Patchwork

Of Gods and Tricksters

Okay, so, hello readers! I figure it's about time that I say hi. And stuff. Now, I'm getting kind of tired of just making chapters every now and then with the others' stories, so I'll just do it randomly throughout each chapter! When I switch to a character perspective, you'll see a sign for defferent characters. Lyra's is  [+Fandom (1)]                                    Roxy's is [<3 <> <3<]                                     Benny's is [@2D3D4D]

                                     Winter's is [$^$]

Don't forget these! At first it'll be hard, so I'll just put the name in parentheses beside it, but eventually you'll recognize these as though they were old friends! Good luck!

                                                                [+Fandom (1)]

Lyra and Andesine had been training for a while now, while traveling to the next temple. Sherlock was actually really helpful, even though he also made Lyra want to punch him as hard as possible. Yes, he was handsome and smart and all that, but still. When a guy tells you to place your foot 'over there' and doesn't tell you exactly where over there might be, it makes one mad. But she supposed that she was very much the same. Andesine, who could be twice as annoying as the consulting detective, shouted advice from the sidelines.

"You aren't doing it right," he admonished her. "Water elementals are VERY good at seeing through feints. Even I could tell you were trying to get his guard down."

"Oh, shut up," Lyra growled. "You haven't been fighting a genius for four hours."

"Genius?" Sherlock asked. "Why, I am much more than a genius."

"Sherlock Holmes, shut your festering piehole," Lyra commanded, turning on him.  He said nothing.

Then he replied, simply, "Don't use the word 'piehole' around me. It's far too idiotic of a phrase for anyone I even consider teaching to use."

"I'll use whatever words I like, thank you," she retorted. She realized her mistake, just moments before she hit the ground, Sherlock's hand around her throat, the other holding a primed shotgun.

"Never let your guard down." The detective said coolly, pocketing the shotgun. "Don't call me again unless you are prepared to do as I say."

Lyra rolled her eyes as Sherlock walked back into his home dimension. She could call him whenever she liked- the keys dropped their people off at random points during the timeline. The only times it seemed they weren't summoned would be during the very early years or when they are incredibly old.

Lyra's phone beeped [Forgot to mention, the Plant Elementals pretty much gave her everything she needed. But you're smart, so you've probably figured that out already.], alerting her to an incoming message from Pesterchum. She unlocked it, still feeling giddy about having a gadget this awesome. Compared to the flip phone she'd been carting around since third grade, this was pure gold.

Opening Pesterchum, she noticed something odd almost right away. The chumhandle was missing, for starters. And the text of whoever it was seemed to be flashing gold.

????? began monitoring referenceRhapsody at 2:06 PM.

??: OI. YOU.

RR: uh, who is this?

??: SHIT.  HOW DO I SAY THAT BASICALLY I'M YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE AND YOUR BEST FRIEND OF ALL TIME? WHAT IS THAT IN HUMAN TERMS?