#disinfernus

[magmahearts]

TIMING: recent PARTIES: @disinfernus & @magmahearts LOCATION: elysium hotel & casino SUMMARY: cass decides she works at the casino now. dīs has some objections. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Casinos were cool. Forget the flowers and the records and the dusty museum stuff — this was the best job Cass had picked up by far. There were bright lights and loud noises, people with cool chips that they all seemed really into. And all Cass had to do was hand people cards? Score. In all honesty, the job was, like, super easy. It was why she’d gotten annoyed at the big guy in the suit who kept coming over to look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed like he didn’t like how she was doing things. It was her job, she was pretty sure she knew how to do it.

So… She’d sent him home. After he’d dropped his pen and she’d picked it up for him, earning a thank you, of course. He’d repaid the thanks by taking the rest of the day off, and it was going great. Cass was pretty sure she was doing an awesome job, because everyone who’d come over to her table had won. There was a line to sit where she was dealing now! It must have been going well.

Except… The guy walking towards her, the big boss who she thought might own the casino, didn’t look, like, excited. They looked a little annoyed, actually. What was that about?

—

Dīs knew Tom. Dīs knew Tom very well, even if he did have quite a boring name. They knew his exemplary work ethic and how it would be quite unlike him to take a break in the middle of the shift, especially when it wasn’t even break time. Now, Dīs would have given the middle aged man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was feeling ill in some way or received devastating news? But after having caught who took his place, well — they couldn’t say they knew who that was exactly. They knew every face that bore a name badge and she was not one of them.

The towering figure made a beeline for that particular table; if they hadn’t noticed the strange woman seated at the dealer’s chair they would have noticed the commotion. There seemed to be a bit too much excitement coming off of them, which both confused and irritated Dīs. As they neared though, with lips parted and ready to chastise and question, a familiarity rolled over them like an ocean wave. Tom’s sudden disappearance from the table made a lot of sense now.

Fae could recognize other fae, but how would she react to them throwing a monkey wrench into their little bout of… fun? “What do you think you are doing?”

—

Oh. As the angry-looking big boss came closer, Cass felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach that came with being in the presence of another fae. There was something else familiar about them, too, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it might be. Perhaps they’d met before, when the other fae’s glamour had been down? She was sure she would have remembered their face if they’d met when they were wearing it. She was good with faces.

She leaned back in her seat, blinking up at the other fae. “Uh…” What had the pen guy called it again? Oh, right. “I’m dealing cards! It’s, like, really easy. You just have to hand them to people.” Some of the people at the other tables were doing tricks with theirs, making them dance from hand to hand, but Cass had no patience for that. Just hand them out, and that was that. What was the point in making them dance, anyway? It just felt stupid. “If you want to give me a raise, I’m totally here for it. I could use extra money.”

—

Either she was playing stupid or she really was that oblivious. In the long run, it didn’t really matter considering the ruckus she caused, but maybe they needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. At least, for now. There was the question of, what if she was new to human things, but the inkling of familiarity said otherwise. Then again, they weren’t exactly the picture of a social butterfly — they had a tendency to stick to the caves, to the darkness. Her naivety would make sense, then, had they met under the cloak of lived ignorance. 

Regardless of any of that, Dīs was curious and they couldn’t very well have her mucking about on the game floor. “Hmph. Perhaps,” they started, choosing to change their tone with the hope of luring her away from the table. Their frustrated expression softened, just slightly — a complete switch would be too much, too noticeable. “You have made these people… happy, I suppose.” The words were difficult to get out, as they wanted nothing more than to remove the problem immediately. They made a show of taking a deep breath, as if to ‘calm their anger’. “Fine. Come on, then. We’ll… talk about that raise. And you need a break, anyway.”

—

There was something so familiar about them, wasn’t there? It felt as if she’d met them before, but she didn’t recognize them. Without the glamour, maybe? There were so few fae she’d met in town with their glamour down, but it was a possibility. She wondered if they recognized her. Cass tended to keep her glamour up unless she either had to take it down or someone she trusted asked for her to. She liked looking human far more than she liked looking fae, liked to pretend she was one. That was what all this was about, too. It was fun. So much more fun than her very brief stint at the museum had been.

She grinned, preening under the praise. Other fae made her uneasy, but only because she worried they wouldn’t approve of her, and this one was. They were telling her she’d made people happy, they were asking her to talk to them about a raise. Cass was killing this whole employment thing, honestly. She flashed a smile to the people at her table, the ones waiting in line behind it. “Gotta go,” she said, offering the crowd a mock salute. There was a grumble of displeasure that made her feel warm. They wanted her to stay. Wasn’t that amazing? Pushing out from behind the table, she approached the big boss with a spring in her step. “All right,” she said, “lead the way!”

—

Her joy was palpable — they almost felt bad about potentially ruining it. But maybe it didn’t have to be ruined? If the cards were right and there was something of use there, then maybe they wouldn’t have to run her off. That was a big what if and not all fae liked to play nicely, or even cooperate at all, and given their experience, they didn’t have a lot of positive outcomes with their kin. Not even their own flesh and blood made nice, why would a stranger?

There were a few disappointed looks thrown in Dīs’ direction, the destroyer of their winning streak, but they could care less. Order would be wrought soon enough, whether they all liked it or not. Ignoring them all, they focused on leading the overtly excited fae away from the mass of people. Is that what they got for employing humans? They couldn’t ping whenever something inhuman waltzed through the door and they couldn’t exactly defend themselves very well, either. The only good they gave was their innate ability to walk into, what they would consider, obvious traps.

Oh well, the damage had been done, now it was time for some cleanup. The walk to Dīs’ office was fairly short in relation to the game floor. Despite their reluctance to deal with matters personally, they did prefer it and wanted to make sure they were close enough so issues didn’t sit for too long. The office door was closed softly behind them; they didn’t want to come across as too angry. “You may sit, if you’d like,” they started, keen to find some semblance of a reason as to why she was there in the first place before absolutely losing their cool. They could feel it just under the surface, the itch to question and push right out of the gate just bubbling and swirling with irritation.

They found their usual spot in front of their desk with their lanky frame pressed against it. They looked a bit too casual for the anger that nestled under their skin. “I know…” they breathed out, trying to steady themself, “... that you do not work here. So,” they shrugged and offered a smile, though it didn’t seem entirely too pleasant in the moment. “What are you doing here?”

—

The less the casino owner spoke, the more unease Cass felt. That flutter in her stomach that marked them as fae came with no small amount of anxiety, rejection feeling more and more inevitable with each step as she followed them back to what must have been their office. It was nice; she let herself look around for a moment, even if she didn’t let herself do so with her usual thief’s gaze. No focusing on how expensive those bookends probably were, no thinking about whether or not there was a safe behind that painting. She wasn’t here to steal anything. She wanted to be liked so much more than she wanted to be comfortable.

She took a seat in one of the big, comfortable chairs, folding her hands in her lap and keeping the smile firm on her face. Fake it till you make it was something she’d become good at, over the years. It wasn’t a verbal lie like the ones that made her stomach turn; it was so much more vague, so much easier for a fae’s tongue to swallow. She could pretend to be useful long enough for them to think it was true. She knew how to do that.

“But I do work here. The guy out on the floor said I could.” After she’d twisted him into a bind, sure, but what did that matter? She’d gotten the job more ‘fair and square’ than those rich guys who had their parents hire them on. “I’m just here to work. A casino seems like a fun place to work, and I like to have fun. And I’m good at it. Didn’t you see how happy everyone was?”

—

At this point, Dīs didn’t bother with trying to hide their exasperated expression, not when she was giving them pushback. There was a sliver of admiration for her being able to get in how she did, but again, the humans were generally too stupid to pass up on a ‘thank you’ or to freely give their name. The admiration would have continued if she hadn’t doubled down. It also wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world if it hadn’t been their establishment, their temporary home.

“He doesn’t have that kind of power here, regardless. He does not make hiring decisions — I do.” They pressed their lips together in a scowl. “I saw that, yes, but that’s not really the point of this casino. Or rather, any casino for that matter. They’re allowed to win every now and then, but not like that.” Dīs uttered out a sigh. She had to be young, either that or inexperienced — or, it was all a ruse. There were too many what ifs, too many variables that they didn’t like, that they couldn’t control.

But they could always use the help. “The point is to make them happy enough that they keep coming back, not to make them stupid rich.”

—

Just like that, the other shoe dropped. The fae scowled, looked angry, and Cass knew that she’d messed things up. She’d said the wrong thing, taken some misstep. She wished she were better at recognizing that she was making a mistake before she made it, wished she were capable of not upsetting people when it wasn’t her intention to do so.

“Well, he did. That’s not — It isn’t my fault that he did that.” Carefully chosen words to avoid the lie, because technically, he never would have done it if she hadn’t trapped him into it. Selfish choices made by a selfish person, and now this other fae was angry. Cass shifted in her seat. “But why? If they win, they’ll keep playing. If they lose, they’ll quit. Shouldn’t you be trying to make them stick around for as long as possible?” That was always her goal, in any situation — to make people stay. Money seemed far less important than all that.

—

“It’s not?” They asked, absolutely incredulous and disbelieving. “I know he’s not the most useful tool in my arsenal and he can be an idiot at times, but please don’t lie to me.” There was a taste of weariness in their tone, as if they would rather be anywhere else than having this conversation. And truthfully, they did want to be anywhere else. Sure, sating that curiosity was always preferred, but not when it felt like pulling teeth.

“Because then that will be too easy. They may grow bored having satisfied their cravings. If you keep it just out of reach, just enough for a taste, they’ll continue to chase it until they can take it. But you should never let them take it, not completely. That’s how you keep them coming back. Giving them what they want, whenever they want, makes them… overly excitable, expectant even, and then they get dangerous. We don’t want them dangerous, we...” We want them complacent, is what they wanted to say, but they stopped themself short with a press of their lips.

“We don’t want things to get out of hand.”

—

“I’m not lying!” Not directly, at least. There was a difference, Cass had learned, in lying and not telling the full truth. She was good at skirting the line, at avoiding all the negative effects that came with lying as a fae. But the guilt that came with it was there all the same. She didn’t want to lie to the other fae because she wanted them to like her. She had to lie to the other fae because she wanted them to like her. It was a lose-lose scenario, a question without an answer. How do I make myself into someone worth liking became what parts of myself do I have to avoid being in order for people to keep me around. 

She tried to understand what they were saying, but… the thing was, Cass wanted those people playing cards to like her, too. She wanted them to keep grinning and clapping and high-fiving her when they won. She didn’t want them to be upset with her when they lost, just like she didn’t want the fae across from her to be angry that she’d let too many of them win. Another no-win scenario, another unanswerable question. “But they were having fun,” she said, quietly confused. “How can it be bad when they were having fun?”

—

Dīs tapped the fingernails of their left hand against the top of their desk. It was a slow, rhythmic movement that sounded akin to a ticking clock. Not lying, not lying. No, technically not, they supposed. Not unless she was that good at not showing discomfort or pain — they didn’t know anyone like that, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The lampade pursed their lips, their expression stern as they stared down at the other fae. “But you’re not taking responsibility for your actions, actions that have disrupted my game floor.”

“If you want fun like that, find a faun. I’m sure they’ll have some neverending party to attend to.” It was an honest suggestion, one they genuinely thought the other fae might benefit from — both to satiate her seemingly innate desire for fun and to get her out of their hair. “It’s bad because then they expect to win all the time. That’s part of the game… It’s more fun to lose sometimes, because then it makes winning that much more…” Dīs waved their free hand around, as if trying to draw the words out of thin air “... special. Believe me, their euphoria would have been short lived if they continued on that way.”

“Why do you want them to have fun so badly?”

—

“What was disrupted? It’s not like anyone got mad and went home.” Cass blinked; not feigning innocence, but genuinely not understanding what was wrong with the situation. She didn’t comprehend how a casino made its money, of course. The way she saw it, a casino was something akin to a water park or a fairground. People bought their chips and gambled with them the same way people bought tickets at a fair to spend on games and rides. None of the movies or television shows she’d watched to learn how humanity worked had ever told her anything that differed from this. 

She hummed, thinking of Conor. He certainly wouldn’t be seeing to fun times or neverending parties, would he? “But I like it here. Why do you run a casino if you don’t want people to have fun?” It was a genuine question. Everything about the conversation, at least from her end, was genuine. Cass wanted to understand almost as badly as she wanted to be understood. “None of the ones losing at the other tables looked like they were having fun, though. They all looked kind of pissed off. Isn’t it better for you if they’re not pissed off?”

She studied the casino owner, a little perplexed at the question. “People like to have fun. People like you more when they’re having fun. So why wouldn’t I want them to have fun?”

—

This conversation never should have happened. It never should have come to fruition. They should have just kicked her out to begin with instead of trying to have a conversation because she was fae. That was really the only reason they brought her back to the office — to try and determine what she was doing in the casino in the first place. It seemed they had their answer and on the surface, it seemed absolutely genuine. She did seem like she wanted to have fun. 

Dīs wondered if they could just… disappear. What would she do? Probably create another mess, that would be unwise. “They may not have left, but it was disrupting other tables. Everyone else in that room was trying to think and pay attention to their cards. That’s why the slot machines are separate from the game floor. There’s too much noise.” Counter argument after counter argument to try and reason with this apparently naive fae. Dīs may have literally crawled out of a hole in the ground, but they weren’t this stubborn, were they? 

 Why do you run a casino if you don’t want people to have fun? Because it wasn’t about fun, was what they wanted to tell her. This was just a blip, a hobby, something to take and rebuild everything they had lost. It was something to take up their time, to help their efforts in finding out what happened at the beginning of the year and why. They couldn’t tell her that, though, could they? She seemed too blinded by whatever propelled her towards this excitement, perhaps even a little one track minded but that was all surface level. They didn’t know her.

“Just — the business will lose money if everyone in there wins, alright? And then the business can’t buy any of the nice drinks that those people drink or pay for the laundry or the food that these people consume. There needs to be balance. Without balance, there is nothing. No games, no winning, no fun.” They closed their eyes for just a moment. People like you more when they’re having fun. So why wouldn’t I want them to have fun? Dīs stole a slow inhale this time. There was a ping of familiarity in her query, one that gave the nymph pause.

“Why does it matter if they like you? They don’t care about you. They just want to win.” Despite their irritation, there was a ghost of sadness in their expression, one that didn’t linger. They wouldn’t let it.

—

She still didn’t understand, still didn’t get it. The more they tried to explain, the less sense it seemed to make. If Cass knew the first thing about how a casino operated, maybe she would have been able to nod along, to agree, to understand where they were coming from. But as it was? It felt like they were arguing just to argue, like they just didn’t want to admit that she was right. Frustration began to bubble, and she was quick to shove it down. This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t why she was here.

“Don’t people pay for the drinks and the laundry and the food, too? Can’t you just make the money off that?” How much money did they need here? Cass got by on barely any at all, was fine with it. It was better, she thought, to have less, lest you find yourself turning into one of those billionaires who hoarded treasure like a dragon and refused to do anything good with the riches they’d built for themselves. She didn’t want to be like that, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting to be like that, either. It was better to be loved. She wanted to be loved.

Which was why their question perplexed her all the more, why the following statements stung. An expression of hurt flickered across her face, and that frustration that she’d tried so hard to push down rose up to the surface. “They like me more than they like you,” she snapped. “People like it when someone cares that they’re having a good time. People — People like me. Because of that, because I do. People like me.” It was a lie, and she knew it. She felt the way it burned in her chest, the way it turned her stomach. She stood, trying to hide the discomfort. “This is stupid. You’re mad that people are having fun? That’s stupid.” 

—

It wasn’t about the money. They liked the way it shone in the light and how old bills felt beneath their fingertips, but there were better and shinier things than money. It was for appearances. It was to keep the ship afloat. But she wasn’t allowed to know that. So she was angry. She didn’t understand why things couldn’t be fun and loose and a party all the time. So she was angry. And she turned it back onto Dīs, for ruining her fun and her little plan to get them all to like her. That’s what they surmised, anyway.

“They —” the nymph sighed through clenched teeth, “—they pay for some of that, not the laundry, but everything else. It’s not enough. Employees, electricity, internet, water, food… You wouldn’t understand. And I don’t think you even want to understand.” It could be said that Dīs didn’t have much of an open mind, instead choosing to live in their own version of the world, their own personal one — but they didn’t like it when someone else dished it out. That may have been a little hypocritical. Did that bother them? Not in the slightest.

They must have struck a nerve, because the young fae grew angry through her confusion and now stood from her previous relaxed, seated position. “I don’t want them to like me! I don’t care ! That’s not the point of all of this!” The room grew darker, as if someone started to lower the dimmer on the wall. Their throat felt tight. A lie. “I’m mad that you’re here. That you’re fucking with my—” They paused with index finger just unfurled and pointed at her, accusing and angry in their body language. This was familiar. Dīs took a step back. This was too familiar.

Their eyes darted over her human-like face, searching quickly, anxiously, as if they could make out what she looked like beneath the glamour. They could have ended it, told her to leave or be removed from the premises, but the knot in the pit of their stomach refused to keep the question off of their tongue.

“We’ve met before… Haven’t we?”

—

They were right — she didn’t want to understand. Cass, for all her obsession with what people thought of her, wasn’t often the best at seeing points of view outside her own. She was good at uncovering what would make people like her, was good at figuring out what they wanted her to be and becoming it, but beyond that? People perplexed her more often than not. Fae doubly so. She couldn’t look at the one in front of her now and puzzle out what they wanted her to be, couldn’t satisfy them without dissatisfying everyone on the casino floor below. It was give and take, it was choose your battles. Cass was bad at that. She didn’t want to be liked by most people — she needed to be liked by everyone. Her self worth was so tied into how others thought of her that she had no idea how to like herself if even one person didn’t. It was an impossible thing to strive for. She didn’t know how to abandon it.

“So just charge them more for that stuff. I don’t — Why does it matter? Why does any of it matter? They come here to have fun, and they were having fun. How can that be the wrong thing?” She was frustrated, unraveling. Someone was upset with her, and she was bad at dealing with that, bad at accepting it. 

She understood less and less as they went on. How could anyone not care whether or not people liked them? The very concept was unfathomable to Cass, who cared so much that it filled her with such an unquenchable ache. If a tree fell in the forest and there was no one there to hear it, it didn’t make a sound. If no one was looking at her, she didn’t exist. “Why? Why are you mad at me? I didn’t do anything. I was helping.” There was a desperation to her tone, a plea, almost. She didn’t want to understand, but she didn’t want to be disliked for that lack of understanding.

Their question caught her off guard. She’d been so distracted by the feeling of eruption building in her chest that she hadn’t noticed the dimming lights or the growing darkness. She searched their face, trying to pinpoint the familiarity she’d felt from the moment they’d approached her, but it was hard to do. Fae, with their glamours raised, were so hard to recognize by their true forms. “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know if we have. What do you really look like?”

—

She didn’t understand. How would she? How could she? She didn’t know them and they didn’t need her to. They didn’t want her to. Not when she was acting like this. They reminded her too much of their siblings, of their brothers and sisters who picked and prodded and argued over every little thing. But that was because they thought that Dīs was too different, too strange to be able to dodge their disgust. They had an oread father, but that shouldn’t have mattered. They were still a lampade. But it did — it mattered to the rest of them. And then they had the nerve to question why they spent their time alone or why they collected the garbage that they did.

Dīs had to take a slow, deep breath to steady themself. She was not their family. She was not responsible for their trauma — but she walked into their space as if it were okay, without invitation, without even a word to them. They didn’t like that. They had to deal with that too much and yet it still followed them.

“It matters because it’s mine.” They wanted to pull their antlers out. “Because I don’t have anyt–” Their voice cut short, their mouth incapable of moving any further with their feelings. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. That pent up energy balled into their hands, curling their fingers into fists and flexing them to anxiously release it. This was not on their agenda today. Nor was revealing any part of their true self, but it was the only way to get a definitive answer to their gut familiarity. Her question gave them pause despite them being the one to initiate the new thread of curiosity; it at least helped to dissuade a potential explosion.

Without a word, they lifted a darkening hand until it drew in light, absorbing it, leaving nothing but the absence of it. An eternal shadow, shaped into a forearm and hand, smaller than their true size, but that was what they looked like, more or less. “And what are you?”

—

There was something there. She could see it. In their anger, in the things they said, but more importantly, in the things they didn’t. They cut themself off mid-sentence, and Cass felt her brow furrow, felt the question forming on her forehead. I don’t have anything, it seemed they were going to say. Was there more that would have come after? They had this, this building filled with people who kept coming back. For Cass, it seemed a magical thing; all she had ever wanted, really, was a place where people were and would return to. Shouldn’t that make someone happy? How could anyone be upset when they had people all around them? It seemed an impossible thing to someone like Cass, who had only ever wanted to be something other than alone. 

She watched as the person in front of her lifted a hand, watched the light disappear around the limb. And she thought back to months ago, in the cave. She thought of the giant, massive fae, the one who made her feel small in more ways than one when they intruded on her territory, when they made her feel like something that was hers — the only thing that was hers — shouldn’t have been. Was this the same fae now? They felt so familiar that it seemed likely.

She held up a hand all her own, let her glamour fall. Skin gave way to stone, with magma bubbling beneath it. “You were in the cave,” she commented. “A little while ago. Weren’t you?” 

—

Now it made sense. Why she was so adamant about everyone having a good time, wanting them all to stay — she was that lone oread they had met before, the one they accused of encroaching on their space. And here she was doing it again. 

Dīs felt their chest grow tight. Why them? Did that cretin at the beginning of the year actually curse them? Was this some sort of comeuppance created by the abnormality? Or was she really just as alone as she seemed to be? It was difficult for them to believe in the words of other fae, even if they all were made to speak the truth, there was always some sort of trickery about. She seemed earnest, desperate even, and there was a small yearn to connect despite their growing gnaw of distrust and the innate desire to protect their property. 

Was she lonely like them?

They dropped their hand, letting the glamour flow back over them defensively. There was no use in playing coy, not when they both knew at this point. “I was - yes. What- why did you come here? Are you following me?” There was a bristle in their words, a wary tone, but their questions were largely curious. “Why here?” Though she stood by her words and her will obstinately and with great resolution, why did she choose the casino to mess about? Was she targeting them? Was this just a sense of familiarity? Part of them wanted to converse, at least, amicably. 

Part of them wanted to throw her out.

—

They seemed… unsteady, all of the sudden. Like the ground beneath their feet was wrong. Cass used to think she’d never be able to relate to something like that, because the ground was solid. The Earth was the only thing that had ever been reliable, the only thing she’d been able to count on all her life. But that had changed so starkly when Rhett sunk that knife into her shoulder, when his grip broke her arm and bruised her throat. The ground was solid but sometimes, the person standing on it wasn’t. Sometimes she wasn’t. And, maybe… Maybe sometimes they weren’t, either. 

Their hand dropped, the glamour coming back. She let her own glamour come back up in response, let tan skin replace the stony surface. “I didn’t follow you. I didn’t even know you worked here, I just –” Why had she come here? What was she after? Most of the time, even Cass herself had no idea. She wanted to fill the empty parts of her, but she had nothing that fit into the hollow spaces. Nothing was right, nothing was the way it should have been. She didn’t know how to fix it.

“It looked like fun,” she settled on, unsure if it was a lie or not. Her stomach churned like it was one, but what did her stomach know? “It looked like people were having fun, and I — I wanted that. I wanted to be here, where — where everyone else was. I wanted to be —” Wanted. That was what it all came down to, in the end, wasn’t it? She wanted to be desirable and, for a moment, she had been. 

But not now. Not here, in this office. Not with this other nymph looking at her the same way the ones back in Hawai’i always had — like she was a problem no one knew how to solve. She shrunk in on herself a little, looking away. “I’ll leave,” she said, “and I won’t come back again. I’m sorry I messed everything up.” Wasn’t that what she’d always done?

—

Certain memories clung to the mind like ink to cloth, staining it. Feelings from those memories also had a tendency to linger and arise at the most inconvenient of times. Dīs wanted to continue to be angry with her, but the turn in conversation and her astounding dejection struck a familiar, and painful, nerve in them. It was like staring back into a mirror, except she stood where they had once, where they still sort of still felt rooted in.

And this time, they were the one doing the shunning. Not their family. Them. Is this what they wanted? To keep themself in the isolation they were put into? 

Fae were capricious, at best - and devastating at their worst - but after their forced ejection from the comforting and constant darkness that they called home, Dīs found some comfort in the other nymphs that made Wicked’s Rest their home. Perhaps Cass deserved a chance, even if her encroaching on something that was still so raw to them set their frustration ablaze.

This was probably a bad idea. Dīs inhaled deeply and shut their eyes tightly for a brief second, as if they were still trying to talk himself out of what they were about to say. “You didn’t mess… everything… up,” they returned stiffly; that was the closest to a compliment she was going to get from them. At least right then. The lampade paused.

“If,” they lifted an index finger; they were not relaxed at all, “you can suppress your need to lure my employees into geas,” they exhaled, but continued, “I might… be able… to find you another table to have… fun at. Something that is not so high stakes so we don’t run into any problems.”

Dīs pressed their lips together. “If you really want to stay, that is. You can leave otherwise.”

—

Comfort wasn’t a thing she expected. Even now, with all the friends she’d made in this town and the family she’d built for herself, it was rarely something she believed she’d received. After all, she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life existing in a way that was only ever transactional. No one was good unless they wanted something from you; no one helped you unless they needed you to help them back. Cass still found herself thinking that way sometimes, still found herself wondering what Metzli would ask of her, or Ariadne, or anyone. Because surely no one could like her for her, could they? Surely no one could see her as she was and think her worth having, even for a moment. 

But the nymph offered her comfort anyway. They told her she hadn’t messed everything up, even if it wasn’t really true. She’d caused problems in their place of business, and they didn’t owe her anything but they were giving her something anyway. That wasn’t the way the world worked. Didn’t they know? That wasn’t how life had been before.

Except… that was how life was now, wasn’t it? Metzli, Ariadne, Milo, Wynne, Van, Nora — her friends all loved her for free. Without expectation, without cost. And this nymph was offering her something, too, not because she’d earned it but because they wanted to. Cass felt a grin spreading across her features, her eyes getting big with her excitement.

“Really? Do—” She cut herself off, mouth snapping shut. Do you promise, she’d almost asked, just as instinct. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” she said. “I can do that. I can — Can not bind anyone. And I’ll be good at it! I know I will be. I won’t cause any problems, I won’t. I want to stay. I’d really like to stay.”

—

Yes, this was definitely going to be a bad idea, but it was a chance they were willing to take. Maybe if they made nice there could be a better arrangement regarding their… living situation. Something that benefited them more. 

For now, though, they needed to navigate whatever this was, so they pressed their palms into their hips as they listened to her excitement bubble with hope and promise, a trust thrown into the darkness like a silver fishing line, keen to catch even the smallest of fish. They’d already made themself known, in the deep, so there was really no other option but to take it and hope they could drag her below instead of being pulled to shore to be gutted.

Again.

“Alright,” they answered her plea and, with a single movement, plucked a dark folder off of their desk. There were a few open positions within; some already had interviews lined up and others had been empty for far too long. A single sheet was procured and handed over to Cass. Roulette was a fun game and the table had its own corner, opposite the bar. The majority of people that tended to frequent it weren’t hotel guests and they only showed up for a day or two. Hardly worth the trouble. They didn’t think it would be much of an issue, but maybe they had too much hope there would be no speed bumps.

“You can start today since you seem to have the time. Elizabeth will train you, but the table will be yours once you’re more…. Comfortable with our procedures. The game itself is not too difficult to understand and you will have plenty of people to do with what you will. Bind them, love them, I don’t care — but don’t touch the employees. They are bound enough, as is.”

—

There was a quiet sense of elation overtaking her as she took the paper offered, reading it over. She didn’t know much about roulette, but it looked fun. And it didn’t matter much if it wasn’t, because she’d be in a position where she got to spend her days talking to customers and celebrating with them when they won. That was all she really wanted, anyway. She beamed, shining brightly as she bounced on her heels. 

“Okay,” she nodded, looking like an entirely different person than the desperate girl who’d been begging for a second chance mere moments before. “I’ll be good at it.” It wasn’t a promise, but it was a guarantee. Cass was a quick learner — quicker still when there was someone she wanted to impress. And, in spite of everything, she did want to impress the nymph in front of her now. She wanted them to like her the same way she wanted everyone to like her.

And maybe she wanted to play with people a little, too.

Binding strangers felt good, even when she knew it shouldn’t. And a near-unlimited number of them being handed to her wasn’t something she could pass up. Leaving the employees alone would be easy enough so long as the customers were hers to enjoy. “You got it, boss.” She forced a serious expression and a salute, though it didn’t last long before she was letting out a squeal of delight. Unable to stop herself, she launched across the table to give the other nymph a quick hug. “I’m going to go find Elizabeth and get started right now! I won’t let you down!”

[singdreamchild]

TIMING: Christmas Night LOCATION: Cassius's house PARTIES: Cassius (@singdreamchild), Richard, Inge (@nightmaretist), Dis (@disinfernus), Zofia (@zofiawithaz) & Lukas (@lukas-dark-miracles) SUMMARY: The group of undead (and extremely old fae) get together for Christmas! CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

It had been Inge’s idea initially. Cassius had gone and visited her (with candy, as per her request), and she had the idea to have a gathering. The vampire suggested hosting, seeing as she was still mending, and he finally had a house to throw get-togethers at. When he had told Richard of the plan, the elder vampire was none too pleased. Still, he eventually relented when Cassius told him that it would be full of people who mattered to him and knew about Richard. “No hiding in the basement,” he had told his sire.

So that’s where the pair found themselves decking out the old Victorian house head to toe in Christmas decor. Cassius hadn’t gotten around to putting his spin on the house (namely, painting everything black and purple), but the old house had enough charm to it that it didn’t matter. Cassius gave Richard a pointed look when the doorbell rang and said, “Don’t disappear. These people have wanted to meet you.” 

Richard rolled his red eyes and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” He replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. The elder vampire’s features were twisted to look more batlike than human, which made him feel self-conscious. “Behave.” Cassius insisted in an exasperated voice as he hurried to open the door. 

Inge wasn’t much of a fan of Christmas, generally speaking. It reminded her of things long gone and aches not yet properly mended, but with her body still in pain and her usual ability to partake in shenanigans significantly limited, she figured she should do something. And it was funny, because there was actually something to do. A small group of people to gather together to have the most ungodly Christmas with.

She was still in pain, her movement still limited. It’d be a few months, Zane had said, and she wasn’t pleased about the constant reminder of her shortcomings. But she had ample distraction, and Dīs on her side. She was impressed by the Christmas decor, amused by Cassius’ dedication to the craft and rang the bell merrily.

Merrily, as in a piece of performance art. As in, she still wanted to cry and rage and throttle Siobhan and Rhett both. As in, she missed those same things long gone. When Cassius opened the door she smiled brightly and wiggled a bottle that read merlot. “I brought a gift!” It didn’t contain merlot. It contained blood. This was the time to be charitable, after all. “And also this bottle of wine.” She moved inside, a small twinge of pain marking her features and looked around with a look of surprised awe. “Damn.”

___________

It seemed Zofia’s social life was a concern to a host of undead. 

Inge had invited her to a little holiday get together. Then, later, Cassius had invited her to the very same party being hosted at his house. She had been amused to say the least. She had no intention to attend, of course. It was very kind of them all to be so very concerned, but frankly she wasn’t feeling particularly festive. 

She had fully intended on sitting alone and adjusting to silence again, when she received one final invitation. Richard, of all people had decided to extend the invitation. She wasn’t entirely sure why the invitation had given her pause. But for some reason  she had found herself getting wine and a little poinsettia plant, and heading over to  Cassius’s. 

The door opened and her mouth quirked up into an attempt at a smile “. Wesołych Świąt, Cassius “ she said, holding up the gifts. She breezed into the space and took in the faces around her. It was strange to not offer embraces in greeting, but she wasn’t sure it would be appreciated. “Hello kochanie,” she waved to Inge, and then her eyes fell on a familiar figure with golden eyes. “You. I know you.”

———-

Lukas was pretty happy to get out of his own house, his Sire’s apparent willingness to let him only raise a few alarm bells in his head. After all, it felt nice to do something lightly normal even if he was fairly sure that he was about to have a rough time of it. She seemed to be amused for being alone on a holiday, and that usually meant she had something in store for him. 

A bottle of Whiskey in his hand he gave a small smile to Cassius before nodding to Richard. “Ah I believe I’m the last - apologies. Inge - Dīs - it’s nice to see you. ” He didn’t comment that Lizzie had been chuckling at him, and how he was sure something bad was about to happen and that’s why he was late. After all, it was just as likely that she was doing so on purpose. He also didn’t make his way next to Cassius quite yet, wanting to be sociable. 

To the only person he didn’t know he outstretched his hand to shake hers, “I’m sorry I’m not sure I’ve met you. I’m Lukas.” 

———-

Christmas wasn’t something that the lampade, or their family, celebrated - nor any holiday, really, save for birthdays and accomplishments are various kinds, so when they were invited by Inge to go with her to a little festive gathering of friends, Dīs thought: why not? They liked Inge, would have liked Cassius more had it not been for the unwarranted snacking, and Lukas — Lukas was unusual but not unpleasantly so. They nodded to him in response, offering a placid, yet amicable smile.

It was just nice to be included for a change, even if they didn’t care for the decorations.

Among the familiar faces, there was one that they had never seen before and one they didn’t think they’d see again so soon. At least, not in this capacity. They hung back, assuming that the older and clearly vampiric figure would be introduced by the host, so Dīs directed their attention to Zofia once she and Lukas became acquainted. “And I know you,” they agreed, a little amused by the circumstances. “Apparently, this town is deceptively small.”

Cassius watched as everyone said their hellos, suddenly realizing there was a reason he didn’t host any occasions. It’s because he was bad at it. He wanted to hide in a corner and wait for the gathering to start itself. But, of course, this didn’t happen. Sensing his nervousness, Richard strode up alongside the vampire and gave a welcoming smile (or as welcoming a smile as a batlike creature of the night could look, anyway). “I am Richard, for those of you who have not met me, which is, well, all of you. He gave a glance over to Zofia and winked. “Except you.” The man’s voice was deep and velvety, contrasting the monstrous face he wore.

Cassius swallowed, a sudden discomfort building as he let his sire take over. Why did he always let him take over? His gaze fell to the floor as he let his sire speak. It was weird to suddenly take on that submissive role that he always took as soon as Richard had put himself in the forefront. Cassius always told himself it was because Richard knew what he was doing and was more experienced in life. But a part of him was telling him that it wasn’t exactly the case. 

Cassius took a deep breath and forced himself to look up to his guests again, feeling Richard’s piercing gaze. “Food and drinks are set up in the kitchen, which is down the hall to the left, and the tree and chairs are set up in the living room, which is to the right.” He gave a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was a clear attempt. Richard’s presence made his skin itch. Why did it make him so damn uncomfortable? He watched as Lukas introduced himself to Zofia and nearly froze. He had never told Lukas her name, had he? Sensing the young vampire’s fear, Richard placed a hand on Cassius’s shoulder before walking toward the living room. “Let it be,” the elder vampire insisted as he made himself scarce.

The only face Inge did not recognize had to be that of Richard, that big bad in Cassius’ life that she had grown to detest and grown to be intrigued by. “I’m Inge,” she said, purposefully not going for her full name. She glanced at Cassius, who seemed almost like a puppy at the feet of its owner and redirected her gaze to his sire. “It’s great to meet you after all the stories I’ve heard. Spare a moment for me tonight so we may get to know each other properly?” 

Her gaze was considerably warmer as it fell on Zofia, giving her a smile, “Hi lief,” she said, giving Lukas an equally warm smile in greeting. Her eyes flicked between the female vampire and Dīs, wondering how they’d met. “Well, there’s a story there …” She was intrigued, a bit excited that the two of them were familiar. Jealousy didn’t arise. She had no need for such things.

Inge considered their options. “Should we get a small bite, then, and gather in the living room?” She moved towards the left, not with the usual skip to her step. She had no need for this either, the ache that spread from her waist to her legs. She half considered moving by astral — she could here, after all. “You guys –” this was to all the vampires in the room, “– should really try this wine. It’s locally sourced and though it’s not a vintage …” She smiled. “It’s supposed to be a good year. ‘93 if I’m correct?” 

____________

Zofia’s mouth tugged up into a small smile, and amusement glimmered in her usually cloudy eyes as the other vampire introduced himself. They certainly hadn’t met, but she knew who Lukas was. She’d watched him and Cassius when she’d first come back to town and her mind was worse for wear. She’d also become familiar with the name through his sire. And if Elzbieta Kowalska was his sire… “Lukas. Hello, kuzynie.” She said with a bad. “I’m Zofia.” She wondered if Lizzie had said anything. It was more likely than not though that the mad old vampire had neglected to inform Lukas of her, for her own entertainment. 

Her gaze drifted back to the only fae in the room, the small smile still hanging tentatively on her face. “Decidedly so. Lovely to see you again, Dīs.” Then her eyes found Cassius looking… stressed? He had invited her, was her presence really that alarming? Zofia was mostly in control of her own mind that day, and holiday festivities weren’t likely to send her spiraling off the deep end. She rolled her eyes as the elder vampire shot her a wink, but the smile on her face tugged a bit wider. She’d by no means consider Richard a friend. But he certainly wasn’t her enemy any longer. Not if he held out his hand to help. 

Zofia let out a small laugh at Inge’s interest. “We met under… interesting circumstances. Our goals were similarly aligned.” Cassius probably wouldn’t want talk of vengeful murder and fae sparked madness at his holiday party. The vampire smirked as Inge described the contents of the wine bottle. “What region is it from?”

__________

Lukas blinked, not quite knowing why he was someone's cousin, but took it a little in stride not wanting to make it more complicated. Then it hit him on why that might be the case, he asked with a bit of a laugh , “Znasz więc Elżbietę? - Because you don’t look a little like my mom or dad’s side. In anycase, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Zofia.”  It was a small world after all, and part of him wanted to run out the door as he spoke, scared that his Sire would be there in a moment, and not wanting to appear too stressed. He couldn’t look at it after all. 

Still, his eyes followed Cassius’s and he paused something feeling off. Part of him wanted to go to him, but he didn’t want to intrude on him and Richard’s space knowing how much he was nervous around his own Sire.  So as Inge went to move he nodded and said, “Of course. It’s also lovely to finally meet you, Richard.” Moving to go to the room he said, “Excellent. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Whiskey. It was pretty standard in my family. I’m afraid I picked up the habit.” Glancing at Inge, he wondered briefly why she seemed to be straining, although thought better than to bring it up. 

 __________

When the stranger finally introduced himself, the energy seemed to shift. Not just from the guests, from the host, as well. There was a mixture of uneasiness and intrigue, both of which Dīs felt equally, but it was thwarted momentarily when Cassius took back the reins and explained the setup. They watched as Richard stalked off towards the living room; Inge's desire to know him better did leave an acrid taste, but they did their best to ignore it.

They were glad for the change in conversation, though intrigued as to why Zofia chose to leave out any details really about their impromptu interrogation. Was this not the time for such talk? There was more of a curiosity than disappointment, a want to understand. "Interesting is certainly one way to describe it. But I am glad they were, otherwise this conversation would be much different," — if they made it out in one piece, at all. If their collision with the vampire had soured because she chose not to show the grace she did that night, Dīs couldn't be certain that they'd escape the encounter unscathed.

"I'll explain more later," they directed to Inge, happy to share even the smallest of victories. "I think you may enjoy hearing it."

Drinks sparked the turn of attention. While blood wasn't exactly a drink of choice for the lampade, the whiskey would have to do. "There are worse habits to have," Dīs assured Lukas as their glass was filled. They stole a sip before continuing, "how have your meetings been? Are you still having them?" After their brief and awkward, yet enlightening conversation, they didn't really bother with keeping tabs on the community meetings.

 __________

Richard stopped in his tracks as Inge introduced herself. Yes, Cassius had mentioned her since his arrival. Cassius for his part, shot Inge a warning glare before turning his attention to his sire, who nodded toward Inge. “Lovely to meet you, Inge. I will not be hiding this evening, so you are sure to find me.” Richard’s gaze then fluttered over to Lukas, and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t know what to take of this new one, and he wasn’t so sure if he were to be trusted. After all, he knew his sire. And with that, the elder vampire disappeared into the living room, doing his best to hid the only way he could with the expectation from Cassius that he would be on his best behavior and socializing. He used to be so good at it, but not it made his skin crawl. What was he turning into? 

Cassius seemed to relax the second Richard disappeared, a soft sigh and a fake smile plastered onto his features as he looked to Inge and her bottle of so-called wine. “Yes, I’m sure it’s… great.” Cassius shook his head, unable to get himself back into the groove of things. There was something to be said about two of your exes and your current love being under the same roof. Maybe he was crazy for allowing such things to occur, but all three of them were genuinely important to him. 

The blonde’s gaze flitted back and forth between Zofia and Lukas’s exchange, a curiosity surging through him as she claimed to be family to him. Then, Cassius listened as Dis spoke of Lukas and his meetings. What meetings? A confused frown crossed his face as he looked over to Lukas. Instead of asking outright, he filed the question away for later. “Inge, Lukas, feel free to place them on the island in the kitchen. Presents go in the living room under the tree.” It was suddenly too much, so many people all knowing the most private things in his life. No, he had to get himself under control. So after taking a deep breath, Cassius turned to follow his sire to the living room. 

She flashed Cassius’ sire a bright smile that didn’t hide the mischief behind it. She’d been bored, restricted during her day hours and wallowing in self-pity/self-hatred. Pulling at the seams of an elderly vampire would be a welcome addition to what promised to be an interesting evening. Inge nodded at Cassius. “It’s glorious. I mean, so I was told — I haven’t tried it myself. I’ll be having regular wine.” To Zofia: “It’s local, of course.”

A small look was given to Dīs, one of excitement to see what they had to tell her, but she was off to the kitchen. Walk stiff, but back straight: Inge knew that if there were people to not hide her pain in front of it might be these people, but she still had her pride. Plopping the bottle of blood on the counter, she wondered if she should pop it open to let it ‘breathe’ or if that wasn’t a thing with blood. “Lukas, do you decant this? And I’d love a bit of whiskey.” She took an empty glass, sliding it towards him as she worked on picking out some food. Best to reconvene in the living room, she figured.

With enough to satiate her non-existent hunger for human food, she made her way over there, glad to sit down on a chair. The pain from her abdomen and lower back strained down to her legs but at least there was no more pressure. “This is much better than the crypt.”

_______

So you know Elżbietę? Zofia’s mouth curled into a smile at that. “My aunt. However distant a relation she may be.” What were a few hundred years to blood relations, after all? 

The smile widened as Dīs insinuated Inge would enjoy listening to the tale of their murderous evening. The hunter had without a doubt deserved it. And based on Inge’s recent encounters with hunters, it would likely be nice to imagine the face of the one who had done her harm on the other’s body. “A local vintage?” Zofia laughed softly. “Those fine ‘vineyards’ of Wickeds Rest will be delightful, I’m sure.”

She perched herself in a corner and watched as the others continued to interact.

———

The others' proclamation that she was his Sire’s niece only stilled him for a second before he shook his head slightly in amusement. “That would explain why she was excited for me to come.” Lukas didn’t mention that he was nervous now, his hands clutching at the bottle a little too firmly for protection. Still he went to open it, keeping the nerves off his face and the odd looks from Richard out of his mind. 

At the question Lukas chuckled and said, “Yes, I am still doing community outreach. They are going very well.  You are welcome back if you’d like.” He didn’t think the other would want to go back, but still the offer was always there. Pouring out the whiskey for both of the other two he shrugged lightly and said, “For a wine? Usually you would for a Red I believe. There you go.” 

———

Aside from the riveting tale about the death of that young hunter, there was plenty that Dīs wanted to speak to Inge about �� mostly ask, if she was privy and willing to indulge their curiosity — but for the moment, they would enjoy her presence, even if she seemed keen on learning about the elder vampire. Truthfully, they couldn’t blame her. His introversion was interest piquing.

They caught a little of the back and forth between Lukas and Zofia, but they were more concerned with the vampires in the other room — and the whiskey in their glass. They stole another sip as their fingers picked at a few of the food items made available, though they felt just a hair uncomfortable with the knowledge that they were the only one that needed anything on their plate to survive, that they technically were a meal fit enough for the rest of them. It was an interesting position to be in, to feel like prey among predators, as awkward as they all seemed to be.

“Are they still being held on the same days? I’m afraid I haven’t kept track of the schedule,” they returned to Lukas after finding a rather lonesome seat with a leg crossed over the other and back straight. Dīs was surprised that he was even allowed back after the discomfort of their first meeting, that the offer was even being made to begin with. Regardless whether or not it was a genuine offer mattered not, they might have to take him up on it. If only to satiate their ‘nosiness’.

—

Cassius flitted about the kitchen, pulling out glasses for the various drinks. As he came upon the bottle of ‘wine,’ he shot a look at Inge before opening it up and pouring himself a glass. He made eye contact with Richard at that moment, then took a sip. Richard didn’t let anything show, but his monstrous face finally changed from monstrous to human. One of his many abilities that the older vampires could pull off, letting him blend in among them. Instead of batlike features, he looked just like anyone else. An older man with a hint of a beard and blue eyes instead of red.

Cassius smirked at the taste of the wine, his eyes glowing a brilliant red, proving to everyone that it was, indeed, blood. “Inge has always been good with picking out a good red.” He noted before moving to sit on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. He listened to the various conversations, from Lukas hosting meetings to Inge’s comment. He snorted into his wine glass, shaking his head. “Much roomier than it too,” he shot back with a laugh. “I wonder how Mrs. Lindamann is doing.” He wondered, referring to the woman who actually was laid to rest in the crypt. “Oh well, I’m sure she’s glad I’m gone.”

The blonde’s gaze flitted over to Richard, who seemed content to be sitting in the other corner of the room that Zofia didn’t already occupy. Two well-adjusted vampires cooped up in the darkest corners of the room. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Lukas, who was pouring whiskey and speaking of his community outreach. Cassius didn’t know too much, it hadn’t come up in conversation organically, so for now, he simply listened to know more.  In truth, Cassius hadn’t celebrated a Christmas properly in over a century. And it was finally in Wicked’s Rest of all places that he finally had established a family of his own that was worth celebrating with. Surrounded by people he cared about, the blond vampire for once finally relaxed. He was content.

[totally-not-a-dod-agent]

Heh, it's much nicer here, even with the crystals of death.

Me neither. It's not like they're radioactive or whatever.

Oh, that's absolutely disgusting fancy. Are you fancy?

That's quite the timing. I suppose we could make it work. My schedule is basically 9 to 5 though.

Mermaids are manatees? People believe that?

It sounds [...] quiet. How are you adjusting?

Quite. It's true, though I don't understand it. I don't know how crystals could have that sort of an effect on someone. Part of me is tempt

In a way. I own the Elysium Hotel and Casino.

Of course. I did see that the local tour is closing its doors, so if we're serious in any way there is [...] a very small window. No, of course not. I'm speaking more about the cryptid variety, like how mermaids are manatees.

[mortemoppetere]

WICKED'S REST RP as SCI FI

( featuring: @bountyhaunter, @alan-duarte, @deathsplaything, @nicsalazar, @disinfernus, @howdy-cowpoke, & @mayihaveyournameplease )

[dirtwatchman]

PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @disinfernus TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Two people are up to nefarious business. One chickens out and runs into the other who, as always, keeps their cool. A deal is struck but deals don't mean exemptions from a fae's natural impulses. CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, allusion to domestic abuse tw

“A simple address and I will be gone. You won’t see me again. A simple address and I can make all of this… stop.” That wasn’t a lie. While the shadow nymph could lie, there was always some sort of repercussion that fit the size of the lie. There was no wince to be found, no headache that throbbed or stomachache that threatened their dinner. But without that address, the knife that had buried itself so deeply into the man’s gut would only go further and twist tighter. There was a refusal and a curse through the pain; they were brothers, after all. There was no way any of them could give up family to a stranger. 

The middle-aged man, peppered at the temples and in beard, groaned when Dīs gave another twist. With that address, he could live, but a too big heart got in the way. All they wanted were some answers — that was it. “You’re the one who put that knife there when you tried to attack me with it. This isn’t my fault,” their hand went to their chest, offense in fabrication only. Without that address, things would end with more bloodshed and a corpse on the ground. And that lead would be severed. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get much further when they suddenly felt someone else’s eyes on them.

Business like this was conducted under the guise of darkness and usually in nondescript locations, usually when everyone else was already tucked away in their beds. There was an unusual amount of nocturnal in Wicked’s Rest, but truthfully, they thought they did a good job at choosing somewhere with less foot traffic. Apparently they were wrong.

Dīs turned away from their suspect in a way that concealed most of the damage done to his abdomen, but still used their power to strengthen the shadow between them. They did hope that this was just some lowly and boring human, otherwise the smell of blood could be a monkey wrench in the illusion. They nodded politely to the stranger as they passed, hoping dearly that nothing seemed amiss to them — aside from the blanching of the man’s skin and blood upon the ground.

In all the time that Caleb had been thinking of doing the unthinkable he found it so fascinating that his mind had not yet gone to the one person that deserved death more than any other. That day with Gael, the day he had rushed away from the man who seemed so concerned, the zombie had spotted someone from his past and knew in his heart that the man needed to be a life that he snuffed out, a life that was owed to Caleb and Caleb alone. But with that realization came another. He didn’t have the nerve. After following Gary that day and reliving the past trauma the man had put him through, it was discovered that he couldn’t even show the older man his face. It was the most disappointing, soul crushing event that had happened to him recently. 

So, instead Caleb followed. For days now he’d been following his foster dad through the street’s of Wicked’s Rest, getting quite good at ducking behind walls or lowering his head behind a newspaper to keep from being detected. It was satisfying, watching Gary getting more and more paranoid as the days went on, and so Caleb kept aggravating that paranoia even further. A small noise near an alley, a chuckle that reverberated off the walls of the close buildings, all small tricks he had picked up from movies. It was so nice to watch the slow mental decline in his foster father that Caleb was slightly worried about his own mental state and how much he was…enjoying this game of cat and mouse. 

Until the tables turned. It wasn’t as fun after losing the man in a crowd that had come out of a closing bar and the paranoia decided to transfer from fake father to fake son. Had Gary spotted him? Was Caleb about to be hunted down and thrown right back to his twelve year old state where he couldn’t fight back? That man had an iron grip in the form of fear locked around Caleb like a snake coiling around its prey and the panic sent him fleeing.

He was in a seemingly deserted alley leaning against a brick wall, his head slamming back into it as the force of his body connected. It took several minutes for Caleb to calm his nerves only for him to notice a couple of people who seemed…not in great spirits a ways down the alley. A deserted alley that wasn’t so deserted was never a good sign. All he had to do was pass though, his lips pursing into what he hoped was a smile though it was so tight that he knew it couldn’t possibly resemble one. The zombie placed his hands in his pockets and started to move to get past them.

Even with his poor eyesight, Caleb could clearly see that the ground was wet beneath one of the men and nowhere else. Either the man had messed himself after drinking too much or…well, he didn’t want to think of any other alternatives. He had every intention to keep walking but his dead heart still seemed to beat in some metaphorical way. Two steps away from them, he slowly turned to face the one who had nodded as he passed. “Um, are you both okay? Because…it doesn’t seem like it...” His eyes went to the one on the ground as the words trailed off, the sallow skin a dead giveaway that something was amiss. ‘All you had to do was keep walking…’ “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Why them? Why did it feel like every time they had someone on the ropes, someone had to come in and ruin it? Where were all of these good samaritans even coming from anyway? The tall fae mentally cursed the stranger and hoped that their position was enough to keep anything too incriminating from view. Naturally, the wetness of the blood that had pooled between them was noticeable by the toe of Dīs’ shoe.

They tried not to show their irritation with being interrupted on their face, they really did. It was probably inevitable, at this point, considering how close they were with, hopefully, getting an answer. There wasn’t much hope, with how reluctant their victim seemed to be, but maybe with a bit more prodding and twisting, something would come to light. Now with this audience member, however, they weren’t sure if they’d get the chance.

“Yes,” “N-no..” “We’re fine, we appreciate it.” Their voices overlapped a tick and Dīs drifted their gaze to the man who currently sheathed their knife in order for him to get the hint that he really needed to keep his mouth. “Ple..” “We’re just.. Having a bit of fun.”

This didn’t look like fun. The man on his knees was almost whimpering, not able to get out his answers as the other person spoke over him. The wetness on the ground, the fear Caleb could now see…no this wasn’t fun for at least one of them. Why he felt the need to continue interfering was beyond him and yet the zombie took another step towards the two. “He doesn’t seem okay though.” Blue eyes went to the ground and Caleb took in that wet spot again, dark but with the little bit of light that was coming into the alley he could see a red hue this time. Shit.

“Maybe we should call for an ambulance?” His eyes lifted to the person that was standing, an urgency now appearing in them. Giving the person an opportunity to come back from this, it was more than most people got in this town. Then again, Caleb had no clue who or what this person was and he was most likely making a grave mistake of his own. His only advantage was they didn’t know what he was either. 

He looked at the man on the ground again, they’re eyes meeting, and he wondered if he’d done anything for this to happen or if he’d just been an unlucky victim. Then it occurred to him that it shouldn’t have mattered, right? Caleb’s thoughts were starting to mold themselves around his reasonings for his own chosen victims…or victim at this point, and it was a little scary. “I think he’s hurt.”

Dīs tensed their jaw. They felt a tingling just at the edges of their eyes, the burn from their light that wanted nothing more than to escape the magic of the glamour and bare itself into the man before them. But there were still too many passersby, too many opportunities for someone or something to see their most successful disappearing act.

They had to do something.

“He is hurt,” they admitted. The truthful angle could work, if they used the right cards and pulled on the right heartstrings. If this young man was eager to help someone out, maybe the shadow nymph could turn that compassion towards themself. “But he deserves it. He killed my family.” Their previous facade of playfulness melted away into a tone of vengeance laced with grief. 

“N-n.. No.”

“No. I’m not too keen on calling an ambulance for him.”

The story was compelling, that was for sure, but was it true? Trust was hard to come by and when you come into a situation where someone has one leg up over another already it was hard to believe anyone who said it was at the fault of the person on the ground. But then something in Caleb told him that he could be in this situation someday himself, that someone could come across him stalking the man who had tormented him his whole life or even trying to get rid of him, and if they didn’t believe the zombie when he told the tale then he would be screwed. Or maybe he just wanted a reason to believe this person. He wanted a reason to tell himself that hurting someone else could be justified. 

After all, it’s what he’d been trying to work up the nerve for himself. It was most likely the wrong move though he found himself not backing down, but not without another question.

“Are you going to kill him?” The nerves that had been coursing through him were only getting worse but he needed to know for multiple reasons. Caleb didn’t want to help with the murder if that was what was coming but the clean up? Yea, he could be a part of that purely for selfish reasons. If this was inevitable, which it seemed like it was, there was no reason to waste the meal that could come out of it. “I might…have a deal for you if you do.”

“A deal?” The man suddenly started squirming, objecting to being killed. Dīs had no idea who this inquisitive stranger was or why he would want to make a deal after the deed had been done (usually people liked to make a deal in favor of the other person’s life, not against it), but they would be lying if they weren’t interested. 

One of their hands went up to cover their victim’s face, muffling him, but not silencing him completely. “No. Shut up,” the lampade commanded, though they didn’t take their eyes off of the brunette before them. “What kind of deal?” Death left the limp body - its bones, organs and tendons and blood. Is that what he wanted? The corpse afterward?

Truthfully, it mattered not to Dīs what became of the body, as long as they were able to get the information before his last breath. That’s the only thing they cared about.

The protest of the man whose fate seemed sealed had his stomach sinking so low. Why was he doing this? The man was bleeding but not dead yet and it seemed Caleb had been the last factor to his impending doom. It didn’t feel good. He was already starting to regret the words he’d previously spoken but he had to push forward or he could meet the same fate…not that a stab to the gut would do much to him. It could certainly send him after another though and cause more pain to unsuspecting victims. 

Looking up from the victim’s covered mouth to the person standing over him, Caleb stood his ground. The underlying anxiety would have been so much worse had his heart been able to beat as fast as it probably wanted to. It became one of those rare moments where he was glad he was dead or else his body would betray him. “My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.” 

There it was. If this person had any inkling of what went on in this town, knew anything about the undead, Caleb had just revealed exactly what he was to them. Why was it so much easier to tell a complete stranger what he was and not the people who cared for him? Probably because this stranger was in a predicament of their own. He briefly glanced to the man on the ground, seeing the fear in his eyes grow, and looked back at the other before the zombie could change his mind. “What do you say?”

“My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.” 

There were probably a plethora of uses for a human brain, more than any that Dīs could procure, but their most immediate thought led them down the undead route. More specifically, the zombie kind. Now, they weren’t about to play a rousing game of Twenty Questions with someone who was so willing to take the body off of their hands once they were done with it. Why ruin a good thing with questions? But this seemed to be in line with their assumption and what limited knowledge they were going on.

The nymph regarded the other man for a quiet moment — as quiet as it could be with the human man’s muffled sounds of pain and disagreement. He started to fade, quickly, which left them with little time to get the answers they needed. They needed to get better at where they stick the knife or how long they hold their stare for. They needed to fine tune their interrogation skills as it seemed they’d just ruined another one.

Dīs then looked to their captive with a rather listless expression. “I think that’s up to him,” they started and raised a brow. “What do you think? Address or would you rather go with our new friend?” A spat of blood was their only answer, despite the obvious fear that reeked off of him. What a waste. Was all of this as dead of an end as it seemed? With a sudden and twisted thrust of the knife that was already embedded in the man’s body, he was dead. A few sputteres escaped his open and bloodied mouth, but that was it.

The knife was pulled and held gingerly while the now corpse dropped to the ground and uttered its last remaining heartbeats. A disgruntled sort of sound escaped the nymph; they were disappointed, to say the least, and it showed on their face. “There, take it. I’m sure you will find more use for it than I could.” The blade was then wiped on a black handkerchief and stowed back into an inner pocket in their long robes. They then gave pause and turned their gold eyes to the young man who so graciously offered their… help. Or hunger — it mattered not to them.

“How might I find you, if I have more?”

‘Just give them what they want.’ It was like Caleb was trying to put the thought into the other man’s mind, the phrase repeating over and over while he stared down at him. But the efforts were lost, the man only spitting out the contents of his mouth in their direction, and he knew right then what was about to happen.

Knowing didn’t stop the flinch of his body as the stranger sunk the knife deeper, his eyes closing but the unmistakable gurgle of someone’s last breath thick with blood still filled the air. His heart sunk so low that time that it felt like it had left his body altogether, the void of not feeling only there for a split second before it all came rushing back again. He wished it had stayed gone, wished he had stayed numb to it all. Instead, when his eyes opened at the sound of the thud on the ground, Caleb’s chest started to ache at the sight in front of him. 

Something told him that the callous way the person spoke of him afterwards meant he wasn’t getting much more of this story. It would have made him feel better to know if the tale of this man killing the other’s family was true. He assumed it wasn’t since an address was the object of their desire before. That didn’t seem like something a person full of grief needed unless they were going after others.

Others. Caleb swiftly looked up at the word ‘more’ with shock that probably should not have made an appearance. What made him think this would be the last of this person’s transgressions? It was said so nonchalantly, like they were making a business deal, which the zombie surmised was exactly what they were doing. “How many others are you planning on killing?” It was the wrong question and he knew it as soon as he’d said it. Did it matter? Not really, not when they were already implicated together. What was another body? Besides, wasn’t he doing this same thing with Anita? 

Maybe…maybe this was the business venture he needed.

“You know what? I don’t need to know that.” He shook his head, looking back at the body on the ground while knowing he didn’t have too much time before rigor mortis started to set in and it would be even harder to move. He didn’t want to give them the funeral home’s business card, that would unnecessarily put people he loved in danger, so instead Caleb pulled out a random rewards card to an insignificant shop from his wallet. The pen was in the dead man’s front shirt pocket but he only hesitated for a moment before he was pulling it out and writing his cell number for the other. “You can reach me here if you have more.” When. He should have said when. He knew how this went. “I’m available…most of the time. What was your name?”

They were glad that he quashed his own curiosity, though they weren’t abashed enough to tell him to mind his own business if the question still stood. Dīs wasn’t ashamed of what they did, not in the slightest, but they weren’t going to have a full blown discussion about their plans with someone they’d just met, even if they both seemed to share similarly questionable morals. This wasn’t the place for it, anyway — it was much too public despite their shroud darkening the area. Maybe one day, if their nefarious no good deed were to ever cross paths with four walls and no wandering eyes. But until then, a made deal was enough to trust him with their leftovers.

It wasn’t like they were going to do anything with the bodies, anyway — these corpses weren’t special, they weren’t sought after. They were all killers, in their eyes, and they didn’t deserve a place among the decaying remains or jewels that littered their old, decrepit home. At least the nymph’s scraps would go to use elsewhere.

Dīs turned the piece of thin cardstock between their fingers and read over the phone number once before sliding it into a pocket. The rewards card was inconsequential, a throwaway, like the corpse before them. The nymph would save the number and the card would find its way to the bottom of a garbage bin. “Most of the time? I will leave my voice messages vague, then, if need be.” They stepped around the body to give the young man room to do whatever it was he was going to do. It would make sense to take the bounty home and then to take care of it, but they couldn’t exactly blame him if any… urges… became overwhelming.

“It is Dīs. That is what you may call me,” they answered coolly and smoothed out a wrinkle in one of their sleeves. There was always the opportunity, especially with people they’d never met before — gratitudes and greetings were plenty and easy to procure. The nymph could practically feel the inkling and goading of magic; a want, almost like an obsession, that tempted them to take and take and take. “And you? May I have your name?” 

Deals did not mean exemptions. But that’s only if the fineprint went unread.

“Yea, I do have actual jobs too.” He hadn’t meant for the words to sound harsh but for some reason that was how they came out. As many dead bodies as he’d seen, as well as the few murders he’d already committed, it was completely different to watch someone else do it intentionally, to see them take that light from a person. He’d always thought the worst part of seeing someone die was watching that life drain from them. It wasn’t the before or the after that bothered him but the moment when the before became the after, that one second where everything went dark. He’d closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it this time but Caleb’s mind was still replaying its own version back to him over and over which was unnerving to say the least. “Maybe just, say a location, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll forget your voice.”

Dīs. A name for the face of his newest client, the face of someone he hoped he didn’t have to see kill another again. The after was where Caleb belonged, where he hoped to stay, and if this were to become his new business venture he really hoped that the after could become his new home.  “Of course, yea…” Hopefully this time his voice didn’t portray how shaken he was, his hand reaching out to shake that of the killer’s before him. “It’s Caleb.” Not realizing what it was that he had just done, the zombie turned back to the body and tried to think of the best way to start this clean up. His truck was a couple of blocks away, he’d have to move it closer to the alley, possibly back it in if he could. All the possibilities were whirring inside his brain while oblivious to the fact that he’d just given Dīs more than a new business agreement.

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: Recent, immediately following this PARTIES: Dīs @disinfernus & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: An abandoned soap factory SUMMARY: Inge is stuck on a wall and calls Dīs for back up. They show and the pair is confronted with something new: vulnerability. CONTENT WARNINGS: None, but it's a little gorey.

They had all left. Siobhan included, leaving her hanging – literally – after having threatened her with some form of poetic justice. Inge was reeling from it, her anger so useless that it had soon been replaced with desperation. After a few failed attempts at getting herself off the sword (slicing open her hands in the process), she gave up and wept. Eventually she'd reached for her coat pocket, her body sliding across the sword and the gash growing wider. She'd scrolled through her contacts, wanting none of them to see her like this — bleeding, with mascara tracks down her cheeks and her failure on clear display. In the end, she'd asked for the person she wanted most. Dīs.

The phone call had been chaotic, her story a jumbled mess of anger and a final, small request: “Please come get me.” She'd sent her location and since then, she'd waited.

Not patiently. Head resting against the wall, eyes on that stupid lollipop that had dropped from her grasp when Emilio had crashed into the scene. The pain radiated continuously and without mercy, her body incapable of passing out even if her glittery blood continued to pour from her. No mercy for the woman who could not die or pass out — just an endless stretch of cold pain in her abdomen. 

There was a sound. Inge would have held her breath if she was still mortal, but instead she just said some words to a god she no longer prayed to. And there they were — a sight that made something in her crack. Inge heaved a sob, “Take it out. Take it – take it out. Just — please.”

—

Manat had just lapped up a piece of butter laden potato from their index finger when Dīs got the phone call. She could hear the elevated tone through the speaker, hear the urgency in the woman’s voice and the confused yet appalled expression on the fae’s face. There was an interest in what was going on the moment her source of warmth was removed from under her and the shadow nymph stood with a quickness that rivaled a young snicker-snacker trying to escape her claws. 

That is, until she realized that the plate they had been feasting from fell to the carpeted floor below and relinquished the skinned, baked potato that egged Manat to happily consume in full.

Dīs in turn ignored the plate and its subsequent mess, and made a quiet beeline from their office, through the casino floor and out the building. Their thoughts during the trek didn’t do the sight before them, when they did finally make it to Inge, any justice. They didn’t expect what they saw. Maybe they should have. Maybe they wouldn’t have hesitated the way that they did, with their hands stiff by their side despite the curling and nervous twitching of their long fingers. Their breath caught in their throat when they saw the gruesome sight, saw the glittering of thick, dark blood strewn about her feet and on her clothes and her hands and everywhere. And a sword, imbedded deep within her and the wall behind.

Their hesitation came for only a second as they assessed the situation, but it felt like they stood and stared at her for hours. Her desperation settled deep and heavy in their gut; it made them nervous, but it also prompted them into action.

“I will, I will, ” they promised in a soothing, yet absolutely perturbed tone. One of their hands lifted to quickly caress her cheek in comfort, and also to steady themself, but it didn’t take them long for their gaze to drop back to the sword sticking out of her body, as it was quite difficult to ignore.

There was an uncertainty in how to start, in where to start, and it was evident in their eyes despite the seriousness of their expression. She was undead, they couldn’t kill her anymore than she was already — but they could hurt her. They didn’t want that. But what other option was there? Their shadows were useless here. Using the end of their robe for leverage against the blood, they gingerly gripped the sword’s hilt. Dīs’ silent gaze met hers, as if to ask if she were ready, before giving the weapon one good pull.

Nothing happened.

—

She had tried to be enraged. Had tried to cling to that feeling of fury that she was deserving of. Siobhan had left her out to dry and perhaps worse, had let go of two hunters who posed serious problems in this town. This should have ended with two corpses on the factory floor, one disfigured and one having died a quick death, with Inge and the banshee wondering aloud what kind of drink they’d have to celebrate their victory. But in stead it had ended here, with a hunter’s blood stain on the floor and she stuck.

She deserved to be enraged and she had been for a while, shouting for a Siobhan who had gone. But anger was only good when it was fuel and so it was gone now, had left quite some time ago. The anger would not lessen the pain. The anger would not distract her from it if she had nowhere to put it. And so this was left: the tear tracks and the glitter and the continued sharpness of the blade. 

And God, it was painful. There was no way to put into art how much it hurt. How limited her body was and yet how unlimited — how she could probably stay here for years and remain largely unchanged. Her face still fine and her hands still young, her legs still nimble and arms still capable of creation. She would not bleed out and even if she did, she would remain. Not to decay, but to be still.

But Dīs was there. They had come. They pressed a hand against her cheek and there was a tremble that Inge met with a trembling gaze of her own. She thanked God for the invention of cellphones, dreaded to think what might have happened if this had happened a few decades back. “You came,” she croaked. I’m sorry. Her apology would come later, if at all, but it existed. That she dragged them into this kind of mess, rather than the fun type. That they had to see her in such an ugly light.

Dīs was trying to keep the blood that wasn’t blood in her body, that astral substance that she barely understood. “It’s fine,” she said, “It will come back to me.” When she returned to that other plane of existence, the one that felt safer and where she was her proper self — where her body was not this limited, so easily rendered useless. She had asked Sanne once why they still felt pain, what the point of it was if their bodies only appeared human but were anything but. Sanne hadn’t known. She still didn’t know. There was no purpose to this kind of pain.

She watched Dīs reach for the sword and watched them tug and she braced herself for naught. Nothing happened. There was not even a shock of movement, a little nudge that seared into her side. “Harder,” she said. “Do what you have to. It’s okay. It’s okay, the blood — it’s not like — just do it, just get it out.”

—

You came. “I couldn’t leave you here.” 

Had they not grown so close to her those past few months, they might not have. They didn’t want to think about their past shortcomings or their failings as a leader, but seeing Ingeborg in such a state forced them to face it head on. They remembered a moment like this, remembered the wild, terrified look in the other fae’s eyes and all the blood that seeped out of them. They remembered the absolute heartbreak on their face when Dīs had made the decision to flee instead of help. 

The memory made their hands tremble, but their fast attachment to her willed them to fight through it. They didn’t want to lose her — at least, not because of their own cowardice. 

It didn’t help that they felt somewhat responsible. They may have not been involved in the slightest and Inge was wholly capable of choosing her own paths — they would never deny her that — but they couldn’t help but to feel that their desire for revenge had been pushed too much onto her, that they somehow goaded her into fighting back and going for the kill instead of wanting peace and making her art. They didn’t like the bout of guilt they felt because of it.

That guilt, though, and her reassurance, gave Dīs a breath of confidence to try again. The hand on her cheek was removed and placed against the wall behind her with palm flat for leverage. Removing the sword from her corpse would, should, be easy — the wall? If that lack of movement meant anything, then not so much. With her okay and a steady breath, they tightened their grip and gave it another college try, this time really pulling with a small wiggle, even, hoping to dislodge the metal from the wall. Though their glamour may have reflected a healthy and somewhat athletic individual, their actual form was best served to hide and to obstruct, not for strength. 

Another failure. Another disappointment. 

Dīs was frustrated, dejected even, but that was nothing compared to whatever she probably felt. “It won’t — it’s not moving.” They stole a quick glance all around them, looking for something, anything, that might help until they noticed the vaulted ceilings. Their attention had been solely on Inge, not on the immense room that they were in. It gave them an idea. “I have something else to try—”

With their hand still on the hilt, their human form became mottled with splotches of shadow until their skin turned completely black. Their body also stretched and grew without pain, elongating into something lithe, wispy, with hints of thinned opacity at their edges. Their antlers were gone — shed and dropped some weeks ago so they didn’t need to worry about them brushing against the ceiling. But it made them horribly self-conscious, regardless. Their round, golden orbs for eyes, endless in their blinding light, were kept shut tight. They didn’t want to accidentally catch Inge in their rays — not again.

Blind, but immensely taller, the sword felt so much less intimidating now.

—

There had been a hunter who’d used this kind of thing to his advantage once. It was after Sanne had died, in those first furious years of carelessness and indulgence — Inge moving from place to place because there was always inevitably a slayer licking at her heels. This must have been in Switzerland, when she’d carried the name Nika Beinhacker and had accrued international fame that by now ceased to be. That slayer had pressed salt in the wounds and slipped knives into her body and had asked her how she liked such torment, because her victims liked hers probably just as much.

She’d gotten out and licked her wounds by herself and gone on to a different country with a different name and a few more scars. There had been no one to leave her anywhere because there had been no one to come — but things were different now. 

Dīs had come, even if the sight and situation were ugly, even if it might have been easier for them to look away. They had come and were trying to pull out the sword. She didn’t want to think of the alternative, of sliding off that sword and ripping herself in near-twos (something that could one day become inspiration for an art piece, surely), she just wanted them to succeed. She just wanted their arms around her, a bed with clean sheets and no sword in her abdomen. She wanted a drink.

As the sword wiggled she hissed, her eyes slanting up and tears of pain jumping into them. It was for naught. The sword remained and so did she. She wondered if Cortez would come back to finish the job. 

“Just keep trying,” she whined, her voice ugly and pitiful. Inge was in no state to worry about it, but she did distantly. What would they think of her? What did they make of this? Of her? Tear-streaked and helpless, no longer that vicious thing she had been when repeatedly entering Rhett’s mind to play around with his nightmares. Ugly, even — this wasn’t desirable. This was weakness, on display. 

But they gave no suggestion of disgust or disappointment, were trying in a way that seemed determined. In a way that suggested that perhaps she deserved it. She watched them fade into the shape they truly were, the one she’d only seen whenever they’d fallen asleep in a bed they shared. Something beautiful and ominous, something of nightmares and dark evenings. Dīs kept their eyes closed, because they knew by now that those glowing orbs were enough to stun her — but Inge longed to be able to look at them.

They were twice as large now, towering over her with that great dark statue of a body and she braced herself. “Do it.” It had to work. It had to work. She didn’t want to call another to see her like this. She didn’t want to slide herself off the sword and undo half of herself. It had to work. Her voice sounded strained as she repeated herself: “Do it.”

—

It had to come out now. That may have been their confidence talking, but Dīs really felt like they could get the weapon out now that they had height on their side. Third time’s the charm — or so people liked to say. They weren’t sure what else they would do, though, if it didn’t work, but they supposed they had to keep trying anyway. What good was living a long life if you didn’t learn from your mistakes? So they had to stay and see this through, one way or another. Running wasn’t an option anymore. They did have the time to give, after all; Inge was worth that.

Though they couldn’t see her, her determination to be rid of the thorn in her gut was palpable. Determined and desperate. It fueled them to try again, despite the sounds of her pain. Just a moment and it would be over — that was the hope. They fixed their grip on the now comically small sword in their hand; their fingers overlapped slightly around the blade, cutting them, but that didn’t matter right now. They wouldn’t be happy about it, but they would heal. Inge had the worst of it.

With the green light, Dīs started again. Because pulling straight out worked so great last time, they tried to wiggle the tip of the sword out from the metal wall. It was wedged in there deeply by a strength that the nymph would never possess, but after a few too long moments of resistance and small cuts to the inside of her body, there was give. And it kept giving, until that resistance seemed to release suddenly, like the pop of pressure from a balloon. Because they hadn’t expected it, the sword was pulled from her faster than what they would have liked, slicing through her abdomen until it was clean out the way it came.

The nymph staggered back from the continued momentum, but regained themself, realizing that Inge was free. They dropped the bloodied sword and as it clambered to the factory floor, they wordlessly started to shrink and disappear from their shadowed form so they could once again see her — and the blade’s aftermath.

—

They were doing what was needed. While Dīs closing their eyes was a gesture of care and concern, the rest of what needed to be done would seem opposite. But it had to be done. The sword had to be moved to be pulled out, the damage increased in order for her to be released from her place to the wall. There was a metaphor there, but Inge cared little for them in the moment — all she cared about was keeping her wails of pain to a minimum as not to make Dīs stop, as to not make them worry, as to not have them perceive her as weak.

But it hurt. Left, right, left right — the sword moved more and more and while every bit of movement was good news it was accompanied with a cut in that strange body of hers. She was again now, against better judgment, trying to just get through it with her jaws clenched. And then it gave. It rushed out of her, a slash of cold metal through her undead abdomen. It was quick, in the end.

Her legs gave. What pitiful things. Inge slipped onto her knees and clutched her abdomen, putting pressure against the gash. She wanted to disappear, to move into the astral where she had no proper bodily form, where she wasn’t shedding glitter everywhere. If it wasn’t for Dīs, she might have, but in stead she slowly looked up and watched them return to their usual form. 

“Thank you,” she exhaled. Her lungs didn’t work but there was still that relief in her voice, that breathy quality to her voice. Inge tried to push herself up, leaving glittery handprints on the stone floor as she groaned. “I thought —” She shook her head, grit her teeth. “We should go. Did you drive? We should go.” She wanted away from here. From the pool of Rhett’s blood on the ground. From the mark of the sword in the wall. She clutched her side, whimpered, “Take the sword.”

—

It was just for a moment. Just one long, agonizing moment. It wouldn’t last, it couldn’t. And it didn’t. For Dīs, small passages of time went by in a blink, but it felt like so long already since they had first arrived, since they had first set their eyes on the mess Inge had managed to get herself into. She was lucky she was already dead. Things would have gone horribly if not and truthfully, they didn’t think they would be able to forgive themself if they did.

For now, they ignored the start of a spiraling thought, kept their mouth pursed but expression softer, as they moved with an affection that most would find uncharacteristic to help Inge from her spot on the wet, dingy floor. Her ‘thank you’ sent a jolt through them and for half a second, they mentally paused while they slipped an arm beneath her own to ease her up. Their skin seemed to vibrate with the temptation. “You’re welcome… But please don’t do that again.” There was the faint whiff of a beg in their tone, one they didn’t even notice — to think of her getting into some sort of trouble made them feel… Uncomfortable.

"I — no, I did not. I don’t own a vehicle, they’re — I can call for one. Where do you want to go, caelesta?” It would be quick, easy, and a necessary evil to get Inge the help that she needed. They looked at her hand that pressed against the fresh, oozing wound. Desperately needed, they surmised. Her want of the sword was not unusual; a trophy, of sorts, one that symbolized her survival — her victory. At least, that’s how Dīs framed it. They couldn’t be sure how Inge felt about the whole thing, other than furious.

They wrapped a hand around the hilt of the sword and picked it up; it felt a bit heavier now that they were smaller, but at least it was out of her. At least the worst of it was over. “You’re intending to keep this?”

—

She realized it only now, what she had done. Those two innocent words, so easily spilled especially to someone you carried gratitude for — she looked up at Dīs when she heard his tone. “I won’t,” she said. But she couldn’t have said I appreciate you dragging that sword from my undead body or that was nice of you to do that, now could she have? She rested some of her weight against them, glad for the support that was a body and not a sword.

Inge wondered how Dīs had come here, but figured they must have their own particular way of travel. She had hers, after all. “To yours,” she said, worried about her own place. Who knew how tightly knit these hunters were. Who knew if someone would come knocking at her door, her address slipped to them by that useless Owen. “I’ll — I’ll go by astral, alright? It’s fastest.” It was least painful. No dragging her feet, no laying in a car driven by someone she didn’t trust while spilling non-blood on the cushions. No earthly body to be limited by. 

She gave a glance to the sword, some intricate and pretty thing. Not quite her style, but she’d be damned if she left it behind. It was hers by right. No way that Cortez would get it back now. She’d hang it somewhere in her house, another bit of proof of her continued survival, her stubborn refusal to die. “Yes. The person it belonged to is not deserving.” 

Perhaps it was reckless. Petty, that was for certain. But Inge was not above pettiness and she was furious, so it would have to do. “Can I meet you there, at yours? It will — it would be better for me to travel through the astral.” She wanted to remain close to Dīs, yes, but she wanted gone from here. “And then you can stay with the shadows.” Untraceable, both of them. It was a gift she didn’t intend on wasting. 

—

I won’t. This might have been easier to deal with, emotionally, if they had locked her into a word bind like their very being willed them to do, but to think back on their own family for doing similar things to them — that would have its own repercussions, ones that Dīs couldn’t give to their kin because they were, well, all dead. They knew what control could do. They wanted it, craved it, but not to Inge. They couldn’t. They hoped they could believe her, but in Wicked’s Rest, there was no shortage of things looking to kill you. No shortage of death.

They offered her hand a squeeze in response, themself thankful for the understanding — at least. A small smile followed suit, just at the thought of her traveling through the astral plane. She truly was a wonder, wasn’t she? “Alright. I think you will beat me there, though.” The shadows were… effective, in their own way, but there were restrictions. They needed a clear path, an expansive and connective line of shadow to pass through. 

Dīs knew the sword was going to add a level of difficulty. It was going to be… obvious in certain places. The shadows acted merely as a blanket and as devoid of light as they could make it, it wouldn’t be perfect. Part of them would have to remain solid in order for this to work. “No. No they don’t,” they agreed, relishing in her decision. They had left the sword there, after all — why not keep it? Payment for their stupidity and cowardice. 

“Of course you can. Go.” Please. While they held the sword, their free hand graced the underside of her chin and thumb pad ran along the bottom edge of her bottom lip. “I’ll be right behind you.”

—

The contact was warm and grounding and Inge found a kind of certainty in it that she had been unsure of before. She was not a sight worth seeing now, and there were more ugly things in the room. Drying blood. The proof that something better unsaid had gone down here. And though she wasn’t sure what Dīs and her were or what she wanted them to be — she knew that they wouldn’t look at her differently for it now.

With concern, perhaps. With a wish for her not to be hurt again, too. With the softness of their hand on hers and then on her face. Inge didn’t have the energy to search for the meanings within it all and perhaps it wasn’t something that had to be done in the first place. Maybe these things could just be and she could accept them when hurt. “I’ll certainly beat you,” she said, voice a little hoarse, “But I’ll wait.”

She pressed a hand against their chin, the stubble familiar under her fingers. They were mirror images for a moment, holding the other’s face. And though she was ripped open, though the pain was making it hard for her to stand on her two legs, she felt safe.

“Alright,” she said, “Alright. I’ll see you soon.” Inge dropped her hand from their face and waited for them to let her go too, her body finally untethered from all earthly ties. She looked at them for one last time and then went into the astral, where there was no gash in her body, where she could look down at Dīs and make sure they would be okay too.

[recoveringdreamer]

Yeah! They've got all kinds of stuff there. Probably some metal. Thanks! I'm sure I can find some good stuff. You know, for the rabbits.

I don't think eating trash hurts anybody. I mean, it's better when there's less garbage, right? The town is [...] cleaner. With the trash rabbits.

Oh, the Pile [user has a moment like The Office and stares at something off screen] I'm sure that will have plenty of scrap. I bid you good luck in your [...] cleaning efforts, then.

While this is true they don't need to eat anyone out of their literal home [..] or trash. That would be too irresponsible. There is a balance that needs to be upheld.

[wonder-in-wings]

'Objects in the Mirror...' || Dīs, Parker

TIMING: Sometime in July LOCATION: Natural History Museum PARTIES: Dīs (@disinfernus and Parker (@wonder-in-wings SUMMARY: ‘...Are closer than they appear.’ Dīs goes to the Natural History Museum where they encounter the unnatural Parker. The two are similar, yet different and they talk about their respective interests and collections. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Keeping to what they knew was what Dīs did best, but every so often they were drawn out of the comfort of their shadowed hole and thrust into the middle of human social interaction. That day it came in the form of crowds surrounding a new insect display at the local museum. The museum had always been there, of course, but there had never been enough hum or drum for them to simply allow their curiosity to take the reins.

The energy within the building was alight — there were plenty of children and their sounds of excitement or disgust at the pinned arthropods echoed around the display. They flitted between adults and nearly ran into Dīs, who only tried to get a closer look at a detailed array of butterflies. Their brief moment of disdain must have been noticed as they could feel a pair of eyes linger on their person; it was only the wrinkle of their nose and maybe a grimace, but could they be blamed? — Another day at the museum, another day of astute observation and answering the occasional question for Parker as this was the singular place in public that he felt comfortable in his explanations and rather confident, if still a little stand-offish, with where he was. He learned a while back that he probably should’ve had a job that dealt with the public, if only because he wasn’t going to get what he wanted if he hid in a hole all day or haunted his condo while he took advantage of the racket he involved himself in previously. That wasn’t to say it was tempting sometimes, as Parker didn’t quite enjoy the buzzing of children and their noises as much as he could’ve given his own interest in the field he served. The good news was that with insects, it was slightly more niche than something like dinosaur bones or the renaissance art that sat in the art exhibits of other museums. No, the reason why he worked with the public, uncomfortable though it was sometimes, was for instances like the one Parker found himself in today. The warden felt something rippling under his skin, almost as though the iron in his blood was turning itself over like a line of dominos. It was psychosomatic, of course, or he assumed it had to be since he didn’t actually have dominos under his skin but he’d experienced that sensation increasingly since his smart decision to move to Wicked’s Rest. There was a fae there. And while Parker wasn’t one to make assumptions based on physical appearance - your style was your own, even if it was stupid - this rippling feeling helped him narrow down who it was and as luck would have it, it was the tall individual who looked ready to make an appearance at a funeral. He didn’t react immediately - he had also since learned that causing a scene wasn’t preferable to any parties involved - but he was driven by an intense curiosity and it naturally carried him across the room, stopping only long enough to answer a passing question or direct someone to the place they needed to go. Soon enough, he was standing near the individual and though he wasn’t confrontational yet, he did have a habit of staring. “Are you enjoying the exhibit?” Parker asked the shadow-clad stranger, instinctively turning his head so his good ear was ready for any incoming answer. — Dīs was aware they looked largely out of place, both in style and height, but they paid no mind to the drive-bys that came from the other patrons’ eyes. Not until one of them broke their silence and engaged them, likely in the hopes of starting a conversation. There was a tinge of contentment when they noted their company was just about eye-level, a happy surprise given how many of the townsfolk were vertically challenged. But then again, everyone was vertically challenged in their opinion. It came with the territory.

They had to wonder if this person caught a whiff of their expression of distaste at the rambunctious children that paid little to no mind to the beautiful displays set before them. Probably. They didn’t try to hide it. Dīs tore their attention away from the specimen they were eyeing the moment the question escaped the other man. They took note of the museum badge before their eyes met with the inquisitive, and beautiful, pair. 

“I am, yes,” they returned with a pleasant enough smile before chasing away the momentary pause with a slight shrug. “Well, as much as I am able to.” As if on cue, a toddler erupted into a bark of a screech. The sound was curt, but piercing. Dīs refrained from rolling their eyes. “Is it yours, then? It’s very well put together.” — The Warden had to maintain his professionalism. He couldn’t slip up again, not during that time of day and not when there were so many people around as noted by the sharp cry of a toddler and though he didn’t physically react like holding a hand over his other ear, his brow did furrow with the unpleasant sensation, his mouth thinning. Parker understood the stranger’s sentiment oftentimes - he needed to get away from the museum eventually, to open his own galleria where he could bar the entry of children 12 and under. He had art and kids didn’t get it. “It is.” Parker replied, still feeling his blood rippling under his skin and while he didn’t look away from the stranger, their eyes locking but with no indication that he was afraid, he did force himself to take a small step away. He wasn’t afraid, and this fae was none the wiser about what he was. “There’s something inherently satisfying about admiring a collection.” He said, motioning to the displays. “Even if it’s not appreciated by most.” Parker removed his eyes from the dark stranger and looked forward now. “Is there anything you collect?” He asked keenly, the movement of his blood easing up ever-so-slightly as he willed it to calm down; he knew a fae was standing before him, there was nothing he could do about it at present so the sooner he got comfortable, the better though his mind started buzzing with the singular question he desired to know above all others - what do you look like? —

There had been a number of different prospects and ideas when it came to Dīs’ plan to grow their subterranean and undead kingdom. A few seemed to genuinely have potential — a carnival and a haunted house tour were at the top, but there was one thing that helped them to make a decision: families. Families were messy and large and tended to come with small, germ infested children who were loud and touched everything. That made the decision to settle on a casino and hotel hybrid. Sure, there was the occasional parent and older kid, or a couple with a toddler or two, but the casino on the first floor tended to deter a lot of them. If they wanted family friendly, they should have gone to Florida for their vacation instead.

Most people in the museum didn’t seem to get the memo, but most people were probably locals, anyway. That didn’t stop Dīs from wishing there was a natural child deterrent as well, but alas — they couldn’t have it all. They had this conversation, on the other hand, which was a good distraction from the voices that echoed around them. “I feel their appreciation is more valuable when there’s not much of it. But that may be just me.”

“I do, yes,” they replied; there was a tint of eagerness in their tone that was likely noticed. There were not many whom Dīs had the pleasure of swapping collection stories with. Most of their family, though as obsessive as they were in their own right, couldn’t understand the youngest lampade’s affinity for things. “I collect antiques, which is incredibly broad, I know, but my collection is made up of a bit of everything really. Books, silverware, paintings — as long as it’s over one hundred years old, I want it.”

—

“I agree.” The Warden said in response to the first statement - if he had his way, there would be no children ever. No children, no animals, just adults and their appreciation for beauty, even if it was nonstandard. They weren’t here to entertain their mutual disdain for children, though, as Parker’s blood still rippled underneath his skin and he asked the fae if they liked collecting as well. When they replied that they did, their voice taking a tone that indicated that it was something they were passionate about or at least proud of, Parker took a deep, steady breath as he listened keenly. His brother once suggested that he try to expand his hobbies, noting the Warden’s array of talents that he could’ve pursued that he simply opted not to in favor of his insects, swimming, anatomy. ‘You could sing on Broadway’, his brother said, lightly nudging him. ‘You know mom would love that. Plus, I bet there’s a bunch of fae in New York; I mean, c’mon. It’s New York’. What a waste of time. He supposed there was value to antiques, even if Parker himself couldn’t appreciate the sentiment in the same way the fae did, but regardless of where that spark of collection came from, the Warden tried to understand the perspective. That being said, he was still standing before a fae– no, not entirely correct. A fae - nymph, the more he felt his blood protesting despite his command to calm it - was standing before him. “Antiques. Such a broad umbrella, as described yourself, surely never wanes or finds itself bored.” He remarked. “Obviously, I collect insects on a surface level.” It was his turn, turning to look back at the displays with his own level of admiration in his eyes. “But I find a particular beauty in wings.” Parker said, his own tone drawing breath, a sense of longing and reverence in his otherwise flat tone. “The vestigial limbs that serve no purpose, are just there to make a statement and showcase one’s pride. A status symbol. I’m still missing a few, though I’m far from picky; there’s always room for more.” He looked sideways at the stranger, his steely gaze unblinking. “Do you have wings?”

—

It was always nice to meet someone even slightly like minded, even if the conversation stayed at surface level. There really was no intention of going deeper, not unless something else painted itself interest piquing. Their insect collection was beautiful and expansive, sure, but lots of people collected things. There was nothing inherently special about that. 

For Dīs though, it was important. Not special, no, but it kept them company when no other fae wanted to deal with their unusual behavior. Clingy, annoying, too much — lost trinkets and rotting corpses never complained like they all did. The jewels glittered and glistened, bodies numerous and silent, their own little kingdom of death and wealth. Their family couldn’t understand it, they tolerated it, but their distance only served to fuel the collection further.

“Well, now, I would have to disagree,” Dīs continued, their brow now furrowed. “Wings serve a multitude of purposes from protection, mating and the most obvious — flight. I really do not think a honey bee would do very well without their wings, do you? I don’t think the flowers would, either. But that’s an extreme.”

The question itself wasn’t particularly jarring, but there was something about the way the curator looked at them that caused a frown and a deep worry to settle in their body. “A few, but nothing that you don’t have here already. I don’t really collect insects, though.” Dīs sniffed. “They were gifts.”

After a beat, they asked: “Do you have a favorite pair?”

—

A soft inhale through an arrow-straight nose. Either the fae was playing stupid, as they all tended to do when they thought they were in control of an interaction with someone as ‘simple’ as a human, or Parker had been too subtle in his line of questioning. He wondered how often it was a little bit of both. “No no, you’re right. Wings do serve a purpose… for insects.” He exhaled and folded his arms in front of him as he tilted his head slightly to stare into the middle distance, not focusing on anything. “Favorite pair?” He repeated the question, letting it linger in the air for a long moment before he nodded his head ever-so-slightly. Did he? Parker had a handful to choose from, finding intense fascination and beauty in all of them but after the silence in which the collector sorted through his options, he chose one; of course he did, the thought that he wouldn’t choose these suddenly made ridiculous. 

“I was incredibly fortunate to receive a pair from one that was a morpho menelaus - the Blue Morpho species.” He began to explain and it was his turn for there to mark the beginnings of a softness, a gentle reverence as he described them. “Usually, you can tell the difference in male and female patterns but this one was affected by gynandromorphism - the wings have the markings of both male and female cells. “So they’re blue morpho, but they have a beautiful weaving of the aquamarine from the male and the brown spots of the female.” Parker’s eyes seemed to light up, all but forgetting for a fraction of a moment where he was or what he was talking to. 

“I’d never met an entomid with wings like that before. I likely won’t ever again.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Truly one of a kind. They’re with my mother, hanging on her wall.”

—

For now, nothing seemed too amiss about the conversation other than the curator’s own unusual air and surprisingly narrow-minded opinion on insect wings. For someone who claimed to work so closely with them, you’d think they would know of their importance. They very well served quite the purpose for insects, yes Dīs was glad for the agreement, but the man’s tone felt off.

Dīs wasn’t entirely sure if they were just sensitive or not considering the clusters of crowd that danced around their fixed point in the room. That creeping feeling didn’t last, and it gave way to something else as his company spoke on about his favorite pair of wings. The twinkle of admiration, maybe even adoration, was a familiar one to catch in the other man’s eye. It was refreshing to see.

Until it felt off again. Entomid. Entomid. The little hairs all over their glamour stood on end, causing their skin to prickle with goosebumps. Why would he just give himself up like that? To even the playing field? Was there an ace up his sleeve? Dīs kept their expression as placid, though seemingly interested in the story, as possible.

“That’s quite a beautiful gift, I’m sure your mother appreciates them.” Dīs lifted a brow and turned from the framed insects to eye the man beside them. “What happened to the morpho? Were they already dead?”

Or did you kill them? 

—

He felt the eyes of the fae on him and instinctively, as though activating for fight-or-flight mode upon the gaze, the blood in his veins churned in a particularly strong pulse. Just once, but enough to serve as a steady reminder that the stranger wasn’t human. Not that Parker had since forgotten; he wasn’t stupid. “Dead? No.” He shook his head faintly, his brow furrowing slightly at the implication. “Well… it might be dead now. I’m not sure; it was a few years ago. It was alive before and after I harvested its wings, though.” Parker explained. “I don’t prefer to kill and I don’t like getting into fights; they often lessen the quality of the specimen.” He looked the fae in the eye again, unwavering, his stare icy and while he hadn’t, one might’ve been mistaken for thinking the Warden had somehow gained the ability to see through the veil of a fae glamour. And as one got to know someone like Parker, maybe they’d even wonder which individual that ability would be more detrimental to. “As I said, vestigial limbs. Status symbols.” His gaze flickered up to just above the fae’s head, briefly dancing in the empty space where he knew a set of horns or plantlike antlers would be if the nymph possessed them. His eyes then darted back down to look just past the gothic stranger, where a set of wings would typically rest. “That’s the thing with collecting though, as I’m sure you know.” He mused. “I never know what I want, what I didn’t realize I wanted, until I see it.” It was a blanket statement and if the fae wasn’t dumb, they’d know what he meant. “Are you similar?”

—

“So you maim them, then?” Dīs uttered a curt laugh through their barely parted lips. This one was a strange one. It wasn’t unlike looking into a mirror, if the mirror were warped and found in a funhouse. “I find keeping specimens whole preserves their beauty. Breaking them seems… unnecessary and wasteful.”

Warden. That’s what they were called, wasn’t it? Hunter, to be nondescript, but Warden was the preferred nomenclature. It was the word that circled their brain the moment he’d revealed his hand. But why? To gloat? Or was this a distraction? The grand reveal could mean a lot of things, too many for Dīs to pinpoint a single reason, but as fun as the game was, they didn’t want to be stuck in it forever — or meet whatever end that poor entomid had.

“Let’s agree to disagree then.” Clearly they wouldn’t change his mind, not that they really wanted to, but his obstinate nature and clear, yet downplayed, obsession with mutilating fae, especially those of the insect variety given the evidence, incited an eagerness to add him to their own collection. Now that would be quite the challenge.

“I am, yes,” Dīs spoke truthfully and smiled knowingly. “Very much so. Most of the time I won’t know what I want until it practically walks up to me. I’ve found some of the best pieces that way.”

—

“Call it what you will.” And Parker opted to call it ‘humbling’. More or less, that’s what his brother opted to call it after a while, once he had relinquished ever fully knowing what Parker’s problem and subsequent drive was, even though the Warden himself thought it was rather obvious. Fae were haughty. They were entitled. The one who stood before him, he realized with approximately zero surprise, was no different as they talked. “Very well.” The Warden, the same ghost of the smile that had tugged at the corners of his mouth now daring to flit across his face for a moment. Fake. Stretched over his teeth and never reaching his eyes that still stared just past the nymph. It was brief and soon enough it was put back in its place under his dermis. It didn’t feel right on his face. It never did, even when it was genuine, which he couldn’t tell anymore. If it was ever genuine. As the fae spoke, Parker could pick up that it too was using word games. None of it was new to the Warden - the fae often played their word games and it was him that started this battle - so it didn’t take the man too long to realize that the fae was referring to him. “Indeed.” How grand would that be, truly, to be considered a specimen worth adding to someone’s collection. Even if it were a fae. Now if only it weren’t. It was unfortunate, really… Parker didn’t have any friends, no one to talk about his strange obsessions with, his passion for what he did and especially not why. No one ever asked why aside from a surface level as they were either looking at him with disgust or begging for him not to harvest from them. “It’s a shame you only collect antiques, then.” Parker replied rather casually. “What was it you said, so long as it was over one hundred?” The real question was ‘would the fae renege on its statement earlier’, make an exception or would it stick to its pride and carefully curated responses.

—

They couldn’t agree, wouldn’t. That much was clear and that much was fine with Dīs. It made their conversation crawl to a standstill. Meeting someone new, even for their own collection, wasn’t the reason they were in the museum in the first place, but truthfully, it made the other man all the more interesting. It made them want to know him more. But they were being regarded as prey, at least that was the feeling they got, and they didn’t really like it when the tables were turned on them. 

“Yes, as long as it’s over one hundred,” Dīs reiterated; this was no choreographed dance, and it was left open for any sort of mishap. They were not above putting their own body in the crossfire when it came to backing on prior statements, causing them pain or illness of any sort. But if they could avoid it by following the music that seemed to play for only the pair, that would be even better.

Sometimes, though, Dīs didn’t care for the music.

“A shame? Oh no, I wouldn’t say that. I see it as an opportunity to start expanding my collection. I hear retro is very in.” They felt their phone vibrate in their pocket, an irony considering they were about to use time as an excuse to leave. A glance at the screen elicited the slightest crinkle in the fae’s hazel eyes - irritation. The phone was slipped back into its cloth cocoon. 

“Unfortunately, I do need to leave, but this was an… enlightening conversation.” Dīs pulled the mass of wavy, black hair into one hand and draped it over the shoulder furthest from their company. A question dared itself to rear its head, a curiosity that may go unanswered, but what harm could it do? He apparently already knew what they were (there was no way they were mistaken for a hunter, either), and was confident enough to reveal himself.

Dīs wanted to know why.

“I do have one question for you before I go.” They kept their expression pleasant, but their eyes stopped onto the pinned insects in front of them. “I’ve been told that there are two types of people who show their cards early in a game. There are the ones who are a little too excitable, maybe even a little stupid… and then there are the ones who have something up their sleeve. Why did you show me your cards,” their golden eyes flicked down to the name tag before drifting back up to the man’s face, “Mr. Wright?”

He had the upper hand, Dīs could admit that. Why did he seemingly throw that away? Did he know something they didn’t?

—

‘Retro is very in’. Parker wouldn’t have considered ‘archaic’ to qualify as ‘retro’ but he knew what the nymph meant. At least it didn’t change its previous statement and it only served to assist in his lack of fear towards the fae. And while he uncharacteristically thought that perhaps he could keep his casual responses going for a little while longer, the nymph retrieved its phone and would be the first to depart from their conversation. Though he wasn’t feeling it then, the Warden knew that this was for the best of both parties - the longer he remained in close proximity to the nymph, the more he could feel his blood frothing, his mind burning with curiosity, his imagination ravenous like a wolf being tempted with the promise of a feast. If only it could pierce the veil. The same smile that had threatened Parker’s face still lingered, though it never quite made its appearance and he kept his icy blue eyes on the fae as it asked ‘why’. That was the question, wasn’t it? Why did anyone do anything? Why was the fae in the museum, at his exhibition, walking about like a dime-store goth and entertaining fancies like collecting dusty artifacts then telling him that he was being wasteful by not keeping the entire body of a fae in his basement. He was a Collector, not a serial killer. Maybe one day people would learn not to conflate the two. For now, though, Parker let the question linger in the air for a moment, but not too long of a moment as he knew his company was summoned elsewhere. He himself turned back to the displays, his eyes dancing over the intricate patterns of the wings. “There’s a third reason why someone may show their hand; it’s when they don’t consider whoever they’re showing to be a player in the game.” The Warden rested his hands on his belt - not his trusty utility belt, unfortunately, but this one still had one pouch that he could place his thumb on. He also opted to leave off the part where he didn’t consider the conversation enlightening, not really. It was an amusing waste of time, or it would’ve been if Parker found literally anything amusing. He didn’t though, the least of all, fae. He… loathed them at the best of times. ‘You’re so much fun at parties.’ “The answer is irrelevant; from our discussion, it seems you also have a set mind so you’re inclined to believe what you want.” With that, Parker gave a small bow of his head to the nymph. “Have a nice day.” And he turned and walked back to where he was standing previously, his back straight, his posture professional and his mind wanting him to tear that veil off of the nymph to see what it was hiding from him, what he could harvest and add to his collection.

—

The universe did a good job at remaining neutral. Between their encounter in such a public setting and the urgent message ending it just when things were getting good, the universe was nothing short of an artist. But it did make their paths cross, for whatever reason — they were now aware of each other’s presence. That both excited Dīs and worried them. Although they were long-lived and still had a ways to go, they weren’t invincible by any means. Not to mention, they couldn’t imagine living without their antlers, or their crown, so to speak.

Perhaps Parker was right about that, about their pride being held in what made them fae. But humans did the same thing, did they not? They had to wonder how he would feel if they took something of his own.

“Glass houses, my friend.” Pride, self-importance, a confidence in one’s own abilities and power — the reflection was clear. It really was a shame that he turned out to be a hunter; Dīs would have liked to have someone like him around during their adolescence, a friend, even if they disagreed on most. The phrase ‘unstoppable force vs. immovable object’ came to mind, eliciting only a soft chuckle in response. Yes, it did seem that both of their minds were made up. The dismissal was expected yet still curt and left them to stare after the man’s back with the ghost of their chuckle still on their face.

“You as well.” Their smile dropped when they gave the butterfly on the wall one last glance before they sauntered out with a new heaviness that settled uncomfortably on their mind. They had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last they saw of Parker Wright.

[faustianbroker]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Somewhere in town PARTIES: Gabagool & Dīs (@disinfernus) SUMMARY: Gabs happens upon a half-glamoured Dīs, and thinks that they should very much meet Leviathan. For reasons. Definitely not blackmail reasons.  CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

What a life of luxury. Splitting his time between the shop and the house, the little badalisc wanted for nothing. He was fed, brushed, bathed and loved by the Leviathan and its child, dear Teddy, who both treated him with the respect he so deserved. He was more than a pet to them, he was family. And family, well, they looked out for one another. So, as it trundled through town that evening to sniff out gossip, it did so with the intention of taking whatever it heard back to the Leviathan, so the greater demon could use the information as it saw fit.

Keeping mostly to the shadows of alleyways and the above-eye-level safety of fire escapes, Gabagool was able to move from building to building, peeking in windows and pressing his little ears to glass to see what he could hear. Nothing interesting, nothing interesting… ooh, that guy was stealing money from his boss. That could be something! Filing it away for further investigation, Gabagool was about to shimmy down the fire escape when a sound made him snap to attention. Someone was in the alley below, looking flustered and like they were trying to hide something. Gabagool loved people who were trying to hide things. 

Dropping himself down to the next lowest platform of the rickety, rusty fire escape, the lesser demon watched as large antlers appeared on the human’s head. Ahh, not so human after all! Juicy.

“Nice rack ya got there,” he called down to the other, wearing a wide, toothy, cheshire grin. “Sure would be a shame if the wrong sorta fella saw them, wouldn’t it?”

___

Glamours were nothing new to the fae population in general, but they were new to Dīs. They’d practiced when they were younger and they knew what to do to produce a successful facade, but they didn’t have the skill to keep it consistent. Not for hours and certainly not under duress, the latter of which followed the frustrated fae so faithfully out into the frigid evening. They wanted answers and all they managed to get so far were ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I had nothing to do with it’.

Absolutely vexed, Dīs hurried into the nearest alley and lingered by its mouth. With their back pressed to an adjacent wall, Dīs forced their face into the palm of their hands and huffed out an annoyed groan. They became aware of how their mask slipped and distorted along with their emotions, but they had no idea how far the human appearance fell — they couldn’t tell. But someone else could, it seemed, judging by the voice that interrupted their little pity party.

Dīs’ attention went straight to the source — a diminutive creature with an extensively knowing grin. They didn’t like the way it looked at them. They didn’t like the threat, either, even if they had no idea what the little cretin meant by ‘rack’ — Oh. 

It only took them a flash of a second to realize, but it was long enough to morph Dīs’ expression from one of confusion to anger. They most certainly didn’t appreciate the threat now. Long arms crossed over exposed chest as brows buried downward, effectively wrinkling the space between them. “It would be, yes,” Dīs returned stiffly. A tense beat. “What do you want?”

—

“Ohh, don’t be so cranky!” He hefted his rotund body up off of the metal, strutting toward the staircase down to the first level, rubbing his side up against the bars like a cat. “I just think you’re neat, that’s all!” Hopping down the steps to the lowest level of the fire escape, the ungainly creature perched his front paws on the ladder that would drop to the cobblestone below with enough force. Instead, though, he angled his gaze at the stranger again, that eerie smile never leaving his wide face. “What’s your name, friend?” With a hop, he disengaged the ladder, sending it sliding with a loud, grating sound, until it locked into place again and made the whole structure tremble. Unfazed, Gabagool began the careful descent to the ground, going headfirst, one paw in front of the other with a surprising amount of control over his balance. 

“C’mon,” he continued, leaping the last few feet down to the cobblestone and plopping his butt down, tilting his head at the other. His stature was something like that of a medium-sized dog breed, but much differently shaped. “I’m just a little guy. Can’t we be pals?”

—

Cranky wasn’t the half of it, but they kept that tidbit to themself. Dīs didn’t want to give the prying sprite any more personal information — the creature already had the most important one of all and that alone could be devastating. What would it take to keep their entire identity a secret? They watched as their impromptu visitor expertly clambered down from their perch. No, Dīs certainly didn’t like them at all. They wrinkled their nose at the goading, feeling entirely irritated, but made no move to put any distance between them. As much as they detested to be made to feel small, they needed to see this through.

“Is that how you make friends? With threats?” It certainly was one way to get someone’s attention, but Dīs didn’t want friends. They didn’t need friends, especially not ones so brazen and sneaky. Those sorts only meant trouble. Now, trouble could be fun, but not at their own expense. 

—

The badalisc’s ears flicked forward, that wide, toothy grin only expanding. “Sometimes,” he purred. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s your name? I mean, I can figure it out on my own, but I’d rather you just tell me. Less work, and all.” The lesser demon pranced over to them, mismatched eyes staring up at them with some sort of malicious intent buried deep beneath that glittering smile.

“I just like antlers, maybe. And I’m not the wrong sorta fella! I’m a very nice fella. Haven't heard anything about you in town, though… you must be so careful. I bet that’s tiring. Aren’t you tired?” It was difficult to discern if there was more to the words, or if they were just that—words. Gabagool gave the air a long, deep sniff, then nodded. “Yeah… you’re tired. And stressed. What’s stressing you out, buddy? You can tell your good friend Gabs.”

—

Dīs very much didn’t like the position they’d found themselves in, but what were they supposed to do? The little creature had their face — and their secret — by the balls and they couldn’t see an immediate way out without playing along, no matter how fast their mind worked through the possibilities. None of them worked. Dīs sucked in their cheeks and bit down. The side effects of lying were less than savory, but they wondered if they could get away with it. Did it even matter? They didn’t know what exactly he was capable of, but they did believe him when he said he would find out. That could prove worse for them in the long run than if they just removed the so-called band aid right then and there. Shitty options proved for a shitty outcome, regardless.

Dīs pulled their crossed arms closer to their chest, their muscles tight, but they held their gaze steady, unwavering. They seemed confident, stubborn almost, if it hadn’t been for how plainly their body language exposed their discomfort. “Dīs,” they answered curtly. “I don’t suppose you’d offer me the same courtesy and give me your name in return?” It was worth a shot. A shot in the dark, but they couldn’t not try. It was their nature.

“No.” Yes. Yes, they were tired. Everything was so much easier when you were in control and no one questioned anything, nor really needed anything from you — Dīs had it all. Now all they had left was death, ruin, and unanswered questions. Their thick brows furrowed down, darkening the shadow that covered their piercing, golden stare. They looked very much as if they’d smelled something foul. “... You are not my friend. Just—” Dīs reached up with a hand to massage at the space between their brows in frustration and sighed. “Tell me what you want. I’m not much of a fan of small talk.”

—

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gabagool clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the tall creature. “Won’t be falling for that, now. Smarter than your average bear, I’m afraid. I’ll tell you my name when I’m good and ready, friend.” 

“You shouldn’t lie. I hear it gives fae tummy aches,” the demon teased, lifting a paw to bite at a nail for a second before continuing the small talk that Dïs, lovely Dïs, hated so much. “You know, I’ve heard that fae are ancestors of demons. How does that make you feel, Dïs? Less-than? Pathetic?” He bit out the last word, baring his sharp little teeth in a sneer. “Well, you shouldn’t. You should be proud to be a dilution of the great ones. I know I am. My great one, my master… oh, it’s the greatest. Just the swellest fella you’d ever meet. And it likes knowing about the interesting people in this town. I’d say you’re pretty interesting, Dïs. It’d probably love to know you. And did you know, it likes helping people? Tired people, like you. Stressed people. It likes helping them, for a price. It could help you, I bet.” A beat. “Or it could make your life hell. But I guess that’s up to you. You should introduce yourself, and soon! I’ll be telling it all about this little encounter. It’ll want to meet you.”

—

Missed by a mile. Ah well, that was expected. What did they all like to say? ‘No harm in trying’, right? But Dīs was pretty sure they didn’t factor demons into the equation. They’d have to notate the failure in case they thought about trying again — just don’t do it. There was always the possibility that it could backfire and right then, it felt like it had.

Tummy aches were the least of Dīs’ worries. Blackmail was a much more pertinent matter to attend to. While they had a certain degree of admiration for how slickly they’d been pulled into the ruse, they didn’t like to be on the other end of the stick. Especially not when there were more facets at play. Dīs would have preferred to hash this out in the alley, to get this over and done with so they could go home, but that didn’t seem like an option and they weren’t stupid enough to push it. 

The look of distaste and irritation were evident across Dīs’ face. “Fine,” they piped up after that sickly monologue. They had no real world experience with demons, nothing other than the words they now failed to remember from old texts — it was nothing that could help them, anyway. Dīs dropped their arms to their side, looking very much like a defiant child with their hands balled into fists. “Where can I find… your master?”

—

Grinning from ear to little ear, the badalisc was mighty pleased with himself, clearly. “Oh, Leviathan is everywhere,” he answered unhelpfully at first, with a mischievous glint in those mismatched eyes. After a beat, he cackled. “I’m kidding! It likes to work out of the cozy back room in Mephisto’s Repository, most days. I could show you its house, but I don’t know how it would take an unexpected guest. Might bite you right in half! It likes to do that, too. Says fae have a silly kinda cotton-candy aftertaste. Isn’t that fun?” 

Gabagool got to his paws, jerking his head in the opposite direction out of the alleyway. “I can take you to the shop, if you want, new friend… or you can go home and think about how to best make yourself useful to us. For now. Just know that I’m very good at finding people, and Leviathan is not an especially patient demon when it comes to wrangling new… mmm… minions.”

__

They knew of the place. As a fellow collector, there were plans of visiting the shop but they hadn’t gotten around to it since surfacing. Now it seemed, they had no choice but to follow through. The theatrics were unnecessary but expected and the threat was taken to heart. With a name like that, they believed the demon could indeed bite them in half — or worse. “Thrilling,” they returned dryly. They didn’t even like cotton-candy; was it true? Dīs wasn’t about to find out.

Minion. The word alone made Dīs’ upper lip curl into a grimace. They didn’t like being on the other end of that stick. It made them feel small and powerless, like a worm. “No,” they answered in return, “I know where the Repository is. Let them know I will be by tomorrow, then.” And if that day didn’t work, then they were sure Leviathan’s pet would pass it along to Dīs. That thought made them nervous; they didn’t like to be known.

—

“Okie dokey, pokey,” Gabagool said in a singsong voice, one that didn’t match the wicked sneer on his face. “We’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then, good friend. And hey, remember—you are what you eat! So make sure you really like what you’re eating.” It was… a curious choice of words, though if one considered that the badalisc might not mean it so very literally, then it carried yet another kind of threat, veiled behind absurdity. That was the lesser demon’s way, after all. 

Without further ado, the badalisc trotted off deeper into the alley, scaling a different set of window AC units to the fire escape, which led him back to the roof. 

He liked to feel tall.

[magmahearts]

FAE OF WICKED'S REST

( @ironheartedfae @kadavernagh @closingwaters @faunandfl0ra @mayihaveyournameplease @faoighiche @banisheed @disinfernus )

[deathsplaything]

Well, yeah. I can see lights and shadows, but that's it. Sticking to set routes makes it a bit easier for me to get around.

[...] I'm down if you are.

Even if it means the possibility for more peace? Ah, well, that is understandable. You can't see anything at all?

[...] [...] [...] Genuinely? You truly want to do this?

[wickedsrest-rp]

Crabs Gone Wild | Group Thread

TIMING: Current PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f), Marcus (@thenavysealkie), Van (@vanoincidence), & Dīs (@disinfernus) SUMMARY: After a disruption on the beach, Marcus finds himself with company on the shore close to the lighthouse. Crabs are everywhere! While the four discuss amongst themselves on what to do with the crabs (get rid of them, or leave them alone entirely) something lurks beneath the surface as they figure out a way to get them to scatter: coffee!

Wicked’s Rest. The little town with an equal measure of college kids and apparent secrets. Today was a beautiful day in early June, the sun shining overhead as several families, groups of friends and lone bathers took advantage of the lovely weather by frequenting the beach. The sand was layered in swathes of technicolored towels, picnic blankets and punctured by bright umbrellas. The smell of something cooking was wafting through the salty sea breeze and the sound of the waves lapping the shore was drowned out by laughter and discussion, shouting because someone let the ball drift too far out to sea, dogs barking as they brought back that disgusting, seaweed-covered stick back when they have so many toys they could’ve fetched instead. Gael wasn’t quite in the middle of the hubbub as he probably would’ve been. Instead, today, he was sitting on an old wooden bench by himself at the foot of a staircase that led from the sandy ground to the paths above, the walkway that overlooked that particular section of beach. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to any one thing as he sat there, slightly hunched and wearing plain clothes. His back hurt and he couldn’t recall getting much (if any) sleep the night before but what he COULD remember was being incredibly sore, that familiar sensation of his skeleton being rearranged by whatever he did when he sleepwalked. He wasn’t going to complain about it, though, instead finding solace in his existence at that moment as he sipped hot black coffee from one of his trusty old mugs. The messenger bag he took almost everywhere with him was loosely strung over his shoulder, resting on one side of him while a tall thermos stood upright on the other. His half-lidded eyes with the dark circles under them looked ahead, catching glimpses of activity here and there before it faded back into the haze of motion and color. Yep, today was going to be just– Then Gael heard a scream. It was distant and he was exhausted but even with those two factors considered, he instinctively raised his head, squaring his shoulders as was put on alert, turning in the direction he heard the scream coming from. In a swirl of activity, he saw people standing about, the joy largely gone from them as a collective as they gazed upon a mass of something moving on the shore near the lighthouse. Black, chittering, hundreds of… what were those? Gael forced himself to stand, gathering his few belongings, finishing his cup of coffee and he hastily made his way up the staircase to get a better look, ignoring the humming and nervous chatter of beachgoers and passersby. Once he was at the top, he looked out over the railing at the glittering, swaying collection of what appeared to be hundreds of crabs, their shells oily black and their movements highly irregular, never mind that Gael had never seen so many in one place before. “Well THAT doesn’t look good,” He murmured to himself, cleaning the mug with the hem of his shirt before stuffing it into his bag.

The sun poked through Marcus’s window and woke him far earlier than he would have liked. Granted, it was mid morning already, but his recent bout of insomnia meant he had only fallen asleep at about 5am. He silently cursed being woken up so early after finally being able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Regardless, he figured it was best to get up and start his day. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be falling back asleep. 

After getting dressed, he walked outside and the typical sounds of the town that usually greeted him were replaced with a sharp scream followed by quiet murmuring. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a large group of people huddled around the shore, nervously whispering amongst themselves. What the hell was going on?

He moved towards the shore, trying to peek over the mass of people to figure what had them all so concerned. And then he saw it. A mass of crabs, all huddled together like it was some sort of crab family reunion. On second thought, this seemed far sinister. They were all completely black and shiny as if they were covered in oil. This difference and their strange movements made it seem almost like a cult scene. Of course, the idea of a crab cult was a ridiculous one. 

Still, whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. Marcus sighed to himself and started to move towards the shoreline to get a closer look.

As the body of crabs ebbed and flowed, moving as one grand unit like an oozing black wave of dangerous pincers (and definitely too strange for Gael to assume was natural), he found himself glancing around at the crowd of onlookers. Most of them started generally retreating, which made sense but he was looking specifically for anyone who was moving towards the mass. Scanning, scanning, then his eyes fell upon a fit man who seemed to be making his way in the opposite direction of the general movement of the crowd. That was the one he wanted to talk to - his mind was already perceiving this as a challenge and while he had no idea how to fix anything yet, finding solidarity in someone else who was at least curious to see what was happening was a plus in his book. Shakily, he descended the staircase once more, keeping his sharp eyes on where he last saw the man, weaving his way through the crowd with as much polite urgency as he could until he locked his vision on the man. “Hey–” he called to get the man’s attention. “Hey, sorry to bother you but…” He trailed off and looked over at the crab rave, which was considerably more intimidating now that he was closer. “The hell’s going on?"

God, there were so many of them. All huddled together as one black mass and… were they dancing? To say this was unusual would be a massive understatement, something was seriously wrong with these crabs. And if the crabs were affected this way, he could only imagine how this would affect the rest of the wildlife along the shore and in the water. He didn’t like the idea of getting closer, but he needed to figure this out. 

Suddenly he heard a man’s voice call out behind him. Why was he asking him what was happening? How should he know? 

“Somethings up with the crabs” he said, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. “I’m gonna try to figure out what’s going on so I can fix them. Care to join me?” 

He looked like a practically minded and logical man, maybe he could offer some useful insight?

If they weren’t staring down an army of crabs, Gael might’ve replied with sarcasm at the response but this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag with a nod. “Yeah, I was hoping you would say that.” His eyes danced over the other man’s stern features as though searching for something he wasn’t sure he was looking for. “Okay, so…” He gulped and nodded his head. “Bunch of crabs. I don’t know much about crabs but I don’t think they usually… move in unison like that,” It was his turn to state the obvious and the hand that had his thermos looped around a couple of his fingers was placed on his hip, the other tapping his chin in thought. “Gael, by the way.” He introduced as he started to make his way closer to the mass slowly, not waiting for the other man to follow as he assumed he would naturally since he was going that direction anyway.

The man wasn’t quite as insightful as he had hoped, but that was alright. At least two heads were better than one when it came to situations like this. “I don’t know much either, but I spend a lot of time by the water. These little guys usually keep to themselves and look a lot less…slimy”.

He heard the man introduce himself as Gael. “Marcus” he answered back. “We’ll get each other’s life stories later, for now let’s get in there and take a closer look”. With that, Marcus and Gael trudged forwards towards the crab rave. 

It was almost as if something was controlling them all, as if they were puppets being piloted in some strange performance. Of course, that idea was ridiculous. Then again, dancing crabs were also ridiculous. If something really was controlling these crabs, Marcus really wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of coming face to face with it. Yet, on the other hand, whatever it was also needed to be stopped. He hoped it was just some sort of chemical leak and there was no supernatural force at play. He knew the fae could be very tricky and even compel humans to an extent, but not animals and not on this scale. At least, not that he knew of. Marcus. Gael made a note of it along with putting a pin in getting to know his temporary puzzle-solving partner as the duo got closer to the pseudo-swarm… Or was it just a regular swarm? How many bodies of something constituted a swarm– Okay, not now. He continued to tap on his chin as he kept his dark eyes on the darker shells of the crab rave - if that wasn’t what it was called, that’s what he was going to call it. As they walked, he tried to think of some of the bits of information his sister gave him pertaining to crabs but among those tips, he couldn’t recall particular weaknesses or ways to deter them, especially in a group this large. They got closer and he watched the mesmerizing movements of the crabs, pausing on the edge of the horde uncertainly. “Well… damn.” He breathed; it was much more intimidating now that they were so close and he felt his sore body on edge, ready to react if something happened.

Marcus felt an odd sense of calm being so near to the swarm of crabs. If they were going to be hostile towards them, they’d have attacked by now. Instead, they were just doing their own thing, vibing. Not that it made their behavior any more acceptable, it didn’t. But at least he knew they’d have time to think instead of having to focus on defending themselves. He looked to his unexpected partner who seemed to be much more nervous than he was. 

“They’re not going to hurt us”, he said matter of factly. “If they wanted to they would have by now. We have time to watch them a little bit more closely. But still be on your guard, we don’t know if there’s anything else waiting to strike. Something scarier than some crabs.” He examined them more closely. Crabs were really like an advanced form of insect, so could their minds even be manipulated? Did they even have free will to begin with, or were they simply driven by instinct? Surely there was something they could do to break them up. 

“This might sound stupid, but I want to see how deep in their trance they are. I don’t want to touch them and get any of that black gunk all over me, and I doubt you do either. Do you have anything we can throw at them to spook them off?” he asked Gael, looking at the man expectantly.

The good news was that Marcus seemed more I'm control of himself than Gael felt… the latter contributed his emotions to a handful of things, not to mention that Marcus looked more like he belonged there for some reason. Maybe it was just that the professor had never seen so many crabs in one place before in his life, especially ones that were moving as some sort of hive mind.

He shook his head out of his thoughts when Marcus asked him a question directly and he thought briefly before rummaging through his messenger bag. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to carry a bunch of inherently useless things with him so after muttering to himself, he pulled out half of a very chewed wooden pencil and his mug, still smelling of the coffee from his thermos. "Will either of these work?" He asked. While he liked that mug, he had many more at home and sometimes science required sacrifices.

Vicker’s Beach, for the most part, had been a source of comfort for Van. It was a little odd, considering the memories that congregated there, but she wasn’t going to argue with something that kept her calm. If she focused on the good, then the bad wouldn’t be so worrisome, right? Van had every intention of arriving early, but she hadn’t woken up in time. Deciding that the beach would be too busy, she opted for something close to it instead. The lighthouse wasn’t her first choice, but she had spent some time there during high school in her I’m going to be a photographer phase. It hadn’t lasted very long. 

Except, when she eventually arrived at the end of the path, her coffee in hand, she was faced with something else entirely. There were tons of crabs. And – Gael? “Gael?” Van stared at the man she only knew in passing from when he had visited Sly Slice, and then she looked to the other person. She didn’t recognize them. “Why…” She felt grossed out watching the crabs fall over each other. she didn’t know anything about the crabs, not really, just that they were plaguing the town. “Why are there so many crabs? What are they doing?” She didn’t think this was how they mated. She was entranced by the horde, not completely realizing that Gael and the unknown stranger had been deep in their own conversation. 

Still holding the items aloft, Gael heard his name being called somehow through the buzzing people and skittering crabs and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Van!” He gave her a tired but genuine smile, his expression softening as he regarded the young woman. “Hola señorita, what brings you to crab-infested beaches on this otherwise lovely day?” He asked. 

Marcus examined the chewed wooden pencil, he could still see teeth marks in it. He definitely wasn’t going to touch that, plus it was probably too small to really make enough of a commotion. Now the mug, on the other hand, would be perfect to see if the crabs follow their instincts and scatter. 

He was about to ask Gael to hand over the mug when he heard another voice call out. He turned and saw a woman in the distance, apparently trying to get the other man’s attention. He almost couldn’t believe it when he turned around and called out loudly to the woman as if they had ran into each other at the supermarket and not in front of an obsidian crab cult. He felt a bit annoyed, but still turned around and kept track of the conversation. He sensed there was more to the woman than met the eye, but he couldn’t place his finger on anything in particular. He’d have to watch her a bit more closely once this crab situation was figured out. 

“Let’s have a reunion later, right now how about you hand me that mug? We can throw it into the mob and see if they scatter.”

Van was still disgusted by the way the crabs moved over one another. She felt her stomach begin to turn at the sight, so she forced her gaze away to the other person standing next to Gael. “The other beach was full.” The disappointment in her voice was not hard to miss. The crabs skittering ahead of her were the reason she never left her house, and for good reason. What were they even doing? She could hear the clacking of their claws and legs as they ran over each other and it made Van’s skin crawl. 

“I don’t know if it was a reunion, we barely know each other.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked at Gael. “Oh, you have coffee too?” She knew she wasn’t helping the situation, that much was obvious. What she could really do, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they’d ask her for good crab recipes? Her grandma had one in a book somewhere. “Don’t they live here?” She knew the obsidian crabs were a new thing, but still. “Like, this is where they live, why do you want them to leave? Do they eat people?” She didn’t think she heard about them eating people. 

Gael offered a small nod of solemn condolence at Van’s mentioning that the ‘other beach was full’ though he wasn’t sure how serious she was about it. He also looked back at Marcus when the latter spoke up and nodded. “Oh, for sure,” He said, holding the mug out to the man. “I do have coffee,” He hummed absently, tossing the pencil back into his messenger back and holding the thermos aloft. “Helps me function.” The professor regarded the crabs this time, raising an eyebrow. “I think if they ate people, they’d have started eating people by now.” He mused aloud. “And I think the problem is the sheer number we have. And I can’t speak for anyone else but the way they’re moving is just… uncanny.” He frowned.

Dīs had taken up refuge at the base of the lighthouse, mainly to people watch, but on this particular day there seemed to be much more activity than the usual beach goer. They shouldn’t have bothered, they really should have stayed, but curiosity got the better of them so they folded their newspaper neatly and set it onto the plastic chair they’d rested on not moments before.

They looked amazingly out of place with their black robe and circular sunglasses as they strode closer to the goings on. They’d noticed the crab mass earlier and paid it no mind, but with human interruption added to the mix, their curiosity was piqued.

“I agree with her,” Dīs said once they’d reached the group. They kept their distance, but it was close enough to see the undulating mass of crabs. They found themselves fixated on the swirling pattern and how the obsidian captured glints of light across the irregularities in form. “Why do you want them to scatter?” From where they stood, it didn’t look like the crabs were bothering anyone.

Why did he want them to scatter? Because something was very clearly not right with the crabs, and they could be sick or dying for all Marcus knew. He also couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something perhaps a bit more sinister at play. After all, crabs weren’t exactly known for convening in large organized groups like this. He’d seen this behavior in humans many times, primarily in religious settings. As far as he knew, crabs tended not to have a religion. 

He was becoming a bit frustrated at being interrupted by yet another stranger butting into the situation. He should have just handled this situation by himself, he thought. He turned to the stranger and replied “I want them to scatter because this isn’t normal behavior. Usually crabs scuttle along independently from each other, not… whatever this is. It isn’t natural. I don’t want them to leave, just to not be all creepy and hive minded” He then turned to Gael and said “But if you have any other suggestions, I’m all ears buddy”, and then slapped the man on the back. He had meant the gesture as a form of encouragement, but had used a bit more force than he intended to.

With his mug surrendered to Marcus and another party introducing themselves to their merry band of wondering ideas, Gael figured that his role in this prospective play was either coming to an end or he was realizing with weariness that he wasn’t a main character. And that was fine, his body hurt. Using the lid of the thermos as a cup, he poured himself some of the hot coffee that swirled around in the container. “Mass gatherings of any animal tends to be worrying,” He agreed with Marcus. “And these ones are moving weird.” Picking up on some unresolved tension, probably due to the fact that nothing was happening, Gael was content to sip his coffee and brainstorm but he didn’t have much of a chance to when he felt a clap on his back, sending a spike of pain coursing through his body. Before he could stop himself, he grunted from the pulse and dropped his thermos lid, the contents of it splashing the sand and a couple of crabs. …And curiously, they broke from the swaying dance they participated in and did everything in their power to scurry away from the caffeinated beverage, the coffee painting the sand that previously had crab legs on it. “Wait a second,” Gael said slowly, reaching up to massage one of his shoulders and he raised an eyebrow. Leaning forward slightly, holding the thermos aloft, he tilted it just slightly enough that a little stream of coffee drizzled out of the opening. Sure enough, as it landed, the crabs hissed and scrambled, like oil to water. Tilting his head, Gael turned to regard his temporary companions. “Well?” He asked, holding the thermos for anyone else to take. “Call me crazy but I don’t think they like coffee.”

Nobody knew if the crabs ate people. That was a little worrying. But about their habits being abnormal, that was interesting to Van. Not because she cared about crabs, but because it meant that she wasn’t the only weird thing in town. Something else could take the front seat and she could watch from far, far away. Or in this case, too close. The appearance of a fourth person made her nearly jump out of her skin. He was tall and had on dark glasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes. As she opened her mouth to compliment his shades, Gael was spilling his coffee. 

Van winced in solidarity, holding her own cup close to her chest. She was distracted by the potential for a bad burn mark that she hadn’t noticed the crabs scatter at first— not until Gael had commented on it. She looked over and sure enough, they’d split into different directions. Van watched as he tested his theory once more, eyes widening as they began to venture further from where the group stood. “Who doesn’t like coffee?” The crabs, that was who. 

She didn’t necessarily want to lose her coffee to a greater purpose, but if what the men said was true— that crabs congregating as they were was wrong, then they should make it right… right? Van didn’t want to be responsible for assisting in removing the crabs from their home, a small amount of guilt bubbling in her chest already, and she held her own plastic cup out to Gael. “This one is iced so you won’t hurt yourself with it.” 

Dīs looked to the supposed leader of this crab break-up party and arched a brow. No, they weren’t impressed whatsoever. Why couldn’t people leave nature alone? What did it matter if the crabs wanted to circle walk themselves to death? Or mosh, or whatever it is they were doing. Perhaps they should have stayed at home.

“What is with you people and butting into things that may not pertain to you?” Dīs questioned, largely to the group, but to really anyone who bothered to listen. “First the mines,” their jaw clenched with that word and the memories that came with it, “and we all know what came from that. Now this? Whatever happened to observation?” Rhetorical questions, they were sure, but the fact that these strangers wanted to break up something that could be harmless was irritating at best. 

They watched as the circus only elevated in annoyance when one of their thermos lids fell into the sand. The crabs scurried from the beads of coffee that splashed across their brilliantly dark shells, seemingly in pain. Dīs scrunched up their nose with disapproval.

Marcus didn’t mean for Gael to spill his coffee onto the sand or onto the crabs, but it yielded the results he had hoped for regardless. They still had a startle and flight response, so it wasn’t as if they were completely under control of something else. He was relieved to confirm that but also felt a bit guilty that he had startled them. Still, it had to be done for science, otherwise they wouldn’t have much info to go off of. 

He was expecting a few things might make them fearful, but coffee? He theorized maybe it was the strong odor that came off of it. Was their sense of smell sensitive? He didn’t remember reading about crabs having a heightened sense of smell, but he also hadn’t read about them in quite a long time. He was more of a nature enthusiast and less of a marine biologist. In spite of this, he still saw himself as the de facto expert of the group. 

The goth stranger chastised him and the group for causing the crabs to scatter, stating that they were butting in where they didn’t belong and causing harm. Marcus knew all too well that this was one of the more unsavory traits of humanity, investigation too often leading to destruction. But, that wasn’t what they had done, right? A few crabs got spooked and broken out of what looked to be a trance, was that so bad? “It may seem a bit unnecessary, but it was in their best interests,” Marcus now turned to them. “They weren’t acting normal and we needed to investigate. Any conservationist or researcher would have done the same. I mean, you have to admit, that is NOT normal crab behavior. Besides, I didn’t mean for the coffee to spill on them”. 

He didn’t feel as though his apology went over well, but it was hard to tell behind their dark shades they were wearing. Fashionable, and also very effective in concealing your emotions. 

“Do you have an alternative, tall, dark and judgmental?” Gael turned to regard the newest member of the troupe of clowns he felt like they were all turning out to be. As he asked, he took the iced coffee from Van and his expression softened. “I’ll buy you another one, señorita,” He nodded and he glanced at the party. “Speak now or forever hold your coffee,” He announced, holding both containers out in front of him and taking a step as though to sacrifice himself to the crab gods in the hopes that it would work. 

The tall one was obviously annoyed, even Van who wasn’t all that observant could see it a mile away. She looked over at him apprehensively before averting her gaze, looking down as a lone crab began to go in the opposite direction of the others. Van didn’t know anything about the mines. Well, the only thing she did know was to stay the hell away from them. 

“Yeah, fine.” Van watched Gael approach the swarm of crabs, brows lifting in anticipation for what was to come. 

Only, instead, a distant rumbling from beneath of them sounded. She looked towards the group, brows pulled together in confusion. “Are one of you like, really hungry?”

Dīs had a bad feeling about this. Between the crabs dispersing from the coffee spill to the sudden and slow rumble that started from under their feet, none of it felt right. They’d already warned them once, now it was only a matter of time before something went belly up as it tended to do. 

They didn’t care for the apology, only the creeping feeling that crawled over their skin as they watched the coffee disperse more of the crabs once it was washed over them. The sound only grew, a feeling first before it became more of just a simple stomach gurgle. 

Dīs shook their head, “I told you to leave them alone.” They assumed the sound was connected; how could it not be? It felt like a call, a response to the crab’s circling interruption.

Marcus glanced over again at the darkly dressed stranger. They did have a point, they were told to leave the crabs alone. But it was too late now, what was done was done. The rumbling beneath them definitely couldn’t have been a good sign. Was there something underground?

He wondered if it was related to the mine at all, but thought better about suggesting another investigation. After all, this towns residents don’t have a good track record with mines. Besides, he remembered his promise to Cass not to go into any other caves, and he wasn’t sure if a mine counted as a cave. He didn’t feel like taking the gamble.

“If i didn’t know any better, id say we pissed something off. Just no idea what yet. And while I’d love to investigate, that sort of got us into this mess in the first place. Any ideas?” he asked the group vaguely.

When no one objected, Gael gave a small, sore half-shrug and moved forward, carefully stepping around the crabs and splashing the coffee to land on as few of them as possible. However, he also came to a stop when he heard (and felt) something, the something other people no doubt also heard and acknowledged. Gael rolled his eyes to himself but took a step back, turning to look over his shoulder with his brow furrowed. “I’m taking suggestions but standing around not doing anything is a hazard to a lot of people.” He motioned out to the crabs (noting that there were indeed fewer of them since his spraying the beach with the coffee), then over to the collection of beachgoers that still gathered around idly though some of them started to look at the ground themselves. “So if you’d like to actually contribute then you’re more than welcome to instead of standing there telling people what to do.”

Van stood awkwardly to the side as the men bickered amongst themselves. She should have just kept going, she decided. It was dumb to stop. She could be at home watching something by now if she hadn’t let her curiosity get the better of her. 

She still had no idea what was happening, or where the noise had come from. Part of Van thought she had imagined it altogether. She paused momentarily, listening to Gael as he spoke. ”What are we supposed to do? Shouldn’t we call animal control for something like this?” That made the most sense. What would four totally normal people need to do with mass amounts of crabs skittering around? It wasn’t their job to do anything. “They’re just crabs,” Van repeated, mirroring her earlier sentiment. 

Dīs did their best to keep everything under wraps. There was too much of a crowd to lose their cool there, despite this interjection into wildlife’s path feeling much like an injustice. They felt for the crabs, but what could they do then and there? Their faces were kept in remembrance for future gleanings. Dīs crossed their arms. “It certainly sounds like it,” they agreed, glad that at least one of them seemed to understand even if it was too late. The other man, on the other hand, grated on their nerves.

“I did contribute and you chose to ignore my warning. I told you to leave them alone and now there’s something else going on. But if you want another suggestion, I agree with her,” Dīs pointed to the young woman, again agreeing with her sentiment. “One of you should call animal control, since you want to do something so badly about the crabs.” They weren’t just crabs, but nothing good ever came out of snooping where one shouldn’t snoop. Upset, Dīs was ready to leave the brainless on the beach with their crabs. They didn’t want to bicker anymore about something so stupid.

Marcus wasn’t really sure animal control was going to go wrangling up a bunch of loose crabs on the beach, nor did he think it would really do any good. His main concern, at this point, was now on the rumbling underground. He could hear it getting louder. It was to the point where he began to feel vibrations in his feet and couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. Something was very wrong here, and it extended beyond a weird crab cult. 

“I think the crabs are the least of our concern now. After all, like you said, they weren’t hurting anybody. But the last time I checked, Maine isn’t anywhere near any fault lines. So I think my biggest concern right now is whatever’s causing this rumbling sound. We should probably evacuate the people standing nearby, and then get out of here ourselves. I don’t want to end up becoming one with the earth just yet”. 

Tired, sore and finding himself starting to get frustrated by being told what to do by some goth stranger standing on the sidelines, Gael took a deep inhale, muttered under his breath in Spanish (something about “dumb” and “bossy”) and abandoned his endeavor, handing Van her cup that still had a little bit of coffee in it and closing up his own thermos. Normally he wasn’t like this… he attributed his sour behavior to the lack of caffeine and the fact that he felt like he got hit by a truck the night before. Despite being tired and sore, however, something different seeped into Gael’s bones and thumped into his ears as well as he regarded the crabs that, for all intents and purposes, no longer seemed to be moving in unison - now it was the rumbling that traced up his nerves. “It’s probably just tectonic shifts in the ocean,” He shrugged, casually playing off that he didn’t like the sensation either; fortunately, science tended to have his back on these, even if bigger earthquakes weren’t common up north. No use worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet though and he stowed the thermos in his bag, irritated and wanting to go back to bed. And to think this had started as such a lovely day on the beach. “A better plan then saying what everyone else should do without doing anything yourself.” Gael said pointedly, placing a hand on his shoulder and popping his neck. “I’ll start with that group,” He pointed to a chunk of people and without waiting for permission, started to motion with his hands in a general gesture, calling something to them along the lines of “let’s go, it’s a good idea to leave”.

Van looked over as the man spoke about evacuating. Dumbstruck, she took the cup back from Gael as he handed it over. There was barely any left– not enough to give her a caffeine buzz, at least. She’d need to pick up a redbull later to stay awake fully. Despite her confusion, she was glad that the string bean goth guy was agreeing with her. At least somebody was taking her word for it was and wasn’t treating her like a complete kid. 

However, Van’s confusion dissipated as the rumbling got louder. She was sure it wasn’t anybody’s stomach this time. Gael said something scienc-y, which was totally like him, and she held onto the fact that might not be a fact, but an assumption as if it were a lifeline. It made sense. Of course it did. “So we are… asking people to leave?” Van looked over at Gael for confirmation before looking between the other two, her stomach doing somersaults at what an earthquake could potentially mean for Wicked’s Rest. “I’ll go with you,” Van pointed at Gael, quickly heading to his side. 

Fault lines, tectonic plates — it all sounded wrong, but even they didn’t know what could be making that ever growing rumbling. Dīs didn’t feel like arguing anymore, especially not with a new curiosity. They were certainly going to explore the copious caverns later. Right now, though, they supposed they needed to vacate the beach.

And to think, it all started with some crabs.

Dīs turned from the Three Stooges and came face to face with a lingering crowd, whom, despite the growing growl from beneath the grown, stayed around to see what lasting spectacle they could find. Dīs grimaced and slithered their way through the group, refusing to acknowledge any of their wandering stares or help them vacate in any way, shape, or form. They all made their beds, for all they cared.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Mid-June LOCATION: [REDACTED] PARTIES: Dīs (@disinfernus) & [REDACTED] (@howdy-cowpoke) SUMMARY: The cowboy needs his names back, and Dīs is willing to make a deal. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

It really was no wonder this Monty fellow had such a conundrum. At first, Dīs wasn’t entirely sure the super secret roaming marketplace even existed, but they were determined to find something, all for the sake of wanting to meet such a gullible and forthcoming person. If taking names was as easy in person as it was online, then this could be a very lucrative meeting for Dīs.

Unsurprisingly, the marketplace seemed entirely exclusive — Invitation only. They would have turned up empty handed if it hadn't been for a fellow fae with a rather helpful personality. After a bit of back and forth and explanation of the situation, not to mention a bit of laughter, they had it — the bargaining chip needed to have a bit of fun.

Now, Dīs didn’t have the intent to keep anything, especially names; it was an amusing game to play, one that gave them fleeting pleasure, but names were easy. Too easy, in their opinion, it was why they took so much more from others, including their lives. Loyalty was a rewarding one, as well, but that took a bit more effort than the tried and true lure into eternal darkness.

They didn’t know what would come of this, however, as they made their way onto the quaint farm. The stench from the Allgood Death Pit filled Dīs’ nostrils (it was both suffocating and familiar), but it did little to deter them from finding a way to one Monty Rivera’s doorstep. The entire place reeked of death, but they couldn’t be sure if it was the pit or something else. 

Dīs rapped upon the wooden door before them, looking largely out of place in their all black getup amidst the greenery and brown tones. It didn’t take too long for their knock to be answered and in the open doorway stood who they assumed to be Monty. Rugged and unkempt, but handsome all the same (for a human, assuming), the smell seemed to follow him too. Either that, or it was just everywhere. 

“Are you the owner?”

—

The fact that he couldn’t figure out why people kept calling him Montaña and, much more importantly, why the name of his farm seemed to have disappeared was one that weighed heavily on the zombie’s mind. It had for days now, and while he couldn’t understand what was going on, he knew that the person that had offered to help him was behind it. Probably. Maybe? God, everything was so mixed up in his head…

Sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, the cowboy lifted it at the sound of someone knocking at the door, and his nerves ramped up. Could that be them? Probably just Daisy. Though she usually just let herself inside—sliding out of the chair, he padded over to the front door and opened it to find a stranger on his stoop.

A quick glance past them assured him that they were at least alone, and he gave a small nod. “Sí, that’s me,” he answered in a small voice, staring up at the taller person. “Are… are you…?”

—

They didn’t care much for farming or dairy. They didn’t even care too much for taking names or thanks, either, but it was a useful tool in gaining leverage. Right then, Dīs needed leverage in finding some answers. Most weren’t willing to give up their energy and time to help a stranger unless it were for a price — or if the bargaining chip became much more personal. It was Dīs’ preferred method as it tended to yield better, and faster, results.

Confirmation, good. They had the right house and the right person. Dīs reached out a flat and outstretched hand, and offered it to the other man with a rather cool and placid smile. “I am, yes," they confirmed with a smile that grew. “Please, call me Dīs. It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I come in?” Though they liked to take what they wanted, when it pleased them, they did have manners. They weren’t lawless. 

—

Taking the person’s hand to shake, Montaña lacked the usual grace and charm he turned on for strangers, just… staring up at them looking a bit flummoxed before nodding and stepping out of the way to allow them into the house. “Of course,” he said softly, closing the door behind them again. 

Pressing his palms against his thighs for a moment before moving deeper into the house and motioning for Dïs to follow, Montaña found himself wringing his hands as they moved from the foyer into the living room to sit. He then looked up at them again, concern evident in his gentle features. 

“I-I’m sorry, um, Dïs, I just—my things. My names. You took them? I do not understand.” How, for certain, but also why…? “What do you… intend to do with them? Can… can I have them back? Please?” He seemed so uncertain but he didn’t know what else to say in this situation, instead just hoping that he could somehow appeal to the strange being’s better nature. The entire reason that the stranger had taken them was almost forgotten—information about that bizarre night market where there were angry vendors. He’d wanted help finding information on them, and apparently that had cost him his own name and the name of his farm. He blinked, sucking in a short breath. “I can… we can figure something out, sí? For payment for whatever information you… might have found out. Something else.”

—

Well. That was a bit of a surprise. That feeling likely showed across Dīs’ face, if only for the flash of a moment while they composed themself. Hmph. Fine. They needed to rearrange some things, then, if only to gain back the upper hand. The confusion and tenderness that came from this man led them to believe that there was no intent for a game of tug of war, but they couldn’t help but to feel slighted. 

“You know? How?” They kept their tone even, though they wanted to scream. It wasn’t the nameless that would have figured it out so well, was it? He had fallen into the trap so easily that it felt like he practically walked in of his own volition — so who did it? They couldn’t very well have someone poke holes in their ship.

“That was my intention, so — yes. Fine.” All the wind had been taken out of their sails, but this wouldn’t be for naught. They could still get something out of this, even if the element of surprise was gone. “I told you I would try to help you find information on your so-called market and I did. You don’t need to pay me for that. But I will give you your names back if you do something for me.” Dīs paused to allow for some time to grow between them. “It is… somewhat dangerous, otherwise I would have done it myself ages ago, though I’m positive you’ll be fine. I would like an answer before I give you yours.”

—

“I… have friends who had the same thing happen to them. They told me about it, but not… not before you had…” He didn’t want to sound accusatory. The last thing he needed to do was upset the stranger. “It was another person, though. A man named Beau.” He frowned. “I do not like him very much, I don’t think.” That frown lingered only a moment longer before being forcibly replaced by a smile. “But that’s not you! And I like you fine. Ehm…” He lapsed into an awkward silence, listening as Dīs confirmed that the intention had always been a trade.

Something dangerous? Oh… he wasn’t very good at dangerous things. Not these days, anyway. But he needed his names back, he really did. The cowboy gave a small nod, almost an automatic reaction as he pondered his limited options, and then nodded more assertively. “Okay. I will do this… somewhat dangerous thing you need done in exchange for my names.” He held out a hand, unsure if that was even part of a deal like this, but it felt stranger not to offer.

—

Dīs rested their bearded chin against their thumb with index finger pressed to their lips as they listened to the dairy farmer speak. Oh this man was… pitiful. Something churned inside them, something akin to regret. They would never admit to it, of course, but they kind of felt bad. The job would be dangerous, sure, but the trouble would benefit them both, right? It would be worth it. There was no place here for regret. “Please. You can relax,” they started with a mild amusement that reached their eyes, “I’m not going to bite you.”

“I don’t know of this Beau and frankly, I don’t care.” A brief wave of nausea enveloped Dīs, which was evident either by the grimace they made or the sudden blinking, as if that would help to push the feeling away faster. Of course they cared. They wanted to know who this Beau was and see where a conversation would go. They were intrigued, to say the least. “And you don’t need to lie to me, either,” they rubbed the hemline of their floor-length duster as they looked over at the other man, surveying him, judging him. “Whether you like me or not, I am a fae of my word. I will not go back on it.” And if they did, there’d be a world of hurt waiting for them. There was the smallest of pauses. “Praise is always welcome, though...”

It did tickle them to be liked more, though, even if it was a lie. 

Dīs took the farmer’s hand and smiled. “I appreciate that, greatly. I give you, and your farm, your names back. Do try to hold on to them in the future, will you? Now,” they clapped both of their hands to their knees before standing to their full height, “for this marketplace of yours. You need an invitation to get in, so… I’ve invited you.” They offered Monty a shrug; fae magic was a very strange, very alive thing with its own rules. “May I join you? In case anything were to happen, of course. I’m assuming you may need backup.” It was really just curiosity in a concern labeled trench coat, but the softness that came from Monty made Dīs want to be there anyway.

—

I’m not going to bite you. Well, that was a relief, if it was truly a blanket statement for violence. “Oh, great,” he awkwardly chuckled, “I don’t think I’d taste very good.” 

Nodding quietly as they went on to explain their lack of concern with Beau, and their approval of praise, well… Monty figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to not talk about Beau and offer Dīs a  compliment now and then, if they were to be… partners of some kind. “I-I’m not lying,” he assured them after they’d shook hands, “you do seem… nice. You took my things, but you gave them back, so I guess I can’t be too upset, sí?” He’d risen to his feet as well, worrying his lip between his teeth for a moment while he considered the fae’s offer. 

“You.. want to come with?” As backup? What, like… protection? This fella was confusing, Monty had to give them that. “I mean, sure—yeah. Backup might be smart.” He offered a more genuine smile this time, feeling his proverbial hackles settling as his confusion surrounding the situation seemed to dissipate, as well as his fear of the individual standing in his living room. “I kind of… have a lot going on right now, but I will let you know as soon as I'm able to go, and we can work out a time that works for both of us.” He paused. “I appreciate you doing that for me. I just hope I can find whoever’s been sending these letters and convince them they’ve got the wrong farmer.” There was a beat of silence between them where Monty stared off into the distance looking pensive, but then he blinked and brightened as he looked back up at Dīs. “... tea?”

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: In the orbees era, around mid-June PARTIES: Dīs @disinfernus and Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Elysium Hotel SUMMARY: Inge shows up at Dīs' hotel at their invitation. They really hit it off. CONTENT WARNINGS: WRspice (last reply, suggestive). ACCOMPANIED SONG: Hotel Room Service - Pitbull

“I do have a very nice home here in town, but maybe I could check in for a night just to enjoy a whirlpool.”

Dīs had no qualms with what people did with their money or for how long they needed, or wanted, to stay. It made no difference to them, as long as they paid the bill or gave them something worthwhile, whether it was a trinket or their body, it mattered not. As long as it piqued their interest, they’d take it. Those with the intent to stay for shorter visits, however, were a little harder to crack than their more long-term counterparts — it was easier to misplace things the lengthier the stay, thus easy to pluck.

There was a slight ping, like a small flicker from a lightbulb, when the online user mentioned their own penchant for revenge. It could be nothing, sure — people liked to say all sorts of things, most with no meaning or weight. Still. Maybe it could be worth something. Usually not, but they had the time to mess about.

Check-in was between three and four in the evening, so Dīs made sure to hang around the lobby to get a first look. This could very well be the world’s most boring individual with nothing to offer, but they weren’t going to miss out on the opportunity — even risking their most prized title of ‘elusive and enigmatic’. Names were exchanged and not much else, but it was enough to pique Dīs’ attention when they’d heard the familiar moniker alight in their circular lobby walls.

“Did I hear that right?” They spoke from behind one of the lobby desks; they’d appointed themself by one of the concierges, looking every bit the supervisor that they were. “Ingeborg, was it?” A million watt smile welcomed the red-haired woman. “Hi, my name is Dīs, I believe we spoke online?”

—

Immortality could become boring, though not for Ingeborg. She acted on whim, followed spontaneous instinct and didn’t occupy herself much with things like consequence and ramifications. She was a creature without ties, anchoring herself in certain places for a while and leaving when she was done or chased out. And thus, following up on a whimsical conversation online and actually booking the hotel room was a no-brainer.

Besides, it might be that there were some nice meals in the rooms around her own. If the owner of the establishment turned out to be a sour person, maybe she’d haunt their customers a little, see if it would influence their reviews. Otherwise, she’d just leisure in a bathtub and grow pruny. Order room service. Finish her book. 

As she was checking in – a mundane and very mortal affair – things turned interesting as a tall, handsome employee addressed her. Inge’s eyes passed over him and soon enough moved herself and her small suitcase into their direction. “I believe we did, too.” 

Her hand extended to be shaken. “Good to meet you, Dīs. Much better in real life than online, hm?” Her eyes cast around the building before landing back on theirs. She had to crane her neck slightly, though she didn’t mind entirely. “A fine establishment you have here. No more orbs bothering you?”

—

Dīs’ smile softened when their hands met, with handshake firm, but not overly confident. Too much tooth could be, well — too much, especially for a first impression. The faint breath of an appreciative laugh escaped them. “You’re too kind. It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well. And no. Thankfully not,” they returned with an air of relief. There was no stopping hotel guests from bringing in the dreaded colored spheres, but they made sure to relay the message to keep an eye out for any suspected activity. Just in case. 

“They were a lot harder to remove than we originally thought, but we shouldn’t have any more issues in the future.” The next person to do it would become a permanent addition to Dīs’ collection. A physical key with a black leather tag with the room number, in gold coloring, was handed over to Ingeborg by the concierge — key fobs were detestful to program, plus they really just liked the weight of an actual, brass key.

“If you’re ready, I can walk you to your room?” Not that they needed to, they had people for that (they could feel the concierge’s gaze on the side of their face), but what harm could it be? It was an opportunity to learn something and if not, then where was the waste? Ingeborg was a beautiful woman, anyway; it wouldn’t be all for naught.

—

Their handshake was firm, their height impressive and when they spoke it was in a manner all too pleasing. Inge hummed, as if relieved as well — she supposed she was, as it was enjoyable to see the other relieved. “Well, that is good to hear. It sounded like quite the pesky problem. Pesty, almost …” She thought for a moment, the idea of those childish orbs being like actual pests. Scuttling around. A good image, maybe she’d use it one day.

She took the key, appreciating the feeling of the leather in her hands. “Thank you,” she said to the concierge before turning to Dīs. The offer to personally escort her to her room could be considered a little strange, but Inge thought no such thing. There was something appealing about the other, and besides, she wasn’t here to simply sit in one of these rooms by herself. Something had to make it more interesting. “I’d like that.” 

With the owner by her side, she navigated towards her room, tilting her head sideways and up to ask him a most pressing question: “Have you caught the perpetrator?” Cameras made it hard these days to do anything incognito, Inge knew this from personal experience. Of course, she had the ability to become close to invisible when there were shadows — humans did not. “And if so, have you thought of how you’ll make them pay?” She was half-serious, mostly wanting to know how vengeful a spirit the other was. 

—

“If they had lingered any longer they most certainly would be pesty. I didn’t think I needed to add Orbeez to our ‘do not to bring’ list and yet, here we are.” Between weapons of any kind and outside liquids, Orbeez were going to look a little out of place. They were beautiful little transparent colored spheres and their texture was actually quite pleasing — calming, almost. But they were dangerous, so Dīs couldn’t take another chance.

That ‘thank you’ thrummed within their bones, but it wasn’t meant for them. No, their staff consisted entirely of humans, so the ever tantalizing appreciation went completely over the concierge’s head. Ah well. Dīs surmised they might feel a little guilty anyway at having entrapped someone as interesting as Ingeborg. They wanted to see what else lingered in her mind. 

Dīs lifted a brow in response to the sound of her voice as she asked her question, not unlike a dog would at a sudden and inquisitive noise. They offered her a rather cheeky smile as they walked the hallway towards her assigned room. “He was given up by his employer.” It was a pretty humorous situation, one that came from complete worry on the employer's part, which they could understand, but for him?  “We struck a deal that would keep him out of harm’s way — for now.” It was all said in jest with humor evident, but they spoke the truth. 

Dīs didn’t take kindly to their belongings being messed with, even if it was something as stupid as a pool and jacuzzi. It was still theirs. “I do have something in mind, but.. We shall see.”

—

“Humanity will always surprise you with the kinds of rules that are necessary,” Inge said, avoiding saying humans as if she didn’t count herself among them. She didn’t, but that didn’t mean she didn’t dabble with those on the mortal and natural ends of life, and as of right now Dīs had not yet proven to be anything but. “For your comfort and continued success, I hope this isn’t one anyone will be insistent on breaking.” 

They were all sharp features — from the chiseled shape of their jaw, the pointiness of ears and nose, the cut of their beard. Inge took it in with appreciation before leveling her gaze forward again, taking in the hotel and home for the night. She wouldn’t spend a second sleeping here, so it was crucial to know what else there was to entertain her besides this mysterious owner. Lest she get bored and add to the rumors of this place being haunted by scaring half of the patrons for snacks, after all.

“His employer? You’ll have to expand …” One of her eyebrows raised, head cocking back into their direction as she twirled the key in her hand. Inge let her lips spread in a small smile, head turning back now as a sound of amusement escaped her. “For now, hmmm. What is it you had in mind? Or is whatever deal you made satisfactory enough?”

Inge checked her room number and pressed the elevator button for up, readjusting the strap of her overnight bag as she halted. “Also, please satiate my curiosity — I’ve heard whispers this place is haunted. Is it true?” She did hope it was and she didn’t much bother to hide her eagerness.

—

“Rules for toddlers,” they returned simply. To them, at least, that statement wasn’t completely untrue. Humans were about that age to them — actually, even younger. Babies, even, but babies behaved better than the majority of humankind did. To her, as far as they knew, it would only be a sarcastic quip. “I hope not, either. That’s very kind of you.”

Dīs did not miss the linger of gaze as they turned their attention from her back to the hallway ahead. They were used to others staring. Their entire outward appearance, from their getup to their long hair, seemed to elicit curiosities. It was a lot to take in. “She saw my post regarding the whole … issue and messaged me privately about considering other punishments instead of legal action.” They lifted a shoulder. “Just a little fright, that’s all. I’m still working out the details.” Whatever it was, it would be nightmare inducing. The kid should get the point.

They lifted a brow and smiled before stepping into the elevator once its doors slid open. Their hand immediately went to stop the doors from closing, as if Ingeborg didn’t have enough time to get onto the platform. Her enthusiasm was endearing. “I’d like to think so, yes.” The elevator started its ascent with a ding. “We do have our fair share of skeptics that stay with us, hoping to debunk our claims. While they are wasting their time, I get their money regardless.”

— 

She let out a sound of amusement at that statement, almost a laugh. Inge wasn’t above a bit of childish behavior herself and the idea of bringing orbeez to a hotel was funny to her still — but the other’s assessment was tickling, too. “Maybe you should make a little time-zone spot for your naughty guests too, then.”

A little fright. It seemed the other was a person after her own heart, and she nodded appreciatively. “A tattletale boss, now that’s a horrid thing to have. Glad you got your answer, though and … well, if you’d like to brainstorm fitting repercussions, I’ve got plenty of time now that I’m on a little holiday.” About half an hour from her own place, if she were to go by car. She slipped into the elevator after them, watching the doors close before turning to her own reflection for a moment.

“Hm, I mean … capitalizing on such rumors seems like a fair enough thing to do. I hope the ghosts don’t mind being exploited,” she said. Inge hoped to see some ghosts tonight, but wasn’t readily giving up the information that she was able to see those dead things caught between planes. “Above all, I hope the skeptics get proven wrong. Closed mindedness is such a dull trait, don’t you think?” The elevator doors slid open and she exited, looking at Dīs over her shoulder. They really were striking. “How busy are you today?”

—

“Ah, that’s not a bad idea. I believe malls have those in their loss prevention offices. I think I have a few places I could put one of those.. A sort of jail, if you will. Maybe a time-out will do them all some good.” They certainly liked the way she thought; not many fell into step so easily or even lead the charge so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Giving them up with the hope that the punishment would be less severe… A useful tactic, in the right circumstance. It’s not the first time I’ve seen it, though I doubt it will be the last. Hm.. I may take you up on that offer.” Their own desire for revenge, as it were, could easily be waved off as a stereotypical reaction from someone who owned and ran a casino/hotel combination. There was a lot to lose when it came to gambling, a lot of money, a lot of power, so it made sense for the intimidating owner to be a little prickly. “I have a feeling you may have some good suggestions.”

Dīs offered her a shrug. “I find it to be a… Fair trade. They scare some guests away, but bring in others.” Those novice ghost hunters tended to neglect the casino’s services, losing them money the other patrons would have given, had they not been scared away. But they had figured out a way to supplement and that meant higher rates, taxes, etc. Anything that they could get away with, they utilized. It was all just a fun game when it came down to it. They smiled at her. Admiration was avoidable. “I do, yes. It can be quite the killer.”

They carried themself out of the elevator behind Ingeborg with a glance down each side of the hallway. It was dark there, comfortable. Maintenance had a tendency to ‘forget’ about replacing the lightbulbs. A common negative among reviewers, but it made for perfect cover. Her question felt like a lead, a tether thrown out and wiggled for them to grab onto. Was there a hook at the other end? “Not terribly,” Dīs returned with a hum. “There is a meeting I’ve scheduled, but truthfully, it can be an email if I wanted. Why do you ask?”

—

Time-outs weren’t always as effective as one might like, this Inge knew from having seen a child grow from toddlerhood into young adulthood. But it was always an option to try. “You could call it a place of reflection, make it seem like something more zen than it actual is. People don’t like punishment, but they love the idea of self care.”

She hummed in thought, thinking that in some situations a tactic as such might work. She would never utilize it, though: Inge lied and ran, in the face of accusation, didn’t give herself or others up so easily. “Ah, well, did it work out for them? Or are you planning your revenge?” Her lips spread a little, a shoulder lifting as if she was dismissing their comment, an aw shucks of sorts. “I’m a creative, you know. Not just in my work, but in all areas of life. I can think of some interesting way to resolve this.”

Scared customers, now that was intriguing to her. It would be bad for the other’s business, should she start bothering some people with nightmares, but it wasn’t as if Inge felt an obligation to the other just yet. “I think a hotel with rumored ghosts is the best kind of hotel. Why people would opt to stay in a place that isn’t rumored to be haunted …” She shook her head, tsk-ing in disapproval. “I’ll let you know if I come across any ghosts tonight.” Maybe she could be considered one, with the way she had died four decades ago. But the other needn’t know that.

The darkness was welcoming, a comforting cloak for a creature made for shadows. That this was something she had in common with the owner was something she didn’t know just yet. Inge let go of subtlety as they asked that question, lifting a shoulder once more. “I could use some company, and you seem to be the most interesting around thus far. I’d like to get to know you more.” She pulled her suitcase to her, letting it stand next to her legs as she paused in front of the door corresponding with her key. “We could brainstorm ideas of payback?”

—

Dīs couldn’t help the sound of immediate approval at her expanded suggestion. Oh, that was clever. “Your ideas continue to surprise me,” they returned with a smile too giddy for their liking. “I will have to give that a try for next time. I know it will work on some of the more VIP members and perhaps those that function with minimal brain cells. I’ll let you know how successful it is.”

Her question elicited a brief and slight tilt of their head, as if the angle difference would help with thinking. She seemed wholly the type invested in acts of revenge and although they didn’t really know every minute inflection or ulterior word of humans in general they had a feeling that this wasn’t just a facade or play. It seemed genuine. It made them want to divulge in her, to confide.

“I’m still deciding. They did do a good job at removing all of the little orbs, after all,” Dīs gave a shrug; maybe they should just leave the kid with the discouraging look and manual labor and not take it a step further. But humans were self-centered, disgusting little creatures and the act of defacing their property still irritated them even after the fact. Even after it had been rectified. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

“If you can help me think of something… good, I may be inclined to change my mind.” Their mind wasn’t yet made up, not completely, but they knew that showing grace and mercy could be valuable. Still, they didn’t like it when their things were touched. Dīs had to offer her a chuckle at the ghost comment. “For rest, I would assume,” they returned a bit humorously. “They all want to live their boring, uneventful lives, unfortunately.” For being so short, they really did prefer the mundane. It was a little sad — but they supposed they couldn’t scoff at it too much, lest they be too big of a hypocrite to handle. “I look forward to hearing about your findings, if they do happen.”

Company. And then the suggestion of payback. While that meeting definitely could be as simple as an email sent out to any of the department heads, they really shouldn’t be spending all that much time in a guest’s room. But they didn’t follow those silly little human rules and truthfully, how were they supposed to turn her invitation down? That would be rude. They would take it as a little rude, so they gave her a little nod in reply after a beat of thought. Despite their amicable and pleasant smile, their fingers did twiddle with excess energy behind his back.

“That does sound far better than my meeting.. Alright. I would be happy to join you. And for the help.”

—

Inge was glad to get their approval, no matter how much she’d prefer to insist she didn’t need other people’s approval. There was something magnetic about the hotel owner, wasn’t there? “I would argue that VIP members function with minimal brain cells,” she suggested, giving a small grin. “There’s plenty where that came from, though.”

That was one thing, she figured. If someone had brought those little orbs into her studio, she would have made their nights a living hell. Her sleepers were not often picked out of a personal vendetta, but exceptions could be made if her spaces were defaced and round. It was important, wasn’t it, for all creatures and persons to have a place to call their own, untouched and undirtied by the hands of others? It certainly was to her.

“Well, I’ll try and sway you towards revenge, then. For someone to have messed with your property, well — I don’t think that should be so easily let go. And them cleaning up behind them is just the bare minimum, isn’t it?” Inge didn’t mind instigating some chaos. This wasn’t truly about justice, after all, even if she thought that letting the culprit off so easily was a little boring. It was about her endless boredom that required attention. 

She laughed at their joke, lifting her shoulders. “Sure, I’ll give that to you. Maybe I’m just incapable of understanding such a thing — wanting an uneventful life.” Mortals only had so much time on this plane of existence, so why waste it with nothing but dull things? It was hard for her to remember that she had once been much like them, preferring a slow and steady life and inching away from any hint at there being something more out there besides God. The idea of ghosts had terrified a younger, more alive Inge, but that was so long ago now that it might as well be fiction.

She opened the door before waiting for their answer, perhaps with unearned confidence or just to signal that she would find a way to enjoy herself regardless. But when they said alright, her non-beating heart did metaphorically skip a beat with relief and excitement, eyes flashing over her shoulder as she parked her suitcase. Soon enough Inge was looking into her room, tastefully decorated and – as of yet – lacking in ghosts. It mattered little, as there was something else of interest in the room with her.

And so soon enough there was a toast of glasses, words of mischief exchanged, a song playing in the background. A hand on her tigh, a hand on their chest, a finger underneath a chin. And then, the press of a body into a mattress, clothes discarded on the floor and plans of payback abandoned, for now. 

[scavengedlegacy]

Is this your bunny?

Are you planning on keeping it?

[disinfernus]

Star light, Star bright

TIMING: early november. LOCATION: wormwoods, between wormrow and downtown. PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @disinfernus SUMMARY: dis steals from a corpse (i'm not dead yet!) and araidne stumbles upon them. she's rightfully concerned! CONTENT: none!

Dīs was never quite sure of what they might come across during an evening walk. It was always quite the mystery, but that made the usually quiet leisurely exercise exciting. There was the prospect of walking away with a treasure, after all, and that thought alone was enough to keep the night strolls to an almost daily schedule. 

That night had been a little different. The pendant that came to be in their possession came from a corpse that was not quite dead yet. A surprise, considering how still they lay amidst the clovers. The clearing sat fairly close to public view and up along the forest edge. The grass was trodden; people definitely used this trail. How did the body get here? What caused this? And why were they still alive? Ah well, it made no difference to them. The body was a waste but their golden valuable held tenderly against breastbone would have to do. 

The blood was — the blood was a lot. Whatever did it likely couldn’t be too far, so Dīs started to turn on heel, to leave the dying man and clean up their new treasure — and their clothes. The human’s red was hidden within the darkness of their top, but there was plenty on their hands to make them look guilty.

She should have been in bed with Wynne, but Ariadne also knew that she had to probably let them have some kind of space. It was only reasonable for the both of them. Wasn’t it? 

Shaking any doubts from her mind, she made her way around the edge of the forest, breathing in the cool night air, trying to ground herself. Or something. What she hadn’t expected was to look up and see with her (unfortunately) perfect vision. Which did mean, though, that she saw someone with red on their hands.

For a moment, Ariadne wondered if red gloves were suddenly in fashion (she wasn’t sure who she was supposed to ask to confirm this), except that the red seemed far too scattered and far too wet for it to be gloves. Which meant it was blood, wasn’t it? She recoiled for a moment, but she couldn’t just run away, could she? Cass was a hero, and so maybe she could help save somebody, somehow.

“Uh, hey.” She tried to make herself taller, fighting the urge to shrink into herself. “What are you up to out here, so late, uh, yeah?”

They saw the young woman before they heard her speak. Their hands busied themselves within the folds of their coat, hoping to rid themself of the evidence. It was dark out — very dark out, except for the light of the moon. Silhouettes dared to disappear completely within pockets of shadow.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dīs returned casually and tried to keep their voice light without any hint of defensiveness. They weren’t sure of how successful they were; the question itself raised a red flag, of course. Who else but the guilty turned the question back like that?

A brief silence fell after their query, but they hurried to fill it quickly with a secondary answer, one to hopefully placate any potential suspicions. Not that she should be suspicious, of course — the man was already dying when they got there. “I’m on a walk… I don’t sleep very well. I’m assuming that is why you’re out here as well?” 

“That’s true – you could ask me that! You probably should!” Because she was a monster, but at the same time, Ariadne very much did not want this man to ask her what she was doing or what she was, as a matter of fact, at all. “I – please – um, don’t?” Which probably wasn’t the best thing to say, if she wanted to throw off suspicion.

“Yes. That is why!” She wasn’t sure if she’d ever come off this enthusiastic in her talking, but maybe, right now, she had to. Had to do something to show that she wasn’t actually some terrifying freakish monster. Or that it made sense for someone who still looked like a teenager (and, Ariadne supposed, technically was – being nineteen-almost-twenty when she died and all) to be wandering around at night. “Awful bout of chronic insomnia.” She shrugged. “But I – your hands? Are you okay?”

Dīs furrowed their brows down. Now it was their turn to feel suspicion. Could they turn this around and get out without much issue? Doubtful. There would have to be some tricky word play and the right beats to hit for them to avoid lingering in her memories. The shadows could take them easily, but there was something else there beneath the catching light of the moon that gave them pause. Flashes of red, vivid like rubies, broke through the inky black darkness.

Curious. “Insomnia seems to be a popular blight in Wicked’s Rest.” Not for them, of course — being nocturnal had its perks. “It’s a bit.. Late, though, don’t you think? To be out by yourself. Most wouldn’t dare it.” Most were humans too fearful of the terrors that hid behind the treeline and in the caves. The ones that did dare tended to be those same terrors. Dīs curled their hands in, fingers having rubbed against each other with discomfort. They kept their arms to their sides now, bathed in shadow. She already caught sight of the blood, but maybe if they kept them out of the limelight, they’d fade away into obscurity. 

“I’m.. I’m going home now, to wash this off. I don’t have a cloth with me.” Keep it obscure, keep it vague. “I’ll be alright, though.” Their shadow, a beautiful thing, stretched itself eagerly and slipped, blanket-like over the now lifeless corpse. The dark would hide it well if she didn’t look hard enough, but those eyes — if she was what they assumed, the darkness would be pointless.

“Yes, I’m not some sort of scientist or doctor or anything but there does seem to be a lot of that here.” Ariadne wondered if she could be considered an insomniac, now, given that she didn’t physically have to sleep. It seemed as though it was something that deserved a category of its own.

It was late, and Ariadne faked a yawn, hoping maybe they hadn’t seen her eyes. “It is late, you’re right, but it’s also beautiful, so I suppose I just got caught up in that?” At least she was trying to find a new perspective on the beauty of the night, because it wasn’t exactly something that came so easily, now. It used to be easy to adore everything the night had to offer, and she still loved the stars and the way the air felt, but being so much a part of the night wasn’t something that sat too easily with her.

“You can borrow uh, a handkerchief.” If she had one. Which she hoped she did. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Ariadne looked up at him with wide eyes, forgoing the hope that they hadn’t seen her eyes. If they hadn't commented yet, then maybe it was alright?

Insomnia didn’t come to those that were dead, at least that was what they assumed the young woman was — dead. Or rather, undead. They weren’t well versed in what species hid in the cornucopia that was Wicked’s Rest, but they knew of one other who’s eyes behaved the same. Assumptions, though, could be disastrous — and at worst, deadly. She didn’t seem the type to kill, though again, a downed guard could spell tragedy for the nymph.

“Perhaps that’s the reason for so many who lack sleep: they can’t bear to look away?” They questioned, rhetorical in nature, but it did have its merit — the city was a strange one, filled with magic and decay. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch if it lured people in that way, with its inescapable beauty. “You should go home, though. The night is as beautiful as it is dangerous.” It wasn’t just what lurked within the shadows that could cause harm — it was the shadows themselves.

The offer was kind, but would it help to get them out of there sooner rather than later? A gamble. That’s all this interaction was. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to mess anything of yours up. Yes, yes… I’ll be fine.” Their questioning on whether or not the girl was dead or not should have been geared towards the body that lay behind them, hidden in the dark, but not quite dead yet. A pained, but low sounding, moan escaped the confines of the shadow, giving attention to something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

“That’s – very possible, yes, I agree.” Ariadne pulled her arms around her body. “The night is beautiful, and I always used to go stargazing with my parents, so…” Their question hadn’t needed any sort of answer, but she’d answered anyway, in part because she was worried about seeming rude. Yes, even to a stranger that she’d run into in the middle of the woods. Which might’ve not been the best idea, but said stranger was being relatively accepting of her strange behavior, so she’d happily take that energy and run with it. She liked making people feel safe, and had a distinct lack of ability to do that as often now as she’d used to.

“You should go too. I don’t want you to get into danger, either.” They seemed nice, even if there was the whole unexplained blood on their hands. Also yes – it’s fine, I can always wash it, or find something else to do with it.” Ariadne did her best to not hop around too anxiously. Then there was a moaning from somewhere, and her immediate response was, “I didn’t do that!” Because of course she was a monster, and she was capable of horrible things, but this hadn’t been her. “I – did you hear that, I mean?”

Dīs couldn’t help the feeling that she was deliberately following close behind, conversationally speaking, but she didn’t seem to pose as much of a threat - if at all - so they didn’t really mind. She seemed more nervous than they did, truthfully. “Do you still stargaze on your own?” They heard themself ask as they started to close the gap between them, their intent to lead them away from the death that lingered.

“Then come, no sense in persisting here any longer.” No, Dīs didn’t want to leave yet, not with the body still exposed. Once they were a certain distance away, the shadows would recede, making their crime visible to all that passed by. They’d have to circle back after she was gone to take care of the corpse, but they weren’t sure how long that would be. Would the body still be there afterward? The lampade gave pause in their efforts in cleaning the blood off their hands once she was certain it was alright for them to do so.

Dīs pursed their lips. They had already stepped ahead of the young woman, maybe a step or two. The idea of her being in closer proximity to the body made them feel uneasy. “Hear what?” It wasn’t a “no”, so the hurt was avoided for now, but it meant further investigation on either her part or theirs. “What do you mean, you didn’t do it?” They asked instead, hoping the change in topic would pull her attention away. 

“Sometimes I do, yeah!” Maybe the added nod was a bit too enthusiastic, but it was genuine, and Ariadne figured that that was what mattered, right? She told herself the answer to that was yes, if only to further comfort herself. “It’s nice to be reminded of what makes the night so beautiful.” She needed more reminders now that she was part of the night, and a very bad part of the night at that. 

She nodded to their remark. “Coming, yeah.” Ariadne began to walk alongside them, though they were tall (even compared to her – not that she was tall tall, just tall-ish tall), and she thought that she had to make a certain effort to keep up with them, but that wasn’t so bad at all. It was almost nice, even if she did feel a certain sense of nerves, all bundled up and confusing. Her perfect night-vision cut through the dark of the forest, though she was far more interested in the person next to her than whatever else was going on.

It was a certain thrill, to not be absolutely terrified. Not that Ariadne wasn���t scared at all, but to, at least in this one (possibly brief) moment, be able to look around a dark forest in awe was pretty incredible. “I – nothing. I don’t know, I thought I heard something.” She straightened up, fully intent on playing the part of not scared at all, even if that brief moment had been just that – brief. Far too ephemeral. “I didn’t make the noise is what I mean. There’s nothing else for me to not have done. I don’t think. Right?” She looked up at them.

Ever since they’d been ejected from the safety of their catacombs, they found the distant twinkling of the white and gold stars to be comforting. They liked the way they looked to be permanently pressed into the velvet sky. Some would shoot across, of course, but the constant ones were nice to look at. They were grounding, in a way.

“No,” Dīs returned, almost a little too defensively at first, “you can not see the stars during the day, can you? Not without one of those… telescopes.” The lampade gave a sweeping glance across the dark, navy black curtain that hung over the earth. “The stars don’t make the night beautiful. The night makes them beautiful.” They softened their tone, but they weren’t about to let space rocks and gas take the credit for their own splendor.

She thought she heard something; that wasn’t exactly comforting, but the forest was also full of creatures and flora that could have potentially made that sound. They couldn’t risk her wanting to head back, in case her curiosity overwrote her fear, unless she was actually really cool with murder. “No, you’re fine,” Dīs placated, or at least tried to. “The woods are alive, it would be foolish to think we are alone.” Other than the very real human body that rested some feet from them, there were plenty else to keep them company.

“Do you live far from here?”

“You can’t.” She responded immediately, not even having to think about any of it for a moment. Because she’d used to beg her parents to let her see stars at all times, and they’d explained how even though they existed during the day, the sun was the only one you could properly see at that time. Which had disappointed Ariadne, but only given her more of an appreciation for what she could see at night. 

Now, though, the stars were not nearly as comforting as they’d been in her childhood, no matter how much Ariadne did still have an immense fondness for them. She’d made every active effort she could to ensure that she did still find comfort in them. She was part of the night now, and it made sense in some sort of desperately confusing way, that she’d be even more connected to the stars now than she ever was before. “Ah, well, I guess that kind of makes sense.” She shrugged. “I think the two of them magnify each one’s beauty, maybe? But like obviously to each their own, I’m not disagreeing with you at all though!! Just so we’re like, super duper clear.” She didn’t want to make them annoyed or frustrated or anything even remotely close to any of that.

“Ha! So true.” Ariadne winced at how fake her own voice sounded, but there was no use in backtracking now. “I suppose that’s both alarming and a comfort, to know you can go into the woods and never really be alone. There’s some musical song about that.” She shook her head. “That’s not important. I – yeah, well ish. I live in an apartment Downtown with my cousin.” She paused. “How about you?”

They knew that, but stating so would be like beating a dead horse and they wanted to get her away from the murderous evidence as quickly as possible. They figured keeping their mouth shut was the best way to do that. Her need to placate wasn’t lost on Dīs, but they couldn’t be sure if it was because of the situation or if that was just her. They would store that information for later, just in case. 

A hum escaped them in response to her; of course they didn't agree with her, but they did have their own fixed sockets in their head that emitted the most radiant light. It would be hypocritical of them not to acknowledge their own light source. Two stars lost in a pool of black ink. They had to wonder if their light was stronger than that of celestial bodies. 

“It’s an opinion.. You’re allowed to have it. Even if I don’t share it.”

Dīs offered her a nod. “It is the way it has been and the way it always will be.” Cryptic, but one would be hard pressed not to find a pair of eyes fixed on you in the woods. There were all manner of beasts that called it home, some more deadly than the others. “Wormrow,” the truth, but not the entirety of it. “So, I suppose that means we are on opposite sides of this wood. It’s fine.” They waved off as they continued onward. “I will walk you there, if you’d like. Or to the street - or to any sign of civilization. I know the Whye River has a better view of the stars than these trees do.”

At least they seemed receptive to her back-and-forth behavior – whatever it could really be called. The two of them were talking about stars and Ariadne was, on top of all that, doing her absolute best to think about all the good things about nighttime, rather than the very many scary and otherwise alarming things. Which she was part of. But she wasn’t going to feed on the other person right by her, she wasn’t even hungry (though the growl of her stomach said otherwise), and soon they’d both be on their ways. 

Whatever sound she’d heard must have not been anything important, or even anything at all.

“Oh, you don’t have to share it! That’s fine! Everyone sees things differently and thinks about things differently and I wouldn’t wanna make somebody feel like they had to think the same way that I do.” Which was likely far too much to say, but Ariadne had already said it, and so that was that.

She knew Wormrow from Wynne, and she hoped that this person was also staying safe, because she also knew Wormrow from growing up in town and how it wasn’t always so safe. “I think I’d like that.” Especially because they didn’t seemed bothered by the red glow of her eyes, and they probably-maybe knew this forest better than she did, at least at the moment. “Lead the way.”

“I didn’t think that was your intention,” they returned with assurance. They didn’t think she had any, really, other than to enjoy the evening out when it was them that she ran into. She wasn’t the one with blood on her hands. They did think she was wrong, though. “It’s… Nice to know, though.” Not everyone they knew subscribed to her way of thinking; they’d endured them for too long. Dīs was glad their walking partner was better than that.

The lampade nodded, grateful she was keen to leave the woods instead of linger. Not many people would be that trusting with someone they had just met, especially where there were more feral things than conscious beings. Her eyes told them she could probably hold her own, though, that she was more than the fragile nature of humans. “Just this way, then,” Dīs directed. They carried themself slowly to keep with the young woman, happy to point out and talk about the stars that littered the clear, dark sky. 

Even though they needed to head in the other direction, they figured the forest could have the body left there. A thanks, in a way, for letting them out with nothing but chit chat and cool air.