The Universe's Mixer

Enough time had passed since Ariel's abduction and recovery that Eric felt it was alright to reach out to the girl directly and check on her health. Bran had been keeping an eye on her well-being. She seemed to be functioning alright, as holed up in an apartment as she was. The windows were always constantly shifting so the bird was able to peer in at her from every angle thereabout. Bran noticed, too, the man with the metal arm. Bucky. James Barnes. Eric recognized him from the slab of marble erected in his honor at the Library. Steve had asked for Eric's help to assist in soothing the man and yet the Avenger had never reached out. Eric was alright with that, it meant really that his services weren't needed. Eric wasn't sure if he could endure taking on any more pain and storing it. Especially not pain aged and hungry like that. But Rogers was a friend and Eric would be there if the call ever did come.

Finally the girl did leave the apartment. She ventured out on her own and Eric was glad to see that she was happy. The way she skipped, the merriment in the enticing tones of her soft humming. Her hair seemed brighter, her eyes carried a glow that meant she was radiating from the inside. He was very glad she had recovered. Eric was aware of her friendship with Macklyn, and while he doubted the two had talked recently the hybrid could tell that Macklyn held the slender mermaid high in regard. And she would know who he was simply by the connection and their co-existence in the TARDIS.

Reaching out to her wasn't out of the normal ways of the world.

Eric did stop her and she welcomed his company. So kind she was, so eager to please and willing to listen. Together they walked through the park and she updated him on all of the things in her life. A bench found them, as Ariel had always been one to sit and listen, and they talked. Mostly Eric listened as she discussed herself, Steve and Bucky. Only, she called him James. Always James. Eric was glad for her. He could tell by the tone in her voice and the way her heart fluttered as she spoke James' name that she loved him dearly. If anyone deserved all of the love in the world it was the red-head. Ariel had seen her share of hatred and struggle. Humanity had not been as kind to her as it had some others. But she deserved it more than anyone.

"And what of you, Eric? How have you been?" Ariel asked, eyes alight with wonder.

The hybrid appreciated the question, the concern from her. They had not been friends before but he felt like they would be after this point. It was hard not to like the girl immensely. "I've been doing well, thank you. Ben and I have been staying pretty busy," Eric explained. Ariel nodded. "Can you read my mind? Like Ben can?" Ariel asked. Eric shook his head, "That's not a trick I picked up when he shared with me. I think that's really a fairy thing."

Ariel tilted her head at Eric, and she frowned some. "Shared? I don't understand what that means." Of course she didn't. He hoped she never had to know what that meant. But for all of the bad things that could come with it, even better things were to be had.

"Oh. I guess Ben didn't tell you." Eric could share with Ariel, but not like Ben. He didn't think it was the same thing. "I had an accident on the island, you see...I almost died. Ben saved me. He shared some of his blood with me and that's the reason I'm here today." It seemed a simple thing to explain.

Her tiny hand found his forearm and she looked sad, concerned. "Shared blood?" Her eyebrows lifted. She reflected back on something Ben had told her long ago about creatures that drank blood. Killed fairies for it. Vampires.

Ariel stiffened.

Eric tilted his head at her.

"How did he share his blood with you? Do you drink blood?" Ariel asked, her voice small.

"A wound, I think. I don't recall," he explained, before shrugging his shoulders at her, "I didn't used to, but I guess that comes with the species." A casual slip up. He couldn't lie to her. He figured she knew what Ben was even though he hadn't told her his true name. Eric wouldn't either.

Ariel's eyes widened. "Are you a vampire?" Was Ben a vampire too? He had kept the truth from her.

"Oh. Uh, I am now. But only part." So she didn't know. Damn.

The mermaid was up and fleeing before any other words could be said. Eric didn't chase after her. He could feel her fear but he could feel her sadness most of all. A friend had not told her the truth and she had trusted his word. It broke her heart.

Bran cawed and Eric shot him a look. You are often too giving, Bran whispered.

Be quiet, Eric replied. He had to fix this. But he didn't know even where to start.

Time had passed and Siggy remained in this strange place.

The strange Anglewoman, Peggy, allowed her to remain in her dwelling. It was akin to the monks' cells that she had heard Athelstan speak of, or a bee's hive: closed in, with no space for a proper hearth. There were no rushes on the floor: only wood and a rough fixed cloth-like material that must forever be dirty. Everything seemed both bright and open and too closed at the same time.

To pass the time and repay Peggy for her kindness, Siggy did what she knew: she could run the woman's house for her. She could cook, clean, and order her business. Unfortunately, there was not much to do. Peggy had no children to look after. She had no livestock to watch. Without a proper hearth, Siggy's cooking could not be put to proper use (though she had managed to make butter and start a cheese, which currently sat in the cold white box.) Her last attempt at making bread had failed in that miserable excuse for an oven. There was no loom with which to weave cloth, nor wool to spin.

At a loss, Siggy sat on the overly soft seat and pressed the buttons to make the things on the television change until she found something interesting. Something captivating. Something that she could relate to.

She was still enraptured when Peggy got home.

There was only so long that Arya could stay in Erik's mansion. Mag was nice, but there were only so many times that she could see the same person before getting sick of her. And there was a whole city out beyond the fence. Arya had only seen a glimpse of it before Erik's car hit her. She was curious. She was bored. She needed to get out.

Her leg was almost better now, she was sure. Her ribs felt better--she could take deep breaths without it hurting at all. She was positive that she would be fine if she went out on her own. It was just a matter of timing. So she waited and watched for a few days and planned it all out. Finally, she dressed in the clothes that she'd arrived in--the clothes in her room were all dresses, pretty dresses, and she could not sneak very well in them--and then she took Needle for protection and snuck out.

Arya limped along quickly, still in her cast but moving well despite that, wide-eyed at the sights outside of Erik's mansion. There--more cars. Now that she knew what they were, they weren't quite so frightening. They were just carts without horses, and she wasn't scared of carts. There--giant buildings of metal and glass. There--food. By now she had been out for some time, and was hungry.

The sign said "Cafe", and she could smell warm bread and other things. Arya knew what she looked like--no longer as skinny and undersized as she had been in Westeros thanks to regular meals, no longer dirty, but her clothes were still battered and her hair was still ragged. She approached the man at the counter, exaggerating her limp and making her eyes big and sad. "I'm so hungry," she said. "Do you have something to spare?"

The man at the counter didn't spare her a glance. "You either pay or you leave. Don't bother the customers."

Arya tried again. "Please," she said. "My leg hurts so bad and I'm hungry."