EMERY BASS

The office is as it always is: quiet, stale, and reeking of coffee. Mr. Greyhead is in his own office to the right of my desk, his door closed and the room quiet, and talking to the Mundane officer who we were assigned to earlier this afternoon.

Henry Turner sits in front of me, fiddling with his ponytail and sneaking glances at the closed door. His lips twitch as though he wants to say something, but every time he starts, he looks at my typing hands and stops. Eventually, I tire of his unease and stop my work.

“Yes, Henry?”

The boy—I am ten years his senior, so it seems right to call him as such—takes a deep breath before beginning. “What do you think their relationship is with each other, Miss Bass. I’ve never seen Mr. Greyhead so startled before. I-I of course am asking this because I care—I mean, he is my employer, if anything ever happened to him I would have to go to a different position…. WAIT! I didn’t mean it that way! I-I—“

Henry blushes a deep red, covers his flushed cheeks with his hands, and grows silent. For his own sake, I ignore it. “I’m sure he’s fine. They’ll get it all settled, and Mr. Greyhead would never let his past relationships interfere with the case. Although he has a cold personality, he has his priorities and does his work the very best he can.”

Henry nods. “Of course. But how do you know that it’ll all work out. You don’t have psychic abilities, do you? I thought you were a Lower-Down?”

“I am, Henry, as I have always been for thirty years,” I rise, an idea coming into my head. I am rather bored, might as well do something with my time. Entertaining my younger coworker seems to be the best thing to do. “Allow me to demonstrate,” I say steadily, “I have hardly any magickal abilities to speak of, I am just incredibly perceptive. Follow me.”

We make our way to Mr. Lance’s office, knocking before entering, of course. Mr. Lance is reading what looks to be a report, probably a field one since he is a Higher-Up, and taking rabbit bites from a jelly-filled, powdered sugar croissant. His shoulders are broad, and when standing up, he is even taller than Mr. Greyhead. He has a baby face, with wide eyes and a mouth that looks as soft as it is pink. He hardly ever talks, but is very kind and friendly if approached. I’ve forgotten exactly what his magickal ability is, but if I remember correctly, it has something to do with strength.

When he sees us, he gives a nod and places his work done. Not his snack. Never his snack. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man without some sort of sweet in his hands.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” His tone is polite, though a smile does not reach his lips. It doesn’t cause either of us offense. Mr. Lance is not known for a charming sort of personality. He is blunt, straightforward, and easily tempted and swayed by sugared food.

That last one is by my own discovery.

“Well, Mr. Turner wants me to show him how I read people. We’ve come to you in hopes that you’ll allow me to read you.”

He takes a nibble out of his croissant, watching the way Henry fiddles with his shirt-vest. The boy is always like this around people of higher station. He adores them, even though his own brother and sister are in the same placement. Maybe that’s the reason why, though I’d have to know the full story to come up with the answer.

“Of course. I have no problem with it.”

“Well,” I say, pulling out two chairs for me and Henry to sit in, “what do you want me to find out?”

He thinks for a moment, swiping the jelly off his face with his pinkie and sucking it off in a way that somehow says: I am ever so sorry, but I must not waste any of this jelly goodness. “Where was I yesterday?” He nibbles his snack nonchalantly, but there is muted excitement in his expression.

“A guessing game?” Henry asks. “Is that all you do, Miss Bass?”

“Essentially,” I reply, going into focus.

Mr. Lance seems to have shaved since yesterday. That means he went somewhere nice. And his posture is relaxed, as though he thinks that I will never correctly answer. That means that he couldn’t have been with his sister, though that would be the obvious answer. I look at his croissant, half-eaten. On a normal occasion, he would have ate the thing whole without another thought. And it also wasn’t his usual choice of food.

Someone bought that for him. Someone special.

I smile, my answer in mind. “You were courting someone yesterday, yes? You went to the Greenwood Bakery, and they bought you that croissant you’re eating right now.”

Mr. Lance’s eyes widen. “That—that is correct. How ever did you do that?”

“A magicker never tells her secrets, but thank for for your time, Mr. Lance, sorry to have disturbed you.”

He waves goodbye, giving his croissant a longing look before nibbling on it once again. I drag a shocked Henry out with me and we walked side by side as we made our way back to our sector, he, in stunned silence, and I, fine with the quiet.

After a while, though, he gains control over his voice and says, “How did you do that?”

I shrug. “I used to have to do it a lot. Still have to do it now.”

He looks at me, expecting more, but when I don’t continue, he nods, dropping the subject.

“Do you think Greyhead and Officer Burtrom are done by now?”

“Most likely.” I looked around the walls for a clock to check how long we’d been gone. Henry checks his own watch. Around ten minutes. “Then, yes, they should be done by now.”

And the case would finally start.

——

【I’m trying to write more in my other character’s perspectives (in LIAST) so they can feel more like a…person. Miss Bass doesn’t have a big role, really, but I just wanted to write about her. This prompt reminded me of her. (Btw, she was originally named Mrs. Brown , but I forgot her name and gave her a new one that I like better. I gave her a past as well.

As always, thanks for reading and have a wonderful day/night.】

“So how do you fight against someone with magical abilities?” Faira questions, gaze sharp on Nova. Her hand permanent on the hilt of her sword much to Nova’s annoyance.

“These training sessions aren’t about fighting a witch. They are about surviving a fight outside the castle,” Nova points out, gritting her teeth to stop herself from insulting her. It is a constant struggle but she reminds herself that this is for Haze. While Haze is getting Princess Aziza to warm up to witches, Nova’s part has to do with the guards.

Nova is beginning to think she got the short end of the stick.

“I never said witch.” Faira smirks like she got her so good with that comeback. Closing her eyes, she lets her eyes roll. Then when she opens them, she matches Faira’s face.

“I know I grew up in the forest, but I’m not stupid enough to miss your implication.”

Some of the other knights laugh. Some of them look uneasy.

“That’s news to me.” Nova really wishes that she could shut Faira up. But she needs to play nice. For Haze.

“Ok, no need to argue amongst ourselves,” Ward intercepts, ever the peacemaker. “We are here to learn from our guests.”

Nova pretends to not see Faira’s scoff.

Continuing on with her lesson, she thumbs at her knife but doesn’t pull it out. That’s not needed for today. “Truth is, you don’t need powers to win. While Haze’s abilities have helped us in some…less than ideal situations, we have survived this long on our wits.”

“So survival can be taught?” Some random knight questions.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she says steadily. “Faira, join me in the training circle.”

To her credit, she doesn’t falter and steps up immediately with no fear. Out of the corner of her eye, Ward tenses. He probably thought she would use him in this exercise. But it may get a little bloody, and Nova would rather not hurt Ward. Faira though? She would very much like to.

Withdrawing her sword and her knife, Nova tosses them outside the lines that makes a circle at Ward’s feet. Faira already has a hand on her own but pauses in befuddlement when the weapons are no longer within Nova’s reach.

“Take out your blade and attack me,” Nova orders.

She can hear Ward starting to protest. Ever the soldier, Faira doesn’t hesitate, acting upon the command. Lunging towards Nova, she dodges to the left, the sword missing her by a large margin.

“Come on, you are supposed to be one of the best,” Nova taunts, the sword swiping at her again and not hitting its target. Again.

Faira keeps her cool. Even with Nova’s attempt to mess with her head, she stands strong. It almost impresses her. Almost.

Bouncing on her heels, always in motion, Faira feints right and pivots to the left. But Nova saw this coming. She didn’t have the intention in her movements. Her body, her hips and her eyes, weren’t following through with going right, so Nova articulated that wasn’t the intended direction.

The many dodges does get her worked up a bit. Faira’s breathing is heavier, eyes glare at her with more malice than usual.

From this fight, Nova’s biggest observation of Faira is that she shifts her eyes before her body. When she tries to trick her, going in one direction, her eyes are revealing the true attack.

In one swipe where Nova micalcuated the distance, she does manage to nick her in the thigh. It is a thrumming sting but not horrible.

“Nova!” Ward shouts in concern. He breaks the match by stepping into the training circle. Faira backs down, wiping the red from her weapon and then putting her blade back into its sheath.

It is truly only slightly bigger than a paper cut. Nothing to be worried about. It won’t even inhibit her walking or anything. Placing a bandage that Ward hands her on the wound (more so for his benefit), she stands upright and faces the rest of the knights.

“Did you notice anything about this fight?” She asks them, hoping they weren’t just watching for fun.

After an awkward silence that made her uneasy, a guard, Lance, she thinks, answers. “That you dodged a lot.”

Not the most detailed response she was hoping for, but she can work with it. “I dodged because I knew what she was going to do. Do any of you know how I knew that?”

A glower was shot her way by Faira. Nova stares directly at her, done with pretending to ignore her. “Faira? Would you like to take a crack at it?”

“Magical abilities?” Faira guesses, with venom dripping in her tone. Nova’s glad that Haze isn’t here. Those words would cut deep in her.

“I have no magical abilities. I am just incredibly perceptive. The key to winning a battle is anticipating. If you can anticipate your opponent’s next move, you don’t need to be the biggest, strongest, or magical person. You just need observation and anticipation.” To her right, Ward proudly smiles. It feels…oddly nice. For someone to be proud of her.

It makes her wonder if she’s becoming too dependent on him and his…affections.

Even with Faira’s negativity, the rest of the guards appear to be receptive to her lesson, nodding in understanding and even taking notes.

When she dismisses them, some of the running more than others, it is just her and Ward left in the area.

“We should find Haze, so she can heal your wound,” he suggests, eyes settling on her cut.

She waves his advise off with a flip of her hand. “She’s having fun with Princess Aziza. Let’s give her a bit more time. She deserves it.” Understanding fills his face. Good. She’s not the only one that has noticed Haze and Princess Aziza’s closeness.

“You do too,” Ward pauses, mulling over his thoughts in his mind. “You know you don’t have to sacrifice your own skin to earn their respect, right? You don’t have to hurt yourself or get yourself hurt.”

Sacrifice? For a training session? That must be how he sees it. But to Nova, it is just how she had to learn. By example.

“It’s just the way I do things, I guess. It’s not a blood free profession. Being a knight. They should know that before they go out in the real world outside these castle walls,” she counters. Shielding the guards from what is ahead of them will only hinder them in the long term. She will never understand their training methods here in the castle.

She can still picture Ward when they first met. He was running away from a bear, so out of place in the Wild Thicket. No way prepared for the persistent dangers in the forest.

None of the knights know anything about it. If they are protect the kingdom, they should be aware of true survival tactics. Not these foolishly naive, fancy skills that have no place for real world application.

Without realizing it, they had begun walking towards the lunch room, in step with one another. “You’re wrong about one thing,” Ward says, interrupting her thoughts.

“And what would that be?” She asks, amused. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, she crosses her arms across her chest as she awaits for an answer.

Ward is all smiles. “You do have a superpower. I saw it when you were challenging Faira. In the fight, you were shining. In your element. You move like a dance. Fearlessly.”

There’s something in his voice. It’s different than pride. Softer. More personal.

Adoration.

“No I wasn’t,” she feels her face heat up. Maybe they closed all the windows. It feels weirdly stuffy all of a sudden.

“You always say that Haze is the sun. Well if she’s the sun, you’re a star.” As the words leave his mouth, his eyes become brighter and Nova could almost see the epiphany reach him. “That’s your power, Nova. I’m going to call it Starshine.”

Nova’s gotten a lot of names in the past. A witch’s associate. At least that one is diplomatic. An enemy. An animal. A witch bitch. Every insult under the sun.

But she has never gotten star. And certainly no one has called anything she does Starshine.

When they resumed strolling to meet Haze and Princess Aziza, if their hands were conjoined, Nova would deny it.

And she would definitely deny the warmth in her heart.

Maybe she truly is shining.

——— (I am having a bout of writer’s block, so I am going to do the draft selection again! The last one I did gave me motivation to finish ones I haven’t touch in months. Say a number between 1-60 in the comments and I will do my best to finish that draft!)

Magical or whimsical Nothing so secret Getting old, feeling sold Not going to meet it

Returning glances Smiles fleeting No romances Just a greeting

Friends forever I’m always told Almost never Again I’m sold Tessa🦋

“You have the camera rolling right?” Shontis stopped in the middle of the hallway, her expression full of curiosity.

Bleirshal sighed. “For the billionth time, yes!”

“Don’t start with me!” Shontis grumbled, pointing her finger in the camera. “This was your idea anyway.”

“Just keep going, I don’t wanna get caught.” Bleirshal said.

Shontis scoffed. “I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna be at school one o’clock in the morning, Bleirshal-”

“Just go!” Bleirshal shrieked, making Shontis scurry off.

They found the door they were looking for. Most people would immediately dash in, but Shontis oddly just sat there and glared at the door, like a child told to sit in a corner for a timeout. Bleirshal’s impatience began rising, almost yanking the door open to push her in. But in a nick of time, Shontis remarked, “2-3-4. Mr. Thinugo’s door.”

Bleirshal shifted back and forth between the door and Shontis for dramatization, then he attempted to pull open the door, only to find out it was locked.

Shontis protruded her hand out, as if telling him to move back. “Allow me to demonstrate,” she said steadily. I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive.” Kneeling down to pick the lock.

“Who told you how to pick locks?” Bleirshal asked.

Shontis looked up at him with an knitted eyebrow, giving off an “you should know” type of look.

“The internet.” Bleirshal figured. “Of course that’s what it is.”

After a few seconds, Shontis heard the door tick. She looked at Bleirshal giving that same cocky smirk she always does when she achieves something. “Let’s go in.”

Bleirshal skimmed the room through his camera lastly stopping at Shontis’s face.

“You look in the desk, I’ll look through his cabinets.” Shontis ordered, running towards the cabinets down the corner.

Bleirshal zoomed to the desk irritated to find some of the drawers had locks on them.

“How about we switch places.” Bleirshal suggested.

“Why?” Shontis made a semicircle, plastered with confusion.

“Because the drawers have locks.” Bleirshal answered.

“Well, so does the cabinets.” Shontis replied.

“Oh, Mama Mia.” Bleirshal rolled his eyes.

“I told you to watch videos about picking locks before we got here!” Shontis said, the annoyance rising in her voice.

“I’m sorry!” Bleirshal shrieked. “Look, I’ll wing it.” Using a paper clip to pick the lock.

Shontis scoffs proceeding to do her own thing.

After a few minutes, Bleirshal gracefully unlocked the drawer. He slowly wields it back, finding packs on top of packs of salty white bags.

“Shontis, come look at this!” Bleirshal called out.

Shontis didn’t waste any time rushing to his spot. Her eyes widened when she looked inside. “That son of a bitch!” She snarled. “There’s the crack!”

“Thank thank, you’ve been a wonderful audience!” she exclaimed from her raised perch near the fountain in the city square. For my last feat of mystery and wonder I will need a volunteer from the crowd. Anyone anyone…. you there come on up.” “Thank you for your help, there’s a copper in it for you to be sure. Now if you’ll allow me to demonstrate,” she said steadily. “Again I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive….” The street magician looked into her subject’s eyes and concentrated. “By simply looking into your eyes I will divine aspects of your life that could not possibly be known to me, a stranger you are seeing for the first time.” After a few seconds of tense silence the street magician jumped back exclaiming, “Behold! Your life is laid bare before you, myself, and this lovely audience who are very generous with their coin! Let us see what we have seen…”

I was just about to grasp her hand when my hand phased right through it. That’s not possible, is it? She then faded right before my eyes, as if she were mist.

“Hey, behind you.”

I turned around and saw her. I said, “Mariah, how did you do that?”

“Well, I’m not actually real.”

“You’re not?”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she said steadily. “I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive.”

She faded away again, and I felt a cold shiver up my spine. A hand then appeared on my shoulder, her hand. I attempted grasping it, but it faded again, and I fell backwards. Sitting up, I saw her again, as he backed up into the corner.

I stood up and tried to hold her hand but her shadow went into the wall as if it were a blank canvas and she gave life to it. She then disappeared completely. I looked all around my room, yet I still couldn’t find her.

“I’m gone, Marcus, gone like a fragment of your memory being taken out. This is the last time you’ll be seeing me. I just hope you can move on from this.”

“Allow me to demonstrate”, he said steadily. “I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive.”

“Once his voice, a velvety baritone, resonated through the chaotic room, tranquility washed over everything, among the agitated spirits and also over myself. In fact, I was fighting not to show how much his voice affected me as it sent shivers down my spine.”

Kevin bit his lower lip, then grinned. His online novel was receiving more views by day. He thought describing his main character as a persona of desire from both men and women helped.

His computer let out a little ping, a sound to notify an incoming message from his online story writing community. Kevin was starting to get used to and enjoy this sound. He smiled as he clicked on the little speech bubble on his writing app to view the new message;

“Your main character Anton seems terribly familiar. Have you been inspired by someone you work with who also has a name that starts with the letter A ?”

Kevin went pale, then beetroot red.

“Sh*t, Angus is reading my online novel!!!”

Time was of the essence. An intergalactic war was breaking out across the stars & our planet would shortly be coming up on the hit-list, remarking an impending doom within an undisclosed amount of time. We needed to fortify our defences:

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she said steadily. “I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive.”

Mr Andrews & Miss Lynne gazed at each other, dumbfounded. They were the two individuals tasked with witnessing ‘auditions’ for earths primary defenders when the looming threat would imminently arrive.

“So, what’s your name? And what exactly are you trying to do?” Andrews queried, in his most dreadfully concerned tone.

“The name’s Ursula. I have the ability to coerce my opponents into fearing something that would be otherwise appear as innocent.”

“So, you’re like a Wizard- Sorry, Witch?” Lynne interrupted. She winked at Andrews - where her jolly aurora was met with his impatiently aggravated glare.

“NO!” Ursula snapped. “It’s quite simple, really…just some conniving trickery.”

“Go on then…” Andrew continued, doubtfully intrigued.

SNAP

With the snap of Ursula’s fingers; Andrews & Lynne had instantaneously fallen into a deep sleep. Unbeknownst to them, Ursula had whispered something into Lynnes ear.

SNAP

Following a second snap the two interviewers arose; Andrews face a picture of confusion whereas Lynnes was one of anger.

“Andrews…” Lynne began. “Can we have a word, outside?”

“No, we’re in the middle of something. What did you do, Ursula?!”

“Don’t give me that tone, Carl.” Lynne persevered frantically like an angsty teenager. “I know your game, you’re trying to replace me.”

Andrew took an assertive stance & began his retaliation.

“For Christs sake woman get yourself together! We have much more important things at stake here than your ridiculous accusations. Now are we going to intervi-“

He paused.

After a moments recollection Andrew returned to his seat & began to calm his composure.

“Was this one of your tricks then…”

A sly smirk emerged on Ursula’s face, followed by another wink headed Andrews way.

“Wow! I really wanted to kill you eight now!” Lynne remarked. “That’s insane!”

Andrew overlooked their try-out without the highest of optimism - although her ‘powers’ were impressive they would hardly be the most effective for their current endeavour.

“Ursula…” Andrew began, remorsefully. “I’m sor-“

Lynne clamorously interrupted:

“URSULA - YOU’RE IN. NEXT ONE, COME ON UP!”

The End.

Blitz Duels. The most scuffed kit on the Hypixel network. There were so many sub-kits, like Troll and Pigman. I figured I would mess with my friend HowTaffii and use the Troll kit, which gifts an invisibility potion, among other things. However, I needed to first play normally. The long con. So first I selected my usual kit, Reaper. I was outfitted in part dark leathers and part chainmail, a black hood obscuring my face. I wielded a diamond scythe, a powerful weapon, especially against weak armour. In this kit, I was also given throwable potions, that drained the life from my enemies. Taffii had chosen the Pigman kit. We circled around each other, calculating. She made the first move, by releasing her tamed monstrosity (a zombified pig-man creature) from its astral cage. The thing, squealing, made its way towards me. I lashed out with my scythe, one-handed, and cut through the pitiful being’s legs. It dissolved in red dust, and a beam of light brought it back to the Nether from whence it came. With my offhand I threw one of my potions, which landed directly next to Taffii’s gold-clad boots. Black ethereal smoke drifted from the shattered vial, the contents of which sat like oil upon the ground. The smoke made a beeline for her nose, and as it entered her nostrils, her eyes turned black behind her golden helm—fashioned to look like a hellish boar. She visibly aged, her life being drained by my potions. She swung wildly with her bronze sword, the flames engraved on its hilt barely missing my face as I dodged backwards. I kicked out with my legs, knocking her over. I stood behind her, and swung downwards with my scythe, the blade glowing as her life force was drained.

She respawned, and we decided to play again. This time, I selected the Troll kit. I quickly removed my armour, and chugged the invisibility potion. “I can see you.” Taffii shouted. “How? Hacks? Did you toggle Tracers?” I replied jokingly, throwing my voice. “Allow me to demonstrate,” she replied, as she shot me with her bow, pinpointing my leg. “I have no magical (or illegitimate) abilities. I am just incredibly perceptive.”

“Oh shush, nerd.” I replied, annoyed that my plan had been foiled. Oh well.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she said steadily. “I have no magical abilities, I am just incredibly perceptive.”

“Witch! She’s a witch!” One of the members of the crowd gathered around the beautiful young woman yelled out.

The others cheered the man and gripped their pitchforks and torches a little tighter. They were ready for blood.

“I can assure you I am no witch.” She said in a calm manner. “I can prove it.”

“Prove that your no witch?” One of the men pondered. “Why that sounds exactly like… WITCHCRAFT!” Followed by another roar from the crowd.

The woman smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand in frustration. “No, listen to me. This has nothing to do with magic. I overheard a conversation going on in the garden between Mayor Charles Smith and the priest Father Abraham. They were talking about ways to cripple our crop so that they could seize more property during the winter!”

“Liar! Only a witch would say such lies!” A man, presumably the mayor himself, spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah! She’s a witch!” The crowd continued fo echo. “We have to burn her!”

The young woman rolled her eyes. She was truly starting to understand an important lesson about people. An individual can be educated, but large groups tend to be the most foolish of all. She decided to feed into their paranoia.

“Lets say I AM a witch.” The woman said. “And I came to the conclusion about your mayor and the priest trying to steal away your land by looking into a crystal ball.”

“She admitted it! She’s a witch!” And the crowd roared on cue once more.

“Listen.” She continued. “Do you really think a few rusty pitchforks and a couple torches are going to be enough to stop me? I could turn you all into ravens with a snap of my fingers.”

She held up her hand in a ‘pre-snap’ position. The entire crowd took one large step backwards hesitantly. They started looking around at one another, sizing up their farming equipment weapons.

“You are going to have to do a lot better than that boys.” And then she snapped her fingers.

“Run! Run for your lives!” Someone shouted and the entire crowd scattered away into the darkness. The young woman shrugged and closed the door, turning back to her husband.

“What was that all about?” The husband asked.

“Oh nothing dear, just a few townsfolk accusing me of being a witch again.”

The husband sat up in his chair. “A witch? Really? Does this mean we must move again?”

“Unfortionatly I think so. They probably wont let it go.” She said. “Where can we move to next?”

“Well I heard theres a nice little town called Salem right down the road. We haven’t tried that town yet.”