Firebrand Risk
Magpie Flashforward
with some others
October 24, 2024

The sun was creeping towards the flat, sparsely vegetated horizon as a large, mud-spattered pickup rolled up to a small, half completed house.

Magpie leaned heavily on the wheel. He pinched his grey-hazel eyes as the house went unfocused, shaking his head to clear the weariness. A tired smile tugged onto his bearded face as he noticed three figures sitting outside.

He exited his truck, slamming the door to ensure it stuck and to further alert the three sitting some meters away. He crouched down and held open his arms.

                “Daddy!”

Magpie braced as two girls around seven-years-old smashed into him. He squeezed them until they wiggled free.

The taller of the two—her black hair in two pigtail braids—scrunched her nose at him. “Why’re you all furry?”

                “Oh.” Magpie felt his beard. “I lost the head of my razor somewhere.”

The smaller girl—her dark red hair in matching ponytails—frowned. “It looks weird.”

                “Does it?”

Each girl took a hand before Magpie had time to ponder his appearance more. He allowed himself to be dragged over to the incomplete homestead, to the third figure sitting out front.

Balter’s black hair was tied up in a messy bun. She sat in a patch of dirt in a long, piecemealed skirt. Her fingers were at work shelling peas into a jar. Her shotgun and a large, burlap duffle bag sat to her side.

Magie met her lopsided smile with a broad one as she looked up from her task. He knelt, carefully putting a hand on her growing abdomen, and gently kissing her.

She stifled a laugh. “Sorry. I’m not used to the beard.”

                “I will get rid of it.”

                “Wait until tomorrow.” Balter smirked. “You never know, we might get used to it.” She lifted a full jar. “Maran.”

The taller girl took it, settling down to screw on the lid.

                “Rouen, can you grab the other bushel from the kitchen?”

                “Sure.” Rouen shook her head at Magpie. “It still looks weird.”

Magpie frowned. “Does it look so bad?”

                “Different.” Balter thumbed it as she touched his cheek. “It makes you look older. The question is do you want to look in your thirties before thirty?”

Maran climbed onto Magpie’s back. “I don’t want you to be old.”

Rouen bounced back to the group with a basket of peas. She set them before Balter.

                “Can we go play before dinner?”

                “Just don’t go deep in the canyon this late, and if one of you is climbing, the other needs her feet on the ground.”

Maran led Rouen by half a pace as they ran off towards the canyon.

Most people that the four them came across assumed Maran and Rouen were twins despite the differences.

Maran had black hair, and skin darker than Magpie’s olive tone—like Balter’s.

Rouen had dark red hair, and skin a shade lighter than Magpie’s.

They both had brown eyes as Balter did, but the shape was the same as Magpie’s, Rouen’s being a fraction darker than Maran’s. Both girls shared a handful of small features with Magpie.

The four-month age difference was a fact that never crossed the minds of random rovers and townies.

Magpie snapped from his daze as Balter stroked his arm. He allowed her to guide him to her stomach, beaming proudly at the squirms.

                “You are much bigger than when I left.”

                “Yes, I’m aware.” Balter laughed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

                “I believe I managed enough to finish his bedroom. I should not need to go trading for some time.”

                “There’s no rush. It’ll be easier keeping him in our room the first year or so like we did with the girls.” Balter looked at the horizon. “I need to start dinner. The weather is good. We can do a camp out.”

                “I will gather your utensils.”

Magpie returned to the truck first to grab his rifle and heave a rolled carpet onto his shoulder. He discarded it in the living room area, exiting into the kitchen to grab a large pan, a slab of meat, carrots, and a knife.

Balter had moved to the fire pit as he left the house. He left her the cooking wares and returned to the truck to continue emptying the bed and back of the cab.

Magpie took his rifle and wandered towards the canyon to fetch the girls while Balter finished up the cooking.

The four of them settled around the fire pit. Maran and Rouen excitedly told stories of exploring the canyon while Magpie was gone, begging for stories of his journey to and from the Henlopen Market in exchange.

Magpie left Balter to get the girls ready for bed. He scraped the food scraps into a bucket, setting the plates and utensils aside for washing. He checked that Balter had fully disappeared—that everything was still—before digging through the burlap duffle. He extracted a beaten laptop from beneath the balls of yarn and clothing remnants.

The laptop was open to Surviving Wanderlust, now in red tones instead of pinks when the site first popped up. The newest photo showed a vast field of wheat in the middle of turning from green to gold.

Magpie moved the cursor to hover over the bookmarked sites.

--

Maran chased after a white goat with long, woolly ringlets.

A large, off-white dog with dark ears whined at Magpie’s side; Magpie focused on twisting the wire fence around a new wooden post.

                “Maran, no more. You are upsetting the dog.”

Maran took to climbing into the next field where black and brown floppy-eared goats grazed.

                “Dad! Maran!” Rouen paused yards away, bouncing and waving to draw more attention to herself. “Mom says to come get lunch!”

                “Go on. I’m nearly finished.”

He watched the two girls disappear around a rock face on their way to the house. He did a final twist on the fence repair but did not follow the girls. He shouldered his rifle, patted the dog on the head, and began to walk the fence.

The pasture was small and split into two halves. One housed goats with mostly short hair, floppy ears, and usually were brown with black patches with a handful being white with brown ears. There were scatters on this side to indicate the flopped eared goats were mixing breeds, and some had mixed with the white woolly goats in the other half the of field.

Each pasture had two dogs, one that was awake and one that was sleeping in the mouth of the small, long barns.

Magpie lazily looked over both barns, feeding scraps to the dogs and checking the water levels in the trough that watered both barns. He spotted Balter rounding the rocks as he paused his search for more to do. He walked briskly to meet her.

                “You should not waste your energy trekking out here now that I’m home.”

                “Probably, but what choice did I have if you’re going to be out here avoiding me?”

Magpie scowled. “I am not avoiding. I merely am… processing.”

Balter crossed her arms, casting him a skeptical look.

                “It is not you that I’m avoiding.”

                “Yeah, Mags, I get the semantics of it.”

Magpie fiddled with his rifle’s shoulder strap. He squinted into the sun as a vulture flew overhead.

                “It has been years since I heard anything from Innit. Even longer has passed since I have set foot out of United Americas land. I cannot make sense of it if Innit is asking me to do so now, and after so long.”

                “He could just miss you. It’s not like he was great at being personable or likable. He’s probably had enough of solitude. I mean it’s been… what, seven years? Eight? Was I pregnant with Maran the last time you guys were face-to-face?”

                “She was an infant.” Magpie winced. “I would say… she was near half a year….”

Balter’s dark brown eyes rolled up as she mouthed months. She focused back on Magpie, narrowing her eyes with a frown.

                “He was there when you got Rouen?” She threw her hand up in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

                “It was unimportant.”

                “Oh, right, I totally buy that.”

                “Perhaps… I did not want you angry with him.”

                “Why? Because he threw a fit when you chose the girls over whatever it is he planned on getting up to?” She scoffed. “Oh no, I see the rationale to it.”

Magpie stiffened. “I asked for his help when with Rouen, and he gave it despite protest. Do not be angry with him.”

                “I can still be mad he quit speaking to you over it.”

                “It wasn’t for long.” He shrugged. “He did reach out months later. Apologized.”

                “Apologized? Innit?”

                “Told me he understood my choosing you and the girls over all else. That was the last I heard from him. I took it to mean we were friends but now our lives were in separate directions.”

Balter’s brow knit. She stared off with a small frown, the cogs moving in her head.

                “That’s… way too understanding of him.”

Magpie was saved responding by Rouen appearing around the rocks. The corner of his mouth twitched at her huffiness. He had seen the same trait, the same mannerisms it bred, frequently growing up.

                “The food went cold. Maren and me didn’t wait.”

                “Sorry, honey. Dad and I just got to talking. We’re coming.”

Magpie feigned interest in the worn pattern on his rifle to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth as Rouen shot them a skeptical and irritated glare before running off.

Balter grabbed his arm as he made to follow Rouen.

                “Musa should be here tonight. He can post a message.” She pulled him to stop him from nodding and walking off. “Try not to worry about it. He could just be bored.”

Magpie forced a smile that did not hide his apprehension.

--

The sun was set when a lime green jeep towing a capsule tent crawled up to sit beside Magpie’s truck. The jeep was scratched and dented, colored faded in spots. The hood and one of the doors had been replaced with red parts. A sloppy, black word—Ruffian—was splashed over the hood.

Magpie protested as Balter hurried from the campfire as fast as she was able. He smiled widely as she squee’d, pulling the driver into a hug the moment he stepped out of the car.

Musa straightened his skewed red frames as he stepped back to catch his breath. “J’y crois pas! You’re pregnant again!” He gave Magpie a thumbs up. “Nice one.”

Magpie laughed as Balter playfully smacked Musa in the chest, and at Musa’s faux wounded expression.

                “You brat. I was last time I saw you.”

                “Yes, but you didn’t show yet and Maggy was not here.”

Magpie pulled Musa into a brief, one-armed hug. “Good to see you well.”

                “Same.” Musa peered at the campfire. “Where are the girls?”

                “Bed. I am certain they’ll be up early. Or soon, should they have heard us.” Magpie gestured towards the fire. “Come, you must be starved.”

The three adults gathered on the seats by the fire. Magpie sliced meat off the charred Gila monster, grinning and laughing at Musa’s travel story. Balter interjected at places to doubt his tale, add insight from her own time on the road, or mirror his emotion more strongly.

                “The travel is fun, but only due to knowing I have a place to park when I need it.” Musa pointed his fork at the house. “The homestead is come along nicely. How much is left?”

                “Nothing if Mags would stop being nitpicky.”

                “Adding a room for our son is not nitpicky. You are the one who cannot make decisions about the eating area.”

                “That’s because it’s hard to beat the open fire under the sky.”

Magpie smirked. “I cannot argue that.” He threw a piece of kindling on the fire. “I’m adding another room. It would be too much hassle having the boy mixed with the girls.”

                “That would save adding on later.”

Balter rolled her eyes. “You both are way overthinking things. We could live out of the jeep and be fine. We did it before.”

There was no arguing that fact. The three of them lived out of Balter’s jeep and pop tent for years, and only started to take long stretches camping in place after Maran came along. Those stretches extended once Rouen was around, but it wasn’t until both girls were walking and talking—able to run off and cause trouble—did he and Balter make the choice to set down roots on her parents’ land.

                “Uncle Musa!”

Maran bounded from the shadows. She jumped on Musa’s back, putting him in a stranglehold.

                “Ma chérie!” Musa pulled her up and over his head, knocking his glasses crooked. “Where’s your sister?”

Rouen dragged into the firelight, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She gave them a sleepy smile and an incoherent mumble. She shuffled into Musa’s hug.

                “Okay, girls.” Balter climbed to her feet. “You can hang all over him tomorrow. Back to bed.” She herded them away from Musa. “Uncle Musa and Dad have a lot of catching up.”

Magpie stood. “We shall wait.”

                “Yeah, I’m good sitting this out.” Balter kissed his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, guys.”

Magpie picked at some meat left on a leg. He kept his grey-hazel eyes down, listening to Balter and the girls retreating.

                “This is about Innit’s message to you, no?”

                “It was that obvious?”

                “Only to anyone who knows you and Innit.” Musa smiled. “Don’t worry.”

He exhaled as a weight lifted. There was the concern over why Innit reached out, but also worry over Innit’s safety. He had ignored that the best he could.

                “Have you spoken with Innit?”

Musa frowned at Magpie as if he was crazy.

                “I suppose that was a foolish question…. You have been over that way recently, I wondered if he reached out to you first before posting a message publicly.”

                “I suspect Innit spares no thought to me like how I don’t think of him.” Musa shrugged. “He was part of your life, not ours. Just a blogger Balter sometimes teased when we crossed paths.”

                “Fair enough.”

Magpie tossed the leg bone into the fire. The flames rose and licked at the bits of meat he failed to pick off.

                “You want to ask if I could know why Innit wants to talk, no?”

                “There is reason then?”

Musa squirmed. “Have you…? Your sister….”

Magpie’s heart dropped into his stomach. He lunged for Balter’s sack, digging out her laptop.

                “You can’t find word there yet. I only hear whispers now.”

He swallowed roughly. “What whispers?”

                “Infertility.” Musa shrugged. “That we knew would come. She told you as much the last time you saw her.”

Magpie stared through the flames to the house where Balter was re-tucking the girls in. Seven years was a long time, a completely different life ago. He never wanted that separation. He was reluctant about it at times still.

                “Is my sister in danger?”

                “That I don’t know. She well could be, but I don’t see Innit reaching out for that.”

                “Then…?”

Musa shifted. The firelight reflected off his glasses, making it difficult to tell where his brown eyes were focused.

                “It is only whispers, as I said. Gossip. Idleness.”

Magpie stared pointedly, his grey-hazel eyes piercing through the smokey night and dim firelight. Musa’s reluctance stiffened his shoulders and caused his fingers to twitch towards the old rifle lying at his side.

Musa was not normally swayed by chatter. His suspicions on why Innit reached out was more than rumors.

Innit was also too cautious to simply extend word on something vague.

He braced to receive Musa’s update.

--

It was long into the night when Magpie entered the house; the nightshift dogs alerting had him checking on the flock and walking the fence for any sign of breech. He was careful with his steps as he navigated the living room, knowing Musa was sleeping somewhere on a bedroll and hoping he had the sense to be against a wall.

He peeked through the doorway of a small room bearing a flickering lantern. Two small mattresses were stuck inside, each bearing piles of blankets but only one held the room’s occupants.

Magpie checked both girls were adequately covered before retreating to the only room with a bed. He slid in, slowly pulling at the blanket to not disturb Balter.

Balter rolled over and slipped her arm around him. “Goats or chickens?”

                “Goats. All accounted for. The dogs must have frightened the coyotes before they came too near.” He rubbed her hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

                “Your son woke me.”

Magpie stifled a laugh at the prodding he felt in the small of his back. He pulled Balter’s hand to his lips.

                “I apologize on his behalf.”

They lay still and silent. Magpie continued to rub her hand while Balter squeezed him gently.

                “Musa told me his suspicions.”

                “I had asked him not to.”

                “And that’s exactly why he did.” Balter sat up. “So? When are you going?”

                “I never said I was.” Magpie sat up and put a hand on her stomach. “I greatly dislike the idea of leaving when you are this far along.”

                “He’s not coming for a couple of months.”

                “The drive is long.”

                “I know that way better than you do.”

                “What if he’s early?”

                “Well, we’d both be in trouble whether you were here or not being this far from anything.” She grabbed his face with both hands. “I’m fine. He’s most likely fine.”

                “Most likely?”

Balter laughed shakily. “Sorry. I can’t see what’s going on in there. It feels fine, just like with Maran.”

Magpie took her hands from his face, squeezing them lightly. “Even so, I cannot risk getting sucked into something with the girls so young and you due.”

                “And I’m saying you should leave within the week so that you get back sooner. I know you, Mags. This will eat at you until you can’t help but check it out, and then I really will be worried about giving birth without you around.”

He did not counter her. He kissed her hands and rolled over. He nestled in the blanket, feeling the weight of her and his unborn pressed against him. His eyelids drooped with heaviness.

                “There’s no way Innit would have kids, right?”

                “…What?”

                “I keep wondering why he’d apologize.”

Magpie laughed, quickly turning into the pillow to stop from waking Musa and the girls.

--

The headlights cut the dusk, crossing Magpie’s dashboard and stirring him from his half-asleep boredom. He recognized the slate gray Cadilac’s lights before the old car crawled to stop three meters from him.

He stepped from the cab of his pickup, shouldering his rifle. He cautiously walked forward, his pace quickening and a smile slipping seamlessly onto his face as the car’s driver climbed out.

Innit’s platinum blond hair was a shade darker—but that may have been obvious only to Magpie’s sharp eyes—and no longer closely cropped to his head. It was short but gave an air of ease and maturity. His pale face sported a touch of red, as if Innit had been outdoors in the sun often and recently, and stubble.

Magpie threw his arms around Innit’s shoulders, and received an embrace in return. They laughed as they stepped away.

                “I cannot believe how long it has been!”

                “You grew a beard!”

                “Oh, no, I haven’t.” Magpie rubbed his furry chin. “I only do so while traveling.” He gestured to Innit. “Are you trying to grow one?”

                “Ouch, Magpie, that stings.” Innit smirked. “I ain’t blessed in that department. Just always like this no matter how long I leave it.” His smirk wavered. “I honestly wasn’t sure I’d see you.”

                “I needed convincing. Balter—.”

                “Oh, y’all still together then?”

Magpie glared.

                “Don’t look at me like that. I was tryin’ to be conversational. I reckon it’s good y’all stuck together since you were bringin’ Alouette’s kid to her to raise.”

Magpie stayed bristled. He waited until Innit sighed, groaned, and searched for something else to say before he relaxed his posture. He chuckled, coaxing Innit to do the same.

                “You ain’t got to worry me like that.”

                “It is too easy, but still too fun.” Magpie’s joyful expression waned. “But, I suppose this is not a visit for all fun. You would not reach out only for that.”

                “Reckon we both ain’t the type to meet up just for a chat.”

Innit ducked into the Caddy. He emerged with a smaller cooler bag. He held it up sheepishly.

                “I reckon you’re starved from the drivin’ and waitin’.”

                “You brought me food?” Magpie tilted his head. “Odd. I was always the one to keep us fed.”

                “Don’t go rushin’ to judgement! It ain’t my idea. My wife packed me extra sandwiches.”

There was a disconnect that made it difficult for Magpie to understand what Innit said. He tried to weed out Innit’s accent from each sentence, and then each word, to figure out where the problem was.

His grey-hazel eyes searched for clues on his friend’s angular face; the sky-blue eyes narrowing at his extended staring but otherwise calm.

Magpie fell upon Innit’s left hand, it gripping the strap of the cooler bag. There was a small mark on the second to last finger, between the base and middle knuckles that resembled the letter K.

                “Is that a tattoo?”

                “Oh, yeah.” Innit switched hands to better hold up his left one. “I ain’t one for jewelry and with stickin’ my hands in machinery at any point for some extra cash, it ain’t a great idea for me to pick up the habit. We just got our first initial tattoo’d in place instead.”

                “You and?”

                “Uh… my wife?” Innit laughed. “How tired are you?”

He looked from Innit’s mouth—trying to decipher the word tripping him up—to the bag of sandwiches to the tattoo. His jaw dropped.

                “You married? I cannot—. Who? Have I met her? May I meet her?”

Innit stiffened. “It ain’t that surprisin’.” He frowned, looking elsewhere. “Well… I reckon it is since we ain’t seen each other in years.” He shrugged. “She’s an assistant librarian. We had a quick thing that ended bad before it went anywhere. Reckon everything that happened back then was too raw still.”

They lapsed into silence over the nonchalance of Innit’s statement. They took the opportunity to drift away from the Cadillac, walking with no direction.

                “How is it you married if things did not go well?”

                “She—Kalon—reached out when I was driftin’ through the area near two years after I ran out on her.” Innit crossed his arms tight. “How old is Alouette’s kid now?”

                “Recently seven. Why?”

                “My boy is on the tail end of seven.”

Magpie halted, his rifle slipping off his shoulder. He caught it instinctually before it hit the pavement. His eyes were wide and wild as a grin overtook his face.

                “Balter will try to tell me she was right, but will be too shocked.” He lightly touched Innit’s shoulder. “I am happy for you.” He pat him and started walking again. “My biological daughter is also seven. Between the two.”

Innit smirked. “That’s right, you made mention of Balter havin’ your kid when we were snatchin’ Alouette’s.” He uncrossed his arms, his shoulders relaxing. “I got two girls too. Five and two.”

                “You have three children?”

                “Four, if all goes well the next half year.”

Magpie sank onto a metal bench surrounded by a rusted-out frame of a bus stop. He took the sandwich Innit offered.

                “Balter is due with my son in some weeks.”

                “A boy, huh? How’re you doing with that?” Innit threw the last bit of crust out into the dark. “Scares me as much as with havin’ girls if I’m honest. Probably why I ain’t got a preference for this next one.”

He smiled bitterly. “We lived too much for too young.”

                “If that ain’t the understatement of the decade.”

They listened to the waves lapping the shores of Sangatte as the stars twinkled above.

-----------------------------------

Way, way, way overdue and way longer than I was expecting/aiming. All the looking ahead with Ace and the gang made me want to do one with Magpie. I said soooo long ago that no one will remember, but I had this image of Magpie coming back from wherever and being greeted by a little girl/young daughter. I also had a really strong recurring scene of the daughters and him being joined by Balter (clearly after I was 99% sure they'd be a thing so sure they'd also have a daughter together) and Balter being pregnant. Which worked out since I wanted Magpie to have a son. But I'm thinking the bigger 'wut?!' is Innit. There is so many things that would need to happen certain ways for that to end up being his future, but it is in the realm of possibility. And it all stemmed from some years ago, boredly doing a dollmaker where the guy was blond and the wife was pregnant and there was the option to add three other kids. Just maxed everyhing out and then was like... Innit's blond... hmm. (If his wife's name is at all familiar, she's Bex's "researcher" from his extremely loose network of people. The wife in the maker was a brunette, and the only other brunette was Branch which was just a huge nope.)

I started this when I was still pregnant. Around when Magpie is telling Maran to leave the goats alone is when I went in to the hospital.

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Since I based the story on Cirque du Soleil’s “KA,” the story is VERY surface level and condensed for ‘time.’ With that, and nearly all the characters being someone from the Tale of Ace Gallagher, it feels very much like a play that the Ace folks are putting on. Maybe “Gemini” and “The Doctor” are Sapphyre and Christopher? The Gemini Archives were still going on at this point, so it’s very possible for a Jill brain to do.

Since this was meant to be a rough sketch to get the story out before fully realizing it digitally, these are not incredible drawings lol. There's a lot of unfinished bits, the backgrounds are here and there, the words are almost unreadable at times, and even the shading to designate the merkind/sharkind's markings fade out. I’ll type out the words in case they’re too scribbly.

Lastly, seeing this now with all the mermaids "naked"... yeah, I think I made the right call in giving them clothes. It's just awkward enough, even though I thought I was being cool by making them "natural." It’s funny how things change.



Page 1


Song: "O Makunde" (Intro only)

A small sailing ship on a vast ocean approaches a storm... and someone is watching below.


This is the best drawn page in the entire thing… probably because it’s the first page. Don’t get used to it lol.

 

Page 2


Song: "Pageant"

Nearby, among the rocky crags in the deep ocean, a village of merpeople sing and dance in a lively celebration. A regal mermaid sings at the center as a younger mermaid swims up to her. 

Kallista: Lady Aria!

 

Page 3


Aria: Kallista, my dear! Where is Sapphyre?

Kallista: Oh, you know her; she's probably off by herself again.

Aria: I should have known. I hate for her to miss the celebration.

Kallista: I will find her.

Aria: Good. And bring her this - a necklace from the celebration. Perhaps she will join us?

Kallista: I do hope so. (returns to the crowd and finds another merman) Hey Shael! Let's go find Phyre!

Shael: All right.

They swim off together outside of the village to find her.


I think Aria's TOAG counterpart was Mioko’s sister? But this character does become Neva in the final Sapphyre story, and Kallista/Khallista also makes the transition, though here, she's based on Athena. Shael is James.

 

Page 4


Song: "Koudamare"

Kalli: Phyre! I wondered where you'd gone off to... there's a celebration today! You must come back to the Enclave!

Sapphyre: What are we celebrating this time?

Kalli: A year without sharks!

Sapphyre: (turns) Oh, hi Shael.

Shael: Hi.

Kalli: Yeah, he's here too.


I've always liked the word Enclave and this is also why Sapphyre's village in the final version is called Enclei.

 

Page 5


Kalli: He's so quiet you forget he's there... not unlike you. Only if you're quiet, you're usually not even there.

Phyre: Kallista...

Kalli: Here.

Phyre: What's this?

Kalli: A necklace from the celebration. Please come back with us, Phyre. Come celebrate!

Phyre: (looks at the necklace in her hands) ...I just... I don't know...

Kalli: Phyre, you need to! You never do anything with the other merkind! Why? Why do you stay so separate?


The dialog in this is probably not how I'd write it now, lol

 

Page 6


Shael: Kalli, be kind.

Kalli: I just want to know! She's so separate from everyone else! And half the time, she's separate from us!

Phyre: (heatedly) Maybe because half the time I don't fit in with the rest of merkind.

Kalli: Fit in? How do you not fit in? We're all the same!

Phyre: We're NOT the same.

Kalli: (also heatedly) All right–do you think you'd fit in better with the HUMANS??

Phyre: I doubt I'd fit in with ANYONE!


I think I translated my markings for Kalli’s speech bubble there... did I not have an eraser? lol

 

Page 7

Shael: ...Phyre!

Kalli: (murmuring) Leave her be... maybe she'll come back around.

Shael: It's storming on the surface.

Kalli: Then let's return to the Enclave.

The scene transitions above the surface as Shael swims away.

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10 hours ago
DO.Penny.2

Penny poured over the thick, old book filled with detailed sketches and accounts of fantastical creatures. They ranged from the cute jackalopes to the charming domovoy to the awe inspiring unicorn to the powerful thunderbird, and all those that fell between. She quickly shoved it under her tangle of blankets as a knock sounded on her door; it opening half a minute later.

Mother Mary Clare shuffled in. She had a tenseness independent of her arthritis.

“Penrose, dear, I’ll handle your extracurricular lesson today,” she said. “Sister Mary Agnes has another matter.”

She pulled the book from the covers and flipped to the creature she’d been staring at before. The picture was of three creatures that looked like leg-filled white pants with the waist rounded up like the top of a head peaking out. They each had a pair of beady, black eyes.

“Mother Mary Clare, you’re from California, right,” Penny asked. She held up the book. “Did you ever see these?”

“Fresno Nightcrawlers? No, dear. I was born much further south near Los Angeles.” She eased onto the edge of the bed. “I have seen jackalopes by the dozens when I was a girl. I'm not quite as sensitive as you, and of course nowhere near as Sister Mary Agnes.”

Penny looked at her hands. “I probably don’t have magic,” she said, frowning.

“It’s more unusual to have it than to not.”

Magic and sensitivity was strong in the Fox family. Aisling—Sister Mary Agnes—told her bits and pieces about the family when she pestered her enough. There were a lot of mages on her grandmother’s side, and while she herself was not a mage, she did marry one. Aisling was the only one of the three children with magic, but the other two—Connor and Keena (Penny’s mother)--had both been sensitive to magic and creatures.

“We should do our lesson in my room,” Mother Mary Clare suggested. “I have some stitching to do, and could use the extra help.”

Penny helped the old woman up, and tried not to focus on how slow she was walking to keep pace with her as they headed for her room. She jumped and spun on the spot as a shriek ripped through the hall. Hurried, heavy footsteps echoed as two bulky nurses rushed by.

“Steady, Penrose,” Mother Mary Clare said soothingly. “It sounds like one of the others is having a moment. Nothing to fret over.”

Her green eyes caught a boy two years older, tossing around on the ground, beating it and kicking as the nurses tried to restrain him. A puzzle lay scattered around him. She inched closer to the Mother and focused on moving ahead.

Penny tore damaged seams from Mother Mary Clare’s old habits and skirts. She listened as the Mother spoke in calm, soothing tones about the earliest days of the Holy Cor, back when they were still heavily integrated in the Church. Fear of demons turned to fear of mages–confusing them with witches and humanoid creatures possessing magic–and the Holy Cor began to retreat from the public eye. With part of their duty being to educate mages so that they were not a danger to others or themselves, they believed the seclusion was best.

She rubbed her thumb over a small, embroidered heart tucked on the underside of a shirt cuff. The heart was surrounded by golden flames and a silver halo; the mark of the Holy Cor.

“Do the Sisters that serve the Holy See have a hidden embroidery,” Penny asked.

“No, that is just for us.” The Mother stitched a hem with steadied practice. “We serve the Holy See as well as the Holy Cor. Our embroidery is just to mark each other should we need to discuss something of the Realm.” She smiled up at Penny. “Such as children. We ensure there are at least two that serve in homes like this to watch for young mages. Others work in hospitals to watch for people injured or sickened by more unusual means.”

“And then you contact the Order of Ferblanc, right?”

“If necessary,” Mother Mary Clare said, nodding. “Magic is power, and power corrupts. They’re needed for the unfortunate times we see this happen.” She shook her head, tutting. “Too many people now ignore God’s laws, and that goes for modern mages too. Penrose, dear, please rip the embroideries out as well. The shirts are going for donation.”

She gathered up the shirts again. She stared at the embroidery for a pause before piercing it and tearing at it.

“Is there something weighing on your mind, child?”

“Only a bit… I’ve heard a little about my mother, but….”

“But, nothing of your father?” Mother Mary Clare nodded knowingly, eyes still fixed on her stitching. “I warned Sister Mary Agnes not to feed into your questions.”

Penny wasn’t sure what Mother Mary Clare knew. She had scolded her before for not using Aisling’s nun name, but she was not certain the Mother had been informed that she was aware that Aisling was her aunt.

Aisling was more forthcoming when speaking about Connor and her parents—Deirdre and Malachy—than she was Keena. Penny put together that the strain between the sisters started around the time Connor died, but she had nothing to grasp beyond that.

“Nothing was mentioned of your father when you were surrendered,” the Mother continued. “He was left off the birth certificate. In this age of unwed mothers, there were no questions asked.”

She mulled over what the Mother said as she continued ripping the embroidered heart. Mother Mary Clare did not know Aisling until she was placed at the home, and did not know her mother. She would have to ask Aisling directly, and the thought made her insides squirm. She had never been brave enough to ask why she was given up, and her father being excluded from her birth certificate fell in that area.

A firm knock sounded, and Mother Mary Bernadette entered upon Mother Mary Clare’s encouragement. Her stern eyes fell to Penny for a long minute before going to the other old woman.

“Mother, little Nathan had another episode,” she said. “Unfortunately, he’s hurt himself. The director wants to see us.”

“Yes; yes, of course.” She struggled up. “We can continue later, Penrose. I’ll find you.”

Penny watched the two elder nuns shuffle off. She went the opposite way and found herself in the multipurpose room. The puzzle was picked up and put away. There was a boy rocking back and forth playing with a fidget popper and four girls tucked in another corner coloring thick books or making beaded bracelets. She hovered where she stood, recognizing that the girls were the various stages of non-verbal ones that lived at the home, and quietly left the room.

She found herself walking towards Aisling’s room without paying any attention. She had spent more than an hour at least with Mother Mary Clare, so gambled that Aisling was finished and didn’t alter her path. She slowed as she approached, the hairs on her neck standing before she even saw that the door was wide open.

“--the creeps,” came an unfamiliar male voice. “Places like this are just prisons.”

“You’re ridiculous,” answered a twinkling, female voice. “You saw those poor kids. They have nowhere else to go.”

“Just hurry up with the packing. I want gone before that Mother comes sniffing around.”

She poked her head around the doorway, keeping her weight on her back foot in case she needed to run for it.

Both figures were the definition of willowy; the man looking as if he was trying to transition out of a goth stage into something more age appropriate, and the woman giving off Christmas elf vibes despite the earthtones. They were removing Aisling’s more commonplace clothes from the small dresser and putting them in a suitcase.

“Ugh,” the man said, peering into the top drawer. “This is not appropriate. Britt should’ve been here.”

“She can’t travel right now. You know that. Oh, move over! I’ll pack the underclothes. See if she has trainers under her bed or something.”

Penny shuffled away with a queasiness in her stomach. These strangers were taking Aisling away. And, they were trying to do it before Mother Mary Clare noticed. She ran for the administration wing. She skidded on the tiled floor as she rounded a corner to stop from colliding with Aisling.

“You’re leaving,” Penny blurted before the young nun could get a word out. “There’s weirdos in your room. Packing up all your clothes.” 

She stepped back, taking in that Aisling was wearing a pair of jeans and black blouse. Her dark hair was still pulled back, but it wasn’t covered by a veil. Her eyes filled with tears as her heart raced. She sniffed, and turned to run off, but was caught by the arm and pulled into a hug.

“Ssh, Penny, it’s okay,” Aisling said softly. “I’m only going for a week or so.”

She stared hopefully up at Aisling, but felt sick dread. Aisling’s dark eyes were full of tears that she was fighting not to shed.

“Something’s wrong… Are you lying? You’re going away forever?”

“No, I’m not lying,” Aisling said. She looked at the floor. “I have a funeral to attend. It’s unexpected, so I'm just a little sad. That’s all.” She patted Penny’s hair. “We can talk when I come back. I don’t want to keep my friends waiting too long.” She hesitated a minute before placing a kiss on Penny’s head. “See you in a week.”

“Okay… Sorry about your loss, Aisling. I’ll light a candle in the chapel tonight.”

Aisling’s mouth screwed up as she either fought speech or a cry. She gave a melancholy smile, wiped her eyes, and hurried off.

Penny stood at a loss. There was no reason for her to be in the administration wing now that Aisling herself clarified what was happening. There was nothing for her in the all purpose room to do or anyone for her to talk to. Mother Mary Clare was still–as far as she knew–busy with other business.

“Ah, Penrose Fox,” a voice came, startling her from her thoughts. 

A pudgy, old man approached with an even pudgier woman with cropped blonde hair that looked as if it had been bleached, dyed something, and the dye washed out. She knew the man as the St. Brigid’s director. It took her a minute longer to realize the woman was her new case worker.

“Hello, Mr. Miller,” Penny mumbled.

“We were just speaking about you,” Mr. Miller said. His fake joyfulness waned at Penny’s long, silent look. “Anywho… Ms. King found you a placement.”

“I wanted to tell you the good news in person,” Ms. King piped in. She smiled a wide, fake smile. “We had such a short time together, but I really enjoyed meeting you.”

Her eyes darted from one to the other. Short was an understatement. They had their first and only meeting last month, and now it sounded like she was already passing her off. It confused her. She hadn’t mentioned fairies, or magic, or anything deemed abnormal during their meeting.

“Wait,” Mother Mary Clare demanded, hobbling as quickly as she was able. “Wait just a moment, Mr. Miller!” Mother Mary Bernadette, stern as usual, walked by her side as if ready to drag her along. “This is too sudden. We must—.”

“Sometimes it’s sudden,” Ms. King said, all niceties dropped. “You might have all the time in the world to mull something over, but in the real world, things move quickly.”

Mother Mary Bernadette grabbed her crucifix and muttered something about patience under her breath as she glared at the case worker.

“Please, Mr. Miller,” Mother Mary Clare pleaded. “Wait a week. Perhaps two. Penrose—.”

“Is a normal, healthy, kid with no behavioral issues or disabilities of any note,” Ms. King said icily. “Keeping her here is cruel and unusual.” She scoffed. “What fixation do you have with her? It’s not normal. It should be looked into.”

“No need to be hasty,” Mr. Miller said nervously. “The Mother Superior just has high empathy and concern. For all children, not just Penrose.”

“She’s far too involved,” Ms. King said sniffily. “Worse than her is that Sister Mary Agnes. Some sick twist of fate that her mother died now to call her off.”

Penny gasped loud enough to draw notice from both Mothers. She hastily shut her mouth, but her lip shook. She had been so casual with Aisling. She should’ve said something more meaningful.

An odd sense of loss crept into her chest.

“This is extremely inappropriate,” Mother Mary Bernadette said. “Not only to drag Sister Mary Agnes’s personal affairs into this, but to be having such conversation in front of little Penrose.” She put a heavy hand on Penny’s shoulder. “The girl is only nine.”

“You can understand Ms. King’s reasons,” Mr. Miller urged. “We have three new arrivals scheduled this week; two of which are non-verbal. It really isn’t fair to keep Penrose here.”

“Of course, but just wait a week,” Mother Mary Clare said. “This isn’t a placement around the corner.”

“Or is it because you want to call this Sister Mary Agnes to interfere," Ms. King said nastily. She fixed Mr. Miller with a stare. “We’ll talk later tonight. You know what’s right here, and it isn’t letting these women run amok. I thought you were in charge?”

She shrank next to Mother Mary Bernadette as her case worker faked a smile at her. Mr. Miller scurried off, sweat clinging to his brow.

“They aren’t wrong,” Mother Mary Bernadette said, “but they are handling it wrong.” She drew herself up. “I’ll try speaking with the director. If only to calm him down.”

“I’m being sent away,” Penny asked once she and Mother Mary Clare were alone. “But… what if I’m a mage? There’s still time.”

Mother Mary Clare shook her head. “It is time for you to try a family again, but I disagree with the hastiness. There is little doubt your new case worker doesn’t favor religious involvement.”

“But, Aisling—Sister Mary Agnes….”

“We can only pray Mother Mary Bernadette gets Mr. Miller to see reason,” she said. “A week gives you time to say your goodbyes, and us time to interview the family.” Her droopy, wrinkled face fell. “I find it distasteful that you are supposed to be sent to them out in West Virginia, then for them to come to you. But that is my burden.”

“W-West Virginia?” Penny paled. “B-but, that’s a different state. That’s hours from here! Days!”

“Hours, Penrose, dear,” Mother Mary Clare said calmly. “I’m sure they won’t oppose to you writing or calling from time to time.”

Her head was filled with static at all these facts. She was being sent farther than ever before, with no option for visits. Aisling was gone, and would return to find her gone. Tears cut down her face and Mother Mary Clare offering a comforting hand made them fall harder.

“Aisling…” she sniffed. “Her mom died. My grandma… I wanted to….” She wiped her eyes with her forearm. “They won’t understand. They’ll give me back too.”

“Don’t go into this with negativity, Penrose,” Mother Mary Clare said. “This could be a long term placement. That would be a great blessing for you.” She ushered Penny into a hug, smoothing her hair. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll send Sister Mary Agnes to bring you back. You’ll have a home here no matter what happens.”

Penny wished the Mother’s words brought their usual comfort.

-------------------------

A little late, but name reveal! Penny is not short for Penelope. Way, way, way back when she was a vague name concept, she probably was a Penelope, but I kept running into the Cornish name 'Penrose' which I felt fit much better since you have Ira and Nellie both having English connections. Keena is apparently Irish/Gaelic in origin (the rest of the family got the same origin when I named them) so just more of a nod than the Greek Penelope.

I didn't name Aisling's (Keena's) friends yet, because I don't know if they're coming back. Out of her band of "supporting characters" they're the most inconsequental. Silas is the most prominent storywise, and he was introduced in Nellie's book/s. Britt (Arden's mom) was too. Which, the reason Britt can't travel is either she's very close to Arden being born or he's recently born. I didn't tack down a birth month for him, and the months are vague in this (summer sometime since Penny isn't in school).

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July 18, 2026
DO.Penny.1

The fluorescent overhead emitted a dull hum. It filled the cramped office overflowing with untidy boxes of files with a too-bright white light. It flickered, drawing her green eyes up to the humidity stained ceiling.

“And you like to be called Penny,” said the frumpy, rail- thin woman. She peered at Penny over thick glasses that magnified her chunky mascara. “Hm… Penny. It's cute. Hm… your last case worker didn't leave me much to work with….”

Penny kicked her feet, her toes brushing the floor. “I think they didn’t stay even a year?”

“Hm…,” the case worker murmured noncommittally. “St. Brigid’s Home is your primary residence…” She looked at Penny over her glasses. “Are you forced to go to Mass?”

“I don’t know,” Penny said, still swinging her legs.

“Don’t know….” The case worker flipped through the folder. “Been in care since infancy. Surrendered… Nothing else on the mother… No mention of father whatsoever….”

“My other name is Fox,” Penny said helpfully. “That came from my mom.”

The case worker gave her a tired, thin smile. She set the folder aside but kept it open. She set her gaze on Penny, keeping silent long enough for the small girl to start squirming.

“Do you like living in the group home? Do you feel you get enough attention?”

A soft knock sounded on the doorframe, the office having no door but only half a curtain. The young woman’s plain, dark shoes, black stockings, and ankle length blue-gray skirt were visible before she gently brushed the curtain aside. She wore a matching blue-gray veil pinned to her black hair and a smile that matched the softness she had knocked with.

“Sister,” Penny greeted joyfully, jumping off her chair.

“I assume you’re from St. Brigid’s,” the case worker asked.

“I am. Sister Mary Agnes,” she said with a small incline of her head. She smiled down at Penny, offering her hand. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Can we talk a moment first,” the case worker asked. She gestured to the open file. “Her file is really bare. I could use a little help.”

The Sister hesitated. She gave Penny another smile–this one more forced–and gave her a light push towards the doorway.

“Please, wait in the hall for me,” she said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Penny gave the Sister a quizzical look but went into the hall without fuss. She leaned against the wall and casually looked up and down the hall at the other case workers’ offices. Murmurs and mutters from the other doorless offices filled the hall in an uninteresting muddle.

“Mary Agnes, you said? How long have you been involved with Penny?”

“Always… to some degree. I’m acquainted with her birth mother. In a caretaker role, I’d say the last two years. …Of course, I’m only one of many Sisters.”

“Hm… she was in specialized infant care, I assume? Then to the home… then to a family…. What happened there? It’s more common for young children to stay with families than go back to a group home. Learning disability? Behavioral issue?”

“You would have to ask the Mother Superior.”

“Would you oppose her placement with a family?”

“My opinion matters naught in that.”

“Is she forced to attend Mass and other religious activities?”

The Sister laughed lightly. “Ma’am, she missed Mass for this interview with you.”

“Her file is still unusually bare.”

“Well… I’m not sure what sorts of things are usually in a six-year-old’s file….”

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll be in touch.”

Penny eagerly took Sister Mary Agnes’s hand as she left the office. She watched the rundown town give way to ill-kempt lawns, and then to a stretch of woods after a sharp turn in the road. A large building that looked like an old one-story nursing home sat on top of a gently sloping hill behind an iron fence that was rusted in some areas and broken in others.

An old woman with gnarled hands and sagging eyes met them in the foyer. She had a tallness to her despite being stooped on a walking stick. Her outfit was the same color blue-gray as Sister Mary Agnes’s, but her veil and skirt were longer and she wore a clunky crucifix around her neck.

Sister Mary Agnes hastily dropped Penny’s hand.

“How did you like your new case worker, Penrose, dear?”

Penny shrugged. “Guess okay.”

“An okay first meeting can only go up from there. Run along and wash up. Snack will be served soon.”

Penny hurried from the foyer, but slowed when she realized Sister Mary Agnes was not following. She turned a corner, waivered, and doubled back.

“--found a family for her.”

“She already did? And already called you?” Sister Mary Agnes scowled. “That is a bit too fast, isn’t it? I only left the office fifteen minutes ago.”

“Penrose is a pretty child. Foster mothers can easily imagine dressing her up and doing her hair.”

“Forgive me, Mother Mary Clare, but I worry about the foster mothers wanting a pretty, little girl to play doll with, and I worry more about the foster fathers also wanting a pretty, little girl.”

“You should not think the worst of people, Sister Mary Agnes.”

“Sorry….”

“I don’t need an apology,” the Mother said. “It is not me that wants you to bring the good out in others.”

Penny shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Sister Mary Agnes wore a strange, uncharacteristically disgruntled expression on her fair face.

“You are much too close to this,” the Mother said. “You did right to disclose your relationship to her when you requested to join us, but you also promised that was secondary to your vows to serve our Lord through our Lady.”

“Yes… Mother Superior.”

“She may be your niece, but you are to serve all the children equally. You are an aunt to all of them. And you should do what is best by them, and that is placing them with families.”

“Yes, Mother Superior….”

“Take heart, Sister,” the Mother said kindly. “We often receive updates and Christmas cards from former charges. This will not be the last you hear from her.”

Two days later, Penny found herself once more in the car with Sister Mary Agnes. The ride was much longer than going into town to visit the case worker. It was quieter with an uneasier air.

The scene outside the window had a few rundown houses, some mobile homes, and a lot of trees that somehow came across sad and old. One of the homes had nicer flowerbeds and a littering of toys in the small, front yard. Three cars were crowded in the narrow driveway. The case worker stood outside in the yard with a middle-aged couple, a teen girl, a girl near Penny’s age, and a toddler dressed in blue overalls.

“They look nice,” the Sister said. “The little girl could be your new best friend.”

“Maybe…,” Penny muttered. “Do Sisters have last names?”

“We do,” she said, looking in the rearview. “Our birth names are still our legal names. My driver’s license doesn’t say Sister Mary Agnes, for example.”

“Then… we still have the same name,” Penny asked.

The smile slowly fell from the Sister’s face. She turned in her seat, fixing Penny with a surprised and sad expression. She offered her hand which Penny reached forward to take.

“Call, write, whatever you want whenever you need me,” she said. “I’m only an hour away. You can visit if you want.” She nodded towards the family. “You just have to ask. They seem kind. I’m sure they’ll allow it.”

The placement lasted six months.

She found herself in her case worker's office with her about-to-be former foster mother. Her toes dragged now no matter if she was kicking or not. The light above still buzzed and flickered in an annoying way.

The case worker stared at the new notes in the file with a puzzled frown. She pursed her lips and straightened up, setting her stare upon the foster mother.

“I’m not understanding the issue,” she said carefully. Her eyes momentarily darted to Penny. “She’s six.”

“Almost seven,” Penny chimed up.

“I can’t explain it any better,” the foster mother said stiffly. “And I won’t with her sitting here.”

“Ma’am… you want to give her back because she believes in fairies,” the case worker said bluntly.

“No. No, that makes it sound—. It’s more than that. It’s….” She shot to her feet. “I’m allowed to give them back if they don’t adjust to the family. We’ve tried. It isn’t working.” She looked down at Penny with pity and apprehension. “I hope you can get the help you need, Penny. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? It isn’t your fault.”

She stalked from the office, nearly colliding with Sister Mary Agnes on her way out. She muttered “good luck” at her before vanishing down the hall.

Penny smiled and waved eagerly at the Sister as she came to stand by her chair. She rested her thin hand on her shoulder, and returned her smile.

“Can I take Penny back now,” the Sister asked.

“You don’t want to know why the placement didn’t work?”

“I believe it not appropriate to talk about that in front of the child. The Mother Superior is expecting a full report though.”

The case worker tapped her fingers on her desk. “Hm… if you have time, I’ll give her a call now to give her the gist and see what she wants to do from there.”

She took the Sister’s hand and went out into the hall. She tried to settle against the wall just outside the open doorway, but the Sister took her further down, away from the offices, to an old, beaten bench at the start of the hall. Penny leaned forward to stare back down the hall at the office.

“Curious,” the Sister asked, a smirk tugging her lips.

“Do you believe in fairies,” Penny asked.

“Of course. I’ve seen a fairy or two in my time.”

Her green eyes lit up. She stopped looking down the hall and stared up at the Sister’s face. There were no signs of lying; her smile was gentle as usual, not teasing. She peered down the hall to make sure no one was coming, and slid closer to the Sister.

“Is this because we’re related,” she whispered.

“I think so…” 

The Sister also checked the hall, more apprehensively. She held her palm flat, turning to shield it from the hall. She held a finger to her lips to indicate quiet, and a second later a bright, golden light emanated from her outstretched palm. The light bubbled like a fountain slowly turning on, and formed into a tiny golden flower.

Penny gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth to stop her squeal of delight. She gave a small, disappointed “aww” when the flower was snuffed out.

“Magic sensitivity is strong in our family. I think that’s why you’re having trouble in your placements; because, this is not something most people have.”

“Is it a secret,” Penny asked breathlessly.

The Sister’s expression turned from gentle into something Penny couldn’t define. She seemed sad, but also kind of angry.

“Not on purpose,” she said carefully. “People just… stopped believing. I don’t know if forcing belief would do more harm than good.”

“Like with God?”

“Similar, at least,” she said with a small laugh. The light fell from her dark eyes as they fell upon her hand. “This is a gift from God, but sometimes people dispute that. Even those who have high faith.”

“Does Mother Mary Clare know you have magic?”

“She does. She serves the Holy Cor same as me, but the other Sisters and Mother Mary Bernadette do not. Mother Mary Clare believes it is best to do our service in silence, and keep our connections to the Realm quiet.” She smiled at Penny, patting her hair. “I’ll explain what I can of that later. Now that you’re older, I’m sure the Mother won’t mind me tutoring you between my other duties.”

“Am I a witch too,” Penny asked eagerly.

“I’m not a witch. I’m a mage. Witches are something different. As for you, I don’t know yet. You might just be sensitive. Your moth—.”

The Sister stopped. Her eyes went over Penny’s head, down the hall. She stood with a gentle smile once more on her face, and stepped forward to meet the case worker before she reached the bench. They exchanged some words Penny couldn’t hear from her seat before the Sister returned.

“Mother Mary Clare wants us home,” she said. “The goal is still to place you with a family, but we have all the time before then.”

They reentered St. Brigid’s hand in hand, but Sister Mary Agnes quickly dropped Penny’s hand when Mother Mary Clare stepped from her office to cut them off. A large woman, just as old or older, joined them. Mother Mary Bernadette wore her usual severe expression.

“Well then, Penrose,” Mother Mary Bernadette said, staring down at Penny, “back again? No matter. I’ve decided to add my resources as well.” Penny shrank back from the Mother’s attempted smile. “We will find you a proper home. Never fear.”

The two elder nuns exchanged a look as Mother Mary Bernadette walked off. Mother Mary Clare gave Penny a nervous smile and a pat on the head.

“I’m sorry, Penrose, dear,” she said. “Mother Mary Bernadette was in my office when your case worker called.”

“Is that bad,” Penny asked.

“No… That’s too negative for her want to help you,” the Mother said. Her pale, watery eyes met Sister Mary Agnes’s. “She’s heard about the fairies. She doesn’t believe it to be more than a child’s imagination, but she wants to keep an eye on it. …The foster mother’s notes were rather hysterical.”

“Actually, I was telling Penny that she’s old enough to start learning about the Realm,” the Sister said. “After all my other duties, of course. And, only until her next placement.”

The Mother took a long, hard stare at Penny, making her squirm. “Does she have magic?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. She’s still young, so she could. Or, she could just be sensitive to it.”

“One is more manageable than the other in placing her with a family….” The Mother hobbled towards her office. “I’ll hold Mother Mary Bernadette at bay. We at the very least need to know if she’s a mage before she’s placed again.”

Penny beamed up at Sister Mary Agnes once they were left alone. She grabbed her hand and yanked her into a brisk walk, eager to hear all about magic.

--------------------------------

Using the Dragon Orphans (but abbriviated) for the title! I'm not sure how to ex[lain/better show the group home structure. There aren't any nun run orphanages anymore, but there are still group homes (usually for problem kids) that have some Catholic Charities influence, so nuns will go serve in them. But, since Penny's early story touches more on the Holy Cor, I'm mostly showing the nuns with case worker meetings.

The Brothers and Sisters follow a lot of the Marian Order traditions, so all Sisters have 'Mary' as the first half of their name. I picked Agnes because my great grandmother was an Agnes, and it is apparently a commonish name for nuns to pick if they've experiences some type of loss. Agnes also starts with 'A' the same as her birth/legal name. (Mary Agnes is named Aisling and will be called that in chpt 2, so not a spoiler.)

I was going to have Penny spot a fairy as she was being passed over to that foster family, but it was much more jarring to not do that. Then you get the confusion with her case worker like 'okay she's a little girl and they like fairies'. Case worker was not named because, not a spoiler, Penny will have a different one next chapter. They have a very high rate of burnout and turnover.

I did not expect this chapter to urn out this quick, lol. I'm rushing a bit to get what needs covered in her childhood done.

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