Firebrand Risk
Art • Lifestyle • Writing • Culture
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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“Hey there, cutie,” a voice cooed nearby.

He cringed. It was still just as sleazy, however.

He purposefully scanned the room, bypassing the stares of many patrons who were blatantly eyeing him. His eyes fell upon the corner booth and squinted to focus. When he found the familiar figure at the table, his lips couldn’t help but pull to a smirk.

He walked directly to the booth—past the smoke, drinks, cards, stares, and legs—and set his guitar case on the ground beside it. 

The wide-brimmed, feathery hat of the booth’s occupant scarcely turned his direction, continuing to block the light from the hanging bulb over the table. 

“Fancy a game of Blackjack?”

The hat tilted at these words, but the eyes were still out of sight.  “Who’s dealing,” came her voice.

“I believe you are.” Ace grinned.

His password was accepted: the brim tilted up and the warm light lit her ebony skin as she flashed a smile. “Gallagher. Boy, has it been a while.” Despite an unassuming purple cloak that covered her shoulders, she still created an air of confidence that poured from her brown eyes and bounced off the black ringlets that fell from her hat. “I’d thought for sure you’d given it all up.”

“I only have one to play this time, Jacqueline.” Ace slipped gently onto the bench across from her. His pale complexion seemed to glow in the harsh light, and with the light in his eyes he quickly remembered why Jacqueline always wore a hat.

Jacqueline’s lips pressed into a pout. “Ah, I see. Must be really important, then, if it’s dragging you out of retirement. You were one of my best; one I could always count on every week.”

The former gambler smiled at the table. “I want to run 447.”

Her eyes widened as her thin brows arched into the hat. “The number of engagement!” She kept her voice low despite her obvious surprise. “I think I understand what’s been keeping you!” She chuckled and rested her chin on the laced gloves that wrapped her hand. “I suppose congratulations are in order?”

“Not just yet,” Ace hid the flushing of his face by giving his cheeks a quick rub. “If I win, it’s all going to buy her a ring.”

“Ooh,” Jacqueline’s smile widened, “you know, they say you get a little more luck when you run for a good cause.”

“I’ll take all the luck I can get,” Ace watched as the number runner turned to a bag at her side and pulled out a small, leather-bound booklet.

She tugged at a ribbon bookmark and opened the booklet flat on the table. Her fingers delicately ran across the lines of ink, written in a code only she would understand. Her lips pulled askew.  “Someone’s already called that one.”

“What? Ugh,” Ace slumped back. “Of course they would.”

Jacqueline’s finger pointed upward. “Now, now—I still have you covered. How about we look up the number for her name, or some other quality about her?” She paused, looking up into her hat. “How about we run the number for a ring?”

Ace’s confidence returned. “Oh—perfect—yes!”

Jacqueline held her hand out flat to quiet him.

“Sorry,” Ace said softer. Number running was an illegal trade in the territories under Daethos’ rule; only those who knew Jacqueline’s business knew how and where to find her, and they were very keen on keeping it that way.

Jacqueline turned back to her bag and slipped out a larger book. The pages were worn from age and use, but both of these contributed to her finding the section of the book for Ace’s new number relatively quickly. “080,” she said succinctly as her finger stopped on the entry in the book, “the number for rings.” She glanced back at the smaller booklet and scanned the lines with her eyes. “No one has chosen it this week.”

“I’ll run it.” Ace pulled a few coins from the pouch at his side and slid them carefully across the table.

Her fingers fell upon his before they released the money. “If you double it, I’ll set the standard bet higher for the rest of the week; make the pot bigger.”

The green-eyed man narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“I am allowed one favor per week,” she explained, retracting her hand. “I’ll give it to you to help your cause.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You would actually change the standard bet for me?”

“Of course.”

“Even if all your regulars walk up right after I leave?”

“I can’t say it any louder.” She tapped her fingertips on the table with a subtle fierceness.

Ace took in a deep breath. He was already giving up more than he had hoped, and now he would have next to nothing left to pay Vance for rent; but everything he put in would come back to him—plus a lot more—if he won. He swallowed and nodded.

“Thank you,” Jacqueline accepted the second set of coins from Ace and hid them away.

“So, where's the number getting pulled from this week?”

“Now, you know I’m not allowed to say.” The dark eyed woman flashed him a look as she penciled Ace’s number into her book.

“Come on,” Ace attempted a hasty smile, “you can’t give me a hint as a welcome-back gift?”

“Is my favor not enough for you?” The look grew even more intense as her eyes narrowed.

“Alright, alright,” Ace sat back. “Thanks, Jacqueline.”

“Anytime.” She folded up her books and returned them to her bag. “It’s good to see you, Gallagher. You know, you can always stop by even if you’re not playing.”

“I was honestly not even sure you’d be here. I remember when you got kicked out at the Mallard after two months.”

“The Mallard… that’s aging yourself right there.” Jacqueline fingered her smile. “They caught on fast.  But the folks here are either extremely oblivious or just don’t care. I’ve been quite fortunate.” She gave her hat the smallest of tips. “Check in the usual place on Monday for the number.”

“Will do. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

Ace slipped out of the booth with a final grin, took his guitar case by the handle, and returned to the door. He could feel the familiar spark in his veins; the heat of adrenaline and the rush of confidence. It had been quite a few years since he had felt it, but it felt the same as it always had: warm and inviting…

He inhaled a puff of cigar smoke and choked. He had spent enough time here.

 

----

Oh man I'm not sure why I like this one so much; I was devastated when I thought I lost it; but I just had it saved in a different spot on my main hard drive all along 🙄 I think it's just a fun interaction between Ace and someone who's known him a while and has enough spunk to make a lasting impression.

I remember the moment I was inspired to write it; I was driving to ladies choir practice and caught the beginning of an NPR show with a woman talking about growing up with her mom being a number runner - basically an illegal form of lottery. I was so intrigued about the concept (like most gambling things. kind of hilarious how completely interested I can be about learning about gambling, but I have zero interest in doing it - perhaps because I have learned so much lol). So when I got back home I looked up the audio to listen to the rest of the show, and I knew I had to include the concept in Fortanya, since folks there are well versed in all the games and ways to bet on things. And it fit in really well as a start to Ace's spiral back into making terrible decisions all for the sake of trying to get enough money to buy Athena a ring. 

BUT... spoiler alert... after losing the joust, he returns to Fortanya to some very good news - and that's how the soon-to-be newlywed Gallaghers get their house ;)

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February 24, 2025
Warning
A Tale of Ace Gallagher Short from Book #1

A spattering of applause followed as Ace bowed, set down the guitar, and returned to his table.

Athena was both leaning on her hand and using it to cover her mouth and chin. She took one look at Ace's ear-to-ear grin and added her other hand to her ever-reddening cheeks.

“So?” Ace slid back into the seat breathily.

“I’m not sure I like all this attention,” Athena spoke through her hands and flashed him a coy glance. “But you play–and sing–really well.”

“I had good inspiration.” He admitted as his own cheeks flushed pink.

Athena relocated her hands under her chin. “You are quite the charmer, Ace.” Her expression faded when she noticed Ace’s head droop, struggling against the pain from his ever-worsening curse–despite trying to hide it behind a clenched fist.

When he glanced up, his expression soured for a completely different reason. 

“Well, if it isn’t Ace Gallagher,” the first of two young women stepped up to the table, her body twisting within a short, clingy black dress as she spoke. “I must say I’m surprised.”

“Surprised you’d risk showing your face again after all you did the last time you were in Montrose.” The second added as she casually leaned her hip against the table beside him. Her ruffled skirt had a slit up to her mid-thigh, and she was sure to twist it towards Ace.

The young man grunted to clear his throat, glancing between a somewhat confused Athena and the two women. “Oh yeah?”

The first girl sneered. “You left quite a few casualties in your wake.” She gave a quick glance to Athena, who seemed both confused and concerned. “Sweetheart, allow me to break it to you easy–you're not the first lady he’s ever sung that song to.”

“Or the second,” the other added, rolling her eyes.

Athena’s mouth opened, but Ace was quick to recover the attention. “All right, ladies; if your issue’s with me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave her out of this.”

“Oh, this concerns her too,” she put up a hand to shield her mouth from Ace. “Watch where he puts his hands,” she hissed a whisper.

“Hey!” Ace spouted, banging both hands onto the table. He caught Athena’s eyes for a moment before the girls again pulled them away.

“Also, when you leave, you’d better make sure you have everything you came in with.” She narrowed her eyes at Ace. “The cozier he gets, the more will end up ‘missing’.”

Ace's fingers clenched. “That's not fair!”

“What you do isn't fair!” She spat.

“Look: I’m sorry–is that what you're looking for??” Ace’s brows were heavily furrowed as his breathing grew increasingly labored.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t undo what you've done!” The girl mocked, sliding her hip across the side of the table and leaning into his face. “‘Sorry’ means nothing when you’re still stealing from any woman you can charm!”

Ace was pressed as far against the back of his chair as he could be, his face flushed from anger, disappointment, and the confrontation itself. “Is there anything else you’d like to say while you're accosting me?” His voice was a raspy whisper.

The two girls turned to Athena. 

Her expression and stiffened posture remained guarded as she looked back at them.

“I think we’ve made our point.” One said without even a glance over her shoulder. “Come on, Jess.”

The young women sauntered away, returning to their seats at a table with two other women, joining their pairs of eyes to the glares beating down from across the room.

Ace grunted to clear his throat, his body relaxing as the threat settled. “Sheesh,” he raked his fingers through his hair almost nervously. “Now we’ve really got all the attention.”

Athena turned her head away from the stares and looked cautiously upon Ace. “Can we step outside?”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

The young woman stood and started to the door with Ace struggling to keep up. He had scarcely stepped outside when Athena abruptly turned around.

“Was that true?”

Ace straightened up. “What?”

“Was what they said true?”

He wheezed in a deep breath, watching Athena’s once warm eyes turn cold. “Come on,” he said nervously, “don’t tell me you're letting them get to you. You know how–uh–exes can be sometimes–”

“Do you really steal from any woman you can charm?” Athena repeated their words bluntly. 

The gambler could tell bluffing would no longer work. “When you’re desperate and starving on the streets,” his voice softened, “you sometimes do things you're not proud of.”

Athena’s form sunk with disappointment. “So, was I next?” Her words were barely a whisper.

“What–no!” His fist clenched at his chest.

“How can I be sure?”

Ace's jaw went slack. “I'm gonna get this from you, too?”

“I’d like to know if I can trust you.”

“You can,” he answered succinctly.

“Not if I’m the next pawn in your game,” Athena frowned.

“Pawn,” Ace grit his teeth and coughed, “that's absolutely not what you are!”

“Then, look me straight in the eye and tell me you weren’t just going to steal from me,” she took a step closer to him, “that all this singing and charming and rescuing isn’t just some ploy to get something out of me.”

Ace hesitated as realization struck. After years of taking all he could, he had never once thought of stealing from Athena. He had never once thought about how he could use her to his advantage. He had reached into his own money bag to pay for her rescue without a single thought to what could have happened next, and in return, she had been kind to him. That was all he could have asked for.

Athena’s lips pressed tightly as Ace lingered in silent thought. “I think I need to go.”

Ace jolted out of his mind. “Wait!”

“I’m sorry,” Athena backed up. “I really do hope you can get healed from the curse, but I think it’s best if you finish without me.”

“Athena!” He reached for her hand, though she kept it out of reach, “I would never steal from you! You are not a pawn! I–I may have sang that song to other people, but, I swear, this is the first time it's ever felt right–” 

“Then, maybe we can catch up in Fortanya,” she dismissed him and turned away.

“Athena, please!!” He struggled to breathe and retain his composure as the woman walked gracefully away from him. He could not immediately find the strength to run after her; he could not cause his feet to move.

He could only watch as she continued down the road in silent agony.

“Allan!” She called, squinting at the skies in an attempt to find the black bird against the darkening sky. She whistled his call as she continued walking, but she still received no answer. “Where is he…”

She had barely turned the corner when she was met by Mioko as he approached from camp.

“Hey Athena!” Mioko's smile was quick to fade when he noticed her pained expression. “What's up?”

Athena attempted a smile. “I just... I need to head back.”

“Oh, okay,” the Weivan nodded, allowing her to pass. He paused, turning as a heaviness filled his chest. “Back to camp, or back to Fortanya?”

Athena glanced over her shoulder at him. Her face was bent with disappointment, tainted with a hint of sadness. She could not immediately find words to speak; she could only turn and continue on to camp to collect her belongings.

Mioko watched her for a moment before returning his attention to the street. He quickly pointed out a familiar face approaching from across the road.

“Dorian,” he rushed toward him, “did you see Ace?”

The Kalgaran had initially backed up when the Weivan came at him. “No; why?”

“I think something happened,” he turned as his hand pointed behind him. “Athena just came back without him and went back to camp… I think something may have happened between them.”

“All the more reason to stay out of this,” Dorian muttered and attempted to step past him.

“I just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mioko, instead, stepped into his path. “We need everyone to continue on the mission.”

“Technically, we only need you and Ace,” Dorian tilted his head in an attempt to look around Mioko. “You’re the one who knows the counter-curse Ace needs. The rest of us are just here because…” He trailed off.

“Because Ace owes you potions?” Mioko replied, eyeing him.

“Yeah,” he draped his thumbs on his pants pockets.

Mioko nodded. “Well, I guess we can just go back to camp and wait to see if he comes back soon. I haven’t seen Hylas in a while, either.”

“Didn’t he say he was going to check with the Patrol office here? Also, we told everyone we were leaving for the mountains tomorrow. What’s it matter where they’re up to tonight–”

A rustling in the bushes beside them garnered both of their attention. 

As the shadowed figure stepped into the street light, Dorian quickly unslung his staff and thrust it at the young woman who appeared.

“Wait,” the Amorfian threw up her hands. “I mean no harm.”

“Then, stay there,” Dorian inched the staff further.

“Dorian,” Mioko glanced at him, only to look back at the tall Amorfian before them. “What do you need, miss?”

The Amorfian gave Dorian a weak scowl before turning her silver eyes to Mioko. “I’m sorry for overhearing but… did you say Hylas?”

“I did,” Mioko answered, still looking at her in awe. “He’s traveling with us; though, I haven’t seen him since we set up camp.”

“Oh,” her eyes fell away. The furred collar that draped over her shoulders was soon hidden behind her long black hair as she turned her head. Her deep black dress aided in blending her back into the shadows–save from her pale arms and legs.

“But you can stay with us until he returns.”

“What??” Doran finally broke eye contact with the Amorfian to shoot Mioko an incredulous look. “She’s the one who tried to steal your totem the other night!”

“Her?” Mioko gazed at her, half-dumbfounded and half-taken aback.

She wrinkled her nose at Dorian in disgust. “Oh, like you’ve never made a mistake in your whole life.”

“You accidentally tried to steal from him?”

“No,” she barked at him, only for her voice to soften, “I simply know, now, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have been so desperate…”

The Weivan could see the guilt in her wandering eyes, and he took a small step forward. “I can imagine it’s difficult to be so far from your home. Did you come here to look for Hylas?”

“And what is he doing so far away from his home?” Dorian added under his breath.

“The same could be asked of you, Kalgaran” her eyes narrowed on him. “I didn’t think any of your kind were allowed to leave after your king was murdered.”

“Hold on,” Mioko stepped between the two when he noticed Dorian’s bristling. “Making jabs at each other isn’t helping anything,” he stood firmly. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re all waiting for people, so you can wait with us until Hylas and the others return. Then we can decide who needs to continue on to break the curse with Ace.”

“Curse?” The Amorfian’s bitter expression lightened.

A scream broke out in the forest nearby, silencing all three.

“...Was that Athena?” Mioko asked worriedly, eyes darting into the distance.

- - -

Disappointed and upset, Athena walked briskly down the streets of Montrose. She clutched the straps for her sword and her bag of belongings–both slung over her right shoulder after her brief stop at camp. The street lights stationed along the way were bright, blocking her ability to see past them. In the spaces between them, however, she continued to scan the skies for Allan.

She again whistled his call, slowing to a stop and holding out her arm. “Come on, Allan!”

A croaking sound swooped past her, and a raven fluttered onto a wooden sign of a building across the street.

“Oh,” she sighed with relief. “You were worrying me!” With another whistle, she held up her forearm higher.

The black bird tilted his head and leapt from the sign. He again swooped past her arm and flew down the cross street instead.

“Hey!” Athena darted after him. The street lights were sparsely placed on the cross road, and she quickly lost him in the shadows. “Allan!” Judging by the flapping of his wings, she rushed down the road until its stone-paved surface gave way to a grassy glen.

She caught a glimpse of him in the moonlight before he slipped into the forest.

“He must think we’re going back to camp,” she grit her teeth and ran after. “No!” She called and gave another whistle. “Come back! Allan!”

She fought through low-hanging branches and pushed through patches of moonlight until she ran straight into Hylas.

“Oh!” She bumped into him as the man held out his hands. “Sorry–I’m–chasing after Allan–did you see him?”

“Shh,” Hylas laid his hand on her shoulder and attempted to calm the young woman as she caught her breath, “deep breaths.”

Athena stepped back. “Sorry.”

The Amorfian’s silver eyes glistened as he eyed the bag on her back. “Are you going somewhere?”

She instinctively touched the straps still on her arm. “Oh, um,” she paused, “yeah, I’m… heading back to Fortanya.”

“Alone? At this time of night?”

“Well, once I find Allan, I’ll probably just go stay at an inn until morning…”

Hylas stepped forward just as she took a step back. “Are you not going to continue with us?” He paused, waiting for an answer that never came. “Is everything all right?”

The young woman frowned, finding concern in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

He scooted closed. “It’s Ace, isn’t it,” he said simply. “He hurt you.”

Athena stopped moving away, pausing. “What–how did you…”

“I could see a connection growing between you,” he glanced aside. “And since he’s not here with you now…”

She sighed. “He disappointed me,” she admitted.

“It’s such a shame. He seems nice, but I’ve heard it from more than a few Patrolmen: he’s a wanted man.”

“Wanted?” Athena turned her head slightly towards him.

“Patrol has been instructed to keep an eye on him. Without real evidence, he has to be caught in the act or in an altercation before he can be captured for thievery,” his eyes slid back to her, “but I’m sure you know he’s a gambler too. It’s only a matter of time before he gets careless–and gets caught.”

A pang of regret pulsed through her. Despite everything she had just heard, thinking of Ace as a criminal didn’t seem right. Would a man with no remorse admit that he had done something wrong? Or perhaps he truly did feel different around her–enough to confess something he may never have confessed before.

“I need to go find him,” she muttered to herself and started to turn.

She jumped as Hylas took her elbow.

“But, you don’t need someone like him,” he held her arm firmly. “A gambler and a thief is no man for such a beautiful woman as yourself... he’ll always care about luck more than you... and luck is such a fragile thing...”

Athena felt her back against a tree.  She was so distracted she didn’t even realize she had moved until Hylas held her arms against it.

“...Almost as fragile as you are...”

“Hylas,” Athena gazed up at him as he held her tighter.

A toothy grin spread across his face.

She tried to wrench her arms out of his grasp to no avail. She gnashed her teeth and tried to kick him, but she was shoved backward into the tree and held firmly against it with his body. Pinned, she threw her head into his chin.

He yelled and recoiled, but only held Athena tighter as tiger-like claws poked into her arms and fangs inched closer to her cheek.

Athena screamed–only for Hylas to clap his clawed hand against her mouth.

“I’d shut up and hold still if I were you.” He sneered.

 

-----

Eeep. I forgot about this part, lol. But I had part of it rewritten so I finished it out for another short.

I fleshed out the tavern scene since... honestly I'm not sure what prompts Athena to freak out and leave in the first draft, but having two of Ace's "exes" show up and show just how much of a not so nice kind of person he's been really drove that home. I also hate but love how Ace's hesitance is from realizing "oh dang this girl really is different" but that hesitation makes Athena think he can't actually look her in the eye and say it. Oof.

Hylas has been kind of a creep around Athena prior to this, and this makes his true intentions known. Athena walks through the dimly lit forest in the original, but I felt as a single lady (even though she can defend herself) she'd be a lot smarter than that and take the route through town. But geting distracted and led away from passer-bys and street lights made that fit a little better.

Never fear, however, because Ace also heard the scream and runs to the rescue!

After all that gets settled is when the "Giselle" sketch takes place - and Athena learns whole truth about Ace's 'history'. I'm acually filling in gaps, omgosh.

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February 16, 2025
Children of the Moon

Pay no attention to the writing on the wall
The words seem empty cause there's nothing there at all
We let the wise men beat the drums too soon
We were just children of the moon

No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could...

Children, children of the moon watch the world go by
Children, children of the moon hiding from the sky...

~Alan Parsons Project, Children of the Moon

This is a redraw of a pencil artwork of the "original 5" gang from the Tale of Ace Gallagher....... that I drew 20 years ago. WHAT. It was fun to give it a fresh digital look with all the skillz I have now!

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