#She sounds like she'd go hiking and that sounds terrible

[the-heart-of-leo]

What it's like to go on a date with Robbie Rotten

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

You Hear That?

Week #4 Prompt: Camping | Word Count: 3850 | Rating: T | POV: Robin | Pairings: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie | Characters: Robin, Steve, Eddie, Corroded Coffin, The Party, Nancy & Jonathan | CW: Language, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking | Tags: S3, Reluctant Camping, Unexpected Crossing of Paths, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Boys, Pre-Steddie, Flirting

This is set during the S3 finale. Happening between Starcourt and the "three months later" time jump.

"Camping. Capital camp. Lowercase…ing," Steve says, trailing off at the end, his forehead wrinkling up in confusion as he clearly tries to think through the dumb thing he just said.

"Well, that kinda fell apart on you, didn't it, dingus?" Robin asks, arching her eyebrow in his direction.

"Shut up. You know what I mean. Camping! Fun!" Steve shouts, far too close to her face.

"Back off, Boogaloo. And I beg to differ. Camping is not fun. Camping is torture, and I'm not signing up to be tortured with you again. One and done, at least per summer, that's my official policy."

Steve gives her the eyes, but they aren't gonna work. She's immune to his wiles. The Harrington Charm doesn't do anything to her loins, unfortunately for him.

"No," she says, and that's that. End of discussion.

Three hours later, here she stands, right in the middle of Hunting & Camping, a store in town she never thought she'd ever have to step foot into.

"Steve, you know what lives in those woods. Do you have a death wish?"

"C'mon! There's been nothing, nada, since Starcourt. It's done. Over with. Gone. We can live our lives, go camping, anything we choose."

"Great. But we do not choose camping," Robin insists, "We aren't camping people, are we? There's no haircare in the woods, Steve. Think about that. Long and hard."

"Fine. You stay here. I'll go camping alone," Steve says, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You're not going camping alone!" she screeches, because he'll be killed for sure.

"You're right, I'm not. The kids are demanding to come along. So, it's me and Jonathan."

"Well, that sounds fun for the both of you. Who will come home with a black eye? History says-"

Steve interrupts, "Yeah, yeah. Exactly. So, you have to go. You and Nance. So the girls can come along. Joyce will allow El to go, but only if you ladies go, too."

"Chief Hopper will roll over in his grave if El goes camping with Mike Wheeler present. You and I both know that."

"Well, good thing he'll never know, I guess," Steve says, defiant. "C'mon, Buckley. Are you with me or not?" 

She's always with him, now. That's just how it's gonna be, maybe forever. Or at least until they get eaten in the woods they have no damn business traipsing into.

"Fine, I'm with you. But mark me down as a hostage." 

"Great, love to hear it," Steve says, a big smile on his face, and she reluctantly smiles back. It's contagious, even if she knows this is a terrible idea for many, many reasons.

The trek out to Skull Rock is pretty shitty, but she keeps up. Walking alongside the not so prissy Nancy Wheeler, Erica, El and Max. She should have worn better shoes. Steve should have told her to wear better shoes. Nancy is in hiking boots and Robin is not at all surprised that she's prepared for life in ways Robin will probably never be. 

Up ahead, the boys are arguing, causing a ruckus, and Steve is clearly regretting this decision. Good. He should. This was a terrible idea of, like, epic proportions. Maybe worse than working in a mall with a Russian secret lair underneath it.

"How did you even get to come?" Robin asks Erica. Because she didn't expect her to be standing there on the curb with Lucas, her My Little Pony sleeping bag under her arm.

"Tina is covering for me, duh, so I can hang out with you nerds. Don't know why I even want to though," she says, snippy, and Robin grins. She's funny.

"Maybe we should have invited Tina," Robin says.

"And risk her seeing I even know you nerds? Absolutely not," Erica says, like she's totally disgusted, and Robin laughs. 

"Okay, hot shot," she answers, watching as Nancy stops behind Steve and the boys, as they scout out a spot that might work.

"Here?" Jonathan asks, and Steve nods, agreeing.

Steve is finishing putting up the tents, all of them, because nobody is helping him, not even Nancy. He kind of had this coming, it was all his terrible idea.

"You hear that?" Steve asks, head turned towards the sky, like he's a damn dog. 

"Hear what?" Robin asks. She doesn't hear anything. "Is it a monster? A bear? It better not be a bear, I swear-"

"It's not a bear. It's a guitar," Steve says, driving the last of the tent poles into the ground.

"A guitar? In the woods?" Who the hell would be playing a guitar in the woods. Probably some sort of demented fairy, destined to murder them all, given the opportunity. 

"I hear what I hear, Buckley. I'm gonna investigate," Steve says.

"Well, it was good knowing you, Harrington," Robin answers, because everybody knows you don't go blundering into the woods, especially if it sounds like you're being lured there, for fuck's sake.

Steve would definitely be the first to die in a horror movie.

Except, she knows that's not true. He's more capable than she ever could have expected, especially for being such a big dingus.

Steve just waves her off, and starts stomping off into the underbrush. Heading towards the sound she definitely doesn't hear.

But after a little hesitation, she follows. He can't go alone. She knows what could happen if he does.

"I knew you'd come," he crows, pleased with himself.

"Shut up, dingus," she mutters, and the further they walk, the more she thinks Steve was right. There is the faint sound of a guitar.

And laughing. 

Steve pushes apart the branches of a bush, just enough for them to see through it, together. Spying. 

It feels familiar.

And there's the culprit, Eddie Munson from band, sitting around a fire with some other boys, playing his guitar. Jeff Williams, Jackie's older brother, is one of them, she's pretty sure. 

They have a case of beer, and she's pretty certain that's the faint stench of weed hanging in the air.

"It's just Eddie Munson," Steve whispers, like she isn't aware of that. 

"Yeah, I have eyes, I can see that it's Eddie and his cronies."

Steve lets the branches go, and she is sure they're gonna turn around and leave, but they aren't that lucky. Honestly, they'd have no luck at all if they didn't have bad luck.

"Hey! Who the fuck is there?" Eddie yells, the guitar playing ceasing.

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing forward, out into the open, "It's just me, Munson, cool your jets."

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Harrington?" Eddie asks, then clearly catches a glimpse of Robin, "Oh. I see."

"Ew, no, you see nothing," Robin says, feeling the urge to clear up that misunderstanding right away. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize band geek Robin Buckley was too good for King Steve Harrington."

"Way too good," she snarks, and Eddie laughs, really laughs, and Steve doesn't, but she can tell he's amused and not mad.

"If you're not out here to fuck, then what brings you two into our neck of the woods?" Eddie asks, slouching over towards them.

"Your neck of the woods? I'm the one that popularized this spot, I'll have you know," Steve snaps, bitchy, arms crossed.

Robin smiles.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, offering Steve a big, predatory smile.

"Definitely sure that's so," Steve answers, not backing down.

"That's not how I've heard it," one of the other guys shouts from near the fire they've lit, and Robin isn't sure who he is. 

"And you are? The forest authority?" Robin asks, challenging him.

"Yep. That's me," he snaps back, but doesn't offer up his name.

"That's just Gareth," Eddie says, "don't mind him."

Oh, no way. Gareth Jones? The goofy kid she had to deal with at her job at The Hawk last summer that drove her insane? His mother dropped him off nearly every afternoon, money in hand, and he always made a fucking mess with his popcorn and Reese's Pieces. He might be the number one reason she took the job at Scoops this summer, instead of going back to theater. Looking at him now, he's sure changed. Growth spurts are a bitch, she supposes. 

"Nice hair," she snarks at him, looking at his poodle-looking head. He's clearly trying to grow it out, probably to be more like Eddie, but it just isn't there yet, and his curls definitely aren't making things easy on him.

"What are you doing out here, anyway? Dirty freak orgy?" Steve asks, and Robin doesn't know how she got so lucky to have such a bitchy boy as a best friend, but she loves her good fortune. 

Eddie laughs, and she sees Steve smile at him.

"Why? You wanna join?" Eddie asks, leering, taking a lazy, sauntering step closer to Steve, assuming he'll back down. Eddie's hands are framing his belt buckle, drawing the eye, even her eye, and it's so gross but she's also very intrigued to see how this pans out. 

Eddie's not gonna scare Steve with the fear of the queer, and she was right, Steve doesn't back down, like she knew he wouldn't.

"Maybe I do," Steve says, rubbing his lips together, tongue wetting them in a gross taunting way, and Robin wants to spray him with a garden hose, but doesn't have that option, so instead she just watches as Eddie's eyes flick down to Steve's slick, glossy lips. 

Gross. Fuck her whole life. She takes back all the stuff about loving her good fortune. This is bad fortune. Like, empty fortune cookie levels of bad luck. Russians under the ice cream shop you work in, rotten luck. Honestly.

But Steve wins this round, because Eddie is the one that retreats, but he's laughing as he does it, waving his hand for them to follow. They're not gonna do that, right?

Wrong. Steve follows, so she trails behind.

"Gareth, you've met," Eddie says, "Jeff. Goodie. We didn't know we were encroaching on King Steve's territory, but we're just hanging out, camping, if that's alright with you two."

"I guess," Steve says, teasing, fucking flirting if she's not mistaken. Can't he ever turn it off? Ugh. "We're camping down there. With the kids I babysit. I heard your guitar, wanted to make sure you weren't straight out of Deliverance, or, like, ax murderers."

"Well, I am that, or haven't you heard?" Eddie asks, dimple showing up in the firelight. And Robin doesn't know how she's here right now. She should have stayed with Nancy and Jonathan and just let Steve be eaten by bears or monsters. Or Eddie Munson. Whatever.

"Heard what?" Steve asks.

"Hellfire Club!" Eddie shouts, waving his arms in an animated way, and Robin doesn't know what that is, and clearly Steve doesn't either.

"Sorry, man. Is that your band?" Steve asks, looking as confused as she feels.

"No, that's Corroded Coffin!" Gareth snaps, popping off, all pissy from the log he's sitting on.

"Sorry, my bad," Steve says.

"We play at The Hideout on Tuesdays," Gareth says, eyes narrowed.

"You play in a bar. You?" Robin asks, not believing a word of this. Not possible.

Gareth starts to answer, but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts him off.

"I'm channeling Satan. And I'm offended you don't know that, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's face is pure confusion, and Eddie laughs, taking pity on him, "It's the D&D club I run," Eddie adds, and Robin sees the light bulb pop on over Steve's head, like he's in a goddamn cartoon.

"Oh! The kids play that," Steve says.

"Do they now?" Eddie asks, not believing him, clearly.

"Unfortunately."

"And how old are these kids?" Eddie asks.

"Freshman, in the fall-" Steve says.

"Fresh blood," one of the guys says, cackling under his breath, as Steve keeps talking.

"-but I think Will is moving," Steve finishes.

"Will Byers, the zombie boy?" Eddie asks.

"Ssshh!" Steve hisses, "Don't call him that, okay?"

Eddie holds up his hands, backing off.

"Okay, okay, Harrington, don't get so worked up. I was just kidding," Eddie says, and the other boys all laugh.

"Well, it's not funny," Steve says, softly, "just. Don't. Okay?"

"Okay," Eddie concedes. 

"Thank you, he's been through a lot," Steve says, looking back over his shoulder, like the kids might all be snooping right behind them. Which, fair enough. They would totally do that, given half a chance.

"Well, since you're here, you want a beer or…?"

And Steve's nodding, like an idiot. 

Robin snags his arm, "Nancy will kill you." 

And Eddie takes a step back, hands going up, "Well, we wouldn't want the girlfriend mad." 

"She's not my girlfriend," Steve says, looking at Robin, "and Nancy can handle the kids for a bit, yeah? She's got Jonathan."

Robin is sure this is a bad idea. Nancy will be pissed about being left, and probably be pissed at Steve for having a beer or a toke, or whatever he has planned, while he's supposed to be in charge of the kids. 

"You're camping with your ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend and...Robin from band? Oh, how the mighty have fallen." 

Steve doesn't take the bait, just pushes forward and sits down on the fallen log, right next to Gareth, who squawks in protest. 

Eddie follows, and hands Steve a beer, and then offers one to Robin. She shakes her head no, one of them needs to keep their sanity, she thinks, and then she watches as Eddie lights up a joint. Great. 

They pass it around, and she's not sure what they're doing here. These guys don't like them, and they definitely don't like these guys. 

Every time Eddie came into Scoops, as soon as he was gone, Steve would say something about Eddie "The Freak" Munson. And now he's just hanging out with him, like that's a normal thing to do? 

It's not a normal thing to do. Not at all.

"So, you're babysitting tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve answers.

"Shame, I'd like to get The King all fucked up," Eddie says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands cupping his face.

"Don't call me that. High school is over. Steve is fine," Steve says, and the other boys all laugh, and Eddie throws up another hand and they all stop.

Toadies. The toadiest of the toadies.

"Steve," Eddie says, and it's positively lewd. 

"Thank you," Steve says, taking a long drag, holding it in his lungs, showing off, slowly killing himself in the process, she's sure of it. Idiot.

Robin shakes her head.

Then she feels something brushing her shin, and jumps, expecting a snake, or something worse, but it's just the boy she doesn't know, toeing at her with his shoe, offering her a can of Coke, cold and dripping with ice water from the cooler at his side.

She takes it, "Thanks. I'm Robin."

"Goodie," he says, like he isn't at all interested.

"Goodie?" she asks, and makes eye contact with Jeff Williams.

"It's a nickname," Jeff explains, like she might have thought otherwise? 

But she just nods.

"I'm in your class," Goodie says dryly, and are they? She swore they were a year younger.

"Sorry, we must not have classes together very often, if ever," she says.

"Of course we don't, you were always in all those smart classes," Goodie snaps, and she laughs. Mrs. Click's history class with Steve Harrington was not the smart class, even if she was a year ahead of where she was supposed to be. 

"Eddie, though…"

"Hey!" Eddie snaps, having heard it, somehow, despite talking to Steve at the same time. 

Robin knows Eddie is headed into his third senior year, this time with her class. The rumor mill had been running wild at the end of last year, and it seems to be true, she guesses.

"Well, third time's the charm?" she asks, because what the fuck do you say to that? Sorry you flunked high school, again.

"Here's to hoping," Eddie answers, then turns his attention back to Steve.

Nancy really is gonna kill them if they don't head back, and soon. 

"Steve, Nancy…"

"I know," Steve answers, "let me finish this beer and we're gone."

She nods, because unless she wants to stomp back through the woods all by herself, she doesn't have much choice in the matter. 

Gareth hands her a stick with a marshmallow stuck in the end, and she takes it. She could have a s'more if she has to wait. It's the least they could do, she supposes, and she pokes it into the fire, starting to toast it up.

"Have you ever had one with a Reese's cup?" Gareth asks, holding up the package, an offer.

She hasn't, but now she wants to, for sure, and takes it from his hand, nodding in thanks. 

"You used to work at the theater, right?" he asks.

"Unfortunately," she says.

"I went there a lot," he says.

"Oh, I'm well aware," Robin says, snarky.

And Goodie and Jeff both laugh, and it really wasn't that funny, she doesn't think.

"Haha, she knew you had a crush on her!" Goodie says, poking at Gareth with his roasting stick, as Gareth tries to bat it away.

"How embarrassing for you," Jeff adds, smirking, catching Robin's eye.

He did what now?

"I did not!" Gareth screeches in a way that says he probably, definitely did. 

"I'm sure he didn't," she says, though, cutting him some slack, "If he did, he surely wouldn't have made such a gross mess for me to clean up everyday he was in there, right?"

"See? I was gross," Gareth clings to the accusation, like that's an improvement. Whatever helps him sleep at night.

"Okay, Pig-Pen," Jeff says, and Gareth is flushed. Probably from the embarrassment, but if he's not stupid, he'll play it off as the heat rolling off the sure to be illegal campfire.

Goodie laughs at the taunting, and she is so distracted that she almost burns her marshmallow, but she pulls it out and blows the flame out, just leaving a nice char. Sweet. Just how she likes them.

She puts the peanut butter cup on the graham cracker, and places the warm marshmallow on top, covers it with the other cookie, and is just squeezing it all together into a gooey mess when Steve leans over her shoulder and plucks it right out of her hand, taking a bite.

"Bad dingus, no!" she snaps, but just starts the process to toast another marshmallow. It'll be much easier to do that than fight for her original one from Steve's mouth. And she knows where that mouth has been, so no thank you.

"Thanks, Rob," Steve says, and she grumbles in response, but Gareth, Jeff and Goodie all laugh. Eddie is too busy plucking away at his guitar again, and he really doesn't sound half-bad.

She makes her second s'more, they say their thank yous and goodbyes, and start walking back towards their own campsite.

"So, what was that?" she asks, looking over at Steve, but it's really too dark now to see any of his features.

"What was what?" he asks, and it sounds like he honestly doesn't know.

"Whatever that was with Eddie?"

"What was? He's Eddie "The Freak" Munson, it was nothing," he says, and it doesn't sound like he's lying. Is he unaware he was flirting? Is that even possible?

She weighs her options. She's really gonna need more data. Maybe they'll cross paths again with Eddie Munson, and she'll be able to suss it out better.

"Nothing, I guess," she answers, and he just nods like he's not the least bit curious about what she meant.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting at the edge of the campsite, and Nancy has a flashlight in hand. When she sees them approaching, she shines it right into their eyes.

"Jeez, Nance, put that thing down," Steve says, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of light, as Robin does the same over her own eyes.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Nancy asks, hands on her hips and she looks just like Steve, like that. It makes Robin smile.

"Bears. Checking for bears," Steve says.

"Well, either those bears threw shit at you in self-defense, or you have chocolate smeared all over your faces," Nancy declares, oh so dryly.

They both reach up to wipe at their faces, licking their lips.

"That's what I thought," Nancy accuses.

"Steve heard a guitar, it was Eddie Munson and his friends. They had s'mores," Robin caves, admitting to everything. Well, almost everything. 

"You ate s'mores? From Eddie Munson?" Jonathan asks, then mumbles under his breath, "Wonder what those were laced with?"

Robin stills, she doesn't want to be drugged again, no way, but then laughs. She'd opened the candy herself, and unless Eddie had the forethought to lace the marshmallows or graham crackers, it seems unlikely.

And she's pretty sure Eddie's reputation is more bark than bite, anyway.

The kids must hear them talking, because they cause a commotion coming over, Dustin getting right into Steve's face.

"Back off, Henderson," Steve says, holding him by both shoulders, pushing him away.

"I smell beer! Steve's been drinking beer while in charge of us!" Dustin screams, and the other kids just look at him like he's lost his mind.

"So?" Lucas asks.

"Can I have one?" Mike tries, and Nancy and Steve both snap no at the same time, and he turns sullen.

"I had one beer, to be nice. To be friendly. Just to make sure we won't be, you know, messed with, or any of that dumb shit," Steve argues, hands waving.

"Sure, sounds likely," Dustin says, like the sarcastic little shit that he is. 

"Well, that's what happened," Steve says, not rising to Dustin's bait, at least not yet.

"And just who did you have this beer with?" Dustin demands to know, hands on his hips. Have they all picked up this gesture from Steve? It's looking likely, at this point, and Robin worries for herself that she might be doing it without realizing. The horror.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says.

"Eddie Munson!" Dustin screeches, "He runs the Hellfire Club at the high school!"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard," Steve says, resting his hand on the top of Dustin's head, ruffling his hair through his hat, "I put in a good word for you guys."

"No way, did you really?" Dustin asks, looking up at Steve, awed.

"I did, I told him to look for you in the fall. Now leave me be, you little dickhead, and don't make me take it back," Steve answers, and Dustin rushes back towards the other boys, suddenly excited about the prospect of maybe having an in to get into Hellfire Club.

Whatever floats his boat, she supposes.

Robin looks at the tents, and the small, very contained fire Nancy and Jonathan built while they were gone. 

Looking at it now, camping might actually be fun. 

At least for one night, anyway.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🏕️

[pearl484-blog]

WIP Hand Me The Shovel

Nino is worried about Adrien. He's been working on some mysterious project for some time now for every waking moment of the day for months now. The few times that Nino sees him, Adrien always looks, paler, skinnier, and with darker circles under his eyes, and each time, Adrien rushes him away. Then, one day, Adrien called, and invites Nino on a camping trip. And Nino, of course, says yes. Together, they journey far out to the country side until they reach a small, but luxurious cabin with a waterfront view. As they unpack their belongings and prepare a nice dinner, Adrien remains quiet, always responding to Nino’s questions, but never actually SAYING anything. It's beyond maddening for Nino. Until, finally, a breakthrough. During dinner, Adrien nervously brings up the idea of going for a hike to test out a new gadget he'd bought. It isn't like Adrien to buy things on a whim, and it really isn't like him to be so nervous. Deep down, Nino knows that this isn't a normal hike. Yet he loves Adrien. So he says yes. The next day, Nino’s suspicions are confirmed when Adrien pulls out a device that Nino’s never seen before and starts scanning every bisible inch of dirt they can find, backtracking frequently. Half-joking, Nino asks Adrien if its a metal detector or something, and Adrien gives a rueful smile back before saying its something like that. He doesn't elaborate, and he clams up even tighter for the rest of the search. That is until, he lets out a gasp.

Its part relief and part resignation, but Nino doesnt quiet understand why. Then, Adrien tells Nino the terrible truth. "This is my grave," he tells Nino. "Adrien Agreste's grave". If Nino were a younger man, he might've dismissed Adrien as being crazy or a liar, but living in Paris under the reign of teeror that was Hawkmoth does things zo a person. So instead Nino asks Adrien if he's a ghost. "No", Adrien chokes out, shaking his head. "A sentimonster" "Okay", Nino says, nodding slowly. He can handle this. He knows senti-monsters, more than he knows ghosts. "How long-?" "Since I was 8," Adrien admitted, "or he was 8? I dunno. It's so complicated. I mean, where does he start and I begin?" Nino nods, pretending to understand. Then, faking a calm he doesn't feel, he asks, "What happened?" Adrien shakes his head. "He was swimming in the lake, and...and he drowned. Mom and Dad, they didn't want any questions. So....so they put him here, and they just went home and pretended it never happened." Adrien starts crying. "They made up some fake story about Adrien being sick, and then Mom started doing experiments with the Peacock. There were so many, she'd made herself sick doing it, but...she made me." 'Maybe? Or maybe it someone else! I...I don't even know if I was the one she replaced him. Maybe she made us over and over and over again, just brand new dolls in a line to give the illusion of growing up! Maybe she threw us away every time we were too big a disappointment!" Adrien threw his hands up in frustration. "I've always been a coward! A spineless little lapdog, and I know part of it was because my Dad- No, my father who, by the way-" Adrien laughed, sounding a little hysterical, "was not a hero, but actually HAWKMOTH! Had my amok! So, I was under freaking Hawkmoth's control, but what about everyone else?" 'How much of me was just designed to be a people pleaser? How much of me was made to make my parents feel good and how much was actually what he-" Adrien gestures angrily towards the grave, "was like?" Nino is quiet for a moment. "That Adrien isn't my friend. He's not the one i met in school. He's not the one I hung out with every day in class. He's not the one who listened to all my music." "Don't you get it?" Adrien asks bitterly. "That Adrien doesn't exist. I'm just a bunch of commands for a friggin' psycho!" "You helped with the Rebellion." "I was probably a spy." "You tried to curb Chloe's worst impulses." Adrien laughs, "Yeah, look where that got us." "You care about me." Nino says softly. "Even though your dad hated me, you still love me. That's all you. That has to count for something." Adrien’s silent for a moment. "He was a bad guy." "The worst." "And no one knows what he did. They all think he was some hero! Heck, I thought he was a hero until I found some of my mom's old journals, and even then, I didn't believe it. I mean, who would?" 'But I double checked everything she said, and I found most of the people she talked about, and I put together names and faces and dates and things, and everything lined up...but...their own son? I had to know."

[giulolosblackmail]

cozytober2024: 17. Spooky Stories That Turn Out To Be True

(This takes place directly after the jewellery adventure rerun willow quest line)

Viviane didn't know what brought her here to this beach, not tonight. Maybe it was the nostalgia after talking to her lady about it. It had been a happy place as a child, haunted or not. She had fond memories of playing with the other neighborhood kids, daring each other to stay out later and later in hopes of seeing the ghost, just to get dragged back home before bedtime by their parents, or in Viviane's case by her friend's parents.

She'd never heard the singing herself, only secondhand accounts. Someone who had drunk too much and fell asleep on the beach, just to be woken by a haunting melody. Things like that. Just enough to make you wonder.

The moon, barely a sliver, was high in the sky and Viviane was the only sleepless soul still wandering the sand. It was dark, too dark to see much of anything, and the ocean beyond was pitch black, yawning like a great maw, wet and lapping at the precious little shore.

Viviane shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders when she heard it. She froze, straining to listen under the quiet sounds of the city at night. It sounded like singing. Viviane's heart raced.

She had never been a coward, not really, but she also knew well enough when to run. Running keeps you safe, but she'd done plenty of unsafe things, hadn't she? And she always had been too curious for her own good. Viviane took a deep breath and hiked up her skirts in one hand, ready to run, just in case, and crept slowly forward, towards the abandoned lighthouse.

As she came closer she could make out a figure, indistinct, draped in a long black cloak that hung over their face. She couldn't see who it was and moved closer. She could hear better now. It was a wrenching, grieving thing, the melody. She could almost pick out words when she wiped at her chin and realized she was crying. She was afraid to get closer.

"The dim light falls," the figure sang, "in the eternal silence..." Viviane couldn't help herself, she gasped out a sob and the song froze in the air, the quiet in its absence all consuming. The figure turned to look at her and Viviane turned and ran, gasping through tears and trying desperately not to fall as she ran blindly in the dark. She ran all the way home, gasping all the while, and locked her door shut behind her. Her brother got out of bed to complain that she had woken him up, so she threatened him into going back to bed.

She sat up late that night, in her own bed, watching the crack under her bedroom door. Her lady had been haunted before, terrible night terrors and hallucinations of being burned alive, so real that she could feel the heat, gasping in smoke Viviane couldn't find. She stayed up all night in the hopes that the ghost would get bored and decide not to haunt her. She was never going back to that beach.

[sawyerbirke]

🔥💚⚽🧠

(Make my muse talk about:)

⚽ Hobbies

Hobbies...? I dunno, I'm not that complicated. I like hiking. Reading. Oh, I whittle. I like working with wood. I used to make a lot of models that way. Kind of debated getting into handcrafted cabinetry for a while before I started my job, which, uh

...yeah, I guess I'm about to be let go from that really soon. I wonder if I've been reported missing yet.

...

Wire art is also fun. Anything hands on, really.

🧠 Expertise

Expert... not really. One thing that I think is pretty good is my sense of direction. I hardly ever get lost. This might sound weird, but it's like... every place I go has this kind of feeling, like, if I've been somewhere before, I know it. It's not the same feeling everywhere, either, some places are sort of light and bright, some are heavy, some are fast and, uh, sparkling? Sometimes that's how I remember faces, too, I never forget a face. I don't know if that's a common thing or what.

The place I am now is really hard to describe, but it-- it doesn't feel good, it's like

l̴i̵k̶e̶ ̶s̶o̶m̸e̵t̸h̵i̴n̵g̴'̶s̵ ̸t̷r̷y̶i̴n̶g̶ ̸t̵o̶ ̷t̶u̴r̸n̸ ̴m̸e̵ ̸i̷n̵s̷i̵d̸e̵ ̷o̶u̸t̷

like this heavy, hot electricity, like every brick I step on, I'm stepping into somebody's eye. This place is old. It's so terribly old. I don't know how I know, but it is. And behind it is this huge yawning nothing, like something in my own body flatlined and I'm still somehow alive.

💚 Friends / family members

I have a sister and a brother. Daniel's quiet, but so good at music. I was trying to encourage him to publish some of his stuff, even some guitar covers or something, but it's kind of hard for him. I hope he does it, he's great. He does acoustic guitar, keyboard, electronic stuff... he was looking at bass guitar, too. I hope he does! Maybe he's too chill to be famous, but he deserves it.

Lottie, her name's Charlotte but she goes by Lottie-- it's crazy but I think she'd actually be into this place. She's so much braver than me, and she's only a kid. It's not that I think she would know what to do, she's ten, but... she'd have ideas. She always has an idea. I think she'd even like some of these horrible things in jars I'm sitting here with. One time, she came out of the woods with this frog in her hat that had five legs. She said a woman in a tree had shown it to her. I said I wouldn't tell anyone--you know, once I confirmed that this was her imagination and not like an actual human person out there--but it felt really good that she trusted me.

🔥 Fears / worries

That I'll never see them again.

[silverchangeling]

"aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH"

THUNK

The sound was deafening. Like a screaming boulder landed in our backyard.

"Molly!" crooned Grandma, like this was most standard noise in the world "Could you go check on that? I think it came from the backyard."

But I had already paused my stream, slipped into my crocs, and was heading out the backdoor. Or well, fumbling with the blinds. I couldn't believe my eyes. Had an angel literally fallen from heaven?

A young woman- no older girl? She looked like a cross between a Moon Princess and a British one. I rushed to her side. She spoke mostly like a British Princess though.

At first she was incomprehensible. Speaking fast, with too many "thees", "thous", royal "Wes" and- I'm no English major- but I thought her grammer was terrible. At a certain point I think she realized she was speaking gibberish. She calmed down, and spoke in a more comprehensible voice that sounded like an anime girl mimicking old British English.

"We know this'll sound quite absurd." She looked at me to see if I understood, and I nodded "But I'm your Uncle. Something happened to Us- erh, me on Our hiking trip. We were- Uhm, hit by truck."

I blinked. What the hell was she talking about? For one, Uncle Ted stopped by a few hours ago. I whipped out my phone to text that asshole, but the mystery girl stole my phone, pressed an odd button, and called him instead.

Uncle Tom's eternally irritated voice replied "Damn it, Mi- Molly" that asshole couldn't even get my name right "I just started by damn hike- wait WHAT THE HELL IS DRIVING-?"

The phone screamed as some horrible crunching and screeching rubber on dirt noise blared from its speakers. I was too dumbfounded to react.

Grandma's voice broke the silence "Wowee girlie, you look like someone whose been stolen away by the fae and now back again if I've ever seen one."

"No no no no-" The princess girl repeated, seemingly determined to clear up this point "We were isekai'd." ---

After some explaining, reciting of information, and profuse apologizing I could maybe believe this girl was once my uncle. Although now she was apparently "legally adopted" by my grandmother. Or at least according to the documentation that dropped with her. Well, even our records collaborated that she's been here for a while, even though Grandma and I know its different. Very fae-like, according to Grandma.

Anyway, Grandma and I decided that she could stay for the night. The girl was getting more understandable by the hour, and maybe by tomorrow she'd sound somewhat normal.

So tomorrow, I'm in my PJs, making myself some toast with Grandma, when the girl prostrates herself before me. She finally looks a bit more normal- like an extremely photogenic casual weeb girl rather than a "Cosplay beauty pageant winner" weeb girl.

"I wanted to apologize again for mistreating you, Molly!" The girl squeaked out. "The person I was before well- I was very narrow-minded. And not a good person…"

My bread popped from the toaster. I spread some of Grandma's jam on it. Unfortunately, I didn't have it in my heart to stay mad at little Miss Moon Princess, even if she was once my 5th shittiest family member. "Alright, I forgive you."

"Thank you!" She hopped back upright, nervous but slightly more excited. Her eyes shone with puppy-like "I- uhm- Also I go by Summer now!… The title I used to go by, in the other world, is a bit of mouthful and more than embarrassing." she looks sidewise as though she's rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in her head "So yeah! Call me Summer!"

"Very fae-touched name." Grandma muttered to me. The comment did not go unnoticed by Summer.

"Let- let me tell you my story over breakfast!" Summer seemed adamant to set the story straight. Grandma and I sat, armed with toast and fruit, preparing for whatever strange tale lay ahead of us.

Summer began to recount her journey, "So I was walking in the woods and I got hit by a truck- which you heard, Molly. In retrospect, its kind of a weird place to get struck by traffic. Anyway, I thought I died, but instead I woke up in this floaty white space. Some kind of goddess approached me. She said- 'If you reincarnate as a hero and defeat the demon lord, I'll send you home with any loot you find.' And considering I was dead, I had no choice by to accept her offer!"

Grandma looked at me once and stated "Faeries love bargains like this-"

Summer began gesturing wildly to get our attention "SO I get reincarnated as this super cute babe you see before you! And I was like 'weird! I'm a girl now!' and it took some time to get used to but I guess I kinda like it? Like I'm way softer now! You- you know how it is right???" she motioned at her different assets, before realizing what she was doing, stopping, blushing, and continuing her story.

"Anyway! I went on this really wild and long quest. Its WAY too much for one story session. But- OH YEAH I have my sword!" She pulled a flaming sword out of an apparent void located within her chest. With a single dramatic swipe, I think she singed one of my stray hairs.

"And uhm, I also have my inventory in here-" She reached her hand deep within her cleavage. Random junk dropped from her V-neck onto the table. "Here's those elixirs I forgot to use…. Ah yeah, you always need antidotes! Wish I had them before the swamp… Here's the farmer's keys from that quest I forgot I was on, hope he didn't need them… Oh yeah, this baby!" She pulled out a very futuristic-looking rocket "Never got to use the intercontinental missile, but it was plan B if everyone's hopes and dreams weren't enough to slay the demon lord!"

Grandma side-eyed to me "Not many people know this, but the fair-folk love high-grade explosives."

Summer forced a go-getter smile "ANYWAY, we totally rocked that demon lord, the witch and I got married, and we became princesses! It was a really chill 100 years or so, but then the goddess appeared to me in a dream and was all 'you're time is up, you're soul can't stay in this realm any longer.' So she sent me home, and here I am! I was totally isekai'd. Believe me now?"

"Mostly" replied Grandma.

"No." I blurted out.

Summer deflated a little. "O-okay. I know its all a little hard to believe… I just hope you find it in your heart to believe me one day! I was totally isekai'd!" ----

Poor girl. Even with her bombshell body, she had little luck in love. I think Summer's journeys in wherever-the-hell left her a little naïve. She had texted me to pick her up from the bar. I wonder who broke up with her this time- wasn't too soon since her last girlfriend?

When I got to the local pub, Summer was in her favorite quiet spot in the corner. When she saw me, she instantly motioned me towards her. God, she was unreasonably cute, even as a sobbing mess.

"Da Mayor… waz just the farmer with a hat. Da Demon Lord waz just the farmer with a mustache." Summer glumly sniffled at me, like any of this meant something to me.

"Slow down- " I slid into the booth to comfort her, "What's bothering you?"

"The barmaid was the goddess, but wizout the wings and the glowy lights!" Summer complained into her drink

"Uhm… who broke up with you now?" I rubbed her shoulder to try to calm her

"I WAZ ABDUCTED BY FAERIES THE WHOLE TIME!" she slammed her mug for emphasis "Isekai obsessed fairies… The other swordsman on my team…. Waz named Kirito! He WAZ JUST KIRITO."

Summer continued. "Grandma was right." Grandma did have a tendency to be right about these things. "The faeries tricked me… I had tropey-est isekai adventure ever! They made me do BEACH EPISODES! They told me it WAS A YEARLY HOLIDAY. I don't think medieval societies invented bikinis yet…"

I tried to calm her. "Its okay! It doesn't matter what kind of adventure you had! You're back now!" With a few pats, Summer seemed to calm down. Slowly, she seemed to be returning to her natural cheer, a state not unlike an excitable and innocent puppy.

Summer wiped a tear from her eye. "Really?"

"Really."

I helped Summer get up, and slowly moved her to my car.

Maybe another day I'll let her know that she exhibits a number of fae-touched qualities. And at a different time, tell her comical levels of clumsiness, which always leaves her ass-up on the ground on a daily basis, is not normal.

But those are revelations for other days.

[townofcadence]

Artair didn't need to ask what she meant. He knew enough, to understand what the subtext of what she said was. He was more than familiar with Azeroth and its bloody history, that it wasn't even a question. He knew enough from his own experiences as well. You didn't need war to grieve, to hear someone scream as their own heart shattered. Unfortunately much of his life revolved around that. Terrible misfortunes, and loss. His mouth thinned, but he nodded. "I don't know what happened to her, but she was.....yeah."

Wendy answered Salena, John clearly uninterested in speaking further for the moment. "Uh... well we came here, because John knows I.... I like ghost stories and hearing about them. I kind of always wanted to know if they could be real." She almost looked ashamed, fingers knitting themselves together. "We were just hiking the trails when we decided to do a little exploring since the weather was so clear. Not far from the trail. Like we'd said already."

She turned a hand as she spoke. "We found some caves with things in them. Mostly just some really old equipment and things like that. A few personal belongings too. Probably... from people who've come here before? Or people who left it...for whatever reason." She didn't need to say more, the implications heavy in the air. "We looked around, took some pictures, and left. We'd made it almost back to the trail, and then.... the storm rolled in. And just kept getting worse and worse."

"That---that might make sense...." Artair rubbed at his arm. "I mean, it might've been unrelated to you guys but... but maybe if you trespassed, it made her territorial." It didn't match what she'd said, but it might be they disturbed her resting place enough to rouse her spirit, and her grief and rage might be unrelated to anything happening recently. It could be she was still stuck in whatever moment had ended her life, whatever reason she had for remaining here. Some spirits went dormant after long periods until something changed again, and many didn't even know they were dead. It wasn't unprecedented, and was common enough it could be the case here, too. "If that is what happened, it's possible she'll settle again now that you've left the area."

"So.... if we wait it out, the storm might go away?" Wendy sounded hopeful.

"Maybe." Artair shrugged. "It's...hard to say. Something else might've happened, too. But hopefully that's the case."

Salena didn't say anything back to John, rather turning her attention back to her brother. His voice was low, and it had been something that helped make her growl fade. The Darkmoon Faire hadn't been something that crossed her mind in the moment. She didn't go... that often. Much of her own world view was in... the front lines and missions. Those were based in fact. She glanced away, crossing her arms over her chest.

She kept herself silent, listening for the time being. It was when Artair mentioned 'grieving' in particular that she let her eyes fall back on him, "I had a suspicion about that as well... I didn't feel her like you did, but... well..." She glanced up to Wendy and John, considering her words carefully. Given the way John reacted to the idea of spirits being real... war wouldn't go well.

"I've been around a fair amount of conflict... and I know what grief sounds like..."

Salena closed her eyes, letting her mind wander. So the spirit that was meant to be nothing more than an urban legend was real... and then there was something Wendy and John had mentioned. They'd come here because of that legend... and they mentioned it hadn't gotten worse until they had gotten to a certain point, which was what led them here.

She opened her eyes, "You two. What were you doing before the snow started getting very bad?"

[violenttempest]

(Tati Gabrielle) [THE ORACLE]. Please welcome [TARI PARK (SHE/HER)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [26]-year-old [VISITOR] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [MANAGER AT O'CONNELL OUTDOORS]. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

Name: Tari Park

Nicknames: Ri, T, TP

Face Claim: Tati Gabrielle

Age: 26

Gender/Pronouns: cis female, she/her

Orientation: Questioning

Town Visitor

Neither Hunter Nor Gatherer

Occupation: Manager at O'Connells

Traits: Sarcastic, Untrusting, Adaptable, Resilient

Bio:

As a little girl Tari that being different was a strength. She'd tried to take that and turn it into something. Time was not her friend. At five Tari started to lose her sight and despite doctors best efforts there was no way to stop it. By fifteen all that was left was some ability to pick up light and that's how it stayed. She was determined though. Things were different now, that's just how the cards fell sometimes.

Being blind meant she had to change the way she did everything. She learned to walk with a cane. Applied for a guide dog. She had to learn to read again. Tari had to figure out how she fit into the world when she couldn't see it.

It took time but eventually there came a time when navigating through the world became easier. It wasn't perfect. It never would be. She kept going anyway.

At 21 she convinced her family to let her go on a road trip with her friends. She figured she was fine. She had Kovu her dog with her. She just wanted to have a little fun and experience new places and foods in whatever way she could. That was the last time her family saw her or her friends.

After taking a few too many wrong turns and being unable to get back to the road they needed to be on due to a closure they ended up in Huntsville. At Night.

"Maybe there's a hotel or a b&b we can stay at." Tori wondered as the friend sat next to her described that they'd entered a small town.

"I don't know. Looks like a couple people outside that building. I'm gonna go ask." Came the voice from the drivers seat.

Tari leaned back in her seat, tired from the day and wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep. Then everyone started screaming. Kovu was barking and hands were shoving her down. Down into the footwell of her seat in the back. Blanket, coat, bags, and her whole ass dog were shoved on top of her before she could even ask what was going on.

The sound of metal tearing, class breaking, and the guttural screams of her friends stole any words she might have had. Tari lay there, frozen, too scared to move or make a sound. She lay there tense and completely unaware of what had happened to her friends only that something terrible has happened.

Hours later, she wasn't sure how long, she heard voices.

"All dead but the poor dog has been crying all night."

The door behind her head opened and she couldn't help but flinch causing whoever had opened the door to pause.

"Wait. Something moved."

Suddenly the luggage was ripped off of her and hands were pulling her from the car causing her the scream and fight.

Tari was pulled to safety but she would never feel safe again. She had been told what happened to her friends but it was hard to believe. If it wasn't for the fear that wracked the town and the noises she wouldn't believe it at all.

As ever Tari was adaptable. It took time but she learned the lay out of the town. She knew every building and which were empty. She settled awkwardly into her life talking a job at O'Connell's. She thought maybe Percy might have been wary of an outside walking in for the interview but she'd had retail experience, her dad use to fish and hike so she knew the trade, and she had ways to make the job accessible for her. She wanted to help. She wanted to at least contribute in some ways.

Five years on Tari lives a life of routine. Wake up. Work. Grab a drink from the bar. Go home before dusk. She didn't deviate out of fear but the longing for home remained. One day. One day the nightmare would end and she would get to go home

[raylaui]

She tried to still the terrible thoughts racing through her head, every what if and bad situation vying for her attention and concern. She stared blankly out the window, watching the way the first was painted in odd dappled light.

The kettle — which she’d forgotten she had put on — whistled harshly. She ran to pull it off the corner stove, pouring the steaming water into a smaller pre-prepared teapot. The smell of herbs and spices immediately filled the air, carried by the steam, cinnamon and snafflepuss-root and a blend of other things for a strong tea. Whatever sickness the soup hadn't cured, this would take care of.

She shook her head as she busied herself with dinner prep. Whatever Mikey's situation was, she'd have to figure it out piece by piece as the kid started to feel better. Whether Mikey was sold or stolen away to the Battle Nexus, she was still a two day hike away from the city. If Big Mama had goons looking for him, they'd be hard pressed to even find the needle in the haystack that was her house in the forest.

If they even knew what direction Mikey had run.

She stoked the fire, shoving an iron pot filled with potatoes and bacon into the embers with a set of heavy tongs. As she did so her mind wandered back to Mikey. She knew the kinds of shade Big Mama liked to deal in, and Mikey was bound to have some sort of enchantment placed on him. A seals of ownership, a memory blocker, a location tracker ... there could be anything

She'd have to check, carefully.

And speaking of Mikey, he'd been sleeping ever since the soup he ate in late morning. It was now a decent way into the afternoon. He should be awake by now, if the soup did as it was supposed to.

She gave the door to the side room a gentle knock. "Mikey, are you awake?"

She pushed the door, opening it a crack, and startled as a creature squeezed their way out the crack at the top, scampering across the ceiling with wide and curious eyes.

"Ope! You are awake!" she remarked, watching the kid with surprised amusement as Mikey leapt off the ceiling. He started sniffing around the edges of the room, eyes wide and curious. He paused only a moment to give her a wide, sharp toothed smile, and continued to explore.

She laughed. "And clearly feeling better too."

Mikey paused at the teapot of spiced tea, but quickly detoured toward the fire as his nose followed the smell of bacon. He made a sound that sounded like a trill and shook his head, stepping back away from the fireplace. He looked toward the window, then looked to her expectantly and asked, "Ssssearch? For brothers?"

Her heart fell.

"It's getting dark," she said, pointing outside. Mikey looked where she was pointing, dashing over to the window and tipping his head to get a better look. He pressed his nose against the glass and left a smudged imprint.

"We can look tomorrow," she continued, not saying a thing to Mikey about her worries for the moment. "And besides, you have to be hungry again. I just put dinner on."

Practically on cue Mikey's stomach growled. The kid looked sheepish, apologetic. But she quickly put an end to that, comforting him and telling him he had nothing to apologize for. Whatever his story was, one thing was for certain: he would not go hungry under her roof.

She got him a snack -- a bowl of blueberries -- and got him situated by the fire while they waited for dinner to cook. She grabbed one of the blankets he’d been wrapped up in the night before when she saw how Mikey was shivering, even being near the fire. Mikey soon started picking holes in the edge of his blanket out of boredom, which was unfortunate. It was one her nicer ones, but not one she couldn’t mend.

So a stack of paper and sticks of colored wax (that she usually used for drawing sigils) were found to keep him occupied. He didn't have any interest in reading books, mystified by them but unable to understand. But the language of art he seemed to be to be fluent in. It was the next best thing she could come up with to keep him occupied that wasn't ripping a blanket to shreds.

As Mikey colored, she figured this would be a good time to get scope out more information.

"So," she wondered, "What are your brothers like? Your father?"

Mikey grabbed a new piece of paper, holding up the wax sticks until he found the right color.

"Rrrrred -- Raph! Big and sss - strong." He drew a big red box, spiky in places. Mikey switched to a blue drawing stick, and purple. "Leo brave. Donnie is smart." Their stick figures looked almost the same size, different only by color and a few odd details.

“How old are they?”

Mikey squinted, pausing his coloring, but shrugged and moved on. “Dunno. But all bigger, older.”

She frowned. Was Mikey the youngest? Who in their right mind would have given their youngest to the Battle Nexus?! What sort of deal had Big Mama cut?

Mikey drew two other figures, one short and gray with a tail, another tall and pink.

She looked closer at the drawing. "Who is that?"

Mikey pointed. "Dad! And ... like Dad. I thhhhink."

She nodded, not getting much context either way. She slipped into silence, thinking much too hard about things.

Mikey was fixated on adding more detail to the portraits, humming and tapping the tip of his tail in time to a song. He shivered, and she realized that the only clothes on Mikey's back were a pair of shorts. Other than that he had nothing to his name, besides his name. She smacked herself in hindsight, immediately brainstorming how in Titan’s name she was now going to find clothes his size.

Her eyes landed on the blanket. It was orange, bright, like Mikey’s personality that had appeared to have survived the darkness of the Nexus.

"Hey Mikey," she asked, and Mikey looked up in curiosity, "want to see something cool?"

Mikey nodded and watched her get up. She moved over to a shelf and retrieved a sewing kit. She selected some thread, lining it up with a needle and a pair of scissors.

"Can you stand with your arms out?" she asked. She was a little disturbed how quickly Mikey obeyed, trying not to think about what that meant for him. She held up her hands, making a little box with her pointer fingers and thumbs as she made a guess on measurements.

Mikey stood stock still the whole time, wide eyed and trembling, almost scared. She lowered her hands, and Mikey didn't move.

"Hey, Mikey. It's okay," she said calmly, "You can move." She added, as an afterthought, "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you."

Mikey let out a puff of air and hunched back on the ground close to the fire. "Sssssafe?"

She nodded with a sad smile. "Yes, safe."

Mikey stared at the crackling fire, and she cleared her throat, brandishing a short stick of twisty, polished wood. "Okay, all ready. Mikey, want to see the show?"

Mikey looked back, fear overtaken by curiosity oncee again. She waved the stick, little blue sparks scattering in the air. They landed on the scissors, the thread, tickling Mikey's nose before floating behind him and settling on the blanket. Mikey giggled and sneezed, mesmerized as the items moved on their own. The scissors started to cut the blanket, the needle threading itself and getting to work making a set of clothes.

She just watched Mikey for a few minutes. He was completely enamored with the magic show. Like he'd never seen anything like it. The firelight exaggerated his scars, a reminder of reality. She frowned: how could anyone think it was okay to hurt a kid like this? Make them fight? All for some twisted charade?

Right, she had to make sure there weren't any leftover enchantments stuck to him, from the Nexus. Mikey deserved to be free of all traces of that place.

She grabbed a small jar from another shelf, and taking a tiny bit of the contents in her hand, blew the dust over Mikey.

The way it sparkled, Mikey thought it was just more of the magic sewing show. He watched the bits dance down on his skin, giving a sudden and solid shake and another sneeze after they settled. He was unaware that some of the glitter had stuck to a spot among the ridges of his shell, almost magnetized to a bit of mystic energy.

Well, that wouldn't do. She frowned, unable to detect just from squinting at it what the mystic spell there even was. It was purple. . . That awful spider loved the color purple. She tried not to let her blood boil for the third or fourth time that day and went to retrieve something to nullify the magic.

Mixing the salve took no time at all. It had a base of normal healing medical ointment, with some extra mystic elements added in. She even colored it yellow, like Mikey's spots. It would soak in and target the magic, nullifying or diluting whatever effect it had depending on the strength of the original spell.

But, she didn’t want to scare him, or touch him without permission. Or worry him carelessly.

“Mikey,” she asked, and the kid looked up at the sound of his name. “Do you have any cuts that hurt? From running through the forest in the rain?”

Mikey cocked his head, thinking, and showed her a spot on his elbow. A spot on his knee she thought was a scar but on closer inspection turned out to be much fresher, a small cut here, and old bruise there. He let her apply the ointment to his scrapes, watching it soak into his skin with a quick fizzly glow. He stole the bowl of ointment from her at one point, trying to use it like paint to draw on the paper. His claws tore holes in the paper, and he started drawing little stars on her floor instead, chittering happily as he watched each one glitter and soak into the wood.

She chuckled to herself: the ointment would wash away but those stars would stay stained in the wood forever. She swept a blob on ointment on her fingers, and, without prying, globbed it across the edge between two of his scutes, where the glitter from earlier had stuck to the mystic glow. The ointment flickered and settled into the cracks, and the purple glow there dulled just a little.

She hoped it was enough.

Soon dinner was ready. She pulled the iron pot out and dished the potatoes and bacon into bowls, grating Yakkow cheese overtop. Mikey eagerly ate all of his, ignoring the temperature and practically inhaling every bite. She ended up giving him all of her bacon pieces, and the rest of the block of cheese when he looked around for thirds. He reminded her of a cat for a moment, the way he almost growled while clutching the cheese in his teeth before eating it.

She warmed up the spiced tea form earlier, stirring in heaping scoops of brown molasses sugar. She sipped it while Mikey drank his in two gulps. Mikey continued to draw after dinner.

When he started drifting off, she woke him up just long enough to boil water for a quick bath. Between the yellow tinted salve/paint and the grease from dinner -- which he'd eaten with his hands -- the kid was all sticky. He still had dirt on the pads of his feet from his journey through the forest as well, however long he'd been there. She left him in the tub of warm water with a washcloth. Mikey seemed to understand, and she gave him some space.

She went off to wash his shorts and enchant them dry with a wave of a wand, and to check that the new pants and shirt she'd magicked from the old blanket were ready to wear.

Less than 10 minutes later, a sleepy, shivering Mikey bolted from the little bathroom area straight toward the fire, muttering through chittering teeth about the cold.

She threw a large towel over him, and Mikey curled into it like a blanket. But by the fire, the floor still covered in scraps of ripped paper and flowers drawn in salve, was no place to fall asleep. She ushered Mikey to the side room, leaving him there but a moment to don his new, clean clothes.

"Ah! H - help!" Mikey called, slightly muffled. She ran back to help. He'd managed everything else fine on his own, but the shirt had caught on his shell spines, and it was stuck over his head. She helped him pull it the rest of the way down.

Mikey flapped his hands, swallowed up in too long sleeves and a shirt that was half a size too big. He giggled tiredly, happy with how warm the clothes were, and yawned.

As she tucked him in on the cot under a weighted blanket, she heard him whisper, "Brothers ... to-tommmmmorrow?"

She pat the mound of blankets. "Yes, we can go look tomorrow."

Mikey churred and nuzzled into the blankets, asleep in moments.

She lingered there a moment, sad and worried, but got up slowly and shut the door with a quiet *click*.

She wandered back to the living room, regarding the mess, and started to clean. The sewing kit was put away, the leftover fabric scraps from the blanket tossed aside, the salve wiped from the floorboards and the wax sticks and paper collected in a neat stack.

She almost put the fire out and went to bed right then, but the image Mikey had drawn of his family had wound up on top of the stack. The care given each figure, special colors chosen for each; this was a family Mikey loved. A family Mikey missed.

A family Mikey still needed.

But, what if they were gone and Mikey didn't know? What if they were stuck in the Nexus? What if the fever from the illness, or whatever that purple magic was, had messed with his memories and he wasn't remembering clearly? If they really had given him up like some desperate souls were known to do?

What would she do if Big Mama's goons came knocking, somehow able to track Mikey down?

What if's wouldn't do. There was only one way to really check.

An idea formed. Tomorrow she would do as she promised: start the journey back to the Hidden City and help Mikey try to find his family, to whatever end that led. For now though, she found a bottle of ink made from citrus juice. She wrote an enchantment on the back of the paper, invisible to the naked eye, one that would judge the receiver and deem if they were true-hearted enough to follow the clue. She folded the paper in a pattern, flipping it over and around until it had been formed into a paper crane.

She stepped out into the night, looking up at the dark air. She inhaled, the crane in her hands. And, with a puff of air, she blew it away.

The crane faltered a moment, then fluttered, and it flew away into the night.

.... to be continued? 🕊️

It's a dark and stormy evening.

You've just settled down for the night, when you hear something scratching at your door. It's probably just the wind.

The scratching continues.

Maybe it's the neighbor's dog?

You open the door and see this weird-looking wet cat whimpering in the rain.

It looks lost...

What do you do?