#chew it off and scuttle away to hide forever

[constantvigilante]

“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

[mxvladdy]

Beelzebub- True Form

Three more boyos to go!

Next up: Leviathan

Beelzebub-  

The embodiment of starvation. The sharp contrast between his healthy and fit forms is truly baffling.

Mouths are scattered all over his gangly form. It is the only human thing about him as he is faceless otherwise. When hunting they release a mist or plague of locusts depending if his hunger is physical or emotional

His hunting form is juvenile and frail. Naturally small and unassuming, it is perfect to lure his victims close and ensnare them forever. He attracts souls with an overwhelming hunger. It’s a lure filled with false promises of substances and warm. When close he latches on like a parasite and gorges until there is nothing left but an empty husk.

Once full his form shifts into something- greater- his small body growing and stretching. It’s somewhere along the lines of a human growth spurts, or puberty, but is done in moments. It’s uncomfortable for him; the rapid growth takes a lot out of him.

When fed he is larger, but still skeletal in form. It’s a permanent reminder of his new immortal purpose. His skin is like stone, hard and grey but translucent. It is stretched tight around his frame, like an artist canvas over his jet black bones. The texture of it emphasizes all the odd twists and turns of his bone structure and whatever else lies underneath his flesh.

Each raspy breath he draws from the many mouths scattered around his body rattle his disjointed skeleton. His bones clinking together with every exhale to create a truly chilling symphony.

When crazed with hunger he loses himself. In his younger years as a cardinal sin he was responsible for wiping out land masses and civilizations to try and dull the ache before his brothers could contain him.

His gluttony isn't only for physical sources of substances. Slabs of meat only go so far. He will latch on like a leech, to anything that radiates his current emotional cravings. Love? Happiness? Fear? He wants to experience it all. Filling and cramming every little space with whatever sensations he craves. Till the deadened feeling in his chest is a little less.

There was a time where he was very close with his brother sin greed. During their younger years as demons they would terrorize the mortal realm, a deadly duo. Both unable or unwilling to control their new urges.

He hates this existence. He’s empty and it drives him mad. Was he like this in heaven? Honestly, Beel can’t remember anymore. He doesn’t think so. He had his brothers and sister to keep him in order and a different name. At the time he was called Temperance, right? He thinks. It’s a bit foggy.

But what hurts him the most is that his family structure is fractured now. There is a hole where Lilith used to be, and no amount of souls or food will ever fill that.

When he met you it helped a little. But he has to be weary.

He has better control of his abilities now then a couple centuries ago so you don’t have to worry too much. He likes having you around. It fills part of the void that he’s been struggling with for so long. Being with you makes him feel like dirt has finally hit the bottom of what he thought was a vacuous void inside.

Sometimes his natural abilities seep out when he is hungry or frustrated from another family row.  He gravitates towards you then, searching for that odd human comfort demons just don’t possess. He sips slowly on it; with your permission of course. Not the wisest idea- but an idea nonetheless. 

Mini Fic

Sleepy Sloth Boi- Hey. Can you check up on Beel? He had a bit of a argument with Asmo today Sleepy Sloth Boi- Apparently he ate a homemade face  goop? IDK, it’s stupid.   Sleepy Sloth Boi- I would, but I’m stuck in a remedial class with Lucifer Sleepy Sloth Boi- I don’t know when I’ll be out-                                                                                     Ok! Is he in your room?-   Sleepy Sloth Boi- No, at the gym. Asmo called him and chewed him out. Didn’t go well. Trainers called me. He busted up some equipment and might have eaten someone... They want him out.                                                                                  Oh... K I’ll head over now-

You frown down at your D.D.D and stuff it in your bag. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. You had heard stories of his terrible temper when hungry. Most of the time you have seen him just mope, huddled up in the kitchen eating his feelings. He was always open to talk though and you usually could convince him out of the kitchen so Lucifer didn’t have an aneurysm over a barren fridge.

The gym isn’t far from the house. A short tram ride and a walk down a couple of familiar streets. You have spent every Saturday morning with Beel there, spotting him. Not that you really could. With the amount of weights he was dead lifting, but he appreciated the company nonetheless. You ring up the front desk dashing across the street. It goes straight to voicemail. Crap it must be bad. You round the corner right before the gym and skid to a halt. Glass and metal litter the cobble street. The shards flicker off the lights of the street lamps drawing your eye to the sheer amount of damage around you. Some equipment even stuck out of the wall adjacent to you.

You make your way closer. “Human! Tis’ not the best time to be here. We are having a bit of an issue.” A terrified trainer scuttled towards you, mandible clicking in alarm. “You best turn back. We don’t need your body littering the streets too.” They wave a three fingered claw back up the street. On cue a weightlifting machine was launched through the remaining window exploding on impact with the road. A few more trainers run out after it, yelling and pushing at each other to get out of the way. A dark black mist bellows out after them.

Well shit.

“I’m actually here to try and help.” You smile down at the tiny demon trying to instill some false confidence in them. You think you could handle this. You didn’t want to call in the cavalry to get him. Knowing Beel, it would only trigger his guilty conscience. “If you could give me a moment.” Ignoring the little creature you creep forward, careful of the broken glass and praying that no more equipment got launched.

“Beel?” You call out peaking your head through the gaping hole on the side of the gym. "Hey, Belphie texted me. Wanna talk about it?” The inside of the gym was dark. Wires hung and sparked dangerously in front of you. A large burst pipe blocked most of your vision. “Beel?” You could hear his loud bone chilling breathing. He was close.

“Careful.” You jump swallowing the curse that threatened to slip out. Beelzebub emerged from the darkness at the back of the gym. His eyeless face locking onto you. “You are close to a line.” His many mouths move in unison. Some rumbling as he spoke, others just drawing in rasping wheezing breaths.

“Thanks.” You jump back onto the street. “You wanna come out? You look a bit cramped.”  He was comically too large for the allotted space. His goliath sized body packed into a little sardine can. He rattles for a bit considering. You cock your head to the side looking at the empty street. “Plenty of room out here.” You wave at your sole spectator and give them a small thumbs up. They blink in horror over your shoulder. Eyes locked on the beast emerging.

“I’m sorry.”  He drags himself  out. Thick steel like claws causing the little trainer hiding behind you to whimper. Beel’s fingers dig into the stone and mortar. Oph- this was going to cost a bit to fix.

“It’s ok big guy-happens to the best of us.” You say casually. Once he was outside he shivers in the cool afternoon air. His bones creak as you approach him. “May I touch you?” You approach hand raised. He never cared if you touched him in his human form. It centered him a lot of the time. He enjoyed the feel of your soft and giving flesh against his smooth hard skin. But this form was slightly more dangerous for you well being.

Beel shakes his head at your movement melding back into the dark hole. His mouths open wide to release a plume of black smoke. The trainer cries out, scurrying back further down the street. You hold your ground however. Chin up definitely, unafraid at what you knew was coming. The thick black vapor coats your skin. It latches on to you and seeps through your pores. You feel him in the back of your mind running through your head, searching for something. You breathe slowly, letting him shuffle through your psyche.

You feel a flush of warmth, a near giddiness that brings an uncontrollable smile to your face before it is gone. Snuffled out like a candle in the wind. A slow chilling tingling begins in all of  your extremities as he feeds off your emotions. He pulls at your center, eating away at your mental state. An odd empty ache blooms in your chest, you need to untangle yourself before he bled you dry.

He pulls back then, knowing when he has gone too far. The pallor of his skin is richer now. A darker grey than before. The waxing sheen gone and replaced with a deep purple hue underneath. His cobweb like veins thumping with life. “Thanks~” His rattles remerging onto the street. His oblong head nudges your shoulder, checking on you. You pat at it, careful of the mouths and razor sharp teeth.

“Of course; don’t mention it.” You turn on weak knees to the trainer. Looking at complete ease with the cardinal sin currently wrapping his many limbed and mouthed body around your comparatively tiny frame. “I guess this is not super common?” You ask, waving at the destruction. They shake their head.

“He-he ate Gordin.”

“Ah-ye. He does that. Sorry.” At a loss, they accept the sleek business card you thrust at them with your free hand. “Call Mr. Morningstar. He can work on the repair finances with the manager.”

“But Gordi-” You wince as the little demon’s mandibles tremble, voice getting frantic. Could demons shed tears? You were about to find out.

“Beel?” Cupping his large head you stare at him, eyes traveling over his face. His mouths snap shut, body turning smooth. The only movement from his was his hearts beating steady beneath his translucent skin. He stood still like a statue carved by a deranged artist. “Beel.” You say again more firmly. You step away from his hooked fingers. “Spit them out.”

He doesn’t move. His inner rattling becoming louder and more defensive.

You roll your eyes and look back exasperatedly with a shrug. The other demon stares speechless in terror. Or with the dawning realization of just how absurd this whole situation was. You turn back to Beel, fists balled on your hips. “If you don’t I guess I’m going to eat all these snacks I brought.” The death rattle stops. You could feel his full focus on you now aghast. “I’m serious. Mammon even went and bought those new limited release batwing chips too, extra spicy.”  

He hacks suddenly, back arching like a cat as a large seam opens on his skin where his stomach (stomachs?) region was. A bulky demon covered in purple viscous sludge tumbles to the ground with a wet squelch. Their skin was a sickly color and their eyes wide in terror.

“Gordi!” The other trainer pushes past you and grabs at the trembling demon, pulling him away from the hungry mouths.

“Thanks, Beelzebub.” You walk him quickly down the abandoned streets once the two others had fled. He lopes behind you, gaunt body swaying in the light breeze. Once you hit the more crowded streets he moves closer to your back. Other demons on the street give you a wide berth, eyeing and swatting at a few straying arms or fingers that attempt to grab them or their things. You move quickly, hoping to avoid having to scold him again for eating more demons.

“I’m sorry.” Beel croaks once more when you finally come to a stop at an empty park bench. He sits next to it expectantly. The grass and foliage around him weathering and turning to dust at his touch. His arms subconsciously start stuffing the dried grass and flowers into his many mouths.

“It’s ok.” You repeat yourself coming to rest on the park bench. Without preamble you dump the contents of your bag onto the ground. He croons in delight at the mound of snacks being pushed to him. “Eat up. Take a breather and then we can talk. If you want.” With that he dives in.

Beel munches in silence, mismatched limbs unwrapping-or not- the treats and popping them into his little mouths. You watch for a bit before getting preoccupied with a book you borrowed from Satan. You don’t know how much time passes before a boney finger pokes at your forearm. The same arm then hovers by your nose offering you a pudding cup.

“Ah, thank you!” You close your book and take the flan pudding. He had finished most of the food and had calmed considerably. Most of the mouths have disappeared, closing as they were sated. He scoots closer, the oppressive neediness of his sin dulled to an almost non existent thumping in your stomach. Easy enough to ignore, especially now with a sweet treat boosting your mood. “Feeling any better?”

Beel grunts, scratching at his knobby spine. You watch him for a moment. Reading his emotions in this form was hard. Thankfully, you knew the reason for the outburst this time. First time you stumbled upon him like this  had been an absolute circus. A terrifying, and destructive circus. He had been in full form that night. Locusts and clawed fingers moving in blurs, swiping at everything that came near. The younger brothers screaming at him over the sounds of breaking furniture and the buzz of insect wings. They dodged around his tantrum trying to calm him before Lucifer returned from a meeting.

“It’s a damned ice cream cup!” Satan roars, close to shifting himself. The tell tale heat of his body starting to radiate out and singe the carpet beneath his feet. Beel screeches back, flies and spittle spraying out over them. Asmo yelps and  drags you out of the room with him.

“Ugh! The moment he gets all gross and buggy I’m out.” He shudders, locking the door on the apocalypse happening on the other side. “Hopefully Mammon can slow Lucifer down so they can neaten up.”

“Is he going to be ok?” You look back watching the solid door shudder under the weight of a body being thrown.

Asmodues sucks his teeth dismissively, bright nails clicking away at his phone. You glance at it seeing that he had messaged Mammon to bring some take out too. “Oh ye, this happens from time to time. He just has to let off some steam. Then we can stuff him with food and he’ll be right as rain. You want anything hun’?” You shake your head stunned by his carefree attitude as the house shook around them.

Beel had come to apologize for his behavior later that night. His human form a little banged up, but no worse for wear. You went out for ice cream in hopes to cheer him up. Offering an ear too if he needed an outsider's perspective. You were also curious about his true nature and had a thousand and one questions to ask. He was apprehensive at first. It was clearly a sore subject for him. But over time he opened up, speaking freely about his struggles and fears of destroying his family's already shaky foundation with his gluttony.

“Asmo is furious with me.” He sighs, bringing you back to the present. He rests his head on your shoulder, careful with his weight.

“He’ll get over it.” You stroke his cool skin tapping at a closed mouth. It opens and licks your finger. It was as close to a kiss as this form could get to. “It’s not like he can’t make more.” Beel huffs, rubbing his head into the soft fabric of your sweater.

“I am nothing but a burden to them aren’t I.”

“Never.” You don’t hesitate. He grumbles unconvinced. “Hey,” You nudge him off your shoulder to look at him. “Remember last Saturday? How you helped Levi get his limited edition statue?”

“I just stood in a line.” He pouts. “And I only did that because I ate his Ruri-chan mochi’s.” Oh- you didn’t know that part.

“Well, I still think you’re a good brother.” You cover. “ Tell me, would any of the others do the same? You beat yourself up over every little mistake. How many times has Asmo or Mammon swiped one of your snacks?” He hums contemplatively, nails clacking on the concrete.

“But I always lash out when they do that.” You nod kicking your feet up to lounge on the bench, back resting against his. Grabbing at a set of arms you wrap them around your waist playing with the fingers that weren’t razor sharp.

“Yes, and? Asmo just did too. Runs in the family by the looks of it.” You chuckle. “ So why should you be the only one not allowed to get upset? But next time call before rampaging through the city, K?” You smile up at his monstrous visage. He smiles back hesitantly before coming closer.

Beelzebub nips you gently with his primary mouth. Large fangs careful not to break the skin. A cute little display of gratitude. He tastes your sincerity on you. Sweet and smooth on his tongue. “Thanks,” He rumbles. Cradling you close, he rises to his full height. “I think I’m ready to head back now.”

You snuggle into his unyielding body checking your wrist watch. “Yeah big guy? Guess it is almost dinner time.”

He picks up the pace.  

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 11

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 3000~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Lapis is a flight risk, and Steven begins to doubt himself.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well.

-

Chapter 10: Beta, Part 2

When your life has become a continually evolving string of heart pounding adventures linked together by the odd few days off, you quickly learn to fixate on the fine details no matter what the circumstance, as you never know when one of those details could be used to save everyone’s butts. Sure, it’s not like this outlook did him any favors back in the forge, but his point still stands: a Steven who isn’t constantly paying close attention to his surroundings is a Steven who can’t properly help his friends. If he’s not innately aware of everything around him, he can’t raise his shield in time. He won’t be able to pull the right tool out of his cheeseburger backpack. He can’t give a perfectly worded response to a soul in need. This is a non-negotiable fact, and the reality of what happened with Bismuth merely cements it ever more solid. Which is why— deep beyond the wandering disorientation of his current surface thoughts— he can’t help but wonder why he’s unable to pay attention to the details that actually matter right now. The individual threads of all his friends’ panic, confusion, and attempted explanation overlap and intertwine, weaving an audible tapestry of emotions. Their precise words, however, may as well have died in the wind. Mentally, he is not here. Instead, the fragmented remains of his focus choose to zero in on the wood grain pattern spread across every beam and board of the barn’s rustic infrastructure. Wholly enamored, his eyes trace a path between the dark ridges as if traversing a maze. Tree rings are super pretty, huh. He absolutely doesn’t give them the love and admiration they deserve. But as is evident from the slight musty smell and the dainty mushrooms beginning to sprout by the floor in one of the corners, some of the boards are beginning to rot. His mouth falls slightly ajar, and he stares at these fruiting bodies with such stubborn commitment that for a moment he forgets anything else was ever a priority. Have Peridot and Lapis noticed? Do they even know what wood rot is? Upon that thought, he frowns pensively, balling his fist at his chin. Hmm. Given their relative inexperience with Earth stuff, the most likely answer to that is no. He’ll have to call Dad about fixing the boards before this grows into an even bigger problem. It’d be awful if their home became unsafe to live in because he didn’t do his part to help. But then again... “What do you mean, none of you know why she did it? That just makes it worse!” “Lapis! Lapis, wait! They said she’s—“ “Let go of me!” she says, struggling in Peridot’s grasp, her water wings flaring outwards at the ready. “Don’t you get it? I can’t live here on Earth anymore, it’s not safe! None of us are safe!” Is he already too late?

Lapis’s impassioned cries continue to echo at the edge of his awareness— something paranoid about shapeshifted disguises, about the Diamonds— but his feet are still anchored to the boards below, his body all but stagnant in shock of the current maelstrom of emotions. And yet, it’s strange... while a sum of him dimly recognizes he’s still attached to reality, it’s almost as if he’s watching all of this from above himself, stuck as a passive observer to his failure. Helpless. ( C-cracked, I’m- I’m cracked, I’m split I, I can’t... feel... need... I-I need to —) Slimy tendrils of guilt slither around his heart. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the mood. He wasn’t careful. He wasn’t convincing. He was scared that everyone would devolve into petty argument, and look what happened! He ran his mouth when he should’ve stayed silent. He caused his own nightmare. His family’s splintering apart once more, and it’s all his fault. “But it’s not like that,” Ruby hastily interjects, “I’m sure it’s not like that!” “Really? You’re seriously jumping to defend Rose, after all the lies she fed us?” Amethyst spits back. “N- no! I’m just saying, why would—“ The constant chirping chorus emanating from the birds of the nearby woods steals his fragmented focus next, and he can’t help the sense of relief that bubbles up from within as he willfully sinks into the distraction. The birds, their songs are beautiful. He wonders what they’re saying to each other... if they’re arguing about territory, warning friends about predators, or simply having a friendly conversation. Maybe his dad might be able to distinguish the difference. When he was still living in the van, they used to lay on that ratty old mattress side-by-side late at night, listening to the crashing tides and the distant squalls of birds picking at trashed food on the boardwalk. Because one of his relatives was big into birding when they were kids, Dad was always able to stake a reasonable guess on the species class based on call alone. And honestly, that’s a pretty amazing power to have. As he related earlier, it’s important to fixate on the fine details. Attention to detail can save lives. It can soften hearts. It can make or break friendships. But as he’s grown to fear, it can’t fix everything. He can’t fix everything. The blue Gem’s features twist with simmering fury. “Peridot, I told you to let me go!” she hollers, and in a single jerk rips herself away from the shorter Gem’s desperate embrace. Her wings swing like a whip behind her as her body follows the motion through. It’s enough of a shock to the system that his sense of awareness comes rushing back. He ducks, the water swishing right over his head. Something behind him snaps and clatters to the ground. Ruby presses a bejeweled hand to her face, muttering something he can’t distinguish. “‘Kay, I’m out,” Amethyst cuts in through the chaos, throwing her hands up. “Y’all are whack, this whole convo is whack, and I can’t deal with any of this right now.” Not wasting a single second, she tucks herself into a ball and super-speeds it out of the barn. Mouth caught in a tiny, helpless ‘o,’ Steven whisks around, only barely catching a glimpse of her retreat before he spots the damage. It’s one of Lapis’s morps, that wooden hanger displaying all the baseball paraphernalia. Now it lies rejected on the floorboards, one of the strings broken and the bat rolling towards Peridot’s feet. He watches, feeling lambasted with regret for his role in sparking this argument, as the green Gem’s face cripples much like the structural integrity of that meep-morp. She blinks away the threat of tears and quickly averts her gaze from the group, bending to pick up the bat before clutching it to her chest in a protective manner. The water Gem huffs and storms out of the barn as well, fists unyielding at her side. Heart pounding amidst all the uncertainty of this fraught situation, Steven scuttles after her. Come on, think! he snaps at himself, chewing pensively at his lip. There has to be a way he can still save this, a way he can stop his family from splintering apart yet again... “Lapis,” Ruby begins, delicately edging towards her. “No, stop,” she holds up a hand. Her expression— as nebulous and hard to ascertain as always— is caught at some weird nexus between blinding anger, terror, and... is that guilt he spies? “Stop talking! I’m not asking any of you to change my mind. I’m leaving, and all of you should be too!” Turning on her heels, she squares her stance and flares her wings to their full width in preparation for her flight. Just before those watery wings can beat downwards, propelling her lithe form away from his world forever, he leaps forward. Dares to grab her wrist. She sharply inhales, briefly tugging against him before she notices who the hand belongs to and falls slack in his hold. Static assails his mind as he assesses every angle of this jerk-moment decision. What on earth is he doing? (He can practically feel Ruby and Peridot’s anxious, curious gaze drilling into him from behind, and they’re not even in his line of sight. No matter what happens, this is all on him. No one else.) “I-I, um,” he stammers at first, desperately scouring his brain for the right words to say. “Please, I’m... You don’t have to be scared like this. I may have her gem, but I’m not her!” Lapis gives a shaky sigh. Her wings droop right along with her shoulders, the persistent burden of thousands of years of captivity evident within her posture. Waiting in the shadow of her silence, his focus falls on the gemstone adoring her back, that smooth, glossy teardrop. Golly, somehow it doesn’t feel that long ago at all that her gem was cracked, and— scared, angered, and confused— she lashed out in much a similar way. “I’ve always known you’re not your mom, Steven,” she says lowly, still not meeting his gaze. “This- this isn’t about that!” “Then... what is it about?” She growls in frustration, clenching her fists as she yanks her wrist away from his grip. “Have none of you been listening to me?” “Have you been listening to us?” Peridot mutters flatly from behind him.

Lapis shoots her a sour look, but continues, pacing across the grass as she speaks. “If one diamond was able to fool an entire empire into thinking she was a quartz for thousands of years,” she says, gesticulating to emphasize her words, “then- then how do we know the other Diamonds aren’t already here doing the same, already watching from a distance, just waiting to shatter us for everything we’ve done??” The sharpened words echo across the fields, familiar bird calls cut short as even nature falls silent in their sway. Steven stands motionless, her paranoia-tinted prophecy sinking in through his flesh despite all efforts otherwise, sowing roots in the darkest corners of his mind that he dare not peep into. When no one responds, the blue Gem exhales, lowering her face to the ground. “I’ve let my guard down too much here, I’ve let myself grow soft. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He swears he hears a note of disappointment laced between the layers of her uneven breath, or perhaps it’s heartbreak. He can’t tell. Despite his usual aptitude at interpreting others’ feelings, Lapis is consistently hard to read. And it’s this very thought, this subtle dissonance from the expected in her intentions, that encourages him to reach out one last time. Her wings flare out again. Blood and hard light thrum at an almost dizzying pace through his parallel veins. It’s now or never.

“Lapis, wait!” he calls, palm open wide. “Please, please don’t leave! Not now, not like this.” Their world crystallizes into ice as he vies to meet her fears head on. There’s no sunlight, no bird calls, no wind, no Ruby and Peridot behind him. No more untimely distractions. Only Lapis, desperate and hurting amid the heart of the storm she created. She holds her wings taut, ready for flight, hovering at the edge of her metaphoric tower. Breath trembling, she glances behind. The sheer complexity of emotion Steven discovers in those sea blue irises almost makes his eyes water. Cautiously, he steps forward.

“Maybe you’re right,” he begins, fidgeting with his shirt’s bottom hemline. His fingers briefly brush against the edge of his gem as he does so, and he jerks them away in blind rebellion of this reminder. “Maybe this planet never will be completely safe. Maybe nothing ever goes to plan. But the Crystal Gems have survived this long because they stood together instead of breaking apart. A-and... I know you don’t think of yourself as a Crystal Gem,” he cuts in quickly with a placating gesture, noticing the question forming on her lips, “but please-! With everything else that’s happening, I really, really still want you in my life.”

Tightly, she wrings her fingers around her opposite arm, face dipping dolefully towards the soft soil squishing up between her bare toes. “Steven, I...” “I can’t promise you’ll be safe on Earth, but I can promise you won’t have to be alone,” he says, voice thick. “Please.” Stay, he mouths, his body nearly shaking in fear of how she’ll respond, of all the inner thoughts flooding through her mind he’ll never wholly decipher. Their gaze locks, souls laid bare to each other as they engage in a rapid-fire dialogue no other creature of this world will ever be privy to.

If you can't stay for yourself, he cries silently, can’t you stay for me?

The seconds are punctuated only by the reverberant tremor of his heartbeat, as he stands upon a precipice in wait of her pivotal, defining answer.

Eventually, her expression softens. She folds her wings, standing down.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll wait and see what happens... for now. But if I ever find out any of the Diamonds are inbound, or worse? I’m out of here.”

A stiff gust of wind rushes past, threading through her hair and causing her dress to undulate like mid-ocean waves. Shadow obscures her face.

“I’m not getting pulled into another war.” Giving no further explanation, she turns tail and storms past the tent, past the rickety fence bordering her and Peridot’s barn, and into the overgrown wildflower field beyond. Once she’s reached a far enough distance, she extends her wings and begins to fly, hastily disappearing beyond the tree-line. Everyone stares at the thick swath of forest she escaped to with dumbfounded shock at first, no one quite sure how to proceed after that bomb of a conversation stopper. Ruby mutters something under her breath, clear frustration coloring her voice. Behind him, he hears Peridot reverently set the bat down on the barn’s floor.

“I’m... gonna go find her, and help her calm down,” she says. Clutching her hands close to her chest, she passes him and Ruby and begins her long, flightless trek into the Beach City woods. Steven himself migrates towards the grassy patch beyond the pool, and falls to his knees amongst the dandelions growing there. Most of them are still flowering, their lithe golden yellow petals fanning out from the head. A few on a separate plant are white and puffy, though, ready to disperse seeds. He’s drawn to one in particular, a seedhead that’s already missing half of its progeny. Biologically, he knows it’s a good thing that those seeds have flown away and might get a chance to germinate elsewhere, but regardless the sight of this lonely, barren dandelion strikes a dour note. Was he wrong, asking Lapis to stay? Could she eventually heal and become happier, leaving the burden of this place? He swallows hard, gripping the balding seedhead between two fingers and decisively plucking it off the stem. A few more seeds blow off with the disturbance, their feathery parachutes falling into the arms of the wind.

Lapis...

What if his selfishness is only holding her back?

And then there’s Amethyst to worry about. There’s no point overextending the sad dandelion metaphor to fit her situation, because hers is something entirely unique. She’s still in his life, just emotionally closed-off. Bitter. Avoidant. Unfairly antagonistic to others. By inviting her out here he hoped she might take the opportunity to kick back and blow off some steam, but now, after watching her abruptly leave the group a few minutes ago, he’s worried this trip only succeeded in further stressing her out.

A gem adorned hand falls upon his shoulder then, pulling him to the present. With a startled yelp, he tosses the dandelion into the grass as he flinches away. His heart drums uncontrollably, so much so that his cheeks burn with embarrassment when it dawns on him who this hand belongs to. He sucks in a shaky breath to calm himself down before allowing himself to sink into her comfort, glancing behind to meet Ruby’s tired, kind eyes. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asks. His tongue suddenly feeling as limp and dry as all the fallen leaves beginning to sprinkle the ground, he nods his head yes. In an overt betrayal of his response, his big, stupid, puffy eyes begin to water. Hurriedly, he wipes the burgeoning tears away with the butt of his palm. Frustration bubbles at his core. Since when was he such a crybaby? He’s cried far too much lately, and he’s sick of it. He rubs harder as the tears begin to fall anyways, his bottom lip quivering as he vies with every last ounce of control he still has to not look entirely pathetic. The skin around his eyes, sensitive and raw, begins to sting from the friction. Wordlessly, Ruby wraps her hands around his wrists and leads them away from his face. His chest tightens. He fails to choke back a sob as she pulls him into her embrace, his own arms trapped between them. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, and it’s then that he realizes with a shock of surprise that she’s crying too. Her quiet tears dampen his collar; her fingers clutch at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong for us all the time,” she says softly. “I wanna be here for you too, okay? It’s just like you said... no matter what, we stand together.” “But I- I have to go find her,” he chokes out, the words sticking in his throat in the most pathetic manner. “Who, Lapis? Peridot‘s prolly fine handling her on her own.” “No, I mean Amethyst. I saw her run off, an, and she’s been so upset today, and...” “Steven,” she says, leaning away and gently lifting his chin so he can’t avoid her compassionate gaze. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and honestly? A lot of it’s been our fault. You should take a moment to rest, okay?” Grinning, she ruffles his hair. “Enjoy the breeze! Climb a tree! Kick back for once. I’ll check on Amethyst this time.”

He hoarsely whispers an ‘okay’ as he sits back on his heels in the sun and watches her run off, allowing the wind to whip through his curls. Sighing, he splays his fingers just above the grass, allowing their tips to gently tickle his palm as they brush back and forth, and futilely tries to convince himself he’s cultivated enough good into the world today to deserve this break.

[wish-upon-a-sapphic-star]

Viva La Vida

~~~~~

Sirius rested his chin on his hand and gazed out the window from their room. The wind was picking up, tossing snow this way and that. It was all a white blur, spinning faster and faster.

He sighed. Winter holidays were so boring. The castle was practically empty. There were only ten students in Gryffindor tower, including him and Peter and Remus. And all the two of them wanted to do was sit and read.

James was with his family, of course. The Potters had offered for Sirius to go with James, but he had declined. Remus was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays this year, and Sirius wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. If only he had known how much time Remus would spend reading textbooks in an attempt to get a head start on the next term. 

He understood it, of course. With all the days Remus missed because of the moon, it was perfectly reasonable to want to begin early. That didn’t make it any less boring, though. Even though they had all the free time in the world, they still only really spent the nights together.

This was ridiculous. It was the holidays—Remus shouldn’t be studying. Sirius wanted to spend some time with his damn boyfriend.

He walked over to Remus’ bed and flung the curtains to the side. Remus could take a break for an hour or two. There was no reason he had to be cooped up with his books alone, when they had no due dates weighing on them or any work to make up, and Sirius was bored out of his mind because there was nothing to do… 

Remus wasn’t there.

Sirius took a step back. Where was he, then?

“Hey, where’s Remus?” 

Peter glanced up from his book. “I think he said something about walking the grounds. He wanted some fresh air.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “It’s practically a blizzard out there.”

“It wasn’t when Remus left. I thought he’d be back by now.” He shrugged and went back to his book.

Shit. What if Remus had gotten caught in the storm? What if he was hurt somehow?

He started pacing, wringing his hands. Remus was probably on his way to the dormitories right now. He was probably fine. Yeah. He was fine. Of course he would be fine. This was Remus, the smartest person around.

A gust of wind rushed past their room with enough force to rattle the window.

What if Remus was stuck out there?

He couldn’t risk it. Sirius grabbed a coat and a pair of mittens and rushed down the stairs, throwing on the extra layers as he went. Chances were he would meet Remus along the way as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower and everything would be okay. He just had to be sure.

Everything passed in a blur. He navigated the moving staircases purely on instinct, too focused on getting to Remus to actually focus on getting to Remus. He felt shaky, a sick feeling in his gut, like if he didn’t get there fast enough he would lose Remus forever, lost because he had hesitated for just a moment before deciding to make sure Remus was alright.

There was a chance he was already too late. That Remus was too far away. Sirius should have come sooner. The more he thought about it, the more sick he felt, dread roiling in his stomach, bubbling into the rest of his body until he was sweating, palms clammy and heart pounding.

Paintings whispered to each other as he sprinted passed. He caught fragments of their conversations—“Is he alright?” “Slow down, boy!” “Isn’t there a storm?”—but he paid them no heed. He just had to get to Remus.

Before he knew it, he reached the doors to the courtyard. Remus still wasn’t here. He skimmed the corridor, but no one was in sight.

His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. The thumps of his heartbeat echoed through his body until every part of him was sickeningly pulsing, from his forehead to his toes. Remus was really out there, stuck in that storm.

Sirius started pushing the door open. 

There was a tug on his hood, yanking him away from the door.

“What are you doing?” Remus demanded.

Sirius sighed in relief, all the tension rushing out of him. “Thank fuck you’re okay!”

“Were—were you going to go look for me?”

“Yes!” He ripped off his mittens and threw them at Remus. “Don’t scare me like that!”

He chewed his lower lip and folded his arms. It wasn’t okay for Remus to just do that and scare him half to death.

“I’m fine,” Remus assured him. “I got inside before it got too bad.”

“I didn’t know that! You could have been hurt! You could have died!”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Sirius huffed. “You better be.”

“Come here.” He pulled Sirius into a hug, which Sirius begrudgingly accepted.

He pulled away a little bit so he could see Remus. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I was really worried.”

“It’s okay.” Remus rested his forehead against his. “I’m right here.”

Sirius nodded, relaxing.

Then Remus’ lips were on his own, a light kiss at first, turning into something deeper. Sirius melted into it, wrapping his arms around Remus’ neck and letting Remus twine his hands through his hair, losing himself in Remus’ taste.

It took a moment before he remembered where they were and forced himself back to reality. Though he was reluctant to break the kiss, Sirius pushed a hand between them. “Wait. We’re in the middle of the hall.”

“It’s the holidays.” Remus grinned. “Who’s going to see us?”

Sirius smiled, relishing their freedom. It was amazing to not have to hide for once. “Then by all means.”

Sirius was tugged towards Remus and this time he let himself get lost.

~~~~~

A gust of wind rushed past, sending a chill up his spine. Sirius wrapped his arms around himself for some kind of warmth.

“Remus,” he whispered into the dark. 

The howling wind was the only response.

His heart cracked open, just like it had so many times before, and as it would time and time again, for the rest of his time here, for the rest of his life. His heart would crack, and in his dreams, the only escape he had, it would mend. But his dreams were getting darker by the day. His heart hadn’t mended in a long, long time.

Remus…

He cherished the memory. He picked it up and played with it, turning it over and over, tossing it into the air and smiling when he caught it again. It felt strange to smile.

The air around him got colder. His breath left him.

No… No, please… Don’t take this one too… 

A dementor appeared in front of his cell. Sirius scuttled back, away from the bars, though he knew it would do no good. His back hit the wall.

He screamed. He was still screaming, even when the world faded to black.

I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Now in the morning I sleep alone

Sweep the streets that I used to own

[courtorderedcake]

Riptide 1/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that's not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It's something.

@captxinswans did the beautiful artwork accompanying this story. I can't thank her enough!

@ultraluckycatnd you don't know how much of a pleasure it was to work with you. Your kindness, insight, talent for editing, and parsing out my brief scribbled notes has been my anchor in many dark times where I thought I was done for. You are a cheerleader, and the best beta I could have ever asked for.

@distant-rose your pirate doc was completely invaluable, even if I said to hell with 67% of it for story purposes. Forgive me one day.

@shireness-says and @wingedlioness for reading the original snippets and believing that it could be more. @artistic-writer, @hollyethecurious, @doodlelolly0910, and @resident-of-storybrooke for getting me through a really rough emotional patch. Thanks y’all. It’s not better, but it ain’t worse. 

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter I : Driftwood Like a plank of driftwood Tossed on the watery main, Another plank encountered, Meets, touches, parts again; So tossed, and drifting ever, On life's unresting sea, Men meet, and greet, and sever, Parting eternally. -Edwin Arnold

Emma cried quietly into her brother’s coat as he carried her at a fast pace down the hill. She could see the flames from the forest rising, flames that had already claimed their mother and father. The air was thick, the taste of the smoke and the acrid burning making her feel nauseous. The pine wood had burnt easily; the farm they had been lovingly raised on now nothing more than ash.

James spoke quietly but harshly. “Tell her to shut up, or we’ll leave her.”

Emma whimpered into David’s neck, trying to suck up her tears.

“James, you’re just scaring her,” he said as he stroked Emma’s hair. “It’s alright. We’re going to be okay.” Emma nodded under his coat. She snuggled into his neck and stayed quiet. “See? No need to frighten her.”

James grunted. “We need to find a place to stay for the night. A tavern is too risky, too many slavers. We’ll have to try our luck on the street tonight.”

Emma felt them start moving again, her brothers’ feet quiet on the cobbled streets. David set her down on a pile of hay laid out near a closed off alley. He gathered some rags they’d taken, mostly coats, and laid her small frame down in the pile.

“Sleep well, Emma. We’ll watch over you. We’re going to be just fine,” he whispered. David had always been like a second father to her, someone she trusted more than anything. He protected her from James’s constant tormenting, and kept things from their mother like when she snuck off to play in the frog pond, or when she beat a boy twice her size bloody for tormenting a barn cat with a stick. Emma was a terror at five summers old, and David was her grounding force.

She tried to fall asleep on the hard ground, but James was talking in hushed tones to David. Keeping still, she angled her head to hear the conversation better.

“We should leave her. We can get jobs, but she’s just a mouth to feed and a crybaby that can’t do hard labor. She acts like a spoiled princess; she’ll slow us down and we’ll get caught.” Emma felt her chest constrict. She’d been the brunt of James’s rage before, but now his tone was cold and calculated. Emma wondered, not for the first time, how he could possibly be her flesh and blood.

“I’m not leaving our sister,” David growled. “We have to protect her. We’re all she has now.”

“We could sell her to the man Father sold eggs too. The slaver.” Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She tried to stay quiet and not audibly cry. “We could get away from here and get jobs on a ship with him or as blacksmith apprentices, maybe even as a page for a knight-”

“We are not selling our flesh and blood. What is wrong with you?” David sounded appalled. “You would give her over to a life of possible torture just to fill your purse with coin? Would Mother be proud of that? Or Father?”

“Mother and Father are dead, burnt to a crisp by a war that is now in our realm. They’re ash in the dirt; they don’t give a fuck about you, our stupid little bitch of a sister, or -” A crack rang out.

Emma opened one eye to see James on the ground holding a bloody nose as David stood above him, fists balled, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t ever speak of them like that,” he said lowly. “They gave us everything; they wanted us to have a better life, to grow into-”

“Grow into WHAT?” James hissed, wiping blood from his face. He chuckled darkly. “A lord? A king? You know as well as I do we would rot with them there on that farm forever in pig shit,” he spat. “We would waste away at the farm while Princess over there was shook in front of a lord until he gave her a title so she’d spread her legs. Then we’d all go live with Lord Rich and Lady Fuck Trophy Emma until they screwed enough to make some heir. I want more, and I’m not going to sit here while you baby our meal ticket.”

David grunted. “Then get moving. We don’t need you here to try and -” Emma couldn’t hear what he said, his voice lowering in pitch for a moment, spitting out something that made James eyes gleam with malice. David’s voice rose again. “Don’t think I don’t know why Mother asked me to keep an eye on her. I know why you were stuck on the farm more often than not.”

James laughed again darkly. “Fuck you. Remember this when you’re rotting somewhere. You chose her over your twin.” Emma heard his footfalls retreating.

“And I’d do it again.” David sat down, continuing his watch as Emma finally drifted to sleep.

Over the next few days, David and Emma tried to keep away from slavers and do some begging to keep their bellies full. They managed to find a decent piece of stale bread in the rubbish on the first day, and David charmed a tavern wench for some water and a hot pie to split on the second night. They didn’t talk about James.

On the third day, James came back, humbled. He had found a small safe spot to sleep down by the docks and begged David for forgiveness. Emma felt something pull in her stomach and pulled on David’s hand, shaking her head no. Something felt wrong. It pulled at the pit of her stomach like a rope pulling water from a well, something deep in her gut responding to his words.

“Let her stay here then, if she likes,” James snorted. “I’m just asking forgiveness.”

David looked at her pleadingly.

They went.

Every step closer, Emma felt her stomach tightening into knots. The docks were covered in fog and she felt eyes peering out that she couldn’t see. Rats scuttled across wood planks making strange scratching noises, and the sea waves made wet sounds against the creaking ships. She pulled tighter on David’s coat, hiding almost completely behind his form.

“James, are we almost there? I-” She felt David tense through the coat.

“Is this them?” a low, gravelly voice said. It sounded like someone who had chewed too much devil weed, their throat permanently changed from the chew.

“Yes. Ten summers, and five summers,” James said.

“Emma, Emma run!” David yelled, pushing her back. She tried to run through the fog, but huge hands lifted her easily as she kicked. She heard David’s knees hit the dock hard.

“Ah, now brother,” James dangled a purse of coins in front of his face as a huge man covered in tattoos held him by his hair. “You and Emma have me started on my journey into knighthood. Two hundred pieces for you two, although you were worth more than her. If only she was older, then I could have bought my own house!”

He kicked David roughly in the side, laughing as David fell over holding his abdomen.

“I told you you’d regret it.” He cast a glance at Emma. “Pity you didn’t listen.” He leveled one more hard kick to David’s ribs and spat. “Goodbye.”

Emma cried in the darkness as the men carried David and her onto a boat, throwing them into an awful smelling cell filled with other small bodies. Emma cried harder, crawling over to David, checking if he was ok. She sobbed into him when he tried to hug her.

“Shhhh!” said a voice next to her. She looked over and saw a boy with tangled black hair looking down at his feet. Even in the dim light, when he looked up, his eyes were unmistakable, a brilliant bright blue. “If you’re too loud, they’ll whip you.”

Emma tried to bite back another sob, but it ripped out before she could help it. Eyes around her began to stare, looking in fear toward the door where a shadow began to appear. Emma tried to stop, panicked and hiccuping.

She heard a low voice from a different cell hiss out. “Killian, don’t you dare-”

The man had descended the stairs and had a large whip in his hands, one with several heads coming out of the handle. Emma was going to throw up and be sick; she couldn’t stop the hiccups.

“Who’s it now, makin’ all ‘tat ruckus?” said the man, opening the cell door. “Ah, it be the pretty ‘lil missus cryin’. Well now, let’s givya somethin’ to wail about, shall we missy?” He raised his hand with the savage looking whip and Emma tensed, her body going rigid, hearing its crack but feeling nothing.

The boy had rushed in front, taking the lashes, and the man laughed. He pushed the boy aside, who was now bleeding from his back and shoulders. Grabbing her by her hair, he took a small pocket knife and ran it under her ear. She could smell his rancid breath, filled with onions and something bitter.

“Lucky yer ‘lil friend thar saved yer pretty skin. One day when yer sold fer whorin’, ye’ll not want ‘dem scars, missy.” He pressed the knife under her ear and she whimpered when she felt blood run down her neck. It bit into her skin and she shrieked, feeling the sharp burn as it peeled away skin. “Now, ma dear, best ‘member who gave ye yer first scar. Bradshaw the slaver.” He dropped her, and she crawled back to David, who grabbed her close.

Bradshaw laughed, his huge gut shaking, and closed the door. He stumbled back up the stairs and Emma looked at the boy. Hands were reaching through the cell, an older boy with the same blue eyes examining the bleeding lashes. Ripping off part of her well worn and burned skirt into a strip, she crawled over to them, pressing it into the older boy’s hand.

Touching gently on the younger boy’s uninjured shoulder, she hugged him carefully, much to his shock.

”Thank you. I’m sorry,” she whispered, and scampered back to David.

She fell asleep for what felt like only seconds, when she felt hands cutting her hair. David was shearing her hair short. When he finished, she heard him slide the knife away from them.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled sleepily.

“You’re now Eric. And will only answer to that, do you understand?” David said through gritted teeth. Emma nodded, afraid. He handed her a pair of dirty men’s breeches. “Put these on. One of the boys died last night. We’re going to say it was you.” Emma’s eyes widened in shock. She looked quickly over to where the blue eyed boy was. He was sleeping, but through the cell bars, another pair of eyes the same color acknowledged her with a nod. She put the pants on without hesitation.

David nodded at the older boy in the other cell, and he nodded back. They spread her skirts over the frail body, and waited in silence for their fates, David’s hands gripping Emma’s tightly.

“No matter what happens now, until I say so, we’re brothers. David and Eric. They’ll sell us together.” Emma looked up at him and nodded again. “Good. We’ll be okay Eric. We’ll be alright.”

She looked over to the blue eyed boy, who was awake now, as who she assumed to be his brother whispered in his ear. She wondered if he was saying the same things David had. He held her ripped skirt like a talisman, as if it was the only thing that could protect him. Closing her eyes and wishing with everything she had, she hoped it would.

It felt like they had waited years in the bottom of the ship, heat and the stench of rot, shit, and piss all around them. She didn’t see Bradshaw again until he took the bodies of the lost out of the cells a few days after giving Emma her scar. He gave the skirted body a kick, muttering to himself about “girlies never making it.” Emma kept her head down. The blue eyed boy coughed slightly, and when she looked up he kicked something towards her. Picking it up, she recognized it as a knotted piece of leather. Emma smiled at him as he shyly looked down at the floor. She placed it in her pocket as she fell asleep.

They docked and were pulled out roughly, tied together by feet and hands in strange, looping knots. The auction was led by two people: the auctioneer, a loud monstrous man called Hyde, and his timid companion that collected monies, Jekyll. She and David watched as in the sun, the dark haired boy and his brother were sold to a private vessel as hands. She caught his blue eyes once more, blinking a goodbye she hoped he could see as Jekyll let the coins jangle into his purse with a lopsided grin.

A stern gray haired woman appraised them, and checked David’s teeth before haggling down the price from Jekyll. They were roped together on a leash for eighty gold pieces as the gray haired woman led them to a long ship and a new future.

Granny ran a tight kitchen galley, and Emma was the perfect size to stay compactly out of her way while washing pots and pans or peeling potatoes. David, at ten, was quick footed and small enough to climb the rigging into the crow’s nest of the ship and call down. They fell into their roles quietly and the captain of The Lion’s Heart let them know everyday that their place was beneath free men.

The Lion’s Heart was a merchant longship, stocked with silks, furs, and jewels. They stayed close to the coast furthest from trouble in the calmer currents, cutting a quick path through the water to drop off goods. The crew were hearty men, cold and stern, who did not take kindly to frivolity. While other crews could be heard at port singing raucous and bawdy songs from the taverns, the men of The Lion’s Heart found sharpening their weapons and wrestling each other a far better use of their time.

Emma and David stayed together as much as they could, accepting as much knowledge as they were given. The captain, Richard Kingsley, took David under his wing after a few months at sea. He found that David could read, keep ledgers, and was keen to learn to navigate. Emma learned about dice, climbing the rigging, and how to throw knives, as well as several of Granny’s secret recipes. Years passed, and although they were still slaves, they found their bearings like a compass held in one’s palm.

When Emma turned twelve, they gave her a birthday cake, and she felt like she almost had a family again. The crew began teaching them songs of the countries from the far West, as well as sword fighting. They taught David the traditional Northern style of heavy blades, and the Western style of quick, forceful attacks. Emma learned about fluidity, using your opponent's strength against themselves, death blows with a staff, and how to move so quickly you could shave a man’s beard without him knowing you used a scythe to do it. The latter was taught by a quiet South Eastern man with an accent, who always offered her sugar dates and pistachios. He showed her how to fold paper in the shape of stars, how to braid rope, twine and leather while telling her stories of the creatures of his desert homeland. The knotted leather piece she cherished was turned into a bracelet, braided beautifully in intricate patterns, blue beads and shells through it.

Before her fifteenth birthday, Kingsley became gravely ill. David took over much of the paperwork and the first mate, Nottingham, tried to keep the crew together. He hired more sailors to pick up the slack and for once, Emma saw Granny bristle with apprehension. Emma felt it too. Nottingham spoke in a way that reminded her of her other brother, James. It pulled at her when he announced the new, “honorable” men, and again when he said he hoped the captain got better. He had the same look James would get when he stole her meager portion of bread, leaving her with crusts.

She talked to David and he dismissed her worries, caught up in ledger balances and accounting for stock.

They left port laden with rich velvets, linens, furs, and silks, heading off towards the kingdoms that were flecked with snow. There was no way to stay on the coastline here; they’d have to cross open waters. Some of the crew seemed actively anxious as if they could feel something in the air.

Kingsley died at sea as they were crossing an icy strait the crew actually had to break apart with heavy picks. Nottingham didn’t shed a tear for his captain as he slipped under the cold, dark waters. Instead, he picked a new first mate, one with beady eyes that seemed to always be darting to something shiny - Walsh. Emma disliked him, but not nearly as much as Granny, who believed he was stealing fruit from her pantry.

The years became harder for Emma, as Eric became harder to make convincing. She bound her breasts tight as they grew, and when she got her first sign of the woman’s curse blooming red in her breeches, she used ripped burlap from potato sacks to line her sensitive parts. David was getting nervous for her as well. He’d grown into a tall teenager, muscled and strong, inheriting Kingsley’s charm at haggling with merchants. Kingsley had taught David to, in his words, “Sell a Merman pearls at full coin”.

When he’d asked if their debt was paid, Nottingham was immune to his silver tongue. Money was drying up, the newer crew and Nottingham having spent much of it on ale and taverns. Stocked goods were not making it to their buyers; rolls of velvet or silk missing, or worse, jewels and priceless valuables. David had offered to help and was whipped for insolence against the captain. Long time crew members left to seek better fortunes on the breeze with more honorable men. David and Emma were bound, however, by a contract Nottingham pulled out, signed by Mr. Kingsley before his death. When a ship got a new owner, the indebted aboard owed the new captain what was due at the time they were first bought.

They were slaves all over again.

The crew of late was mostly new folk; greasy haired, worm faced men that smelt of drink and piss. The ship was falling into disrepair, and Nottingham was having trouble picking up work. David had secured a deal to deliver ale to the next town over. A small paying job, but a job nonetheless.

Emma kept herself in the galley with Granny, trying her best to hide herself, though her womanhood was now almost entirely impossible to hide. Granny figured it out shortly after her eighteenth birthday. She had gotten Emma a heavy coat made of stiff material and breeches to match, along with a strange cup device that allowed her to bleed without worry during her curse.

“You were always too pretty to be a boy. Should have just been out with it ages ago, so Kingsley and me could have had at it. I’d have sent you to work at the tavern my granddaughter works at.” She sighed, looking down at the soup she was stirring as Emma peeled potatoes. “But now we have Nottingham and that creepy, twitchy, monkey man.” She threw pepper in the pot with force. “Can’t reason with those idiots.” In fact, the entire crew were stupid and lecherous, which was a dangerous combination.

Emma became more concerned about Granny’s warnings when David could no longer reason with the captain and his first. Walsh in particular was unconvinced that the tavern wouldn’t notice a cask or two missing from delivery. David’s protests earned him a sound lashing tied to the mast, where he cooked under the sun for hours before being undone to work until past sundown. When he collapsed in his hammock that night, sweat soaked and still bleeding, Emma was enraged. The rest of the crew joined the captain on deck to drink the ale they had no intention now of delivering.

She tended to David’s wounds, carefully cleaning them with water and a small bit of rum Granny had let her have. He groaned in misery, eyes rolling back into his head. She heard the clatter of feet above her as someone played an out-of-tune accordion.

“Stupid fools,” she muttered, ripping more cloth to wrap the worst of the rips across his back. Their singing and drinking the cargo disgusted her.

There was no warning that anything was amiss until that first crash. It felt like it was right on top of her as the harpoon split the wood easily. She screamed, but it wasn’t heard over the yells of the men on deck, drunken and scared.

“PIRATES! PIRATES OFF -” Another crash had her head spinning. She pulled David up, placing him against the landing of the stairs where a cannonball or stray harpoon would not hit. She ran on deck as fast as she could, sword gripped in hand.

The ship attacking had a black sail up, and they were drawing in fast as to her shock, they threw roped hooks into the rigging of The Lion’s Heart. The pirates flew over her head like gulls, calling out cries of war. The men on deck scattered like roaches, a few even jumping overboard like cowardly fish bellies. She took a stance, preparing to take arms to guard her brother.

A pirate landed near her with a thump. He was tall, and wore a dusty olive green long coat and a olive green tricorne hat that burnt orange curls spilled from. His face was obscured with an emerald green bandana that menacing green eyes peered out of. He moved quickly, drawing a large cutlass and lunged towards Emma.

Emma was quicker, and her training paid off. She was able to parry and dodge several blows with her own long rapier, catching her opponent off guard. She heard men dying around her and footsteps start to approach; she knew this wouldn’t be a fair fight. She moved quickly again and the cutlass caught her rapier, but not quite in time to stop it from loosing the bandana. It fell to the floor slowly, exposing red lips that smiled back at her.

“Good show, but you’re sorely outnumbered now, boy.” The revealed woman before her smiled.

Emma only gritted her teeth as she heard someone approach her from behind. Throwing an elbow back with all her might, she heard a shriek of fury as the approaching person clutched their nose.

The woman in green sighed. “Don’t do that again.” She whistled and pointed to a small form with dark brown hair, squatting on some barrels and watching with her head cocked. “Snow, show the boy what will happen if he steps closer to me.”

The one the green woman called Snow moved like water, in an instant fluidly pulling out a bow and arrow from seemingly nowhere. The arrow flew through the air with a whistle, landing in the space between Emma and the captain. The captain stood and faced her attacker.

“Now, be a good boy, and throw that sword aside - Your captain’s dead, only two men still live of your crew, and you might make it home to a sweet lass like Miss Snow here if you stand down, my little monkey.”

Emma heard the person behind her get up, and felt a knife at her neck. The point pressed hard, pricking her skin. She dropped the sword, as a voice hissed in her ear, “Ye broke m’ fuckin’ nose. I should kill ye now, ye idjit boy. Slit yer throat like a pig if -”

”Meri.” The woman in green shook long red hair from her hat, smiling placidly. “That is not how we treat those who almost best the Captain.” She felt the knife’s point weaken its pressure as the girl behind her sighed. It was definitely a girl behind her; she could feel her breasts pushed into her back, and the wind pulled tightly wound red curls in front of her own gaze.

Snow approached quietly and Emma startled. Meri laughed. “This boy’s a chicken; scared of lovely ladies.”

“Hush, Meri. He’s terrified. Captain Zelena, permission to search below?” Snow acknowledged the woman in green. In fact, the entire crew were all women.

“Go ahead. I want to question the crew of… What’s this ruddy ship’s name anyway?”

Granny came up from the galley with Snow in tow. “That would be The Lion’s Heart. I assume you’d be Captain Zelena?” She smoothed her skirts as Snow balked at her for having no fear of the sword pointed at her.

“That I’d be.” The woman in green curtsied, laughing. “And you are?”

“I’m the galley cook, they call me Granny. If you’re going to kill me and the boy, and the boy’s brother, do it fast. I tell you this, though. They’re hard workers, that lot, and so am I. We deserve a fair chance at another ship.”

“Oh, and what about the other crew members?” She pointed to an older man they’d called Rot Mouth for the stench of his breath and rudeness to everyone, and to Walsh.

Granny shrugged. “Those two aren’t worth the piss you’d get out of them.”

“And what are you carrying. Anything worthwhile?”

“Ha.” Granny spat out of the side of her mouth. “I wish. Casks of ale for a tavern, and these idiots drank half without even a deposit.”

Zelena seemed to think on it a moment, a slight frown on her face, while Meri rifled through Emma’s pockets, patting her down.

“Snow, go check on this other boy. See why he’s not up here.” Zelena made a dismissive gesture, looking around at the casks of ale.

“Yes, Captain.” Snow nodded, heading below deck once more.

“OI! CAPTAIN!” Meri exclaimed, with a dark laugh. “This ‘uns a chit! She’s a girl!” Emma’s eyes widened with fear and she looked at Granny.

Zelena, however was delighted. “Well then. This is promising. A chit like that who can hold her own against me without training for weeks.” She shot Meri a look, and Emma felt the girl tense.

Walking over to Walsh and Rot Mouth, Zelena pulled them both up and examined them. Walsh trembled in fear, while Rot Mouth swayed slightly, still drunk. Zelena smiled her placid smile, and pulled their gags down.

“Hello, gentleman.”

Walsh looked as if he was about to pass out, and Rot Mouth glared, still swaying.

“We could use a few cleaning hands on my ship, what say you? Are you up to swab some decks in exchange for keeping your necks attached to your heads?”

For his response, Rot Mouth spat a wad of yellow spit. It had barely touched the ground as Zelena’s face contorted, and her sword was up in the air for a split second before it settled, slicing his neck. Rot Mouth clutched at his throat, dropping to his knees. His body finally reacted after seconds that felt like minutes, squirting blood all over the deck.

Zelena wiped blood from her face, flicking it off absentmindedly. She turned to Walsh, the placid smile returning and eyes glittering.

“How about you, my little monkey?”

“Yes, Gods, yes. I’ll do anything,” he trembled. “I pledge loyalty to you, Captain.”

“Good. We’ll discuss this further on my ship. Let’s see who else we can drag up here.” She glanced at Snow who was dragging a barely conscious David on deck. Emma blanched, yanking away from Meri, and helped to lay him down. Meri made no moves to stop her as Zelena came over.

“What happened to him?” she asked, nudging him with an olive colored boot. He groaned, blinking slightly, before looking at Snow.

“Are you an angel?” he said slowly, looking up at her with glazed eyes. Snow visibly flinched.

“He got flogged. He disrespected the old captain by suggesting the crew shouldn’t drink the haul,” Emma said dryly.

“Is he a hard worker like your Granny says?” Zelena asked, squatting to Emma’s level.

“Yes.”

“Will you and Granny join us if we don’t take him?” Zelena asked lowly, picking up his arm and letting it drop back onto the hardwood. Emma shook her head as a firm no. “What if we do take him? You’ll stay if he dies?”

“Yes.” Emma nodded. She looked back to David’s face, and Snow wiped sweat off his brow with her sleeve. “He’ll survive though. That’s what we do.”

Zelena’s ship, The Emerald Envy of Oz was beautiful. She was sleek, as fast as some naval runners, but her speed was balanced by a lack of firepower. At only twenty odd guns, they focused on bloody battles that left her crew always in need of new recruits.

Zelena cried out to her assembled hands, “HELL HATH NO FURY!”, listening to their cries of victory as they sped away from the burning hulk of the Lion’s Heart. David was taken away from Emma by Snow and a sandy brown haired man, disappearing below the deck. Emma felt the anxious pull in her chest watching him go.  

Zelena gave little thought to having few men aboard, Emma found with at first, a large bit of admiration. The crew was made up of almost entirely women to her shock. Since the beginning of the Ogre Wars, many felt it was safer to be on the seas than on land. What safe lands were left were constantly warring, leaving only minor claims for the thrones remaining. Allegiances born of gold and steel were far more lucrative in war time than those of blood and marriage.

Zelena wasn’t too proud to nod at the ex-royalty she’d collected. There was a brunette with huge doe eyes, reading in the crow’s nest. Once a princess in a long lost realm, they referred to her as Book & Belle, but mostly the latter. Snow, who at one point may have been heiress to the ruins of Misthaven, but now took refuge on this ship while her Step Mother tried to find safety on land. Rory, with Phillip and Fa, who had been a pedigreed princess before fleeing with her betrothed and his bodyguard during a brutal ogre siege razing their kingdom. Meri, who was from the lands to the far Northeast, where tribal law decreed she must vacate her throne to one of her three brothers. And now added to their motley crew were Granny, David and Walsh. Emma didn’t mention the contract, hoping it would be resigned to the past now that they were among free folk.

The few menfolk had a small bunk area in the bottom of the ship that used to be a holding cell, Meri had explained while showing Emma around. She seemed to hold no grudge for her nose, and had cracked it back into place as soon as they had made their way down the stairs below deck, relishing in the disgusted look Emma gave her. If anything, she seemed proud that Emma had practically knocked her nose into the backside of her skull.

“Aye, I love a tough lass, that I do.” She winked with total disregard at Emma’s confusion. Nodding her head, they walked through a doorway into the normal hammocked sleeping room for crews.

“Now ‘ere, let’s get that all off of ye.” She gestured at the menswear Emma had become accustomed to. Emma glanced at Meri’s choice of dress: some mixture of trousers and a cut off long shirt. Emma shook her head.

“I’ll wait until we get to shore. That doesn’t look comfortable.”

Meri shrugged. “Suit yerself. You can untie yerself at least, if it’s wot ya be wontin’.” She gestured at Emma’s chest, and left without saying anything more.

Emma let her breasts hang unrestrained, her shirt cut to allow air under her vest, and for the first time ever, joined the crew on the upper deck as her true self.

The work on Zelena’s ship was thankless and without end, even as part of the crew. Zelena, she found, was prone to moods of madness, where someone (usually male) would draw her ire and receive the full brunt of her rage. When it was a female member of the crew, it was usually and almost certainly due to Zelena perceiving a slight or one of her port side dandies favoring someone else heavy of the purse. She could come up with inventive and truly cruel tortures, and no one wanted to be the next singled out.

Emma had acclimated to being dressed as a woman for the most part. At port, she’d taken a small stipend and several of the female crew to help her pick out some clothes. There was, however, a vast difference in style preferences. Rory, Belle, and Zelena found form with flair to be their preferred choice. They wore cut skirts, draped cloaks, capes, dark brocade corsets, bejeweled pieces of fashion, and swirling silks in exotic patterns that could hide weapons or confuse their quarry. Snow and Fa liked function. They chose dark colors and sturdy fabrics, with light armored padding that allowed them to move with quick precision. Meri was a joyful and eclectic mix of both. Bright blue damask hid light armor, exotic pants that belled at the bottom, a corset made of soft cream satin, an unbuttoned men’s frilled shirt, and an armored coverlet were among her prized possessions. Emma joined her in her style, choosing a mixture of breeches, skirts, a loose hook and eye corset, and a silken blouse.

Her outfit drew attention she was not used to, which she discovered quickly. The women hadn’t warned her, so used to it themselves that it seemed second nature when a lout tried to cup their ass. Emma’s shock brought them peals of laughter and a long conversation on the best places to cut a man that would leave him in pain for the rest of his life. When Emma experienced this first hand in a port, she found that the fat older man was not prepared to lose the tool he claimed he could use so well.

David healed slowly as the months passed, but he was soon up on the deck cleaning with Emma and showing his aptitude for maintenance on the ship’s armament. Walsh began his campaign of finding how far his head could snugly fit up their new captain’s derriere, and found that even a woman captain had plenty of space he could weasel into. The crew was stunned to find him announced as her first mate, and Meri demoted after a particularly hard week of punishment on her. In their hammocks later, Meri had tried to hide her low rumbles of tears and anger, but come morning, had found extra sweets rationed to her by Granny.

Granny in turn had come to take an extreme dislike to Zelena, who had called her food ‘barely palatable’. She’d been struggling baking the pastries and fine cakes Zelena demanded on a whim after making ports, her hands beginning to tremble from age as much as she tried to hide it. Emma and David had both begged Zelena to let at least one of them help her in the galley, but she’d refused. Emma had taken to waking up earlier to cut, dice, knead, and peel so Granny needn’t do as much with her hands, while Granny sought out the newest recipe Zelena coveted from any bakery willing to offer it.

Emma was sneaking back into the bunks one morning when a hand caught her wrist and pulled her into the shadows of the small hallway leading above. A hand covered her mouth as she tried to protest. Hot breath huffed in her ear.

”Well, look at this.” Walsh whispered. She could feel her body stiffen. “Someone is up early. They say the early bird gets the worm, and the second mouse gets the cheese.” She felt his hand slip under her shirt, and tried to pull away from him. He held her tighter, hooking a leg around her ankle. “They don’t say what happens to the sneaking slave girl that looks like a sweet.” His tongue ran along her neck, and she shuddered, feeling like her skin was trying to crawl away from her bones.

“Here’s what I propose. You get to keep sneaking around on your little jaunts to help your dear sweet Gramma, and I get to take what I want in my quarters, after the ship’s asleep. No one needs to know a thing, and you and I both get what we want.” He pressed into her, and she could feel the imprint of him like so many men before who had tried to push their luck. She struggled again, and he hissed a whisper into her ear. “Do what I say, or I tell Zelena. Think on it. I’d hate to see what might happen to a feeble old woman who serves Zelena no use, but shares the spoils.” He released her, and she stumbled away up to the brightness of the deck.

She only made it a minute before vomiting over the side.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTES: Sorry about that huge delay - that was totally unintentional. I've been trying to make a game, which I know, is a completely ridiculous thing for me to do considering I've never tried to do that before. Also, I'm terrible at it as it turns out, haha. BUT! If I ever finish it, you'll be the first to know - I'll also probably post it to AO3 if it's at all possible.

Hopefully, the length of this chapter (and the sheer amount of events set off in it) help to make up for it! We're doing a time-hop forward. Part Two is much longer, and Part Three will be about the same length as Two. Have fun!

                                                  ~ PART TWO ~

                                                  CHAPTER SIX

"Come on, Illianora, spill! What did they say, exactly?"

The round-faced girl smiled back at her friends, swinging her legs back and forth just below her chair in the corner of the inn they so often met up in for lunch. Any fool could tell that this was a unique opportunity for her to be the center of attention, and she was about to milk it for all she was worth. Not that anyone other than the barkeep and the one or two of the customers were going to pay them the slightest bit of attention — and the former only because he distrusted anyone who had not come to the age of adulthood.

"Oh, come on, you don't want to hear this boring old Emerald City gossip."

"We do, we do!"

"Okay," she giggled, relenting far too easily. Scooting a bit closer, she said, "Well. First, they were making this big proclamation about appointing Fiyero to be Captain of the Guard!"

There were a chorus of gasps. One of the other girls whispered, "Not Prince Fiyero!"

"Yes! I mean, I really wanted to go congratulate him… tell him personally how proud we all were of him. A Vinkus man being given such a high position in the Wizard's army! Put in charge of the search for the Witches themselves! But I couldn't get close, of course."

"You wanted to tell him how much you wanted to be his wife," another girl accused. When Illianora only shrugged, they all laughed. "Knew it! You're shameless!"

"Oh, stop that; you know I'm only interested in Liir. Even if Fiyero is a handsome devil." Then her eyes sparkled. "But I haven't told you the half of it! The press secretary — Marble something — she announced that after almost two years of searching all of Oz, they're finally tracking down where the other two Wicked Witches are hiding!"

More gasps, these of a different nature. Darker, more fearful; still just as excited and eager for hearsay as the ones over the guard captain, but laced with the appropriate apprehension.

"Well?" one of the girls needled, given that Illianora had taken overlong continuing. "Where?"

"Here."

"Here? You mean the Vinkus?" When she only shrugged again, she pressed, "Not in Kiamo Ko?!" They turned to each other with whispers of alarm. This was a lot more personal, more pronounced, than the quick jolt of adrenaline they felt about the vague existence of the witches. This was local.

"Well, maybe not in Kiamo Ko specifically, but in the Vinkus, at least. We all know they've patrolled our streets enough to have flushed out any two witches."

"Have they? I hear they can shed their skins as easily as a snake!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sarima," another girl snapped. "Go on, Nora, tell us what else the Marble woman said — further north? South? Or out West?"

"Might be West, because they kept calling them 'The Wicked Witches of the West'... though that could just mean in the Vinkus," she added in a thoughtful mutter.

Sarima pushed a hand into the side of her face. "I was a lot happier dreaming about that Prince Fiyero than worrying about witches holding us for ransom." The others were quick to agree.

"That was about it," Illianora reluctantly admitted. "Just to stay alert, try to tell any Animals that still speak that she and the Wizard are offering a reward for any information on where the witches went."

"Weally?"

"Weally- I mean, really. Oh, and that they're keeping a close eye on the Witch of the East; you know, the one in Munchkinland?"

They all muttered lazily about that for a moment. By now, the strict policies and threats of that particular "witch" were well-known everywhere, even if they weren't nearly as sensational as hearing about fires and explosions and freed Animals courtesy of the other two. With no more exciting news about the East to pick apart, they just muttered for a minute or so about her before letting the subject return to the more immediate threat.

"I've heard that one is green and the other is blue," a girl whispered. "And that when they get mad, they switch!"

"That's ridiculous, Nastoya. How can a person switch colours?"

"How can a person be green or blue in the first place?" Sarima cut in, shaking her head.

After a moment, Illianora asserted herself again, hoping to recapture the spotlight from her friends. "Well, they say one of them was from Gillikin; the emerald mines are near there. Maybe there was an accident, and now she's green forever! Wouldn't that be awful?"

As they continued to chatter on, a robed figure passed behind them and left a handful of coins on the counter before making good her discreet exit. For the time being, she had heard quite enough to be going on with.

                                                  ~ o ~

"...And that's the scuttlebutt."

A green chin nodded up and down as two spindly fingers stroked either side, glittering emerald eyes sharpa as they always had been. "Intriguing. Not that I know what 'scuttlebutt' means."

"It means the butt of a scuttle, of course! Come on, Elphie, aren't you frightened?"

"Why should I be?" Gesturing around at the sparkling insides of the cave, she announced, "Saint Aelphaba is safely tucked into this hidey-hole behind Wicca Falls, where none may enter but her closest companion, Glinda the Ghastly. What's to worry about? They're no closer to finding us than they were last year. I doubt they could find their hats if they were on their own pointed heads."

Glinda the Ghastly scowled as Elphaba chuckled, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't find that particularly humourous, you know. Just because I'm resigned to living like a common criminal on the lamb doesn't mean I want to joke about it."

"Who's joking? Maybe I really am Saint Aelphaba." At Glinda's eyeroll, she gave one of her own. "Fine, you aren't in a laughing mood."

"I'm not. But… I do have some good news to go with the bad." Reaching behind her, she produced a large, round disc of light-tan bread, lips pulling into a small smile. "See what I picked up?"

"Ooh, honey loaf!" Elphaba breathed, smiling in spite of herself. "It's been awhile since we splurged. By Oz, to eat something besides fish for once!" Her fingers twitched toward it, then pulled away. "But… you bought it, I should let you break the bread."

"Here, then," she giggled as she split it in two easily and passed half of it over. "Eat up. No sense waiting another hour until supper."

As Elphaba drew it closer, she glanced upward. "You always give me the bigger half."

"Well…" Squirming, she shrugged and feigned indifference. "You're taller than me, aren't you? More to feed. I'm just being practical."

"Sure," Elphaba chuckled, breaking off a small piece to nibble. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then she said, once her hunger was not so gnawing, "I'm worried about the Animals."

"This again," Glinda sighed.

"No, listen; it's been a week since I heard from their camp in the Great Gillikin Forest. The Crows were supposed to come days ago. What can be keeping them?"

For a minute or two, Glinda simply watched her companion wring her hands. It confounded her, but yet again, as she had the past several times this subject turned in such a direction, she found herself very faintly jealous. Why should she? It was because the Animals demanded Elphaba's attention, of course, but the part that confounded her was that she cared so deeply whether or not her friend had concerns outside the two of them. Perhaps it could be merely attributed to them spending far too much time together; they were becoming codependent. It was to be expected when you were living in a cave with only one other person, but sometimes, she worried that it was going to ruin her for keeping company with others. Would she remember all of her social graces, her manners, once this crisis was over?

It had to come to an end. It had to; the Wizard and Morrible couldn't possibly keep up this witch hunt forevermore! Someday, they would find a way to bargain for the Animals to be left alone, and to return the Grimmerie to its rightful owners. She had no idea how such a plan would come together, especially after two years of feeling defeated, but she was determined to make it so. Until then, she supposed she would have to put up with playing second chair to Elphaba's zealous crusade now and then.

Her friend must have sensed her displeasure. After swallowing her current bite, she said in the soft voice Glinda had grown so accustomed to over the past years, "I missed you the past few days."

"You did not. You're just sorry I didn't bring back a Pig for companionship," she griped.

"Glindie…"

Chewing on her lip for a moment, she decided not to be too mean; it wasn't worth it. "Did you really?"

"I always do. If only I didn't stick out like a green thumb, I could go with you when you head into the cities."

"Yeah, I know. Any, um… progress on degreenifying yourself?"

"Nope," she sighed, glancing over at the Grimmerie's vaunted place on a very basic table on one cave wall, next to a candelabra of wax stumps. "You know, I did manage to turn my knee orange yesterday."

"Oh, can I see?!" When Elphaba only snorted, she wilted and mumbled, "Don't joke! I don't like it when you joke about magic, it seems… I don't know."

Throwing up both hands, Elphaba began to rise, only just catching the last bit of her honey loaf before it toppled to the grotty cave floor. "No joking about magic, or Animals, or Saint Aelphaba. What can we joke about?!"

"We can joke about how ugly I'm getting, without my makeup artists and hairdressers." When Elphaba only frowned deeply at her from the "kitchen" area of their hovel, Glinda pursed her lips. "You know I stopped caring about that after the first few months, but you still won't laugh. I always thought you'd be thrilled I gave up on that."

"But you gave up on them because they're out of reach for you, not because of disinterest." Having stashed the rest of her bread for the time being, she returned to help Glinda up. "You know I would give you back those things if I had a spell for that."

"Don't turn my knees orange," she warned, and Elphaba grinned in spite of herself. "But… you're learning to do much more important things than giving me supernatural lipstick."

Glancing around the cave, as if someone would jump out and interrupt them, Elphaba leaned in and pressed her lips against Glinda's ear. The latter shivered at the feeling of air caressing her lobe and neck, at the closeness of the vibrations of sound.

"I perfected fire."

"Perfected?" she breathed, licking her suddenly-dry lips. Elphaba knew that she was still a bit skittish about being so close as that, and she often used it to tease. This time, she could tell it was unintentional, so she did not bop her on the nose.

"Yes, perfected. Here…" Raising a hand, she began to whisper under her breath; seemed she didn't even need to read the words from the Grimmerie's pages anymore. In the very center of her palm, a plume of pale green flame began to flicker and dance.

"O-oh! It's a tiny fire! You've really done it, you- and it's not even raging out of control like the last time!"

A smile ghosted into the corners of Elphaba's mouth, and she fell silent, allowing the flame to continue its presence there. After a few more seconds, she closed the hand and it vanished. "Yes. It… well, I still feel guilty about our hut down in Yips, so I promised myself I would only practice somewhere safe. The connecting caves go deep enough that it's easy to find somewhere without any wood or brush. Look how much it's paid off!"

"It's truly wonderful, and wonderfully true; your control is getting as good as your arcane arsenal!" With a little titter, she went to join her in working on getting their supper finished. Honey loaf was well and good, but it was not enough sustenance. "And I've barely mastered the flight spell; everything else, I have to read it out of the book or I'll mess it up. Even then, I still mess it up sometimes!"

"Glinda, that's alright." Perching her free hand on her forearm, she went on, "You're the one running around Oz, trying to acquire things for us, listening in on gossip. I'm stuck here all day, hiding and waiting to talk to Crows, so this is the way I can be useful. Well, other than fishing." As she stoked the fire higher underneath the several fish spitted on a stick, she added, "And anyway, you're a lot further along than that and you know it."

"Maybe," she muttered, embarrassed by the attention toward her inferior spellwork.

"Definitely. Just keep at it and you'll be floating around over Oz in no time."

Soon after, they set to plating and eating the fish. Though they were literal cave-dwellers, Glinda had still insisted they could bother to pick up kitchenware and eat as civilised as they could manage. Elphaba cared a bit less for manners, but she still did her best to maintain some decorum for her companion's sake. After all, small gestures such as those went a long way toward keeping the peace.

It wasn't until they were washing up that Elphaba announced, "I'm thinking about visiting my sister."

"Oh?" Glinda asked as they stood in the mouth of the cave, hands outstretched to let the waterfall blast away the food remnants. They sometimes lost dishes that way due to unexpectedly powerful bursts of water, but they knew now to tighten their grip against the torrent. "You… want to see Nessa? Why?"

"It's all this talk of her being 'wicked' like us. The details are so vague, I don't… what are they talking about? She never acted the slightest bit wicked in all the years I've known her, which are all the years she's had. I know it's not really the focus of what we're trying to get done, and it might not help us clear our names, either. But… she's my sister, isn't she? For better or for worse."

At that, Glinda had to nod glumly. "I might be an only child, but I imagine having a sibling must be the bestest. A very special bond, especially! So… so why should I stand in your way if you want to see her?"

"Because it's foolish," Elphaba sighed, turning away with the cleansed dishes to dry them over the table. Glinda hurried to follow. "It's a needless risk of exposure. I'd have to be careful flying almost literally from one end of Oz to the other, and for what? To have Nessarose snap at me that I've 'disgraced the family', probably."

"Oh, come on, Elphie. She wouldn't be that cruel!"

"Wouldn't she? You've met my father. She's his child."

"So are you, and I don't see you being that cruel." When Elphaba glanced at her, she shrugged. "Not that often. We have our quarrels, but we always work them out, and you're very rarely cruel without cause."

"But I am cruel, then. Right?" Glinda didn't answer right away, and Elphaba sighed. "I'm sorry, I… sometimes, I get so passionate about saving the Animals from being muted and massacred…"

"I know," she soothed with a hand on Elphaba's back. "Of course, I understand. And… even though I hate it when you shout at me, you've never struck me or… or insulted me unless I've already insulted you somehow. So I think you're quite an admirable person, overall."

At that, Elphaba snorted and patted Glinda's arm. "Such lavish praise. If you don't want me to go and see her, I won't, but… oh, I just feel like I must. Something in my gut tells me it's important."

A sigh escaped Glinda's lips as she pondered. Not that there was much to ponder at all. "Your gut has served us well a few times before now, so I feel like it would be sheer ridiculosity to ignore it now. Go to your sister; I'll hold down the fort here."

"No, no; I must wait for the Crows. But once they have arrived… shall we go together? I want her to know that we're on her side if she's being wrongly accused." In an undertone, she added, "Besides… if she isn't wrongly accused, I might need your help escaping her clutches."

"Her 'clutches'!" Glinda giggled. But when Elphaba didn't laugh, her own petered out quickly. "Oh. You really think… little Nessie? The one in the chair?"

"Just because she's in a wheelchair doesn't mean she poses no threat. You didn't grow up with her; you don't know how manipulative she can be if it suits her purposes. Maybe she isn't a villain, but she's no perfect princess, either."

Nodding, Glinda whispered, "I'm sorry. You're right, I don't know a twigging thing about her."

"No, I'm sorry," Elphie sighed as she put away the dried dishes and utensils. "No point in spreading doom and gloom about something that hasn't happened yet."

"Then it's settled. Once we hear from our fine feathered friends, we find your family for a fisit."

Elphaba had been nodding along until the very end. "You mean 'visit', don't y- oh, nevermind." But Glinda was so pleased with herself that Elphaba couldn't frown for long.

                                                  ~ o ~

Déjà vu settled upon Glinda when she spied Colwen Grounds for the second time in her life. However, it was not quite the same as the last occasion. Munchkinlander guards paced up and down the street, spears in hand. There was a distinct lack of civilian presence throughout all of Nest Hardings, now that she thought to look. How could things have changed so drastically in a couple of short years?

"By Oz," Elphaba breathed. Glinda tightened her arms around her waist to comfort the poor, shocked woman. "My home looks like a prison…"

"Or a fortress," she muttered. "Elphie, where would your sister be?"

"Upstairs, the third window from the right in the back. It's… oh, I wish I could have perfected that invisibility spell! All the rocks just turned lighter and lighter shades of grey, they never vanished entirely!"

Sighing, Glinda patted her side and whispered, "We'll just have to be quick. Act when the guards aren't looking. We can do that; I'm even wearing this hideous black cloak and it's the dead of night, it ought to be simple enough!"

"Ought to be, yes… but will luck be with us?" Neither of them dared answer.

With some relief, they found the window unlatched, and were able to slip in undetected. Of course, that didn't last long.

"ELPHABA!" Nessarose shouted. It had been so long since Glinda saw the black-haired, wheelchair-bound beauty, but she looked no less elegant now than she did in their days at Shiz. The chair squeaked as she made her way over to them, struggling to push it along with her own slender arms. "Wh-what- GUARDS! What are you doing here?!"

"Nessa, I'm sorry," Elphaba said in a stage whisper as she paced forward, their broom forgotten. "I just… I had a powerful feeling that if I didn't come soon, you…" Her gaze dropped and her voice petered out, as meek and cowed as Glinda remembered from when they met with her father.

"What? Come on, out with it!" Nessa's voice grew more terse as she went on, "You've spent the last two years terrorizing all of Oz, casting a shadow over the name of Thropp! And now, what, you want to waltz back in? To smooth things over?"

"Believe me, I'd love to smooth things over, with both you and Father. But that isn't why-"

"Oh, that's fabulous." A humourless laugh floated out of her throat. "With Father! You really must be a powerful witch now if you think you can manage that!"

Elphaba looked mildly confused. She glanced at Glinda, as if she might hold some key to deciphering her sister's words, but Glinda merely shrugged her own ignorance. Even if she did have any idea what this was about, she was smart enough not to butt into a family discussion. "What do you mean?"

"He's dead, you ignorant celery stalk!"

Glinda swooped forward as fast as she could to catch Elphaba before she crumpled to the ground, and just barely made it. Still, a struggle ensued as Glinda had to use all of her feeble muscle to support both of their weights — made all the worse for Elphaba going entirely boneless.

"Dead… no, he's… he can't- wh-what are you saying to me?"

"Dead. You know, deceased, passed on? Dancing with the Unnamed God? He's gone forever, and it's all your fault!"

"My fault?" Elphaba rasped. The accusation seemed to give her back some small shred of herself in the form of indignation. "H-how? I haven't even- I was on the other side of the kingdom!"

"Exactly." Her fists trembled on the arms of the chair as she shouted at her sister, voice turning hoarse, "After he learned what you'd done, how you'd disgraced us, he died... of shame! Embarrassed to death. You didn't have to lift a finger."

At the last phrase, Elphaba's posture went rigid. "I didn't have to- what are you implying? That I wanted Father to die?!"

"Didn't you? He told me what you said when you came begging for scraps, for protection. How you complained about me getting all of the attention! Look at me, Elphaba!" One hand swept down at her legs as her eyes bored straight through her green sibling. "How can you blame him for wanting to help me more? I am broken! But your legs work just fine; you can stand alone! Why should he help you when you can help yourself?!"

"You… you little…" Elphaba's hands worked into fists and back, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Me, what?" A brief pause. After a moment, she bit out, "Go on, say it. Say whatever horrible thought is in that horribly wicked brain of yours."

"You think you know so much," Elphaba hissed at her. "But you're wrong. I never wanted Father to- all I wanted from him was love and acceptance. But he could never manage it. I was always treated differently because of how I look, which is something I cannot help. And he did it anyway. When you're the colour of Truth Pond scum, I guess that's how you get treated."

Nessa's expression darkened, even though Glinda would not have thought it possible given how dark it was before. "You take that back. He was always saying how proud he was of you, how you had grown up strong and independent. I don't want to hear these lies."

"He never said it to me! Never even said… that he loved me. The only things he said to me were about you, Nessa — unless he was insulting me, or telling me how much I've been fouling things up. Which, of course, was also usually about you."

"So instead, everything should have been about you?! Fine, that's rich; poor Fabala, she's green! It doesn't change anything else about her life, she can walk and dance and go wherever she pleases, but poor Fabala!"

"Don't call me that," Elphaba warned.

"Or what? You'll curse me?" A scoffing noise as she folded her arms. "You have everybody fooled that you're a witch. As if you could manage anything but weird explosions! Well fine, blow me up, sister of mine. If that's what you want, go right ahead; then you'll have both of us out of the way. The last Thropp can have Colwen Grounds all to herself."

The three of them stood in a tense silence for a long moment. Finally, assuming no one else was going to do anything to diffuse the situation, Glinda cleared her throat and asked something that had been bothering her.

"Um… I've heard the people of Oz calling you a witch, too. What's up with that?"

"What? Oh… oh, nevermind their nonsense," she brushed aside. "They don't like my policy changes."

"Policy changes? I don't understand, I thought your father… was…" Then her eyes widened slightly. "Nevermind, I get it. You're the new Munchkin Mayor."

"Eminent Thropp," she corrected.

"Whatever. So what kind of policy changes? You have to be this tall to ride?" Glinda held her hand only a few feet above the ground, alluding to how diminutive a lot of Munchkinlanders were. Not that Nessa or Elphaba were among their number.

"I closed our borders to emigration and immigration. No one goes in or out. It's a temporary measure for everyone's safety. And I increased taxes to funnel into our military, and the Lurlinist Pike Guild; you know our family doesn't believe in Lurlinism, but they're our strongest defense force."

Elphaba nodded her understanding. "Yes, I suppose you work with what you have. Why so much fearmongering, though?"

"That's you, too. What did you think would happen? You zoom around the kingdom, allegedly rescuing Animals and brushing aside the Wizard's forces like they're ants! Everyone's terrified of you!"

"You don't seem to be."

"That's because I understand who you really are; a coward. You made a mistake, got on the wrong side of either the Wizard or Morrible, and you won't face them directly. So you scurry around, using this weird thing with Animals to distract yourself. Isn't that right?"

Elphaba glanced at Glinda, who shrugged. Then she turned back and said, "Not exactly right, but not exactly wrong."

"Oh." Nessa seemed somewhat surprised by the admission. "Then… you really are afraid of the Wizard."

"Of course. Who wouldn't be? You see what he's doing to the Animals, silencing and herding them up to be slaughtered. Whether it's him or if it's Morrible's idea, they're both to blame."

Rolling her eyes, the girl tried to wheel over toward a small wooden cabinet that stood in the corner, but she was having such a hard time of it that Glinda tutted impatiently and strode over to take the handles on the back of chair, wheeling her the rest of the way.

"Thank you," Nessa said curtly. But at least she said it.

"No problem. Do you need help with anything?"

"I can take care of myself," she assured her, glaring over at Elphaba. She opened the door and withdrew a crystal bottle and a decanter, setting them on top. Then she glanced back at the other two as she poured herself a generous helping of a thick, dark liquid. "Can I offer you something? I have Qwice Wine, Gilligin, a pretty good year of Munchcatel…"

"Ooh, I haven't had a good Munchcatel in a while!" Glinda whispered. Nessa smirked slightly as she withdrew another bottle. "What?"

"Nothing. Just that you seem like the type for a sweet wine, that's all."

"Thank you, I think!"

"Nothing for me," Elphaba said flatly. "I'm flying later."

With a shrug, Nessa handed Glinda her drink and lifted her own to her lips, draining a third of it in one go. When Glinda wheeled her back over to Elphaba, she sighed as if irritated, but it seemed to be because she was getting closer to her sister and not from Glinda's actions directly.

"Alright, we've taken care of the small talk. Why are you here now? What is the point of this visit? You've gone two years without darkening my doorstep, so I can't fathom why you would now."

"Because I have a feeling something truly bad is coming. For you." When Nessa's eyes rolled, she snapped, "I don't care if you believe me or not! Or I do, but… oh, forget it. You obviously neither want nor need anything from me, and I don't care if you do. I just didn't want anything horrible to befall my only sister without trying to warn her."

"You can't give me anything I want," Nessa said softly. "You can't bring Father back, you can't make me able to stand. You can't even make Boq…" But then she cut herself off, gripping the glass tighter. "What's the point of you being a witch if you're useless?!"

Unable to stop herself, Glinda whispered, "Hey now, that's not quite fair, is it? Elphaba's not a genie, she can't just grant your every wish. Sorcery is a skill like any other skill; she can only do what she knows how!"

"Then why don't you ask yourself; what has her priority been? Me? Of course not. I've never been her priority."

"You've always been my priority," Elphaba bit out. "Ever since you were born, Father made sure you were the only thing that mattered. Only… only going to Shiz made me begin to see how much I was missing in my life. Being friends with Glinda."

"Aww," Glinda tittered softly, allowing herself a shy smile. "It's no big deal. I just wanted to help you feel pretty and popular for once."

"And you couldn't do that for me?" Nessa snapped. "What a selective fairy godmother."

Glinda turned on her, hands on hips. "That's enough, missy! You're already pretty! Prettier than me, lately! But you don't get popular by trapping everybody in their homes, do you? And speaking of Boq, I set you up with him in the first place! So don't tell me I haven't done anything for you, you, you… jerkity sad sack!"

Elphaba gasped. Nessa looked affronted, of course, but Elphie was the one most definitely shocked that Glinda had said something so hostile against another person to their face. Glinda knew she didn't do that often; it was part of being a member of high society. One didn't go around openly criticising your peers! But in this case, Nessarose was being unkind and unfair to her best friend. She had earned a little payback.

"Well, I…" Nessa took a drink to give herself an excuse not to speak for a moment. Then she said in clipped tones, "You're right, I can't deny you did encourage Boq to approach me. I'm sorry. But Elphaba… I'm not wrong about that."

"She loves you. She just… you can't be her whole life, y'know? But she never wanted to have to leave you for more than one short day. And we're here now, aren't we? You have no idea how long and hard it was for us to come visit you!"

At that, Nessa did look up at her sister, eyes narrowed. "Yes… how long did it take you? Where are you living lately? I'm curious."

"And I'm not that stupid. You'd sell that information to the Wizard in exchange for more protection in a heartbeat, wouldn't you?" When Nessa merely shrugged, Elphaba grunted, "Typical."

"Well, you can't do anything else for me. And it would be your own fault if you slipped up and told me; I'd feel no guilt over it."

"Of course you wouldn't." Elphaba folded her arms over her chest and went on, "Well, I can't bring back our father or get you out of that chair, so you'll just have to enjoy the visit for what… it… hmm."

"'For what it hmm'? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Glinda, may I speak to you for a moment?" When Glinda merely shrugged and trotted over to join her in the far corner of the chambers, Elphaba steered her over close to the window.

"What? What is it?"

"You've been studying the Grimmerie, too, right?" At Glinda's nod, she hissed, "Do you remember anything that might make Nessa able to stand? I could put a flight spell on her underwear, but I think that would go pretty quickly awry — and she wouldn't really be walking."

Glinda's face screwed up in concentration. "You know… I have seen something, but I can't remember where! I think it was some spell for enchanted shoes, but it was for dancing, not walking."

"Yes, exactly, exactly. But as we now know, if we tweak a couple of spells… combine them…"

"The Glowing Stone," she breathed, referring to a rock that now glowed always. They actually had to stick it in a box overnight so that its radiance wouldn't keep them awake. "You're right, that was two different spells! But can you find two that will help Nessie?"

"I don't know. But…" Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder. "That unpleasant toad does not deserve my help, but I won't feel good about myself if there was something I could do for my sister, and I didn't."

"Well, that's definitely… a type of motivation, I guess," Glinda said with a weak laugh. "You start looking for the other spell, I'll stealify her shoes, okay?"

"Oh." Casting another look over at Nessarose, she whispered, "That might not work out as well as you would hope, but see what you can do. I'll get to work."

Vaguely confused by that last warning, Glinda shrugged and left Elphaba to withdraw the Grimmerie from inside her inky cloak. "Listen, Nessa?"

"Yes?"

"Uhh, hey." Her finger pointed down at the padded footrests of her wheelchair. "Do you mind if I borrow those for a moment?"

The girl's reaction was immediate. Glinda could practically see her withdrawing from the conversation a small amount, the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, her eyes lowered, fluttered, glanced back up at Glinda. After a few seconds of this twitchiness, she asked a simple question.

"Why? If you're going to tease me…"

"We're going to try a spell. No promises!" she warned, before any hopes could be raised. "Just… a little something. If it doesn't work, at least we tried, right?"

Thoughtful, she looked down at the shoes. They were quite elegant: sueded blue slippers with small pearls trailing along embroidery that graced each side. Somehow, they had been secured well enough that not a single pearl had been lost — or else it was because they had never been walked in.

"Do you h-have to take them off?"

"Hmm. Maybe not, but it sure seems safer to me. Do you really want us to try throwing magic at them while you're still wearing them?"

"Well… alright, that is a good point. I don't trust Elphaba particularly, but I have this feeling you wouldn't lie about something this mundane." She began to bend forward, then was stopped by realising she was still holding her drink. "Oh… this is hard enough normally without being inebriated!"

Chuckling, Glinda knelt and said, "I'll get them, don't worry. Relax."

"No! D-don't…" After a long pause, she looked away, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "Okay, but don't… don't look at my feet."

"What?"

"Please? That's all I'm asking."

The whole matter puzzled her. What was the huge crisis? Shrugging her agreement, Glinda did as she was asked; she looked long enough to get a good grip on the backs of the shoes, then slipped them off without ever glancing down. Hearing the quiet thud of Nessa's ankles into the padded rests, she whispered, "Sorry!"

"It's alright," she said with a nervous chuckle. "At least I can pretend I moved them on my own."

"If you say so. Um, be back in a minute!"

Once Glinda and Elphaba were crowded around the Grimmerie, scanning its pages with the shoes placed above it on the small table, she was able to help look for the proper spell. As they debated the pros and cons of certain choices, another question niggled in her mind. When she decided she couldn't ignore it any longer, she asked.

"So what's with Nessa's feet? She wouldn't let me look at them."

"Hm?" Elphaba was clearly distracted, her index finger running along a passage. "Oh, nothing's wrong with them. Other than the fact that they don't work, I mean." Seeing that didn't satisfy Glinda, she sighed and said, "It's… hard to explain."

"You don't have to if it's all that difficult, Elphie. I'm just a nosy-pants."

"Just… well, it's our Father's fault. Not that it was something 'bad' he did, exactly, but he was trying to make her feel better about her condition. She was having a hard time with it one day, about how everyone kept staring at her lame legs while she was out. So he told her that they were just jealous of her shoes. When I was older, I kind of realised that he had been making everything up as he went, but he told her that she looked so pretty in her chair, and her shoes were so lovely, that everyone was envious. From that day on, he kept finding newer and more intricate slippers and boots and any other kind of shoe for her."

"That's sweet of him," Glinda said softly, smiling to herself. She knew Elphaba probably didn't see it that way, but she couldn't deny the doting man had at least done that much to make his handicapped daughter feel less unsightly. "But I still don't understand."

Shrugging, Elphaba turned the page, still more focused on her work. "Nessa drew the conclusion herself. She noticed that people are told they look nice if they're wearing pretty clothes, and that it's shocking — taboo, if you will — if they're seen wearing too little. And since my father had made such a big deal about how lovely she looks in her top-of-the-line shoes, combined with already being ashamed that her legs don't function…"

"Ohhh," she breathed as the last piece fell into place within her mind, pounding her open hand with a fist. "So going barefoot is the same thing as going naked to her? How very odd, indeed!"

"Yes, it's odd," Elphaba said sharply, looking up at last. "And I'll thank you not to tease her about it. I think she's silly, but to her, it's reality. So just… don't let slip that I told you any of this, alright? I'm sure she's already embarrassed enough at being 'exposed'."

That did make Glinda squirm in secondhand embarrassment. "When you put it that way, I suppose I would feel a little strange if some old classmate asked if I'd hand them my brassiere. But okay, I won't say a word."

It was another ten minutes before Nessa asked, "How's it coming?" When neither of them answered, she did not pester them further — merely sat in her chair, anxious to have her shoes back regardless of whether or not they were any improved from her sister's efforts. Glinda had to resist the temptation to glance down whenever she peered over at her; she knew it was the mere matter of being commanded "do not look at this" that made her want to look at all. Funny how the power of suggestion could sway one's attentions.

When Elphaba began to chant, low and long and focused, Glinda saw Nessa stirring out of the corner of her eye, saw her getting closer a little at a time. Clearly, it was a struggle for her to make it there, but her curiosity at their spellcasting fuelled her actions.

"Is it finished?" she asked in a quiet whisper when the vermillion lips had fallen silent. "Have you really… I mean, is there any chance…?"

"They look… different," Glinda breathed, raising a hand toward them. At first, she felt a thrill of dread to touch the shoes, but when she truly thought about how much she trusted her travelling companion, she picked one up as Elphaba did the other. "Are they… silver now? Or red? Maybe that's just the light from the fireplace."

"It is, I think," Elphaba agreed, just as captivated by them despite having performed the spell herself. After a moment, Glinda turned to look up at Nessa apologetically.

"Um… is it alright if I put them back on?"

"Y-yes," Nessa said breathlessly, cheeks still rosy but her eyes eager as they took in the shimmering shoes. "I want to know if this has worked at once!"

So Glinda obliged. This time, she couldn't help but look because she had to guide the shoes on properly… and there really wasn't anything to see. Nessa had dainty little feet, of course, but they were no more or less remarkable than any other pair she'd ever come across. Then the shoes were on, and both she and Elphaba were standing back to observe.

But before Nessa could attempt to stand, the door squeaked open and an unimpressive figure strode inside. Short in stature and with a drab face that was not entirely unpleasant… and was a bit familiar.

"Madame, I've prepared your- oh!" His eyes went wide to see the other two. "Goodness, it's- GUARDS!"

"Shush, Boq!" Nessa commanded him with a wave of her arm. Glinda flinched, even though the guards had not come the last time Nessa herself called. "Wait a moment. I… I want you to see something."

"Madame, these are criminals! The Wizard will want to be warned wight away!"

"You mean 'right aw-' Oh, I should know better by now," Elphaba admonished herself.

"We can't waste any time! Quick, I'll go and get them while they're… still… what on Oz?"

Boq found himself unable to finish the thought. His previously-disabled mistress was now standing, pushing unsteadily to her feet from the chair. It was already miraculous enough that she was standing unaided, shoes dazzling with white and red flashes — but there would be more. One foot at a time, she began to take steps, arms out to either side. After the first few, she began to tip, and Glinda and Elphaba both dashed forward and righted her again.

"Th-thank you," she breathed as she stood. "But… I think I…" Another few steps, without their aid. "I'm getting it. I'm walking. Ozma Above, I'm walking!"

                                                  To Be Continued…

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

computer program that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, with a lot of sand and rocks His eyes are bloodshot due to his anger at being unable to contact any of his friends or family and covered in dust, he notices the reporter's computer screen which has been turned off and he begs the Lord to save him from this hell on earth But nobody is there to save him except himself a crime scene, with bloody rings all over the worn out sheets and scattered sniper rifles a around in red and the announcer finds barbed wire around two large posts that are sticking out of the ground knifes of various kinds, a large amount of stacked adult magazines focused on showing the decensitized parts of women, empty burnered, zippos into blackness, and before his opened eyes is a horrible beast: wanting to rip his soul from his body and drink it for morale a dreadful song, they divide him and his emotions, they want the energy for themselves He holds three objects close to himself as a shield from the demons in this dead land There is a box of shotgun shells for when he starts to battle the demons in his head, which is mostly all the time He can see the horizon, a faint line of clouds that should mean some sort of shelter from this heat But in this blasted land, heat is everywhere a stupid grin becomes plastered on his face of stopping for gas here, making himself known to these demons He yells at his fingers for not reloading after finishing the shotgun shells Two spherical looking creatures are approaching him They have large sharp teeth, their skin is a pale white Arms buzz with muscles, holding up oversized hands and sanctify himself The first demon stretches out its hand and begins speak in a deep voice that sounds like the beginning of life choice, love "Now is your chance" the demon says He pockets the shotgun shells and pulls out his phone No reception and he notices flashes in the distance, a constant state of thunderstorms rage around the landscape or something and dropping dead of heat So he continues the downward spiral, instead of taking control over himself They grin in delight at the wickedness before the world went to hell Now it spreads and infects everyone, but mostly him All of his heritage, wiped away by the malicious computer code Snappy exhange of clud speak happens back and forth between the three, he ignores all of it they finally figure out a working comunication with clud Unlike astryls previous excursions into computers as a child this one seemed to be filled with malice, he leaves the landscape with no regrets ic code addressed to senanting cludcane cluddertub Snappy remarks he shouldve just blown his head off Menancingly it implies it will wait for him and the demons frothing at the mouth to be released on the website again They set a time in a couple days that they will meet He shouldn't leave the website without an escort, but then again he should've been safe anyways and he can only travel in the storm without help It was an accident this time This seems to create areas that will loop and recycle the interal program With that the interal landscape disapears The monitor has bizarrely turned into a TV to him, this is done on alien machines million of lightyears away Their shop has been ran by demons for demon's So it only wild that the groceries would be infested on top of being a bit worn out due to this crazy intergalactic excursion through computer space The need to quench one's thirst or hunger are not traits of immortality Just as Cludcane suggested, he needs to gather some cuke to plug the dam holes in before the next rain storm comes They aren't going to way too much and the trading of lesser value goes down a lot better when you have large denomination with which to bargin during the time he lives here on the demon run internet by eating things cludcane can keep up and when he finishes whatever this is they can visit him for intermission of gluttony and indecency will cause the spider-web sized cracks wylde The prices are updated in real time with the changes in value as long as it does not taste bad it won't hurt him This skill has to be used as needed to survive while the debug process takes place and taintd his imagination unless he wants to dig for something underground hey are not very nutritious but the eating of dirt and sand is good for staying hydrated the more he eats and they can get in between your teeth and splinter when not chewed well enough and if he bites it first it is very poisonous thinking about what to eat the interweb demon WE now join he and Cludcane picking out which one to go to an oasis Oases can provide fresh water and fish among other things an urban environment Word filters through the demon underground about what is going on in them an ecomihc community a welcome sound rumbles through the wind res in the east a golden speck appears followed by another The specks grow and grow until they become recognizable as dozens of buggies racing across the desert sand towards him arms begin to lift him up off the ground as the buggies get closer and closer And closer laughs can be heard for miles The buggies stop a live in a horseshoe form around him creature can feel their stares penetrating into his soul This Has all been too much creature begins to yell and flail He is lifted into the air again but this time the tentacles begin beating him around creature begins to yell and flail as limpness takes him the tentacles begin whipping him around waiting to see what he will do next creature puts everything out of his mind and focuses on the creatures thoughts so far creature lets out an ear piercing shriek His black tentacles begin whipping around as he tumbles end over end across the sands creature curls into a fetal position Black blood and guts are everywhere This has all been too much creature can feel his body melt away what has he done? and the tentacles rope him back in creature's body runs itself over and over again getting faster and faster The tentacles hold him very tightly creature gets larger, translucent and harder to see and the tentacles begin whipping him around waiting to see what he will do next is late but he finally looks at the black box Astryl left behind creature's shattered remains slump to the ground What his now? what like Kludstrom himself, forever a temp? programming goes haywire and begins spitting out pieces of himself into every machine he can find creature begins constructing a huge underground sanctuary with tons of shops and automated machines it is a wonderful place to live creature's body contorts and morphs into Astryl magnificent building creature it constructs many structures for the sanctuary creature sees someone, it can't be Astryl or any of his minions nothing makes sense anymore it is Kludstrom not sure when creature's primal destructive urges flood though his mind and body he leaves the sanctuary and wanders off into the desert has lost his connection with the sanctuary on dune after endless dunes Astryl travels alone, no destination in mind creature's instincts are being overwhelmed with thoughts of self-preservation He stops then plans his next move Going to be a challenge keeps plugging away sometimes he sees missing parts as healed, just to realize they were never there not sure where this is going either creature is getting closer and closer to the sanctuary His complicated route has baffled several of Astryl generous duplicating creatures creature has tapped into the power processing deep inside the sanctuary Nothing can stop what comes next creature is back where it all started Can it assimilate what is left of Kludstrom with out harming or destroying it? creature's incredible journey has come to an end--in a liquid mass of sheer horror What will rise from the bloody dune craters? creature's fingertips begin quivering as they reach the sanctuary the tranquilizer still lingers through the green glow of it's blood creature's hide is covered with several large and still growing sores--removing its ability to stay in the sun creature's awareness is too high as Astryl darkened altering creature's behavior has taken it over strange internal conversations abound creature's shaking turns violent as the sanctuary flies apart from the inside what next? creature's attention quickly turns to mercy as Kludstrom restructuring creature writhes in pain forever creature's body shuts down in a power surge, little is left but a twisted face in cracked glass Kludstrm split preparing creature's stasis interrupted creature's instincts are too much it is confused and scared, Can it keep Astryl prepared creature alive? through the roots making sure none of Kludstrom is trying to escape the last of dozens of Scuttling creatures that recently dug to the surface creature did Kludstrom planted Astryl prepared creature inaccurate memories? probably to confuse it and keep its attention occupied while it hatched its own plan in a place THAT IS NEVER SWITCHED OFF Kludstrm profane operating creature profiles: Name: Astryl Traitorous Creations power is relative to what a Creations knows it can do on a dusty shelf forever and ever Kludstrm faded overflowing the Scuttlers were just another trial to determine Astryl vanished how it handled large Kludstrm distracted drifting in and out of consciousness as the last of their reserves give out about --------x---------- A sun filled sky grudged retreating light to the land below, granting the evening shadows a brief reprieve Three lovers took a stroll through the freshness, absently enjoying the surroundings The chirping of crickets swelled in a crescendo, the tiny songs echoing vocals from birds deep within the trees views could just be seen to the north---if you knew where to look lights could just be seen to the south---if you knew where to look buildings could just be seen to the east---if you knew where to look if you didn't know where to look, that's where THIS story takes place This story isn't made for you We can only hope that once upon a time I wasn't as alone as you Wings it is just a dream interesting dreams are always the worst

[adventuresinthespace]

Selkie

You’ve been in The Space for four days. As odd as life is here you’ve grown used to it. Talking with other people who seem just as lost as you are and hanging out with Angelo who seems to have taken a particular liking to you.

You’re sitting in an old armchair, it’s scarlet colour fading and its stuffing squeezing out through the tired seams. There had been an influx of food you recognised as definitely from Earth arriving at the buffet tables, curtesy of Elsie who you had gone back to talk to many times. Angelo had accused you if flirting to get treats from her but truthfully you just like her company, and the continued supply of Gushir which Elsie always made available. You have gathered quite a feast for yourself and carefully snuck off to enjoy it in one of the rare quieter areas of The Space. You are just about to bite into one of the pastries The Triplets had served that day when you notice a girl staring at you. She is a good twenty metres away, and everyone seems to be giving her a wide berth. Her face is pale and slightly sallow, framed by long raven black hair that falls in strange feathery strands and drifts in a non-existent breeze. Her eyes are dark, slightly too big for her face, which seems rather flat, and from this distance you cannot tell what colour they are but they are wide and fixed determinately on you. She sways slightly on her seat, a long bench joined with an even longer table that looked positively medieval, and she traced circles into the wood with a long finger that has four joints instead of three. You look away, you’re a little freaked out and you try to continue eating, ignoring the girl’s gaze. It proves to be very difficult, you keep glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. it goes on like this for another ten minutes, you trying and failing to eat comfortably and her unmoving and focused. You’re just about to get up and leave when Angelo finds you.

“You hiding from me?” He swings himself around the tables and chairs, throwing himself onto an office chair beside you. He goes spinning out of sight for a second as the wheels of the chair squeal in protest. He shuffles himself back into view grinning broadly, a laugh on the edge of his lips.  You smile back at him. He snatches an apple off your pile of food and takes a massive bite out of it. “Can’t blame you,” he says, his voice muffled by his chewing, “with this hoard to hide.”

“It’s not a hoard, I’m just hungry today,” you answer a little defensively.

“There is no way you’re going to eat all of this.” He gestures toward spread of food.

“Watch me.” You reply, taking a large bite out of a pastry.

He raises his eyebrows at you and puts his hands up in a placating way. Once again you see the girl staring at you out of the corner of your eye. A wave of annoyance passes through you, so you decide to stare back in challenge. Angelo follows your glare and spots the girl who still hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Oh, that’s just Selkie,” he says offhandedly, returning to his stolen apple. You gulp down your mouthful without breaking eye contact with her.

“Who?”

“She’s one of the few that have been here a loooong time.” He draws out the o of the long to show when he says long he means longer than what you had been led to believe was the average.

“I thought you said people get back after a few days.” There is a note of panic in your voice, you may have gotten used to life here but you had no intention of staying forever. 

“Most do,” he takes another bite, “Some don’t.” he shrugs at you. “Selkie has been here about six months now.” Your eyes go wide and turn to stare at Angelo in horror.

“Six months?” you say this more to yourself than to him, but he nods anyway. “Why is she staring at me though?”

“She does that sometimes.” He is uninterested, eyeing the handful of chocolate bars you had placed on a side table.

“What’s her problem?”

“Oh, she’s insane.” His voice is so nonchalant that for a second you don’t quite register what he says.

“I beg your pardon.” The panic has returned to your voice, and suddenly the girl’s gaze seems  a lot more sinister. You take a nervous sip from a bottle of water. 

“Yeah, she lost it about two weeks after arriving.” He nods to himself. “She was perfectly normal when she turned up. Well, as normal as one gets here, and she’s a shapeshifter.” You choke on your drink.

“A what?”

“Shapeshifter. Quite a good one too.” His voice is a little sad, as if he is remembering a friend he lost long ago. “We never had one of those before and everyone wanted to see her change into their favourite animal and stuff. She had a great time shifting for people, like the attention I suppose.” Angelo looks over at Selkie again. She has finally stopped staring at you turning to Angelo instead, he gives her a little wave. “But after a while people lost interest, and she was getting lonely. Have you ever heard of a mantis shrimp?” It is such an odd question that it takes you by surprise and you can’t answer straight away. 

“Um, it sounds vaguely familiar.” You weren’t sure where you knew it from but it must have been an animal from Earth, your one at least.

“They’re sea creatures, related to lobsters and crabs. They have incredible eyes, sixteen photoreceptors compared to most people’s three. There are a couple of people here who have four, maybe five, but nothing close to a mantis shrimp.” He continues munching on the apple but his voice is quiet and his tone serious. “They can see things we can’t ever imagine, explosions of colour we don’t even have names for. Selkie thought it would be entertaining to shift into one and see those colours for herself.” You listen intently, fascinated by the story.

“Did it work? Did she see them?” He nods solemnly.

“We don’t know what she saw but it drove her mad.” You look back to Selkie, she’s staring at her fingers now, still tracing circles. You feel your gut twist with sympathy. “She turned back after a couple of minutes and she tried to tell us, but there were no words. You try and think of a new colour and then describe it.” You try even though you know you can’t, it blows your mind for a bit. Angelo sees the look of intense confusion  on your face.

“Exactly,” he says. He tosses his apple core aside, a tiny little creature covered in black bristles and bits of lint leaped from under a purple ottoman and swallows it whole before scuttling off. “Imagine having that feeling all the time. She kept turning back but it only made things worse, her mind couldn’t cope and…well…” His kind brown eyes are full of tears, and your glad you weren’t there to witness Selkie’s slow descent into madness over the rainbow no one else could see. He looks up, “Hi Selkie.”

You turn around so fast you crack your neck. Selkie has walked over without making a single sound, like a ghost. Now that she is standing you see that she is wearing a thin white garment almost like a night dress, ending just above the knees of spindly legs that looked rather like a deer’s only they end in webbed feet rather than hooves. She seems surprised to be standing there and her eyes search for something but you can’t tell what,  her whole being appears uprooted, lost.

“Hi,” you say quietly. She turns those dark eyes on you and you can finally see that they’re the deepest shade of blue, the kind found in the depths of the ocean. You see her pupils and your heart stops for a moment. They are vertical and thinner than a lizard’s, they are eerie and brimming with silent emotion.

“You know your hair it’s…it’s…” her voice is soft and distant as if speaking from far away. You glance nervously at Angelo but he says nothing. You follow his lead and stay silent. “I’ve seen it before…like… the penultimate centre of a cracked black diamond where the light runs through…underground jungles made of dust and fossil bones or maybe shells… damp and dry…halfway…no, not quite…” she trails off again frowning to herself. Without warning she starts screaming at the top of her lungs, “I’VE SEEN IT BEFORE I SWEAR!” several people turn around and stare. “IT’S NEXT TO GREEN BUT IT’S NOT GREEN. IT’S NOT GREEN AT ALL BUT IT’S IN PLANTS AND PLANTS ARE GREEN BUT NOT QUITE…AND…and,” her breathing is shallow and her expression is panicked. You don’t know what to do so you just sit there, mouth hanging slightly open.

“It’s alright Selkie, we understand.” It’s Angelo, he reaches out a hand to her and she grasps it like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Her face is full of hope.

“You do?” she mumbles, and he nods. She sways on the spot, pushed by an invisible wind.

“Sit down Selk.” Angelo says softly pulling the ottoman closer and pushing her gently down onto it. Your still a little lost, your heart full of sadness, and you do the first thing you can think of. Taking a chocolate bar from the side table you offer it to her. Angelo looks at you in surprise, for a moment you fear you’ve made a terrible blunder but Selkie gently takes it from you a small smile on her thin lips. She says nothing as she eats, Angelo chuckles softly and snatches up a cake. All three of you sit in silence, working your way through the mountain of food. 

Thanks for reading this instalment of The Space. This is our first introduction to an inhabitant of The Space that isn’t human. Selkie is a particularly talented member of a race of shapeshifters. She is able to turn into any animal at will (with a little bit of work) whereas other members of her species have a limit to the number or can only turn into animals from a certain genus. We will see more of her in later instalments and meet some other species too. The next story will be titled The Knight and you will be taking some more direct action with a newcomer. Once again thanks for reading!