#franklyfrankiesfolklore

[eliaskahtri]

I'm Just Like You (You're Just Like Me) || Elias & Frankie

LOCATION: Vicker's Beach TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Elias (@eliaskahtri) & Frankie (@franklyfrankiesfolklore) SUMMARY: Elias finds a cursed shell on the beach. Frankie checks on him to see if he's okay. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Ever since Elias learned the truth about selkies, he’d become curious to spot one for himself. Sure, he could just ask Marcus, but where was the fun in that? So that’s how he found himself on Vicker’s Beach with a pair of binoculars in the dead of winter. After several minutes of nothing but waves, Elias ditched the binoculars. He looked around the beach and spotted a conch shell and perked up. Maybe the trip out to the beach easn’t a total loss after all. He picked up the large shell and dusted the sand off of it, then put it up to his ear. As soon as he did, an eerie chanting emanated from the shell in a language he couldn’t comprehend. He blinked, listening harder. Something about it made him more sucked into it. Before he knew it, he was stuck listening to the shell with the rest of the world completely tuned out to him. 

That’s when someone tapped him on his shoulder, only to realize that he’d found himself curled up in the fetal position listening to this cursed conch shell. Elias blinked, not remembering getting down on the ground like that. “Oh, sorry I…” he blinked, realizing that he had absolutely no explanation for his actions. “I think I just found a cursed conch.” He explained, hoisting up the shell towards the stranger with a frown. He got up off of the sandy ground and began brushing himself off. “I swear, I’m not usually… doing that.” Elias’s frown deepened, realizing how all of this must appear. “It… just listen to the shell, please.” He held out the shell for the stranger to take, hoping that they’d hear the same eerie chanting that he did.

There were a finite number of places in Wicked’s Rest that Frankie felt safe. Safe was a fairly relative term for her. For example, Nightfall Grove had been firmly scratched off her list of quote-unquote safe places after about the third time she’d very nearly become someone’s dinner. Or breakfast, she supposed, since the people that crawled around that particular part of town were most likely nocturnal.  

Based on the amount of folklore associated with the sea and the things that lurked beneath the waves, one would think that Frankie would immediately write such a place off. But she hadn’t had a bad time at the beach yet. So until that inevitable and unfortunate day, she would continue to enjoy the beaches of Wicked’s Rest. She was beginning to question that decision though, since there was currently a man in the sand completely engrossed in a shell of all things. Going through her mental folklore rolodex, she couldn’t think of anything bad in association with conch shells- in fact she was fairly certain they were considered sacred in certain traditions, the sound they emitted when blown upon was said to cleanse evil energies. But for Wicked’s Rest that would have to be one big ass fucking conch shell to cleanse all of the energy the town had to offer. Before she could think better of it, she tapped the stranger on the shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

And then he said ‘cursed’ and ‘listen to the shell’ within a minute of each other and Frankie took several large steps back. “I’m sorry, you usually lead a conversation with ‘Hi, nice to meet you my name is xyz’, not ‘hi there listen to this definitely cursed conch shell I stumbled across so you can be cursed too’.”

____ 

Elias frowned, realizing how he most likely came off to the stranger and threw the shell into the sand. “Never mind, that’s a stupid thing to say,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’m Elias, I just…” he looked toward the conch, then frowned. “I guess it had more of a pull than I thought.” He looked toward the throng of seagulls on the other side of the beach. “Thanks for checking to make sure I was okay.” 

He brushed off the last of the sand, smiling awkwardly. “I uh, usually don’t go around looking for cursed objects.” He spoke, realizing that was more of a lie than he was willing to admit. “I was… actually whale watching.” He spoke, gesturing to the binoculars that were long forgotten in the sand. “Sorry, I’ll… I can go.” He murmured, not sure how to make the situation any less uncomfortable for the stranger than he’d already managed to make it. 

Frankie immediately felt like an asshole. She wished she could snatch the words out of the air and chuck them out to sea for some sea monster to feast on. The poor man looked embarrassed, and there was something about the dejected expression on his face that he hurried to tuck behind a smile that reminded her of a kicked puppy. 

“Hi Elias,” she said, trying to inject as much kindness and friendly energy as humanly possible without sounding like she’d suddenly lost her mind. “I’m Frankie.” She eyed the discarded seashell warily, as though it were about to spring into action and launch itself at her. “You don’t have to go-“ she hurried to say. “What makes you think it’s cursed?” She asked, genuinely curious as the wheels began turning in her head as she tried to unravel the puzzle of the potentially cursed seashell.

Elias wasn’t sure how to make the situation any worse, but then Frankie asked the one question that could absolutely do that for him. He turned around slowly, afraid to meet her eyes. “It, uh…” he bit down on his lower lip, contemplating the ramifications of his actions. “It was chanting in an unknown language.” He explained, watching as the seagulls seemed to grow closer to them. “I don’t have food!” He told the gulls, which only squawked at him in return. 

He turned around and picked the shell back up again, dusting the sand off before holding it to his ear. The chanting started immediately, unknowable and most certainly some kind of bad omen. “Yep! Definitely cursed.” He decided, tossing it into the sand in front of him. “Nope! No thanks.”

Frankie frowned sitting down cross legged in the sand, a healthy distance from the apparently cursed conch, and fished a notebook and pen from her bag. Clicking the purple pin rapidly, she looked back up at Elias. “Interesting- an unknown language you said? Are you sure it’s not just a language you’re unfamiliar with? Or was it more along the lines of ‘eldritch horror from the abyss’ sort of whisperings?”

The woman watched on as the man picked up the shell to listen to it a moment longer before chucking it back down on to the sand before him. “Did anything change that time from the first time you listened to it?” Frankie asked as she shooed off a seagull that was beginning to draw too close to her. 

____

He watched as the woman fished a notebook out of her bag. She was… entertaining this? Elias blinked. “Definitely the eldritch horror end of the spectrum,” Elias nodded. “Didn’t sound like Latin or anything like that.” He waved a hand as he dismissed the idea. “I don’t know, it was just… weird. I was listening to it one second, then felt this weird pull to it, and the next thing I knew, you found me curled up in the sand, listening to the shell. I have no idea how much time has passed.”

“The chant seemed to pick up where it left off from the last time I listened to it.” He answered her, still not sure why she was suddenly so interested in what he had to say after harshly dismissing him, and rightfully so. “There a reason you’re writing all of this down?” Elias finally asked with a furrowed brow.

Frankie nodded, scribbling notes to herself as she examined the shell from afar. “Eldritch… variety….” She mumbled to herself as she dragged pen across paper. The woman looked up at him curiously. “Do you know what time you came to the beach? And how much time passed between then and when you found the shell? Even a rough estimate would be good.”

Her focus shifted back to her notes, nodding slowly as he kept talking. Her pen stopped at the question, and Frankie looked up at him. “Research. Wouldn’t you like an answer to if the shell is cursed, and if it is cursed what sort of ramifications that might have? And if there’s historical precedence for cursed shells and what happened to those people who touched those shells?”

——-

Elias felt his jaw drop as the woman began to take notes. She was… going to research this? He needed to befriend her immediately, he felt like he finally met someone who cares to know the why of the strange things that happened in this town. “Where have you been all my life?” Elias spoke, sitting in the sand across from her. “I mean, I’ve never… no one wants to know why! They just want to pretend it isn’t happening or think I’m crazy!”

“I came around noon.” He finally answered, checking his phone. “Shit, it’s two?” Elias blinked, has time really gone by that fast? How long was he lying there? “Of course I want to know why it’s cursed and the ramifications! There’s this yogurt place that gives out cursed yogurt that I’m dying to know the answer behind! But people would rather I stay away than find out why!”

_

Frankie blinked. “Um… here mostly?” She replied with a shrug before laughing. “I’m getting a doctorate in folklore and occult studies. Random cursed shit is kind of my jam.” She said, tapping the end of her pen against the page. Frankie didn’t feel the need to get into why she’d chosen that particular field to specialize in. Not when he was giving her answers. 

“Alright, so time passing might be a bit of an issue to contend with here- I’m sorry did you say cursed yogurt?” Frankie paused, looking up at him. She ripped a page from her notebook and scribbled CURSED: DO NOT TOUCH on it before staking it to the ground beside the shell with a twig. She stood up, looking all too serious for a conversation that was about to shift to the topic of frozen desserts. “Where?”

———

Elias grinned, suddenly excited to hear about her studies. “That’s so cool!” He exclaimed, leaning forward a bit. “You’ll have to tell me more about it; that’s really interesting.” He jumped up from the sand, suddenly full of energy. 

“Yeah, it’s in the downtown area.” He answered as he watched her stick a paper warning people about the shell into the sand. “I think that’ll just encourage some people,” he told her with a raise of his hand. “There’s this hooded figure that will only make deals in nonmonetary items. He stole my robotic dog.” Elias frowned, remembering Waltito fondly. “I went there with a friend of mine and something… overtook my vision. Like it was trying to capture me.” He frowned, recalling the information. “Then, I brought someone else, and the same thing happened. These war drums sounded and these tendrils reached out to grab me every time I closed my eyes.”

Frankie paused, wrapping her head around his description of the frozen yogurt place from hell. It sounded like what hell would be if it froze over. She groaned, rubbing at her eyes, torn between the desire to figure out what the fuck was going on with the yogurt place and her desire to live another day. 

“Sorry to hear about your robot dog- how big is this hooded figure? And other than the hellish sounding situations you described was there anything else weird? Anything… I don’t know, critter-ish?” Frankie was doing her level best not to say seen any monsters lately, but it was always difficult when conversations drifted toward the absurd. 

———-

Elias had to think about that for a minute. “Uh, taller than me? Maybe six and a half feet?” He shrugged, not really having paid much attention to the figure. Only that he wasn’t able to see his face with the hood over their face. There was a moment of curiosity that struck at Elias’s core, he wanted to know what this woman knew. “You know about… monsters, don’t you.” He finally said after getting over his nerves to even ask her in the first place. “You know, like… creatures that go bump in the night and like to attack?” 

He felt silly even saying it, but he had to know. If there was someone else that was just normal like him that wanted to understand more of what was going on, he had to take the risk. Besides, Frankie probably already thought he was weird for trying to make her listen to the shell in the first place, right?

Frankie started rattling through her mental Rolodex of folkloric figures who fit the description. Death was the most notable. But she had to hope the actual grim reaper wasn’t rolling up to a froyo shop to make deals with unsuspecting mortals for i-fido. Charon took coins in exchange for passage- but people eating frozen yogurt weren’t looking for passage across the River Styx. Unless the fro yo shop was a front for the underworld. She was so lost in her string of hypotheticals that she almost missed the question. 

The woman paused before slowly looking up at Elias. “Holy shit,” she muttered, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. Her stoic expression broke out into an absolutely ecstatic smile. He knew! Someone who knew! Frankie was practically vibrating with excitement as she gestured to the scars that littered her face and arms. “Yes I know about monsters!” She exclaimed, sounding far too excited about the existence of things that seemed to have a preferred pastime of trying to kill her. “You know about monsters?!?”

——-

Elias’s eyes went wide with delight as Frankie lit up with enthusiasm. Finally, he wasn’t alone! There was someone who knew about them and wasn’t one themselves! “Yeah, I learned not that long ago.” He explained, beginning to pace around a little. “Thought I was going crazy, but then the people around me, they’re not human. And I just want to know more.” 

He stopped pacing, looking to Frankie with a new expression, one of understanding and a sense of camaraderie. “You’re… like me. Aren’t you?” He finally asked, hope shining in his eyes for the first time in so long. For the first time in this town, there was someone that understood Elias’s desperate need to understand. To get to the bottom of things instead of pretending it wasn’t happening. 

_

He looked at her like he knew her. Like he understood her. But the choice of words gave her pause. Like me… did he think she was something. She took a hesitant step back, fishing her emergency holy water from her bag. “You’re human, right? Because if you’re lying and this is all some manipulative ass mind game long con to eat me, I will douse you in so much salt and holy water that you’ll be twins with the wicked witch of the west under a minute, I swear.” 

“But,” she continued as she uncoiled, trying to resemble a friendly face instead of a rattlesnake. “If you mean unexplainably alluring to everything that wants to eat or kill me… then yes. Yes I am.”

________

Elias held his hands up with wide eyes. “Human! I was…” he trailed off, embarrassment creeping up onto his features. “I was kind of a court jester for a fae club.” He admitted with a frown. “Ever since I’ve just wanted to understand what the world really is, not the world people try to pretend is real.” He waved his hands around in the air as he spoke. Holding his hands up in the air again, Elias shook his head. “I swear, I won’t eat you. That sounds… awful, honestly.”

“You mean things follow you?” Elias asked, leaning toward her with curiosity. “Have you figured out why, or is it just a string of bad luck?” He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “If it’s an all the time thing, then I can’t be just bad luck.” He narrowed his eyes, then looked back up at Frankie. “I may not know a lot, but whatever we know, we should pool together to help each other. See if there are other humans out there that know about this stuff.”

_

Frankie studied Elias for a long minute, trying to discern if he was telling the truth. If he was something, he definitely wasn’t fae. Unless he was some faerie that really did act as court jester. But he seemed earnest. She decided for the moment he didn’t deserve to be sprayed with holy water like a naughty cat. 

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “If I had an answer, I wouldn’t be getting my doctorate trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.” She muttered, more to herself than him, before letting the thought go with a sigh. “It’s one of life’s great mysteries. Maybe monsters just have incredible taste. Pun fully intended.” Frankie smiled. “I think we should compare notes. Because you’re the first person to not think I’ve gone completely batshit.” Aside from her sister, of course. But Maggie would believe anything was real. Frankie could tell that girl that purple giraffes were flying through the sky like gangly rainbow colored pegasi, and Maggie would be halfway out the door with her phone camera open trying to capture proof. 

Elias smirked and let out a soft laugh as Frankie declared him the first person to not call her crazy. “I ran from this town and sought out a psychiatrist because I was fully convince I had lost it.” He told her with a shake of his head, clearly still in disbelief. “I’ve ran into Bigfoot and some freaky snake creature… oh, and a giant rat.” Elias spoke, thinking of the things he’d run into. “I probably ran into more, you know… before I realized what they really were.” He scratched the back of his head, then let out a tired sigh. 

He perked up at the idea of comparing notes. “Most of my stuff is on faeries.” He admitted with a shrug of a shoulder. “Though because of the Bigfoot encounter, I’ve started trying to research that more and more, but… that’s harder to do that than I thought with all the different ‘research’ that exists out there.” He threw an airquote around research with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sure your research is far more extensive than mine, so… I’d be happy to learn what you know. I know very surface level information right now.” He admitted with an embarrassed smile. 

“We should meet up somewhere that’s not infested with cursed seashells and…” he looked around at all the hungry seagulls with a frown. “Probably a place with less seagulls.” He decided with a decisive nod of his head. “

Frankie blinked. “I’m sorry. Bigfoot? Bigfoot is real?!” She flipped her notebook back open and scribbled the sentence down in all caps, deciding to do some light research on the topic the next time she was in the archives. 

“There’s different versions depending on where you look and who you ask. I’ve learned it’s best to assume everything is true, just in case. If you want, you can read through my notes sometime, about what I do know is true.” 

The woman glanced up to the seagulls that circled overhead. “Yeah, they look like they might join the monster club soon and decide I’m a snack. I work at the university, in the archives. We could meet up there sometime. Janice will probably be there, but she’s relatively harmless if you give her a donut and tell her some gossip.”

——-

Elias nodded excitedly and pulled out his phone to show Frankie the blurry picture of the Bigfoot. “True to his nature, he’s not very photogenic.” He admitted with a shrug of his shoulders before pocketing his phone again. “He looked just like what I’d imagine Bigfoot to look like, but this guy was territorial.” Elias’s eyes widened as he talked, getting more animated with every word. “Before I knew it, I was being chased, so I think that’s where his home might be. More information needed.” He gave a sage nod as if he was already planning something he probably shouldn’t be.  “Yeah, wouldn’t want to add seagulls to your list of things that think you’re tasty.” Elias agreed with a slow nod of his head, gesturing for her to follow him away from the beach and back to their cars. “I know a Marcy that’s a lot the same way, maybe Janice and Marcy should become friends and spread the gossip,” Elias spoke with a grin before gesturing to his car. “I should probably get going. Spent enough time unconscious with sea shells today for my liking. I’ll definitely come see you with donut prepared and gossip in hand.” He gave one last smile before disappearing into his car with a grin on his face. Finally, he might have met someone who actually understands him. Things were looking up.

[thesilentmedium]

@franklyfrankiesfolklore replied to your post “Valentine's Day is not very far away. The bakery...”:

Can I have a cake delivered to me on galentines day instead?

​Galentines day? I am sorry you will have to explain that to me.

[thunderstroked]

@franklyfrankiesfolklore replied to your post “Whoever threw spaghetti into the tree outside of...”:

do you have one of those camera system things? or does one of your neighbors? Maybe you can figure out the pasta vandal.

​No, those are too expensive. Apparently it was an old grandmother. I do not think there is a lot to be afraid of.

[franklyfrankiesfolklore]

Misfortune Teller

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: Regan @kadavernagh and Frankie @franklyfrankiesfolklore

SUMMARY: Regan recruits Frankie to help destroy a fortune telling machine. It doesn't go to plan.

CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Usually, Regan’s trips to the Common fell into one of two categories: 1) a work call to come collect a body, or 2) leisurely questing for non-human bodies. This was the first time her target was mechanical in nature. Chris mentioned that there was some fortune machine by the gazebos, and as Regan approached, it was easy to spot. A human plaything that insulted her abilities – insulted all banshees, really – by doling out false futures. Regan was ready to blast it into pieces. It was part of the town’s winter festivities, but on the periphery of the shops enough that she was undeterred by the small amount of people lingering nearby. 

The robot woman inside of the machine whirred to “life” as Regan got closer, and its eyes seemed to tick to wherever she moved. Eerie. But hardly the most offensive thing about it. She took stock. It had speakers, of course, and apparently required “1 hour of your life,” which Regan took to mean it would take a whole hour to listen to your “fortune”. Were people really getting scammed into using this thing, and believing it? “An bhfuil tú insult dúinn?” Regan asked it. She scowled, but the machine made no expression back at her. She took a furtive glance around, checking that no one was too close or paying attention. It seemed safe. She gripped the sides of the glass display case – so breakable – and took a deep breath, readying her lungs. 

_______

Frankie was in desperate need of coffee. There was probably some joke to be made about academia and crippling caffeine dependency, but after a long shift in the archives trying to explain the finer intricacies of Egyptian mythology to some undergrad who had taken a humanities course ‘just to fill a requirement’, and an even longer shift of doing research for her dissertation, she was in need of a gallon of iced caffeinated goodness. 

She was wallking through the Common on her way to obtain her drink when she passed the definitely-not-fucking-with-that-thing fortune telling machine. 1 hour of a normal persons life would probably turn into all of Frankie’s with her luck, and death by zoltar machine didn’t sound like a particularly cool way to go. She was close enough to hear the woman in front of the machine try talking to it, and some sympathetic part of Frankie’s brain won out. Maybe she thought it was voice activated. Then it looked like she was about to shake the machine or tip it over, and Frankie decided to stop a vandalism charge in progress. She reached out to tap the stranger's shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to shake it, I think you just need to put a coin in.”

_______

Clearly, Regan had not looked around closely enough. A stranger’s voice made her freeze just as she was about to scream and accomplish her mission. She swallowed it back down with some challenge and glared at the interloper. She was met only with what was probably intended to be a friendly suggestion.

Regan was struck by the scars across the woman’s face – they did not appear to be from a single incident, but multiple, their positioning and shapes erratic and wonderful. Regan could have spent an hour staring, studying, but even she knew that would be taken as rudeness. So she shook her head to break her eyes away, and really focused on what the woman was saying, and the fact she dared touch her. Technically, Regan was going to shake the machine, but not with her hands. “You think I’m trying to use this thing?” Chris had encouraged her to try it out, but if she had her way, no one would be able to slot a coin in this machine ever again – it would be reduced to nuts and bolts and whatever weird fleshy fabric they used for the fortune teller’s face. “It needs to be destroyed. You’re going to assist me by keeping everyone else away,” Regan explained casually.

Her lungs lurched for a second. Which was weird. Regan focused, like it would be hard to tell if she owed this woman a scream. No, that couldn’t be it. Nerves, probably. They seemed to double with each passing day that brought her departure closer. She swallowed and looked from the woman to the machine, hoping the pause hadn’t been noticed. “I expect that you have no objections, but if you do, that’s unfortunate and you’re going to need to move past them. This is important.”

_______

Frankie had gotten far too used to the stares. To the way people’s eyes traced along a jagged line that cut across her face from brow to cheek bone before jumping to another. The scars were always what people noticed first. The scars that somehow weren’t proof enough that the universe had decided attempting to kill her was it’s favorite pastime. She tipped her chin up and pulled her shoulders back as the woman studied her features. The scars mean you survived, she reminded herself, standing taller, prouder. 

An amused huff of air rattled from the woman’s lungs as her eyebrow ticked up. “Destroyed?” Frankie echoed. Well she couldn’t really argue with that. Especially since historical precedence seemed to indicate that if it was supernatural it would inevitably find some way to hurt her. “Well, far be it from me to tell you not to destroy public property. Other than to warn you about the fact that it’s definitely considered at least a class A misdemeanor. What’s a little vandalism between perfect strangers.” 

She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “But how the hell do you plan on breaking it? I’m not sure tipping it like some bored kid tipping a cow will break an incredibly creepy fortune machine that braves the elements and still somehow works despite wind and rain.”

_______

According to human law, sure, destroying this screadaíl thing would be a misdemeanor. Once, Regan would have respected that, even down to the letter. But it wasn’t like this was murder (always – she’d follow those laws, always). And such matters of banshee pride rose above the preservation of offensive trinkets, no matter how important humans thought them to be. At least this woman was sensible enough to not intervene. 

Regan stared through the glass, straight into the fortune teller’s plastic eyes. Her gaze turned into a glower. And the plastic eyes blinked. Regan’s spine stiffened. They– they– no, no, it was an animatronic, and they were surely programmed to do that. She despised this thing even more for momentarily throwing her off. She turned back to the woman, anger bunched up on her forehead. “There must be more out there, others like this. Destroying one is only the beginning. We must go to the source.” We. Yes, that was right. Regan was going to make an accomplice today. Her tone bordered on lecturing, “this is nothing but a box of lies. And people believe it! No person could ever know what the future holds, let alone some machine – the claim is an insult to those who are something greater. You don’t worry about how it will break. Just go over there, away.”

There it was again, that push against her lungs, but this time she wasn’t quick enough to smother it, and even the half-a-second screech that came out was enough to shatter the glass. Her hands flew over her mouth and she looked at the woman. What had just happened? Regan was going to wait until there was distance between them, and sure, the glass broke, but that was hardly important when – “Are you okay?” She asked cautiously, approaching, as she tried to shake off the rest. This woman was not about to die. So why was her scream testing her like this?

_______

Frankie watched the woman, a bit uneasy. Just walk away, Frankie. She told her unmoving feet. Don’t get drawn in by the weird. It never ends well. You know it never ends well. Her body didn’t listen, still faced toward the stranger who seemed disgusted and transfixed with the fortune machine. ‘We’. The woman said ‘we’. If Frankie stayed there much longer, the stranger might think that the archivist could be enlisted on a crusade against cursed carnival novelties. She raises an eyebrow, confused as she was being directed to walk away. 

She’d not gotten more than three steps when it sounded like the goddamn sky was caving in again. Frankie stumbled, slamming her hands against her ears. It didn’t help. The noise was short, but utterly piercing. Her ears were ringing, and her head was throbbing. Tripping over her own feet as she startled, she landed on the grass with a huff.  She whirled around wide eyed to stare at the stranger. Had she made that noise? 

Frankie skittered back in the grass as they took a step in her direction. Their mouth was moving, but the ringing in her ears hadn’t subsided. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what message was trying to be conveyed. Not that the message mattered- not when Frankie’s mind was working a mile a minute trying to figure out what could make that kind of noise. “What was that?!” She couldn’t hear the words leave her mouth- she only hoped they had and that the other person could still hear them. 

_______

Human ears were so stupidly delicate and Regan lunged forward to help as the girl toppled over. But halfway to meeting her, her brain forced a stop. She had done that. How? What had happened? Wasn’t her control so much better than this? No. Not anymore, apparently. Guilt pinned her legs and they tangled up too, but her vestibular system wasn’t ringing like a gun had sounded in it, so of course she was able to stay standing; it was everyone around her who suffered her failures. Regan looked down, eyes wide, getting an even more petrified look back. Regan knew that look. She had tended to hundreds of injured and seen just as many deaths, swam in the fear of her decedents as their heart beat one last time. Terror never got easier to swallow, and especially when it ran concurrent with pain. The only thing worse was knowing you caused it. And hadn't she done so much of that since coming here? (And wouldn’t she cause so much more when she– no.) Once again, Regan was torn between moving any closer to the girl and needing to scramble away so that didn't happen again (would it? She had barely seen it coming the first time). Her lungs were still pulsing, ready, and she was having trouble reining them in, sound pouring up like scorching steam.

She extended a hand, but was too far away to even help, and it all just felt so futile. Jade would have told her to approach anyway, to try. She would have. So Regan tried. “That was– a mistake. It was a mistake. My mistake. I don’t know why that happened, what’s wrong with me. I’m– are you okay? Do you need help? I can–” Talking, trying to explain, was another mistake. The urge to scream was molten in her mouth and it only grew hotter as she cautiously approached the girl, intending to help her to her feet.

She almost didn’t recognize the second screech to come out of her. It was her, wasn’t it, and not one of the skyquakes? Of course it was. But she hadn’t tried to do it. Was she so pitiful now that she had regressed all the way back to when she was first gifted her scream? That woman, that person, had no grip over her own lungs. She was a danger to everything and everyone. She was supposed to be gone. Regan had become something better, hadn’t she? Still dangerous, maybe, under the worst of circumstances, but not like this. “No, I didn’t mean– why–”

The box around the foolish human toy shattered, and she barely cared. 

_______

The words didn’t reach Frankie’s ears- how could they? Frankie was fairly certain her sense of sound had fled the country to get as far away from that impossibly loud, high pitched sound as possible. But the other woman looked as distressed as Frankie felt, so she didn’t flinch again as the stranger came closer. Maybe she just had really strong ears. 

Reaching a hand out to the stranger who drew closer to help, Frankie hadn’t been expecting her ears to be capable of hearing anything for quite a while. But there it was again- louder this time, if that was possible, and just as piercing. Frankie yelped, her eyes closed tight against the noise, as if she could block it out if she tried hard enough. 

There was a faint ringing in her ears when it stopped, and Frankie felt as though her head was about to burst from the headache that had come on as suddenly as the mysterious inhuman screaming noises. She pried her eyes open and stared at the other woman who again, seemed fine physically. Frankie stared up at her in panic and confusion, glancing up at the sky. Was it a sky quake again? Were they getting that much worse?

_______

Some people dug so fiercely at their ears, it was like their brain no longer cared that they were attached. Anything to stop the pain, the ringing. Others flopped, couldn’t find their feet again, vertigo pinning them in place. They visited Regan in her dreams, those pained faces, and now they would have a new one joining them, a woman scarred and scarred again. This… this time, it hadn’t been that bad, she told herself. But it was a scream, not just a voice raised a little too sharply, or a nervous gasp with too much of an edge. This wasn’t something that was supposed to happen accidentally, not anymore. It shouldn’t have.

Regan knew the look of someone whose ears were stunned into a blaring deafness, and she also knew that the worst thing one could do to damaged tympanic membranes was to fire another noise into them. Her ribcage could hardly contain her pounding heart as she looked down at the girl, who seemed bewildered. Blaming the sky (Regan didn’t sound half as good). Unable to make sense of it. Regan swallowed and withdrew her hand, which felt like abandoning a patient, someone in need. But her lungs begged again, not nearly done or close to tired. Would there be a third? What was happening?

"I'm so sorry," Regan whispered, her voice barely audible. She didn’t trust her lungs. She had become too soft to command them, that was the problem. "I didn't mean to... I don't know what happened.”  She could explain the source of it, if her lungs hadn’t been chasing each word. But she did understand what must be done about it. She was supposed to help people, not hurt them, and that was why she was leaving. This kind of thing was why she was leaving. That it was a stranger she was looking at made it no less gut wrenching, but it could have been Jade, or Elias. 

Regan sprinted over the cracked fortune teller glass, making a beeline for the cluster of trees lining the side of the park – she wouldn’t follow there, right? With each breath, her lungs grew increasingly pliable, back to waiting for her instruction like nothing had happened. It made no sense. If the girl was dying, why had there not been a vision? If she wasn’t dying, why did this happen near her? She caught her breath against a tree and checked left and right that she wasn’t followed. No. But it wasn’t over. When Regan closed her eyes, she found that she did not need to be asleep to see the girl’s terror.