Verity Alice Price

So, with the past week, Liam had had plenty of time to experience being around blanket forts, but Verity was pretty sure he'd still never had the fun of building one. So she'd sent him out to the store for some snacks, citing a long-overdue call with Sarah for why she couldn't accompany him and after said call (in which she harangued her cousin to at least talk to Artie, for god's sake, and also to come back to Baltimore), she stripped all the linens off their bed and grabbed everything from the closet and left it all in a giant pile on the floor for Liam to spot when he came home.

Shut up, this was totally for Liam's benefit and not at all because the past week had Verity feeling nostalgic or anything.

An hour later, Verity, Liam, Rose and Jermaine staggered out of the bar and onto the suddenly silent sidewalk. Verity could dimly hear the parties still raging in the bars to either side of them, and there were people on the other side of the street, happy, laughing, living people with drinks in their hands and smiles on their happily drunken faces. There was no one else on their stretch of sidewalk. ( A black coach, drawn by two equally black horses, was parked illegally in front of a fire hydrant. )

[And we're done! Adapted once more from Seanan McGuire's "The Ghosts of Bourbon Street" with the help and patience of firstofitskind, who I could NOT have done all of this without. NFI, NFB, and Verity and Liam are on their way back home, woo!]

They had left the main highway behind them easily an hour ago, and were now wending their way through dense forest, traveling along roads that could have used some serious repair, and maybe a few closures. The potholes were big enough to qualify as small ponds, at least when they were full of water, and this far into Michigan's Upper Peninsula, they were always filled with water. Michigan might not be on Portland's level when it came to being damp, but it was making a good effort, and Verity wasn't ready to count it out yet.

Liam was asleep in the passenger seat when they crossed the line into Buckley Township - they'd had a late night last night celebrating the new year and he'd taken the earlier shift driving while she'd napped. Verity pulled the SUV off to the side of the road and stared into the imposing tree line that surrounded them on what felt like all sides. The sky was a thin sliver of blue overhead, already trending toward sunset. Chicago and the Carmichael Hotel were eight hours of hard driving behind them. If they didn't want to spend the night in the SUV, she would need to push on, and soon.

She didn't move.

It was strange, being back in Buckley: it was like she was a compass, forever seeking magnetic north, and had just locked on to her target, no matter how much she wanted to go in a different direction. This was where her family's tenure in America had started. This was where, for better or for worse, the majority of their bodies were buried. Her grandparents had met here. Her great-grandparents had died here. It was impossible to understand the history of the Healy-Price family as it currently stood without also understanding Buckley - what had gone right there, what had gone wrong there, and what had gone unbearably weird there.

( Unbearably weird was part of the Price genetic makeup by now. )

[Adapted from "Swamp Bromeliad," by Seanan McGuire and preplayed (and coded, yay!) by the wonderful firstofitskind. NFI, NFB as per usual. Part 1]

They made it back to the hotel many hours and several bottles of champagne later, laughing as they tried to keep themselves from toppling over. Verity's knees gave out halfway up the stairs. Liam scooped her up, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her the rest of the way - and the giant horseman's glaive Al had given her as a wedding present and that she had carried all through the night. The best part? No one in Vegas had cared. Verity unlocked the door while dangling upside down and giggling incessantly. The mice cheered when they entered the room.

"HAIL! HAIL THE RETURN OF THE ARBOREAL PRIESTESS!"

"Shhh," Verity said. Her shushing was somewhat undermined by her giggles, and by the hiccups she was starting to develop. "Gotta be quiet, mice. No pets allowed."

"Verity is very, very drunk," said Liam proudly. "I am slightly less drunk." That he was drunk at all was pretty surprising, considering his usual reluctance. But it was the night before their wedding...

"Because you're bigger than me, you jerk," Verity said, doing her best to punch him in the knee. It would have been easier if his knees hadn't insisted on moving when she tried to hit them. It wasn't fair. She crossed her arms and sulked. "Stupid mass."

"I also drank more water," said Liam. He waved a hand at the mice. "Stay out here, you adorably vicious examples of the genus Rodentia. I am going to defile your priestess like...like..."

"The Normans defiled Lindesfarne?" Verity suggested.

"Yes," said Liam. "That." He raised his chin and carted Verity into the bedroom as half the mice cheered for the God of Distant Stars and the other half took up the cry, "HAIL TO THE DEFILING!" That was going to become a holiday and, dammit, Verity was too drunk to care. She barely remembered to shove the door shut at the last second. Barely. She might have been drunk, but there was no such thing as 'drunk enough to forget that the mice were watching. That was a level of inebriation that implied liver failure and death. ( Which might still be better than having sex while the mice were in the room. )

[Y'all know how this goes by now. Post I of II. NFI, NFB. Taken from "Waking Up in Vegas" by Seanan McGuire and preplayed with the glorious firstofitskind, who manages to patiently keep me on schedule with preplays!]

It was funny. Verity had somehow thought that coming home with news of her engagement to Liam was going to make for a festive occasion. You know, the family coming together in delight to coo and plan, her mother might take some time off from making house calls to ailing cryptids, and maybe even Antimony taking a few minutes to stop being a brat and be happy for her.

( Instead, there was squabbling... )
[Preplayed with the wonderful firstofitskind, who has been a coding CHAMP! NFI, NFB Happy Holidays!]

The party at the Stark's estate - a sentence that only made sense this weekend - had been lovely, save for one thing: her supposed fiancé, who had gone out of her way to frustrate and annoy her all night. Not that she was surprised by this. Liam had been frustrating in every sense of the word since this whole fake-relationship-secret-bodyguard assignment had began!

Frustrating in every sense, yes. Even especially that one.

Not that Verity was thinking about that right now. Not with the high dudgeon she was in as she slammed into their apartment-slash-safehouse, her professional Spy/Bodyguard patience taxed to the limit. "I can't believe you were so irresponsible at the party!" she fumed, kicking off her high heels - which could double as knives somehow, don't ask - as soon as the door was closed behind them. "I mean, no. I can absolutely believe it! That's just classic you! But still! Why don't you just put up a beacon to all the assassins out there searching for you? 'Here I am, come stab me'!"

[For the fake fiancé, and preemptively calling it NSFW as we get a little Slap Slap Kiss action.]

Verity watched the screens depicting Skywalker's last walk with a rictus that only barely passed itself off as a grin. She darted her eyes over to Liam, who was watching this with way too much satisfaction. She had been watching the whole thing, nodding right along with it, and then those gates had slammed shut and something within her had snapped.

At first, she'd been afraid that something really had snapped. That was a real danger when you were a porcelain music box ballerina. But no, it had just been her mind coming back to herself - and boy, she'd nearly snapped again when she realized she was made of porcelain - and realizing that she was watching a man walk to his own gruesome death.

"No!" she cried as the machine started up.

[Open for him who lives here, but also to anyone wanting to visit/intimidate. Liam modded with permission]

Your class can be found here mistakenly posted REALLY early.

'Nothing' looked a lot like the glaring white of an active cuckoo's eyes. Verity opened her eyes. The unrelenting whiteness didn't go away, although it did change forms, becoming the overhead lights which were shining directly down into her face. She groaned and tried to block the light with her arm, only to discover that the various tubes connected to her body made that impossible.

( They didn't usually connect tubes to dead people. )

[Adapted from Midnight, Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire! Preplayed with and coded by entire genius firstofitskind. NFI, NFB]