Désmoda x Aegon - Morality Pet Character Sketch [SOLO]

 Takes place in the Mafiaverse AU Lydia and I were writing in. Written February 6th and 7th, 2023. Can take place anytime after Désmoda and Aegon start hanging out, so I might backdate it eventually.

... I wrote this before watching High Life, and it hits a hell of a lot differently now, but Désmoda is a comedically terrible person soooo I'm keeping this in her profile.

Obvious CW for sexual violence is obvious. My dreamscape had gone into more detail about Désmoda and Aegon's sex life, but I was somewhat rushed writing this out, so I'll have to save the smut for another time.

It took Désmoda a while to get the measure of the young man she’d personally carded on entry to her club. Unlike his boring brother, it seemed Aegon actually enjoyed getting so damn blasted on recreational drugs that he couldn’t remember his name or what city he was in. But one could hardly be too careful, so it took some time for her to start trusting him with her more hardcore drugs. Once she was sure he wouldn’t report her like a little bitch and get her business shut down, she allowed him VIP access to The 1000^th Spoke. He drank for free and did drugs for free. She could afford it, as she was compensated monthly by a nameless benefactor. So Aegon got the highest quality drugs and drink Désmoda’s and Cin’s chem team could provide. The more she got to know him, the more she decided he was worth it.

Back in Hungary, Désmoda’s mother, a marquess whose expensive tastes had nearly run the family fortune dry, had wanted to raise her to be a proper lady so she could find a rich husband to support her while she tended to her needlepoint or did whatever it was rich housewives did. From what she understood of Aegon’s hungover grousing, his parents expected him to make a marriage they considered advantageous and take over the family business when his decrepit old father finally kicked the bucket. He was as uninterested in his parents’ plans as Désmoda was in hers, and spent as many nights as he could get away with at The 1000^th Spoke, or, more specifically, in the penthouse above it.

Désmoda had a reputation for kidnapping lusty men and forcing them to be her sex slaves. All rumours, nothing proven either way; in fact, no-one really took the gossip seriously enough to report her in the first place. Whether these whispers were founded or not, she treated Aegon well. She fed him vitamin water and spoke gently to him before he went to sleep, and had a chef bring him breakfast in bed when he woke up. She found it refreshing, having someone to take care of, especially someone who was so much fun!

Those rumours surrounding Désmoda weren’t entirely unfounded. Some of the people Cin’s lab regularly supplied to recreationally were defence lawyers, a few of whom still had the shadow of a conscience between them. They got their clients off on technicalities for the most heinous of crimes… then turned round and volunteered them as test subjects, off the books. Cin and Désmoda plied them with drugs, sex, and promises to learn the truth of their involvement, in the crimes of which they’d been accused and others. The truly innocent were put through a paid study of one of Cin’s above-board, pharmaceutical drugs, received their compensation, which included a generous amount of hush money, and sent home with a doctor’s note. Overall, they were fine; it was just a handy excuse to take a couple weeks’ vacation if they wanted.

But the guilty, those eels that slipped through the jaws of justice, they were punished properly. Désmoda kept them in a secure, soundproof location. She was kind enough to give them mats to sleep on and an IV drip that kept them fed just enough to keep them alive. She gave them stimulants to enhance the pain when she wanted to torture them, and took great pleasure in oh-so-slowly cleansing and cauterizing wounds she inflicted on them. When they were suitably disinfected, she’d have sex with them, plying them with vasodilators beforehand. If she couldn’t have them one way, she’d take them the other. Collecting strap-on toys was a hobby for her; using them was another. If her pets pleased her in bed, she gave them painkillers and let them sleep. If not, she suspended them, then stuffed them full to bursting with ice cubes and waterproof vibrators turned all the way up, sealed in rubber panties. They’d stay like that till whatever time the next day she saw fit to release them. Then she’d bring them to the bathroom, where they’d empty themselves and be hosed down, then taken back to their mat.

Those who pleased her also got the privilege of real food the next day, and a reprieve from torture. She’d still use their bodies, of course—for chores, that is. She dressed them up in uniforms and had them serve her guests and patrons, laying on white grease paint and black eyeliner so thick they’d be unrecognizable. Part of their uniform also included a ball gag. She wouldn’t have them speaking out of turn, after all.

When Désmoda learned that her new friend Aegon had a penchant for imposing himself on household staff, she was delighted. Far from punishing him, she allowed him access to her female prisoners; they were his sex slaves now, and he could starve or torture them to death if he wanted. She remained unconditionally tender and friendly towards him, leaving him to work out his issues when he needed to. And when he still wanted to dominate his family’s servants, she sometimes joined them. Other times she’d take the girl when Aegon was done, give her a mind-blowing orgasm, and then take her home so drugged-up she’d assume everything was a dream.

Having sex with Aegon one-on-one was a wholly different experience. They relaxed around each other, giggled, had fun. Sleeping with him was paradoxically both casual and meaningful. They were good together, whatever they were, and she at least saw no need to label their relationship. The day might come when he found someone who suited him better, but until that time came, she’d enjoy what she had with him without questioning it. Caring for someone was rare for her, but at the very least, she accepted him for exactly who he was, and he seemed to accept her in turn. The sex was pretty good, too. And really, what more could any of us dare to ask?

August 22, 2022 | Troy starts college!

Written February 6, 2023. Backdated to August 22, when Troy would have started college. The institution is an original setting loosely based on the idea of UC Santa Cruz. Portrayal of Aemond loosely based on Lydia's modern mafia AU.

 Troy Lita was the kind of guy who went out of his way to include others. He'd skipped two grades and been in AP everything in high school. Even though he'd been friendly, athletic, and popular, being two years younger than his classmates had made him feel awkward. Despite his popularity, he'd felt as though he had to work harder than others to fit in.

It wasn't just his age that made him unusual. While he was a halfback on the football team, he was also in the celibacy club. He never even went on dates, both because his parents wouldn't allow it and because he wanted to stay focused on academics and athletics. He went to every school dance either stag or with a small group of friends.

In his last year of high school, he held parties at his parents' house on their date nights. Everyone was welcome, and he made a point to invite loners and wallflowers. He served fruit platters, meat and cheese platters, and veggie platters from the deli. He also ordered one of every pizza special from the place down the road, just in case. His dad and baba also saw fit to keep the cellar stocked with, among other things, nonalcoholic beer and wine, and stevia-sweetened soda. His dad had refused to have a pool installed for safety reasons, but that just meant there was plenty of room on the lawn to spread out blankets for picnics and dance.

Troy also made a point to kick everyone out in time to wash the bedding before his parents got home. He was inexperienced, but not stupid.

He could have gone to any college he'd wanted; he was an Ivy League legacy twice over, but he had chosen to go to a state school in a beach town so he could stay close to family. Of course, he was still a residential student; he had a sense of how sheltered he was and, even though he was 16 when he started his first semester, he felt he should have some measure of independence. Luckily, his parents agreed with him. He'd stay in a dorm, have a roommate and a debit card, and be free to make his own decisions... though of course, they still didn't want him dating. His biological father had turned 17 the day Troy was born, and Troy's mother had left shortly thereafter. Neither of his current parents wanted him to go through the stress of starting a family too early, nor the pain of it breaking up because he and his hypothetical partner were so young. Other than that, he knew nothing about his mother. They just didn't talk about her.

That would be an easy rule to keep. Troy had no interest in dating. He wanted to learn, play team sports, and make friends; that was all. He actually did pretty well at it. Although it felt awkward to stay silent when one of his professors casually said, "You're all adults," he knew it was best not to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Some peers he met were also on the younger side, and he could tell most of them felt equally awkward about it.

His first week of school, he met with a guidance counselor and took some preliminary tests. He was placed in sophomore-level English and math. He had taken some college-level credits during his senior year of high school, specifically for political science and world history, so he was eligible for sophomore-level classes in those subjects, too. His first semester, he chose sophomore-level English, political science, and world history; and freshman-level fine arts and football. When classes started, he made friends with most of his new classmates and some of their friends too.

In his first world history class, he noticed one of his classmates sitting all by himself on the left side of the room. Though he wore an eyepatch that covered his left eye, he sat several rows back, avoiding both the front row with the eager, talkative students, and the back row with the students who didn't care and talked about unrelated things during class. Troy would normally have sat front-row-center, but something drew him to the student who would become his first close friend at this new school. After politely asking if the seat next to him was taken, Troy sat down with a smile, pulled his long sandy-blond hair back in a low ponytail, and pulled out a Notebook. He powered it up, fiddled with accessibility settings to make the font and icons larger so he didn't have to hunch over to see his own writing, and proceeded to carefully take notes, annotated with his own opinions and insights. For the first time in his life, he didn't rush to answer questions or contribute to the discussion.

At the end of class, before his seatmate got up to leave, Troy asked if he wanted Troy to email him a copy of the notes. He seemed to hesitate before agreeing, but he did agree, and they exchanged names and email addresses. Troy nodded his chin at his new friend as he packed up and left.

They met again in political science and this time, Aemond was the one taking notes. He opened a Google Doc, invited Troy to contribute, and they spent the class dissecting the clearly partisan views of their teacher, who asked them not to call her Professor because it made her feel "old" and went on unrelated tangents about her personal life. Troy hoped none of that was going to be on the test, and he typed as much into the notes doc. Aemond rewarded him with a blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Troy smiled back, but the timing was not in his favor; Miss Mai saw fit to angrily assume that of course a privileged young white man would laugh at the idea of separating church and state.

Troy stood, smoothing his light blue button-down over his purple jeans. "Actually, my dads and I agree with you that maintaining that separation is not only beneficial but necessary. Well, I say 'dads'. My biological father is actually gender-fluid and has worked in..." He paused. "I think the polite term is adult entertainment. And if the United States and, equally importantly, California see fit to uphold separation of church and state, he and my adoptive father might actually get married post-election cycle. I'm sorry, did you want to keep discussing my family's privilege or did you want to go back to talking about your own personal life?"

"Speaking of poor depth perception," Aemond said, speaking for the first time that class, "would you mind going back to the previous slide? I'm afraid my vision isn't what it used to be and I'd like some time to parse that diagram."

Troy covered his mouth to hide another smile as he sat back down. He had to take a moment to avoid looking at either Aemond or the laptop screen for fear he'd burst out laughing. Miss Mai, however, looked somewhat less than amused. Troy wondered if she was the type of person who would consider Aemond uppity because of his accent and elegant manner of speech. If she did, she was alone in that; a few girls were fanning themselves and whispering excitedly, casting glances in Aemond's direction. Aemond ignored them, pulling the hood of his black hoodie further over his head and focusing on the slide until it turned forward again, and then furiously typing notes into the Google doc.

After class, they walked to lunch together, comparing notes.

"I admit, I didn't expect much from the American college experience, but my family won't send me back across the pond for school," Aemond was saying.

Troy nodded. "Yeah, my parents warned me that state school and community colleges basically hire people off the street... to which I countered that, according to William Deresiewicz's book 'Excellent Sheep', Ivy League schools have come to treat students more as customers buying their grades. Oh look, they've got pork stew!" Troy grinned as they filled their trays and paid for their lunches.

Aemond made a face at his. "I'm not convinced this was worth the money," he said as they sat at the first empty table they saw.

Troy ate a spoonful of his. "Hmm... No, it's pretty bland. I guess that's what happens when you cook for hundreds of people. Tell you what, IM me after your last class, I'll round up some other friends, and we can go somewhere more palatable for dinner. Totally on me." He dug in.

Aemond hesitated. He wasn't usually one for crowds of people, and he had to wonder why this guy was being so nice to him. What did he want?

After an awkward silence, Troy shrugged. "Up to you," he said. "I'll probably bring back leftovers anyway. I like to snack while I'm studying. I think I'll start a study group. I don't think I have a roommate so we can meet in 11A.

Aemond blinked. "I'm in 11B," he said, "right across the hall. Have you met the girls in 11C yet?" he asked, lowering his already rather quiet voice. 

Troy's eyes widened. "I didn't realize the dorms were coed," he said, feeling his face heat up, or maybe that was because he'd eaten warm stew so fast. "Why would they put the girls so close to the boys? Shouldn't we be in one hall and they in another?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Aemond turned over a spoonful of stew, dispassionately watching the pork cube drop back into the bowl.

Troy pulled his backpack into his lap and pulled out the lunchbox he'd prepared. There was one tidy section of buttered brown rice, one section of cut fruit, and then in front of those was a longer section with chicken kebabs. He slid the lunchbox across the table and took Aemond's lunch for himself.

Aemond frowned at him. "I was going to finish that," he said.

Troy shrugged, but he couldn't help a small smile. "Then you should have beat me to it," he teased.

Aemond gave a resigned sigh, opened the lunchbox, and tentatively nibbled at the kebab. At least it was better-seasoned than the pork stew. "This'll do," he pronounced.

Troy nodded. "Cool. Hey, before I forget." He pulled out his laptop and emailed Aemond PDF copies of their notes.

"I have the Google drive links for those," Aemond said with raised eyebrows when his phone pinged with the notification.

"Yeah, I believe in redundant copies. Always keep a PDF file in case Microsoft or Google Docs gets hacked or corrupted, and always back things up on at least three clouds, preferably encrypted clouds. My dad's a techie," Troy explained.

Aemond nodded slowly as he took this in. He wasn't about to tell Troy what his family did for a living, but he did give a small smile of thanks for the redundant backup. 

Troy smiled back, bright and cheery, then got up. "Alright, man, I'll see you round. It's fine arts and then football for me." He dumped both empty trays, set them neatly on the tray rack, and left.

When he got to the fine arts classroom, there was a naked girl standing on a dais in the middle. He blinked, then looked around. There were a couple other girls there, but the classroom was otherwise empty.

"You're not the teacher, right?" Troy asked the naked girl. 

She turned, startled, and shook her head. "No, sorry. You're uh, you're early." She hastened to put her clothes on. "I was practicing being a nude model and my friends were practicing drawing," she explained. "Uh, I'm Cygnet Campbell." She brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear nervously and ducked her head.

"Troy Lita." He shook her hand.

"Uhーand these are my friends!" She gestured to the occupied seats facing the dais. A cheerful-looking girl with a red bob and glasses waved at him, while a solemn-faced blonde girl who looked like she might be the redhead's sister quirked an eyebrow and went back to her drawing.

"I'm Cinnamon Starling," said the redhead, "and this is my cousin, Désmoda Vanderkeel."

Troy went and shook their hands. "Troy Lita. Nice to meet you."

"I haven't seen you around before," Cygnet said, pulling what looked like a hand-crocheted brown sash around the waist of her floor-length grey knit dress. "Are you a freshman?"

Troy nodded and took a seat next to Cinnamon. "Yeah, I'm a political science major," he said.

Désmoda snorted derisively. "Good luck," she said, leaning forward and propping her ponderous chest, practically bursting out of her bright yellow button-up cap-sleeved blouse, on the desk. She had an Eastern Bloc accent that Troy couldn't quite place. "There's only one undergrad teacher and she's a bitch."

"I noticed," Troy said. "Did she call you out for being privileged white girls?"

"And whine about how hard it is being mixed, yes," Désmoda said.

"And how hard it is being taken seriously while young and female." Cinnamon rolled her eyes. "Like, maybe if she acted more serious, she'd be taken more seriously?"

"We're all younger than her and we've had no trouble on that front," Cygnet said, sitting next to Troy. "I snagged an internship at one of the most prestigious tech firms in the Silicon Valley, south of San Jose, anyway, for my work in hardware and robotics; I'm a robotics major. And I'm only a sophomore, so I don't know what the hell she's on about."

"She whines about being half-Vietnamese and an outcast in both worlds, but at least she sounds American. I'm Hungarian and Chinese. Do you think I fit in anywhere at first?" Before Troy could answer, Désmoda plowed ahead. "The answer is, who cares? American men love foreign pussy. I can do whatever I want."

Troy couldn't disagree there. His foreign Aunties tended to get away with more brazenness by weaponizing their exotic looks and accents.

"Yeah, I mean, and we're all women," Cinnamon added. "We just make sure people know how smart we are so they don't have a chance to underestimate us, rather than crying that nobody takes us seriously. Like I mean, come on, I could whine about being pigeonholed as the funny fat girl, or I could correct the grammar and word usage of the people treating me like the funny fat girl."

"English major?" Troy guessed.

Cinnamon shook her head. "Chem. I'm working on developing a drug that triggers the release of serotonin, endorphin, dopamine, and oxytocin release associated with falling in love. I'm gonna call it SEDO. I just have to phrase my goal in a way that I can get past an ethics board. Ugh."

"Well, if the mainstream science community won't back you, we know which strings to pull, don't we?" Désmoda grinned sharkishly, an expression that made her look strikingly like Troy's baba. "I'm post-grad, in the pharmaceutical program," she explained. "I have a gift with... healing drugs."

She clammed up as more students started filing in. Troy nodded. He got her drift.

Cygnet was a natural with fine arts, at least in Troy's opinion. The art professor certainly had more feedback for Troy and Cinnamon than she did for Cygnet and Désmoda. Troy accepted it with a smile; he was pretty happy to have made new friends, regardless of how bad an artist he was.

After art class, he had football tryouts. He'd been a pretty good athlete in high school, and luckily he ended up making the cut. After tryouts he was exhausted, so he went back to the dorm to take a shower, then crashed.

He woke up to an email notification on his phone at about 7:00, from Aemond.

[About dinner, I'm in.]

Troy sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Fuck," he grumbled. He'd completely forgotten. He stretched and put on a pair of forest green corduroy pants, a black tank top, and a navy blazer, then went next door and knocked. Then he remembered Aemond had said he lived across the hall to him and some girls lived next door. He rubbed his eyes again and was just turning to go knock on the correct door when the girls' door swung open.

"Hey, Troy!" Cygnet hugged him in greeting. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Troy hugged her back, relieved. "I just came to invite you and the girls to dinner. And Aemond," he said, as if in afterthought.

Cygnet's brow puckered. "Aemond?" she repeated. "The guy with the, um... scar? How did you get him to socialize?"

Troy laughed. "Bonded over political science," he said. Cygnet nodded, understanding instantly. 

Cinnamon came up behind her. "Hey guys!"

"Hey, do you and Désmoda wanted to come to dinner with us and Aemond?"

Cinnamon shook her head. "No, Désmoda and I actually just ordered from IHOP. She's outside waiting for delivery. But have fun! Maybe next time?"

"Sure thing," said Troy. Cinnamon gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared back into the room.

Aemond had heard the voices in the hallway and peeked out through the peephole. He opened the door and stepped out, a brief little smile twitching across his lips as he saw Troy and that weird girl from his philosophy class. His eye widened in surprise as Troy greeted him with a warm hug.

"Ready to go?" Troy asked.

"Let me just get my purse," Cygnet said. She disappeared into her room and came back out a moment later with a blue, scale-patterned monstrosity. "Um, whose car are we taking?" she asked.

"I was going to call us an Uber," Troy said sheepishly. "I, uh... I have a learner's permit," he explained, "but I'm not licensed yet."

"I can drive," Aemond said. Cygnet disguised a look of surprise by batting at the air, pretending she'd seen a mosquito or somesuch. Unfooled, Aemond fixed her with a deadpan stare.

"Okay," she said. "You can drive."

"Shotgun!" Troy announced, defusing the tension as he put an arm round each of them for a second. Aemond shrugged him off almost immediately, but Cygnet let him linger before he took his arm back himself. "Okay, driver's choice, or should I nav us to my favorite restaurant?"

Aemond gazed searchingly at Troy. "I'm morbidly curious about your tastes," he said, a little more frankly than Troy had expected.

Troy smiled. "Perfect." He navigated them to a midscale restaurant that advertised as a burger and steak joint, but also served some ethnic fusion food and all-day breakfast. 

They were seated instantly, and Troy ordered one of every appetizer for them to share and a teriyaki steak with onion rings and a Caesar salad for himself. Cygnet ordered sashimi and Aemond ordered a burger. The three of them chatted pleasantly and got to know each other. Troy learned that Aemond's family was Welsh, and Cygnet's was French. The both of them had eccentric uncles and distracted mothers. Cygnet had a disappeared dad named "Diarmuid something," and Troy had a disappeared mom named "something Lita, I think? It's the only way my last name makes sense." Aemond's parents were still together, but it was a loveless marriage. He was his mother's favorite child, but his father's favorite child was Aemond's older half-sister from their father's previous marriage.

Then they discussed their majors, sort of. Cygnet did most of the talking there. She burbled excitedly about her paid internship. "I applied for a bunch of them, actually, but I'm really glad I got this one and not one of the soulless companies up north. My boss is so laid-back, he even lets us decorate our cubicles however we want. None of the furniture matches and it's amazing. Oh my God, and our lawyer! He's...." She bit her lip as she trailed off. "Sex on legs. I actually didn't like him at first, see, we met last year when he defended my old English professor." She peeled a piece of fish off its rice bed and popped it in her mouth. After she'd swallowed, she continued, "But then, like, nobody saw Professor Nesh again. He's still considered a missing person, and I have a hunch the hot lawyer had something to do with it. No proof, though, obviously. But when I met him later after Mr. Maddock hired meー are you okay, Troy? Don't drink so fast!"

"I'm fine," Troy gasped.

"Anyway, he didn't seem to know who I was at all, which is probably a good thing. Could have been awkward otherwise."

"Well, be careful," Troy said lightly. "You know what they say. The hottest ones are usually gay, taken, or both."

"Which one are you?" Cygnet asked. "You know... you kind of look like him. Hot lawyer guy."

Troy took another sip of his Sprite. "I was in the celibacy club in high school," he said, tapping his purity ring against the glass for emphasis. "I'm not gonna be dating anytime soon."

"Aww. That's cool, though. I don't really have any experience other than Nesh attacking me, either," Cygnet said matter-of-factly.

Troy winced. "Sorry that happened."

Cygnet shrugged uncomfortably, and then they moved on to other topics. Aemond had mostly tuned out the conversation until it turned to their school subjects. He was a devoted student, and he spoke with such fervor about political science in particular, that Cygnet joked he should be the teacher.

"Or at least apply for a TA position," Troy agreed. "God knows she could use a competent assistant. I mean, are our parents really paying for us to be our teacher's therapists?"

"Actually, I'm on scholarship," Cygnet said.

"Good, we can write a letter to the grantors," Troy countered. "And then they can contact the dean about hiring pick-me's off the streets."

Cygnet stared silently at him for a moment, then said quietly, "That was really mean."

Troy shrugged. "Well, either our families and grantors are paying for us to be taught by someone not all that interested in teaching, or they're shelling out for us to take just one single class at an institution that does care about our learning experience. And, you know, that's a whole nother school's tuition plus the price of the class. I'm sure they'll be thrilled about the extra expense."

"Um, or we could just hold a salon," Cygnet pointed out. "Do our homework and tests by rote, put in the bare minimum effort for the actual class... then form a group in a casual setting where we can read the textbook, current events, and whatever on-topic interests us, and just have fun discussing it. We could have a couple moderators to make sure things don't get too out-of-hand. Like Aemond."

Aemond looked at her. "Hm?"

"No, you'd be perfect. You seem like a calm, rational, level-headed person. How'd you like to help moderate a salon?"

Aemond weighed her question. He looked at Troy after a moment. "You want me to apply to be a TA." Then he looked at Cygnet. "And you want me to moderate an informal salon."

Cygnet laced her fingers with Troy's. "We just think you'd be really good at it. At least think about it. Please?"

Aemond pursed his lips as he considered it. "Hm. I'll think about it," he promised.

Troy furrowed his brow and pulled his hand back from Cygnet's. "No pressure, though. Désmoda says Miss Mai teaches all the undergrad poli sci classes, so we can easily find seniors to TA and moderate if you don't want to."

"Right," said Cygnet quietly, looking down, her cheeks flushing. "I hadn't thought of that."

When they'd had their fill, Troy asked that the rest of their food be packed to go, and he insisted on paying the full check, waving off the others' protests.

"Look, I know you guys can afford your own dinners, but I don't like doing more math than necessary and I want to tip, so...." He scribbled a number that was about $50 more than their total amount, then signed the receipt.

"Wow, you REALLY don't like math," said Cygnet, staring bug-eyed at the receipt.

"Nope," Troy agreed. "And next time you guys can figure out who pays," he said cheekily.

When they got back to their dorm, Troy hugged them both and gave them a breezy peck on the cheek goodnight, then went into his room. As he was removing and hanging up his clothes, there was a knock on the door. He opened it without looking through the peephole.

"Hi again," Cygnet said, trying not to stare at his tight turquoise boxer briefs. He was in really good shape! "So... Thanks for tonight. Cin and Dés pretty much commandeered my room for, um... Anyway, uh, d-do you have a roommate? Can I stay with you tonight?"

Troy nodded and stepped aside so she could come in, then closed the door. As she made her way to the other bed, he asked, "Wait, if you're a sophomore, how is either of them your roommate? Cin's a senior and Désmoda's post-grad, right?"

"Good memory!" Cygnet looked pleased, but flustered. "Um, I actually don't have a roommate, but they um... They took advantage of my night out with you guys and invited some boys over. It's just kind of crazy in there right now and I don't wanna be the one who tanks the party."

"Got it. Yeah, let me get you my extra bedding," Troy said. He had her bed made in short order, as she went to take a shower. 

He sat at his desk and did his homework, which came fairly easily to him. World history, at least, was easier than US history for him; given names tended to have more variety than "John". Then for political science, he just had to answer a couple of boilerplate questions from the first chapter of the textbook. He had history and political science on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; and he had English Tuesday and Thursday. Football practice was officially two hours a day, but he could hit the gym or the pool whenever. Art class was just on Mondays, but students were allowed to go in and work on projects basically any time there wasn't a conflicting art class in session. Then there was the salon Cygnet wanted to start. Troy nodded in satisfaction as he considered his schedule. He liked staying busy. And now he had some great new friends to hang out with, too!

When emerging from the shower, Cygnet hadn't bothered to put on clothes or even a towel. She'd towel-dried her hair and body in the bathroom, then hung the towel on the rack to dry. Troy was used to nudity and didn't bat an eye, not even when she came over to hug him and thank him again for being such a nice friend.

"You going to bed yet?" Troy asked as she let go of him. "I can turn off the light and finish this tomorrow."

She smiled angelically at him. "I probably should get my rest," she murmured. "Do you have an extra pillow or, like, a teddy bear that I can cuddle with? I like to hold something while I sleep."

"Way ahead of you." Troy went to the closet and pulled out a large stuffed unicorn in a cloud of pastel colors. "One of my Aunties gave me this as a parting gift. I also have a Sephiroth body pillow and a giant Tweety Bird."

Cygnet took the unicorn with a little giggle. "This is nice, thank you," she said, clutching the life-sized plush to her chest. She looked back at him as she was walking to her side of the room. "Goodnight," she said.

He gave a little salute, put the Sephiroth and Tweety on either side of his bed, then turned off the light and climbed into bed.

10/05/17 | Where Are They Now?

 It is 2017. Cinnamon and her husband, Drepanon, are enjoying a quiet evening in watching lighthearted movies. There are two pots on the stove full of pinto beans and lentils, set to soak. Selene and Soo sit quietly on either side of Jason D'Rau. Serleina and Seira are playing cards and eating pizza. Celebrities are dropping like flies, the American presidency is a disaster, and the world is falling to pieces, but in New Remirum, all is good and peaceful.

April 9, 2012 | Labi Dove's Diary

 I was thought to be dead, but this was not so. I have the duty to care for my dear Doriane, with the help of my new husband, Sharuka (Hatman). At first I was concerned that the retroactively reincarnated ex-demon may still have feelings for Evryn, or failing that, her sister Penryn, but this is not the case. He is a good husband and under his influence, Doriane is growing again.

March 19, 2012 | Cygnet's diary

 I should point out that it ought to be obvious, but I've decided Brandy's not the one for me. I feel as though I owe the Grim Reaper something for the inconvenience, though. Oleander offered herself as a trade and he took it. They're drawing up a contract as I write.

After enduring numerous jokes at Brandy's expense, I took a good look around. Everyone else seems happy. They didn't have a rosy, confusing fog or a consistently weak body. Rosemary in particularly seemed more content than me. When they all read the messages I kept from Brandy....

It was Frey who saved me. It wasn't anything he said. I'm just a random gal to him. it was his presence that was comforting. He was just there. I've talked to him some and he just reminds me of every dream of romance I've ever had. I really like him, and he's not a phony like Brandy was. He's genuine.

PENRYN

HAHA SPOILER ALERT!