#Elle: there were only six of them and your eyes started glowing like a horror show are you KIDDING-

[unmeisenshi]

Story: Do You Dream Of Armageddon?, Chapter 1 - The Parade of Ashes

Three days would pass from the day that Sabbath began to kill Xerneas.  The effects of her spirit being stolen were already being felt across Flora.  Many reports of people mysteriously disappearing.  Cloudy, gloomy days.  Flowers that once bloomed in vibrant colors now sat wilted and dying.  It began to take its toll on the team.

Solaris would let out a very drawn out and tired yawn.  He hadn’t slept in these three days.  None of the team had.  Everyone was on the brink of exhaustion.  “Damn it... What’s going on?  Something feels off...” 

“I don’t know... It feels like this entire place is crumbling to pieces.”  Zane would sigh.  “Reports are coming in that nearly 1/3 of the population has gone missing.  And that number just increases with each passing day...”

A long bout of tense silence filled the air.  Everyone simply sat in thought, wondering what to do next.  Luckily for them, their answer would come immediately.

“H-Hello?  Can you all hear me?”  A voice echoed through the team’s home.  A familiar one as well.

“Ella?  Is that you?”  Florence looked around.  “Why can’t we see you?”

“I am communicating through telepathy to you all.  I am at the Tree of Life still... Sabbath is draining me of my power.”

Everyone jumped to their feet.  “What!?  Ella, what’s happening over there?  How did he get to you?”

“I am unsure myself.  He blindsided me and started draining my spirit.  He’s been at it for three days now... Listen, you haven’t much time.  When he gets me, Flora will be in grave danger...”

“Then we’ll come to you!  If the entire continent is in danger, then saving you will save Flora, no?”

“No... The time to save me is long past... Wait...”  Xerneas would go quiet.  “No... No!  He can’t be... Already?”

As if on cue, the earth would begin to rumble slightly, shaking the entire house and knocking small objects over.  Remi and Audie would run out of their rooms, the former carrying Florence’s four pups. 

Suddenly, a white glow would surround everyone on the team... Except for the kids.  Solaris would look to Remi.  “Ell, wait... The kids!”

“There is no time!  You must remain still for me to save you!”

“No, wait!”  Solaris would extend a claw to reach out for Remi, Audie, and the pups.  He would only catch a glimpse of the six as they began fading to ash... Before a bright light would engulf them all.

When the light faded, the team was at the Tree of Life.  The Tree itself was decaying, and Xerneas looked weak, like she would break apart even if you touched her lightly.  And beside her stood Sabbath, grinning wickedly at the team.

The Charizard could only collapse to his knees, beginning to cry and bash his fists into the dirt.

“No!  Dammit!”  His cries would echo into the silent and punishing air.  His and Florence’s cries rang the loudest, as the two could only mourn for a brief moment before being cut off by Sabbath’s maniacal.  Solaris would turn his tear soaked and anger filled eyes towards the Urshifu.

“You’re too late!  Xerneas’ soul is mine now!  Hers and everyone’s on Flora!  All mine!  And your home?  Rubble!”

Ella would sigh.  “I am sorry... Everyone...”  The team would turn to see her looking towards them as she turned completely gray, and a gust of wind would blow her into ash.

“Yes!  Perfect!  Watch now as your home dies!”

The team would turn to look out towards Flora, and watched with horror in their eyes as the entire continent collapsed into the sea.

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Yesterday was a busy day of meetings and airplane travel for peter and connor but last night peter took some time to share his thoughts on the passing of the great christopher lee christopher lee was the tallest actor I ever knew he was also by far the most literate when we first met in a los angeles studio where he was recording his lines as king haggard in the last unicorn he had just recorded haggard’s speech about his first sight of unicorns and I mentioned that it was probably my favorite speech in the book he immediately wanted to know well did I do it properly we can always redo it right here of course he’d handled the lines perfectly but writers and writers’ opinions about their work mattered intensely to christopher that same afternoon we discovered that between the two of us we we could call to mind just about all the lines of g k chesterton’s poem the rolling english road we also discovered a mutual need to hit the men’s room and my son dan in his mid teens at the time still has a very clear memory of christopher simultaneously peeing while declaiming in that voice which no one could ever keep from imitating after fifteen minutes with him before the roman came to rye or out to severn strode the rolling english drunkard made the rolling english road a reeling road a rolling road that rambled round the shire and after him the parson ran the sexton and the squire I leave it to the reader to imagine that voice in the tiled acoustics of a hollywood bathroom we met a second time in munich where the last unicorn was being dubbed into german most of my memories of that time and of chris lee have to do with books and authors he had known both j r r tolkien and a writer who mattered more to me t h white we had a long ongoing argument in munich about a chapter of the sword in the stone that appears in the english edition of the book but not in the american one he turned out to be right he usually was he never failed to mention the last unicorn as one of his very favorite books and as one of the movies he was most proud of having made indeed he left my whopperjawed as mark twain would have put it when we were being interviewed together on austrian television and he announced oh yes I simply couldn’t resist a chance to play king haggard one more time even in another language after all and he looked straight into the camera it’s the closest they’ll ever let me get to playing king lear the camera swung toward me to catch my stunned reaction and chris looked across the studio at me and winked but my most vivid memory chilling as it remains to this day has to do with the day that I and michael chase walker associate producer of the last unicorn and the one who really got the film made in the first place somehow found our way out to dachau I can’t now recall how we managed it considering that neither one of us spoke german and that you had to take both a subway and a bus to get there from the hotel where the crew were staying but we got there somehow and spent a good half of the day roaming with other tourists around a legendary concentration camp peering blindly into the huge crematoriums but staring with equal horror and fascination at the endless rows of filing cabinets containing every record of every human being who was ever imprisoned starved gassed or simply worked to death in this place michael and I grew quieter and quieter that afternoon until by the time we started back to munich we weren’t speaking at all I think we both felt that we might say anything in words again the first person we met in the hotel lobby was christopher he took one look at us and announced you’ve been to dachau we nodded without answering chris strode toward us looked all the way down from his six foot five inch altitude lowered his voice and inquired still smells doesn’t it with the end of world war ii christopher as a member of the special forces and whose five or six languages included fluent german had been assigned to hunt down and interrogate nazi war crminals and had been present at the liberation of dachau and yes the smell of death had undoubtedly faded somewhat since 1945 but it was still as real as michael and me wandering dazedly between the ovens and the filing system we just didn’t know what it was but christopher did and i’d know it again I never saw him again after munich though we spoke on the telephone a few times on the last occasion when I had called to wish him a happy 90th birthday I remember him assuring me that if by the time you come to make your live action version of your movie I have passed on do not let it concern you I have risen from the dead several times I know how it’s done he worked almost to the last as the real artists of every kind do they work to be working because that’s what they do and they die when they stop I always regarded him as the last of the great 19th century actors that bravura larger than life style went with him no modern rada trained performer would ever attempt it today nor should they it would inevitably come out parody however earnestly meant yet there was always more to christopher lee as an actor than dracula or the mummy or saruman or sherlock holmes for that matter though he was very proud of having played not only both holmes and watson but sherlock’s brother mycroft as well lord summerisle of the original the wicker man probably his favorite of his own movies is most likely closer to chris’s dark benignity than any other role he ever inhabited I believe this because lord summerisle sings a surprising amount in that movie and chris passionately loved singing if there is any such thing as an afterlife or reincarnation I truly hope no believe that christopher lee will return as a wagnerian opera singer if he hadn’t been considered too old in his 30s to be accepted for formal vocal training he might have been in his own eyes at least a happier more fulfilled man but we would have been deeply poorer for it and never have known See Other related 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[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts Chp 7

Billy x Katrina

A/N: this is a multi chapter series that will contain smut, angst, fluff, substance abuse

MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE

November

Katrina's POV

A blizzard. A fucking blizzard that has barricaded everyone inside their homes, that's what I woke up to. A complete white out, not expected to let up for a day or two.

Olivia twirled around the kitchen, humming her haunting tune while I got a pot of water boiling. Grabbed a bag of tea from the cupboard and tossed it in a mug while I waited. It didn't take long for the kettle to click off, steam pouring from the spout.

Elle's hands slid over my hips as I poured the water, "what kind?" She whispered.

"Strawberry hibiscus."

She hummed, "my favorite."

I stirred a spoonful of honey in before retreating to the couch and cozying up in blankets.

I flicked on the TV and started scrolling through my Netflix, "what should we watch?"

Ally appeared beside me, grinning, "horror marathon?"

"Is that the only thing you like?"

A smile stretched across her face, "pretty much."

I smirked at the younger girl, scrolling through the options until Ally told me to stop and settled in to sip my tea and watch Pet Semetary.

Part way through the movie, Ally looked at me and whispered, "someone's coming."

Moments later there was a knock on my door. I cocked an eyebrow at Ally, who shrugged her slim shoulders and turned back to the movie, and got up to answer the door.

Billy was at the door, rumpled like he had just rolled out of bed, and holding a sleepy Pudge in his arms, "snow day," he mumbled.

"I heard, do you think Pudge made it happen?"

He smirked, squeezing the kitten a little, "can you really blame him? He likes when I have the day off."

I giggled, "so you came to join my horror movie day?"

"Are you making french toast?" He asked, padding into my apartment.

I laughed and closed the door, "yeah, we can make french toast."

--

A few hours later we were leaning against each other on the couch, sharing a fuzzy blanket and absently making our way through the Scream series. Pudge was sleeping in my lap, curled into a tiny black ball.

"Wanna play something?" Billy asked, looking at me with a playful smile.

"Like what?"

His arm shifted, falling down around my shoulder, "I have a bottle of vodka in my fridge, we could get drunk and play twenty questions. Learn more about each other?"

I laughed, "like the kids game?"

"You got something better to do?"

--

Half the bottle of vodka later, we were lounging on Billy's couch giggling and being silly until Billy broke out a hard hitting question.

"So, tell me about your family."

I tensed, took a long swig from the bottle, "what about them?"

"Well I've known you for almost a year and you've never mentioned your family. Do you have any siblings? What are your parents like?"

I looked down to pick at my fingernails, "I don't have any family."

"None?"

"Nope."

He studied me for a moment, "why?"

I huffed, "only child...and my parents never cared much about me until they disowned me."

Billy's face fell a little, all the fun from before gone, "why?"

"Cause I like girls. When I brought my ex home after graduation they tossed me out, haven't seen or talked to them since."

He laid a hand gently on my knee, "assholes."

I let out a watery laugh, "yeah, they are."

"And what happened with your ex?"

"I'm pretty sure it's my turn to ask questions actually."

"Right, go ahead."

Well, if learning about each other means tough questions, I can ask them too.

"What about your family? Are they in Indiana or California?"

His mouth tightened, "Max and Steve are here."

"Parents?"

Billy's jaw tensed a couple times, "dead."

I felt the heart break and confusion, saw their graves. Both of them, gone, leaving a young boy and his sister alone against the world.

"I'm sorry...what were they like?"

"Mom...well, my mom was sick. I remember good days where we would dance and play in the garden...but she got hurt and started to..change? I guess is the right word. She just wasn't herself all the time, she had headaches all the time, started staying in bed a lot. Didn't remember things anymore."

A shot, a flash of light and a heavy thud. My heart was racing in my chest, trying to jackhammer it's way through my ribcage.

He continued after a breath, "she died when I was six. I was supposed to be at a friends but I came home sick and found her."

A pool of blood, confusion, a boy screaming for his mom. I pulled my knee away from his hand, pretending like I was just shifting for comfort. Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Sorry, that was probably oversharing."

I gulped, "no, it's...that's horrible, I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," he murmured, "I try to just remember her good days."

"What about your dad?"

Billy grabbed the bottle from me and took a swig, "he was a miserable fucking drunk. Liked to slap people around. Died in a car accident, driving drunk, only downside to that was he took Max's mom with him."

"Which left you to become her guardian."

"That was a couple years after, had to wait until I was legal. I lived with Steve and Max lived with the police chief, his daughter is Max's best friend."

I nodded, a small smile on my lips, "I still think that's really sweet of you, to take care of her like that."

A light blush rose on his cheeks, "thanks."

I smiled at him, "what was your mom like before she got hurt? Tell me more about her."

Billy hummed, a wistful smile on his face, "she loved to garden, she would have turned our entire yard into one giant garden if she could have. Her favorite were sunflowers, she had a whole patch of them that we'd hide in. She was always humming, dancing, singing, just always happy...when it was the two of us anyway. She was amazing...I have a picture, hold on," he said, hurrying to his room.

He came back a moment later, carrying a picture frame and sat back down beside me.

"That's her," he murmured, passing me the frame.

In the picture was a young Billy, short curly hair dripping water and a bright smile on his face. He was much smaller than the muscular man I knew now. The sun behind him was starting to set, casting a yellow glow over the beach. Beside him was a woman in a flowy white dress that was blowing with a gentle breeze. Her blonde hair was pulled over her shoulder in a thick braid, a few curls having blown loose. She was crouching down to hug Billy, a brilliant smile on her face. She looked bright, happy, like she was so full of love and pride for her little boy.

Wait. Is that...no. It can't be.

"Olivia?"

Billy looked at me, confused, "yeah...how did you know that?"

My heart started racing as I put the picture down and stood up.

"I...I need to..I have to go," I stammered.

"What? Why? Did you know her?"

I shook my head as I hurried out the door, stuttering nonsense as I went. I left Billy alone and confused to lock myself in my apartment where I hurried to throw clothes and a jacket on before running to the roof of our building.

I paced around the roof, trudging through the snow for a while before I called, "Olivia?"

I had to call her a few times before she appeared, "yes, my girl?"

Yeah, that was Olivia in the picture. The woman that I'd grown up with, who had been a better mother to me than my own mother.

"Olivia...you're...dead? How? I don't understand."

"My sweet girl," she cooed, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, "don't be silly, I'm not dead."

"No...you are. He told me you died...showed me your picture. You died, a long time ago."

"I..I'm not, I don't.."

She looked lost, like she didn't know what I was talking about. I watched her shaky hand come up to feel the back of her head. Her breath hitched with a shocked sob as she felt around and tears started to fall down her cheeks.

She shook her head, "I...I remember.."

I chewed at my lip, feeling like my world had been turned upside down as I waited for her.

"I remember...shouting...and then falling..then I remember being in the hospital and he said I slipped..." Olivia swallowed thickly, her voice cracking, "he said I slipped but..I didn't, I didnt slip. He hit me."

My heart ached for her and tears started pooling in my eyes as she kept going. She started to get clearer as she spoke, less wispy. She grabbed my hand to share her memories with me as she spoke.

"Neil was so charming when we met, chiseled face and slicked back hair...a devilish smile, stormy blue eyes, a dimple on one cheek...he was gorgeous. I was working at a little diner at the time, he came in with some other new recruits. They were being deployed a couple weeks later so they were hitting up the town before leaving. Well, as soon as we locked eyes...I was under his spell. We were inseparable, fell hard and fast in love until he left...he looked so handsome in his uniform," she sighed, "we wrote each other all the time while he was gone. He could never tell me where he was but he'd say he was always thinking of me. That the thought of coming home and never letting me out of his sight again was the only thing keeping him going. Soon after, I realized I was pregnant and the both of us were overjoyed, he couldn't wait to have a family. But then Neil stopped writing just before I gave birth...I thought maybe he changed his mind..or had been killed. I thought I was going to be a single mother at nineteen, but I got another letter a couple weeks before he came home. It just said 'I'm on my way' and then he was home, my baby was a few months old by then. He looked so much like me, soft cheeks and blonde curls...had Neil's eyes though."

I saw him, a chubby cheeked baby boy with fuzzy blonde curls and sharp blue eyes, bubbling happily against my chest.

"When Neil came home he, he was different...he was so...distant, cold, angry. . He wouldn't tell me why he was dismissed from duty. Turned away when I tried to kiss him, yelled at me over little things, yelled at our baby when he cried. Started drinking a lot and he, he started hitting me...but after he got angry, he'd leave the house and come back hours later all sad and contrite. Shed a few tears, say he loved me, flash that smile and shower me with gifts...flowers and candy, jewelry..or he'd bring home dinner and say I deserve a relaxing night. I stayed for that Neil, I loved him...when he was kind. And for our baby, he needed a father and I tried to keep myself happy for him, to shower him in love but Neil started getting more violent as the years went on, leaving black eyes and split lips. I had to make up stories when I went to town. He tried to go for my boy once and I tried to stop him...he hit me and my head cracked on the counter and then...when I got home, I didn't want to go outside anymore. I was just a shell of myself most days, I couldn't do anything, everything hurt. I got splitting headaches," Olivia looked at me, her eyes glistening as she held her head, "it hurt so bad, it felt like my head was going to pop from the pressure."

Both of us were weeping now, rivers of tears pouring down our faces.

She gasped, "my baby...my little boy, I left him there...I just, I couldn't take it anymore...I couldn't find another way out."

"Olivia.."

"I found his gun...and I...the pressure stopped, there was no more pain and I found you, my girl. But my boy, my sweet boy..I left him behind...I didn't want to..I just, I didn't think."

Oh god...Billy's memories...

"Olivia, your son..."

"I waited until he was at a friend's. Made sure the house was empty..."

I shook my head and sniffled, "no, Olivia..he was there, he found you."

She looked horrified as she wept, "oh, my baby. How could I do that? My poor boy...he must hate me."

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, "he loves you, even still. He grew up beautiful, Olivia, and he thinks of you all the time."

"How do you-"

Billy burst onto the roof, clutching his leather jacket tight to his chest to see me shivering in the snow and talking to the air.

"Katrina? What the fuck? You're gunna freeze out here!"

Olivia stared at him, her eyes glistening.

"My boy..."

"I see her."

@charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

[hitchell-mope]

After joker and the thief

The crowds run away. The sky gets darker. Carlos loses all his swagger and confidence and hides behind jay. A flock of ravens fly down from a building towards the teenagers. The ravens grow closer together forming...)

Maleficent: well

Mal: um. I’m so sorry. We tried really hard

Evie: thanks for landing us in it magenta

Mal (to Evie): SHUDDIT. (To Maleficent). We did but

Maleficent (eyes glowing dangerously): I do not want to hear it. Once again. You have failed at the most basic and simplistic of instructions. Use your magic and that of your minions to bring down the barrier to free me from this prison. And you keep failing!

(During this little speech the four teens are doubled over in pain)

Carlos: we’re sorry we’re sorry we’re sorry

(Maleficent stalks over to Carlos and grabs him by the chin)

Maleficent: oh I know you are. Believe me. I know how sorry you are. No. No. Don’t cry. Sweet puppy. Don’t cry. It will just make what I have to say worse off for you.

(With that she launches him into the air. Missing the barrier by inches. The other three set the faces in an attempt to stop themselves from helping him. Jay bites his tongue to hold back the tears)

Maleficent: now

(Mal rushes over catches Carlos and holds him until he stops shaking)

Maleficent (unmoved by this display of blatant affection): follow me

(The four of the follow her into the building. They’re greeted by Grimhilde and Jafar)

Grimhilde: sweetheart I do so hope you weren’t eating while you were amongst the rabble.

Evie: n nuh nao

Grimhilde: you know how much I detest mumbling. Enunciate or I shall have to feed your tongue to Diablo

Evie (swallowing hard): I. Found a peach at the market. I took it. And threw it at a commoner.

Grimhilde: good. I have to keep you at the proper size of you are to ever find a husband on this trash heap.

Jafar: oh your majesty come now. (Much to Evie’s horror he caresses her chin with his hand). Your daughter has grown into a fine young lady that any man would be lucky to wed

Evie (small voice): mother. May I.

Grimhilde: permission granted.

Evie: thank you

(Her eyes glow bright sapphire blue and she sinks her teeth into the mans hand. He howls in pain)

Jafar (raiding his hand to slap her): you worthless little who

Jay (grabbing his dads wrist): don’t you dare touch her.

(Jafar stops and contemplates his son. Then slaps jay so hard the teen in knocked to the floor. He grabs his son by the hair and pulls him up to face him. There’s a small trickle of blood on the left corner of jay’s mouth)

Jafar: if you ever. Ever. Talk to me like that again. I will make you kill the pet. Do you understand me boy?

Jay: yes sir. I promise I’ll behave

Jafar: good.

Maleficent (rapping her sceptre on the ground): enough! We are off subject. Girls. Take him outside and clean him up. Nothing should ever blemish such a pretty face

(Once they’re alone. More importantly. Carlos is alone. Among three very powerful adults)

Jay (cleans himself up): there. I’m pretty again. Let’s go back inside and help C.

Evie: too quick.

Jay and Mal: do you really want to prolong this?

Evie: you both know I don’t. But we all know she’ll know if we don’t take our time. I’ve got the ointment. Mal you take the stitches.

(Back inside)

Maleficent: tell me boy. How long does it normally take the girls to clean him up after injuries.

Carlos: anywhere from thirty seconds to three minutes.

Maleficent: very well then. We shall wait three minutes exactly. Or. You are to go home with your mother

(Later)

Maleficent: would you look at that. And with 45 seconds to spare as well. Mal! Sit! Scalp!

(She sifts through her daughters hair growing more and more disappointed by the second)

Maleficent: still nothing. Not even bumps. You my girl need to try harder. The most important lesson I can teach you is how to be me

Mal (at the same time): ...how to be you. I understand mother. And I promise I’ll do better.

Maleficent: I know you will. Because you know what will happen if you don’t

(Carlos’s screams echo in Mal’s head)

Mal: yes

Maleficent: now. On to business. You four have been chosen to go to a new school. In Auradon.

Mal: what?

Jay: I don’t uniforns

Carlos: are there dogs there?

Evie (wistfully): or princes

Grimhilde: I told you my girl would take it well

Maleficent: like everything else in your pitiful little lives you have no choice in this matter or any other. It’s quite simple really. You go to Auradon. You get the fairy godmothers wand. Destroy all those who get in your way. Free me. And I will subjugate the survivors

Mal: what’s in it for us?

Maleficent: the knowledge that you and I have finally triumphed

Carlos: I think she means us?

(He does the “whole lot of us” gesture)

Maleficent: Oh. Well. I suppose Mal does need minions. So I guess I will allow you to live. Mal. Walk with me

(Mal follows her mother out to the terrace)

Maleficent: now. I never thought much of you. The incessant wailing nearly cracked my horns. But it was that wonderful piece of pettiness that convinced me you had it in you to be one of the greatest threats the realms have ever seen

Mal: Oh?

Maleficent: behind me of course dear.

Mal: Oh

Maleficent: my freedom rest on your scrawny little shoulders. Do not fuck it up. Oh for Lucifers sake. She’s back. Hide the human

(Mal looks down. She blanches. She runs back into the room and pulls Carlos into the sleeping area behind the curtain)

Carlos (fearfully): she’s back isn’t she?

(Mal holds his head in her hands. And he falls into a dreamless noiseless sleep. At that moment the door bangs open. A rather tall unkempt doddering figure stands in the doorway smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Her half black and half white hair tangled and greasy. On her skeletal frame hangs an unwashed moulting coat made of dog fur. She’s swaying slightly in a drunken stupor. Despite the six very powerful magic users in the room already the woman exudes an aura of menace that only a human mortal can have

Cruella: CARLOS. WHERE ARE YOU YOU FOUL LI(hic)TLLE WRETCH

Grimhilde: he’s not here De Vil. We sent him back forty minutes ago.

Cruella: well he isn’t there.

Jafar: listen you gin soaked bitch. You know damn well that it takes an hour to get to your hovel.

Cruella: very weh (brarp) ell the then. But I assure you that if he isn’t there. I will find him.

The other three parents: oh you will

(Cruella leaves)

Maleficent: she’s gone. Wake it up

Carlos: is she...?

Jay: yeah

Maleficent: are you quite happy now Mal? I kept the mutt from the drunk. After all I’ve done for you. Won’t you go to Auradon and do this one measly little thing for me?

Mal (resigned to her fate): how long do we have to pack?

Maleficent: to hours. Starting now

(Evie heads to the door)

Grimhilde: wait. You forgot the appliances!

Maleficent: well then open the safe

(Grimhilde, rolling her eyes, opens the fridge door. She chuck the spellbook at Mal who catches it)

Mal: there’re pages missing

Maleficent: Oh. I tore them out. They’re of no use to anyone. After all. Nobody loves you. And they only work if there are wretched feelings originally

Mal (realising what her mother means and feeling even more useless then usual): Oh

Grimhilde: Evie. This mirror can show you anything and everything you want. I assume you know the incantation

Evie: yes mother

Jafar: I don’t have anything to give to you. Frankly I don’t think you’re worth it.

Jay: ok pops.

Maleficent: So you lot pack. And in two hours meet back here for collection

(They teenagers leave)

Carlos: we’re not going to be here this time tomorrow. I. I want to. To dance. But

Mal: I know buddy.

Jay: where the hell are you going

Evie: I’m saying goodbye.

Mal: to what?

Carlos: I know. Don’t worry. I know

(Elsewhere)

Evie (speaking into the mic): hey. You’re probably still in bed and. Um. I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this but. Me Carlos jay and the one who hates me have been picked to go to Auradon. You know. The uh the place where with the princes. I’ll come back. Once I’ve settled in I’ll come back. This is a promise. I promise you that I will come back and get you and bring you back with me. And I would really like it if you came and said goodbye. But if you can’t. Goodbye sis.

(She darts back to Maleficent’s building)

Jay: got everything E?

Evie: yeah

Carlos: you said your goodbyes?

Evie: yes. I gave her the peach

Carlos: naturally

Mal: so how are we gonna do this?

Jay: I sit up front. You next to me. Carlos next you. E next to Carlos.

Mal: of course. Of course. But I was referring to this

(She opens the door and shows the the thousands of sweets and candy and junk food in the limos snack bar)

Mal: bon appétit

(The other three scramble into the limo. Mal looks back at the terrace to see her mother staring coldly down at her. They’re eyes glow in farewell. And Mal gets in the limo between jay and Carlos)

(Later. POV shot. Someone’s running hurriedly to Maleficent’s. They get there just after the limo leaves the barriers confines. Maleficent notices them and sneers)

Maleficent: you are too late my girl. You know she will forget you right. They all will. That illusion of caring she gives will disappear the moment she gets a taste of the life she thinks she deserves. You’d be better off forgetting about. Because you and I both know she will forget about you

(With that she stalks back inside and it starts to rain)

[ashsinmywcke]

First Blood // Chapter One

How old do you have to be, to be called a Woman? Where is the line between the child and the potential mother? For some people these questions have fairly straightforward answers – when you get to eighteen, or twenty one, or sixteen. Some people use events, the first time you bleed, or have sex or get married. Some people are a little more intelligent, they'd say such a thing comes down to individual maturity.

I know the day I became a 'Woman'. And it wasn't down to any one of these things, I didnt welcome it either. It just fucking happened to me like a natural disaster.

So here it is. I'll start from the beginning.

The sound is like this; a band of elastic pulled taught between two points, shaping the ragged screams which resonate over it like a bow sawing so hard over a violin that the strings scrape against the neck, and the horsehair breaks up into a hundred individual strands. And then nothing but a slack gurgling, muted by blood. A dull thump.

With a reflexive motion, I find myself standing. The woman in the seat behind scolds at me for blocking her view.

The puncture in my palm, caused by my vice like grip on my clutch purse, yields a cool drip of blood which runs down my middle finger and drips onto the floor by my foot. The crystal studded purse falls from my hands and shatters into two pieces on the floor like something stupidly fragile. I watch with far away eyes as they roll the body off the straight board f the guilloteen onto a black stretcher, then place the dismembered head at the top. They carry the woman away as if they were paramedics.

I bend double and a jet of searing yellow bile is ejected from my throat down the front of my dress and all down the back of the seat in front. I can feel it burning in my nose. The woman jumps to her feet and shrieks, as if my vomit were the most terrifying thing in the world. She's asking me 'what's wrong with you!?' angrily, again and again, but everybody else's faces, save the few who I've managed to disrupt in about a six foot radius are still turned toward the platform. Some are even applauding. I retch hard again but this time there's nothing to bring up save a long line of spittle which dribbles to the floor in a string as my knees give way under me, the knee split in my black silk gown tearing all the way up to the thigh with a crack as I hit the floor. I don't feel the impact but my eyes turn skyward as I go into free fall and I watch every heavenly body streaking across the black night sky like fireworks, leaving trails in their wake. The light scatters, diffuses and eventually becomes so bright that I clasp my eyes shut against it.

I become remotely aware that my mother is holding me by the shoulders, she's telling me to breathe. I think by now it has been at least three minutes since I last took a breath. A long pause in respiration, even for my species. My eyes open a crack and through the gap in the seats in front I make out the pool of blood on the platform, directly below where the blade had fallen. The sandstone is so stained from years of repeated coating that it seems black with decay, and under the white floodlights the pool seems more black than red. Black like oil, even as I watch one tiny rivulet find it's way to the edge of the stone platform and begin to slowly descend the bricks.

I open my lips to take a breath but the cool air makes my throat spasm and I retch so hard again that I think all of my ribs will break. My arm moves up my body and I hook my fingers under the fine string of red beads around my throat. I pull and the chain breaks scattering little rubies around me with a soft pattering. But it does nothing to relieve the rising nausea in my throat. The people are beginning to disperse, most of them not without a backward look at me. But I become aware of voices. “Oh Lords, Lords, blood! Blood!” They're shouting. What a stupid thing to say, it occurs to me. Of course there's blood, what had they expected? I feel my mother move me onto my side. By now my body feels like an invert lump of clay, heavy, useless, and pinned down by a deep pain that radiates outward from the bottom of my pelvis. It suffuses my abdomen, climbs my spine and shoots down my legs, managing to get right into my bones. “Look, there's blood!” Someone else yells. I cant move, or speak or sit up and spit in their stupid faces and curse them for their idiocy, and my own.

Laid on  my side I watch designer heels and hemlines move back and forth. Most away and out of the amphitheatre but a few move closer around me, so close I can see the gems grafted onto their toenails and the intricate black henna patterns around their ankles. I open my mouth and my lungs expand of their own volition, air rushing in before any words can come out. Somebody is calling for a paramedic but I hear my mother arguing with them, saying she just needs help to get me in the car. At this point I must have lost consciousness for at least a minute or two because when I open my eyes again there are different people standing around me. People in grey uniforms. One of them kneels down and peels away the bottom of my wet dress, looking between my legs. I try to raise my foot to kick him in the face but all I manage is a pitiful muscle twitch. He puts the fabric back in place and stands up, everything above his knee is now out of my field of vision. Still cradled in my mother's arms I hear their short conversation. But not the words, only the cadences. Like when you're trying to listen to a conversation through a wall, or what I oddly imagine an unborn child must hear, not long before it's born. Pressed to my mothers chest I hear her slow heart beat. Then hands are lifting me, the movement causes a spar of pain to form from my tail bone to the top of my neck. I scream, but it passes quickly as I am placed back down again. Then I feel the floor pull away from beneath me as the stretcher lifts, and my eyes swivel up to the sky again. Yaruna is full, and especially red tonight. My head falls to the side and my long hair half cascades over my face but through the veil I can still see the scaffold as I am borne away, much the way the dead woman was. It is only then that I actually wonder if I am dying, but the thought does not fill me with panic. Maybe there is not enough energy left in my body or brain for panic. My mother squeezes my hand and looks down at me. Silhouetted against the stars and illuminated only by the harsh glow of the white floodlights her frightened face looks different than usual. As far as I'm aware my mother has had her face re-sculpted twice, probably more times that she hasn't told me or even my father about. The doctors are very good at what they do, and we have the money to pay for good work. But looking up at her then I see odd new contours and ridges where before there had been none and in my addled horror her face becomes almost alien, almost grotesque to me. I swallow thickly and manage one word : “What?” She shushes me, squeezing my hand, and pushes the hair out of my face. My head lolls to the side again and I focus on the scaffold, it's the last thing I see, like a vanishing point on a far-away horizon, growing smaller and smaller before unconsciousness swallows me, and then nothing.

The Great Lake Ashara lays to the immediate south of the city, and is so dense in minerals that the salt crystals extend to and climb the southernmost walls. It stretches for nearly two hundred miles, end to end. At the eastern point, where the water once lay almost a hundred feet deep there is now a glistening forest of mineral crystals, forming enormous shards and valleys and bristling peaks between the spitting hot water springs which trickle downhill to the shore.

At the very edge of the waterline the lake slumbers almost completely motionless on a day with no breeze, glistening like opal over the salt shore. I shed my clothes and wade into the shallows until I am up to my waist in the warm water. For some reason I feel an instant relief. Cupping my hands I splash the water onto my face, slicking my long hair back. I wade out a little further, take a deep breath and plunge forward and down. My body feels strong. I've always been a good swimmer, and an excellent diver, but now I feel more fish than human. As if standing about on two legs were never really a reflection of my true self. I am a water animal, and swimming hard into the saturated water I reach a depth of twenty feet with ease. Stopping, I let my body turn, and look upward and I see the enormous mid day sun blazing through the water. I wish I could stay there, in the deep, warm, endless silence. I don't need to breathe for another forty minutes, but my own buoyancy is pulling me back toward the surface and all I can do is let it take me.

“Ella? ...Ells?” I open my eyes to the familiar voice. And the world starts to come steaming back through my eyes so I shut them again. I am aware that I am naked, laid flat, reclining at a slight angle against warmed stone. I am half submerged in hot water. Breathing in I feel thick, faintly fragrant steam fill my head and nose. Slowly I open my eyes. My friend Eden is looking down at me. She is ten years older than me. Her hair is lighter and shorter than mine, plaited back from her face in tight braids. Her frame is thin and delicate with narrow wrists and pronounced collar bones. Her pencilled thin eyebrows lower slightly with concern. Her complexion is pale as milk and often draws questions as to whether she is feeling well. She too is sitting in the water with me, her small body pressed close to mine. I reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder. “Eden. Where am I?” My voice is hoarse, but it works, and the pain that had crushed me so entirely has retreated to an insistent ache. I see Eden's face light up with relief. “You're fine. Your mother had you brought to the bath house, she left not long ago. She called me to ask if I would watch you.” I sit up, to the complaint of my back but I manage it. I look around. I usually visit the bathhouse once a week with the other women, but I don't recognise this room. I am not in the pure, crystalline white pools with their delicate fountains. I'm in a room lit by candlelight, the walls are a dark, polished granite, and the pool itself is hewn out of dark red marble. I look down into the water, trying and failing to string all the events together coherently. I frown. Reaching down I scoop up the water in my hand, and only in lifting it out of the maroon bowl do I notice that it too is vivid red. It is only then that everything starts to connect. Eden watches me do the experiment and pins a difficult, thin smile to her face. “You...you had your blood.” She reports what I see with my own eyes. I stare into the water in my hand, watching it as it trickles away between my fingers. I wonder how it can be. I had always assumed that it would never happen, and then, as the years wore on and it didn't, I became more sure of it. I put my face in my hands, and start to sob like a child. Eden pulls my into her arms, her hands finding my waist. She kisses my ear and my cheek. “Oh, Ells, I'm sorry, but-”

     “No!” I yell, the word resounding loudly in the stone room as I shove her away and clamber out of the tub with a splash, blood still trickling between my legs. I lean against the cool stone wall, my bare skin shimmering in the low light. Eden remains still and quiet in the marble pool, watching the blood swirl, barely visibly against the red marble. “I...I can make out that I was ill, that it was an accident.” I say the words realising how stupid they are. “Everybody saw Ells, and your mother too...” Eden replies quietly. I turn back toward her, casting a shadow over her as she sits in the water, her grey-lilac eyes sparkle darkly in the gloom. “I don't care, you hear me? I'm not doing it.”

     “You have to...”

     “Don't fucking tell me what I have to do!” I scream, so loud the sound is painful resounding off of the granite. Eden turns her face away, her mouth is now a sad, straight line. “I'm not, but they will...” She replies in a resigned tone. “And they've had Cael Khuder picked out for you since you were twelve years old.”

     “Fuck Ceal Khuder. I'll make him hate me so much he'll divorce me.”

     “Or he'll kill you.”

Eden's words make me fall silent. The sudden, tragic death of one's dear wife is always so much cleaner than a messy, shameful divorce. Blood is pooling by my heels. I climb numbly back into the pool. The hot water relieves the cramp in my abdomen but I just stare down at the surface numbly. “You will just have to make the best of it Ells...” My friend breathes, sitting across from me. The words chafe me so hard they graze and I look up at her, my lips twisted like I'm holding a piece of sour white lemon on my tongue. “Make the best of it?” I echo, smiling horribly. “Is that what you do Eden? Is that what you tell yourself when your husband touches you? Because...” I move across the pool so I am only two feet from her, the water still up to my waist. “...Because if he knew who you really were they'd take you away, slice you up and put you back in your box and the worst fucking thing about it is...” I smile viciously. “...After that you'd like it.”

It's an appalling thing to say, but as ever Eden says nothing. She doesn't sling the barb back at me. I can tell she's not even thinking about retaliating. And its not even as if she's weak, or stupid or afraid. Actually her acid tongue is well known, and has landed her in trouble more than once. It's one of the things I like so much about her. But it's never for me. No matter how hateful I am toward her. So I take advantage of it, unfairly, I always have. But on the other hand she has always let me. She says nothing, looking down into the hot water, blood swirling around her pale skin like red clouds on a clay sky. When she looks up at me her grey-blue eyes brim with pain. And still she is silent. A part of me wishes she would move forward and hit me as hard as she could across the face. I quite want that, but not as much as I want her as she is. She is wounded and wordless, so I get my wish.

I give a start of mirthless laughter and shake my head. I am grasping, flailing. And within moments my own eyes are full of tears and I am sobbing again. Eden takes me in her arms, then lays me back against the warm stone slope of the opening of the pool. All my cruel words forgiven.

The warmth of her pulls me in and before I think too much about it my hands are in the small of her back and my mouth finds hers. I roll on top of her, pinning her down. Wet skin on wet skin. Ravenous. I grasp onto her for dear life, as if I can fill myself up with her, then there wont be room for the rest of it. For anyone else. Her long fingers fold into my thick hair and she returns the kiss for about ten seconds and I can taste her desire. As I've tasted it before and I want it, I want it because everything else seems like more pain. Again, I take advantage. Eden pushes the heel of her hand against my sternum and parts me from her with a gentle push. She closes her eyes and I know she cant look at me. A sad smile stretches her thin red lips.  “Ells, please don't do that. Please.” She whispers. I gaze down at her and I sigh deeply, letting my forehead rest against hers. My gut twists with guilt. “I'm sorry.” I whisper. “I'm sorry.” I roll off of her, onto my side. “I'm sorry I'm such a hateful bitch.” She laughs, but there's not much mirth in it, and she moves to scoop some hot water out of the deeper part of the bath with her hand, pouring it over me as if I were coals in a sauna. It soothes me. “It's alright.” She whispers simply. I just let myself lay there, and for a while neither of us says anything.

“Did you see the execution?” I ask quietly after a little while. Eden nods. “Yes, I wasn't there but I saw the broadcast.”

     “I wish somebody had told me.”

     “Told you what?”

I think a moment. Blinking in the steam and the low light, as Eden pours hot water over my skin. “I don't know. I suppose I, never really thought it was real. Or it didn't feel real.” The corners of my lips tremble as the memory comes gushing back, but I dam it up, just about. “Your mother took you when you were fifteen didn't she?” I ask. Eden nods. “Did it scare you?” She pauses a moment before her hand resumes it's action. “I'm not sure I would say it scared me.”

     “I don't believe you.”

     “No, that's not what I mean.”

     “Then what do you mean?”

With the last handful Eden's hand comes down to slide over the contour of my waist, over my hip. “I wouldn't say it scared me, because I'd say that it broke me. Every time I saw it.” She cants her head to the side. “I've seen so many now. You don't get used to it. Ever.” My gaze falls, my hand slides across the smooth base of the pool to find the bottom of her ribs. Just the touch is comforting. I notice the still healing scar from what looks like a fresh fat implant on her thigh. My fingers move downward, brushing over it. “You had more surgery? I didn't know.” She shrugs. “It's nothing really.”

     “Was it Mikel's idea?”

     “No, his mother, Lara.” I roll my eyes. “God. I wish you'd learn to ignore that woman.”

     “If you had to spend every day with her you'd understand how nearly impossible that is.”

I laugh, an actual laugh and look up at Eden fondly. My hand moves back to her hip and I give her a squeeze. My eyes move downward to her stomach. Barely three inches above the hair on her pubic mound is another scar, this one much older. Horizontal, about five inches long. “How is Abha?” I ask. She nods. “She's doing well, already speaking two languages. Lara took her out to a runway show last week, and ever since she's been dressing her up in these horrible feathered bodices.” Eden raises her brow cynically. “But she gets complimented wherever I take her, so I suppose I'll have to get used to it.” I brush Eden's cheek with a warm smile. “She'll grow out of it. I think as soon as she can think properly for herself she'll be just like her mother.” I intend the comment kindly, but the words seem to strike Eden with painful sadness. Her face drops. My brow furrows. “What?” Eden shakes her head.

     “I hope to god, every day, that she's not like me.”