Firebrand Risk
Kalon 5
April 21, 2025

It was still early enough for the corner store to be quiet. Kalon propped her elbows on the counter, leaning on them heavily to peer through the gaps in the beaded curtain that separated out the backroom.

Innit stood off to the side with his back to the counter, picking out random items to give his hands something to do.

“Those are good.” Kalon nodded to the packet of candies he held. “My friend’s mother makes them.”

“I ain’t much on the hard candy.” He put it back and started pawing the rack of leaflets on the town’s going-ons. “Reminds me too much of when I was a kid.”

“Ah, got it. I still hate the very smell of baked beans in tomato sauce.”

Innit’s eyes widened. “Tomato…? You mean ketchup?” He wrinkled his nose. “Y’all bake your beans in ketchup?”

Kalon was saved from explaining by the proprietor returning from behind the beaded curtain. She straightened up to give him room to place a small, clear box of sopping rags.

“Here you are, Miss Gousa. These should help your grandfather’s back pain a bit. Anything else?”

She looked at Innit. “Did you want anything?”

Innit looked startled and hastily shook his head, stepping towards the door.

Kalon smiled apologetically to the proprietor. She paid, and trotted after Innit as he retreated outside. She took brisk strides in her lacy knee-high boots to catch him.

“Did I say something?”

“No. I reckon I ain’t used to girls waitin’ on me.”

“Waiting on you, is it? I was unaware offering to buy you a snack qualified.”

Innit pulled the box of rags from her hands. “I’ll carry it.”

“Is this you waiting on me?”

Innit muttered something about unbelieve or ungrateful, but the smirk tugging onto his thin lips betrayed him. She gently nudged him with her shoulder. He bumped her back after a pause.

Kalon left Innit at the stairs as she headed into the basement dwelling to drop off the medicated compresses. She double checked with both Gramps and Grams that there was no pressing business, reapplied her scented oils, and headed back up.

“You’ve helped me make fast work lately. I can skip out today.”

“To do… what?”

“The same thing as here. Minus the building.” 

She led him out into the sun and back towards the corner store. They kept going, crossing over the skeletal remains of the mass transport system, and veered north. The building thinned on the other side of a large boulevard, more trees and greenery appearing.

“That road will run into any of the ones going to Paris Colony or Marseille Colony.” She stepped up on a stone to step over the short wall it fell from. “Dijon was marked for a colony several times since the system was implemented, but the damage from the derailed trains and crashed aeroplanes was too much of a mess early on.”

“And now?”

Kalon shrugged. “Perhaps it is still on a list somewhere. King Ea does not seem very ambitious from all I’ve read. He must be satisfied with how things stand.” She grabbed at the weeds hanging in front of her with both hands, yanking them to no avail.

Innit pulled them to the side like a curtain.

Beyond lay a sprawling, overgrown lawn. The wide pathways were still visible by way of there being less grass. Wildflowers that were once not formed clusters but dotted the area at random. There were waterways and those were surprisingly well kept, as were what could be seen of various buildings at that location.

“This is random.”

“It was a botanical garden.” Kalon led the way through the weeds. “It wasn’t uncommon for cities to build them to give more nature to the area. Supposed to be calming or such. Colonies are full of them.”

“Colonies… right.”

She studied his sour expression, frowning. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards the nearest bunch of flowers.

“Look at these, Innit. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Reminds me of that book you showed me the day we met. Not the dead wife ones. The scenery ones.” He stared out at the overgrown garden. “What do you think of colonies? Do you want this place to be one?”

Kalon bopped the nearest flower with her toes. It was a thought that popped into her head, moreso with reading of the recent annexation.

“Rather an odd question. Colonies just exist. I don’t have any thought on them other than that. Oh, except that they remind me an awful lot of castles back in the Dark Ages.”

Innit stepped away to fully put her in his puzzled stare. The expression was so reminiscent of a cat confused over which mouse to chase that Kalon laughed, waving his further confusion off apologetically.

“Castles had the palace near the center for the ruler, but then walls that surrounded the town. They weren’t huge towns, mind you, but full of the most necessary shops and businesses. And of course, handfuls of the wealthy that managed lands outside the walls.”

He blinked. “That’s just ‘bout the same thing. Dice never–. Guess it ain’t make any difference if he noticed that or not.”

“Did he ever say what it was like inside the walls?”

“Suffocatin’.” Innit squinted into the bright sky. “He had this thing about stars. Said something about never seein’ them in the colonies. He tried teachin’ us the names sometimes, but none of us cared enough to learn.” Innit smiled sadly. “Even Branch, and I reckon she put in a bit o’effort considerin’ how she had a crush on him.”

“Have you heard any word from Branch?”

She patted his back at his head shake, tapping him again to get him walking. They moved along the waterways, looking for blooming lilies and frogs. They found their way to a mighty rose bramble where bits of metal arches could still be seen, as well as the top of a metal figure’s head in the center. They tried to brave the tangle to see this figure better, but the thorns were too much.

“It was worth an attempt.” Kalon sucked on the end of her pricked finger. “People try to care for these gardens every few months, but things such as taming the roses never happen.”

“I get why. Those thorns pack a wallop more than you’d expect.”

Kalon snickered. “Some of the words you use….”

He feigned hurt, bumping her. She lightly pushed him aside, trotting off towards the waterway. They fell into a slow stride with Kalon balancing on the edge of the stonewalled ditch and Innit shooting her high heeled boots nervous glances.

“You ain’t answer if you wanted Dijon to be a colony. These gardens would get cleared up. You’d get to see what that statue looked like.”

“You assume they wouldn’t throw me out.”

“Why’d they do that? You live here. Your grandparents live here. Y’all run the library, which is very valuable and that automatically makes y’all great to keep ‘round.”

Kalon stopped. She spun on her heels; Innit visibly twitching with his eyes on her feet and hands ready to pull her away from the edge.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you joking?”

“I don’t get–? Will you step away from there?”

“It isn’t deep. I’d get a tad wet if I fell.” She crossed her arms. “You seriously haven’t caught on that I’m damaged goods?”

“What are you–? Kalon, just get away from there. I can’t focus on anything else.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t need to state it.” She held herself tighter. “Why should I tell you? Why do I need to?”

“You don’t. Please, just–.”

“I do though! I can’t explain why, but I do. We’re trapped in limbo if I don’t.”

“I ain’t got a clue what that even means. Just….”

Kalon stumbled as Innit grabbed her and pulled her forward, away from the walled ditch. His thin fingers were buried into her shoulders, shaking. She could feel his heart pounding against her. She pulled back enough to read his face; his sky blue eyes were wide with fright.

He dropped his gaze. “You make me nervous standin’ there in those boots.”

She ducked her head to rest her forehead on his shoulder, still hugging herself tightly. “I fancy you.”

“Uh… I ain’t gettin’ how you make me fancy?”

She laughed, shaking her head against his shoulder. She stepped out from his hands and gave his wrist a tug.

“I think if we follow the water this way, it takes us to the stone gazebo. It’s quite lovely with the vines growing up the columns.”

Innit was lackadaisical about seeing the gazebo but did not fight her on it. He did not break her grasp either. He allowed himself to be dragged forward for several yards before she let go, falling into step next to him.

The walk to the gazebo was broken by stops to look at random flower patches or muse about exploring other pathways. She did lead them off the water for a detour, remembering a statue that was on the way.

Innit squinted and cocked his head. “What’s he tryin’ to do to that cat?”

Kalon sighed, rolling her eyes. “Honestly.”

The worn, bleached stone showed the figure of a naked man wrestling with a lion. Kalon grabbed the club between the man and the lion, pulling herself off the ground. She hung from it, her legs offering little help due to her tight, leather pants making her knees harder to bend.

“This is Hercules fighting a Nemean lion. It’s part of an extraordinary old story about bravery and overcoming grand obstacles. This type of lion couldn’t be killed with weapons, so Hercules–.”

“Strangled it, from the looks of it. You know I ain’t much for readin’ stories.” Innit circled the statue. “Why’s he wearin’ a leaf on his junk?”

“Modesty?”

They stared at the leaf a moment before bursting into laughter. Kalon took Innit’s hand as he offered it, releasing her grasp on the statue and half-falling off. Her feet dragged as he swung her away from the statue to prevent any chance of her stumbling into it.

Kalon ran her hands down his arms, stepping away from him. “Oh, there over your shoulder. That’s the stone gazebo.” She quickly walked ahead. “Hurry, Innit. It’s a nice spot for a break.”

“Why’re we hurryin’ for a break? You walk slow enough, you won’t need one.”

She slowed as she approached the gazebo, eyeing the large columns covered with vines and the domed roof. She entered tentatively as if the place was more solemn than an old structure more neglected than not in recent years. It was situated on a peninsula and set far enough off the path that the greenery had long turned wild and the trees made extra seclusion. 

She breathed in the smell of solitude and nature, settling down on the cold, stone floor.

Innit stood by warily. He looked through the trees and vines as if he was not certain someone would not spring out at them.

“When I mentioned taking a break, I meant sitting and relaxing.” She patted the ground next to her. “Come. Do nothing for a tic. It does wonders.”

They sat in silence for several moments before Kalon noticed Innit’s leg starting to bounce. His posture was straighter. His legs crisscrossed and unrelaxed. She reached for his shoulder, but  he sprung up before she connected.

“Sorry.” He groaned into his hands. “Sorry. I ain’t great at sittin’ still. My mind just–. I don’t know if it’s all that happened, or is happenin’, or–.”

Kalon climbed to her feet. “It does take getting used to. When I was still a girl, after I’d come to live here, I hated the silence. I think it has something to do with living in survival mode for so long, but I can’t be certain.” She smiled wryly. “Psychology books are not my favorite. Often too pretentious and woe is you.”

“Survival….” He nodded musingly. “Reckon that’s one word for it.”

She busied herself plucking the dead or dying leaves from the vines. She moved an inch to make room for him to join her in the mindless task. Her heart fluttered each time they brushed arms, reddening her cheeks. She kept her eyes locked on the vines.

“It’s you.” Innit was holding his red shirt out to his nose.

“Pardon?”

He tinted pink. “I kept smellin’ this smell. I reckoned it was the library since that’s where I always smelt it, and was confused why I could still smell it….”

“Oh….” She rubbed at her neck, stepping away from him.

He closed the gap. “It’s nice.”

She moved closer, smiling coyly. She gently touched his cheek, watching him gulp and flinch. She did not back off, instead pushing up against him and dragging her fingers towards his ear.

“I won’t hurt you.”

She waited, her long eyelashes lowered and lips parted slightly. She felt his trembling hands on her back, her hips. She felt his warm breath on hers, breathing it in. She dug her fingers into his back and neck, pulling him in to ensure they connected. Her heart missed a beat when they met, then went double speed to make up for it.

She winced as he shoved her against a column, quickly throwing her weight up against him and raking her black painted nails through his platinum hair, around his neck, over his chest. She pulled away to catch her breath, craning her head back to let him at her neck.

Her knees wobbled, but seconds later, she was thrown aside with a frightened yelp from Innit.

“Someone’s watchin’!” He pointed a thin, shaking finger through the vines. “There! Across the water! Someone in the bushes!”

Kalon staggered up on her boots. She followed Innit’s line of sight, biting her lip against a laugh.

She cleared her throat. “That’s another statue.”

He turned red to the tips of his ears. “Why’re y’all puttin’ statues out there to scare people like that!”

She pressed up against his arm, combing at his short hair. “Killed the mood a tad, didn’t it?” She kissed his neck, stopping from planting another when his body tensed up. “Sorry. Was that no good?”

“I… don’t know. Maybe we just stick to the mouth for now.” Innit touched his neck. “I ain’t sure what’s goin’ on if I’m honest. I wasn’t thinkin’ a moment ago.” He touched his mouth with a shaking hand. “I don’t reckon I’d do anything like that if I was in my right mind. What if….”

“It was fast.” Kalon stepped away from him when he refused to meet her eyes. “I don’t believe I was thinking clearly as well.” She smiled impishly. “It was fun though.”

“Seems like an understatement.” He cleared his throat. “I reckon being friends will be awkward, but I like hangin’ out with you. We need to go back to that.”

“Sure.”

“It’s just… with what went on recently, and with my childhood, and I guess yours…. There’s too much we’d have to talk out, and I ain’t ready for none of that.”

“I understand, Innit. I already agreed.”

“I don’t want to be right on the nose with it, but… diseases….”

“Innit.” Kalon took his face in her hands. “I know. I’m great at suppressing. I’ll pretend this never happened.”

He looked wounded but nodded. “Good. Good. We can just go back to like we never made out.” 

“We need to meet up tomorrow. To prove to ourselves we are mature adults that can remain friends.”

“Reckon that’s the logical thing. The library?”

“We’ll come back here. Not this exact spot, of course. There are grape vines and a cute orangerie we haven’t explored.”

“I don’t know what that is. Guess you can explain it tomorrow.”

---

The orangerie was musty, overgrown, and lacked proper light with half the glass windows covered with molding particleboard. Kalon did not notice this. She kept a firm hug on Innit’s torso, gripping at the back of his shirt. She kissed him greedily, giggling when he cursed quietly as his bitten nails clawed uselessly at her leather corset. She dragged her stiletto bootlet up his calf, losing her balance with him pushing against her. She held tighter to stop from falling, but only succeeded in pulling him down into the pile of mildewing storage.

They lay groaning and inspecting their bruises for a minute.

Innit groaned. “We ain’t just friends.”

“No joke.” She rolled onto him. “I'm perfectly fine with that.”

She kissed him deeply before standing to help him up. Her knees went weak as he pulled her back in for another.

He surveyed her corset and footwear accusingly. “Let’s get outta here before we get tetanus.”

-------

Dijon is a significant hub right now with a large train station/train yard and an active airport, so it'd be hit hard with the technolgy collape. When you look at some of the very large cities that end up colonies, they have transportation systems too, but their airports are farther away then you think. They'd still get significant damage, and some are not in the same exact spot as they are right now because of that, but they became colonies more due to international name recognition, or something like that. So, Dijon is just one of the hundreds of cities that is kept on a 'if we want another colony' list. I almost had Innit confirming to Kalon that he did get all her heavy handed comments about her past, and comforting her on it, but that's not Innit. At least that wouldn't be him at this point. He absolutely does know Kalon and he share a similar trauma, but he also absolutely won't confirm that outloud. (I had to put the 'fancy' comment in there too because 'I fancy you' just sounds so funny to my American ears.) Oh, and the botanical garden is real. The stone gazebo is a replica Temple of Love, and I think the statue across the way staring at it is a Venus/Aphrodite, but I'm not sure since I can't find much specifics on it. I just knew when I was mapping the garden path that Innit was going to freak out over it whether a kiss was involved or not.

I've caught up-ish to what I'm writing, so we'll see how long until the next part. I'm editing and rearraging as I go.

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Page 2


Song: "Pageant"

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Page 3


Aria: Kallista, my dear! Where is Sapphyre?

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Song: "Koudamare"

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Shael: ...Phyre!

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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

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“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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