#(a child???) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kadavernagh · 2 years ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Regan's cabin PARTIES: Regan and Ariadne SUMMARY: It's rare that Regan gets any visitors out in the middle of the woods, but when Ariadne grows hungry enough, she's more than happy to swing by for snackies. And then not leave.

It was different every time, yet always the same. The others were there, sometimes a dagger, and always Cliodhna. Her pitch black eyes bore into Regan over, and over, and over again. Stop your crying, child. Such display of emotion is unbecoming of us, you will soon learn. Trembling, Regan tore her eyes away from the woman, practically a stranger, and looked down at her burning hands. Neat incisions gaped across her palms, the blood pooling between the creases. When she met Cliodhna’s eyes again, it wasn’t her there, but Reilly. Regan’s heart plummeted. No, no, no…

Sweat streaked down Regan’s temples as she jolted up, hands grasping for the covers. She pulled them away from herself, trying to catch her breath. Her whole body buzzed with terror, and – something else. Death, there was death nearby, and it wasn’t the familiar prickling of her bone collection. No. Just imagining it. Some remnant of the nightmare, surely. They plagued her every night, but she was far too proud to admit it, even to Reilly. Cliodhna would have seen to a fitting punishment if she were here. Regan swallowed thickly, her breath still tattered, but the world around her – the real world – was starting to come into shape as the disorientation faded away. She leaned over the nightstand and flicked on the lamp, eager to get out of the darkness.

Peering right into her eyes was… a young woman? A child? Regan’s breath caught in her throat again and she scrambled backwards, spine against the headboard. Not real. It wasn’t real. She was probably still asleep. But the girl didn’t look familiar at all. “Wh–” No. The wavering in her voice made her sick as Cliodhna was summoned back into her thoughts. Regan steeled herself, swallowed. When she spoke again, her voice was commanding and firm. “Who are you? How did you get in here? How did you even find this place?” For all that she’d been an insatiably curious child, Ariadne loathed the invasion of privacy that came along with nightmares. Not to mention the pain that they caused - which was a given, but still not something she enjoyed. However, so long as she didn’t mess up (again), and tried to avoid repeatedly feeding on anybody, at least with too much frequency. It was impossible to not repeat - both due to sheer practicality and the fact that some were far too satisfying. Which she loathed - loathed the idea that she derived any pleasure out of the pain of someone else.

The nightmare tonight was one that should have repulsed her - and it did, on a personal level at least. However, the rush that this nightmare provided was exhilarating - so much so that she’d broken concentration - only briefly - and when she’d looked back, she could see the covers on the bed rustling before a bright light flooded the room and for only a moment, she recoiled, though did her best to steady herself again, staring at the woman who was now looking right back at her.

“I - the door was open.” It had been, technically, for her. “I was hungry, and I was out for a walk.” Neither of which were lies - at least not entirely. “I - you have a beautiful home.” She hopped back onto the floor and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Answering who she was couldn’t happen. Given that it would be all too easy to find her. If her parents had named her Jennifer or Sarah or Ellie or something more common, then she could have maybe given away her name. “I - I think it’s supposed to start getting warmer, this week.” Regan blinked, trying to process what the child was saying. Trying to process that there was a child even here. There was no conceivable way she had simply been out for a walk in the middle of the woods at night. How would she even find this place? The nearest road was almost an hour away. And the door? There was no way it was open. Few people were more meticulous than Regan in ensuring a place is secured. She grimaced and watched as the child backed away, appreciating the distance. Slowly, Regan’s breath returned to her, thoughts of Cliodhna abandoned to her sleep.

“I don’t, really. This is not a place for comfort.” Not that she had any business knowing what it was for. “What did you see?” From the display cases of daggers to the old books foisted upon her by the others, the cabin was teeming with things that shouldn’t be seen. They don’t deserve to see them, she thought, in a voice that was not entirely her own. Regan’s wings twitched with displeasure, still shaking off the nightmare. Right. The necklace on her nightstand glared up at her, and she realized with a sinking stomach that even if the child didn’t go nosing through her things, there would be some explaining to do.“Do you make a habit of breaking into peoples’ homes and climbing into their beds? Talking about the weather?” Regan sat up. Lying down came with a certain vulnerability she was not inclined to when someone else was here. But reality was starting to sink in: she couldn’t just send her away. Not into the woods. Not while it was still dark. Not alone, and not hungry.

Regan slid her hands across her face and sighed. “I have yogurt, and I have oatmeal.”

She’d messed up, and she was exceedingly aware of that, and perhaps not just straight up disappearing had been a huge mistake, but then again, disappearing in front of someone, somehow, wouldn’t have been so good, either. Ariadne still wasn’t certain if that would have been possible, anyhow.

“Beauty is sub - up to interpretation, isn’t it?” She made a small face. “But I didn’t see much - some books, but I didn’t read them, if that’s what you’re asking. They looked beautiful though, do you collect antique books?” Having conversations with those you were feeding from was not supposed to happen. Usually she was quiet enough - except that apparently, today - or tonight, at least, that was very much not the case. Something twitched behind the woman and Ariadne did a double take. Except that it couldn’t have been a cat or dog or anything like that, because there likely would have been sounds of stress accompanying any shuffling. Which made her feel at least a bit better.

“I don’t uh - no. Not breaking in, and not talking about the weather with strangers. Usually.” Crossing her arms, she looked over at the other woman. “I’m just -” she squeezed her eyes shut. “Trying to just make conversation. I don’t want to scare you.” At least not while she was awake. “Yogurt, if you don’t mind. Do you have any honey to put in it? It’s fine if not, of course.” She took a few steps back. “I - I’ll follow you, if that’s alright?”

“Scare me?” Regan grumbled, rubbing the last bit of sleep from her eyes. “You couldn’t scare me. I am merely surprised. I fell asleep alone and woke up to a strange child in my bedroom, and she seemed interested in the weather of all things.” Regan was not to be cowed to fear – never. Surprise was one of the few emotions the others were afforded, and then, only fleetingly. Only until the threat could be assessed and controlled. And for now, Regan determined the threat to be minimal.

“I don’t collect them. I have them. There’s a difference. I can assure you I’d be satisfied to never add to it.” With that, she rolled out of bed, still none too pleased to be conversing with someone at this hour. Not that it would have been pleasant at any hour. And certainly not here. “Yogurt and honey it is. But no,” Regan shook her head, “You know where the kitchen is. I’ll follow you.” She stayed still, not willing to budge until the child got moving. Maybe it was the flush of self-consciousness she still felt over her wings, or maybe it was not wanting to turn her back to the stranger in her cabin, but either way, there would be no yogurt until the girl led them to it. “Oh.” Well, the supposed inability to scare the woman was something for Ariadne to focus on another time. Except, she figured, the woman was either a very good liar or meant while she was awake, because Ariadne was fairly certain that she’d been more than a bit terrified in her dream. There was a part of her, though, that felt a certain sense of relief at her inability to scare. Which probably was not something that she should have felt relieved about, but she couldn’t bring herself to entirely ignore it. “The weather is a conversation topic that works with most people, I think?” She squeaked, practically. “We all experience it, the weather, I mean, so it’s a jumping off point…” Chewing on her lip, she offered the woman a small shrug.

“Oh. I’m sorry - I guess I just assumed.” Why wouldn’t you want to add to it? She wanted to ask, but refrained. “They still look beautiful. Nice, uh, decorations, then, I suppose?” She shook her head again. “Okay, I’ll go first.” Ariadne made her way towards where she believed the kitchen was. At least she’d agreed to letting Ariadne have food in the first place, which was more than she’d expected. “You should probably find the yogurt and honey though, just because I don’t know where you keep those.” Not to mention, she was feeling more than a little jumpy herself and wanted to sit down, at least for the moment. The girl seemed nervous, which was really something. If anyone should have been nervous, it was Regan, but this had never been a normal interaction to begin with. There was something else going on. Regan wasn’t stupid, far from it, but she couldn’t figure out exactly what that something was. Theft? Did the girl line her pockets with Regan’s belongings? No… she wouldn’t have gone into the bedroom. Why risk that? Was it trouble at home? Had she run into the woods to escape something, looking for nothing more than a safe place to rest her head? At least she acquiesced, letting Regan follow her. Nothing suspicious about the way she carried herself – no reason to think she was smuggling some old book underneath her shirt.

“So you didn’t go digging through the cabinets before you decided to join me in bed?” Regan asked, raising a brow, not even sure if she meant it in jest. “You can sit down. I’ll get you your food. But in return, I want an honest explanation, however light on the details, of why you’re out here. Are we agreed?” Her brow stayed raised, though there was no harshness in her eyes. It was a trap, of course – a deal to be kept. Though Regan had no intention of withholding food from a lost child either way, she wanted the truth, even if she needed to fish for it a little.

“No, that would have been way too much of an invasion of privacy.” Which, again, the whole feeding on nightmares thing already was, already, and Ariadne really didn’t want to further invade the woman’s space.

“Okay,” she sat down quickly (perhaps too quickly, but the thought of standing up any more wasn’t exactly something she relished the idea of. She’d started to get a feeding in, but she hadn’t finished - which, to her horror, meant that she was going to have to find someone else to feed off of. “Of course. I’m here because I was looking for food, that’s all.” Ariadne looked down at her lap, “I just figured that a house all the way out here had to have a good store of food, since you aren’t close to the grocery store.”

The explanation had to be honest, even if the girl couldn’t feel the binds of their agreement wrapped around her tongue. There was no question; it was the truth. Regan stayed standing, watching, eyes flicked down in thought. She wasn’t permitted to feel sympathy for the girl, but pity, and even some caring, were emotions she had been able to continue harboring. Yes, pity the girl out in the woods searching for food. But don’t feel for her, and certainly not with her. Regan’s lips tensed into a thin line, and she nodded, finally accepting the explanation. “I see. In that case, we ought to feed you.”

Yogurt and a plentiful helping of honey were set out, and Regan didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She wouldn’t leave her alone, not here, but it felt strange watching someone eat. Oh, well. What was she now if not strange? Regan pulled up a seat for herself at her small table, and that was when it became clear – the sensation she’d felt before, the death, was coming from the girl. And she wasn’t the first person in town to elicit such a feeling. “Please enjoy the food. I am not considered by most to be a great conversationalist. You may tell me other details if you wish – most pressingly, do you have a place to return to?” “Thank you so much.” Though Ariadne couldn’t admit, of course, that the proper way of being fed would be for the woman to go back to sleep. But something sweet would at least do something to stave off her hunger.

“It’s fine, I think most people can be good enough at conversation, and I’m not really one to judge.” Especially not within the past year. “I find that asking people to talk about something they love can work pretty well, usually.” She shook her head. “Sometimes.” Ariadne took a small bite of the honey-and-yogurt, before looking up and over at the other woman. “Yes, I have an apartment with my cousin, if that’s what you mean.” She looked down at her yogurt and over to the woman, “are you hungry? The yogurt’s fantastic, by the way. Thank you.”

“Don’t.” Regan said firmly, the word like a wall. “Thanking someone is saying that you owe them, whether you realize it or not.” And the bonds of the thank you were there, hanging, waiting, for Regan to reach out and grab if she wanted to. The thought disgusted her. And then her disgust disgusted her. “And you don’t owe me anything. Nothing more than an explanation, that is, which you more or less gave. Meagerly.” She grumbled the last word. But at least she had some answers now, even if they came with more questions. If the girl had a home, why was she here, in the woods?

“I am not hungry. And stop saying that.” It was true. Her stomach was roiling at the intrusion, the feeling of someone being in such a personal space, and she doubted she could focus on eating anything right now even if she were hungry. “You must do something for me,” Regan started, realizing she gave up the perfect opportunity to ask for it as a debt repaid, “I don’t want you to tell anyone about this place. No one. I’m surprised you managed to stumble out here, but I suppose I’m glad you did, instead of heading deeper into the woods.” She looked past the girl, over her shoulder, at one of the numerous displays. Daggers of every color, every shape, some iron and some not, shined back at her. “This is not a place anyone should know about.” “I - okay. I - don’t thank you?” Ariadne sighed. The woman’s firm words startled her - as much as anything could - “I didn’t realize that it was saying I owed you. I just wanted you to know that I was really grateful for your kindness and hospitality.” She looked down at the table. “What I told you is true. I was hungry.” Just not so much for the yogurt, but at least it had honey. She could focus on that, and not focus on the nightmares the other woman had been having, and how satisfying they’d been.

“Okay, okay - sorry. I just wanted to be polite, even though it’s your house, and obviously you could just take food if you wanted.” At the woman’s request, she nodded. “Of course. Yes, I won’t tell anybody. Promise. I wouldn’t want people to intrude on your space, or whatever.” Ariadne took another bite of the yogurt-and-honey. “Sorry, again, that sounded like I was being - uh - I can’t think of the word, but I wasn’t trying to sound cool, or uncaring. I really wouldn’t want people to come and intrude, especially ‘cause of me.” She did her best to keep her gaze trained straight on the other woman, no matter how much she wanted to follow her gaze. “Do you ever have friends over? Or book clubs? You seem smart, and I think smart people do those, sometimes.” Friends. Regan almost wanted to bark with laughter, but such a response was beyond her, now. As were friends. The others consorted only with each other, occasionally letting some other fae flit into their lives, but for the most part their insularity was as good as law. And it had teeth. For most of them could only discuss the intricacies of their duties and their culture with each other, bound to never tell a living soul how they destroyed themselves in a thousand different ways to achieve perfection. Sometimes those binds were removed, on the glorious and rare day where perfection was achieved, which was an occasion to celebrate.

Regan was never perfect. The sour thought brought a light sensation of crawling ivy with it, curling up her neck and around her tongue, just in case. Her wings twitched, anticipating pain that did not come, this time. “I would have nothing to say to friends. I do not have friends.” Regan said, honestly, and the ivy relaxed. “This place is not for conversation or enjoyment, and these books are not for anyone’s eyes.” She glanced over at one of the bookcases, grimacing at those old dusty books. But the girl wouldn’t tell anyone. At least there was that. The child’s tethered words joined the thick tangle of the very promises Regan had made – I vow that I won’t tell anyone where Saol Eile is, I vow that I won’t speak of the details of our training, I vow and understand that there will be consequences when I give in to lowly human emotions. Some lingering sadness washed over her, and was gone just as quickly, the word consequences swept along with it. That was the reminder that she needed. Hospitality was well and good, but not when it was such a risk. “They’re not for your eyes. I believe you should be finishing up your yogurt now, don’t you?” “I also don’t have many friends.” Not the sort of conversation Ariadne had imagined she’d be having with someone who she’d fed on - but then again, she usually tried to avoid conversations in the moment with those people. Sometimes she knew them (though that hadn’t happened so much recently), but conversations were always outside of the nighttime. In places where she could at least more easily fake being normal.

“Okay. It’s just a beautiful house, but I get it. I like my privacy too.” Except she knew that if she went off to live in the woods her parents would find her and do whatever they could to get her to come back to town, to them. Even though she was a monster, Ariadne was aware that for whatever reason (one she certainly wouldn’t ever understand), her parents still loved her unconditionally. She wasn’t so sure if that would extend to the whole ‘I killed someone’ thing, but if they never found out, she wouldn’t have to either, so: problem solved. “Of course. I don’t read a lot, anyhow. I like audiobooks - do you like those?” She glanced down at her yogurt. “Yes. I should. Are you sure you don’t want some? Or like, to get yourself a glass of water? I need to keep water by my bed in case I get thirsty.” She took a spoonful of the yogurt, focusing on the flavor of the honey as much as she could. “Or I can make you tea, seeing as I woke you up and everything.”

“That’s unfortunate for you, then. You need them. I do not.” Regan tilted her chin up at the thought, but something softened inside of her. She still wanted people to have what she couldn’t. It was part of why she’d taken it upon herself to help Ray find friends. Maybe she could encourage him and this girl to go… find bones together, or whatever it is that college students do. Parties. Intercourse. Whatever. Anything that wasn’t here.

“It’s not beautiful. It’s not supposed to be. This is a place of solitude and study. Do you understand what solitude is? No people, no interaction, no audiobooks… just –” She didn’t want to turn toward the knives and bring attention to them. But her scar-knotted palms itched to handle the blades. She had allowed in too much. “Just me. Alone. Here. By myself.” She gave the girl a pointed look. “You’re not to make me anything. You’re not even to walk around in here unless it’s toward the door.” Regan sighed in exasperation that she knew she wasn’t supposed to be feeling. But this was the closest anyone had ever been to how she’d spent the last six years. Even Reilly didn’t know about this place. And every time the child so much as glanced an inch away from her yogurt, Regan’s slow pulse spiked. “Look, I’ll – I might know someone. A friend. For you, I mean. His name is Ray… something. The burgeoning meteorologist at the university. You should go find him instead. He’ll be way more interesting than me. And friendlier.”

“I - well, yes. It is a bit unfortunate, but I figure anybody could use them.” Though Ariadne absolutely had to appreciate how chill the woman was about this whole thing. The whole ‘I don’t have friends’ reveal usually resulted in a lot more pity, which Ariande knew she didn’t deserve. It was kind of the woman, especially given that Ariadne had just been giving her what had to be the worst (or top three worst, at least) sleep of her life.

“Yes - I do.” Another sigh escaped her lips as she dragged her spoon around the bowl, despite the fact that it was absolutely at least still half full. By myself. And for a moment her face scrunched up into something akin to sadness, though Ariadne did her best to readjust and bring it back to the neutral expression she’d been attempting before. “Okay. I won’t walk around here.” Her eyes grew wide at the next words from the woman. “I - oh. You don’t have to. Do that, I mean.” Except that she probably did need more friends. “I don’t know much about meteorology but if he’s nice, I’d be happy to get to know him. Do you need to know my name, or - do you have his contact information?” Another bite of the yogurt, more honey than yogurt this time.

Regan couldn’t help but see some humor in the girl offering up her name now. She had assumed some anonymity was important to her given the strange circumstances, but perhaps not. The humor evaporated when she realized she didn’t even care about the child’s name, beyond potentially keeping tabs to make sure she was true to her word. Regan just wanted her gone. She rubbed at the bags under her eyes and sighed, deflating in the chair. “Good.” She reached out for the small notepad and pen and scrawled Ray’s contact info down. The forceful tearing of the paper from the rings sounded remarkably loud. “Here’s his information. I don’t suggest tracking down where he lives and breaking into his home at night in search of yogurt.” Though, as Regan peered down at the child’s meal, she noted that she seemed more interested in the honey. “So you’ve had your food. And I gave you a friend. And their information, so that you can go find them. As soon as possible. What else do you need in order to leave this place?” Ariadne took the piece of paper from the woman and glanced down at it. “I won’t track down where he lives. I’ll - message him, or something.” It felt both uncomfortable and incredibly endearing that the woman whose house she’d broken into and fed from was trying to make friends for her. She was fairly certain that she was probably supposed to be offended, but she’d admitted to a lack of friends, so this had to just be a natural course of action, or something. “Could I wash my hands? I can - I don’t need to use the bathroom, just the kitchen sink is fine. Then I’ll go.” Of course, she’d have to go find some other house, somewhere, given the lack of a meal that she’d had, but that was fine. She’d obsess over that later. “Fine.” Regan shrugged, denying herself any further compassion for the girl. That was more than enough. And she would need to answer for it. Best not add more to her running list of failures. At the child’s request for hand-washing, that same emotional, inexcusable part of her wanted to groan in frustration, but she didn’t allow herself that, either. As much as she wanted the girl gone, who was she to ever deny someone the opportunity for hygiene? Didn’t she say about once a week that the world would be a better place if everyone washed their hands more? Daily, really. “Yes, wash your hands. That’s fine, too. I’ll allow it. But the kitchen sink, as you said.” There was a weasel skeleton drying in the bathroom, and she didn’t want anyone seeing it yet. Plus, how much snooping could the child do on the way there and back?

As the tap started, Regan paced with some impatience, buzzing with tension. Of course she was saddled with just about the only person in the universe who actually washed their hands for an entire 2 minutes. She’d known infectious disease experts who were less diligent. When the ordeal seemed to be done, Regan pointed toward the door. “In case you’re unclear on where the door is. I don’t know how you got in here, but it wasn’t through there.” She hesitated for a moment, concerned once more about what might have been seen. “You’ll remember the promise you made to me, won’t you?” “Yes, of course the kitchen sink. I wouldn’t - I’m not going to make you let me into your house more than I’ve already forced you to.” Ariadne sighed. “Warm water and soap’s all I need to have.” Even if the woman seemed annoyed with her (and with good reason), she couldn’t help but feel comfortable here. Not as lonely as she was in her apartment, despite the fact that she lived with someone who she’d used to consider as good as a sibling. Still, the time to cry was later in her bed, not at a stranger’s house.

She turned on the faucet and let herself forget about other things - only for a moment, because it seemed spoiled to let herself forget for too long. Soon enough, she figured it had been long enough - and that the other woman didn’t need to have her around, still. Even if a small part of her wanted to wait around until she’d gone back to sleep. Ariadne hated the part of her that craved that. “Yes. I won’t tell anybody about this place.” She moved toward the door. “I - I hope you sleep well. Sorry for waking you up again.” Regan wasn’t sure when she’d become the kind of person who was willing to shoo a child out of her dwelling and let them wander into the woods unsupervised, but then, she wasn’t really a person at all anymore, was she? And if the girl had made it all the way out here without issue, she could surely make it back. There weren’t any bears to cause her trouble in these woods. “Just go that way.” Regan gestured to the front of the cabin, south. “You’ll hit a road in about forty minutes. But then, you probably already know that.” And if you don’t make it, I’ll be by later to find your body. She sighed and ran a hand through her knotted hair, remembering that it hadn’t been brushed – because she had been so rudely woken up by an intruder, and it was probably just approaching sunrise now. As Regan opened the door to let the girl out, the first rays of sunlight made the tops of the trees shine, and for just a second she was grateful to be awake to see it. Maybe just grateful to not be dreaming of her grandmother anymore… tonight. She nodded toward the child and gave her a sharp but not unkind look. “Safe travels. Do not return.”

#writing #c ariadne #a child???

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