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The most awkward thing on a gift like Lion's was it created a lot of false expectations.
Some were easy to remedy (or ignore), because he didn't *need* to see his mark again, and didn't give them a way to contact him in the first place (or not a real one).
But then there were the assets he was expected to cultivate and work with over a longer period of time.
Some stretches of silence (not ghosting! never ghosting!) spoke volumes by themselves.
And if they didn't - there was always loudest one after he asked "can we still be friends?"

Když najdete duši na stejné vlně, i když je z jiné generace a z druhé strany světa, chytnete se jí a nepustíte.
Spojuje nás (osamělost) mateřství, píseň v srdci a touha být tak trochu divoké, tak trochu divné, tak hodně jiné.
Neúnavná, hlasitá politická aktivistka, přesvědčená tvrdohlavě o své pravdě.
Unavená, ne tichá, ale vždycky spíš na okraji, politicky apatická věčná hledačka smyslu.
Nepravděpodobné partnerství, vzniklé kvůli těm, které potřebují kruh.
Kruh, ve kterém není strach; kruh ve kterém je hluboký pokoj; kruh obrovského štěstí; kruh bezpečí.
Protože ta, která ho přes třicet let vytváří, hledá svoje jádro na Pouti.

"Do you do this often?" she asked, breathless, as they finally collapsed onto his bed.
He looked at her via the mirror on his ceiling.
"Not really."
Truth was, BDSM was not his usual kink. But having a magical whip was too tempting to resist.
And, he mused as he replayed the last hours in his mind, there was something to be said about the satisfying twang of it against exposed skin and the moans it elicited from his - thoroughly chastised - partner.
So much so, actually, that he might have to put it in his repertoire of amorous tactics permanently.

They caught up with the winner in the mingle after the competition.
"Congratulations on the ribbon!" Lion beamed at the slight brunette.
"Pity we can't let you keep it," Owl added quietly. "Given that you haven't played square."
She gave the old man a withering look.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"The magic in your whip, dear."
"It's not against the rules," she shrugged.
"Let's see if the judges think the same, shall we?"
"Unless you want to tell us where you got it... and then maybe we could figure out a better use for it," Lion winked.

Lion slid onto his seat in the section reserved for coaches and owners of the horses.
He compared his betting tickets with the list, looked up and frowned.
He couldn't see the starting paddock anywhere.
The PA system blared a jingle and the announcer called out horse number 1 - Spring Blossom.
The horse and rider approached the tribune, curtsied (he didn't know horses could do that) and began something that looked almost like a dance routine.
"I thought you said horse races, Owl?"
The older agent smiled: "I said competition, laddie. Dressage. It's a modern, very precise and cut-throat sport."

Osprey seemed spoiling for a rumble.
"We totally could take him, I tell you!"
Lion shook his head.
"Didn't both Tiger AND Raven tell you it's a bad idea?"
"But what do they know. We could just jump in and out..."
"As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm for revenge, Osprey, this is something I will have to handle by myself, and with a bit more grace than just 'hurr durr, go get 'em'! Believe me, I tried."
He shook his head, bracing, and then stepped into the restaurant where his father was waiting for him with his new family.

The fight was more or less equal, with none of the combatants having a clear advantage.
"Is that all you got?" Lion teased.
"Actually..." his opponent smirked and pulled out something, that was probably an artifact.
Lion jumped back and the spell almost missed him.
He remained standing as a statue.
His opponent came closer to him, but right then a portal opened under his feet.
A moment later Osprey appeared through another portal, Tiger on her heels, rubbing his back.
"Well, that worked pretty great," she smiled.
"Not sure I'd pick it again," Lion, melting from the paralysis replied.

I've known about my gift since... high school, senior year prom season.
Of course, that's when every guy thinks they have it...
*eyebrow wiggle*
[audience laughs]
Most guys in college would sell their abused kidney for it.
Luckily for my brother, my kidneys were safe - I never went to college.
[audience laughs]
Of course, if indeed you give up a body part, you don't need feromones to attract the women.
[exaggerating]
That scar? Oh, I had a near death experience a month ago. I'd tell you more, but being an agent, I'd then have to kill - um, sorry, kiss - you.

Philip knew most people found his uncle intimidating at the best of times, but he never felt that way. Until now.
The anger that lashed out when that mousy salesman came - that was bad. But the void staring out of his eyes afterwards was way worse.
Void that hid emotions Philip remebered only too well.
Betrayal and hurt, feeling helpless and useless in the face of the circumstances.
And being so utterly alone, isolated - partly by choice, mostly by the belief that no one could understand anyway.
"You know you still have us," he tried.
"I know," the void answered.

Lion didn't quite expect to run into Swan in the staff kitchenette, especially not late in the evening.
"I'm glad to see you back on your feet," she said, shutting the oven door and dusting her hands off on an apron.
"It's good to be back," he replied, curious and a bit apprehensive at the same time.
He reached for the coffee machine, while the director started chopping something on a board with almost vicious energy and speed.
"Here, toss this into the pot for me," she handed him the board.
"Ummm... what are you making, a potion?"
"Chocolate custard."

"Snooping around and getting tongues wagging," the chief smuggler narrowed his eyes at the young man who shouldn't be in his office. "Sounds like a rat got into our operation."
"Look, mates, I just wanted to check out the real big game. Got a bit uppity for a pawn, is all," Lion cranked his charm up to 11.
"For a pawn of the other side, who has no 'mates' here to check on him," Azad's eyes were cruel, mocking. "Any god you'd like to check in with, before we end this charade, 'mate'?"
A knife flashed into Lion's back.
"Checkmate."

"I'm telling you, Fox, this is different!" Lion argued. They were several weeks into their assignment, infiltrating an artifact smuggling ring in France. Mostly it was gruntwork in various warehouses.
"It was awfully hush hush that whole thing, init?" Fox agreed. "An' the orders for it came from Paris..."
"If there is someone else in charge - "
"We need to find out. Better send word back though."
They did, but before they heard back from HQ, Lion volunteered as courier to Paris.
When he caught a glimpse of the leader of that operation, he knew he saw those scars somewhere before...

"Where would you like to go to dinner?" Lion asked his newest mark.
"Do you trust me?" She smirked back at him.
"You don't strike me as a weirdo, so yes?
"See, that's exactly it. Normal is boring. Weird is the new sexy." She winked.
"Yourself included, by the way," she added slyly.
"In that case," he laughed. "When should I pick you up?"
"Five thirty. When did you last go roller skating?"
"Years ago! Why?"
?
"Probably no reason, but... I do ride roller derby. We have a real shot this season."
"Dead on! I'd love to see that sometime."

"Hey Raven, I heard about Birch Bark, great work!" Squirrel smirked at the agent as they passed each other in the corridor.
"Thanks, Squirrel. Can you send me the sheets for Matinee, when you get a minute?" Raven nodded.
"Sure! And Lion, I still need the paperwork for Trinket from you."
The youngster frowned with his nod.
"Ermm... which one was that again?" he asked Raven when Squirrel was out of earshot.
"The blond with the expensive tastes?" Raven supplied.
"The operation names sound like they are pulled out of a hat."
"Actually, I think now it's random words generator..."

The water in the pool was freezing. There was a reason why this physical test was the bona fide final for field work.
But as he dunked his head under the surface and opened his eyes, there was a strange sense of calm.
The water wasn't silent, not by a long shot. But it did muffle and distort the sounds that made it through.
He felt his senses sharpen in focus as his muscles started to work.
Deeper and deeper, until his lungs started burning. Find the right holes to swim through.
Use every pocket of air you can find.

It was a standard observation mission at an establishing meeting of a local political movement.
The meeting was held in a taproom of a local microbrewery, with an apparently unlimited open tab, so the spirits of the gathered crowd were high, both figuratively and in the intoxicated sense.
The speeches were often punctuated by shouts from people who fancied themselves funny or edgy.
Raven and Lion sat in one of the corners, unfortunately far from the door.
When one of the guys nearby took issue with the way their girlfriend looked at the agents, Raven just lifted his hands:
"We're not here to start a fight, man."
As they moved to leave, a pushing brawl started on the other end of the room.
"We're not here to finish one, either," the older agent warned his nephew.

People might be excused to think all of the great feats of magic have already been achieved in antiquity, the Professor used to say. All the artifacts we tend to look for have been created and often rest in archeological digs.
But that doesn't mean that we can't make things even greater than those, whether we actually build on what was, or decide to blaze our own trail.
After all, when the giant, whose shoulders you're trying to stand on, is long dead and buried, that gives you a worse vantage point on the problem you are trying to solve.

When Killian asked if he could bring a girlfriend home for spring break, Deirdre was definitely pleased. The redhead seemed nice at first, but soon her interactions with Killian shrunk to monosyllables.
"I've no idea why she looks so... Worried? Pissed? All the time," he told his brother over beer.
"Might be her cycle."
"Definitely not, but... you don't thing she could have a... bun in the oven?" Killian looked scared.
"Given how prickly she is, it might be a hedgehog," Philip joked.
He stopped laughing when it turned out she was just more attracted to him since they met.

"Won't you miss being among adults?" Philip asked Killian, perusing the college booklets Thorne brought him earlier. "Chugging beers, slamming down whisky, not remembering anything in the morning?"
"Isn't that the definition of frat party?" Killian raised an eyebrow.
Then he showed his brother a pamphlet that didn't look like official marketing material.
Make vodka jelly with dry ice! Build distillation column. Calculate diastatic power of malt, it's relation to whisky flavoring and head retention of beer...
"Malt might be good for student head -attention and interest- retention, but it probably won't help me retain that new kidney," Killian sighed.

"You know he's special - if indeed he *felt* the magic... And even if he recovers, he's unlikely to be able to go back to the military. We could give him a purpose..."
"Like hell you will!"
"He wanted education. We can do that. I am not proposing sending him in the field, Raven. We can make him a sleeper for now, let him reach his full potential. He's brilliant - and can be even more so!"
"You've already got his brother and me!" the troublemakers of the family. But he'll be damned if he hands over his sister's golden child too.

"It's the worst case of acute renal failure I've ever seen," Eagle told Raven. "Whatever hit him pretty much fried both of his kidneys, suddenly and completely."
"It was magic that did it, so I need to know if you can reverse it."
The healer shrugged.
"I have nothing that would regrow an entire organ - and I'm afraid it's gone so far even dialysis won't fix it."
"You're not letting my nephew die," the agent growled.
"His only chance would be a transplant. If there is a donor match."
"Try me," Lion's voice suddenly chimed in.
"Me first," Raven frowned.

Graphic Flowchart

SUSPECTED ARTIFACT
GRAB it
You’re DUMB
Did you DIE?
YES
I’ll give your book dog ears!
NO (You’re still DUMB!)
SCRUTINIZE it
Does it have MAGIC?
CAN’T TELL
Call someone who can (Always, Raven!)
YES
NO
Can you IDENTIFY it?
YES
NO
Is it DANGEROUS?
YES
Call in EXPERTS (Yes, YOU, Lioness!)
NO
Potentially INTERESTING USEFUL?
YES
NO
LEAVE IT (Osprey!)
SAFE to MOVE?
YES
BRING IT IN (You too, Osprey!)
NO
Send PICTURES to LAB
Are there visible MARKINGS?
YES
NO
Can you READ THEM?
YES
NO
Can you carefully move it?
YES
NO
ERRRMMM….
Anything CHANGED?
YES
NO

She thought she was used to it. She spent majority of her life on military bases. She watched her grandmother and her mother - both of them military wives and mothers - deal with it their whole lives. Constant worry, hidden behind stern eyes.
She knew she didn't want it. She tried to be different. She probably deserved how her 'marriage of love' ended. But her sons didn't.
She couldn't even imagine the kind of worry she felt for Philip.
When Killian told her he's joining the military, it was almost a relief.
Until he ended up here - in the operating room.

Wolf smiled as his fingers caressed the surface of a tablet one of the teams brought back.
He sat down at his desk and started sketching.
Pretty soon a pattern began to emerge and once the last line was in place the whole thing started to glow.
Right then the door opened and in came Swan.
She took one look at her colleague's work and smiled too.
"I thought we were too old for that," she said kindly.
"You're never too old to believe a world can be new - or that there can be a place for you in it."

The hallowed library somehow made you quieten down.
Your voice dropped into whisper, your footsteps illogically muffled on the marble floor, and your very movements slowed down and stilled.
Weta looked right at home there, Lion on the other hand found himself uncharacteristically fidgety.
"As far as afterlife plans go, I must say this is not my favourite," he shook himself.
"So what would your choice be? The Muslim seventy virgins?"
"I don't have to die for that," Lion shrugged.
"Haunting some forgotten red light salon then?" Weta giggled half ashamedly.
"Walhalla sounded nice, actually. Not restrictive like the others..."

The dark greenish black of trees.
The almost imperceptibly blue tinted mirror of a lake.
Last pin prick of white in the vastness of universe above.
A moment lost in complete silence, before the first call of a lark.
The moment, in which it is hard to believe day will ever come again.
And suddenly the horizon blushes crimson, turning everything into dream and nightmare at the same time.
Mouse and Racoon sat on two boulders in silence, each working on their own canvas.
For a moment neither had to fight.
For a moment their world was - finally - at peace.

They hit it off straight away.
It should have been suspicious, but wasn't.
He knew she wants him.
She... knew what he wants, and found a way to make sure it's her.
That's when it began to go downhill.
They were both too good. And probably too young...
"Are you sure you want me to see?" Swan asked as the memory entered a bedroom.
"I've nothing to hide," the agent assured her.
"And what about him?"
A shrug.
"You'll see."
The memory got tangled in limbs and tongues, but then, suddenly...
"Who the H*CK *are you*???" both asked at once.

"Of *course* I can do it," Lion smirked at his new mentor.
They were watching a woman buying fruits at the market. His mark - last test before he becomes an agent.
The youngster skipped to the stall. He made sure she noticed him, picked up one of the fruits, polished it on his shirt then ripped it in half.
"Will you go out with me?" he offered her one of the halves.
"Wasn't it supposed to be an apple?" she quipped.
"Only if you're into snakes," he shrugged. "I prefer things more juicy."
She took a bite, locking his gaze.

"You did WHAT?" Thorne couldn't quite believe his ears when he got the call from his nephew.
"They had it coming, Thorne. Someone had to teach him a lesson and stand up for mom."
"Is that what you think she wanted?"
There was a pause on the line.
"Hasn't she been through enough?"
"Nobody else did anything..."
Thorne sighed. Frank tried to take his sons from Deirdre after the divorce. So yes, he did have things coming... because the boys were loyal to their mother.
Unfortunately, Philip's way of sticking it to his dad was to seduce his new girlfriend.

"Look, man, I get you wanna be the fun uncle or whatever..." his brother-in-law started jovially as he joined Thorne by the barbecue. "But getting him his first car should have been a father's privilege!"
Thorne raised an eyebrow.
"You're making me look bad, because it's not something I could afford right now, economy being what it is..."
"He knows I only gave him Smogey because I couldn't take her with me to Europe anyway."
"And that's another thing, man. That death trap should have been scrapped twenty years ago. You could have at least sprung for a new car!"

The dog tags on his rearview mirror clinked when he shut the door and his hands caressed the steering wheel as an old lover. He turned the key in the ignition and put the stick in reverse. He's drove this car far and wide across the continent. Yet today it was different.
He stopped in front of a familiar house, checked the time - perfect - and honked the horn.
When his nephews came barging out, he was standing on the sidewalk.
He tossed the car keys to the older one.
"Happy 16th, Philip. Treat her well for me."
The youngster frowned.

"A station wagon?" Thorne stated with a measure of disrespect his dad definitely didn't appreciate.
"If you were hoping for a corvette, you should have taken that summer internship in California!" the older man shrugged.
"What I *hoped* for was anything better than scrapyard reject," the teenager retorted, lightly kicking a misshapen wheel.
"What, and rob you of fun and quality time with your old man? I'm hoping to teach you young whippersnapper a thing or two before you run off to college..."
That actually made Thorne smile ruefully.
"As long as they don't ship you out again, you mean."