📜🎩 T H E ☆ M A G I C I A N - Act 61 (Including Pics!)

Content possibilities for the whole story: original content, w/w(?) or overall queerness, fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, asexuality/demisexuality, cryptid (?) pregnancy, nb(?)preg, sexual & kink awakening, stuffing, nausea, gender ambiguity, toxic relationships, partially male-presenting pregnancy, birth, transphobia (mention), dysphoria, depression & suicidal thoughts, parental conflicts, cnc-like intercourse, use of alcohol and other drugs, demons, religions & mythology (diverse), cursing, profanity, belly focus & sounds

🐍▶ Read all from the start
Part I: 1-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 l 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Part II: 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 28½ | 29 | 30 | 30½ | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 41½ | 42 | 43
Part III: 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 |
🎩▶ Last Chapter

Spotify🎵 Mel | Mary | Bastet | Lusje | Lynette 🎵

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T H E  ☆  M A G I C I A N

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Act 61

Mary 

Mary hadn't yet put her shoes back on when she got out of the car, but at least this time she remembered about them. In contrast to her usual self, she did not give a warm smile to the porter who held the door open for her. She entered the building and went up the blindingly pompous stairs right to the receptionist. 

“Hey, sorry, I just want to ask about my guest. Clarke’s my name,” her voice poured out, a little out of breath, not thinking much about decency. 

The employee smiled at her. “Of course, Miss Clarke. Let me check,” she responded friendly, going through her files.

Mary took the chance to take a deep breath and regain countenance. Under different circumstances she would’ve been embarrassed to stand barefoot in such a luxurious place, but she didn’t have the capacity for anything other than worry, which had been growing exponentially over the drive here. 

“My guest should’ve arrived not too long ago,” she added apprehensively.

“What was the name?”

“Van de Sterren. Or of the Stars…?”

The eyes of the receptionist lit up upon those titles; clearly she knew Melodie. Thankfully, she hid her excitement behind professionalism and didn’t ask further.

“I’m sorry, Miss Clarke, but…”

“Maybe just Mel?”

“I’m sorry,” the woman repeated, “there really isn’t anyone here.”

Mary's respiration became slightly more rapid. Her anxiety increased further, looming behind her like a physical monster.

The receptionist must’ve sensed her agitation, because she suggested, “Your guest probably hasn’t arrived yet. How about you go to your room and refresh yourself until then? It has been cleaned, and fresh fruits and flowers have been delivered. They look especially lovely today.”

“But what if I miss—”

“Please don’t worry, Miss Clarke. I will call you once Van de Sterren—or anyone else—arrives for you. I’m here for the rest of the night, and nobody can enter without me knowing. I promise.”

Hesitant at first, Mary eventually agreed, bid her goodbye, and left for her room, this time at a much slower pace.

What was the meaning of all of this? Maybe it was just a little misunderstanding. Mel’s message was conveyed via a third party, after all. Maybe she said that she will come to Mary’s hotel, not that she’s already waiting there. That would make so much more sense in actuality, since she wouldn’t have time to get here, anyway.

Or maybe she was waiting at another hotel? Or maybe at her own place? 

The overthinking almost drove her mad!

She opened her clutch and took out her phone to call Mel again. She had tried so in the car, but unlike Lynette, she hadn’t been so lucky as to get to talk to her. Every time she called, nobody picked up at first, then it told her that the other person was currently unavailable. There wasn’t even a voicemail. 

It was no different this time.

Mary put the phone back into her bag and tried to calm herself down. The receptionist was probably right. And Mary also really needed to refresh herself. She was sweaty, her hair was messy, and she had been constantly running around barefoot, making her feet very dirty. Plus, she wanted to get out of this uncomfortable dress.

The woman also had mentioned fresh fruits and flowers. The fruits were something Mary’s father usually orders for her during her stays, to make sure she has a healthy snack option, but the flowers were most likely from Melodie. She had started to send Mary those after their last meeting in Paris on a weekly basis, often accompanied by a little gift like pralines or a card. Being an old-school gentleman, she knew full well about the language of flowers, and it brought Mary great pleasure to research and rumor about the respective messages. They usually had one thing in common, though: they included Rosmarinus officinalis. Or in other words, Rosemary. Seeing these delicate little flowers and finding out that they are strongly connected with ‘remembrance’, as well as ‘fidelity’, ‘love’ and ‘friendship’ in floriography, had helped Mary to cope with her name even more. In some cases it also stood for… well. Something akin to lust, but knowing Mel, she was almost sure that she hadn’t had that in mind when choosing them.

In any case—maybe there was a new hint connected to the flowers. Maybe Lynette hadn’t been too off, and this was meant as a little romantic adventure, maybe even some sort of scavenger hunt. It would actually fit Mel’s style rather well. And that might also explain why she wanted to get rid of Mary at the event—maybe the guy they met had something to say about this secret.

That didn’t sound too implausible…

Even though it made sense, Mary still couldn’t really unwind. There was a strange feeling in her guts that she just couldn’t ignore. As if something inside of her was able to see something her mind couldn’t comprehend. 

“Calm down, Mary. Don’t catastrophize. You’re just new in the relationship game, it’s normal to misread and overinterpret.” She tried to soothe herself loudly in an attempt to convince herself.

She would go to her room, where she would eat one of the fruits to unwind and look for clues. Or, well, just wait for the receptionist to call. 

She unlocked one of the doors to her suite and put down her shoes and bag. Deliveries were usually brought to the living room, so before she turned left to go to the bedroom to change her clothes, she immediately turned right. Strangely, the living room was rather dark—the lights hadn’t turned on by themselves like in all the other rooms.

But Mary saw it nevertheless: a bouquet with red roses only, something Mel had never sent her before. 

Only when she approached closer to inspect if there was a card or something hidden did she notice a far bigger change in the room: there was a person sitting in one of the armchairs.

It was Melodie.
But something was off.

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