#{ chatzy }

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: September, Before Kieran's Birthday Party LOCATION: Downtown, Wicked’s Rest PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) and Kieran (@debauchfairy) SUMMARY: Anita and Kieran run into each other and after note of Anita's birthday celebration and their mutual friend, they realize that the evening might be more fun if they join forces and wind up stumbling upon a curious sight. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

There was a certain energy that encapsulated downtown Wicked’s Rest that always invigorated Anita. Even for a small town there was a bustle and hustle, particularly after the sun had set, that exuded a dangerous excitement. Perhaps for the average human resident of the town the danger outweighed the excitement, but for the lamia it was the other way around. With the college classes about to start back up again for the semester the town was filled to its brim with residents; older students going out to party and enjoy their time before studying began, younger ones trying to scheme their ways into the shadier establishments with fake IDs. A late summer night in town was anything but dull. 

Anita had closed out her tab at a bar around the corner and was loitering around the streets near The Common when she spotted a vaguely familiar face cutting through the park. Before she had placed where she recognized him from with any definitiveness, Anita started walking towards him and skipped herself into walking beside the tall semi-stranger. As she looked up at him the pieces fell into place - Wyatt’s plus one from her birthday party. She smirked. “What’s a guy like you doing out all alone on a night like this?” 

—

Making the most of the end of summer felt imperative - as a general rule, as much as Kieran tended to take stock in those, people retreated back into their boring routines and normal lives as soon as summer ended. The mix of weather and vacation was the perfect setting for a faun but, ever the optimist, Kieran wasn’t worried about the turn of the seasons, either. Fall brought with it a different kind of crowd, the new students and a continued flow of tourists, even people looking to forget that summer was over and they were back at their mind-numbing jobs. So really, making the most of any evening was the takeaway here and Kieran had certainly done as much for what had already passed of this one. 

He was heading back to where the night had started, seeing if another hour or two could be stretched from this evening when someone suddenly joined him. It took a second but as soon as her charming features lit up with that smirk, it registered. Anita, Wyatt’s friend and the host of a very successful birthday party. “What makes you think I’ve spent the whole night alone?” Kieran shot back with a smirk to match hers, running a hand through his hair as it was already tousled beyond repair either way, a raise of his eyebrow alluding to the cause. “I could ask the same of you. Even though I’m very pleased to finally properly meet you - anyone who can pull off a themed event like you did is someone I need to know.” 

—

There was nothing that specifically indicated to Anita that Kieran wasn’t human - beyond his generally cool vibes - yet she felt almost instantly a distinct lack of humanity to him. She liked to think that she was able to tell who was and wasn’t human based on vibes alone, even though the data did not necessarily support her belief in this superpower. “Well, you were alone before I found you. Did you ditch your date or did your date ditch you?”

The compliment about her party made the lamia’s smile widen, she knew that her party had been exceptional but it was always good to actually hear others confirm what she knew. “It is quite lovely to meet you properly as well, I usually know people a bit better before they have wild sex somewhere in my house… not always, but usually I at least know a name. You and my Wyatt seemed to have a great time. Anyone who knows how to properly enjoy a party is someone I need to know.”

“Now that we know each other properly, and we both seem to be alone this fine evening…” Anita picked up her pace, moving up and turning around, walking backwards so she was facing him with a devilish smirk, “wanna get into some weird shit tonight?” 

_

This was an acceptable turn of events for this evening as Kieran really did enjoy having acquaintances that served a much different purpose than say, his previous company or Wyatt. Although the shifter did have the added benefit of having offered to eat anyone that posed a problem and faintly, Kieran did wonder if Anita knew or even could relate. If the two were really that close then it seemed likely - Wyatt wasn’t the best at keeping his cover, it seemed. And Anita did carry an air of simply being better than your average townsperson. “Not ditched, he’d just served his purpose is all,” Kieran hummed, full and content. His euphoria had tasted like a tropical drink on a warm beach - very fitting for the end of summer. 

A glance at Anita’s face confirmed that she held no grudges for the little stunt pulled at the party and Kieran’s grin was bright and without the slightest hint of regret. “Think your margarita bar was partly to blame there. That and, I’m presuming it was you, teaching Wyatt how to salsa.” Not that they’d needed a reason, it had been rather inevitable. But at least it seemed Anita most likely had no clue as to what Kieran really was or what these great times really entailed. Seeing how much she seemed to care about Wyatt, she probably wouldn’t have been all too fond of him being a faun’s regular late night snack. Which really, would have been an overreaction if you asked Kieran - the shifter was fine. Mostly. “But I guess that makes you entitled to a name. Kieran.” 

An eyebrow quirked as Anita, suddenly the picture of mischief, rather impressively walked backwards considering she was anything but sober. Really, with those looks and that attitude, he both pitied and envied anyone she set her sights on. Well, anyone unable to keep up with her, a category he decidedly did not fit into. Kieran pretended to think about her offer for a moment but a smirk to mirror Anita’s was quick to give him away. “You had to know the answer would be yes.” Catching up, he looped an arm in hers, the giddy and playful energy filling the air around them. “Lead the way.” 

_ 

Served his purpose. Oh, what a deliciously curious phrasing. Yet more evidence to support the non-human hypothesis Anita was developing.  “Ay, when there is a dance floor, top shelf tequila, and good Spanish music playing… I can’t help but teach anyone in my vicinity how to salsa. Wyatt was just in the right place at the right time.” 

It was no surprise when Kieran agreed to her proposal, the two seemed like kindred spirits in their pursuit of mischief and fun. Wyatt would have told her if he was a fellow lamia, that much she felt sure of, but beyond that the possibilities were plentiful of who her newfound partner in crime for the evening could be. Keeping pace as they linked arms, Anita quickly ran down the list of options for where they should go. 

The night warranted more than just the average dive bar that this town afforded. Thankfully, Anita knew exactly where to lead them. “We’re in luck. I know this person who throws these strange, exclusive parties once a month over in Nightfall Grove. Tonight just happens to be the night.” Looking him over as she guided them towards the party location, Anita pursed her lips slightly, “You’re not particularly opposed to this outfit getting slightly dirty and/or wet, are you?” 

_ 

It was becoming clearer by the second that Kieran’s first instinct about Anita had been right on the money. Better yet, he might have even underestimated how much the two of them seemed to have in common, even if her salsa skills might have outweighed his own. “I appreciate your willingness to share the joy. A man that doesn’t know how to dance is entirely useless.” Perhaps it was more so an unwillingness to dance rather than the actual skill that was a turn off but Kieran’s persuasion hadn’t failed him yet when it came to changing someone’s mind about the dance floor. 

Even still, she continued to be just what the faun looked for in entertaining company, the buzzwords of strange and exclusive drawing a pleased hum from Kieran. “I clearly should have reached out for your company sooner,” he stated and as far as compliments went, this was a top shelf one coming from Kieran. Anita’s question had him glancing down simply to remember what he’d put on at the start of the evening (and again not that long ago), seriously balancing the prospect of a refreshing kind of night out against the possible death of a somewhat cherished outfit. 

“I’m not not opposed but if you–” Whatever terms he was about to set stayed unspoken as a sound of distress diverged his attention, keen ears picking up on what sounded like a cry for help. With the arm still looped in Anita’s, Kieran steered them towards the source of the sound without an explanation, just in time to catch sight of someone being dragged off somewhere quiet, clearly against their will, by two dark clad strangers. He finally looked at Anita, eyebrows raised in a silent question of whether they could maybe just ignore having seen that. 

_ 

As eager as Anita was to hear the rest of his response, the nearby screams that rang out undoubtedly captured a bit more of her attention. Without missing a step, she followed along with Kieran towards the source of the mysterious calls of distress. Screams were not uncommon in this town - not while alone in the woods and not while on busy downtown streets. Oftentimes, they were screams of humans getting themselves into trouble and Anita tended to avoid getting involved in human-on-human affairs. 

Turning the corner to see who was causing this person to scream, however, piqued her interest. They didn’t necessarily look not human, but there was something about the synchronicity of their movements that seemed quite curious. Anita met Kieran’s gaze and shrugged a bit, as if to say ‘why not follow and see what happens?’ 

Without waiting for a response to the question that was never really asked, the lamia kept walking towards the screams with her arm linked with Kieran’s. The kidnappers dragged their apparent victim down a more secluded side-street and Anita shifted her eyes to those of the rattlesnake so that she could see better in the darkness. There didn’t seem to be anything else awaiting them down there. “I’m not saying this is more exciting than the party… but it will make for one hell of a party story,” she whispered. 

_ 

Anita didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest as they observed what was essentially a kidnapping, a good quality to have in a town like this. Still interested in the night his company had suggested, and unable to have that night without her, Kieran couldn’t find any particular argument as to why they couldn’t follow along for a bit. A quiet thought asked if maybe there was a way to help without getting involved but no, any sort of involvement just spelled out ‘messy’. 

Getting beat up over a situation he’d gotten himself in was one thing but that was not a price he was willing to pay for some stranger. Maybe they should have done more to keep themselves out of trouble if they didn’t want to get kidnapped. 

“It’s not going to be that great if they just hang out here,” Kieran argued quietly, unsure of what sort of action would make this an interesting story to recount. A surprise shift from the victim into some sort of deadly creature, one that would maul the attackers without batting an eye? Maybe this was the fun kind of kidnapping, some sort of bachelor party shit or a really intense sex game? “You think this is a real kind of kidnapping?” 

—

It was a fair point, the story lacked a good ending, which it needed to have any value to them at the party. The set up was immaculate: witnessing someone get dragged off by shadowy figures on their way to the party. But without something else, without something more, then the story was all set up and no pay off. Anita nodded at the question, commenting casually, “Yes. There are fun kinds of screams and there are screams of terror. I have heard plenty of both. There is a certain tone in a person’s voice when they are terrified for their life. This seems real.” 

The kidnappers stopped moving, abruptly, halfway down the alley. Unsure if they were stopping because they realized there was an audience or for some other reason, Anita wondered if she and Kieran were being too obvious in their following. She didn’t really want to ruin her outfit by shifting if she didn’t have to, so she hoped that there was some other reason. 

Then, suddenly, a fascinating ending to this party story appeared out of thin air. Quite literally. A foreign glow began to appear, as if a doorway was being opened where there had not been a door. “Fascinating…” Anita said, as she watched in awe as the creatures struggled to shove their victim through the portal that had opened up. 

—-

He so wanted to dive deeper into Anita’s casual comment on screams of terror - sure, it didn’t necessarily mean she was the one causing those sounds considering where they lived but Kieran was even more curious than before - but spying on supposedly dangerous strangers didn’t seem the time or place for a gossip. “I am very excited to get to know you better,” he settled for informing her, just as well since Anita’s party story seemed to be getting its ending.

Kieran hadn’t been expecting whatever sort of magic this was. A murder, supernatural or otherwise, sure. Maybe even something more nefarious but not… a portal seemed like a ridiculous word to use, even for someone who literally transformed their entire appearance with little more than a thought (and magic). The person they were trying to push through this strange new pathway seemed less than willing, which made sense. “Hmm,” Kieran offered in response, eyes trained on the struggling kidnap-ee until they were suddenly engulfed by the light, the sounds of struggle vanishing along with them. 

Blinking, the form of the strange door etched into his retinas, Kieran looked to Anita. “Looks like you have your ending,” he murmured, placing a hand on her arm in the universal gesture for ‘let’s get out of here before someone tries to send us through a strange, glowing portal too’. Impeccable timing, really, as an offended ‘hey!’ came from the two kidnappers, eyes turning to their little audience. Oops. 

—

A wide grin spread across Anita’s face at the notation of getting to know Kieran better, she wasn’t surprised that was his take away from spending just a brief period of time with her, but it was always lovely to hear confirmation of how well her charms worked. “Very few people have lived to regret getting to know me better,” she commented with a wink, which was not wrong. Most people didn’t get to live with any regret they may have ultimately had for getting to know her. Typically, she ate them before that happened. But she didn’t have plans on eating Kieran. 

Anita was incredibly intrigued by what these kidnappers had in store for this person and this portal. She hadn’t seen anything like this before and while her curious instinct made her want to stay and learn more, her survival instincts did not want to get shoved into that portal. So she just watched from a distance with bated breath as the struggle reached its climax, the doorway portal disappearing just as mysteriously as it had appeared. 

“Yeah, I suppose we should head to the party now,” the sentence barely left Anita’s lips when she heard the shout from the two kidnappers. Now that was a real ending to the story! Without missing a beat, Anita reached out towards her fellow onlooker as she started running back down the alley where they had come from. She figured his long legs would help him catch up to her quickly, and they weren’t far from the party anyway… what better way to show up than out of breath with a delicious story to share? 

_ 

[mayihaveyournameplease]

The Wolf, the Spriggan and the BMV || Beau & Kyle

who: @xdarkhowlx & @mayihaveyournameplease when: recent where: bmv what: kyle meets the town's best bmv employee while making corrections to his identification warnings: none!

Because of a typo on a form, Kyle found himself waiting around at the BMV for his number to be called. It was the right kind of temperature where you’re not too hot, and you’re not too cold, and yet you’re clammy. The fluorescents buzzed at just the right pitch for the sound to settle into a pressing headache just above his left eye. It smelled like someone had just microwaved fish for lunch. Despite the special pocket of hell that existed in this stupid governmental office, the singular employee seemed to be having the best day possible. Kyle detested him for it. 

By the time his number was called, Kyle had created a narrative explaining all the reasons this chipper man was the way he was. Watching this man have a normal day made Kyle’s day worse. “Hi, I’m Kyle Pryce and I guess I fu–uhh, messed something up and now my tags are way past expired and I think I gotta just fill it out again,” he rushed out in a large breath. “So, can you…help me with that, then?”

—

Beau hated when people gave him their names before they asked. It was rude. It meant that he was going to have to awkwardly ask them for their names again, and they would look at him like he was stupid. At least he would get the pleasure of looking back at them like they were stupid when they realized they didn’t have a name anymore. Beau sighed, adjusting his glasses and looking down at the kid in front of him. “Kyle Pryce. Uh huh. Do you have forms 1082r, 1293c, 1082rda, and 1329p filled out already?” Beau grabbed the forms from the guy's hands and started flipping through them. 

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Hmmm. Haha, so what you can’t spell?” Beau marked something with his pen, he started typing on his computer. He really liked to put on a show when he was helping people. Working at the BMV was a production, and the show was the worst place on earth. “Very expired, haha. You could go to jail for that.” Probably. Beau didn’t actually know the law, he only knew the scope of things that involved the paperwork he needed to do here. “May I get your name?” 

—

The numbers of forms swam in Kyle’s head. Before he could even check to make sure he had those forms, they were being snatched from his hands. Kyle had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something. If he pissed off the BVM guy, he would likely have to come back and do all this again, and he wouldn’t do that. 

At the next question, Kyle felt his ears redden. He couldn’t spell, no, but this douchebag didn’t need to know he was dyslexic. That was just a mean ass thing to say. “Uh, I just made a typo. Or two. I’m human, mistakes happen.” He didn’t mean to sound defensive, but they weren’t starting this off on the right foot. He didn’t want to go to jail for having expired tags (or for petty assault of this man), so he swallowed his pride and nodded. “Yeah, I just told you my name. It’s—isn’t it on the paperwork? I swear I had to put it on there.”

—-

Beau continued the show. He typed loudly at the computer, a random key smash on the computer’s notepad. Kyle was talking. Made a typo or two. Kids these days. They never checked their work. They never did anything right. They always tried to slide by then got defensive when they were met with the consequences of their actions. Tip. Tap. Type. “Right. You’re only human, after all.” It was disdain that laced his voice, fighting with the smile plastered on his face. 

Then Kyle decided to be rude. Was it not enough to be stupid? Must he be the harrowing combo of stupid and rude? Beau let out a long-suffering sigh, still fighting with the smile forcibly plastered on his face. “It’s on your paperwork. But there are rules and regulations. There is a correct way to go about this. There is a procedure. When I ask, ‘May I get your name?’ I’m asking you to tell me that you know what name is on these papers. Since you couldn’t spell it right the first time, we need to confirm a few things to get the ball rolling. Let’s try this again. May. I. Get. Your. Name?” He paused after each word, tongue clipping them off sharply as he stared down the kid across from him. 

—-

There was a tone to this foul little man’s voice that set Kyle’s teeth on edge. He couldn’t place it, but the constant smile, the way he slammed his fingers onto the keys—Kyle was getting more frustrated by the second. He hated this man, and they’d only just gotten started. “Rules and regulations,” he parroted. “I get that, but why can’t you just read the forms? What’s the point in filling them out if you don’t read them?”

He grit his teeth, and breathed out steadily through his nose. It’s fine, he told himself. Just get through this without wolfing out. He could always go to the basement later and let it out if he was still worked up. “Fine. My name is Kyle Mahihkan Pryce.” As soon as the words left his mouth, it was like they disappeared into the ether. What had he just said? He couldn’t quite remember. There was an itch in his brain, like the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite reach them. What had they been talking about?

—-

Beau rolled his eyes, as if this kid was asking the dumbest questions on the planet. To be fair, Beau did think this kid was asking the dumbest questions on the planet. What kind of questions was that? “Why can’t you just read the forms?” Beau repeated the question back patiently, kindly, despite wanting to use an open and mocking tone. “Don’t you know about three factor authentication to keep people from stealing identities?” Wasn’t that funny? There was a policy in place to keep humans from stealing identities, but it made it so much easier for Beau to do it? “Check the papers, check the IDs and get a verbal confirmation of the name, to ensure that the customer knows it without looking.” Beau wanted to roll his eyes. But he didn’t. He was kind like that. 

There was a magical moment right after someone gave him their name. The birds sung, and flowers bloomed, and fae magic wove around him. Kyle Mahihkan Pryce. It wasn’t just a first name. It was all of it. A tasty treat. He copied the name into his program that tracked them. The program wasn’t necessary. He could remember every name as if they had been given to him at birth, along with the faces he’d taken them from. “Perfect.” He kept typing, he did some printing. “That’ll be thirty dollars. Cash or credit?”  It would probably be canceled. Most of these got canceled, as the person realized they couldn’t remember their name and started crying. 

—-

This guy probably didn’t get paid enough to answer questions. ??? had to tell himself that, because this guy was just begging to be knocked out. The tone he used didn’t match the words that came out his mouth, and ??? was left feeling small. He hadn’t thought about multiple factor authentication. It still didn’t make sense to him. If his picture was on his ID, why did he need to give more information? Certainly a BMV employee could identify a fake ID. And his name was right there on his license. Now, if he could just remember that name…

“Cash, I guess,” he replied, fishing in his pocket for a wad of loose bills. He just needed a good nap. He was tired, he was hungry, he was frustrated. A snack and a nap would sort out his brain. That helped him feel better after the disembodied smiles thing at the cemetery. He could accept any weirdness after a nap. Slapping thirty dollars in wrinkled bills on the counter, ??? started to slide them across to the employee, but paused. “I’m sorry, can you just read the name back to me? I’m a little confused.”

—-

Beau took the money, smile turning genuine. “Can’t you just read it from the forms?” He parroted back that so annoying phrase. He typed some more. He filled in some answers and he checked his boxes. “Your identification card is done and paid for. All your typos are now correct. Unless you typo’d on the forms and then you’ll have to come back again.” Beau let out a chorus of laughter, as if that was the funniest thing he could have said. Because it really was funny that this idiot had made typos. 

Beau stapled some papers together and slid everhing back over to the kid. “All done. Bye now.” He switched the number he was now servicing and turned away from the confused soul, back pretending to be typing at his computer. 

—-

Like a fish out of water, ??? opened and closed his mouth, searching for the words to explain how much he didn’t understand what was going on. Before he could articulate his confusion, he was being brushed aside. He could cause a scene. He wanted to cause a scene. He could yell at the employee and demand an explanation. Ge could demand his money back. Or he could take a number and get back in line. Wait his turn and do this little song and dance all over again. Both seemed like awful ideas, and a headache was beginning to settle above his left brow. That nap seemed more and more appealing. This employee did not feel like the one to take the issue up with. He had laughed in ???’s face for a typo. For now, he would go home and reassess. Frustrated, ??? walked out the door, thirty dollars lighter, and unable to recall his own name.

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: 5/7 LOCATION: Van's apartment PARTIES: Van & Nora SUMMARY: Van arrives home to find Nora waiting. WARNINGS: suicidal ideation tw, parental death tw

Roxie had gotten Nora and Jade back to Wicked’s Rest faster than Nora was ready for. (She would never be ready.) Nora convinced Jade to drop her off at the side of a random road and told her she needed time to think about what she’d do and say. If she hadn’t been dropped off in Wicked’s Rest, Nora would have turned around and decided she couldn’t do this. But she wasn’t strong enough to walk out of town again. Hunger and thirst gnawed their way through her, little burrow holes consuming her whole. Nora was home, for better or worse. 

She meandered for a while. A new day came before she made her decision. Van’s first. Van, not like the car, wasn’t home when Nora let herself in. The scent of her friend lingered in the home, but it was stale. Maybe she was at work. Maybe she was with Regan. Maybe she’d forgotten Nora existed and that would be good. Van’s shower was a welcome sight. The hot water boiled her sunburned skin, but the pain wasn’t a deterrent. She scrubbed herself for hours. Pieces of her skin flaked off with the mud. Blood prickled to the surface. Nora kept scrubbing until the water ran cold. The cold water reminded her of the waterfall, of days lounging in Ireland. She exited the shower, checking to make sure Declan was safe and sound in his bag. 

Van still wasn’t home. 

Nora wandered through her friend’s apartment. Banshees had been here, and there had been an urgency in Van’s messages that Nora had ignored. Another on the long list of apologies that she owed. She sat down, in front of the unauthorized art piece she’d been working on, on Van’s walls. She started to work on her apology. Time passed, and Sharpie stained her fingers. Her other hand never left Declan, it couldn’t. The door finally opened, and Van’s scent filled the home. Nora tried to say something, she did. Her mouth opened, and she filled her lungs, but nothing came out. She kept drawing. 

Van let her mind linger too long on things that didn’t matter. Jade didn’t matter right now, and as much as Van was upset with her, she couldn’t put her energy into her. Nora was still missing, personal items left behind on the floor of her crypt. Babadook kept Van company most nights, coming and going as he pleased. The fear that she wore like a second skin served him every meal he’d ever need, but he never lingered long. Perhaps her sadness was too much for him, too. Van struggled to find it in herself to go to work, telling Rocky that she needed a couple of weeks off. He obliged, as the spring semester was nearing its end, so that meant less customers. It was easy to do nothing but stare up at the ceiling of Nora’s crypt, tracing the cobwebs with a raised finger. 

But she couldn’t stay like that for long. How long would it take for Thea to drop by? Emilio? What would they do if they found her there, staring into the nothingness? Thea might awkwardly say a few different lines, and Emilio would call her kid and offer beef jerky or something. He was nicer to her now that Nora had gone missing. Van wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. 

Instead of rotting in Nora’s cot, she pushed herself to go home. She climbed the outer staircase up to the apartment that she and Thea had shared for a short few months. The floor had been cleaned after Regan had visited out of fear that if she ever came home, she would put together what had happened. Now, there was a bright yellow duck carpet in the middle of the room, too far from any door to make sense. Maybe she should’ve gotten something a little classier. Van found that the door was already unlocked, and fear climbed its way through her, making a nest out of her ribcage. She idled by the door, mind immediately wandering to Jade. She couldn’t call her, though. Should she call Emilio? How quick would he get here? She cracked the door open a little wider, gaze immediately drawn to a pair of boots that she’d be able to pick out of any shoe pile. 

“Nora?” Immediately, her gaze leveled on her best friend– sunburnt and raw. Her own words caught in her throat as she haphazardly kicked her own shoes off, sending one flying into the wall. Van rushed forward, throwing her arms around Nora. Nora smelt like hours of scrubbing and sharpie. Van didn’t move away from her right away, too afraid that if she pulled back, it wouldn’t be Nora whose frame she was holding. She closed her eyes, squeezing Nora tightly, memorizing every dip and shallow breath she made, memorizing the way her chest heaved beneath her touch. “I missed you– I’m so glad you’re here–” She finally pulled back, tears pricking her eyes as she searched Nora’s face. “I missed you. Like, a lot, but– what do you need? Nora, what can I do?” Because that was what mattered here. She couldn’t focus on Jade, or her house, or the way that Regan was back (and being taken care of by others). She had to focus on those who wanted her there, those who did right by her. Both Wynne and Nora fell into that category. 

Van was a flurry of emotion and life. As her arms wrapped around her, Nora tensed for the blade to cut Van’s throat or her own. The flutter of activity took her back to Ireland, stuck in the middle of the convent of banshees. She didn’t want to be there. She forced it from her mind, but those memories were worms writhing beneath her surface, wearing tiny warden costumes. Words were stuck in her throat, she wished she was Jade, capable of talking and saying things that meant important ideas. But she was still Nora, always Nora, unfortunately Nora. Nora wanted so badly to be okay, to be normal, to be the friend that Van deserved. To ask about her month, her house blowing up, the banshees. To just speak, but the shadow was shoving its arms down her throat and layering her lungs in rocks.

A deep breath. One foot after another. Live to mourn. Face your punishment. Nora took a deep breath, she tried again. “Van.” Her voice croaked on the word, cracking from lack of vocal use and dehydration. But it was a start. It was a beautiful start, as she looked into her beautiful friend’s face and faced the harsh beautiful love she saw reflected in Van’s eyes. It shouldn’t hurt like this, to be wanted, and missed. But it did hurt, it hurt because she had taken the knife that slit Declan’s throat and carried it with her. She held on to the knowledge she killed Declan as tightly as she held on to his bag of ashes. And that pain made her see how clearly she didn’t deserve everything she was given. It grew the pain to insurmountable levels. 

“I missed you too.” Each word took effort. With each word, she fought the shadow’s grubby hands and flung the rocks out of her lungs to say something. Each word was a cost of her punishment. “I don’t ne-” Her voice cracked on need, she needed Declan to be alive, she needed to have saved him, she needed to never have gone to Ireland, she needed everything to be okay but nothing could ever be okay again. No matter how much she fought, cried, screamed, and lived it would never be okay again and how could she need anything other than that? Nora swallowed back the bile rising inside of her. “I don’t need anything.” She forced the monotone to return to her voice, to be who she was supposed to be, instead of who she was. 

There was nothing to be done about anything. There was only this. Sitting in Van’s apartment, the strong smell of Sharpie wafting around them, two reunited friends. One excited, one who couldn’t stop thinking she shouldn’t be here. It should have been you, the shadow laughed under Declan’s bag. “Sorry about your house.” Because she hadn’t said it before, had she? Before when she didn’t know what it was like to love something and lose it. Van probably loved her house, she’d lived there her whole life. That was something to be in pain over. Nora could relate to that.

The Nora that Van remembered was not sitting in front of her now, but that didn’t matter to her. It wouldn’t have mattered if Nora came home hating her, telling her that she never wanted to see her again, because at the very least, Nora would have been there in front of her, so obviously alive. But was that enough for her? For this Nora? Van wasn’t sure. She stared at her friend for a long time, willing her to say what it was she needed, but that was… ultimately nothing. Van could work with nothing– she had warped her way around it most days, had found herself sitting in the hollows of it. She simply nodded, smoothing her hands up and down Nora’s arms, a reaction to the icy chill of her skin despite the heat of the sunburn that burrowed beneath it. She was both freezing cold and warm at the same time. 

“Okay, we can– nothing.” Van cleared her throat. She remembered the frustration she felt with Nora’s lack of understanding of what could happen in Ireland, especially after what had happened to her and Jade. Now, that frustration had evaporated. Nora had lost somebody. Declan. The boy she claimed to love. The longer Van looked at her, the more and more she knew it wasn’t just a claim. It was real. She could see the hurt of the loss written into the fiber of Nora’s being. If she could, Van would’ve dipped her hand into the pool of hurt and came away with the muck. She would’ve deposited into herself, need be; anything to stop the hurt. 

But that wasn’t how it worked, and Van knew that. Oh God, how she knew that. “It was just a house.” It was more than that, and maybe a little later she would allow herself time to grieve it and what it actually represented, but Nora mattered more in this moment. Van needed to tend to her best friend. She wasn’t good at consolations, but she’d been offered plenty, so she knew what not to say. “I’ve been hanging out with Babadook, I think he missed you, but he’s been like, super fed and everything. This town, the horrors– he’s munching real good.” The words caught in her throat and she moved back in to hug Nora again, burying her face into her friend’s neck. “I’m really glad you’re back, Nora. I’m here, you know. I know it’s– I’m just here, okay?” Because that was what she had needed when she had lost her parents; the reassurance that the person she needed most wouldn’t walk out the door. Of course, she had, but Van could never imagine doing that to Nora. Not in a million years, even though they only had a few decades. “Do you need water? Anything to eat?” Van pulled away slightly, hands never leaving Nora’s shoulders, too afraid that if she retracted them, that Nora would fall away in a plume of smoke. 

Nora saw compassion in Van’s eyes, and it hurt. It hurt to see someone who was right about everything, who’d warned her from the beginning, still hold enough empathy to care that Nora had fucked around and found out. And god how she found out. If she’d listened to the people in her life, the people who cared, the people who’d only ever wanted what was best for her, would Declan be alive? These were trains of thought Nora always got lost in. The circular thinking her mind liked to keep her in. It was a dance. The moment she thought she stepped out, it drew her back in. “It wasn’t just a house. It was your house.” Declan had been Nora’s home. The future. Wherever he was, she wanted to be. A home was where your heart was, and hers was burned in the ashes before her, and Van’s was maybe burned in the house that had been her home. It was all very confusing. It consumed Nora. 

The shadow danced around her, it started to envelop her, wrapping long arms around her. “It should have been you.” It cackled. “It should have been me.” Nora agreed, forgetting that Van was there, real arms touching her. The touch was a comfort, but reality was an escapee. Van was speaking about Babadook, and Nora gripped so desperately to her words, forcing herself to stay present and there. Her hands raised to Van’s on hers, and she held them. She’d never been a physical person before, but now she craved the comfort of being held. It was her newest weakness in a line of weakness that had broken open in her. “I’ve missed him too.” The words were lame, because could she claim to miss all these people when she was so eager to stay in Ireland? So enchanted by the life it promised, that she threw away everything she had here? And Van was looking at her with love and compassion and didn’t Van see? Nora didn’t deserve this. The shadow cackled. 

The ask, if she wanted food, reminded her of the ever-gnawing hunger inside her, but the idea of eating was revolting. It churned her stomach and made her want to wretch. “I’m fine.” Nora lied, a lie that she would find herself repeating until it splintered her throat and ripped out her tongue. “It’s good to just be here. With you.” Because she owed Van those words. Because they were true. Because she wanted this to be enough, to quell the ever blossoming pain inside her. Nora stiffened as Van pulled away, trying to wordlessly tell Van that they didn’t need to end the hug. They could sit there, entwined in each other, until time forgot to check on them. And that would be okay with her, if it was okay with Van. 

“It was replaceable. I live here now.” What wouldn’t have been replaceable was losing Jade to the banshees, and while she wasn’t sure how to feel about her right now, Van felt strongly about that. The same sentiments echoed about Wynne, Regan, and Nora. But Van had let go of the house the moment Regan offered her a place to stay after the goo had taken over Worm Row. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The memories were overwhelming, and while there were a few choice memories here in Regan’s apartment that she would’ve liked to forget, this was what Van considered to be home now. Did Nora feel the same? Was that why she had left? There was a certain kind of desperation in Nora’s expression that Van hadn’t ever seen before. It was distant, too. Van felt as though if she reached out and waved her hand in front of her friend’s face, it would take an eternity for her to react. 

Van stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for Nora to say something. But something else crept up over her shoulder. It wasn’t quite a figure, that much Van could tell. It was reminiscent of Nora’s illusions, suctioned to her as if siphoning the life off of her. She stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the illusion, mind racing against what might be real about it. Nora was reacting to her touch, but Van couldn’t take her eyes off of the apparition that hung over Nora’s shoulder. She nearly missed what Nora had said, and even after she tried to focus on it, she wasn’t sure if she had gotten it right. Van held onto Nora’s hands tightly, fingers threading through hers. She had a lot she wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure now was the time to ask about the shadow acting as a leech. Instead, Van nodded. “I’ll um, go and get him later. Bring him here. I’m sure he’d love to see you.” Could he tell that Nora was back? Had he thought he had been abandoned? Van stared at Nora for a moment longer. 

As she declined the need for food, something gnawed at Van. She knew grief, knew it intrinsically. It etched itself into her in more ways than she cared to admit. It had made a different person out of her, clipping the wings of who she used to be, letting the feathers fall to the ground and become trampled over by her own indecision and self-righteousness. Nora needed help. Van knew that. “We can watch something. Power Rangers, or maybe Shrek.” Van got to her feet slowly, noticing the hollowed out look in Nora’s eyes. It pained her to see her friend like this, and all she wanted to do was help absolve her of the guilt, but how could she? She hadn’t been there. This wasn’t for Nora to fight alone, but Van knew it would be on Nora to accept the fact that she did in fact need help with it. Until then, all Van could do was help her with the menial things. Van pulled Nora up to her feet, supporting the majority of her weight. She tried to avert her gaze from the shadow that lingered over her like an extension of Nora, and began to guide her to the bedroom. “I’ll order food later, too. Um, just let me know what you want, okay?” She squeezed Nora to her side, heart hammering in her chest as she kept the shadow in the corner of her eye. It was looming, threatening to overtake Nora, but Van couldn’t let it. “I missed you like, a lot. Thea did, too. She made so much meatloaf. Um, Emilio, too. I mean, he didn’t make meatloaf, but he missed you.” Had she been by to see him yet? Van thought about messaging him, but there was a reason that Nora had come here wasn’t there? She needed to be here, not anywhere else. 

Van was careful with Nora as she helped her climb into the bed, and Van climbed in right after her, grabbing her laptop. The shadow was still there, snaking around her friend’s neck, keeping her in the chokehold of grief. It made Van’s skin crawl. “We’ll watch something, we’ll eat. You’re safe here.” It was an odd thing, being in control like this– anxiety kept at bay for the sake of needing to be present. She held her foot on its neck, much like she hoped to do by the representation of what Van could only imagine as grief (hers had looked the same, even if it only wound its way through her nightmares) kept its claws dug into Nora. 

Van didn’t want to stay still and melt into the floor with Nora. She kept moving. Hands moving up and down Nora’s arms, Small movements, closer, farther, rocking, breathing. Van was stronger than Nora, Nora could see that now. Van would keep this up, if she had to. Words, movements and ideas while Nora would have allowed herself to disappear between Van’s arms. Throat splitting in two. Blood spilling over the carpet. The cycle of death in the arms of someone you loved continuing. Debbie’s ghost getting her justice. Declan’s ghost already gone to a better place. The shadow raked its nails down her back. The cycle would end with Van, because she was strong. Wouldn’t it be a poetic end? Shakespeare knew nothing of tragedy. 

Nora held onto Van, but Van didn’t want to melt into the carpet. It was replaceable. Nothing in life was replaceable. Didn’t Van see? It would all go, and they could never go back. They would live forever in a forward movement that ripped them from the place they wanted to be and trampled them into the ground while they couldn’t keep up. A side-scroller refusing to let the hero turn around. But Nora wasn’t the hero. She was the antagonist, antagonizing herself over all her mistakes. They could never get back to what was lost. They would spend the rest of their lives dreaming of houses filled with Declan. And it would never come true. So how was Van this calm? Why didn’t Van want to melt into the ground with her? 

It took a lot of energy not to melt. It took concentration to listen. It took effort to live. The shadow overpowered her, consuming her and concealing her. She wanted to see Babadook, yes, that would be nice Van. Thank you, Van. The words were imaginary. In her imagination, they came out clearly. They didn’t have to fight past the shadow’s death grip around her neck. It didn’t matter that Nora couldn’t speak, that her mouth flopped open and closed on a broken hinge. Van never let the silence settle between them for long. With each fresh snowfall of silence, she’d break up the empty witness, snow shoes crunching a path that bridged them together. And Nora admired Van for it. 

Each name Van listed of someone who missed her, sent a new crack shattering through her heart. She thought it was already too broken to keep breaking, but here it was, splintering again and again. Please, she was screaming, I don’t deserve to be missed. Let me rot, let me melt, let me go, I don’t deserve it, this, anything. This was the punishment Jade had spoken of, facing the love and forgiveness. She craved it greedily. She hated herself for it. 

Van moved them from the spot Nora would have melted into the floor. They nestled into her bed. It was warm, dry, and smelled of Van and fabric softener. Nora pressed against her friend’s side, closer than she’d ever dared to be before, staring blankly at the laptop screen as Van typed. Van chose something. It didn’t matter. Her eyes glazed over, trying to ignore the shadow’s constant reminders that she didn’t deserve any of this. That by allowing herself this happiness, she was denying what she’d done to Declan. At some point, Babadook crept in. He crawled his way to the top of the bed and nuzzled Nora. They didn’t share a language, they never had to, they’d understood each other perfectly from the moment they’d met. He smelled like cemeteries, fresh screams, and fritos. She kissed his nose and he licked her face once, before curling around her.  They watched Shrek like this, and when Shrek finished, Shrek Two, Shrek the third, Shrek the Halls, Shrek Forever After, and Five. There were layers to this silent interaction. It was hours of catatonic existence, hours of being sandwiched and held, hours of crying silenting and hoping they wouldn’t notice, hours of being grateful, and hours of excruciating pain. At some point, Nora found her voice again. “I missed you.” It was a croak and a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

[endlessevenings]

Out of Depth || Van & Mahuika

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Like A Charm PARTIES: Van ( @vanoincidence ) and Mahuika ( @endlessevenings ) TRIGGERS: None! SUMMARY: Van ventures into a magic shop out of curiosity and nerves. Mahuika spots her practically like a spider with its prey, and pounces. But in a nice way. Probably.

Van bit down on the inside of her cheek, shooting furtive glances over her shoulder. The woman behind the counter eyed her from behind the book she was reading, eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. This was so stupid. She wasn’t even… what was it, a spellcaster? A magician? A witch? She just had magic. It was an inherent and unfortunate part of her. It was something she didn’t mind the thought of getting rid of, but she didn’t know how. She figured Like a Charm might be the best place to find that information, but for the most part, she wasn’t finding anything that would aid her in her desperation. She thumbed through a couple of different tarot decks, not able to make sense of any of the symbols or images. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t… somebody who would take to this, she was something else entirely. 

A nervous sweat beaded across the back of her neck as she tried to tuck tail and run, but instead of making it through the door, she was slamming into a girl quite a bit taller than herself. Something from the other woman’s hands fell to the ground, and Van dropped into a kneeling position to pick it up. It was a number of herbs, as well as a book that Van couldn’t read the title of. “Sorry– I, sorry.” She gathered the items, straightening up as she shoved them towards the girl, gaze fixed on her own hands and how they shook slightly. 

Like a Charm seemed like an absolutely kitschy sort of place – or maybe that was just Mahuika’s good views manifesting themselves. Though she knew that she was right at least to some degree, because some of the things in the shop were absolute junk. Still, she wasn’t going to say that out loud (at least not while she was in the shop), and maybe there was something of use here.

Correct, there were many somethings of use here, and she was totally shopping local, which made her a totally good person, right? Mahuika knew it did, and being in a place dedicated to the appreciation of magic was always good in her book. A place that showed just how better those with magic were. How much more deserving of… everything. 

She’d collected some herbs and a book, though those items had suddenly found themselves on the ground and someone else was in front of her and apologizing and Mahuika grinned, giving a shake of her head. “No worries, I was in your way. There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” If the girl wasn’t magic, then she’d have a few other things to work through, but she figured that she should just go ahead and try optimism for the heck of it, at least in this particular moment. “Are you okay? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt or anything like that.”

Van wasn’t sure that was right– she had definitely run into the girl. She resituated the items so that they didn’t fall out of the girl’s hands again and she wiped her palms against her sweatshirt. “What? No, I’m totally fine.” She offered a weak smile. She was trying hard not to look at the items that the girl had, mostly because that was rude, but she was never good at minding her own business. Ever. 

Finally, her gaze dragged down and she took note of the herbs, of the book. “You’re really going to buy that stuff?” Was she just some girl, looking to grow a garden, or was this something else? “I mean– sorry, that’s not the right question.” She felt heat rise to the back of her neck again. “I was just wondering. This is my first time here, and I don’t really know what I’m looking at, and honestly I just thought it was a place for tourists.” She kept her voice low as she spoke, as to not offend the clerk who was shelving items across the store. 

“Yeah, I am really going to buy all this.” Mahuika did her best to keep her expression light – curious – neutral. Any number of good things because pissing everyone she met off was simply not it. Even if a part of her wanted that to be it, but she’d learned through enough trial and error that being nice and pleasant got her what she wanted most of the time. That was – whenever she wasn’t getting what she wanted through her more preferred means of such eventualities. 

“I think some of it is for sure for tourists.” Mahuika nodded toward a deck of mass-produced tarot cards by the front. “But some of it’s legit. Because magic is legit.” She couldn’t help but scrunch up her face ever-so-slightly, ready to duck out or duck somewhere if the girl made fun of her. There was still a bitterness about the possibility of that, but Mahuika liked to avoid thinking about that whenever possible. Besides, she could deal with this girl if she did decide that Mahuika was full of it. “Do you want … help … knowing what you’re looking at?”

“You must be like, rich or something.” Van had no clue how much everything cost, there weren’t really any price tags for her to snoop on. “Sorry– or you’re just really good at managing your money? I mean, I’m like, not. At all.” She bit the inside of her cheek, sending an apologetic glance towards the brunette. God, she was terrible at communication. 

Van’s gaze swept over the goods stacked into the shelves, a minor chill running down her spine at the mention of magic, and how it was legit. It was weird, hearing other people discuss it so nonchalantly. She’d been hiding from it her whole life, and now, she was in public discussing– or rather, being talked at about magic. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat. “Um… I don’t… really know what I’m looking for? This is my first time in a place like this.” She looked at the girl with a pleading expression, as if begging her not to tell her this wasn’t her place. It had to be. Where else was there? 

“I don’t… I’m not familiar with like, any of this stuff.” How dangerous was it to come clean to somebody else who also believed in magic? Probably dangerous. Van forced her gaze to not linger on the brunette for too long. “What do you… recommend? What are your favorites?” Was she even going to be able to afford it? 

“I’m not.” Which was probably something too blunt and personal or whatever, but it was true. She was working at Bearcliff to make money, not because she was some fancy hotshot princess (well, she was one of those things) who wanted to know what normal life was like. Mahuika’s nose threatened to scrunch up into something resembling disgust but she flipped it around and grin. “No, o-m-g. I’m really not. I guess I’m good?” She shrugged. 

“Your first time?” Now Mahuika’s grin was far more real. Which was incredibly rare, but her smile nearly reached her eyes. “Let me help you! If that’s okay, because I’m a stranger?” She’d already decided that she was going to help, but the girl didn’t need to know that. The girl who she very much hoped was not some freakish magic witch-spellcaster murderer. But if she was, the Mahuika would just deal with that. She didn’t go around without physical items for self defense.

“Well, it depends on what you want to do with it. It’s not like you can get one crystal or one paper — and it’s also about laws, and what the person intends to do as their magic.” This girl better not up and try to steal her thunder, Mahuika thought. But she desperately wanted to know someone else magic, and this girl looked like she needed help, so it could be a double win. A new magic-user to know, and a charity case to work on. “Do you have any clue about any of that? Or we could just take a walk around? Just get comfortable vibing with the place?”

Van eyed the girl apprehensively as if willing some kind of mask to fall away from her face, to reveal her true intentions. But there was nothing– she seemed nice, seemed like she wanted to help in the way that Van so obviously needed. She tucked her balled up hands into her sweatshirt pockets and bit the inside of her cheek as she nodded, a little too pathetically for her own good. “I mean, like I’m old enough to know not to talk to strangers, but this is like, super public and you seem to know what you’re doing.” Van wasn’t really afraid of what might happen here, mostly because she could run away if needed. It wasn’t like they were secluded and alone. 

The stranger was discussing laws and about what she intended to do with her magic, and Van had to stop herself from telling the brunette that the only thing she’d done with her magic was kill people and melt tables. “I– no, I don’t know anything about… are there like, magic lawyers and stuff?” Was she being secretly watched by some kind of witch-y unity circle? Did they know everything bad she’d ever done? Was this girl here to make her pay? Van’s mind ran wild with the scenario and a small sweat broke out across the back of her neck as she considered the possibility. 

“To be fair, I think even some eight-year-olds have that sense.” Mahuika offered the girl a small smile. “But I get that – and you’re right. But this is public, and I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” Assuming, of course, that this girl was also a magic-user. Which was a bit of a gamble, but Mahuika liked to think she had a good read on people. Though there was little that she wouldn’t think she was good at. It just meant that she had really super solid self-confidence. Obviously. Some might have seen it as being overly self-important, but she didn’t, and that was clearly what mattered most.

“Also yes, I do know what I’m doing.” She grinned. “Oh, not laws like that. Laws like…” Mahuika paused, trying to think of a way to explain it without scaring her off. “There’s things that balance the world, and magic plays a role in that. I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’re not like, in trouble. Fuck the law, right? Human law, I mean. Not the magic law. That is actually important.”

I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Van had to keep herself from telling the girl that sure, that’s what somebody who wanted to hurt somebody would say, but because this wasn’t some low budget horror film, Van kept her mouth shut. She gave a small nod, not sure what else to say to that. Was she supposed to tell the brunette that she wouldn’t hurt her either? Was that more menacing than anything? Probably, right? 

Balance. Yeah, that was the word– that made more sense than the idea that there was some kind of witch institute teaching magic users how to be lawyers or something. “Oh… balance. Right, okay.” There was not really any balance within her own realm of experiences, she realized. Everything felt severely out of balance. “Yeah, fuck the law. Not… magic law, I guess.” Van kept her voice low, despite the fact that they were in a like minded shop. For all she knew, these could be fake people with fake things to say about magic. But then why would somebody who said she knew about magic be here? Was she fake, too?

Van’s mind ran away with the limitless possibilities, uncertainty clouding her expression. “So you… you know a lot about like, all of this?” It was so unfair, she thought. To have been taught nothing; to have existed in this without really knowing what was happening to her. Why had other people gotten lucky enough to know what they were? 

“See? We’re already on the same page!” Mahuika resisted wrapping her arm around the girl, because that wasn’t good to do without asking and the last thing she wanted right now was to scare the girl off. That wouldn’t do anybody any sort of good anything. Especially because for all that it was absolutely a terrible idea, she already found herself drawn in by the other (assumed) spellcaster. If she could get her hands on someone who was confused and new to all of this, and help them become what they deserved, then that would be all kinds of absolutely perfect.

“I do know a lot. I grew up knowing.” She forced herself to frown, just slightly. Except that the pity she felt for the girl was so real that it was almost tangible. Which was not great (the pity, the loss of time being with magic that the other girl clearly had), but at the same time, worked out absolutely perfectly, just as she’d intended for it to. Mahuika nodded. “I got lucky, but I can help you, if you want. I’d love to help. Teach you whatever I can. I’ll even buy us snacks or lunch or dinner or whatever – and I can be free pretty much whenever works for you. How does that sound?”

Van should have been jumping with joy at the sight of another magic user. Between this girl and the shopkeeper at the Sugar Pot, Van should’ve been expressing immense gratitude, but all she could feel was… well, she wasn’t sure what she felt, but it wasn’t really anything good. Van stared at the brunette, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I’m– I don’t know what you’re supposed to like, teach me.” She was recoiling from the help being extended to her again. Even when it came to Teddy, all Van had taken was the ring. The ring that sat heavy in her pocket, unused, because maybe she didn’t want– she wasn’t sure what she didn’t want, and she wasn’t sure what she did want. She took a small step back from the girl across from her, clearing her throat. “I’m– um, I don’t… really know what I’m supposed to be learning.” A small, nervous laugh escaped her as she clasped her hands together, eyes darting around the room. “I just sort of like, walked in here, you know?” This was all too real– the idea that somebody could help her– or a few somebody’s.. no, she couldn’t take up their time. “I’m sorry for wasting– um, your  time.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry. You’ll learn what you’re meant to learn, all in time. You walked in here and that means something, and I’ll be here for you, alright?” God, she needed to chill with the altruism. But, Mahuika supposed, it wasn’t so bad to be helpful when you were helping another spellcaster. At least this way this girl wouldn’t end up kidnapped or dead. Hopefully.

“We’ll figure it out. But how about I take you out for tea and coffee, or ice cream, or anything you want, first? Also, I’ll admit,” and now this part might’ve been a bit of a lie, “I’ve really been wanting friends, and you seem like you know what you’re doing. So maybe we can help each other? I’ll help you even if you don’t want to be my friend though. This isn’t conditional.” Mahuika hoped that was abundantly clear. “Let me just go and check out first.” She turned on her heel, before adding, “I’m Mahuika by the way. You seem like you’re going to be a lot of fun.”

[ariadnewhitlock]

Felix and Ariadne meet Fluffy! || Felix & Ariadne

TIMING: Before The Orange. LOCATION: A forest. SUMMARY: Felix and Ariadne run into a Kerashag. They react to it in the most Them way possible. TRIGGER WARNING: None.

There were times, even now, where the woods felt more like home than the apartment they’d lived in for years. It was funny, in a way; Felix hadn’t enjoyed their time living in the cabin with their father and siblings, but they were nostalgic for it all the same. It was so much easier to miss things once you’d lost them, he supposed, so much easier to long for something once it was gone. Walking through the woods now, they felt that all-too familiar ache in their chest. They half expected to run into their father, a stuttering hint of fear filling them at the thought. Or maybe they’d find one of their siblings. Or… no one at all.

Or something else.

They heard it first. The low, strange call of ‘oooom oooom’ that echoed through the trees. And then, desperate footfalls of someone running. That was just about all the warning they were given before someone collided with them in a tangle of limbs and messy blonde hair. Felix blinked from his spot in the leaves, looking up at the girl who’d collided with him. She looked… distressed, to say the least. “Are you —” They were interrupted by another, much closer cry of ‘oooom oooom.’  “ — okay?”

—

It was cold, but Ariadne supposed that wasn’t supposed to bother her. It didn’t really bother her, since she herself was freezing cold most of the time. Still, it felt wrong to go out in winter without a coat, and so she still kept one on. If nothing else, pulling it around herself was a good use of her nervous energy and need to fidget around. It was excusable, and she could pass it off as something wholly human rather than something monstrous. (She wasn’t a monster — or she tried to tell herself as much, but it was hard, and she still thought back to that stupid van).

There was a weird sound in the forest today.

And not weird in the way that animals scurrying away from her was weird, but like, weird weird. Some sort of echo, and Ariadne decided that she wasn’t too sure she was much of a fan of the echoing. Not to offend the echo, or anything, but it just wasn’t totally her vibe. Which was fine, right? Not everything had to be her vibe. She could not vibe with some things! Crash – except that her hyperfocus on whether or not it was morally acceptable to not vibe sometimes caused her to run straight into someone. “I – yeah.” Except the echo-y sound was still there. “I’m – are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t – wasn’t – looking where I was going as much as I should’ve been.”

—

She seemed a little distressed, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. The sound wasn’t quite skyquake loud, but it was definitely echoing in a way that seemed to shake the trees. And that probably wasn’t good, was it? Most things that made sounds that loud weren’t really things you wanted to run into in the woods on your own, Felix thought. Especially not when accompanied by thunderous footsteps that seemed to imply the thing in question was big. There were a lot of monsters in this town, and Felix had met too many of them already. They weren’t keen on meeting more.

But they also weren’t keen on forgetting their manners. They stood, offering a hand to the girl who had fallen with them. “Oh, no! I mean, I wasn’t watching where I was going, either. It was probably my fault, mostly. I’m clumsy.” It was something Leo used to chastise them for often, and Felix was fairly certain that there was some truth behind it. They were clumsy, and that was why they did things like run into girls in the forest while surrounded by loud noises. “Um, do you want — Do you think we should go? I can’t tell which direction that sound is coming from, but I think we should go in… the opposite direction.”

—

“I’m clumsier. I do ballet, you’d think I’d be better at that sort of thing.” Ariadne made a face. “Please, don’t apologize, you really don’t have to.” It made her feel uneasy, when people apologized too much to her. Or apologized at all, really.

“Yes. We should go in the opposite direction.” Ariadne nodded. “I don’t – I can’t tell what the opposite direction is, exactly, but we should go in it, whatever it is.” Because she didn’t want to deal with whatever was happening, but she was not about to leave someone, even a stranger, because what if they got hurt? What if something happened and she could’ve helped prevent it but didn’t because she was a wimp. 

She gestured away from where they stood. “We could – try – to go there?” Hopefully, it couldn’t hurt, even if Ariadne was way off base with her judgment of how to handle tricky situations (which, in all honesty, she probably was, but she’d have plenty of time to stew in those thoughts later. Right now she needed to focus on the person she was with. Make sure they were okay.)

“What do you think?”

—

“Oh, hey, that’s really cool! Ballet, I mean. I, uh, I always thought it looked fun.” They’d begged their mother to let them do it once, but she’d worried that if they were too nimble on their feet, it might attract the wrong sort of attention. So much of Felix’s life, even in the beginning, was built up out of fear. “I’m so—” They cut themself off before they could apologize for apologizing, wincing just a little at their own awkwardness. Yikes.

At least they were on the same page about plans. Opposite direction, check. Felix shifted their inner ear enough to get a better grasp on the sound and where it was coming from, tilting their head to the side. It seemed to be coming from the direction the girl had run from and a little to the right. 

Gesturing in that direction, he nodded. “It’s coming from that way,” they announced. “So, um, this way? Would be good.” Which was the same direction she’d gestured towards so, really, Felix’s input was a little useless. “Uh, probably fast! I think we should go fast. Is fast okay with you?”

—

“It’s a lot of work, but it’s fun too, yeah.” It was something that brought a certain calm to Ariadne, though she knew that wasn’t the case for everybody. Not even everyone who’d been in her studio, and she knew she shouldn’t take the fact that she felt at ease with it all for granted.

“Yes, I think so too. Going that way, I mean. This way. Your way!” She wanted to kick herself in the shin for her awkwardness, though through some force of sheer luck and grace of whomever, Felix was chill about it. Ariande wasn’t sure that she had the words to thank them enough.

She nodded. “Fast is for sure okay with me. We should just, like, get away from this all, right?”

—

She didn’t ask how they knew where the sound was coming from, and Felix was glad for that. The panic clawing at their chest would have made it difficult to answer, and they didn’t think they needed to be wasting time right now. They had to make a break for it, and quickly. With this stranger in tow, ideally; they didn’t like the idea of leaving her on her own, even if some part of them seemed to think that was the best idea. (They didn’t know where that came from; they felt the strangest urge to run from this girl just as much as the sounds coming from the woods. It didn’t make a lot of sense to them.)

“Fast!” They agreed. “Yeah! Um, I think — On the count of three? Run as fast as you can. That way! One… two… three!” As soon as the last word was out of their mouth, they were sprinting, hoping that the young woman would keep up.

—

They seemed vaguely jumpy around her, but Ariadne figured maybe she was projecting. Which she did a lot, especially around strangers, and so maybe that was happening. She was going to just assume that, because she didn’t want to be an added issue on top of whatever the heck else was going on.

“Fast is good.” She agreed, repeating herself again. But that seemed to flow with them, and they didn’t seem like they were about to yell at her and judge her for it, so that was all good. “Uh-huh, three.” Ariadne readied herself, taking off half a second after they had. Once they stopped, a good ways away, she did too. “You don’t think something back there was hurt, do you?” It was probably not the greatest of ways to think, survival-wise, but what if the sounds had meant something was in pain?

—

A hint of guilt stabbed through them at her question. Felix hadn’t even considered that something might have been hurt, that something might need their help. They’d been so caught up in the strange, unsettling feeling churning in their gut, in the jaguar’s unexplained unease. What did it say about them that they needed to be reminded, in this moment, that they weren’t the only thing out there? 

Glancing back in the direction they’d just come from, Felix hesitated, bouncing uncertainly on their heels. “I don’t — Maybe. Maybe we should — I mean, I could go back and check. To make sure. You don’t — You don’t have to come or anything, it could just, you know, uh, just be me.” They could handle themself if it was something dangerous, couldn’t they? They handled themself against dangerous things every night at work, even if they hated themself for it in the morning.

—

“I could go back and check. I don’t want you to have to go just by yourself.” Especially because she’d suggested it. She didn’t need credit for it or anything but if something bad did happen, then maybe the other person wouldn’t end up being hurt.

“You shouldn’t have to go back by yourself.” Ariadne corrected herself. Trying to sound more firm and decisive, though she wasn’t sure how much she felt either of those feelings, but it didn’t hurt to fake it, did it? Not when it was faking something that would hopefully make someone else feel better. “Should we – I don’t want you to get hurt, but I don’t – know much about what that sound might be and so I’m afraid I have no real idea about stuff.”

Shuffling her feet, she turned around. “Or should we wait here?”

—

“It — I mean, it would be okay,” Felix insisted. Between the two of them, they thought, it probably made more sense for Felix to be the one to go back. After all, they had experience fighting; they weren’t sure the same could be said for the young woman before them now. If things got really bad, they could just shift and run, too. That was a good plan, right?

Except… she seemed almost upset at the idea of Felix going back alone. Her tone was decisive and firm, and Felix felt compelled to listen. They shifted their weight, uncertain. They didn’t want to upset their new friend by pushing too hard, but they didn’t want to leave anyone to be hurt, either. “I, um… I probably wouldn’t get hurt. I mean, not like ‘I’m invincible’ or anything, just — I’m pretty good at not getting hurt? I can, uh, move pretty fast, when I want to move fast. I wouldn’t want you to risk, uh, you know, getting hurt. But I think — I think I want to check. To make sure.”

—

“I don’t think or know if it would! I’m not trying to be rude, I believe you’re good at stuff, but I just don’t … people shouldn’t have to face bad stuff by themselves, if possible. That’s just… it.” Ariadne was positive she wasn’t making any real or significant sort of sense, but it was something, and the other person was listening to her which felt really nice and validating.

“I want to check too.” She nodded, firm as she could manage. “I mean, I might get hurt, but if there’s two of us we can look out for each other, and there’s less likelihood we’ll get hurt, like, statistically speaking. Or whatever.” Her mom talked about statistics in her classes sometimes and so it seemed like the right sort of thing to say. “We can go and look and check and then we can go, once we know it’s not hurt or anything.”

—

Felix wasn’t sure any stranger had ever held that kind of sentiment towards them before. Sure, they had friends who would insist that they shouldn’t have to go at things alone, but this? Most of their experience with strangers involved them cheering in the stands as someone beat Felix bloody, or as they hurt someone else. This was new. And… welcomed, really. “That’s… really nice of you.” They weren’t sure what else to say. No words could really encapture the warmth they were feeling at the simple sentiment. 

“We can check together,” they agreed with a small smile. “Two heads are better than one, right? And we definitely stand a better chance together. We can watch each other’s backs, and make sure nobody is hurt. Not even the, uh, screaming woods creature thing.” 

—

They were calling her nice and she wanted to vehemently shake her head and tell them that they should save that word for someone else, someone who did all their actions purely and kindly. Someone like Wynne. She wasn’t sure if she could be considered nice when she was the reason so many people had a hard time sleeping. Still, it was genuine, and it made Ariadne feel good – really good, even. “Thanks. I mean it! I try to not lie, ‘cause it’s mean to lie, and you’re really good and nice and smart.” She meant every word.

“Yeah, I agree. We can keep each other safe and yeah – ‘cause we don’t want to hurt the screaming thing. If it tries to eat one of us we might have to tell it firmly ‘no’ but hopefully we won’t even have to do that!” She turned, started walking back toward where the sound had come from. “Let’s… see what’s up?”

—

Not many people thought Felix was smart. Nice, maybe — they tried to be kind when they could, as often as they could — but not smart. It was something Leo often reminded them of with a scoff, eager to point out their many intellectual failings. They ducked their head as Ariadne insisted upon the contrary, called them smart like she believed it and insisted that she wouldn’t lie. They thought it would be rude to tell her she was wrong, so they only nodded. Maybe it was okay to let her think they were smart, even if they knew they weren’t.

“Right, yeah, definitely! But, um — I mean, if it tries to eat you, I — I’d be okay with doing more than telling it no.” Felix was gentle, but they had spent most of their formative years living in the woods. They knew it was necessary to hurt animals sometimes when it was to ensure your own safety, and they were definitely okay doing it to ensure Ariadne’s safety. It just wasn’t their first instinct. That was all. “But, yeah! Let’s see what’s up!”

—

“Okay, that’s fine, but I still don’t want you to get hurt. But I also don’t want either of us to get eaten.” Ariadne wasn’t sure if she’d even taste good, given the whole dead thing and all, but that wasn’t something she wanted to focus on and wasn’t something she was going to voice to Felix, either. Because that would probably only freak them out. Which she absolutely in no way wanted.

She followed them back to where they’d both stood before. “Hello?” She called out. “Are you very hurt?” She wasn’t sure what else to ask, and hoped that Felix would be better at this than she would be, because Ariadne knew very well that she wasn’t even half of an expert on any of this.

—

“I won’t get hurt!” They were pretty confident in their ability to win a fight, even if fighting wasn’t a thing they enjoyed. Wildcat was a formidable opponent in the ring, one of the Grit Pit’s best fighters. And while Felix might have hated that aspect of their life, they could recognize that it was a thing they were good at. They could use it to their advantage when they had to, could fight for people who might not be able to fight for themselves. (Maybe that was a bad assumption to make about Ariadne, but… she didn’t exactly seem eager to stand up for herself here.) 

Slowly, the pair made their way back to where they’d stood before. Ariadne called out, but the strange creature they’d heard earlier didn’t seem to be where they’d left it. The echo of the girl’s voice was the only response she received to her question, and Felix shifted their weight. They could shift more than that, they thought, could try to sniff or listen, but… “Maybe it ran away? Which means it must not have been hurt, right?”

—

“Okay! If you’re sure!” They sounded sure, and she wanted to make sure that they were sure. But they weren’t the sort of person who would lie, and so it was all good. It was just her nerves talking, undoubtedly. She might have been a literal nightmare, but she was fairly certain she’d still suck at actual hand-to-hand combat.

Felix was super duper logical. “That makes sense. If it didn’t call back, it probably ran away.” Or it was hurt and dead. Which was not a road she wanted to go down. “So then it’s probably okay.” It would have to be, she nodded to herself. “Should we maybe go get ice cream or something and then come back for one more check?”

—

The uncertain panic still thrummed in their chest, but they were quick to push it — and the jaguar — down away from the surface. They offered Ariadne a firm smile and a nod. Yes, they were sure. They were never very sure of anything, but they were sure they didn’t want Ariadne to be hurt. That was one thing they could easily understand to be true.

And they were similarly sure that whatever had been chasing her before was gone now. It was a good thing, they thought. Felix was plenty capable of fighting, but they didn’t really want to. It was always a nice day when it wasn’t a necessary thing… nicer still when they could get ice cream instead. Offering Ariadne another smile, they nodded. “Ice cream sounds great.” And another check after… just to be sure.

[vanishingreyes]

Honk! [in a menacing tone] || Felix & Xóchitl

TIMING: Before the Boiler Room and Before Ireland. LOCATION: The Common. SUMMARY: Felix and Xóchitl run itno a weird duck. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

They thought it would be relaxing. A nice, quiet day sitting by the water. They’d even brought a book along with them! It was self care, or something. On a rare day where they weren’t expected at the Grit Pit that night, they thought it might feel nice to just… sit by the water and feel the lack of obligations.

Except there was some weird duck crawling out of the lake now, and Felix didn’t think it looked very friendly. 

Uncertainly, the balam scrambled to their feet, taking a few hesitant steps away from the water. They would not run away from a duck. They would not. But they kind of wanted to. They kind of really, really wanted to. They took another step backwards, trying not to draw attention to themself, but that plan kind of backfired when the whole ‘walking backwards without looking’ method of escape ended in predictable failure. Felix tripped over someone who’d been seated behind him, tumbling down into the grass.

Blinking, he looked up at the person who’d unintentionally tripped him. “Sorry,” he said. “There was — That duck is — It’s weird. I think maybe it’s a swan, and I heard swans are mean, so —” The maybe-swan duck waddled towards the pair, letting out a loud honk. 

— 

The water was nice. It was calm, and Xóchitl didn’t have to think too much about much of anything. Which, as much as she liked thinking, she had to admit it was a nice thing to have a break from, even if it was physiologically impossible to entirely turn off one’s ability to think.

She’d enjoyed the Common and Public Garden in Boston, and Prospect and Central Park in New York, but at neither had she ever ever seen a bird that looked quite like the one that was leaving the lake now. Some exceptionally strange swan or something – and, much like with actual swans, Xóchitl found that she wanted nothing to do with them.

To make matters… whatever version of more something than they already were, someone tripped over her and Xóchitl found herself looking up at them. “It looks like a weird swan or duck. No offense to animals, but I’m not a fan of whatever that is.” She hopped up on her feet, taking a very abrupt step back as the bird let out a honk. “I’m Xóchitl, by the way. Have you ever seen a swan like this before? I haven’t.”

— 

The swan-duck-thing was a little more than ten feet from where they stood, but it looked like it probably intended to come closer. And Felix didn’t really think they wanted that. Not for themself, and not for the woman — Xóchitl — who they’d all but run into, either.

“Oh, hi,” they greeted, waving a hand awkwardly as they took another step back, pulling Xóchitl with them gently. “I’m Felix. And, uh, I’ve definitely never seen a swan like that before. Or a duck. Maybe it’s a goose? I think geese are supposed to be mean, and it looks pretty —”

The bird flapped its wings, propelling itself forward again. Closer now, it let out another deafening honk, and — Felix couldn’t move. They blinked, eyes darting over to Xóchitl. Was this a them thing, or had that bird actually done something?

—

“It does look pretty mean, if you ask me.” Which, you know, they hadn’t, but Xóchitl couldn’t help herself. 

The honk it let out made her nearly jump, for a moment, which was weird, because even the most annoying of geese-duck-swans she’d run into hadn’t ever made her jumpy. Only full of dislike, and maybe a swan had freaked her out when she was little, but this felt different.

Wrong, almost.

“Should we – move away from it?” Xóchitl wasn’t really sure what this situation called for, but leaving seemed like a good idea. Leaving was easy.

—

“It does,” Felix agreed solemnly. The goose looked angry, and angry geese were probably dangerous. The jaguar within them took some interest, probably because this was a bird and he was a cat and there were obvious connections to be made there.

Or maybe because the honk really spooked Felix, and the jaguar always thought that meant it was his cue to jump in. Felix quickly stifled the desire to shift and eat the bird, because the jaguar was kind of a dick and would probably eat Xóchitl, too, which wasn’t something they wanted.

“We should move,” Felix agreed, only… they couldn’t. It was like they were frozen in place, like their legs weren’t listening to the commands their brain was sending to them. “We should really move.”

—

“We should move, yeah.” Xóchitl echoed their words, though she found herself unable to actually take an action on said words. Which was strange, because she was a very capable person who was almost always easily able to take action on what she wanted to.

“We need to move.” She tried to move again. “I – you can go first.” Maybe they’d move, and that would kickstart her into being able to actually move, because she couldn’t feel herself going anywhere any time soon.

Xóchitl looked back between the goose-thing and her companion. “Right? You – go ahead, and I’ll follow you.”

—

“Okay,” Felix agreed, hoping that her words would… spark something. Force the signals in his brain to send to his legs, something. But when they tried to move again, they found themself just as stuck as they had been before. 

They stood, willing themself to move for a moment longer. There was a beat. And then: “Actually, I think you should go first. Yeah. That way if it attacks, I’ll be able to fight it off. Because I’m, uh — I’m a really good fighter. So. Yeah! You go first, and I’ll watch your back.”

—

They wanted her to go first, and Xóchitl still couldn’t move. And while she wasn’t entirely opposed to lying, there was only so much back and forth that she could handle, especially given that she was feeling far too stressed out by this goose for anything to be made sense of.

“I can’t move.” She finally admitted to them. “I – I’m not lying.” Even though she would lie, sometimes, but not about this. Not to make fun of someone. “Can you? Because I’d really like to not be here. Not – you’re great, but the goose? Not so much.”

—

It was almost a relief, hearing that they weren’t the only one frozen in place. Felix often went through a cycle of fight, flight, freeze, fawn when in a difficult position, and while freeze wasn’t their most common reaction, it did still happen from time to time and was certainly among their least favorite responses. So… it was good that it wasn’t happening now.

But not really good. Really good would have been being able to move and escape. Or even… fight the goose. Fawning would be useless here, but probably still better than this. Whatever was happening, it was evidently some physical thing. So… probably not a normal goose. Great. This was fine.

“I can’t move either,” Felix admitted, a little sheepish. “I believe you! That you’re not lying. I’d also like to get out of here. Because of the goose! Not because of you.” This was just awesome.

—

“Well, I’d be alarmed if anyone wanted to leave somewhere on account of me.” Except that Xóchitl couldn’t quite get herself to laugh about that. Mostly because it wasn’t a laughing situation, as much as she tried to lighten the situation with some vague branch of flirting.

Mostly because that was the best way she knew how to diffuse something, but that might not work right now. Especially because there was no way in hell she was going to flirt with a goose. The goose probably wouldn’t understand human languages anyways, so trying to even reason with it would be stupid and pointless.

“How exactly are we supposed to… find a way to move?” Xóchitl paused a moment before adding, “I also don’t want to move because of you. I want to leave because of that rather superbly horrid goose.”

—

“Yeah, no, you're great,” they reassured her. Any flirting, predictably, went over their head. Felix spent a long time being made to feel as though they should consider themself lucky that anyone wanted them at all. The idea of a stranger flirting with them felt a little preposterous. “The goose is less great. I'm not much of a goose fan. Zero out of ten on the goose, specifically.”

They were babbling. Going on and on, a little hysterically, about things that didn't much matter. It filled the silence, at least, and that was something.

But it didn't provide them with anything resembling an answer. 

It was jarring, having such little control. Sure, Felix lost control when the jaguar took his turn with their shared body, but it wasn't like this. This was something new, something unheard of, something terrifying. “I — I don't know. I don't know what we're supposed to do.”

—

“Never was a goose fan, and I’m becoming less and less of one with each passing moment.” They were a kind person, and they also certainly didn’t deserve to be attacked by a more aggressive than average goose. Not that there were many people who Xóchitl would’ve said did deserve to be attacked, there was something about the individual in front of her that screamed really super doesn’t deserve this more than for the average person.

Still, that didn’t solve the problem of the goose.

“And we can’t run, we’ve deduced that, so…” Xóchitl let her words trail off. “If we throw something at it? Well, not at it at it, but to distract it? Like I do with my dog for her own enjoyment. Do we think there’s any hope of that helping us out? Working in our favor?”

—

“Yeah, geese freak me out a little. Like, their teeth.” Felix remembered the first time they’d come upon the knowledge that geese had teeth. One of their siblings had so kindly shared a photo with them, and they’d been absolutely scarred for life as a result. They were pretty sure this goose, with its loud honks and its murderous eyes, had teeth that they really didn’t want to see.

They listened to the plan placed in front of them, nodding their head thoughtfully. “Oh! Yeah. Yeah, throwing something might help. Um, what do you have in your pockets? I’ve got…” They trailed off, digging a hand into their jeans. “A piece of linty cheese… a receipt… a couple nickels…”

—

“Yep. Hate that they have teeth.” Xóchitl winced. They were already a bird that she didn’t especially (or at all) enjoy, and to add teeth on top of all that was just too much. So to have a goose that was too big, wouldn’t leave them alone, and had teeth? Absolutely not how she wanted to spend her day.

“I mean, I have my phone and my keys. Not going to throw either of those, but I also have, well, admittedly, some treats for my dog…” which Xóchitl also didn’t especially want to waste, but if it got this stupid goddamn goose away, then it would be more than worthwhile. “Though the nickels might also work. Geese like shiny things… probably? Right?”

—

So their options were dog treats or nickels? Not ideal, but… maybe they could work with that. Felix fished the nickels from their pockets, squinting at them carefully. “Let’s start with the nickels,” he decided. “If those don’t work, then maybe we do the dog treats?” There weren’t a lot of options here, but that seemed like the best plan. 

Holding the nickel tightly, he closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” they murmured. Then, a little louder: “Okay! I’m going to throw it towards that way, away from both of us.” They motioned to their right, where some weeds were growing high enough that they hoped it would distract the bird. “Are you ready? I think — if it runs away, we move as soon as we feel like we can. And run in the opposite direction.”

—

“I appreciate your thoughts,” Xóchitl nodded, “because I was at a loss for which to start with.” That much was honest, because they deserved that. They seemed nice and they also seemed clueless, which certainly wasn’t the kindest thing to think, but so long as she kept it to herself she figured it was okay. At least relatively speaking.

She glanced to where he was pointing, before refocusing. “Yeah, that sounds good – and yes, I am ready.” Xóchitl planted the toe of her shoe against the ground. Waiting for them to throw it. “But let’s run together, just so we don’t get separated, just in case the goose-thing decides it doesn’t want to go after a nickel. Make sense?” She tensed her body. “Ready whenever you are.”

—

“Thanks,” Felix replied, smiling a little in spite of the situation. It was nice to be appreciated, to be told that their ideas weren’t terrible. They just hoped it was true. In a situation like this one, they weren’t sure they could afford to go with any bad ideas. The goose seemed fairly harmless — it was a goose, after all — but they knew better than to underestimate anything in Wicked’s Rest.

When Xóchitl confirmed she was ready, Felix took a deep breath. “Together,” he agreed. Then, they closed their eyes. “One… two… three!” As hard as he could, Felix tossed the coin. Thankfully, the goose did seem interested in it. It turned towards the gleaming metal, and after a moment, the feeling returned to Felix’s legs. “Come on!” They shouted, reaching out to grab Xóchitl by the shoulder and tugging her in the opposite direction.

—

“Of course!” Xóchitl responded, trying to make herself seem as non-threatening as possible. She didn’t consider herself super threatening in general, but she figured someone like Felix probably could do with an extra dose of ‘not being threatening’, as it were.

She readily followed them, and even once they weren’t that far away, the grating and honking sounds seemed to die down. “It – does it sound better to you, too, or am I just being way too optimistic?” Xóchitl didn’t think she was, but she also hadn’t ever seen a breed of goose like that before. So extra checking was, in fact, needed for this case.

—

It did sound better, though Felix wasn’t the best person to ask if you were worried you were being too optimistic. Their habit of looking at the glass as half full had certainly gotten them into trouble in the past, but… this time was probably different, right? The honking didn’t sound quite so honking anymore, so maybe they were in the clear.

The fact that they were able to move seemed to add to that theory, and they already felt better with some distance between them and the goose. Their shoulders slumped in quiet relief, and they nodded their head. “It sounds better,” they agreed, “but I think we should get out of here. Um, like, as far away as possible. Right? So the goose doesn’t chase us.”

—

“Yeah, don’t want to deal with being chased by… that.” She let her voice trail off. Because that wasn’t how things worked and absolutely wasn’t the way that she planned to spend her day. Plus, agreeing with the other person seemed to be the way to go, given how nervous they seemed. Xóchitl didn’t want to further contribute to what was likely already a fairly intense case of anxiety. That wasn’t going to help either of them whatsoever. 

“Do you have a car? I can drive you to wherever you need to be, just so our… guest doesn’t cause you any further trouble.” Again, she didn’t know what this goose thing was but she did know that she didn’t want to be around it and didn’t want her companion to suffer any more than they already were.

—

“I have a truck!” Felix replied excitedly, trying to reel themself in, to make their voice quiet enough that the creature before them wouldn’t hear it and decide to follow. “But, um, I parked a ways away, so maybe you can give me a ride to it? And I can buy you lunch!” They felt like they owed her. “What do you say?”

—

“I’d be happy to give you a ride, of course.” Xóchitl smiled at Felix. They certainly were excitable, and though she’d hazard a guess that a good part of it came from nerves, there was also something incredibly charming about how excited they could get. “You don’t have to buy me lunch, I’d do this just because, but I am hungry. What were you craving?”

—

Relief flooded them as Xóchitl promised them a ride and agreed to the lunch. After everything, Felix was pretty hungry themself. “There’s a great taco truck that parks near the edge of the park. Want to go there?” Anxiety still thrummed in their chest but, with the goose behind them and the car ahead of them, it was fading back down to manageable levels. All in all, they thought, this wasn’t the worst end to a day.

[xdarkhowlx]

Raiju, where the hell you been, loca?

TIMING: Shortly after the cemetery incident with Van and Nora. LOCATION: Midnight Drive-In PARTIES: @xdarkhowlx and @bountyhaunter SUMMARY: Kyle and Daiyu try to enjoy their movie. They're interrupted by a real-life Pokémon. CONTENT WARNING: gun use

The mere idea of a Twilight marathon was enough to gain Kyle’s attention. The viewing being at Midnight Drive-in only piqued his interest further. An emo cinema icon, in an iconic format. What more could he ask for? Of course, he had to be parked behind the one truck to block his view. The owner of the truck sat atop the vehicle instead of inside, which put her at just the right height to obscure his view. At first, he decided not to say anything. He figured out quickly that if he leaned out his window a little, and craned his neck, he could see much better. This was fine for a while, but his favorite scene was approaching and he was beginning to get a crick in his neck. He debated just moving his car, but that seemed inconvenient at best, not to mention inconsiderate. He weighed his options briefly, before deciding he had no choice but to ask the truck owner to move. 

With a drawn out sigh, Kyle stepped out of his Jeep and approached the truck parked in front of him. “Hey,” he called, trying not to interrupt the movie for anyone. “Could you maybe actually get off of your truck? I can’t really see past you, and the baseball scene is coming up.” A stranger on their truck would not ruin the scene for him. 

—

Maybe it was sad, how big an accomplishment this was to Daiyu. But she’d never done something like this — a neighborhood initiative. Most of the time her ‘initiatives’ involved causing a ruckus and accidentally lighting a trash can. Besides, she never tended to tie herself to places and so to organize something like this rather than just watch the bad movies at home was something. But it had been a funny idea that had snowballed into something real and now here she was, sitting on top of her truck cross-legged. She wasn’t doing it to be rude — she just wasn’t thinking. 

So when someone approached her about it and she was pulled out of her focus on the movie, she felt the urge to apologize and then, immediately after it, the inner demand that she shouldn’t. “Can’t see it well through my window, though,” she said simply, giving him a glance before looking up again. In the distance the sky rumbled. Whether it was another quake, the movie’s audio being very good or a storm coming, she didn’t know, but it barely mattered.  Something tugged in her stomach and she wondered what it was – this guy, or one of the other people surrounding them. She couldn’t go a day without having something in her body go off, though, so she tried to ignore it. She was here for the movie, not for her hunting instincts. Daiyu sighed, straightening her legs and sliding down her window onto the hood of her car. The window held, much to her relief. (She had wanted to look cool and totally had.) “There. Better? Don’t wanna ruin your Supermassive Black Hole needledrop.”

—

Can’t see it well through my window, was a flimsy excuse in Kyle’s eyes. He frowned. “Better clean your windows, bestie,” he said. His ears pricked at the sound of thunder. He hoped it wouldn’t be a storm. His dad complained when he came home smelling like wet dog. On the other hand, that would make for a wicked cool backdrop for the rest of the flick. 

Kyle’s smile returned at the Supermassive Black Hole comment. “Hey,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “You can’t tell me it’s not the most iconic scene in the first movie.” He shrugged, looking from the stranger to the screen. “Alice and Jasper in the baseball scene were a crucial part of my bisexual awakening.” Looking back to the stranger, something clicked for Kyle. “Hey, aren’t you the one who, like, organized all this?” In the distance, thunder rumbled again. Maybe that background storm would pop off after all.

—

She glared at the other and his unwarranted advice. “Clean your own windows,” she retorted, which made no sense but was still a very good comeback. Better than pointing out that she was in the forest a lot and that keeping her windows clean was a sisyphean task. She didn’t know what the word sisyphean meant, anyway. 

Daiyu let out a chuckle. Even if this person had come to complain, he made a good point. “It absolutely is. Banger soundtrack, Alice being an icon, et cetera. I’m not going to lie, I know Vic is a villain and all but she was a crucial part in my gay awakening.” She shot a look at the screen, where Esme was talking to Bella. It wasn’t very important. “Hell yeah I am. I also organized the thunder, actually. Talked to the weather gods and everything to make it fit the mood.” She hadn’t, but she liked having bragging rights. As if on cue, there was a flash of lightning. Two seconds, and then a roar of thunder. “You’re welcome.”

—

Oh, so it was like that. “My windows are clean,” Kyle contested with a grand gesture at his clean, albeit cracked, windshield. “I just can’t see through people on top of trucks.” He wasn’t actually upset, mostly inconvenienced. His car didn’t have the height benefit of a truck. If he sat on top of his car, he figured he probably still wouldn’t be tall enough to see.

“You’re into gingers?” he said, sounding critical. After a moment’s pause, he nodded in approval. “Good taste.” The well timed thunder sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. “Wow, impressive.” He gazed up at the sky, half expecting the rain to start, too. “You’ll have to show me your raindance, eh? Teach me what the weather taught you.” Glancing back at his car, Kyle started to excuse himself back to the movie, but he was drowned out by another rip of thunder. He could almost feel it in his chest. Another flash of lightning arched across the sky and connected with the ground somewhere in the distance. He could almost see where it flickered just beyond the farthest cars from where they stood. It was too close for comfort. Kyle let out a whoop. “Your storm is shaping up to be something.”

—

“Mine are clean too,” she retorted easily. She was very good at these kinds of endless exchanges, the back and forth, the yes-no, did not-did too’s of the world. Spending a youth with two older siblings did do that to a person. “Well, you should get x-ray vision, then. Next time, that is. I’m down now.”

Daiyu wondered if he’d slam her for liking the villain as he critiqued her. Logically, she should despise Victoria the most — she was the kind of vampire that required putting down by slayer or even a skilled ranger. But she’d liked her, because it was all nonsense. “Yeah,” she said, nodding fervently. “I’m known for my amazing taste, you should follow me o—” Her self promotion was cut in half as the lightning crashed through the sky again. She looked up, impressed at what the sky was capable of. “Damn.” She was a little impressed with herself before remembering she hadn’t actually caused the storm. 

As her eyes traveled from the sky to the screen something caught her eye. It was lightning, but not quite in the way lightning tended to travel. It was like a ball passing past the treeline behind the screen. Another roar of thunder crashed through the sky and this time there were no flashes of light in the sky — just the creature. “Shit.” Daiyu glared at the creature, then rolled off her truck and rushed to her passenger seat door and swung it over. She eyed the other person from the other side. “Hey, yo — you should get the fuck out of here.” She pointed up. “Weather. Bad.”

___

“Then why— y’know what? Forget it. Thanks for moving.” Kyle wanted to argue back, but there was no real point to it. He could already tell he was being wound up just to end up chasing his tail. Metaphorically, of course. “I’ll work on being a little more Clark Kent and a little less Lois.”

Kyle followed the stranger’s gaze up toward the sky as the first couple notes of Supermassive Black Hole began. Shit, he was gonna miss it anyway. “Woo, good job on that timing,” he said, cracking a smile and taking a few steps back. But the mood had changed suddenly. The stranger was distracted. Her focus was elsewhere. Again, Kyle tried to figure out where she was looking. He could see that flickering lightning low at the ground again, but this time it was closer. As he was urged to leave, he didn’t look away from it. The lightning seemed to bend around something; it was vaguely animal shaped, and coming closer. 

“What the hell?” he thought aloud. He looked between the electrified animal and his new acquaintance. She looked tense, maybe even a little worried. “What is that? Is that like—like a generator? A power box? Should I call the fire department? I mean, I can—“ He was cut off by another rip of thunder, with no accompanying lightning. The beast seemed to light up brighter at that and Kyle stepped around the truck to stand beside the other movie goer. “This might be outside of the fire department’s jurisdiction,” he posited.

—

Once, a long time ago, Daiyu had asked her father if she’d been named after raiju. He’d not liked the question, as it was his late wife who’d chosen their youngest name. Besides, the idea that a ranger’s name could be inspired by a beast was absolutely unacceptable, and he’d made that very clear. That hadn’t stopped her brother from calling her one, especially when she was throwing a tantrum. Storm’s coming!, he’d yell, mimicking the sound of thunder.

But whatever kinship she felt with the beasts was ignored in the face of the situation at hand. There was a storm. There were multiple people sitting in metal cars that would become death traps if touched by the raiju. There was the baseball scene still playing, too — and she couldn’t even give it her full attention. She pulled a crossbow from under the passenger seat, grabbing a set of bolts with her other hand. The human – was he human? – was talking and Daiyu popped her head up, staring at him.

She wasn’t very good at this. “Do not call them,” she said. A firetruck was an even bigger death trap. Water would make everything worse. She’d gotten electrocuted by a raiju before – years and years ago – and she didn't recommend it. “You need to – fuck!” She cursed, realizing the impossible way the cars were parked as she glanced around. Daiyu felt frustration rise, the white hot anger that so often cradled her but also sometimes rendered her useless. She could not give into it now, with all these people. (Maybe the person in the woods was right, maybe she was a protector – or wanted to be, anyway.) 

She glanced at the screen, where Edward was running through the forest. The raiju seemed bothered by the noises. Dread rose. She threw a look at the other person. “We need to take it out. I need to – you should —” She was no good with words and just started to make a run for the creature, synchronizing with the Cullen’s as she left her car door open, leaving her arsenal open for the picking. 

 —-

Watching from across the truck, Kyle tossed his hands up defensively as the crossbow was withdrawn. “Easy, cvpon,” he said. “Maybe we should just chill out with the weapons. What are you gonna do? Shoot the electricity? Fuck’s sake.” If he wasn’t supposed to call the fire department, what was there for him to do? He glanced around at the cars surrounding them. Maybe someone had a fire extinguisher in the boot of their car. His new acquaintance cursed and he snapped his attention back to her. All he’d wanted to do was watch a classic film from the comfort of his car. Now, he was caught up in something he didn’t quite understand. 

Coming to this town had been one strange experience after another. Goo, and crystals, and werewolves—now a trigger happy Twilight enthusiast going after a moving ball of electricity. Kyle opened his mouth to protest further, but before he could get much out, she was running off. “I just don’t think— wait! Wait, where are you going?” He cursed under his breath and ran around the truck to at least close the door. What he found inside wasn’t exactly expected. There were knives and ammunition of a few different calibers, as well as a hunting rifle sitting ripe for the taking. Kyle looked over his shoulder at the stranger running headlong into battle, then to the screen where Jasper and Alice whisked Bella to safety. Wouldn’t that be too easy. He glanced back at the stranger, then the rifle. “Fuck.” He grabbed the rifle, fumbled with ammunition, and took off towards the electrified mass.

“Hold up!” Kyle called. He was immediately shushed by fellow movie goers as he dashed between cars and called out again. “I’m coming with you!” He flipped the bird at a particularly upset man in a Kia. “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to save the day, bruh!”

—-

It was good that humans didn’t know about all the shit that lurked in the shadows. Real good, as it meant they got to live life in ignorance without worrying about being eaten by werewolves or vampires or being trapped by weird grass or sand. Daiyu envied them sometimes. But right now, she thought regular humans were very annoying. None of them were seeing the ball of lightning as a threat and worse, the guy who did see her shooting into action telling her to chill.

She didn’t have the time or tact to explain the situation, which was why she just ran. She tended to hunt alone, anyway — and maybe this time it would be with an unwanted and annoyed audience, but hey. She wasn’t going to see all these cars go bzzzt with electricity and the people’s skeletons light up when they did. If that was even real. The guy was following her and at least it confirmed something: he was the cause for the tug in her stomach.

Fucking awesome. A shifter was helping her kill some beast. 

“Alright, okay, cool, that’s awesome and also great!” Maybe the shifter knew something about raijus. Or maybe he was just … stupidly brave. Which Daiyu didn’t want, because those were qualities she liked in people. She ignored all the protests from viewers (even if it was very nice that people were this passionate about Twilight in 2024!) and jumped on the hood of one of the cars in front to get a good look. She whipped her head around, her ponytail smacking her in the face. “Do not get too close.” She noted the rifle – her rifle – in his hands. Well, good. As long as she got it back. “It’s gonna shock you if you do. Yeah? How’s your aim?” She whipped her head back, the cacophony of sound – movie, yelling moviegoers, storm, someone eating popcorn with their mouth open – made her dizzy but she tugged at the sound and made it one large hum of noise as she attempted to take her aim.

—

The closer they got, the more the creature took shape. Kyle figured it mostly resembled a dog, you know, if dogs went Super Saiyan. That would be a show he’d watch. Dragon Ball Z, but they’re all dogs? Focus, Kyle. He could daydream about anime when he wasn’t in imminent danger of being barbecued. He came up next to Daiyu, mouth agape as he looked at the dog. “I’m gonna have so many questions after this,” he whispered, glancing at Daiyu. He didn’t know if the dog could hear them, but if its hearing was anything like his, it definitely would. 

“Don’t get too close, don’t get shocked, don’t die. Got it,” Kyle replied. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the ball of lightning, but it was getting hard to look at, like looking into the sun. He blinked hard and steadied himself. He drew the rifle and scoffed at the question. “How’s my aim? You think I would pick up a gun if I wasn't pretty confident I could use it? I’ll follow your lead.” He had hunted back in Canada with his cousins. He knew how to take down a deer, or any manner of wild fowl, and even coyotes if the situation called for it. This was probably like coyotes, if the coyotes could decimate the power grid. Simple. 

After a moment, he looked at his new partner in crime—or maybe partner in justice was a better title. “I’m Kyle, by the way. I just figure we should know each other’s names in case we, y’know…” He made a cut throat gesture paired with sound effects.

——

At least the shifter was down to clown — or, like, kill a raiju. Even if he didn’t know what it was. Daiyu tried to shrug off the comment about having to explain what was going on, as that was the part of hunterisms she was worst at, but she offered a quick look and a random thumbs up. “Gotcha!” Which was not a promise or an agreement, but just something to say so she could go on with her purpose.

Which was … what, exactly? Hadn’t she decided to make her code be as simple as the local bounty board? To be moved by money, not by considerations of morality or heroism. Still — even if she wasn’t going to catch any coin for this, could she just let the people die? It wasn’t something worth pondering about. It was simple. Almost as simple as picking a random bounty from the board and going for it so she could pay her rent. These people were in death traps without knowing it. Daiyu wanted to watch her movie without people dying. 

“I don’t know, people are pretty stupid when it comes to guns,” she responded, before offering her name as well: “Daiyu! You’re a —” She changed her mind halfway, deciding it better to not ask what kind of shifter the other is. “Not going to die.” She swished her head towards the raiju, squinting one eye close and taking aim. Soon enough her finger pushed the trigger and her bolt shot towards the lightning creature, piercing its hind thigh.

—

Kyle was satisfied with the thumbs up as a clear promise to fill him in if neither of them died. He was pretty sure that the stranger–Daiyu, as she identified herself–knew what she was doing. Otherwise she was doing a damn fine job pretending. The thought gave him a moment’s pause. Was she pretending? Was Kyle about to be on the bad side of killing a creature like him? The thing didn’t seem to have any sense of rationality, as it was actively walking into a minefield of sitting duck humans. But then, Kyle couldn’t call himself rational when he shifted. He had never taken issue with hunting before. Each animal gave its life for the greater picture. That was simple. It was nature. But where did he, a werewolf, fit into the greater picture? It was never something he’d considered. 

As the creature’s leg was struck, a shower of sparks burst around it. He flinched, abandoning the existential crisis for later. It would keep him up every night this week, but it wasn’t important now. The sparks and crackles from the beast reminded Kyle of a transformer exploding. Like live wires, the beast writhed in pain for a moment. In that same moment, the storm above them roared some of the loudest thunder he had ever heard. It left his ears ringing. Werewolf hearing be damned. The creature recovered itself, and charged in their direction. Beginning to back up, the rifle snapped up as Kyle reflexively took aim. “Aim where they’re going, not where they’ve been,” he murmured to himself, and lined up his shot. A crack rang out, and another shower of sparks rained down around the animal, halting its approach. He breathed a steadying sigh, and smirked at his new accomplice. “Nice to meet you, Daiyu.”

—

Frustration rippled through her, a familiar yet always unpleasant sensation, as her bolt did not pierce the creature through the heart or head but rather its legs. It was fine, she could have just used the immobility to fire another shot. But there was an audience, kind of. There was a hunting partner, which was really not her speed. And the hunting partner – Kyle, the shapeshifter – had a gun and that guy managed to get the killing shot in. The sparks were a welcome distraction, though, a large rain of them sprinkling around the screen. And then, it was done. No more sparks, no more rumbling thunder that came from the creature — just a still corpse.

Daiyu was still for a moment, disregarding Kyle the shifter and staring at the dead body before sliding down the hood of the strangers’ car. She patted it awkwardly before approaching the beast. If she was a hunter with a code to protect humans and keep them ignorant – which she wasn’t – she should get rid of the body. She gave a something to Kyle, though she wasn’t entirely sure what it was. A scowl, a grin, a smirk. “Yeah, man, that was a great shot. Nice to meet you.” He got the killing shot. He had her gun. And she’d … really made a mess of whatever it was she’d tried to do here. She extended a grabby hand. “Can I get that back?” The rifle, she meant. “So you … whatever. I’m gonna clean up.”

—-

He followed Daiyu to the dead beast, approaching it cautiously. It was certainly dead, but Kyle wasn’t sure if it still held a charge. “Sorry to steal your shine,” he said, passing the rifle back as asked. He couldn’t tell exactly what emotion she was feeling, but he got the impression that it was directly linked to the final blow. “My family is big on hunting. I’ve been going on hunting trips practically since before I could walk. I know my way around a rifle.” Maybe his experience would assuage whatever emotions were going through her head. He wasn’t some inexperienced punk rolling in off the street. He was a well-versed punk.

Looking over the body, Kyle grimaced. Up close it looked even more like just some unfortunate dog. Again, that guilt he’d never felt before tugged at his stomach. Was he so much different than this dog? “Okay,” he said, turning his attention on Daiyu. “Now is the part where you answer my questions. Like what the fuck just happened? Do you do this often?” Having just handed the rifle over into her hands, he shook his head. “Scratch that last one, I don’t need to know. How did you know what that was?” 

—-

She wanted to burst out laughing at the notion. Not that Kyle the shifter was apologizing for stealing her shine, as that was very bothersome because she felt very seen, but that he said that his family was big on hunting. Daiyu wondered what that meant, but didn’t want to pry. She didn’t recognize the other and that meant she hadn’t seen him on the board, which meant there was no good reason to pry. “Oh, awesome. Yeah, my family’s like that I guess too, you know? Hunting elk and pheasants and stuff.”

She took the gun back from him. It was getting harder and harder to ignore all the sounds around them so she trudged forward towards the dead creature. It looked almost like something normal, but she knew better than to just leave it there. “Well,” she said, “We just killed a lightning creature. That could have made all these cars go –” She made a crackling sound with her mouth, followed by a booom. “Oh, I just know. You know? Some people know how to do math. I know how about weird shit.” Like how the other person was a shifter. “Like you and anyone else in this town doesn’t.” She slung the rifle over her shoulder after flicking the safety on and then crouched down at the raiju. “We should get it away from here.”

—-

“Yeah, elk, deer–hell, squirrels if you can get ‘em.” Kyle nodded in agreement, bonding over their shared hunting skill. He wanted to tell her to not let her nerves get to her next time, genuinely wanting to be of assistance. But something told him that would not be received as intended, and he was okay letting it drop. “I used to go out with the uncles, and then my cousins when we were old enough. Family traditions and whatever.” He waved his train of thought away with his hand. This was a stranger, and she didn’t need the specifics of his upbringing. Especially when he had more questions.

He looked from the carcass to the cars, nodding slowly. As he’d pictured in his head, it would be absolute chaos, carnage, and bloodshed. “Good thing you were here, then,” Kyle affirmed. “I might know how to use a gun, but you provided it for me. Which brings me to another question; why are you driving around strapped like that? You get in trouble a lot?” It was another question he didn’t really want the answer to. He was connecting some dots, and the image he was piecing together unsettled him. What if she killed all sorts of creatures? What if she found out he was a werewolf? Would she kill him, too? Or did he need to present himself as a threat first? Those questions he left unsaid. 

Kyle wanted to protest to her that he knew more than he let on. But to do so was a tricky needle to thread, so he simply nodded. “I’m learning.” It was the truth. He’d learned about werebears, and maybe cemetery spirits. He’d heard talk of vampires and zombies, though he hadn’t ascertained if those were real or not. Now, he was learning about real life Pokémon. Kyle crouched beside her, looking down at the sad little coyote. It was much less threatening when it wasn’t actively sparking. “You need help carrying Jolteon here?” 

—

Hunters were traditionally meant to keep humans safe and separate from the supernatural world, but the Volkovs had lost that traditional and honorable cause a long time ago. A higher purpose was so easily translated into something uglier — like the divine right of kings, for example. So Daiyu didn’t do this often and Daiyu didn’t fucking know what to do. Especially because this guy wasn’t human, or at least not fully, or not all the time. So what did it mean when he said he hunted with his family? Were they a bunch of sirens, chasing prey, or bugbears? Or did they hold up human traditions despite being something else? Or was he unfortunately cursed with a werewolf’s bite?

The thoughts were dizzying. “Yeah, same here. Hunting trips with the fam, what a time,” she said off-handedly. Daiyu glanced at Kyle, then back at the raiju. It would be little issue to carry it, with her hunter strength. Should she still be trying not to come off as a ranger, though? Or was that too little too late? She chewed on her cheek as his question bounced around her head. “Nah, I usually am the trouble.” Cheekiness seemed like a safe bet. “But yeah, whatever, I’m just someone who’s prepared for these kinds of things. I try to be more subtle about it usually, though.”

She took the hind legs of the creature, gesturing that he could take the other. A laugh left her lips at the mention of Jolteon. “Fuck.” She huffed. “That’s good. That’s — yeah, Jolteon, that’s right on the god damn nose. Let’s just take –” Her eyes scanned their surroundings, the angry people in their cars. It’d be best to store the creature in her car until she could find a proper way to dispose of it, but to walk it past all those moviegoers was asking for trouble. “Into the woods. Hide it for now.”

—

The mention of her own hunting trips brought forth yet another question that Kyle couldn’t keep from tumbling out of his mouth. “When you say hunting, you mean the elk and not these—,” he looked down at the corpse, but without a real word for it, continued unsure. “These…monsters, right? That’s what this is, a monster?” Yet another question he didn’t want the answer to, but this time the need for it pressed him on. “You know, since you’re so prepared for anything.” He gestured with his chin to the rifle she now held. 

Kyle shouldn’t be prying, not here in the middle of a movie, not with Kristen Stewart monologuing in the background. But hunters were a fairly novel idea. He hadn’t thought they were real, just more fairytale fodder. Like werewolves. It felt stupid to admit to himself that he hadn’t once worried about being hunted down for the crime of being bitten. The very idea made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. It wasn’t something he’d had to consider. The apartment he lived in was above a cryptid-themed souvenir shop, which, conveniently, had a basement for mostly storage of old junk, tools, and broken mannequins. The basement did a pretty good job of holding a bloodthirsty werewolf, and his dad being the building’s super was just the cherry on top of his cover story.

Kyle tried to keep his tone and his expression neutral. He didn’t want the skepticism of being predator and prey to cross his face and give him away as he danced carefully around the topic. “Sorry, Jolteon,” he said, trying to break some of the tension as he took the front legs of the animal and hoisted it with Daiyu. “Can’t catch ‘em all.” 

——

She stared at him, at his clumsy way of speaking, at the way he hesitated to name the raiju anything. Beast, monster, creature, pest, prey. So what was she supposed to say? That she hunted elk? She didn’t, she hated hunting regular animals. She found it — well, she didn’t try to pass judgment, as that started a whole moral debate in her head, but she found it something. “I mean, this is just a coyote with sparks,” she quipped. Daiyu lifted the creature up, wanting to tell the other to fuck off, but here she was. Doing teamwork again. With a shifter, again. 

She could feel it rise within her, the clumsiness. Her father hated this about her, the way she had no control over the things that came from her mouth. Not just because she was vulgar, but because she was too forward. Daiyu tried to press her lips together, to keep her from blurting something out, “But yes, a monster. I hunt monsters. What are you?” Her eyes slanted upwards and she cursed herself inside her head – something she did very commonly – before starting to move. She didn’t owe the other secrecy, because he wasn’t human, but she did owe herself secrecy, didn’t she? But it had to be clear by now what she was.

The pokémon references didn’t help. It made the other too damn likable. Daiyu kept trudging into the woods, the raiju swinging between them. (If pokémon were real, would she be hunting them? That would be really fucked up.) She grit her teeth and managed to not reply this time, for which she still cursed herself.

—

More questions pressed to the front of Kyle’s mind. Why was she so hesitant to confirm his suspicions that this Pokémon-from-Hell was a part of the weird shit? He knew it was supposed to be left unsaid, (he had heard enough from his grandmother,) but they had clearly passed that point when they took it down. A coyote with sparks didn’t satiate the need to understand what he’d just witnessed. His thoughts were beginning to race as his mouth tried to form multiple questions at a time. How much of the oddities of Wicked’s Rest had she known? Would she have answers about werebears, too? Shit, did she know more about werewolves than Kyle? He thought of those questions as off of the table. Surely he couldn’t just ask–

What are you? The question hit him like a crossbow bolt of lightning between the eyes. Every hair on his body stood at attention. “Um.” He floundered for a moment, grasping for any words to respond. He almost tripped over his own feet and dropped the stupid–monster. If this dog was a monster, was that what Daiyu was looking for? For Kyle to admit to being a monster? Was that what he was to her? His stomach felt like a stone falling through him. “Could you be more specific with that, uh, question? Please?”

—

Her hunting training hadn’t covered this. Truth be told, her training hadn’t covered a lot of communication techniques, unless you considered the best ways to trick shifters or interrogation tactics as such. Daiyu felt frustration fly through her system, heard Vissa yell something about a storm coming as her face turned a little stormy. There was at least the creature between them, a good distraction from how the other fumbled with his reply to her forward question.

“Whatever,” she said, “I’m not gonna hunt you.” He wasn’t on the board. Besides, he’d helped. Her sister would talk this guy into the woods and prod and poke until he’d reveal his true nature and then slit his throat, to trick the shifter the way she’d been taught. But Daiyu didn’t want to hunt this guy, and it was only because he wasn’t on the board. No ulterior motive. It wasn’t because of the weeping heart in her chest that her sister Inna had chastised all her life. Just because there was no point in it. (The Raiju hadn’t been on the board, either, but somehow that distinction wasn’t made.) “But like … snake? Wolf? Bird? What are you?”

—

I’m not gonna hunt you, was all the confirmation Kyle needed. He was on the menu, so to speak. Maybe not to Daiyu, maybe not now, but to someone out there. It took him a beat to grapple with his new place on the proverbial food chain before he could get anything out. “Wait,” he said, immediately derailing once more. “There’s weresnakes and werebirds? I mean, fuck, it makes sense, you know, I’ve heard about the little people all my life, but I oonly knew about the bears and the wolves.” There were dozens of questions he had about the other shifters. Like, did the birds follow the same rules? Were they bound to the sun rather than the moon? Could you get bit by a snake and get turned into a snake? Even if the snake was venomous? Was it like Spider-Man, and the venom is what turned you into the snake? He set aside the questions for later (and maybe for Google).

Licking his lips and shrugging, Kyle replied, “I guess I’m the wolf variety.” He clicked his teeth and continued, “Shtah, I feel stupid being at a fuckin’ Twilight viewing and admitting this, man.” 

— 

Oh, shit. This was not the first time her big mouth had talked too fast and too much. Daiyu assumed that shifters all knew about each other, that they had some kind of big shifter text chain where they talked about eating humans and shedding issues, but maybe werewolves were excluded from that. “Yeah! Those totally exist too,” she said, nodding. It would be strange if lamia and sirens only transformed during the full moon, but probably better for society and humanity as a whole. 

She let out a huff of amusement, looking over her shoulder at the drive in behind them as she kept walking further into the woods. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s fun. I like these movies ‘cus of it.” There was something about watching bad movies about the supernatural that made Daiyu feel comforted. It was why she’d watched all of the Vampire Diaries multiple times — but mostly just the first three seasons. “Little bit stupid for telling me though.” She dropped the raiju to the ground. “Kidding.”

—-

Fueled with knowledge, Kyle couldn’t keep his mouth from running. “You probably have so much knowledge on all this stuff, right? I mean, probably more than me. Definitely more than me.” That felt like a mistake to admit as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t want to come off as inexperienced or ignorant. Worse yet, he didn’t want to come off as a problem. “There’s no real guidebook for all of this. Lot of trial and error and error and error,” he amended with a toothy grin. “It’s,” he gestured vaguely to the space around them, “all about learning and shit, though, right?” Maybe that didn’t help his case, but he’d rather be somewhat honest with the hunter. She had given him her word. She wouldn’t hunt him.

“As far as werewolves go, it’s bad,” Kyle mused. He had a lot to say on the topic, but kept it succinct for now. His head snapped up at the joke threat, but he relaxed when he realized she wasn’t serious. Cracking a grin, he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t have much experience with, uh, hunters. That’s what you’d call yourself, right?” He looked down at the animal at their feet. He almost wanted to ask what Daiyu planned to do with the pelt, but it didn’t seem particularly germane, given the circumstances. 

—-

If there was any way to appeal to Daiyu, it was by saying that she was better at something than someone else. And though this wasn’t something she was particularly proud of, it was still true. She was more knowledgeable than this stranger, “Yup! I know a lot. I’m pretty much a genius when it comes to this.” Compared to him, she certainly was. Compared to other hunters, especially her siblings … well, it wasn’t knowledge she’d ever excelled in. Reciting species’ weaknesses had always been something that tired her — she’d rather find out through just hitting them. “Guess you’re gonna have to find shit out, huh?”

It had to be hard to be a werewolf. At least most other shifters were raised amongst one another, were taught what they were and how they could use that against others. But bitten werewolves, they were just left to their own shitty devices. “Twilight’s a shit resource for sure. And um, yeah, yeah, hunters — maybe that’s coolest for you, right? Just stay outta trouble. Don’t eat people or whatever.” She considered their surroundings, the dead animal at their feet, and started to gather some twigs, sticks and leaves to cover up its white fur. “This one’s called a Raiju, FYI.”

—-

The urge to ask for more and more information wouldn’t die down inside Kyle. He didn’t want to come off as entirely ignorant, but the hunter said she was a genius when it came to this particular subject. “Alright, Encyclopedia Daiyu, I’ll have to have you teach me more about all this sometime,” he said, hoping she’d agree so he could flood her inbox later. “I think I have a lot to learn.” The admission felt like one of weakness rather than simple ignorance. The feeling didn’t sit well inside his chest. Exposing your belly to the enemy couldn’t be a smart move. He had to remind himself that she had said she wouldn’t hunt him. 

The comment about eating people had Kyle grimacing. He had shifted a handful of times outside the safety of his building’s basement walls, but he hadn’t eaten anyone. Had he? The thought made his stomach do a somersault. “I’m good on the not eating people.” He followed the hunter’s lead, covering the animal’s corpse with forest detritus. “Raiju. Ha, kinda rhymes with your name.” He didn’t want to make another Pokémon reference, lest she think of him as a nerd. But there was a Pokémon based on the creature before them. “Real life Pokémon,” he quipped, unable to keep his mouth shut.

—

The concept of her – a ranger – helping a werewolf was absolutely beyond her comprehension. The whole situation was hard to grasp in general, what with her hunting this creature out of some kind of feeling of duty, enlisting a shifter for help and standing here, still and without action. Daiyu swallowed, shrugged, “Whatever, man,” she said, which was non-committal and not an answer at all to his non-question. She didn’t deal with unshifted werewolves a lot — the most she saw of them was when they were feral and wild in the woods.

She felt something press in her skull. A headache. A moral quandary that she didn’t have the tools to solve. These days those were the same. “Neat. I mean, that’s kinda … not cool, you know. Guess that’s gonna get you … targeted. Anyway.” She frowned at the twigs and leaves. “Maybe. I’m not a good — I don’t help people.” She poured some sand over the dead creature, let out a huff of air. “Yeah, it does. And yeah, it is. I used to wonder if the creator of Pokémon like, knew of these kinda creatures.” She started wiping her hands on her trousers, looking up. “Good enough, I guess. There’s still … movie left.” She’d get the creature a proper hiding place later. She held out her hand, though didn’t specify if it was to get her weapons back or to have it shaken.

—

Kyle got the feeling that maybe he’d overstepped some invisible line he hadn’t known was there. Maybe befriending a hunter was reckless, even when she didn’t feel like a threat. At least, she hadn’t felt like a threat. Her deflection read as dismissive to Kyle. Perhaps he didn’t view her as a threat because she didn’t view him as a threat. Something unfamiliar tugged inside his gut. He wanted to be respected by her, not brushed aside. Part of him wanted the hunter to fear him. The thought felt almost out of place as soon as he’d thought it, but wasn’t it sort of true? Wasn’t he a beast to be feared? He huffed a chuckle to himself. That didn’t feel like it fit right, either. Better, but not exactly. “Yeah,” he said, after considering Daiyu’s words for a moment. “I’ll do my, uh, best, I guess.” He met her extended hand with his own, both passing her back the ammunition she’d lent, and shaking her hand at the same time. “For the record, I don’t help people either. One time Pokémon battle.” He turned back towards the screen, frowning at the movie. It didn’t feel worth it to stay. It didn’t feel worth it to leave either. He looked back to his new not-enemy. “Walk you back to your truck?”

—

There should be another bolt in her crossbow, aimed at the heart of the untransformed werewolf. This could be her easiest hunt of the year. But that wasn’t her hunter’s code — if she even had one. Hunting the raiju also wasn’t part of her code, but maybe saving a bunch of people who are watching Twilight could be something she added. As for Kyle the Werewolf, there was nothing that demanded she hunt him besides the nagging lessons taught in youth. There was no immediate threat, nor was there a bounty on his head as far as she knew. So Daiyu simply shook his hand and took her weapon back and tried not to think about it all too much.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, starting the walk back to her truck with one weapon in each hand, wondering if someone had called the authorities. Hopefully the sounds of thunder and Supermassive Black Hole had covered the sounds of the gunshot, though. “Was a good one, though. Good Pokémon battle. No fried people and shit.” She gave Kyle a look, a semi-grin. It wasn’t so bad, what they’d done. “Edward would be proud.” 

—

There was still some kind of unease that sat alert at the back of Kyle’s mind. On one hand, Daiyu had promised not to hunt him. On the other, she was a total stranger who had just played a hand in taking out a creature. Was he feeling conflicted about hunting the creature? He hadn’t long considered his new role in nature. Were he and the raiju equals? Had he too implicitly trusted this gun wielding Twilight-goer? He would have to sit with the topic later. He thought the hunter might combust if he started grilling her about her moral compass, and he didn’t want to put out any fires tonight either.

Kyle scoffed. “You think I care about Edward’s opinion? He would be a normal type trainer in the most boring way. He would have a team of fuckin’ pidgey and–y’know, never mind.” His face wrinkled in disgust. “Point being, I’m not ‘Team Edward,’” he concluded, with air quotes accenting his words. He crossed his arms across his chest as they reached the truck. Goodbyes felt awkward, especially given the circumstance of their meeting. “Hey, thanks for being cool,” he said flatly, with an air of hesitation. “I mean, letting me make you look like a chump with a bow.” He cracked a teasing grin and gave her finger guns. “You’ll get ‘em next time, bro.”

—

Once arrived at the truck, Daiyu worked on returning her weapons to it, making sure they wouldn’t go off if she went too hard over a speed bump (a common occurrence). A small laugh left her lips at the other’s response to her throwaway comment and she looked up with a quirked eyebrow. “Team Jacob, then? I think you’re biased.” She shrugged, straightened up and closed the door. “I mean, I’m totally team Alice, for what it’s worth. And she’d be totally proud too.” She would probably hate Daiyu for what she was, but luckily she wasn’t real.

She nodded at his comment, head bopping at his thanks. There were no guides for situations like these and Daiyu wished there were, and that they were shared at hunter camps. Guidelines for social interactions where you accidentally roped in a shifter into a hunt and didn’t kill them, or whatever. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. Totally let you win, for the record.” She hadn’t, and it was annoying — because even though she was certain she would have been able to kill the raiju if it had been just her, she hadn’t killed it this time. “I sure will. Er – enjoy the rest of the movie. Won’t get in your way again or whatever.” She raised her hand in goodbye, ready to continue to watch the rest of the movie in escapist solitude.

[samar-sehgal]

Who: @samar-sehgal & @eleanorxshipley

Where: The After Party (post-plot drop)

When: March 22nd, 2024

Well there was no way to avoid the obvious now, that despite the evening being mostly in jest the residents of London were without a doubt wrapped up in shady, illegal and utterly dangerous activities too numerous to count. The flash of video all too gruesome, yet familiar all the same, had severely dampened the vibe of it all now. People murmured, began to scatter and drift off to the night, and while Samar’s first instinct was to try and gather whatever bits of information he could about what everyone couldn’t help but have seen… he realized that it had been a while since he’d heard from Eleanor. As they were pretending to merely be acquaintances in public whenever other people were around, they couldn’t be attached at the hip like he’d have preferred on an evening like this. It was likely she preferred the distance, he kept telling himself, what sort of publicity bring to her career if people knew she was tumbling with the loudmouthed reporter everyone disdained? Still, he didn’t like that there had been no word from her at all, and even after sending her a text there was no reply forthcoming. Putting that investigative instinct to good use he began to seek her out, trying to determine where she might have gotten off to. “Eleanor…” he muttered to himself quietly. “Just be safe.”

Pounding. Thumping. The sounds roared through her mind. Was it her heart or her head that were the cause? Everything was a blur as green eyes tentatively peeled open from the fog. Eleanor attempted ever-so-slightly to lift her face from the floor-- the immediate ache of her temple indication that it was definitely the latter. She couldn't remember much, except that first she was hiding and then everything faded to black. The crystals on her cocktail dress had collected tiny shards from the glass that had shattered on the pantry floor. Her first thought was to check her phone and seek out help, but she had no idea where it was. Likely hidden among the rubble of the pantry debris. Eleanor felt weak; her vision was still blurry which only made her dizzy as she tried to muster some strength and bring herself to her knees. She ignored the little bits of glass that pierced her legs as she slowly crawled toward the pantry door. Eleanor listened carefully, it silent in the kitchen now, though she wasn't sure how far she could make it on her own. Feebly she nudged the door open enough for a slice of light to leak in, but then vertigo took over and she pressed her face into the palms of her hands, trying to garner another bout of energy.

The longer he went without hearing from Eleanor, the more anxious Samar was becoming. It wasn’t like her to just ghost him and not reply at all. He’d last seen her around the bar area where they’d exchanged a little banter, and soon was putting all his focus into trying to track her without coming across as stalker-ish. The best lead he’d gotten was from a member of the wait-staff who said they’d seen her heading in the direction of the kitchen area, and it was as good a place as any to search. If he needed to, Samar would be searching every room on every floor of this place until he found Eleanor. For some reason, the kitchen was quiet and empty when he ducked his head in, but at least it made the effort a lot easier. “Eleanor?” he inquired, at a level above a whisper but not by much? Eyes glanced around, searching in vain… until he saw the pantry door askew, and a splash of pink color at the bottom of it. Rushing over, his heart practically in his mouth given the circumstances of the night already, Samar pulled the door open slowly and cast his gaze down… to see Eleanor down on the floor, her face in her hands. “El!” He couldn’t hide the worry in his voice, but he’d found her.

Eleanor was trying to concentrate on her breathing-- slow and steady both in, and out. She'd had panic attacks before and didn't want to go down that road again. She wasn't sure she even had the energy to combat one. In. Out. in. Out. This distracted her from the footsteps that approached, she completely oblivious to the fact that anyone was near until she heard the softness of his voice. Her nickname on his lips with concern. Even as out of it she was in that moment, Eleanor felt reprieve. Safe. He had come looking for her. It melted her racing heart, and she peeked up at him; the warmth of Samar's eyes wrapping around her like a blanket. Tears pricked her own, but she managed a small smile and reached for his hand. "Sammy." It barely squeaked past her lips; the name he loathed but let her get away with anyhow. As he knelt down to her, Eleanor disregarded all thought of the media or anyone that might be around. Despite the way they trembled, her hands pressed to Samar's cheeks, bringing his lips to hers with a feather of a kiss. "I'm okay," she whispered, her nose nuzzling his affectionately. The scene around them and her weak, shaky body might seem otherwise, but she knew now that he was here, she would be.

The moment he saw her there and saw the reaction to his voice, Samar wasted no time at all in kneeling down beside Eleanor to offer her help and support of every kind. His racing pulse just as frenetic, his hand finding hers as she’d searched for it. And it was Eleanor who reached to his face and pulled him to a soft kiss, perhaps to remind herself as well she was alright. “You’re certain?” The words were enough to half-convince him, but it didn’t stop him from surveying her for himself, slowly wrapping an arm behind her shoulders, giving her the chance to slowly make it back to her feet herself. “I didn’t know where you’d gotten to, El, but I wasn’t going to leave without you.” Eyes glanced down to notice her legs, dotted with bits of glass and a few having left nicks on bare skin. Her dress had been a showstopper, but hadn’t offered much in the way of protection. “You’re hurt, do you feel like leaving?” In the moment it wasn’t registering with him that it might look odd to the general public if they were spotted leaving together, the only thing he was focused on was her safety and condition. With Eleanor upright now and partially leaning on him for support, Samar’s arm dropped to her waist, reeling her in tighter. “I’m just glad you’re safe, El.”

Although the kiss was almost like a pinch to make sure this was all real, Eleanor was overwhelmed with so much adoration for him that she let the moment overtake everything else. She nodded softly, melting against Samar as he scooped her onto wobbly legs. She clutched to him tightly to find balance, since her aching head still made everything a bit dizzying. "I'm sorry. I promise to explain it all later. I tried to write you back." His words made her pause, heart this time aflutter. After that horrifying video there was certainly a story to unravel. Eleanor knew how passionate Samar was at finding all of the juicy details and instead, he was looking for her. Green eyes grew soft, meeting warm ones again. "Thank you for not giving up on me." She held his stare, only diverting to her legs as his did. Small red cuts decorated ivory skin, but she didn't feel like any glass had actually sunk its way in. She did want to leave, and really just wanted to be with him somewhere safe. If anyone noticed them leave together, she didn't care at the moment. Perhaps he'd be dubbed a hero, or they would be called out. But then and there, seeing that he had sacrificed his findings for her was enough for Eleanor to ignore the consequences. She'd worry about them another day. "So long as you'll stay with me tonight." Judging from his expression, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

[theskyspiritstalentshow]

Chatzy.com still exists, I hope it'll keep existing a while longer.

[theticklishpear]

Will there be a nano chat this year? ^.^

Well there is now, Anon! I've had a couple people reach out with interest in a chat for this year, so I've booted up a fresh room.

The Chatzy room will be open in the morning:

Click through and enter nano2023withpear for the password.

You do not need a Chatzy account to participate.

Please use your Tumblr handle as your username; it will help me keep track of who's who.

The room will be open 24/7 throughout November. I will be present:

Monday, Wednesday, Friday: 10 AM–12 PM EST

Saturday, Sunday: 2–12 PM EST

time zone convertor

I'm an ML for my area, plus this is the busiest season of my day job, so there may be times when I can't be there. I am, unfortunately, very human and still have to do life things.

Some ground rules:

We're an extremely low-expectation, chill room, and I intend to keep it that way. Trolling, flaming, anti-LGBTQIA+ sentiments, racism, antisemitism, etc. will not be tolerated.

If it's clear you're not there to write, you will be asked to leave.

Sometimes the room gets quiet — that's okay. Don't get upset if folks take a while to respond. They might be writing, and that's kind of the point after all.

Folks write all kinds of stuff. Just because someone's story isn't your thing doesn't mean you get to be disparaging about it. We do a lot of encouragement and I'd like that emphasis to be upheld.

Come on by if you need some prompts, challenges, or sprints! We're busy little writers, but we do love to feed each other's chaos, and sprints are a great way to buckle down and write hard for 10–30 minutes.

See you there! -Pear

[felixcosm]

when will our chatzy return home from the war

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES:  Anita (@gossipsnake) and Inge (@nightmaretist) SUMMARY: Anita & Inge Find an Egg! CONTENT: child death tw (references to death of an adult child), pheromone influence, discussions of motherhood

Something had changed between Anita and her. Or, at least, Inge assumed it had. If there was an occurrence to change a casual friendship (with added benefits), it would be saving someone’s life from hypothermia while they were a ginormous snake. It wasn’t an unwelcome change, though. There was something nice about the deepening of this particular relationship.

So they were passing through the woods near Anita’s home, hiking the way humans might and divulging in the latest rumors. Perhaps not much had changed after all. “This Max —” She bristled still, at the sound of that banshee’s name, but she sounded amused too, “She looked like a freshman and thought she’d kill me. It was … almost endearing, you know? Like an angry toddler.” She scrunched her face up in demonstration.

When the pair turned a corner Inge’s eyes fell on an unusual sight. Which was, of course, quite usual in a town like Wicked’s Rest. Things didn’t tend to be usual. There was a great chance the trees were watching them and there was some kind of fae monster lurking in their branches — and she liked that. But this was something else. This caught her attention like nothing else. “Is that … an egg?”

_ 

Metzli and Cass, they had both seemed to want to talk about the occurrence this past winter in the woods. It wasn’t that Anita didn’t like talking about it (to a certain extent) but it did make her feel her own mortality more than she would like. She wasn’t like Metzli, or Leila, or Inge for that matter. She wasn’t immortal. But Inge hadn’t brought it up much, not explicitly. Anita could tell that things had shifted between the pair, however. They spent more time together neither at work nor naked (though they still did both of those things), and it was really quite enjoyable. 

“I’ve gotta admit, as annoying as that Max sounds, I’m kind of glad to hear I wasn’t the only one up to my ears in banshee bullshit.” Anita had told her a fair bit of what had gone on in Ireland but not quite everything. There were certain things that didn’t feel like her palace to tell. Was this growth? Like that meme from that HBO show? 

Anita was so caught up in her moment of self congratulations that she hadn’t really noticed anything strange until she heard the question, and she instinctively began to answer it before she even laid her eyes on the thing, “It wouldn’t be uncommon, this is prime bird egg laying season honestly…” she trailed off as her eyes landed on the egg in question and quickly corrected herself. “Okay, that didn’t come from any normal bird.” Almost immediately, she took a few steps closer to get a better look at the thing. 

_ 

Though her confrontation with Max had irked her, it would serve to be a story worth repeating down the line. Inge hadn’t encountered a lot of banshees in her days, after all, and it was somehow refreshing that it hadn’t been a slayer (or other type of hunter) who’d wanted to kill her for once. She would very much prefer it if no one wanted to kill her, but to get hung up on wanting such things was childish. 

“Banshee bullshit,” she repeated, “That rolls off the tongue nicely. I am still a little offended that Siobhan didn’t think to invite me, you know. I thought we had something special.” She wasn’t sure if she would have gone. She hated Siobhan. She was glad Siobhan was back, though, but only because all their other colleagues – save Anita – were dull and incapable of challenging her. “With Dolan back we’ll have plenty of banshee bullshit to come, though, but just her brand.” She hated her so much, which was why there was a hint of fondness in her voice.

There was not a lot of time to overthink her feelings about the banshee who’d left her on a wall, though. The egg was taking up most of her headspace. It smelled … strange. Earthy and musky, like a perfume she might have whiffed off someone else. Was Anita wearing a different scent? She followed the other, stepping closer to the egg. “It’s beautiful.” A branch snapped and she whipped around as if scared something would come hurt the egg. “It’s … it’s all alone, out in the open … that’s bad parenting.” 

_ 

It was no secret that Inge and Siobhan were not exactly fond of one another. But they were without a doubt Anita’s most enjoyable co-workers. While that wasn't necessarily because they were her only known non-human co-workers it certainly didn’t hurt. Though there was something about the organic chemistry professor that gave distinctly non-human energy, Anita had yet to crack that case yet. “I’m sure there will be all kinds of new and exciting bullshit to deal with when the new semester starts, banshee bullshit and others.” 

Despite being a reptile, Anita was never actually an egg herself. Rattlesnakes, like a few other species of snakes, give live birth to their young. She felt much more kinship, however, to species who laid eggs than those who didn’t. “Very bad parenting…” she repeated in agreement as she carefully looked around, wondering if there was any sign of the mother nearby. All that she saw around them was open forest and a few large predator birds flying overhead. Anita knew these woods - they were not kind. 

The smell of the egg was so distinct that, and at first, Anita was worried it was rotten. Abandoned by a mother who perhaps knew it was never going to hatch. As she moved close towards it the egg seemed to shift. “It’s hardly even in a proper nest. I wonder if its mother was eaten by something out here. Or, maybe it got separated from her somehow.” Nobody had ever accused Anita of having a maternal instinct before, but all she wanted to do was scoop this egg up and find a nice warm incubator for it. She looked over at Inge, about to say something when the egg seemed to move again. “Whatever kind of egg this is, that little guy is a fighter. I don’t want to leave it out here unprotected but I’m worried trying to move it might hurt it.” 

_ 

Inge had never thought much of eggs. Eggs were simply food — they were part of Sunday breakfast when she’d been a mortal, boiled at the exact right level of hardness for Hendrik. They went into her quiches and the sweet things she baked. She’d had chickens, with her once-husband — a trio of clucking hens that he’d gotten from the farm he worked at. She’d search for their eggs each morning and sometimes they were warm to the touch, and she incorporated them in food or gave them to her parents.

But those eggs? What did those eggs matter? Those small, insignificant chicken eggs, that were naturally overshadowed by the egg in front of her. Now this was an egg. This egg had something to achieve besides being cracked above a bowl or boiled in water. Inge moved closer, its scent working itself into her nostrils and finding its home there. “Who would do such a thing … to leave an egg so beautiful? A child so innocent, so in need of protecting …” 

She swallowed thickly, wondering if Anita was right. Maybe its mother had died. Her mind trailed off for a moment, thinking about how she had died when her daughter had been young — but then it was quickly pulled back to the egg. She was able to lift her gaze from the egg after a moment to look at Anita. “We — well, it’s clear, isn’t it? We cannot abandon it in the wild like this.” She crouched down, placed a hand on the shell. It was warm. “It’s a fighter, and it should be looked after. And we’re … well, the perfect pair, aren’t we?” She could look over the darling egg from the astral at night and Anita was a fierce protector. “It’s beautiful, truly.”

_ 

It was reassuring that Inge seemed to feel the same way as Anita about this egg. Maybe that should have been concerning, but all she felt was relief in knowing that the two of them wanted to protect this precious egg together. Thinking of how Inge had helped her out of that dicey situation this past winter, getting help, keeping her alive  -  Anita nodded genuinely at the question, “Yes. We are the perfect pair.” Her attention quickly returned to the egg, as Anita took her phone out to take a few photographs of it. It was so beautiful and she had never seen anything like it before. It was like she suddenly understood why parents posted so many photos of their children online. 

“You’re very lucky we found you, sweet egg,” Anita said softly, “if humans had come across you they probably would have tried to make an omelet out of you. Humans are quite awful.” Just then the egg twitched again, or rather, the creature inside of the egg twitched. Anita grinned, “I think they agree.”  The egg didn’t stop twitching though. “Do you think it’s about to…” she trailed off slightly, almost astonished at how fantastic their timing seemed to be. The smell seemed to be getting a bit stronger and Anita frowned a bit as she looked at the “nest” that this little babe was laying in. “We need something softer for it, if it’s going to hatch here. I have some clothes in my bag,” she said as she took her backpack off. A lamia, or any smart shifter, never left home without a change of clothes on them. 

_ 

She had shed any maternal instinct like Anita had shed her skin, had thought herself rid of it now that her adult daughter had been dead and buried for over a decade. It had never fit her well anyway, that role. She had made a better aunt to her nieces and nephews, made a better mentor than a mother. But today, here and now, Inge knew suddenly that she had been an absolute fool to try and rid herself of this duty. She was a mother, and she needed to use her maternal skills to take care of this abandoned babe, this poor, lost little soul. She would nurture it. It was the very thing she was born for.

She nodded, “You are so very lucky. We understand you.” The egg was twitching and Inge looked at it with interest, but also with worry. It was beautiful, it was doing so good — “It might be,” she said. “But you’re right, this is no place to come to earth.” She had no extra clothes on her, and just wore what she was wearing. It wasn’t like temperatures bothered her much any more. She still worked on undoing her jacket and then the top she was wearing, standing only in her bra. It didn’t matter — the egg needed the softness. “We’ll take care of you.” She started to surround it with her own clothes, then looked at Anita. “I have nowhere I need to be.” She had multiple appointments, but she could forgo those. She already had.

_ 

Anita had seen many creatures be born. She had even seen many eggs hatch, incubated many of the snakes that lived at home with her. But never had she felt so immediately protective of an unknown creature before. As she bundled up the t-shirt and leggings that she had pulled from her bag she was so caught up in making sure that whatever was about to hatch from this egg had a soft landing spot that she hardly even made note of Inge’s half-undressed state. Hardly, she was a true MILF now but she wasn’t blind. “Classes are out for the summer, I don’t have anywhere I need to be for quite some time.” 

It was mostly true. People would worry if she disappeared for a while, wouldn’t they? Metzli would. At least a person would worry. But Anita had worries of her own to consider, worries about this precious life that she and Inge were about to foster into the world. More movement was coming from the egg now and far more rapidly until eventually, finally, the first small crack in its shell occurred. “Oh!” Anita said with a wide grin, looking over at her newfound partner in all of this. “That was impressive. A little fighter in there. She’ll fit right in with you and I.” She said with a playful nudge, the smile never leaving her face as she scanned the forest around them, making sure there were no outside threats incoming. 

_ 

All the worries she’d been occupied with were melting away, replaced with the nurturing care she felt for the sweet egg. The only way she could be made to think of those concerns was in the context of that egg — what if her demons were to catch up not only with her, but with this darling thing, too? Inge crouched down at the egg, nodding at what Anita was saying, “Same here. And whatever I do have, I can set aside. This is … oh, egg. No appointments matter in the face of you, I think.” 

Her eyes met Anita’s at the same time, a kind of glee shared between the pair that was new. She may have brought life into this world before, but this was different — this was done without her body tearing open, without her sweat and tears. And Anita was a better partner, was she not, than Hendrik had ever been in parenthood? Because Inge did recognize what was happening for what it was — a parental instinct, a need to take a young thing under her wing. “Very impressive,” she said, putting an arm around Anita as she pulled her towards her and looked at the egg. Its shell broke a little more and a round head poked out. “Oh …” Her eyes shone, her hand pressed against her mouth. “Oh — she’s … a beauty, Neets.”

_ 

Anita was no stranger to the feeling of intoxication. She often lived her life seeking it out, in fact. Not just in the form of her favored tequila but in the intoxication that could be found through an array of thrilling activities. Each type of intoxication, that brought on by killing, by lust, by adventure, by defiance, were all unique. As she was crouched down beside Inge as this sweet darling egg began to hatch Anita felt an intoxication unlike any she had experienced before. With Inge’s arm wrapped around her, there was a feeling of security as the beautiful babe shed its literal shell to be welcomed into the world protected by the two women. “Si… she really is.” Her eyes darted between the mare and the egg, equally intoxicated by how the creature was hatching and Inge’s reaction to it. “ Just like her mami’s,” Anita beamed. Practically, scientifically, Anita knew that there was no genetic relation between them and their egg but that didn’t stop the swell of pride she felt. 

The creature, their sweet egg hatchling, didn’t look reptilian. It wasn’t really a surprise to Anita since the egg itself hadn’t seemed particularly reptilian. While it would have been incredible to stumble upon a lamia egg in the wild she knew that wasn’t what had happened. She mirrored Inge’s gesture, and wrapped her own arm around her, as she used her other hand to take a few pictures (and maybe a video or two) of the egg’s hatching. “I’m glad we found her together,” she said, resting her head on Inge’s shoulder as she put her phone away to admire the egg more without the distraction of the screen. “It’ll be nice figuring all of this stuff out together, how to take care of another person. A very small vulnerable person at that.” 

_ 

Anita said what Inge felt. She bestowed the title of mother on both of them and the mare did not shy away from it this time, did not consider all the anguish and trouble that came with that part of her identity. Why would she ever denounce motherhood, after all? Why had she ever despised this feeling of responsibility? As she looked down on the egg, she knew she would give anything and all for it. “Just like her mums indeed,” she said, cocking her head to the side so she could see her hatchling child from a different angle. “Please share those pictures with me. We’ll have to take many — infants grow so very fast.” She leaned her own head against Anita’s, hand rubbing small circles on the other’s shoulder.

She nodded at her words. Her mind ventured to Vera once more, for a moment, and when she had been an infant. The nappies and the breastfeeding and the sweet smell of her and her laughter — all of it seemed to pale in comparison to her new child. Perhaps this was what she’d needed, as a mother: a different child. “I’ll teach you,” she said, “How to be a mother.” Anita didn’t know of her late daughter, but Inge didn’t remember why it should be something kept quiet. It was important they were honest with each other, for the wellbeing of their child. “I’ve done it before. It’s hard work, but for her? It’s all more than worth it, don’t you think? We —” She sighed. “Will be amazing parents.”

_ 

A symphony of questions flooded Anita’s mind at the unexpected admission that Inge had done this, motherhood, before. It hadn’t even been something that she had considered a possibility, despite knowing the other had been alive far longer than she had. Sometimes she forgot that people existed outside the context in which she knew them. There wasn’t time to dive into all of the questions she had about this past child of Inge’s though, because the child in front of them kept working so diligently to break away pieces of its shell. “I’m glad to have you as a teacher.” 

Thinking of her own lack of experience as a mother; thinking about her relationship to her own mother, Anita felt a small pang of fear wash over her. Their baby was becoming exposed to the harsh realities of the world and she couldn’t help but wonder if, even with Inge’s help, she had what it took. “I’ve not done it before, obviously. But I’ve seen it done. You can learn a lot from observation. I may not know exactly what to do … but I think I have a sense of what not to do.” She inhaled a quick, sharp breath, before nodding in agreement. “We’ll be amazing parents.” 

[mayihaveyournameplease]

TIMING: current PARTIES: Siobhan & Beau LOCATION: Tupperware SUMMARY: An unusual fae pair work together to escape and unwelcomed kidnapping. CONTENT WARNINGS:  Unsanitary tw. WRSPICE because IYKYK.

Siobhan didn’t sleep much; the night was for having fun and the day was for having fun and there was no time left to not have fun. Terrible things happened when Siobhan wasn’t having fun, anyway. So, when she did sleep, hopefully so thoroughly exhausted that dreams didn’t dare to knock on her skull, she coveted the time; it was sacred. When the smell of varying stale foods flooded her nose and pulled her up from sleep, she was angry. When she looked around and noted the thick, cloudy plastic walls and bright blue ceiling above, she was livid. Siobhan screamed; if anyone was asleep before, they certainly weren’t now. The plastic, for its part, simply quivered a little—being reinforced by its trips through the microwave, into the freezer and the fridge and then back into the microwave. It technically wasn’t freezer safe but that hadn’t stopped it from showing up in the freezer. 

Little Beau Beep was counting sheep. They danced and pranced in his dreams, and every time he got close to one it would snap its teeth at him. “I’ll turn you all into lamp chops!” He declared, pulling a flamethrower from the dimension dream items came from. Dinner was cooked well done. Deep in slumber, a cartoon figure donned in a sleeping cap with a singular puff at the end, and a onesie, buttflap unfortunately unflapped. The smell of old food wasn’t what woke him, it lingered well with the greasy feast he was partaking in. Instead, he woke up relaxed, and happy. A big stretch and a yawn, eyes blinking wearily. “Good morning world.” He announced, as if he was the star from which the universe revolved around. It wasn’t his bedroom he caught sight of. Beau blinked, rubbing the slumber from his eyes and eyes darting around. “I am not cheesed to be here.” He mumbled in his plastic container. Spotting another contained individual, Beau raised a hand in greeting. “Hello! There seems to be a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. Haha! I’m going to be late for work! Haha.” 

There weren’t many people Siobhan decided she hated upon first sight. To hate someone was usually far more care and attention she wanted to give. Yet, as a chill struck down her spine with the familiarity meeting another fae often did, and as he laughed the way that was too fake and utterly useless, Siobhan decided she hated him. Perhaps it wasn’t fair, they were stuck in a plastic container and that was sure to be what was really souring her mood. She forced herself to smile, in a way that was also too fake, and tried to be polite. “Unfortunately, I’m not the person that put you here! So I can't get you out. Haha.” She imagined jamming his head under the lip of the lid; she imagined it squeezing and popping off like a pea freed from its pod. The image brought her peace. “I’m also not…” she sighed. “…cheesed to be here.” She stepped closer to the man, despite herself. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get out, would you? I would like to leave.” She paused. “Haha.” 

The tingle down Beau’s spine told him that this was another fae, which was nice. Beau hadn’t made many fae friends since coming to Wicked’s Rest. He had met that dumb fae child, but she was a lost cause. Then there was the Doctor fae that kept turning him down. Beau had stolen the knowledge that he was fae from her, so they couldn’t bond over that. Then there was the goat, who didn’t like him. All these Ls and Beau never couldn’t figure out why. Maybe this fae was a chance at redemption. “Haha!” Beau responded, at least this fae had a good nature. Full of laughs! Even if her laughs sounded a bit dry and flat. “Seems like we’ll be tasked with figuring out how to get out ourselves, haha!” He placed his hands on his hips, very much looking like that one construction worker who only ever watched as the others constructed. Beau turned in a slow circle, staring up at the plastic lid. “It would appear we are in very large tupperware.” Beau announced, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing he could have said, and it was something helpful. “I’m just swissed about this. Haha!” His forced smile burned his cheeks. Beau did the most manly thing he could think of, he kicked the plastic container with his foot. His foot was only covered by the onesie foot. His toes crushed into the plastic causing him to topple over and curse with pain. “I HATE THIS I FUCKING HATE THIS.” He screamed into the air, before remembering he wasn’t alone. One cough. Two coughs. “I mean. Haha.”

“Haha,” Siobhan said plainly, using the idiotic phrase to hide the anger that roiled inside of her. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, saying ‘haha’ was an easy way to stop herself from saying ‘I don’t care if you’re a fae I’m going to skin you alive and use your flesh as a wreath’. “Haha.” Watching him hurt himself was nice, like a sitcom one might leave to play in the background; amusing enough but largely a waste of time. Even if the live studio audience in her head broke out in laughter, the more sensible director was keen on keeping them on task. As this man was a fae, despite his obvious flaws, Siobhan decided she would pretend like she cared about him. “Oh! You poor, sweet thing!” She walked very slowly to his side, bending down to try and help him out. “Your toe! Oh, how that must have hurt--this terrible, evil box wants to destroy your strong manly foot. Oh! If only you could use your big, smart brain to get us out of here. Oh! If only, maybe, you could stand on my shoulders and see if the lid will lift!” She smiled tightly at him. “Haha.” She was thinking his eyes would look lovely in a jar. 

The throbbing pain in his big toe was infuriating. He hopped around on his good foot for a bit while the other fae started talking. The fae, a woman, she was hot. A bit old looking for his normal tastes, but he could forgive a fae for aging since she was so nice. Beau preened as she doted on him, calling him strong and manly. He is strong and manly. He definitely could use all his big strong manly brain power to get them out of the box. Beau put his hands on his hips, he’d seen superheroes do it on posters and he was about to be the savior of this woman’s world, it seemed fitting. “Have no fear. You should stand on my shoulders. Since I’m so strong and manly. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself with effort. Besides, I like a woman on top.” He added a wink, just to let her know that if she was interested in staying in this weird large tupperware container with him, he wouldn’t be against it.

The man looked like a simple tap would have him keeled over, Siobhan didn’t want to think about what having the full weight of someone on his shoulders would do to him. Thankfully, at least, she had fallen asleep in the same clothes she’d gone out in, so there was no free show for Beau if he decided to look up between her legs; pants could be a wonderful thing. “Oh, but shouldn’t we uplift men?” She tried to smile; she didn’t enjoy the fact her words seemed to work so well on him. “In this current political climate, shouldn’t men stand on top of women and push up heavy tupperware lids? What if my weak woman arms can’t do it?” Siobhan might have been born over a hundred years ago, but growing up in a matriarchal society that largely sacrificed its men had given her a very pointed view of the sexes; it was a very spider-like idea of feminism. Even joking in this manner had her stomach twisted into knots; she’d have to be careful about how she was complimenting the sad, small man. “I don’t want to damage your…” Siobhan gestured to his sad excuse for muscles. “...manly shoulders.” 

Beau’s chest started to puff out with each passing statement coming out of her mouth. This was a woman chasing after his own heart. Beau bravely ignored the throbbing in his left foot and straightened his back, chasing that extra inch that he knew would make him all the more handsome and impressive in her eyes. “I don’t say this a lot, but you might be the smartest woman I’ve ever met.” His tongue slipped against his upper lip. He’d seen tiktoks of younger men doing the same sign to look attractive to women. He hoped it was working. “Alright, I’ll get on your shoulders and I’ll use my strong manly arms to get us out of here. Anything for you, my excellently aged cheese.” He hoped it wasn’t too soon for fond nicknames. Every marriage needed fond nicknames. Oh wait. Maybe marriage was getting ahead of himself? He mulled it over before deciding it wasn’t. Beau walked closer to the woman, craning his neck up to look at her face. God. She was an amazonian of a woman. “Uppies.” He stated, holding his hands up as if he was the petulant toddler he acted like. 

If this man died right now, Siobhan was sure it would be her happiest memory. Nothing would fill her with more euphoria than being able to scream for him and then stab him several times. She was thinking twenty seven times but the count went up every time he opened his mouth. Suddenly, she didn’t want him on her shoulders. Maybe it would have been better if she had just crushed his trapezius with her heels. “Maybe you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met.” A muscle below her eye twitched. “You’re my hero, my egg,” she said, imagining cracking his skull like one. She hoped she never had to see him again. When he said ‘uppies’ she amended her thought: she hoped that she did see him again, thoroughly dead. 

Siobhan bent down, lifting the annoying gnat with ease--as, unlike the man, she was strong. A lifetime of rigorous training to be an instrument of Fate had changed her deceptively thin physique into the sort that could easily lift up another person. The feat was probably lost on him. “How are you?” She asked, straightening up slowly. She kept a firm grip on his legs, trying to stop him from falling over; she wasn’t sure what lies she’d have to tell about his manly body to get him to shut up if it happened. “Are your strong, big, thick, manly arms doing anything?” 

The woman lifted him up in his big strong arms, and Beau was a little breathless for a second. Strong and a man enjoyer? What did he do to get the whole package? His heart began palpitations. Then she was speaking again, honestly she spoke too much. That was another downside she had. When they got married she’d need to talk at least 95 percent less. Beau stretched his arms against the clear blue plastic cover and started pushing and pushing. At first it seemed like it wouldn’t budge.Then sound of plastic scraping against plastic, and it was becoming loose! “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” Beau shouted, his feet doing little joy taps against the woman’s shoulders.

Beau was not doing it. A large face appeared. It belonged to a man. The ugliest man Beau had ever seen. “Hahaha! Some feisty ones.” The person’s voice was loud, causing Beau to shake a bit. “Get down. I’m here to deliver your daily milk.” Beau was manhandled. Could you believe it? Man handled! He was lifted off the woman’s shoulders and placed onto the plastic ground as milk began to pour over and around them. Beau was disgusted and a little aroused, if he was being honest. “Hey! Let us out!” He shouted, fist flying against the air. But nothing changed. Milk was delivered and the tupperware was closed. 

The only thing worse than having to deal with the annoying, short man would be a shower of milk. How strange it was that the next thing to happen was precisely that. Siobhan seethed, vibrating with the force of her rage. Milk dripped from her hair and soaked into her clothes, which clung tightly to her body in a way that was flattering, though that was the only fortunate thing about it. Milk covered their tupperware in a pool of white, coming up to Siobhan’s knees. She waded through the liquid, ready to be done with it. She’d plunge his body below the milky wavers and drown him. Escape would be more steps away from her but at least the last shreds of her sanity would remain. She stormed over to him, milk sloshing; she felt a little like a slow-motion attractive lifeguard coming to shore. The milky hair flip didn’t help with the image. 

She was close, close enough to strangle when she remembered that killing fae was the sort of thing that had gotten her wings ripped out. As much as Siobhan hated him in this moment, as he was the vehicle for her frustrations, he couldn’t be harmed; a fae was a fae and fae were family. “Looks like another case of someone trying to keep men down, my sweet, sweet omelet.” Her hands balled into fists by her sides; she spoke between clenched teeth. Her shoulders ached from where he had tapped in excitement on her. She wanted to crush him like a bug. “What now?” Her gaze dropped, she noticed a strange lump in her pocket--cylindrical. What did she have in there? She pulled it out, staring at the drenched knife. She twisted it, watching the blade catch light. “Would you look at that, my egg?” She grinned.

The worst thing about the milk was not the fact that it was seeping into his onesie, congealing against his toes and setting on his skin in a thick and sticky film. No. The worst thing was the milk was warm. Warm milk? What kind of sin had the woman next to him committed to cause them to end up in this place? Surely Beau had done nothing to deserve such a treatment from whatever giant had opened the container and doused them in warm milk. “Haha.” At this point the laugh had lost any and all luster it once had, the smile which never reached his eyes was starting to not reach his lips. How was he supposed to thrive under these conditions? Then Siobhan was pulling out a knife, and for a second, when she was calling him egg, he thought she was about to poach him. Beau blinked, a little bit of a laugh and went. “Haha, my finest aged cheddar, what are you going to do with that knife?”

Siobhan thought about how lovely the man’s blood would be against her knife; she pictured his skin ripping in layers when she would stab him, flesh given to blood given to bone. What sort of expression would he make, she wondered. Would he haha? She looked at him and then her knife and then back at him. She could not kill another fae. She splashed around the container, making her way to the wall. Siobhan plunged her knife into the worn plastic and pulled down with as much force as she could summon, ripping a jagged, vertical line into the box. It looked suspiciously like a certain anatomical opening, but Siobhan wasn’t going to make that comparison. “Come, help me open this,” she called back at the short man, pulling at one side of the tear. “I need your…strong man arms to help me…because I’m…too much of a woman.” She hoped he’d slice his hand on the plastic, feeding it to the warm wilk (which was surprisingly nice, she thought, like a bath).   

Beau smiled broadly as the beautiful and slightly too old and aged looking woman stabbed the knife into the plastic and started sawing their way out. He should have known she would be too weak to follow up. “Don’t worry, I am excellent with my hands.” Beau lied, but since he truly believed that lie to be true he suffered no ill effects. Beau stepped forward, shoving both of his hands into the gash she’d created and started tearing it open. Nothing happened. Beau coughed, adjusting his hands to focus on just one side pulling back instead of pushing the two halves apart. He started getting somewhere! The plastic gave a bit. “Big and strong, what can I say.” With each long and tiresome tug the opening got bigger and bigger until the plastic tore and Beau found himself being spilled out on the counter with the milk flowing out. Suddenly the world was no longer small and tiny and Beau was large. This was the tallest he’d ever been! Except, as he looked around, he started to get the feeling that he was simply his normal height now. Disappointing. 

Siobhan knew for certain, in that moment, that her partner in milk was completely useless. She pulled, her muscles flexing--as she’d been raised to be the perfect instrument of Death, there was an undeniable strength held in her limbs. She pulled, and pulled harder to make up for the man’s lackluster efforts. The tiny cut turned into a gash and then an opened and milk sloshed through and their bodies tumbled with it. Out of the tupperware, whatever strange--slightly perverted--magic was at work seemed to wear off and Siobhan was at her usual height, which towered over the obnoxious man. She brushed milk off of her; a futile gesture. “Siobhan,” she said, holding her milky hand out, “I forgot to introduce myself and…” She drew her hand back, which trembled in the cold, dry air. In front of her were a hundred jars, lined up in neat rows, holding their own lakes of milky fluid and a singular figure standing in the liquid. She thought she saw a unicorn in one; she wasn’t even sure those existed. Wordlessly, she tilted her head to the side and wrung milk out of her hair. “I think we avoided something terrible,” she said, “perhaps because of your manliness.” She added that only because she thought it was funny. 

In their miniature forms, the woman had towered over Beau. Old and tall, both had been marked against her in his constant judgment. However, stuck in a tupperware container, Beau had been kind enough to offer her grace. Grace that whatever had stuck them in that tupperware had messed up the shrinking process and had shrunk Beau just a little bit smaller. Now as the two of them were standing normal sized in a room full of jars, Beau felt disgust boil over him to realize she actually was just behemothly tall. That was very unbecoming of her. Old or tall. Pick a struggle. Then she introduced herself. Rage danced underneath Beau’s skin, causing it to prickle. He hadn’t asked for her name, eliminating all ease of snagging it from her. Sure. The pull in his chest informed him that she was a fellow fae, but she could have been kind enough to ask. His practiced smile pulled across his face as he turned to look up at her. “Beau. “ He returned his name, “But you can call me Beautiful. On account of how manly I am.” He struck a pose. At least she was smart enough to recognize him as the man he was.

She marveled at the ease in which murderous fantasies involving the man flooded into her mind. By the time Beau had finished introducing himself, Siobhan had mentally flayed, dismembered and tortured him in a hundred different ways. She stared down at him and knew that her favorite of the fantasies was the one where she crushed him like an insect. No, like a tin can; instead of a smear, she’d stomp down and snap bones into a perfect circle. She smiled. “Beautiful,” she said, looking beyond him and into the imagined version that waddled around with his collapsed body, slowly pulling up to reveal smashed bones and flattened skin in the shape of an accordion, dangling limply. “So beautiful.” Her imaginary arms lifted him, laying his accordion body on its side so she could separate each ring of flesh so she could twist it again to get a never-ending cord of his body. She looked around at the tupperware and jars and suddenly it all made a sort of perverse sense to her. The warm milk, however, remained a mystery. 

She knelt down to his level. “Beau, beautiful, manly Beau.” Siobhan rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Putting you in a jar would be such a waste. I’d want you where everyone could see. I’d want wrapped around the room like tinsel. I’d call people over, I’d say ‘look at Beau, isn’t he so beautiful’.” You wouldn’t believe it, he was such a tiny man in his life, now look at how tall and grand I made him. It was the sort of irony Siobhan liked. “You’re so special. You would have been wasted here. I’m so happy that you’re free.” Trapped, Beau’s unique, repugnant nature would have been lost to the world. He was a pacifier, sized like one too; her mind reached a new level of calm, setting all its cognitive efforts into cruel punishments. He was meditative, soothing, a zen garden for a murderer. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, picturing herself with acid lips to break down his cartilage. “Beautiful Beau.” She rose to her feet. “I hope the next time we meet, there’s less milk.” And she left.

That night, she completely forgot about the stained tupperware and all questions she had about how they got there or where there even was—she didn’t even remember how she got home—but she couldn’t forget Beau. He’d given her so much peace that for the first time in over forty years, she slept through the night, carried by easy dreams of Beau dying beautifully. 

Maybe older women had their place in this society. Despite the lines around her eyes, and her probably sagging bosom, Beau was enthralled by the tenderness at which Siobhan reviered him. Despite asking, multiple times, to be referred to as Beautiful, Siobhan was the first to listen to him. She kissed his nose. She left him speechless. If only she was better looking. Beau watched as she walked away, not ready yet to escape from the room that had bound them. Milk clung to him, and he knew it would sour and turn disgusting soon, but there was one thing he needed to do first. He’d seen a unicorn, miniaturized just like they had been, only in a jar. Beau plucked it off the shelf and dropped it into his milk-soaked pocket. This would be coming home with him.

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: 5/6 LOCATION: Somewhere someplace away from Wicked's Rest at the side of the road PARTIES: Jade & Nora SUMMARY: Jade parks by a rock on the side of the road, it's Nora. WARNINGS: suicidal ideation tw

On the first day, she cleared the town. Out of the crypt, through the woods, and on. The shadow followed her. Out of sight. Out of hearing range. It loomed. 

On the second day came the thirst. She stopped at a lake and got lost for hours. The rippling water, the smell of crushed grass with a running creek. She was back in Ireland. Declan was in the water, hand outstretched for her to grab. Come in, his smile told her. Come in, in the shadow laughed, drown. 

On the third day, she saw a couple taking photos together. For a moment an illusion flickered at the tips of her fingers, ready to destroy their moment, but the will to try drained instantly. Nora moved on. 

On the fourth day, her stomach began to hunger unbearably. She bore it. 

On the fifth day, her legs began to shake. She hadn’t stopped to sleep for fear the shadow would spend the night whispering in her ear. She tried not to stop to drink because then the shadow would tell her to drown. She refused to stop to rest because resting was reserved for people. She was a murderous monster. She didn’t get to rest. 

On the sixth day, nothing happened. The shadow screamed over the wind. She stopped looking back to see if it had Declan’s face. On the seventh day, her legs gave out. They crumpled midstep. The shadow laughed. It crawled towards her. It mocked that she would have nowhere to go. Nora began to crawl.

On the seventh day, her arms gave up. She had crawled until the cloth around her knees, elbows, and stomach had been torn away from the sliding movement. Cuts filled with small rocks lined her fingers. Mud covered her head to toe. The shadow cheered. 

For hours she lay at the side of the road. The sun baked the mud into her. The shadow waited eagerly. Cars sped by, tires speeding through puddles. Each spray of water brought Nora back to Ireland. To the waterfall. To Declan. She closed her eyes, imagined his smile. Imagined she was there. By the time a figure stood over her, casting a shadow between her and the sun, Nora had been imagining Declan so hard she thought he’d be there. Her eyes opened. Her body strained to move her face out of the mud and get a glimpse up. Long black hair. Brown eyes. But not her brown eyes. Not the eyes that had once held everything and now nothing. Nora let her face fall back into the mud.

This is where she was supposed to say go away. This is where she wanted to say leave me be. This is where she might have managed a ‘are you my shadow?’ but the only words that made it out of her cracked lips were “It should have been me.” Her mantra. Her daily affirmations. The only feasible thought going through her head. 

—

She did not hunt out of town that often. Unless someone posted something at the Three Daggers about incidents in the outskirts, Jade much preferred the comfort of headstones and dark alleys over woodsy areas, thank you very much. But she wasn’t gonna pretend like there wasn’t something nice about taking off, something freeing about letting the wind hit her face, getting lost (hopefully not in the literal sense), while she rode farther distances. It reminded her of being young and cruising the country with one unique purpose, one mission, no distractions. 

Distractions were plenty once she made it to Wicked’s Rest. Distractions were good here, so good she found herself slipping, falling in love with one. And then said distraction left to go back to her cult, then came back a month later, Jade’s emotions yo-yo-ing all over the place, doing all those fancy loopy tricks. And with said emotions came the need to let them out. Talking had been nice (in the painful kinda way, but nice), crying had done her good. But riding? Yup, riding was exactly the type of thing she needed right now. Some would dare say she was running from her conscience, but some knew nothing at all. 

Jade stopped the motorcycle when she spotted a giant rock on the side of the road, deciding to park right next to it. Cause then she’d remember to come back here, where the rock was, for her bike. (She’d lost Roxie once, she’d learned her lesson). She climbed out and walked to her delivery box, where she kept the weapons needed for the evening. Her stakes, her crossbow, some knives. The classics. Cause she really needed to get back into the groove of—

GEEZ! Jade jumped, her heart leaping to her throat when the rock moved beneath her (?), lifted its head to look at her with sad brown eyes, spoke (?), and then slapped back onto the ground. What… Oh. Common sense kicked in. Cause, it was so much easier to think with no distractions. This was no rock, it was a woman, lying on the side of the road for… whatever reason. Which… First of all, relatable. Maybe she should’ve tried that during her ‘Regan is in Ireland’ era’. Second of all, her face was gonna look incredible with this improvised mud bath. Third of all, and probably like, the only relevant thing… how did a girl end up on the side of the road, covered in mud doing her best Peeta Mellark impression? It should’ve been me. Jade blinked at her in disbelief, cause, “Um… I’m pretty sure it was you. Girl, what happened?” Jade forgot about her weapons, or her hunt, crouching to examine the not-rock closer.  Her gaze shifted around, to the cars passing by, no other soul but them on this side of the road. What was going on? This had all the elements of a sidequest, except… “Are you…hiding out here?” 

—

The television was on. Nora was lying face down in the mud so she couldn’t see, but she would know the bad acting of an ABC family series anywhere. A brunette with bright shining eyes stood over the runaway teenager. Both actresses were in their twenties because you couldn’t hire a real sixteen-year-old for a television series. They were too lanky and dumb looking. A laugh track played as the brunette spoke in a bright, bubbly voice. Girl, what happened? Each syllable contained a miniature comedy that Nora missed the joke too. The laugh track cackled. The runaway’s lines should be next, a polar opposite to really drive home to the audience that these characters were so different. The television crackled with static. No, that was just the ringing in her ears. The mixture of starvation, dehydration, and too much sun was messing with her. Leaving her disoriented and confused. The laugh track played again, the shadow controlled the soundboard.

“It was me.” Nora agreed. What happened? That was a loaded question. How did she answer that? It all started when I went to Ireland. No, that wasn’t the start. It all started when I went to track down a screaming moose. No. Why stop there? It all started when I was adopted by two humans who didn’t know a thing about bugbears. Record scratch. This was me as a baby. Two months old and probably abandoned by a bear in the woods. If a baby cries in the forest and no one hears, is there even a baby abandoned? In come, Gregory and Damien, two gays who always got too far in over their heads. Aw geez, what conundrum will they get up to today?! The laugh track played again. Nora realized she hadn’t said anything out loud. 

“I’m not doing a good job. You found me. You get five million dollars. Yay.” Nora rocked herself to the side, so she could look at who she was talking to. It was an awkward motion, a fish flopping on dry land until it couldn’t move anymore. Her hands clutched at the quadruple-wrapped plastic bag full of ashes, immaculately kept throughout her whole travel, checked continually to ensure no leak would go unnoticed. “You’re cargo pants.” Without mud obscuring her vision, Nora found she recognized the face looking down at her. They’d had, what, two conversations? “Regan sent you peach emojis. I told her too.” 

—

It was her, yup. Jade didn’t have to be a genius (but like, she was one, for the record) to realize something horrible had happened. But she did not understand. Which was weird cause… she usually got scripts in advance to work on the tone of her delivery and jot down places where she could improvise a zinger. This? She did not get. But she was good at improv too. She could work with this. It kept her on her toes. “You’re doing a great job, babe. But um, yup… maybe looking up when someone comes wasn’t the best decision if you were cosplaying a rock,” there was no shame in that though, cause being curious about noises was like, part of being human anyway. 

The way the girl continued to talk had Jade feeling like she’d jumped into the middle of the episode. But at least she was like, lying on her side now, she could see two eyes and a crack moving. (Did Cass know they were giving out millions of dollars for finding girls who could rock? She had a business idea to propose when she got back to town). She stayed in a crouching position, blinking slowly at the girl. Sometimes Jade found things. People. That was super true. She kinda prided herself on that. Cause she was nosy and persistent and annoying which were like, all the best traits to get the job done. She’d found a woman who did not think of herself a person despite having the wettest heart known to man, and a girl who wore anxiety like a uniform, in need of an older role model. She’d found a girl battling an evil Spanish bird, but who really just needed to be reminded that she was still hot. Or a guy so hardened by grief and loss that just needed someone to stick around and help him dispose of worms. She’d found a guy who was a hero undercover but all he needed was a little encouragement to believe in his bravery. Or, how she’d found the elder vampire keeping somebody a prisoner for over a century, helping to break those chains. Sometimes she found things, yup. So she was meant to find this girl somehow. But why?

She took off her jacket, the cold hitting a little cause… she was wearing one of those shirts she cut the sleeves off when Regan was in Ireland. But that didn’t matter, her arms looked great. Jade used the thinnest part of the sleeve to wipe some of the girl’s mud off her face. Some bits peeled off super fast cause of how dry they were. She couldn’t help but notice the girl carrying a suspicious-looking powder in her hands. But she was pretty sure those types of jokes were in the past, like for old sitcoms with laugh tracks. (She was gonna ask though, cause again… nosy). And oh, this girl knew Regan. But Jade did not remember her. Not cause she had a bad memory or anything, just cause the amount of people who had to hear her talk about Regan reached alarming levels, especially during the Ireland saga. The clue was in the khakis, for sure. But when did she talk about khakis… khakis, cargo pants? There was something there… “I’m Jade,” she corrected, but at the mention of peach emojis, a dopey smile bloomed on her face. “She hasn’t stopped sending them since.” She was positive Regan had “bought” another “subscription” just to send them.   

She rose to her feet (if her knees cracked, mind your business), and opened the delivery box, pulling out a water bottle. Jade left it on the ground, in front of the girl, in case she wanted it, then laid her jacket beside Rockgirl, to sit on it. She glanced down, at the pair of anguished eyes, her eyebrows pinching in concern. “Alright, who are we hating on? You’ll be surprised by how much I can despise people I don’t know.”

—

An illusion flickered around Nora. It was supposed to be a rock, like a regular rock, the kind of rock that sat on her shoulders and held her pressed to the mud. Instead, it came out as Dwayne Johnson in cargo shorts. His figure engulfed Nora for a brief moment before the power slipped past her. There was too much hunger and not enough fear to feast on. The spark of interest Nora normally greeted a stranger with, to taste their fear and see their reaction was no longer there. Just a month and a week ago this meeting would have been different. Her time in the mud would have been more akin to a wobbegong camouflaged and waiting for a meal. Her illusions would have been beautiful. “Next time,” Nora managed. She hadn’t meant to lie. There was no real reason to put empty words into the universe, but the effort to say ‘There will be no next, I’ll rot here. I can’t keep going.’ was too much and too pointless, just like her hunts. 

Jade moved closer. A hand reached towards her. Nora tensed, closing in around the bag, assuming the universe was going to take Declan away from her again. That wasn’t what happened. Nora shouldn’t be surprised by kindness. It was everywhere. It existed in the world, but she’d crawled off like a kicked puppy and refused to see it. She ran from kindness as if it would skin her alive, and leave her flayed body for all to see. It was rude of her, to trick one more person into being kind to her. But she didn’t move away as Jade used her jacket to wipe away the mud. She didn’t warn Jade that feral animals shouldn’t be handled. 

“Jade. Scared of cargo pants” The words filed from her memory. Why did Nora only remember what people were scared of? Hadn’t there been more to the conversation? Weren’t people made up of more than their fears? “But when you wear them, it’s fashion.” Besides, who was actually scared of cargo pants? They were just pants. Nora ripped the mental index card in half. Hadn’t they been talking about Regan? Back when Nora was trying to keep Regan from leaving? The cargo pants were probably just a deflection, but she’d snapped up the information, clinging to any fear of those around her. 

Bits of the conversation were coming back to Nora. If Jade had been a better kisser, Regan would have stayed. If Regan stayed, Declan would be alive. Those were selfish and despicable thoughts. She hated them for crossing her mind. She hated that she was grasping at straws to place the blame on anyone else, including Jade who found her at the side of the road and wiped her face and offered nothing but kindness and water. I killed Declan she reminded herself. She clung to the words, branding them to her soul. Don’t forget. Don’t blame someone else. 

Still, when Jade smiled over the mention of Regan’s peach emojis, it physically hurt. Nora turned away, eyes glued to her plastic bag. “They stopped in Ireland.” The word slipped past before she could stop herself from picking at someone else’s happiness. It just wasn’t fair. She wanted to send peach emojis to Declan. She wanted to explain to him the double meaning of emojis while teaching him how to use a cellphone. She wanted that moment of laughter when they talked about how dumb it all was. The inside jokes that would spawn from the moment. The waterfalls they would send each other, and would mean I love you. But he was dead. And Regan was back in America sending peach emojis. To who? Who was Jade? Regan hadn’t mentioned her once the whole time they were there. “The only girl Regan talked about in Ireland was Duty, and Duty is a bitch.” 

Nora was aware that she was being unkind. She was a feral cat stuck in a trap hissing at the person trying to help her, but she couldn’t stop. She wanted to stop, she really did. But the pain inside her was too much and it demanded to be felt by everyone. Which really sucked because Jade was being nice. Jade was sitting in the mud next to her and still offering a kindness she didn’t deserve. Who are we hating on. Not, who are you. We. Not alone. Together. That hurt too. There were many names she could have said. Niamh. Cliodna. Ireland. “Hamst-” Nora choked on the name. It was a deflection. “Nora.”

—

Upon closer inspection, Jade realized what filled the bag looked very similar to ashes. Nope, they were literal ashes. So, the plot thickened. Something told her that prop would become relevant later in the scene. So she didn’t push, she barely acknowledged it. Instead, her face brightened at the recognition. “Yup! That’s me. I’m like, doing so much better when it comes to cargo pants. I even bought some recently,” and it felt so nice, not to fear anything else at all. Jade was pretty much invincible like that.  

But the smile faltered when Ireland was brought up, and the wheels started turning (the ones in her brain, not Roxie’s). This depressed girl had gone to Ireland, knew about Regan. And with Elias and Wynne already accounted for, Jade realized who she was speaking to: The ham child (HamC for short). Her frown deepened and this weird thing called guilt set in the pit of her stomach. In a way, HamC was acting like that cause of her. In the same way Elias injuries could be traced back to her. And Regan’s wings. And Wynne’s extra cult trauma. Cause Jade didn’t try hard enough to make Regan stay. Was she gonna bring the mood down even lower? Nope. She was supposed to be running from that stuff. So of course, she kept things superficial. “Oh, yeah… we hate that girl too. She’s stupid”. 

The final piece of the puzzle she needed was delivered in the form of a name: Nora. But by that point, Jade had already completed everything in her head. She’d found Nora, Emilio’s missing kid. And Nora spoke in third person, which Jade was definitely digging. It had the makings of a great philosophical moment for all involved. And sure, she could have considered reaching inside the pocket of her jeans, pulling out her phone and immediately giving Emilio a call. But the thought didn’t cross her mind. Cause she knew how cats worked. Not just Melody and Lullaby but like, most of the people in her life had real cat personalities. You had to let them come to you. She looked away, focusing on the wheels of her motorcycle. 

“Oh. It’s that kinda party” Jade nodded in understanding. She thought of Van (nope, that was a mistake) (forget about Van). She thought of that day outside Sly Slice when she’d had to console… a super anxious girl. “Okay. Alright! But those parties are like, for a limited time only, you know? It can’t go on forever. We have to wrap it up at the end. Then we schedule for another time. But you have to let me know, so I can bring snacks” Actually, maybe she did have snacks. Didn’t she steal a bag of onion rings from her last delivery? Mmm… they were probably soggy and… wait, focus. “What are we hating Nora for?” 

—

Vindication filled Nora when Jade agreed that she hated Nora. Those words felt right, they felt better than the kind things she’d ran away from. They felt like the new future she’d planned for herself. The shadow with Declan’s voice hated Nora. Nora hated Nora. Everyone should hate Nora. Thank you, Jade, for hating Nora too. Everything about this made the universe feel right. She was on the right path. Leave until her trail turned to dust. Maybe she could go to Canada and live out her life as a polar bear. Polar bears were known for being solitary, only coming together for mating seasons and if like a whale got washed up and made for a large meal. Nora could live as a solitary bear in the Arctic. She didn’t mind the cold. It made her like, sleepy, but if she slept her whole life then she could live in a dream where Declan and her were under their waterfall. And that felt right too. 

But Jade wasn’t done talking. Jade sounded like the color orange. Which was weird, because her name was Jade and Jade was a shade of green. You would think if a person was named after a color, they would be that color. But before Declan, people hadn’t been colors. They had been fears. But now Nora couldn’t look at people as nothing more than their fears, they were more than that. And Jade was orange. Orange was a color of disconnected warmth. It was the base to a sunrise and a faraway light on a moonless night. It was the bonfire burning in the center of friends. It was a place to go if you worked for it, but it wasn’t overwhelming and it wouldn’t chase you down. 

It was also the color of pumpkin spice lattes. Nora wondered if those were the snacks Jade would bring to the next party. “Why? I mean, why end the party and reschedule? Why tell anyone? Why bring snacks?” The things Jade said were absurd enough that it drew the curiosity out of Nora. It was easier to respond to these abstract ideas than responding to things like ‘live to mourn.’ and ‘grief is a solitary and hard path.’  

What are we hating Nora for? What didn’t we? Nora figured Jade had no clue who she was. There weren’t pictures on the internet connecting her to the ham account. And to most people, she was some variant of ham (an idea that twisted painfully in her stomach), as far as she knew Regan had no clue what her name was. She knew Jade was friendly to Van and Emilio, but both knew she hated being called her name and she trusted both of them not to betray her name to anyone. So to Jade, she was probably just some weird rock girl. Anonymity was a beautiful thing. That’s what the internet has been teaching people for decades now. You could say anything anonymously and it didn’t count. “She killed someone I loved. She thought she could go and save someone, but instead, she got someone I loved killed.” Nora let out a harsh bark of laughter. “And she didn’t even save the original person. That person chose to save themselves.” 

—

Nora had excellent questions all around. If this had been a TV show they would’ve made for a great unlikely duo that ends up winning the audience. Alas, their show might have gotten canceled after a season cause they had too niche of a following. Jade nodded, answers ready like she’d had this conversation before. “Cause… I mean. All parties come to an end. The next day will come, and we gotta keep getting that bread. Metaphorically. We gotta keep trucking along. We got work, or school, or even, the premiere of a show we’ve been waiting on. So yesterday’s party is done and dusted. But then there are like, people who are excited to come to the next party, who’ve been waiting to receive an invite. So you gotta make sure you let them know. Plus, there are the people who wanna help you clean up after too. It’s just basic decency to let people know about your parties, everyone gets FOMO.” 

Jade reached down, taking some crusty pieces of what once was mud off of Nora’s hair. Then brushed the strands off her face. “I can help with the party. But we’re gonna need backup for all the mess that’s gonna get left behind, we’re gonna need the people who will hold your hair while you puke and swear you’re never touching vodka again, the people who will help you hide the broken vases” she shuddered at the memory. “That’s the point of parties, I guess. The more people are there for you, the better. We don’t want a party to flop.” She looked down at her boots thinking of how many of her own parties had flopped. How many times she’d begged for partygoers to just show up. And when no one was interested, how she’d resorted to finding strangers in bad places just to fill that void… but, anywhoosies! She was not the host of this party. 

And like, she always knew the reason Nora was out here becoming one with nature wasn’t a happy one. Elias looked a mess, Regan was put through the wringer. Wynne… Jade didn’t wanna think about them for too long, but they had to be in similar conditions. She’d heard of stabbings and wings cut off, even of death in that vague way Regan explained things, but… Nora was connected to it? She did not have uplifting quotes stolen from Instagram for this. She didn’t even have Facebook quotes with minions in the background. That’s how dire it was. She let out a tired sigh. “Oh, babe. That sucks ass. I’m so sorry.” The understatement of the century, probably. But it was the truth. And she was trying to be truthful this day.  

She glanced down at Nora, thinking about how many times Emilio must’ve begged for her to come back. All the many times Van wondered where she was. Jade was stubborn, she knew that sometimes there was no way to sway a woman with conviction. A quality she admired, but that always came at the cost of the most painful lessons. (She thought of the other stubborn woman in her life, and the wings she didn’t have anymore as a result). And of course, there was still the Nora they had to hate on. Who was different from the Nora who blamed herself for everything. It was a little tricky, but separating the two was also kinda smart. Jade hugged her knees, conceding. Sometimes all that worked was anger. (It wasn’t something she enjoyed, but she couldn’t deny its effectiveness). 

“Mmm, that’s reason enough to dunk on Nora, yup. But like, are we also hating on the real person behind it? That was a very specific way of phrasing what they did, you know? Would it… do you feel like, maybe… I’m like, spitballing here, hear me out. It was the fault of like, the actual murderer too? Multitasking our hatred and all…” she tilted her head curiously. “I get it though, not the murdering… I’ve never murdered anyone,” on account of those people already being dead. “I get that… Sometimes, intentions don’t matter, right? We still end up messing up. We are reduced and judged by the end result.” Her thoughts drifted to Van, as they usually did these days. All Jade had were good intentions, but in Van’s eyes… what she did was messed up. What she did helped no one. It only got people killed too. “I do think they should. Matter, I mean. Intentions. Like, Nora believing someone could be saved? Nora having hope things could change? Diving head first with her heart? That’s not a crime” In fact, that was the whole reason Jade had Regan back. How could she live with herself if she didn’t help to piece at least one portion of that broken heart? “But ya know… she still did that to you. We’re still printing photos and defacing her face. So… what punishment should Nora get?” She did promise it would be a joint effort, after all. “It can’t be physical, cause I’m a little bruised from… falling off my bike, and you’re literally a rock,” she thought of Emilio again, and got ahead of the curve. “We can’t banish her either, cause like… I’m sure Nora has people who wanna see her again so… let’s brainstorm.”

—

Jade spoke with her whole body, her words marked a cadence and all of her being fell in accordingly. Expressive, that was it. Capable of giving an impassioned monologue to the rock on the side of the road. The studio audience hmmed and awwed over the impassioned speech about parties. Nora tried to picture the party Jade was talking about. It was at the graveyard, a few of her favorite ghosts showed up. Jade was there, next to an orange crackling campfire. She held a drink in one hand as she spoke to Emilio, because Emilio had to be paired at the party with someone who would do all the talking, the drink would spill as she talked. Jade wouldn’t notice, maybe, but Emilio would and he’d scowl about it. Maybe Jade would like annoying Emilio, and spill the drink more and more on purpose until he threw back the rest of his drink and limped away. She’d wondered if they’d be friends. 

Van would be explaining Candy Crush and Honkai: Star Rail to Metzli. Metzli had asked about gaming before, and Van would be a lot better at explaining it. She’d download the games onto Metzli's phone, add herself as a friend, and walk Metzli through the first steps. Lelia would be watching with a smile. Cass would corner Thea about comic books, and Thea would be too polite to excuse herself from Cass’s in-person fanfiction read. She’d do her best to be kind. Cass would love to have someone to talk to. Teddy would have a crowd around them, start a round of singing, all eyes on them but in a way that was endearing and not try hard annoying like men playing Wonderwall on guitar. They would get Wynne to sing with them, and Wynne would be shy at first, but Ariadne would smile across that orange crackling campfire, and join in. They’d be happy. It would be a beautiful party. 

But Nora wasn’t there. Nora didn’t see how she could fit herself in that space. Ask them to forgive her. Ask them to hold her hair while she cried on their shoulders. Ask them to hold her steady while the world shatters away. It was a beautiful party, and she hoped Jade would meet her friends and throw it for them, but she couldn’t be there. The thought caused a panic to ripple in her chest, up her throat, leak down her eyes. She turned her face away, “FOMO.” Nora repeated. She was glad her friends were missing out on this one. “Can’t always be bad. I don’t think they want to be rocks at the side of the road.” That was reductive, and Nora knew it. Another day, another inability to listen to people who only wanted to help her. A fresh wave of self-hatred washed over her. Maybe it was time to wrap up the pity party. And do what? Be who? Go where? Jade had foreseen that as well. She sat next to Nora, in the mud, face full of concern, heart open to a stranger on the side of the road, and said “let’s brainstorm.”

Nora blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. The studio audience was applauding. The credits threatened to start rolling because Nora had no clue what to say. Brainstorm over her punishment with someone who didn’t know that she was who was getting punished? The static in her mind made it hard to think. She had to put every effort into moving her sluggish thoughts anywhere. Blame the actual murderer? The image of Niamh, blade in hand, flashed across Nora’s mind. The picture of Cliodhna, praising Nora for being exceptional. A view of Regan, jealous. That was unfair. That was unkind. Nora pushed that thought away. And wasn’t Nora a real murderer? She’d come to terms with Debbie’s death, and she’d saved the lives of her friends, but murderer would always be a correct adjective when it came to her. But saying she’d dove in with her heart? That intention should matter? Those words struck a chord, a nice melody, it ignited a small flame of hope. It was orange. 

“Why do you care?” Nora asked because they weren’t an unlikely duo staring on ABC Family. A commercial break hadn’t interrupted their conversation. The director hadn’t shouted cut before slathering fresh mud onto Nora’s face and resetting her face down. This was life. Jade didn’t need to be the color orange, offering a light in the dark. She could have gotten on her bike and drove away. Later on, she could have joked with her friends about the girl pretending to be a rock on the side of the road. The laugh track would have played. She would have been rock girl in stories for years while her body withered away in the spot, unable to move on. “Why,” It was hard to formulate the words. Why stop? Why try? Why care? Why help? “Why does it matter to you?” 

—

“Mm, you underestimate how many people just wanna be rocks at the side of the road together.” Jade knew if she asked Emilio, if she asked Van if they’d rather be rocks for a chance to get Nora back there’d be like a… (what was the collective noun of rocks?) a pile (duh) of rocks on the side of the road. Why do you care? That was, of course, one of the questions of the hour. Why would Jade put her day on hold cause of a huge rock on the side of the road, (turned girl covered in mud) and then change plans to sit with her to contemplate things? Why? Why would a rock girl stuff herself into a suitcase and get smuggled into Ireland for a woman who didn’t wanna hear anyone out? Why? They could be out here ping-ponging these sorta questions for a while. Jade's stamina for arguing had only met a few decent matches recently, but she still came out on top.  

“I want… to believe in good intentions” I need to, would’ve been more accurate. Jade needed to believe that she didn’t do horrible things to people, (people, they were people… or er, something in between) (maybe not just monsters with curses) just for the sake of it. She wanted to believe she had goodness in mind, in her heart. That she was honoring her duty first and foremost: She wanted to protect humans above everything. Keep them safe. Jade needed to believe she wasn’t just some weapon, like Metzli had called her. An instrument, like Regan called herself. This was different, she’d chosen this life. She had. And she wanted (had) to keep doing it. How would that look? She wasn’t sure. But Nora didn’t need her baggage on top of her Ireland trauma. (Stupid Ireland). And shoot… tangent over. 

Jade thought of the emergency letter she had written Regan. When someone couldn’t think about themselves, they had to think of others. It was easier for Jade to ponder on her own situation through someone like Nora. It might be easier for Nora to open up about a different Nora. It was weird, but if it worked, then… was it weird anyway? Weird wasn’t a bad thing. And actually, why would she not care? How did that even look like? She couldn’t imagine. All she’d done her whole life was caring. (In a totally chill, not intense way!). Jade looked at the girl, sympathy kicking her heart. (ouch). She let out a weary sigh. “Besides. Here’s the real kicker. I owe Nora a lot. I might owe her for the rest of my life, even. So I’d like a chance… to tell her that. Cause her good intentions got the woman I love back” She glanced at the bag in Nora’s hands, fully aware she was playing with fire. She was always a bit of a daredevil anyway. “I’d like to tell her it wasn’t in vain. That her good intentions mean everything to me. Which is like, so selfish. But that’s fine, I’ll own up to that right now” She had worse things to come to terms with on the waiting list, anyway.

She cleared her throat (allergies), letting a moment of reflection pass for both of them. “You deflected from punishment, by the way. So maybe in some twisted way, you already know Nora’s got enough punishment coming her way. And that’s fine. If Nora wants punishment she should face it. Cause she sucks.” But she didn’t have to face it by turning into a rock on the side of the rock. That was easy, in a way. Comfy. Just neglecting everything and everyone. Way less energy. The super hard stuff? That might be coming to terms with the fact that people will always care. Even when you don’t want them to. Even when you can’t care for yourself. (She couldn’t relate. Everyone she cared for left when they heard of her ‘good intentions’) (But it was really nice that Nora had that going on). She thought of Van, for like, the hundredth time, missing her best friend. She thought of Emilio, losing another one of his kids. Holding onto the hope that this one might return to him soon.

And Jade? She could still have good intentions. She could still care, even if Nora fought her, even if it didn’t make sense to her. She pointed at her bike, eyes narrowed. “That’s Roxie. I’ve had her for like, three… maybe four years? Lots of people consider it torture. It goes so fast, some people can’t stand it,” like her own little rollercoaster from hell. “It can take us into places that would be considered torture. Sorry, punishment. It can lead Nora to face the people who care for her, even though she doesn’t deserve them obviously, cause we hate her. But having to look at them in their loving, forgiving eyes? Feels punishment enough.” And Jade was quickly transported to the small bathroom in Regan’s bathroom, where she had to look at a wreck that could’ve very well been her own doing, had they not crossed paths. Had they not fallen in love. She swallowed the tightness in her throat (guilt), glancing down at Nora, to sell her on her nightmare bike. “Plus, lots of people puke with the bumpy rides. Which is so weird, cause I’m a great driver?” a smile reached her lips, small and patient. (Cause how else could she smile to a girl who lost her whole world recently?) “I’m just saying, that’s one certified torture right there. The rest of her sentence? We can figure out as we go”.

— 

In an alternate universe, they were rocks on the side of the road. Intentions didn’t matter, because rocks didn’t have any. Nora looked at Jade, and this time she really looked. She ripped herself out of her self-absorbed pity party and forced herself into the present moment; mud-covered, hungry, in pain, and full of pain, but alive. She painted this moment in her mind because she knew one day she’d need to look back and remember. 

Jade, the gem, formed over the years under extreme heat and pressure. For the briefest moment, while she committed her paint strokes to memory, and examined Jade in her entirety, Nora thought she could read the woman perfectly. She was a gem made of years under extreme heat and pressure to live by the good intentions that she wanted to believe in. There was a sadness of something unspoken. But optimism had polished her, Jade, into something that shined through it all. And as that moment stretched, Nora wanted to ask how she’d gotten there. How, in a world of endless possibilities, did she end up the polished gem she was today? What had shaken her belief in good intentions and left her wanting to believe, and not fully believing? What was the unspoken story that hid under the shiny polished edge and lived at the side of the road, covered in mud? But the words stuck in her throat, buried by the weight of existence, held down by the shadow. She wasn’t ready, but in that glittering moment, she thought that one day she might be. She just had to stick around long enough to get there. 

Jade was still speaking, and Nora understood what Regan saw in her. How the two of them had formed. The balance that must have been made between their two wildly different personalities. And Nora liked that Jade was selfish about her love because she would have been the same if given the chance. She was glad to see Jade knew how lucky she was. It meant something, even if Nora wasn’t sure what that something was yet. And finally, Nora realized her identity had never been a secret. Jade knew who Nora was this whole time and had simply been playing along. Another small mercy given to the girl who deserved none. Past Nora would have been ashamed, angry, or embarrassed about this. This Nora was just grateful that Jade had played along with a rock at the side of the road. She was too tired to be anything else. 

Jade was a good person. This world was full of good people if you only found them. Nora wished desperately that those good people had been in Ireland with Declan. To show him the love he deserved, and give him a life full of happiness. But wishes were a dime a dozen and Nora was out of pocket change. She rubbed at her eyes, spreading more dirt than doing any good, but she was lost in this unexpected gift Jade had given her. She’d given Nora proof that her good intentions hadn’t been just ash and dirt. It was Regan and Jade. It was the smile as Jade said Regan still sent her peach emojis. And it hurt, but it wasn’t all bad. There was some good in that hurt knowing that some people had faired the trials better than she did. She had tried, and wasn’t that more than most people? 

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Nora agreed, following the statement with a nod. She was a newborn foal getting to her feet. Her bones rattled with the effort, and each moment she thought she’d pitch back into the mud. But Jade helped, and one foot found its way in front of the other until Jade and Nora were on Roxie. The wind whistled its approval as it tugged at Nora’s torn clothes. She held Declan close, making sure the wind wouldn’t rip him away. She cried on the way back, and she was grateful Jade couldn’t see behind her. She braced herself for the upcoming punishment of facing everyone who loves her, and the weight of pain that would come with facing them after everything that had happened. The studio audience cheered. Royalty-free music chased them out of frame. The credits rolled.  

[endlessevenings]

Food to Meet You || Daiyu & Mahuika

TIMING: current LOCATION: a latte to love PARTIES: @bountyhaunter & @endlessevenings SUMMARY: daiyu is the unfortunate recipient of mahuika's desire to chill. the two actually get along! CONTENT: passing mention of infidelity

It was the middle of the day. A Latte to Love (which, stupid and ridiculously cheesy name, right?) was far busier than she would’ve wanted. Mahuika had half a mind to make people decide to leave, but she was trying to turn over a new leaf, or something (she wasn’t). However, her gaze zero-ed in on a woman sitting by herself. At a small table, probably chosen because she didn’t want anybody else around.

Luckily, Mahuika didn’t really choose to pay attention to things that didn’t fit with her vibe.

So once she’d gotten her extra-hot-extra-chocolate-mocha, she wandered over, dragged her fingers across the chair opposite the woman. “Can I sit?” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s nowhere else to go. Please?”

—

Her earbuds were slotted perfectly in her ears, music pumping through them as Daiyu scrolled through her phone. She was here to be productive and take stock of her financial situation, but it wasn’t working out. Not even while sitting in a coffeeshop filled with people tapping away on their little stupid laptops. No, she’d not even opened her notebook and calculator app. She was just tapping away on Reddit, arguing with a stranger about something she hadn’t been passionate about up until fifteen minutes ago. So it went.

Even her drink (a caramel frozen latte) was abandoned in favor of the fight, so when she spotted someone’s fingers on the chair across from her and saw her mouth move she was pulled from her thoughts.

Daiyu pulled out one of her airpods, caught the last of what she was saying. She pulled her legs (which she’d stretched out under the table) up and nodded. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.” She’d prefer to say no, but she was a little taken by surprise. She considered plopping the earbud back in. “They gotta add more seating spaces here, it’s always so fucking busy.”

—

“You’re the best.” Mahuika grinned before sitting down. “It’s way too busy, right? I mean I can’t speak from tons of experience, I sometimes just get coffee to go, but you’d think a place with this much success and this complete lack of space would give thought to expand, right?” She was just talking to talk at this point, but she had a good voice and her opinions were at least relatively well curated, so her talking was good, and the woman across the table from her was bound to be grateful for her company, even if her face didn’t show it quite yet.

She tapped her nails against the coffee cup. The sound was satisfying, and it gave her time to think about what to say next (not that she was really in doubt of what to say, but it was good to give that illusion, and to be prepared for if she ever was in doubt).

“You come here often?” It sounded like a line, but that wasn’t something Mahuika was interested in right now. “I’m Mahuika.” She stuck her hand across the table in at least some level of excessive enthusiasm and an attempt to hold an aura of welcoming vibes or something. “Also do you want like, a muffin or something to eat? Least I can do, since you’ve been so nice as to let me take over some of your personal space. I heard the banana-blueberry ones are to die for. Not literally, of course.” A stifled and seemingly awkward giggle escaped her lips. “I was feeling hungry, so I was gonna maybe get some sort of tempeh sandwich anyhow, and I’d be totes down to get something for you, too!”

—

Daiyu hadn’t the foggiest idea about when or how a business should expand. Her brother and sister had gotten the entrepreneurial gene, but it had fully skipped over her. She didn’t mind it much, there were other shortcomings that were worse. “Yeah, absolutely,” she said, with feigned confidence, as she’d always back up whatever she’d said even if it was completely nonsensical. “So many people, ridiculous.”

The sound of the other’s nails on the coffee cup went right against the beat of her music and she wasn’t sure whether she should take the other out or put them both in again. She should just go back to getting take out in her car. But then there were her finances …

She pulled out her airpod, as it seemed the other was in a chatty mood. Daiyu took the extended hand, shook it. “Daiyu.” Mahuika seemed nice, if not a little eager and it wasn’t like she hated people — it was just that she wasn’t particularly good at talking to them without starting something. But luckily the other spoke her love language. Food. “Oh, I won’t refuse a free muffin,” she said shamelessly. “I’ll take that one, yeah. Sounds healthy. Got a bunch of fruit and stuff.” She sunk back in her chair a little, put her phone down. “It really is the least you could do.”

—

“It really is!” Not that Mahuika had half an idea about how to run a business, nor did she have any intention of ever running one, but it felt good to say things with confidence. It could make them true, and even if they weren’t, she sounded competent and that was good enough for her. Or at least good enough of a start. Not good enough in the long run, but being at the start didn’t necessitate being in the long run, so she was chill with that.

“Awesome, swell, cool.” She wanted to slap herself across the face for how she sounded. “The sugar must already be getting to me, I’ll go and get your muffin and my sandwich all lickety split. Be right back!” She set the business card of some lady who’d been staying at Bearcliff and who had told Mahuika to contact her if she ever wanted to talk about other jobs (bleh, gag – the lady was in HR or something too, which double yikes), but it would do well to make sure that nobody messed with her mocha. Not that she thought Daiyu would, but other people? You could never be too sure.

In almost no time, she had made her way back over, muffin on a plate in one hand, sandwich in the other. “God, I was totally starving. Famished, you know?” She took a big bite of her sandwich, marveling at how good it actually was before she focused back on the other woman. “So what do you do for work? I work at the Bearcliff Motel. Not like, way exciting or whatever, but it does the job, and sometimes I get tips, so that’s… chill.” Mahuika shook her head. “Plus, it gives me time to read and learn on my own clock.”

—

Daiyu was never sure if she hated or loved busy places. She liked the sounds of other people, but sometimes it all seemed to drill into her head aggressively, leaving her defenseless against all the stimuli. Right now, as the other passed through positive words as if searching for the right one, she found herself amused. Sometimes humans could be so endearing, right? It made her feel like watching a toddler jump in puddles, drenching the clothes of them and their parent alike as they both laughed. Observing the pretty simplicity of life without partaking. 

“See you soon,” she said, curling her lips into a grin as she fiddled with her airpod case, clicking it open and shut, open and shut. The conversations of others droned in her ears and she tried to block it out as she waited, not wanting to know about Lucy’s ex or Jonathan’s new job. This was part of why it so often felt like she was more observer than partaker — her heightened senses weren’t made for hanging in bars, but rather for tracking in the woods. Still, she grinned as the other sat down again. “Awesome. And yeah, I get you, I feel like there’s a void in my stomach that’s never filled.”

Daiyu picked at her muffin, taking a piece off and stuffing it in her mouth. Mahuika asked her about her job and she wanted to slam her head on the table. “Oh, cool, what do you do? Clean rooms and shit or deal with the people at the front desk?” She couldn’t imagine a worse job at the moment. “What’re you learning about?” This also seemed like a horrible thing. To read during work. Double punishment. “I’m a food critic,” she said, taking a demonstrative bite. It wasn’t a lie. She was very critical about food. She just wasn’t paid for it. “Not working now, though! But this muffin def gets a good rating from me regardless. Anyway, work’s work. Work sucks. What do you do beside work?”

—

She had to be doing something right, considering the other woman was smiling. So, score one for her, Mahuika supposed. Not that she was keeping score of how successful she was at life (except that she totally was), but there was often something satisfying about being able to get people to act just as she wanted them without whipping out her magic. It meant she had power all her own, just like her parents had said. Though thinking about her parents nearly immediately soured her mood, and so she pushed those thoughts away. She could stew in her thoughts later, back in her apartment, when she was alone, but right now that would totally destroy the vibe. 

“Same. I’m just always so hungry.” Which was half true, but it was the right thing to say, and Mahuika could always eat. Something something filling a void that she couldn’t fill otherwise. Which couldn’t be true, right? She was plenty full of everything. (Including, perhaps, herself, but that wasn’t a rabbit hole she was going to follow anytime soon!)

“I do both actually. Front desk and also clean rooms. It’s … well, it’s boring, but it’s something, and not that I’m one to follow gossip or rumors, but I do get to know a whole lot of things just because of where I work, which is kinda rad.” Mahuika grinned. “I’m reading about Physics. It’s my favorite subject, but I figure I might go and try one of those Emily Henry novels sometime. See what all the hype on TikTok is about.” What did she do besides work? “Oh! I like going clubbing sometimes. Also for hikes, because, like, nature, you know? I only moved here back in like July,” (never mind that she’d lived outside the town most of her life), “so even though it’s been a while, I guess I’m still looking for what the cool stuff to do is. What do you do?”

—

The muffin was really good and Daiyu bit off another bite, this one larger. She chewed as she talked, “Sometimes I do get stuffed, of course, when I get a full meal but even then I always know I’m just gonna get hungry again. Not the worst, though, considering there’s so much banger food out there.” She chased her muffin with a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, well it sure is something. What kinda things do you hear? Get a lot of criminal activity? Affairs?” She’d slept in her fair share of motels over the years and seen some funny stuff — things that could be disturbing to others, too. “Oh, cool. I don’t really read a lot, to be honest, don’t have the attention span for it.” And she was bad at reading, but that was an easy to omit fact. “Physics is like … about gravity and shit, right? Well I know about that.” She grinned, a little dopey. “Hikes are great, I love those too. Just get out in nature, stretch your legs and all. Perfect. Clubs are …” She grimaced. “Loud. But you do you.” Daiyu pulled her notebook to her, deposited it in her bag. “I’ve only been here a few months myself, first time in town. Figuring stuff out as well. But yeah, I like to hike. Watch movies. I like my dog.”

—

“There really is. People limit themselves way too much with what foods they eat, but it’s a relief to see that you aren’t one of those people.” Was it possible that she was actually just getting along with someone, even without trying too hard. There was a sort of magic in food (though not actual magic, and the people who claimed as such were idiots) and maybe that was bringing the two of them together in conversation. Mahuika took another bite of her sandwich and quickly chased it with her drink.

“Yes – to both of those, actually. But sometimes also people who’re like, running away. Which I get, if you have a shit situation at home, running away can be the best option.” Or even if your life seemed picture perfect but your family were a bunch of lame cowards, but Mahuika wasn’t exactly about to say that. Not to mention she hadn’t really run away. Not far, at least. If her family wanted to, they could find her. But she didn’t want them to, and so far her wish had come true. “So valid, not everyone can have the attention span for it, but I guess I just was bored a lot as a kid and books were always there, so…” she trailed off, lost in thought for a brief moment before she shook her head and returned to the conversation at hand. “It is about gravity and shit. I just think it’s a fascinating science, and I like finding answers and making stuff make sense,” (which was true, at least in a way) “nature is the best. Also something you can always count on. I mean, weather and shit can be unpredictable, but I’m betting you get what I’m saying. Clubs are loud.” Which was part of why she liked them. That and drunk people usually didn’t question what they were doing. “Movies are good. I have a cat and a rat. I like them. They’re good company.”

—

“Yeah, like I get having comfort foods, but you’ve gotta try new stuff and be experimental. Life’s bland without good food!” She plopped another bite of the muffin into her mouth. Daiyu wasn’t the best at non-confrontational conversations, as she hadn’t had many of those in her life, but there were a few safe topics. Food, dogs and shitty movies. The weather, maybe, at times. “How’s the sandwich?”

The subject of people allegedly having families they wanted to run away from was something Daiyu really didn’t feel like addressing. Wasn’t that how she ended up in motels? Why she was in this town? Putting miles and miles between herself and her family in an attempt of separation. Not that she was running away, though — a deep buried part of her was afraid of what would happen should she try to sever ties definitively. Her father’s hands were like claws holding onto all that was his already.

“That’s not really fun gossip, though. Guess that’s nice that you offer a place, though. Should give discounts.” She stuffed her mouth again so that she didn’t have to say anything more (not that eating was a deterrent from talking usually). “Ah, shit yeah, I get that. I mean, I did ‘read’ as a kid.” Daiyu used physical air quotes. “As in, I liked to look at the pictures in the books we had.” But she’d always taken to the violence best, not the study. In a way it made her a good hunter. “Oh, valid. I just don’t try to question things I don’t get, you know? It works.” She sat back a little, splitting her muffin into little bitesize pieces. “Yeah, it’s always there. Nature, I mean. Consistent like that. No opening hours or whatever.” She let out a laugh. “A cat and a rat? And the cat doesn’t eat the rat, like Tom and Jerry? I mean, that’s a mouse, but still. That’s awesome. What’re they called?”

—

“I agree. Life’ll be all boring if you don’t try new stuff!” She nodded. “The sandwich is great. It’s perfectly flavored and the bread isn’t even like, stale or dry or whatever? Which is amazing.” So maybe Mahuika was, once again, falling back in her habits of being too cheery, but at least this time she was far more tempered with it all, and the woman didn’t seem to mind, and so she kept going.

“Oh yeah, that’s not fun gossip.” Mahuika made a face. She might’ve not always been even close to the nicest of people, but even she knew that taking joy in someone else’s bad situation (when you didn’t cause it, that was) was a bit over-the-top movie-villain cruel. So she didn’t take joy. Not usually. Rarely. And if she did, she didn’t do so outwardly. Because that was lame and also could just get her into trouble and she very much didn’t want to get into trouble. “Pictures are like, super cool, so I get that. Plus, there’s that saying that a picture’s worth some huge number of words, so you’re just like, way more efficient or like more advanced than the rest of us, maybe?”

“Yes, a cat and a rat, and no, they don’t.” The rat was her familiar, so maybe the cat just got that? Not that Mahuika was going to explain that to the stranger. “They’re called Cat and Rat. Except Cat’s the rat and Rat’s the cat. I just wanted to be quirky or whatever when I named them, I guess?” She shrugged. “What’s your dog's name? We should also totally chill again when we’re not getting crowded out by college students, yeah?”

—

She took a mental note that the sandwiches at a Latte to Love were good rather than asking for a bite, which she was admittedly very tempted to do. “Absolutely. Hate dry bread, though, yikes. So good to know the sandwiches here slap.” Daiyu was glad with her muffin, though, as it had a nice kind of stickiness and was hitting a sweet spot – literally.

“I’ll want to know all about the hot goss, though,” she said, “Maybe not here.” She was still bothered by Jonathan going on about his job. She longed for her airpods. She clicked the case open and shut again. She nodded fervently, “Abso-fucking-lutely. I’m pretty much just a genius because I just look at pictures and don’t read books, you’re absolutely right.” It was a fun line of thinking, anyway.

Daiyu thought a cat and a rat being called Rat and Cat respectively was the height of comedy and so she laughed. “That’s fucking amazing. I love that. You weren’t being quirky, you were being hilarious. And the way they’re friends, that’s amazing too.” She pulled up her phone, showed her background. “This is Nugget. He’s the best. Clever as hell, and fast as a whip.” She stuck the last bit of her muffin into her mouth. Jonathan was still buzzing in her ear. A head ache was setting on. She didn’t want to grow agitated when things were going pretty well, so she said, “Find me online, yeah? I need to get to a work thing but we should keep this ball rolling.” She grabbed the wrapper and balled it up. “Gonna tell them allll about this muffin. Tasted great! Appreciate ya.” She gave a salute, grabbed her coffee and bag and got up. “Great meeting you.” She did mean it. Sometimes it was nice to not sit alone.

[ariadnewhitlock]

Blue all the Time || Wynne & Ariadne

TIMING: Right after Cass died. LOCATION: A road. SUMMARY: Wynne comes to collect Ariadne after she calls them post-Cass. There's a good deal of a discussion of grief. TRIGGER WARNING: Sibling death referenced.

Wynne was alive.

Wynne was alive and Cass was dead and Ariadne wasn’t sure where she fell in that spectrum of things. She was dead, very clearly, but she was still alive. Cass hadn’t been like that. She was just dead.

Which felt too cruel, to phrase it like that. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to phrase it, in a way that kept things both true and kind. Wynne was on the phone with her, she could hear their breathing (a sound she’d committed to memory months ago) and soon enough, she heard the sound of a car pull up.

“Wynne.” She said their name the second they pulled up. Hung up, and repeated their name once they’d opened the door. “Please - help. I can’t get up.”

—

How similar yet opposite it was like the time they had driven to get Ariadne from that van. This time, too, they had taken Emilio’s car without permission. This time, too, they drove recklessly. This time, too, they could not understand what was happening just yet.

But this time, someone was dead. 

They pulled up, watched the car open and her voice plead with her. Wynne did not believe what she had said about Cass, not fully or truly, but they believed what she was saying now. They stumbled out of the car, rushing around it in a daze and finding her. Tear-stained. Lost. Struck by something familiar. 

They sat down next to her and pulled her head onto their chest, blonde hair in their face and mouth and the entirety of Ariadne close to them. “I —” It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t true. “I —” But Ariadne would not look like that if something bad hadn’t happened. “I have you.”

—

Wynne was here and she let them pull her against them. She hadn’t been able to touch Cass, so Wynne had to be here. Ariadne figured that they maybe needed some sort of code in case Wynne did die and became a ghost, so that she’d know that they were that.

“Hi.” She didn’t even turn to face them but instead just sat, pressed against their body, still shaking. 

“We were –” she began, a hiccup and a snort (and not of the fun, laugh-too-much kind), “at her cave, and she told us all to leave. I tried to stay, but she made me leave – it was dark, and I – she used a thanks I’d given her and then she saved us. Except she died.” Her body began shaking again. “We were supposed to have each other for forever. Or like, a really long time.” She didn’t know what else to say. “I’m not sure what to do. I – it’s not real. It can’t be.”

—

If this was all a lie, some elaborate and cruel prank, then Ariadne was playing her part formidably. The thing was, of course, that Wynne did not think Ariadne capable of such cruelty. Of lying to them like this. Which meant, that if she wasn’t, that there was something very true about the way she was aching in their arms.

Ariadne painted a picture of the cave and it made no sense. Why would Cass die in the cave? Had her father primed her for this, like their own had for their demise? Or had he been cruel, had the clutching hand on her shoulder become something more volatile?

They squeezed Ariadne, who spoke in the language of denial too. “You don’t have to do anything.” That they knew. There was not much else they knew. This was uncertain territory, with them not understanding what had happened and how it ever could have. “It doesn’t feel real to me either.”

—

“Okay.” She kicked her foot at the ground, at the dirt. “I don’t want it to be real.” She couldn’t help but keep repeating herself. Thankfully, she knew that Wynne wasn’t the sort of person to ever judge her, and most especially not now.

Ariadne tried to focus her thoughts, tried to focus on Wynne and the fact that they were here, she could touch them, and she could breathe in their smell. “I feel sick.” She shook her head. “No. Hollow. I think.” That made more sense to her, even if nothing made sense right now.

“We should – move. Right?” She knew that she’d need their help if she was going to stand up. “But I don’t want to leave. But we have to. Right?”

—

They nodded, even if Ariadne could not really see it. “Me neither.” And it wasn’t, not really. Cass’ death was still removed from them, like a muffled sound outside of the house that you can’t quite place. But Ariadne in their arms was real. That could not be undone.

Wynne made a humming sound, “That makes sense. And that is … okay.” There was no right or wrong, that was what people kept saying. Not the ones who had raised them, as there was only right and wrong at that place, but the ones they trusted now. “But I hope it leaves.”

They rubbed a circle on her back, going round and round. “Whatever you want. When you’re ready we can go. We can go in the car and drive home or somewhere. Or we can sit here.”

—

“I hope it does too.” But at the same time, she wasn’t sure if she really did – because what if that meant she forgot Cass forever? Ariadne didn’t think that was possible, but it was a worry that tugged at her. 

She would’ve rather tugged on ballet slipper ribbons a hundred thousand times over. Anything would’ve been better than this. Cass shouldn’t have died and Cass shouldn’t have had the father she had, and she ached for that. For the fact that her best friend had never felt included so much to the fact that when someone came and pretended (and did a good job of pretending too, because she’d been fooled just as much as Cass had) they succeeded with such ease.

“Can you help me?” She finally turned to face them, her hand immediately going to touch the curve of their jaw. “Up, to start. We – I don’t know. Can you tell me what to do?” She hoped that it wasn’t too much to ask them. Not too much to want from them. “You can sleep with me tonight, right?”

—

There was only one possible answer to Ariadne's question. “Of course,” Wynne said, moving their arm behind their girlfriend, tucking their hand underneath her shoulder. They pushed off from the ground with their free one, pulling Ariadne along with them. Once they stood, they hugged her once more, pulling her close for a moment. 

“Alright,” they said. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know what came next, except that it was life. On and on and on. Wynne tried not to think about Cass, tried not to imagine what had happened, even if they kept wondering if her dad had done this, if her dad had killed her. 

They moved towards the car, opening the passenger door. “For now you can get in, okay? And I'll drive. We can go all the way along the coast, or we can to your home, and we can sleep, if you want that. I can stay up, too.” They didn't know if they could sleep, but they'd pretend to if it brought Ariadne peace. “But now all you need to do is buckle your seatbelt.” 

—

When Wynne held her, it made standing up a little bit easier. Then again, they made everything easier, so it would figure that they could at least somewhat lessen the absolute and utter ache that she felt having lost Cass. She had them, she had someone who was her whole world – though she couldn’t think about the fact that they were human at all. Because being human meant living a max of maybe a hundred years at most, and that was so small an amount of time in compassion to her forever.

Ariadne buried her face into their shoulder. “Thank you.” She didn’t know if she could ever thank them enough, for the number of times that they had saved her, including the few where it was quite literal.

“I’ll get in the car. Maybe – maybe home. I don’t – you don’t have to sleep.” Her voice was shaky, in a way that was only barely controlled by the person next to her. “You’re here. Maybe we can just sit on the couch and have soda and just sit.” She would’ve suggested a movie, usually, but she didn’t know how useful that would be right now. “Hold each other.” Buckle the seatbelt. “Right. Yeah. I’ll – yeah.” She clicked it in. “Whose car is this?”

—

Death was a fundamental part of life, a prerequisite of sorts, and Wynne knew this. It was needed for balance and contrast, but right now all of that didn't matter. They no longer wanted to see Ariadne's face like this — scared and upset, ruined by the things she'd seen and failed to do. Had they looked like this, when they had processed the news of her brother's death? How did one handle it, to see someone they loved in this much pain? 

It was more palpable than whatever hole in the earth Cass had created. That pain would hit them later, surely, but now they only had eyes for Ariadne. Not because she was breathtaking (though she was, of course), but because she wore her pain so clearly. “You're ...” welcome, they were supposed to say, but they couldn't.  

Ariadne buckled her seatbelt and Wynne got into the other side of the car, taking a moment to take everything in. The road ahead of them. The stick shift they struggled with. The key in the ignition. “We're going home,” they said, making the decision for her, “And we'll just sit on the couch. And then we'll see.” They still didn't understand what had happened but maybe that was for the best. They tried to start the car, but failed on the first try. “Emilio's.” 

—

“That sounds good.” She wanted to be more cheery, and usually, with Wynne, she was. But right now it seemed purely impossible. Wynne wouldn’t judge her, Ariadne knew that with her whole heart, but she still wanted to be better. They deserved someone who was happier. She hadn’t ever really dealt with death – other than her own – and that hardly seemed to count, because she was still here.

Not that waking up after dying had made any sense. But Cass wasn’t going to wake up. Cass was buried and she wanted to go back and find her friend and hold her close. You couldn’t hold ghosts and she missed how it felt when Cass lay against her shoulder when then hung out.

“We’ll see.” She turned to look at them, because they were so alive and beautiful and her whole world, and they made her feel alive. Ariadne figured that right now of all times was a particularly important time to feel alive. She had to live, even if Cass would never live again. “It’s a good car.” She sniffled. “But I guess maybe we should only make out in my car. I feel like Emilio wouldn’t like it if we did that here.” She forced an awkward, half smile. “Sorry – not the time for jokes. Not that – well, you know.” She lay her hands in her lap, fiddling with them, dirt from the cave under her fingernails. “We should do something to honor her. Now – and also forever more. I think. Right?”

—

Back at home, Wynne had been taught that there was no room for grief. Once you had accepted the natural order of things – which all Protherians had – then it was a waste of energy. The dead were remembered and honored, especially those that had given their lives for a higher cause, but their loss could not bring you down. You could not allow it to. 

They knew now that it was not that simple. They accepted the existence of death, but were starting to understand that death and grief were different. Wynne wished they had any wisdom to bestow, but all they could tell Ariadne was that grief was exhausting and that there seemed to be no rules for it. Maybe they wouldn't have to tell her anything about it at all — she was dead, in a way, so maybe she already knew all there was to know.  

Wynne smiled absentmindedly, starting the car. They had no interest in making out, nor joking about it, but the fact that Ariadne was speaking with a certain lightness made them feel more assured. At least she was no longer on the side of the road. “You can do or say whatever,” they said, pulling away from the road, “Joke, or not. I don't mind. And yes. We can plant something for her. Or … just anything. Whatever you want. Whatever … whatever is right.”  

—

She knew that she was lucky – exceptionally so, unrealistically so, to not have really had many people close to her to grieve. Of course, that also came along with acknowledging the fact that she hadn’t been close to many people outside of her family while growing up, but Ariadne figured that maybe that was for the best, if this was what loss felt like. It felt dizzying and like she was on those roller coasters Chance used to refuse to go on.

He’d probably love them now. He probably did, there was no use in thinking about him in the past tense even if their relationship was different than what it once was. Even if they’d both changed so much, and in such opposite ways, even if she had technically died. But right now she needed to focus on Wynne, on Cass, on the inevitability of life going on and the fact that she was guaranteed to experience more loss for the rest of her life.

“Rock gardens are… a thing, aren’t they?” Ariadne tapped on her knees. “Something like that would probably be best for her. Because of how much she loves – loved rocks, right? I don’t know.” She looked over to Wynne, watching their profile as they drove. “I love you.” It wasn’t anything new, nor anything fancy, but it felt good to say. I love you. Please don’t leave me. I wish you could live forever. Except, because they were human, the only way for them to live forever was for them to die – at least as far as she was aware – and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even if a part of her (and a bigger part than she cared to admit) selfishly did want that. “One day at a time, right?”

—

Their chest was heavy with unsaid things. Wynne wanted to take away this day, erase it from existence and go back to rearrange everything so it could be avoided. Even if the it was still unclear to them, the entirety of Cass' existence being undone sounding like an alternate reality still. The wish to turn back time was still overwhelming, though, but there was no doing such thing. There was just the metaphorical and literal road ahead.

At least Ariadne was next to them. They tried to focus on that, to not think about all the people that loved Cass. Did Van know already? They imagined calling her, then remembered Ariadne had mentioned Van during the phone call. So where was Van? Where was Metzli? Wynne looked over to Ariadne, pressing their lips together. What about Thea? And Nora —

They felt something constrict in their chest, thinking about how Nora already was so weighed down by the loss of Declan and would have to swallow another loss now. Their vision was starting to blur through tears and they sniffled, blinking to rid themself of the tears, not wanting to become more of a reckless driver than they already were. “Rock garden,” they echoed, “She'd like that.” They drove slowly, reaching out a hand to squeeze Ariadne's leg softly. “One day at a time.” There was a small hiccup. “And I love you too.” If only love was enough to compensate for the ache shared between them, but even this thing they felt for Ariadne wasn't strong enough to fill the gap.

—

Her world was spinning, but as in so many other cases, Wynne was a stabilizing force. They always were, and Ariadne wondered if it was selfish to think such a thing, but her parents had said that it was a sure sign of meant-to-be, or something along those lines. Which she was grateful for. She figured that they kept each other balanced and safe, in many different ways.

So they would survive this, even if her grief was eating at her insides, as if clawing itself to get out, like some sort of even more twisted version of Pandora’s box. She knew the myths, her parents had made sure of that. It seemed pretty silly for someone with her name to not know anything about myths. Cass hadn’t been a Cassandra, though she wondered all the same if she would’ve listened if her Cass, not Cassandra, but her Cass a-k-a Cassidy had said the world was going to end, would she listen? Ariadne liked to hope so, but now she also knew that she’d never know for absolute certainty. The many parts of her life that would never have answers because of her best friend’s father were too overwhelming to think about.

“I thought she might. We can do painted rocks, maybe. Maybe –” she shook her head. “We’ll – we can figure something out.” She placed her hand on top of theirs. “One day at a time. We just have to make sure people know she was a hero. Like, everyone. We know, but – the town should know. Because she – she was.” She settled her head back against the headrest. “But for now, just today.”

—

It was hard to focus on the road ahead, hard to keep their mind on the many actions the vehicle demanded of them. Wynne wanted to pump the breaks and take hold of Ariadne again, to start weeping with the abandon of someone who could accept that their friend had died. But they couldn't, especially not with the road ahead and the car buzzing beneath them.

They turned their hand around, giving Ariadne's a soft squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel, not yet comfortable enough in the car to drive one-handed. It hurt, to separate from her, but it wasn't the worst pain they had known. It was nothing compared to what Ariadne had to be feeling now. And though a comforting hand might help, it was not enough to take away all the pain that radiated off her. Wynne knew there was no gesture large enough for it and it was that thought that weighed on them like a bag of stones as they drove, attempting to just keep their head on straight enough until they arrived.

“That … yes. Painted rocks. And everyone … I agree.” Cass had been a hero. Still was, in a way — how was it even possible that she no longer was anything? That she was someone you talked of in the past tense? Wynne tightened their grip on the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead, because it was the one thing they felt most certain of right now. Everything else was too hard to grasp, so in stead they clutched that steering wheel. “Just today.”