent as before, no longer watching scenes unfold in her mind.

"It's alright. Many young magicians make... questionable decisions," they chuckle, as though reminiscing. "I'll tend to the business with the other shop. I think what's most important is that we figure out a way to avoid this again in future."

"Am I being punished?" she asks, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"Not at all," Emilio clasps their hands together. "I want you to tell me about what happened as best you can."

Dawn takes a deep breath. She's silent for a few moments, as if thinking back on everything, and squeezes her eyes shut, like she's struggling to repress something. "I just... when they grabbed Smock, I got really scared and angry, because he's all I have, and I couldn't control it any more. It was like my body was full of electric and I couldn't hold it in and everything exploded."

"I see, so it was your emotions that made it happen?" Emilio asks, voice ever-soothing.

"I think so," she nods, frowning.

"Don't feel too bad about it. I take it your name is Dawn?" they confirm, continuing at the nod, "Well, Dawn, what happened is very common in people born with magical capabilities. Some people find out with small things, like being drawn to a candle and realising they can make the flame bigger. Some people find out like you, in huge bursts of emotion. Some people... when they find out, it destroys them."

Smock knows that all too well. As an Archangel he'd heard the prayers of people begging for help after their magic manifested and took their family, or their friends, or their loved ones. Their despair is something he could not forget.

Emilio continues, "That's why we have the [law name]. It protects people who had their magic come out in less fortunate ways, especially the first time they manifested it, so they don't have to be punished for it, but rather taught how to better harness it, if they so desire."

"Why do they call it that?" Dawn takes the wand again, with hesitance, and looks over it with a little less hostility this time.

"It's... an unfortunate story," the wizard begins, tail twitching absently. "There was once a man by the name of [name]. He was mysteriously born with magic to a non-magical family, so nobody ever suspected that he could have ever held such power, until one day, he simply... destroyed everything. Vines consumed his home and from the water that makes up our bodies grew from within his family, climbing from their throats, blooming when they touched the air, at the cost of their lives. Immediately the people nearby alerted the guards, who..." Emilio grows grim, "well, they sentenced him to public execution. Until the end he plead to be spared, screaming how deeply he was sorry to the air and the onlookers, but it was no use in the end.

"When this news spread to the magical council in Gore, they were outraged that someone would be punished for something they could not control, and so they created a law that was approved by the Emperor himself, and named it after him, so that no other unfortunate magicians will be punished for these accidental emergences of magic. It's a powerful force that often cannot be controlled or subdued in those with little to no experience, as I'm sure you now know, so punishing those that it chooses to course through is unjust.

"As soon as I heard what happened with you, I knew I couldn't stand to see someone so young punished so harshly. You have incredible potential, and I think that if it's a path you would like to seek, you could be an amazing magician."

Dawn sits in silence for a while, taking in all of the information. Smock wishes there was more he could do, something he could say to make this easier for her, just anything at all. She speaks up after a while, quietly. "Can you... get rid of magic? Do I have to learn how to use it if I don't?"

"You can, yes. Magic isn't the right path for anyone, and there are ways to take it away," Emilio nods. "The council of magic in Gore are able to deal with that, if it's the path you wish to take. It can be difficult and sometimes dangerous, but no more than learning magic. Nobody will force you to learn anything about it, and there are ways to live with it safely."

She takes a deep breath, rolling the wand over her palm. There's an unreadable look in her eyes. "I think... I think I want to learn how to use it."

Smock feels the squeeze of her other hand on his.

"That's a very brave decision to make," the wizard offers a comforting smile. "If you like, and if... Smock?" a nod, "If Smock will approve of it, I could have you enrolled in the magic school here in Moosewater. It's only a small school for younger people such as yourself, to get you acquainted with magic, and that way you can at least control it, or if you like move on to a big academy or group of wizards to learn more. We have access to dorms for those that prefer to stay there, too."

"I'd really like to go to the school," Dawn agrees right away, without a second thought.

At those words, Smock's stomach twists. Eyes look his way, but he can't meet them, instead staring at a spot on the far wall. "If that's what you want Dawn, I support you."

"Thank you so much!" she beams, but he doesn't see her smile.

"Will you promise to take care of Dawn if anything happens to me?" Darla had said, holding his hands in hers.

"Yes, of course," he'd sworn. But now, it all seems to be burning down all over again.

They'd left Emilio's shop after going through some papers and talking more about the school, but in all honesty Smock barely remembers any of it. It's all too much. Even with the reassurance that matters will be settled with the person Dawn stole the wand from, he still feels the watchful and suspicious eyes of guards and all who saw what happened. People make way for them as they walk now, and while Dawn doesn't seem to notice or care at all, Smock has lived in this world long enough to understand what it means.

Finally, they get to the library. Smock is beyond relieved to arrive. Of course, any normal person would be able to get here without a million different problems and evading arrest, but he's never been gifted with such fortune.

Dawn follows him around, in awe with all the books surrounding them. The library is only a small building, average in its layout with just rows of shelves and a couple of spaces to sit, but the knowledge held in there is nothing to be underestimated. He finds a few of the average history books - An Objective Approach to the Civil War, Queen Lazuli's Reign, The Known History of Aldelis (which seems notably sizeable), so on so forth - and gladly hands some to Dawn, who places them on the nearest table. He flits through a few that he doesn't recognise the name of and finds nothing much of interest to her. One title catches his eyes, something titled 'Pirate in the Serpent's Sea', and he figures it must be some history on pirates, and goes to hand it over until he notices the fancy borders surrounding the blurb, certainly not typical of a history book.

He reads over it and flicks to a random page. It's... atrocious. He takes one glance at the insufferable crybaby love interest going on about how he's a monster or whatever and shuts it with a shudder, returning it without hesitation to its spot on the shelf.

Smock does manage to find a proper book about pirates, though, this one written by someone who claims to be one themself. The name on the front must, of course, be a pen name, and in all honesty he's surprised to see something from a pirate in a library at all. Under Corvus' reign, such books are highly disapproved of, and in places further inland you'd be thought horribly suspicious for even picking one up. At a quick glance, it seems perfectly factual (he'd certainly know), so he adds it to the pile.

After checking through his money, Smock buys the books. The librarian doesn't seem to be suspicious of him at all, so they mustn't yet have been made aware of the... incident. Tired, he puts an end to their outing, figuring dinner won't be a long way, and quietly they begin to head back to the farm, sharing the pile between them to ease the weight.

Finally, Smock speaks. "Hey, Dawn... I think you should move in with Bo and Garrett, if you're going to the magic school. I... I need to find closure."

She stops in her tracks, round brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"I can't stay here. I'm... I'm happy for you," he forces out, "but I can't give up on finding out what happened to my wife."

"But... but you can't leave me," Dawn insists with a deep frown.

He can't look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry Dawn, I have to. Besides, it'll be safer here than if you come with me. You've got much more of a life like this. It's what your mother would've wanted, I promised her-"

"My mother?" immediately Smock knows he said the wrong thing. "You're leaving me just like you left her and Klaus to die!"

He feels cold. "I left them to die? If I didn't get you out of there, you'd be dead, we'd both be dead. There was nothing I could've done."

"You could've grabbed them! Even if my mama was gone, you could've grabbed Klaus, there was still time!" Dawn gets louder and louder, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. "It's all your fault!"

Smock doesn't know how to respond. Grabbing Klaus would've slowed them down. It could've given Apollyon time to get the upper hand again, and fire spreads with a ferocity that gives you no time to blink. He would've died. But then... I'm an Archangel. I could survive seven years drowning, I could survive the smoke, if I'd have told her to run... He feels his chest tighten. Death follows me everywhere. I should never have tried to save them. I should've just gotten off the cart and gone on my way. This is all my fault. Unable to process what's going on in his head, he can't help lashing out. "You don't make any of it easy! I promised your mama I'd keep you safe, and now she's dead and you're making it harder and harder every time! You attacked Apollyon, you stole from a shop, you struck guards with lightning, and now you're going to a school where I can't take care of you anymore. I have no choice but to leave you with them for your own good, because I will not be able to live with myself if you throw yourself into danger and get killed, Dawn."

"I hope I do!" she shouts back.

Unable to take it any longer, Smock turns away from her and goes back to walking.

He checks behind his shoulder every now and then to make sure Dawn is following, but can't bring himself to talk to her. It swirls around in his head, everything that happened, and every possible way he could've avoided it, and saved someone. Darla... there was not much he could've done to save her. Apollyon's actions were cruel and erratic and without a doubt merciless, but he'd done nothing to harm Klaus physically beyond saving. In losing his father, his mind would never be the same, and Smock knows it without a doubt after having seen his expression, devoid of life, but even scars of the brain can heal, and at least then Dawn would have a friend.

Smock knocks on the door to Bo and Garrett's house. Dogs bark from inside and a curious cat mrows, jumping down to greet him from a tree. He pets it, noting the soft fur - the farmers must take great care of it. The texture is soothing, easing his nerves a little, though the anger fades away into a deep sorrow.

Bo answers the door with a smile at first, but it drops when he notices Dawn isn't there. "Everythin' alright?"

"Yeah, just... some stuff happened today. It'll be okay," he answers, frowning. "I think she just needs some time to cool off."

"That's absolutely fine. If you like, we don't have to eat dinner together today," he offers, making way for Smock to enter.

"I'd appreciate that," Smock agrees. He does want to fix things with Dawn as soon as possible, but... perhaps cooling off away from each other for a short while is for the best.

Smock takes a seat in the living room, putting down the books. With a deep sigh, he digs through for another book he bought for her: Angels, Demons, and Devils Demystified (150 EP Edition). As if any of those things can be demystified, he thinks as he opens to the contents, smiling fondly at some of the names at the front. He flips to a certain page, where there is an illustration of a pretty veiled angel with a kind hand outstretched to a person at the bottom and raven black wings spread at their back.

Azrael

The Archangel of Death

Often prayed to by those desiring a loved one's safe passage into the afterlife, or those seeking help after loss, Azrael is an Archangel loved and worshipped by many, though for around thirty years it seems that nobody has been able to contact them.

Guilt settles over him like a heavy cloak. It's not just Ellamia or Dawn or the others, I've failed everyone.

He moves to another section, not wanting to read any more. This page is headed by an Archangel with long red hair and small black horns. He's in long robes and gesturing with two fingers pointed to the sky and two to the ground. A red, black, and gold snake tail trails down behind him, poised as though connected to a snake about to strike. A spiked halo frames his head and his eyes are closed, tan skin flawless, the epitome of beauty and perfection.

Lucifer

The First Archangel

Nobody truly knows what Lucifer is the Archangel of, though he holds many titles, regarded as the dawn-bringer, son of morning, and the morning star. Before his fall, and somewhat to this day, he is thought of as the most beautiful of the angels, and a symbol of perfection. He fell after waging war against Asmodeus, Lord of the Underworld, cast out by the Archangel Michael.

Smock has only heard of the event in warnings, but he knows nothing of Lucifer, or what led him to rebel. Skimming through the section, there seems to be no explanation of it either. By all means, Lucifer is an enigma. What he knows of Asmodeus, though, doesn't paint him in a particularly good light - Smock supposes there must have been some good reason to turn against him.

Bo comes through with food soon after, and Smock puts the book down as subtly as he can, not keen on any questions.

"Doin' alright?" Bo asks, sitting in the armchair opposite him.

"Yeah. Is Dawn?" Smock figures she must be eating with Garrett. He feels almost bad having such a loving couple eating in different places on their behalf.

"She cried a bit, but Garrett cheered her up. He's great with feelins," the man says fondly. Smock misses those kinds of looks he'd get from Ellamia, or that he'd offer talking about her (or at least, that's what everyone would say - he never noticed).

"That's a relief. I don't like to see her upset," Smock looks over the food. Today it's shallots, potatoes and sausage, adorned with some herbs and topped off with some gravy. He's got a nice cup of fresh orange juice, too, though he can't help but feel desperate for something more alcoholic.

Bo hums sympathetically. "I get it. It's never easy to see loved ones like that, is it? But hey, bad times with loved ones are only temporary. Our love for 'em, on the other hand, is forever."

"That's pretty wise," Smock can't help but crack a small smile. The statement holds a lot of truth, though he can't see the pain of losing Ellamia ever fading, even if his love is eternal alongside it.

"I try my best," Bo laughs in return. Just his presence alone brings the life back to Smock, his warmth flowing through the whole room. "Anywho, if you don't mind me mentionin' since I figure it's been a bit... sore, Dawn said you were hopin' she could stay with us while she goes to this magic school. That right?"

He suddenly feels quite embarrassed, shrinking in on himself. "Oh, right... I'm sorry, you don't have to do any of that. They have their own residential, I just thought it'd be nice that she has someone here if she needs anything."

"Oh no, don't apologise! Totally fine by me 'n Garrett. She wanted to do the residential but she's welcome to stay here if she likes. We've only known each other for a short while, but... talkin' to Dawn 'n all has really just solidified how much me 'n Garrett want to adopt."

Smock had completely forgotten about that. "I'm glad, that's honestly really sweet. If I may ask, uh... what's making you adopt instead of going down the other route?"

Magical capabilities are infinitely weaving ways for couples of the same sex to have children the same as anyone else, and Aldelis, even with its issues, has never been too opposed to the idea. Bo doesn't seem phased by the odd question. "We're not against it, and we did consider it, but since neither of us are particularly fussed about goin' down that route we decided to adopt 'cos there's tons of kids out there in need of a home, 'n we're more than ready to take it on, even if it might be a bit harder 'cos of the trauma and whatnot that a lot of these kids have. They deserve just as much of a chance as anyone else does."

"That's a noble cause - I admire you for that," he says with sincerity. "Say, I do know a place that could use that kind'a help, if you'd be interested."

"Absolutely," Bo nods with an eager glint in his blue eyes.

"Don't be put off by the name, but Pirate Island's got a hefty orphanage. Despite the rep pirates get, the kids are great. Pirate Island is just... not the best place to raise a kid, and nor is the sea, so a lot of 'em end up there," Smock knows revealing the info is a bit of a risk, but he gets the feeling he can trust Bo and Garrett.

"Ah yes, you must'a sailed there before huh?" Bo nods approvingly. "We'd love to welcome a kid from any part of the world, no matter what anyone has to say about where they come from. How would we get there?"

"Your best bet would be a pirate, since they know the quickest and safest ways there. Sailors and merchants are both slow and in danger out there," Smock hums, thinking for a moment. As much as he knows the Pirate Lords would take care of them, they don't come ashore all that often, and even then while a safe journey is guaranteed a peaceful one is an entirely different matter. One man springs to mind. "It's gonna sound crazy, but if you wanna get there, go with Blackbeard. He comes ashore at the start of every month in Riloris at a place called Sea Serpent Retreat. Only a pirate knows how to get there," he immediately senses his mistake as he speaks next, "...and I can mark it on a map for you, if you've got one."

Bo smiles with understanding, but doesn't point out the accidental reveal. "That'd be great - thanks, Smock. It's real kind of you to help."

"It's no problem, really," he feels a little flustered from the appreciation. Bo and Garrett really are good people.

"I'll grab you for it tomorrow mornin' - I'll have to rummage through some stuff to find our map. Kind of just tucked it away after a while of goin' nowhere," the farmer laughs, finishing with his dinner. He waits for Smock to do the same and then collects everything to clean up. "I'll go take care of these."

"Thank you. And... if it's not too much of a bother, could you see if Dawn is okay to talk to me now?" Smock asks, voice quietening a little as guilt creeps in.

Bo offers a sympathetic look. "Fine by me. I'm sure you guys will work it out."

With that he heads for the kitchen. Smock anxiously sips his orange juice.

Dawn enters soon after. She doesn't meet his eyes, hers trained on the wooden floor.

Smock sighs. "Hey... I'm sorry about what I said."

"Me too," she agrees almost immediately, as if she's been holding it back. "I didn't mean what I said, I was just upset, because I don't know what to do without you."

"I know, Dawn. But, look... I'm not going to abandon you, okay? No matter how far away I am or what happens, I'll always make time to come see you," Smock assures her, and he means it. Dawn is, by all means, his daughter: he could never leave her behind.

"Do you promise?" she asks.

Smock finds that he's come to dread that question. He'd made many promises. He'd made one on his wedding night, to Ellamia, one to Axel, and then to Max as he died. He'd made multiple promises to Dawn and Darla. Almost all of them had been broken, or at least things that he promised despite knowing he might not be able to uphold them. For a moment, he wants to tell her he can't make another promise, but he knows it will crush her, and he doesn't have the heart. I'll really make sure of it, this time. For Darla and for Dawn. "Yeah, I promise."

Dawn approaches him and sheepishly opens her arms in hopeful invitation. "Thank you... I'm scared, Smock."

He stands up and hugs her tight, wishing the world were an easier place to be in. "I know. But it's okay, Emilio and Bo and Garrett will keep you safe, and you're gonna learn great things at that school and make lots of friends."

"I hope so... when they had kids back at God's Lake sometimes, when people were invited for dinner, I never felt like I fit in. It was like they knew things I didn't, and said things I didn't understand. It was so hard to talk to them at all and when I did it made me feel like there was something wrong with me," she says, sniffling. "What if it happens again? What if nobody likes me? How do I fix myself for them?"

Smock understands. In his youth, and even as an Archangel, he'd never quite been the same as the others. He'd bore people with talking on and on about ravens and death, and could never seem to understand the hidden things in a conversation like the others. Tone was a mystery and unclear instruction an enigma, as though there was some information booklet everyone got at birth except him. Not to mention how certain textures make him want to rip off his skin, or how certain things distress him until eventually it all implodes. "You'll be okay, Dawn. You don't have to fix yourself for anyone - your crowd will find you eventually. If it's bugging you or you need some extra help, tell Emilio or Bo and Garret, or one of your teachers. I'm sure they can do something."

"But describing my feelings is hard sometimes and people don't get it," Dawn doesn't seem in a rush to part from the hug, as though she's been really needing it.

"Yeah. I'm sure you'll find something that works for you, even if it takes some time," he squeezes her tight. "There's a place in this world for you, and you make everything a lot better by being in it."

"You do too, Smock," she sighs, then releases him from her grasp, and looks up with a smile, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "You understand me like my mama did."

Smock feels unable to accept those words fully, but he won't get Dawn down again. "I'm here for you."

"Thank you," she hugs him one more time, then steps back. "I'm sorry about the wand, as well. I was really excited, I didn't realise how bad it was."

"It got fixed in the end, just don't do that again," Smock says gently. "I'm not upset about it anymore, so don't worry about it."

"Okay," she agrees, going to grab her books.

Smock stops her. "Is it alright if I hold on to the one about the angels and demons for a little bit? I just want to look at it a little more."

"That's okay! I guess all your family is in there, right?" she takes the rest, clutching them to her chest.

Smock can't help but notice that her clothes are looking a little dirty. He figures that maybe exercising his tailoring skills again couldn't hurt, despite the many years that have passed since then.

He looks at the cover of the book, expression complex. "Yeah. It's... strange having to read about what they've been up to instead of just being able to talk to them."

"That does sound weird..." Dawn hums. "I hope it's better than not knowing at all, at least."

"It is," he nods, running his fingertips over the cover. "Before you go and start reading, could I take some measurements of you? I want to make you some new clothes."

"That's fine! Thank you so much - these are getting kinda nasty," she giggles, her usual bright smile back on her face, which is beyond a relief.

"It's no problem Dawn, really," he returns, standing up. "Let's go ask the others to see what they have."

Turns out Smock is very much in luck. Garrett's mother used to own a sewing machine, which he kept perfectly intact, though it's a little bit dusty. They have plenty spare fabric - working on the farm calls for lots of material to repair tears - and happily offer some thick tape made of layered parchment to measure with.

It doesn't take long for him to take and note her measurements, and from there he gets to work after setting up and cleaning the machine.

It's a large machine. There's a high seat that allows him access to the workspace on the top, and on either side of the table is a set of drawers that run to the bottom. Smock feels a little out of his depth at first, but everything comes to him like second nature. How long has it been? Ten years? Twelve? Fourteen? Being a tailor feels like a very distant memory - he remembers it, but it feels like it's all in a dreamlike wash.

He remembers the little shop he'd owned on the end of the street, next to the wooden walkway that blocked off the drop down to the beach. Just down the path there was a set of stairs, so whenever someone would come up from there, they'd pass his shop, and see his work in the window. It brought in a lot of business, and he loved the place. It'd only been a temporary thing, though not by choice: one night, after finishing an outfit for a client, he'd closed for a little while, going out to deliver it (they'd paid a good fee for the delivery, and how could he resist?) which was nothing that should take much time. Returning he'd seen an orange glow overhead, and rushed to his store.

Guards, all drunk, were holding torches, watching his store go up in flames, laughing about the 'crossdresser' that lived there. That was the day Smock discovered Aldelis was no good for people like him. Needless to say the Pirate Lords were furious when they found out, but he didn't want them ransacking the little town, so instead he sucked it up and started a new life.

In all honesty, he misses it. It was nothing like being at sea, but... it was nice.

He heads to Dawn's room and lays her new clothes on her bed when they're finished. He'd put together a light blue shirt, some brown trousers, and best of all: a tan coat with fur lining the inside. Though it certainly doesn't fit him, he'd felt it all and deemed it perfectly comfortable.

He returns downstairs to sit down and relax, finding everyone together, not talking but instead sharing each other's company in silence. Bo and Garrett are huddled on the couch reading a book, and Dawn is doing the same on one of the armchairs. Smock takes the one opposite and grabs his earlier reading material.

As he goes to set it in his lap, he slips and the book falls open on him. When he turns it over, he sees the last person he wants to read about.

Michael

The Warrior Archangel

Standing in his silver and red armour, he is displayed holding his deadly spear, frostbite eyes staring straight forth at the reader, sending a chill along Smock's spine. His wavy white hair falls over his shoulders almost symmetrically, and his perfectly angular features are all twisted solemn and cold, just as he remembers. Michael's wings are spread behind his muscular upper body. He is the epitome of an angel - terrifying yet beautiful, beyond ethereal.

Smock feels sick to his stomach, and ever-so-slightly his hands begin to tremble. A sensation of lightning crackling over his skin and his spine jolts him, stealing the breath from his lungs, and his veins tingle with electricity. For a moment he feels like whipping around, expecting to see Michael standing there, staring down at him with disappointment, but he keeps it in.

I need... he takes a deep breath, closing the book, unsure whether to give in or fight it. In the end, he decides on the former. I need a drink.

Placing the book back on the table, he stands. "I'm gonna head out for a bit," he closes his eyes, "alone. I'll be back when it's time to head to bed."

"That's alright. But... are you okay?" Garrett asks with concern.

Smock forces himself to look him in the eye and smile. "Yeah. I just wanna occupy myself for a bit."

"Well you be safe," Garrett doesn't stop him, and Dawn seems to engrossed in her book to even notice, so like that he takes his leave, hugging his overcoat close to his body.

It's getting darker outside. Smock tends to have a good grasp on time, having been out at sea for so long, coming to learn where the sun is at different times and when the air is at its warmest or coldest and how long certain things take. He feels a little disorientated on land, and much less certain of his sense of time, with the sun hiding behind buildings or trees. The town is settling, the former business having died down to just a murmur, people closing their stores and saying goodbyes to people. There's only a couple of places that seem to still be available, those being a cafe, the library, Emilio's place, and of course the tavern.

Smock makes a beeline for it. It's one of the bigger buildings in Moosewater, overlooking the bay, standing tall and proud with a yellow-orange glow emanating from all the windows. Music fills the air around it and the sound of talking grows louder and louder as he approaches. The exterior is made of stone at the bottom and the rest wood, and looks pristine and well-kept. As he enters, most people seem to engrossed in conversation or games to look at him, though there's the odd glance here and there, some with more suspicion than others. A few guards sit at a booth at the back, sending dangerous glares his way.

Ignoring them, he goes to order a drink. Ale is the go-to, and he picks the cheapest thing they have to offer - little can bother him as long as it's alcoholic. There's no room for him at any of the tables, so he stays at the bar. It's not been too long since he's had a drink, but it feels blissful to neck it down, and he finishes his tankard in no time. The next comes, and he knocks it back easily, and then the next. It calms his nerves, the buzzing of his veins settling back into nothingness, and his body relaxing at last. As he's getting halfway down his fourth, senses slightly dulled, his long ears pick up something he could not have mistaken, a name he would not forget.

Axel.

Immediately he gets up, carrying his ale with him, and he looks around the room, trying to figure out where the name came from. He tries to tune in to different conversations, so much so that he feels himself getting overwhelmed, until he hears it again, and this time he hones in precisely on the speaker.

Sitting in a booth at the back of the room with a few other people is a man with scruffy dark brown hair that falls either side of his face, reaching the middle of his neck in length, though the bangs lay against his cheekbones. He has strong, square features and friendly green eyes that sit with a drowsy look on his smiling face. His eyebrows are thick and he has two moles on his face, one on his cheek and the other under his lip. Along his jaw is rough stubble, and combined with his rugged armour it all gives him quite a worn appearance. Smock doesn't know too much about the people Axel tends to hang around with, but he gets this feeling that indicates this man is exactly the right type.

Smock approaches him, taking a swig of his ale and looking down with an almost accusatory glance. "You know Axel?"

"Uhh... I know an Axel," the man looks up at him with uncertainty in his big green eyes. His friends seem confused and slightly alarmed by the interruption. Smock sees as he looks up that he's got two small symmetrical braids coming from beneath his bangs, adorned with grey and white beads. His tan skin looks rough from years of experience.

"Does he look like this?" Smock retrieves the drawing of Axel from his coat. It's horribly battered by the elements and all the things it's been through, waterboarded and smudged. It still has some semblance of Axel, though. Just about...

"...No," the guy responds lowly, before standing up and pushing Smock full-force into the table. He darts for the door.

Without hesitation Smock follows, leaving his ale behind and tucking the poster back into his coat. He's faster than the other, but the broad man is determined to make this as difficult as possible. He runs into an alleyway and throws some crates to the ground. Smock vaults over them, but gets caught on the crunchy contents of one - a bunch of lettuce. He treads carefully as not to slip but loses distance. What he lacks in speed the suspicious stranger makes up for with knowledge of the land, and he takes a turn between two houses that takes him out into the street, pushing a trash bin into the gap on his way, blocking the path.

Smock is forced to take desperate measures. Unable to get past the bin and likely unable to move it, he makes use of a discarded ladder. He props it up against a house and in no time is at the top, ladders being mere child's play compared to the rigging of a wind-battered ship. From there he sprints across the roof tiles and spots the man running for the forest.

Forcing his legs to move faster than ever before, Smock runs until he is just ahead, then jumps from the roof straight onto the man.

He seems too stunned to move at first, staring up at Smock with his eyes wide now like a pleading dog.

"Where is Axel?" Smock demands, holding him down with all of his strength.

"I don't know!" the stranger wails.

"I need to know," he hisses.

"Why?"

"I know him!"

"I-I need to know what kind of business this is-"

"I lost someone that's close to me," Smock snaps, then his tone softens a little, "and I need to ask Axel some questions."

The man frowns, his brows drooping in worry. "Oh God, I'm so sorry Axel did that."

"Oh no, no no- Axel didn't do it," Smock clarifies. Hearing the words come from this man's mouth, though... He thinks back to the wanted poster, and all the counts of murder on the list of crimes.

"Oh, well uhm, I can help then, I think," the other squirms, looking very uncomfortable, though not very flighty anymore. Smock tests him by releasing him a little, then when there's no attempt to escape he lets go fully, getting to his feet. The man rubs his wrists and sits up, looking like a kicked puppy.

Smock feels a little bad. "Look, I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot... This is just really important to me."

"It's fine," the man sighs, "I was just worried 'cos most people that know Ax, well uh... they tend to want revenge, and I'm included in that. I don't really like killing all that much."

"...I think that's pretty normal, pal," the pirate laughs. "Hey, look, let's move past it - name's Smock."

"Ah, well it's nice to meet you, Smock. I'm Kallisto," as he stands, Kallisto extends a large hand to shake. It's scarred on the bottom and a little hairy on the top, but very warm as they shake, and almost comfortable. "Axel isn't due anywhere down here for a while now; he's preparing for some big trip to Gore. So you'll have to go to this place called Serpent's Nook on Wolf's Reach."

Smock thinks for a moment, but the name doesn't ring any bells. "Serpent's Nook... never heard of it."

"Ah, yeah... It's only been on the map for about fourty years, so not many people know of it," Kallisto rubs the back of his neck. "Do you have a map on you?"

He goes to say no, but suddenly he remembers the map Mrs Martha had given him. He rummages for it in his pockets, fearful that whatever was upon it will now be destroyed from the fall, but when he opens it up, the paper is... fine. The path to Moosewater is still marked upon it. He tries to remember what Mrs Martha said when she made the pen write on the paper, but he finds that he can't recall exactly what it was. "I... don't know how to work it."

Perplexed, Kallisto takes the map from him and stares at it. "Is it one of those magical ones? This doesn't look like a normal map."

"Yeah, but the person who gave it to me never told me how to work it," Smock watches as the other furrows his brows.

"This is gonna look really dumb if it doesn't work, but um..." he clears his throat, then holds the map in front of him. "Wolf's Reach, Serpent's Nook, Zmeinoye Gnezdo."

The ink crawls across the paper, changing shape and moving like it's alive. Smock watches in awe, and then suddenly it clicks. Yes, Mrs Martha had said an incantation, but she'd also said 'Moosewater' - the incantation was to move the pen, but once the ink's there, all it needs is a name.

"Thank you," Smock takes the map, staring at the path. It says he needs to head around the side of the bay, but he supposes all he needs to do is catch a boat across to Wolf's Rest, where it says he can start climbing the mountain. "Well... I guess that's all I needed, so thank you. The rest of my questions can wait for him. Although... what is is that you said at the end?"

Kallisto shrugs. "It's what Axel calls his place. He says it's his mother's tongue, but he never told me what it means."

"Close to him, huh?" he looks up from the map. He'd taken note of Kallisto's height, but only now as he goes to look to his eyes does he notice how much taller he actually is than Smock. He stands at what must be six inches taller, and as he talks, Smock sees that his canines are strangely large.

"Guess you could say that," he chuckles fondly, looking away. "Well anyway, I really need to get back... Good luck with Axel, okay?"

Smock gets the feeling that Kallisto doesn't think this is going to go well for him. "Yeah, thanks Kallisto. Good luck with whatever you're doing."

He watches as Kallisto sets off back in the direction of the tavern. He watches him go with a renewed flame in his chest. He's a step closer to Axel, and, by the looks of it, as soon as he sets off he might even find him the same day.

I'm going to get my answers, Smock promises himself, rolling up his map and putting it in his pocket before starting on his way back home.

For you, Ellamia.