Who is Magpie?

“There you are.” The voice was soft, but closer than she expected.

Her head had slumped over onto her shoulder, making her neck a little sore but her headache was mostly gone. She straightened up and stretched out her shoulders and arms before looking over at the one who had spoken to her.

“Last I checked anyway,” was her reply as she looked over at Bronx who seemed flustered. “I swear that I have done absolutely nothing today to warrant such frustration.”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. It’s been a morning.” He apologized and she pat the bench beside her.

“Want to share?” She asked politely, hoping her smile was as warm as she wanted it to look.

He sighed an exasperated breath. “Athena has been going off for over an hour. She wants retribution for her broken deal, and a return on the investments she’s made toward the Ashford pack in thinking it was going to merge with hers.” He sighed again and looked at her. “She’s also worried you’re going to take what her pack received when everyone thought the Hemlock’s were all dead.”

“Is it something I’d even want?” Jessamine asked, pretty sure it was likely money and not some precious heirloom of ultimate power. “Even if Ezekiel kicked me out tomorrow I don’t really want a bunch of dead money and old furniture.”

Bronx cringed at the thought of Ezekiel being mad enough to kick anyone out let alone her. “You really wouldn’t want anything from your family?”

“I did wonder, once, probably during a holiday, where my family was and how I ended up there. Honestly it was a bit of a relief to find out they were dead and hadn’t just forgotten about me.” Jessamine admitted and Bronx had learned to stop feeling sad about such statements. “I’ve started to remember more things, but nothing about my family.”

He reached over and held her hand around the back and she had a feeling he did it more for himself. “What kinds of things do you remember.”

Jessamine laughed, a sound she hoped would calm him. “Nothing that is worth that look you get on your face.” She pat the back of his hand with her other hand.

“I feel like not knowing is worse.” He groaned.

She pat his hand again before pulling both her hands away. “It isn’t,” she assured smirking at him. “Was there a reason you were looking for me?”

“Oh yea. You weren’t in bed, Ezekiel’s kind of panicking,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t sense you, couldn’t find you, he feels like an ass for not checking on you and getting pulled into work.”

“… and Athena.” She reminded. “I ran into that peach myself. I…” She bit her tongue, stifling the thought.

Bronx didn’t let it slide. “What is it? You know I won’t drop it, now that we are ‘that close’.”

She rolled her eyes, supposing they had gotten closer. “She said something about Two Rivers, but I don’t think she meant the rogue attacks. I got the same feeling when you said the name a few days ago… It’s not a good feeling.”

“Well, it was where your family is from.” He informed casually but her face stopped his grandeur. “You didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “Add it to the list.”

“There you are.” It was Ezekiel this time and she had turned to meet his gaze. “Didn’t Bronx tell you I was…”

“I was sleeping.” She interrupted. “And I didn’t really want to deal with your fiancé with a hangover, again.”

He sat on her other side. “I’m sorry, I was…”

“Busy, I know.” Jessamine spoke understandingly, but she was still frustrated.

“Did you get anything for your headache?” He continued, wrapping his arm around her.

She nodded. “Toast and eggs.”

“I meant more like ibuprofen, but I’m glad you ate.” Ezekiel smirked, rubbing her arm.

She leant forward, and plucked a weed from the garden bed in front of her. “I mean it the kindest way, but I wouldn’t trust a pill I couldn’t recognize given to me by anyone but one of you… or Willow.”

Bronx chuckled, patting her leg as Ezekiel rest his hand in the bench behind her ass. “Gma? Why over everyone else is she on the list.”

She took a long breath. “I am a good judge of people.” She turned to Bronx then as she spoke. “Willow is the kind of person who things ten steps ahead and plays her cards facing you to even the playing field.” She turned to Ezekiel then and continued, “and she said she liked me.”

There were some soft chuckles before they migrated back inside. By this point it was time for lunch and they gathered in Jessamine’s room to eat together. Athena was still carrying on somewhere in the house because her car was still outside, but they knew she would never knock on Jessamine’s door. By the time they were done she had given up and left, but Jessamine wasn’t sure she was through trying to prevent their full moon run.

Her clothes were returned after lunch, all freshly laundered, and she set to work putting them away. Distantly she wondered if there was a point, imagining she would be moving to Ezekiel’s room after tonight, but she also didn’t particularly mind having to move them at a later date when it wasn’t that far away. It was, in the least, something to do that wouldn’t take up a lot of energy.

Jessamine had never been able to hang her clothes in the attic so everything she picked up went on hangers over the drawers or shelves, admiring all the different fabrics and colours in a row. Shoes already lined the shelves neatly already, not needing to be cleaned, and then when she got to the bottom of the basket she began finding all the undergarments. These items she definitely wanted in the drawer and relocated the basket near the to the dresser to unload.

Everything about the experience had been enjoyable, until she opened that top drawer and saw her old things. She hadn’t even realized they had been there, but when she opened the drawer she heard the heavy sound of metal sliding on wood. Her heart froze in her chest to see the black clothes, the old backpack, the flashlight, two knives, and the baton.

“Who thought I wanted you back?” She asked herself out loud, removing the drawer to examine the things on her bed.

Her first set of doors were already closed, but she closed the second set before addressing the objects. The backpack held nothing for her, it was old and you could see the areas of different black thread where she had mended it repeatedly. She set that aside, picking up the clothes and laying them on top. She had already tucked the shirt that had been Kay’s rolled up in a shoe, this one she had gotten jam on back in her cell, the stain still remain on it’s breast.

She put the clothes aside with the backpack and picked up the baton. With a flick of her wrist the baton extended fully, becoming a firm, half-staff. She could remember the last time she had held it, fully compressed and upside down, as well as the thunk sound and the way it had reverberated though her arm when she hit Bronx. It had been the first weapon she was allowed, and she hated it’s limitations but she still always brought it with her as a last resort. It was the best made item she had ever received, and she felt like the decreased the quality after that on purpose.

Moving the baton with the fabrics she picked up the mismatched knives. They had been wiped clean, but she could still see blood in the grips from her fingers. The grips had just been metal, making each knife basically one piece, but she had managed to swipe a roll of duct tape from an assignment and some medical tape to build up a grip she could hold. The blade wasn’t even sharp. She had worked to earn a sharpening stone, but it didn’t last very long and the cost for another was never something she would consider.

A small part of her didn’t want to part with them, having worked so hard to have them in the first place it felt wasteful to throw them away. But, the more she thought about them the more they reminded her of who she was and what she had done, all the new memories gathering with the old. She gathered everything into the backpack, slinging it over her shoulder, forgetting the flashlight and picking it up. It was made from a cheap material, not even sturdy enough to be a blunt weapon. She turned it over in her hand, pointing it toward the door and when she flicked the switch it didn’t work.