The Universe's Mixer

Anna hummed to herself as she started slicing up the chocolate blocks, tossing the bits and pieces into a pot, stirring it as it slowly started to melt, a smile on her lips as the sweet smell engulfed her.

She turned her attention to the cream that she was whipping, her humming increasing as she started to turn the liquid into fluffy peaks before folding it into the melted chocolate, pouring the mixture into little snowman molds. She put the chocolates into the fridge to set up, pulling the eggs out after and cracking them into a bowl to make a base of ice cream.

She had never dreamed that years of watching the castle chefs would later turn out like this, assisting her with her new sweet shop, but Anna was happy making sweets, and watching those sweets make others happy.

...and when her shop was filled, she could almost pretend she wasn’t utterly alone.

Selina crawled quietly across the roof of the warehouse. Edward had given her the location information, details on what his daughter looked like, and about nothing else. It was dark, and her cat suit provided just the right amount of cover in the shadow. Reaching the edge, Selina peered over and glanced down at the ground. There was a winding staircase of iron, connected to other platforms and stairs that worked around the building. The perfect way to get into a place like that. This was not her first time breaking into a facility like that, but she would still be cautious. This was Edward's daughter, and Selina's experience with the man told her to be cautious. Very cautious.

Selina slipped over the edge of the roof, guided herself down on to the wrought iron platform, and worked her way softlt down the stairs. A ledge was her next destination and she approached it, reaching a large window. With an easy bit of maneuvering, Selina had the window unlocked and opened. It was large enough to accommodate her, and so she slipped through without a minute to spare.

This was a mission designed to gather intel, she needed to see what she was getting herself in to. Selina had promised Eddie she would befriend his daughter Effie, at gun point of course, but she never went back on her word. Tonight she was sort of wishing she had broken her promise. Ben would have protected her if Bruce couldn't. But Selina was curious. It was a trait she hated.

Once she was on a stable platform, Selina slinked down another platform and series of ladders. The warehouse was dark, silent and still. She liked it that way. It didn't seem as if anyone was home. A cautious step and Selina was on the ground. Despite her heeled boots, she was a master of silence and so she approached the middle part of the warehouse without the faintest of a sound.

A breath, and a smirk. This was so easy, it seemed impossible. Too easy, and --

Her foot for caught in something and before she knew it, Selina found herself being pulled upward in a large, massively wound net. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her legs dangled through the large woven structure. Down below, part of the floor opened up and as she looked down at the trap she noticed plush alligators. It was comical, and childish. Perfect.

"You couldn't even get real alligators?" Selina called out, not hiding the amusement in her voice. Her arms folded over her shoulders and she dangled, kicking her legs gently. She had underestimated Effie. It wouldn't happen again.

The sun shined, and Eric found himself to be extraordinarily happy. He mourned the loss of Logan, but had hope that the boy would return. He still felt the progeny in his blood, so he was somewhere. Perhaps not in this world, but somewhere. Alive, and hopefully thriving.

He had never been one to live in a nest, yet he was finding the company at the castle to be ... nice. Perhaps it was because two of them he was already familiar with. Having a second version of himself and Pam was not so much like having two other vampires there, and yet they were very clearly their own. The world that they had been on had been so very different that they'd become something that himself and his Pam had not. Something more savage and wild. He enjoyed them thoroughly.

Pastor John Tudor was an acceptable choice for a son. Much different than Logan. John wasn't vain and cocky. He wasn't harsh and ready to kill. But he was still taking to being a vampire quite well, and he was lovely in his own ways. Eric was having a little bit of trouble being around the newborn, as when he saw him all he could think of was Logan. He wondered if the two would get along. If Logan came back, would he fight for his right to be the only son? Or would he take to his new sibling?

Technically speaking, Eric had now sired three. Pam, Logan, John. In that order. He wished that his middle child were here to share in the nest and learn what he could from the other vampires. Every individual had secrets and powers to share. Knowledge.

Little Melody was a strange one, too. Eric had met her during his time in that other world, and he was still fascinated by her. She was human, and yet he felt the death within her. They called her a living vampire, and he could see why. She fed off of the dying as much as they did. Could kill, even. She also had the ability to control the dead, which made him nervous. But his mirror had assured him that she had not tried such things and knew that if she did she would be destroyed. So he would not touch it.

Eric had spent a very long time becoming familiar with his wife again. Because of that, they were back to the way they had been since he'd apparently disappeared. And he was back to full strength against the brutal sun.

Maybe he was a little too caught up in his thoughts, or maybe he just hadn't expected a little redheaded human to be so careless as to run into somebody and get paint all over them. Whatever the cause behind it, Eric was bombarded by the sudden scent of wet latex-based paint and near the same moment, covered in it.

His suit was expensive, but he didn't care so much about that. It could be replaced. Usually he was fast enough to get out of the way of people who might run into him. This time he hadn't. He could only guess that she'd been walking that erratically, and he'd been that caught up in his thoughts. Still, it wasn't that which bothered him.

Eric looked at the color dripping off of his hand and down his front.

"Violet? Really. Really. Who even paints their house this color." He flicked his wrist and paint spattered against the sidewalk.

The meeting with Peter had been curious. Annie had discovered many things about the newcomer. He was kind. And helpful. She hoped that he fared well within the City and didn't get too messed up about what could go on within it. Though he seemed to know more than a little bit about strangeness.

She had managed to get the machines in her shop to explain more about what had gone on. It seemed like she'd been gone for a really long time, but the date when she looked at it on calendars and newspapers said the same as when she'd left. The machines couldn't account for that. She'd tried to do some investigation on her own, and come up with nothing. She needed somebody who knew the City better.

Annie had been trying to reach out to Fred through the tablet that they had built a connection through, but hadn't gotten any kind of answer. From what she could tell, the tablet was still there, but Fred was not, and it didn't seem as if she'd used the device anytime recently. Which was totally weird, because Fred used those things all the time. She'd tried to reach out to Dinah, too, and gotten nothing there, either.

It worried her.

She had a lot of paranoia about who might be gone. There was one very important face that she hoped was still present, but found herself far too nervous to actually call. His number was still in her phone, and his home slash work was still there - she was standing in front of it currently - but what if he wasn't? What if the arms weren't inside? What if the security system didn't remember her? What if even Jarvis wasn't there, or it was a new Jarvis that didn't know who she was?

Annie pulled on the end of her hair, a curl that had slipped loose from the ponytail she'd pulled it into.

Stark Tower was tall. As tall as it had ever been. She looked up and up and up to the floor that would hopefully contain her lab. She couldn't tell from here if her stuff was still up there. Obviously. It was way too high.

"Crap." She muttered to herself. There was only one way to know for sure. She had to go in. "Craaaaap."

What if he wasn't?

Annie shook her head and squared her shoulders. She would go look, goddamn it. The little blonde began the journey across the street, barely glancing left and right to make sure it was safe to cross.

He'd slept face down where he'd fallen, clothed still head to toe in suit and dress shoes. When he woke, he'd used the en suite to freshen up, then changed into the clothing that lingered in the guest wardrobe. After a second's pause, he realized that they were his clothes after all. The City, perhaps. No maid would dare enter his chamber - guest room or not - while he was in it. Hannibal might, however. The pianist was meddlesome as he was talented. Erik was still irritated with him.

With hair still damp from the shower, he walked back to the center of the bedroom, then turned aimlessly. There was no light coming in from the balcony door save that of the moon, and it was only then that he recognized that he was in the dark. The dark had become such a companion to him in the last few weeks that it seemed as nothing to walk in it, to breathe inside it. His unnatural eyes had never struggled to see in the dark, which is why he was so suited to living in the house by the lake under the Opera House.

Erik's mind and heart were full of contradictions. He wanted to end this wearisome existence - but at the same time, there was the voice that had kept him in this manor as well. He wanted his piano piece for Hannibal to be the last thing he wrote, and yet, he wanted to force that golden soprano into the shape of something designed just for it. He touched the band of gold on his left hand and shut his eyes. Above everything else, he wanted his wife back.

He found himself standing on the balcony, violin loosely in his grip. The violin... Had the City laid it out for him as well? That felt more like Hannibal. Meddlesome lad. Erik set the instrument firmly under his chin, but couldn't lift the bow to play. After a long few moments standing there, he finally sat down on the balcony floor and leaned his back against the stone wall of his manor. His eyes closed again. Music felt like his grief, amplified. He didn't know how to rise above it, and didn't know if he wanted to or if he should. It felt right to grieve.Ah, but it hurt. Anything he played would hurt, too.

So he was silent and still on that balcony. Still, until he heard the faint shish below, and knew it for a door opening. Erik lifted his head and listened more keenly.