#go girl lure people away and feast on their flesh

[birdkittenn]

just remembered an extremely old oc. girl i have great plans for you

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Hi! Doll anon from awhile back who requested the Jervises (Jervii?) reacting to an S/O who's literally a mechanical life-sized doll, and 'taking care of' her abusive creator. Can I get the same scenario for BTAS and 2022 Penguin, where she's very uncanny (you can hear her gears turning, she turns her head the wrong way, etc.) but loves them dearly? Bonus points for how they'd deal with her creator trying to take her away!

"A Real Doll and Her Unfortunate Past" BTAS and 2022 Penguin x F!doll!s/o

Man, that one was a while ago, huh? Almost like I need to start getting faster on these LOL. But fuck yes we love the uncanny mechnical doll bride!

TW: dolls/dollplay, body horror, Murder, implied abuse, being fed to animals

BTAS Penguin

Rather fascinated! He'd grown up with a spectacular amount of old clocks, clocks with exposed cogs all about him as a child. To see such machinations powering a physical being... It's difficult to see where the doll ends and the person begins. In his mind they're almost separate entities. But that would be rude to say, so he's just not going to.

Briefly he wonders if he could make more "dolls" to do his bidding for him- and then nervously laughs as she ribs him for even thinking of such a thing. Of course, dear, no one could ever be as special as you anyways, dear.

He would love to see the inner parts! Like walking into a clock tower. Seeing every intricate working that makes her heart beat for him. There's something quite romantic in that, isn't there? The most prized of all treasures in Gotham and she chooses to be with him!

So when she sees a man in a crowd and looks frightened. Oh no, that won't do at all. He's thinking of the ways to take care of this when the man has the unmitigated gall to approach them! Grabbing her arm, almost ripping the sleeve of her dress. Telling her she must come home at once, or there will be grave consequences.

Oswald is quick to act, pointing the business end of his umbrella towards the man's gut. He tries to remember which one he packed today. It wasn't lethal, he knows that. The Creator calls him a loathsome little toad and to back away from his Precious Girl. Oswald fires and a small fireworks explosion erupts, burning the man and temporarily blinding him.

It gives them just enough time to escape, his doll in tears and begging not to be returned to that cruel man. That if he loved her, he wouldn't. That he would "shut her down" before considering it! Oswald calms her. She's never going to have to worry about him ever again.

There are some people in Gotham who owe him a favor... It's simple enough. Have his doll safely watching via computer feed set up by the Completely Non-Egotistical Edward Nygma and Pamela Isley in his dolls clothes. They were only too happy to help after hearing about the situation.

Pamela lured the man in, paralyzing him with her kiss. He might realize it's a rather large aviary he's been led to. Paralyzing him meant Oswald could show the man the true meaning of fearing for his life as his darling did seeing him. He has a very specific collection of birds who are going to feast upon his flesh over time.

She can choose to watch. Choose to leave the room. Whatever she likes. Oswald will be sure to confirm the man's death for her so she never has to fear again.

2022 Penguin

At first, he's genuinely freaked out over the real doll thing. What in the goddamn... Nothing against it! The first time she turns her head backwards, though, he is going to scream about it for at least ten minutes. Warn a fucking guy! Scared the hell outta him!

He does not want to see the inner workings. This is not to say he's frightened or ashamed or any negative feelings about it, per say. It's just. Something about the parts and pieces moving and he thinks about how fragile it all is. How one piece not moving could stop her from moving at all. He doesn't want to get his big mitts anywhere near that. She's too important.

People talk, unfortunately. Word gets about, especially when your girlfriend doesn't quite realize how uncanny and different she is about people. It all leads to a man arranging a meeting with him, a suitcase full of money to give him in return "for what's his." The man states that she's his ward, that her escaping is the product of faulty programming on his part. That she must be returned and that he'll offer even more money.

Oswald thinks on it. He calls her in. If the look of horror on her face wasn't telling enough, seeing the things she was carrying in her hands clatter to the floor was a sure sign. She sputtered, asking how he found her. The Creator merely replied he was taking her home, that he had given Oswald money for her. The heartbroken look in her eyes...

"Woah, hey, I never said we had a deal." Oswald iterates. He motions with his hands for the doors to be shut. When the creator takes out a gun, Oswald already has his own pointing to the back of the man's skull.

"Wanna do the honors, sweetheart?" He asks the doll. Whether she takes him up on it or not, this man, this creator won't leave the room alive. Anyone who causes that much fear in someone he cares about, someone he loves... They're good as fucking dead. He doesn't need a reason.

Though he's ready to listen to her when she's ready to share.

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

Dedicated to~ @draculakells because they had the idea. Thanks! Xx I hope this is worthy of your time :)

“I’ve never known a girl like you before,” the vampire smirked, eyes raking down the body of the stranger. She was shorter than him, Colson towering over her. Chains hung around his neck as his leather jacket opened to show an array of tattoos across his chest with barely any room left of uninterrupted skin. He was surely an intimidating sight to see with those snake eyes baby blues narrowing. Butterflies erupted inside of her stomach, her knees going weak.

That voice. The gravel in his tone was unearthly, those fangs glimmering within the shitty bar lighting. Silly her for a human to enter a vampires bar. The place was slithering with them, the lights and music loud over the laughing cries and growls from the fanged creatures. This was a place to lure humans in and feast. And she had just become the next victim.

“Here you come knocking on my door…” he had said as she shifted uncomfortably. Anxiety and panic sunk in, a shaky hand coming up to mouth with her glass full of bourbon. The silence only heightened his pleasure in the moment, but he wanted to hear her speak. With his silver tongue he said, “what’s your name, doll?”

More silence ensued as she took in a brief inhale, shakily letting it out. God did she a smoke or a Xanax…. Anything to finesse this adrenaline rush of dead. “My name is Livvi… but people call me L,” the woman mustered your enough courage to speak; it soon leaving as that smirk reappeared and he shifted even closer. He was standing, leaning on the bar counter and she sat. So small. So vulnerable.

The was truly terrifying the way his tongue darted out across his elongated canines every time he looked at her neck. Which was quite often. Her knees quakes at the thought- that scary but somehow enticing idea of him biting- no! What, was she crazy? This boy had… something over her. A powerful hold that had her scooting closer. He caught whiff of her blood once more, canines aching.

“Just one taste, yeah?” He met her eyes, fighting the urge to enchant her. Though it would be easy, it would also be painless and too… unamusing. He liked the gasps of shock as the razor sharp fangs sunk into their flesh, drawing their sweet nectar of crimson. “Do you trust me? Come on…”

L was certainly smarter than this. She had to of been. There was no way in hell she could allow for a vampire to have access to her throat. For she knew it would have over in a minute! She’d be dead. They’d never be satisfied. But in the moment… she found herself reaching for the knife in front of her, the one she would use on her dinner should she still have an appetite later. The blade was cool against her skin as she sliced at her hand, breaking skin with a stinging kiss from steel. Immediately colsons eyes turned a dark hue of venom~ entranced. The smell was sweeter when hitting oxygen, the sharp inhale warning her that he was hooked on the scent. She offered up her bleeding hand, the vampire quickly taking it within his grasp.

Oh, how sweet the taste of iron. It was rejuvenating, refreshing. He felt the power surge once more through his body, undead heat beating alive with new blood supplied from the gorgeous being before him. She was something else entirely, his eyes flicking up from where he eagerly drew her blood, licking a stripe over the wound. She gasped, tears pricking her eyes from the sharp pain. As he fed others watched, though neither noticed. Colson was busy glaring up at her from her hand, and she was too entranced by his eyes. They were so… deep. Like the darkest part of the ocean, so vast and menacing. Cold. She liked it.

“Please-“ she tugged, trying to release herself from his grip. He didn’t relent until another moment passed.

He hummed, “you give me just a taste so I want more,” was his frowning groan. “You wanna taste?” He asked then, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. She could only nod slowly after a few seconds of thought, actually thinking she might have gone crazy. Instead of taking her hand to her mouth, Colson captured her in a heated kiss of carnal rage. With a gasp she searched his bottom lip with her tongue for a Taste of her own blood. Sure, she had tasted blood before… but this was something entirely different. Which is why she didn’t care about the sting while he bit her bottom lip to draw more blood, his animalistic growl enticing and frightening her. He pulled away all too soon, biting his own wrist and motioning for her to taste. “It’ll heal your wound.” He said, and she obeyed.

“Whats your name?” It was her turn to ask the grinning vampire. He answered in a low drawl, ‘colson’. Here he used a bit of his charm, easing her nerves at least. He could hear her heart beating a million miles a minute, pounding against her rib cage.

“Easy, L, I won’t bite…” he winked, moving closer till he was inches apart from her. “Unless you allow me to. Let me take you home, yeah? I can show you how vampires have fun~” his sultry tone was low with gravel, masked by a lustful gaze and a slow and easy smile. Something about the way he said ‘fun’ had her initiating that it wasn’t playing checkers. “I do owe you for my dinner,” taunted, arms tracing up her arm, shivers running a marathon up her spine.

A beat passed. She hesitated. But it had been a hot minute since she had been courted to the bedroom, and never before had she gotten with a vampire. So, with caution she answered, “okay”

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [4]

Masterlist

~^*^~

Your eyes switched from Dracula, to the armed force team and then back to Dracula. You couldn’t help but think back to the day at the Jonathan Harker Foundation when he had told you that he knew he could easily win against the team of gun-wielding men. That lead you to remember his account aboard the Demeter, in which he had been shot four times in the chest. He had felt no pain and had almost immediately gotten up to devour the man that shot him.

How could you be so stupid?!

Of course he would easily win against mortal men! All they had was (to quote the brave gentleman deceased of 123 years) steel and powder! They were no match for Count Dracula. It was at that precise moment that you realised just how royally screwed you really were. You had lead yourself out to a concealed corner, meters above an angry sea, with the intentions of luring over an ancient vampire and had succeeded. A few bullets would do him no damage, but his fangs and his beastly power would be enough to finish you all off within a minute or two.

You turned your eyes to Dracula once more and he was staring straight at you. You kept the eye contact. He licked his lips and lowered his arms.

“Did you invite them?” He inquired.

You were too frozen to speak. The dread that had overcome you was too much for you to handle.

“Silly girl. Did you truly think that you would ever have the upper hand against someone - something - like me?”

Again, you were unable to answer him. He stretched his neck, rolling it backwards to expose his thick neck and a deep growl eminated from his chest.

“What a shame. I was beginning to like you, [First].”

“What are you going to do to me?”

He neared you once more and faintly you heard one of the men shout for him to stop moving. He did not listen. He swaggered towards you with some pride. You could only assume he knew that the ball was in his court.

When his fingers trailed against your waist for a second, you were unable to suppress the hum that rumbled in your throat. For just a moment, you forgot who was touching you. His mouth came to hover jusy above the skin just above your collarbone. He was almost touching the flesh, but kept enough space to tantalise you.

“You stepped out of line.” He breathed against your skin, “I never break my promises, Miss [First].” Your eyes widened.

He wouldn’t.

His other hand came to grip your waist and both hands were now holding you firm. You wriggled in his grasp, trying to set yourself free. You heard Zoe’s voice from some distance away but you knew she’d never get to you.

“You’re going to kill me.” You whispered the statement.

“No, I told you, I don’t want to kill you. You’re going to learn a lesson.”

“I-“

“Never cross me again, [First].”

He pressed his body firmly to yours and he pushed wyour body harshly backwards with no effort on his behalf. The railing behind you broke as if it was nothing more than a flimsy and tiny tree branch. You became weightless, with the Count clutching you tight as you plummeted down into the North Sea.

~^*^~

The days that followed were quiet. You suspected that you had most deeply offended Count Dracula, as although you continued to try and lure him to you, he made no attempt to visit you again. By the fourth day of his clear ignoring of you, you decided to spend a day inside of the Jonathan Harker Foundation, where you ended up running into a very old friend.

When your eyes had landed on Jack Seward, you swore you had a heart attack. A little more matured than the last time you saw him, with a slightly different cut to his hair, maybe an inch at most taller, he had hardly changed. Seeing him brought back a flood of memories, most of them painful, even more linking to another person whom you had buried down in the deepest dungeons of your heart and mind and begged to never have to think about again.

Jack’s eyes had lit up, despite the clear sadness evident in them and had begun to ramble about how much time it had been since you’d last met. Although Jack had never done a thing wrong to you, you couldn’t help that grease stain of a grudge on your heart catch a little on him in your mind. He had been associated. Although he never knew what went on, you felt like he picked her over you.

“So, what are you doing here?” You inquired, smiling through the whirlwind of negative emotions currently circulating you, “no offence, I mean. Do you work here?

“Not work, per se. I’m actually a junior doctor, I’m just here because Zoe- Dr. Van Helsing, put me forward for some study with a vampire. What about you?” The ease in which he spoke, the casualness of it made you scoff.

“Me? I’m an associate of Zoe’s. I’ve been working with criminals for the past two and a half years, learning how they tick and getting to the bottom of the why. She asked me to lend a hand on the vampire as we seem to be calling him.”

“I see...”

“A junior doctor, though, eh? Who would’ve thought the Jack Seward who couldn’t handle watching a birthing video in year ten would turn out to be a doctor?” You playfully sighed.

“I actually want to go into mental health. Definitely not.. birthing.” A chill ran down his spine and he visibly shivered.

You laughed and accompanied him as far as where he needed to be. Although you had no need to be inside of the institute, you knew you could find solace somewhere. Truth be told, you were trying to avoid Zoe for even a few hours. She had been relentlessly hounding you for information on Dracula, and trying to get your neck treated. After the Count had so kindly soft-chocked you, a purple bruise had bloomed in the shape of his hand stretching across your skin. If she knew about the similar marks on both sides of your waist, you knew she’d have a fit. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Zoe, it was quite the opposite. It was simply that you knew she was riddled with guilt.

Zoe had spent her whole life chasing the fantasy of finding Dracula. It was all that she ever wanted. She needed to know where he was. He had killed her great-great paternal aunt along witj several others with them not realising what he was for weeks and then all but disappeared. He had never been recovered from the shipwreck of the Demeter and no one had seen him since. Knowing that the foundation she ran, the institute she had in her clutches had brought back such evil was driving her crazy with the guilt. People were dying. Every day, at least two new victims would be announced, most drained of their blood and with a chunk of their throats gone. She felt responsible.

In your thoughts, you managed to find an unoccupied room and slumped down into one of the chairs closest to the door. You had found it difficult to sleep, worrying that a certain vampire would find you and gain entry to your home. You didn’t think that he knew where you lived, but he was a vampire who could turn himself into a fly. For all you knew he was hovering around you currently.

Every now and then, a rush of voices would flow past the door, and you’d sink further down into your seat to avoid being detected. For just a moment, you craved solace and quiet. It seemed this abandoned room provided it well. However, you only stayed for another short moment before pushing yourself up and leaving the room.

Standing against the wall opposite where you emerged was Zoe with her arms crossed. Jack was standing awkwardly beside her.

“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to come out of there.” She stated plainly, “it seems the two people I need to speak with the most are consistent in trying to avoid me.”

“I’m sorry, Zoe. I just needed a little space.”

“That’s understandable. You could have just said.” She pushed herself away from the wall so that she was standing fully, “you look exhausted.”

“I am.” You confessed, “I’m worried about-...” you cut yourself off. Jack was staring right at you with such pity it made you want to burst into tears right there.

“Dracula.” He finished for you.

“Yes, well, he did leave quite the nasty bruise on your neck and proceed to throw you both into the sea.” Zoe state’s as if you couldn’t recall. You definitely could.

Zoe then insisted that you go home and get some real rest. She allocated some men to be stationed around your home and kindly offered to drive you back herself. It was a quick drive and she decided to bring Jack along, considering the three of you seemed to know a little more about the Count than most. As she pulled up outside of your house, you looked through the windows. Everything was as you left it. To your left was the river, currently drained of nearly all it’s water as the tide was out. You bid the two farewell and retreated into your home.

Time slipped by with ease once you were home. You did not sleep, though you probably should have given the circumstances. At exactly 8:09pm, as you watched some aged comedy, your door knocked. It was most likely Zoe checking up on you, so you rose and went to answer.

You had no chance to try and slam the door shut once it was opened as his large hand held the wood with ease, preventing it was swinging back into its frame.

“How did you find me?” You inquired, a little scared, but as usual keeping your calm front.

“It wasn’t difficult. You walk home alone almost every day. That cinertrack has a lot of places to duck if someone turns to look, you know.” He informed you. Dracula’s eyes twinkled with mischief once more and he licked his lips he was triumphant.

“Why are you here?” Was your next question.

“To see you, of course. Will you invite me in?”

“Will you harm me if I do?”

“Have you learnt your lesson?”

“Come in, Dracula.”

“Good girl.”

You turned sluggishly, b-lining for your sofa once more. Dracula followed behind you. His footsteps echoed in your ears. When you flipped down on soft cushions, you eyed the vampire who took a seat on your La-Z Boy.

“Ah, you have one of the boxes, as well.” He mused.

“As well?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, whenever I have been invited in to feast, they’ve had those boxes,” he pointed at your TV, “clever thing isn’t it?”

“I mean, I guess so.”

“You humans seemed to have grown much too accustomed to these fine luxuries in life. Very ungrateful for them.”

“It’s not- never mind. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

You pushed yourself up once more and found yourself leaving him alone as you climbed your stairs. Upon entering the bathroom, you took a look at yourself in the mirror. The purple bruise was still evident on your neck. It wasn’t faded much at all and you wondered how long it was going to take for it to disappear. You traced the line with your finger.

“Yes, sorry about that.”

You turned your head to see him leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. A small smirk played on his lips. He wasn’t sorry, he was proud of it.

He moved into the room, slow steps nearing you until he was stood directly behind you. You locked eyes with him in the mirror. Like this, you could see the sheer size difference between you. He overpowered you in every aspect and it began to dawn on you how stupid you had been.

“Stupid things, mirrors.” He uttered, frowning and used his hands to turn you to face him, “they are beyond the complexity of this world, I assure you. Vanity is such a reckless thing.”

“Says the man clearly obsessed with keeping up with appearances.” You rolled your eyes at him, peering up through your eyelashes at his face.

“It is,” he brought up a hand, coolness stinging your neck where the bruise was, “beautiful. Did I do the same thing on your waist?”

“Would it matter?” You questioned.

“Of course. You must know by now that I revel in the things that I can do to you fragile beings.”

“You cannot scare me, Dracula.”

“You always lie to me when your pulse is so erratic.” He lowered his voice, “do you take enjoyment out of deceiving others, so?”

“No.” You whispered.

“Then why do you do it?”

You could not answer him. He already knew why. It was foolish to try and save face in front of a vampire who knew what you were going to do before even you did. A smirk cane upon his lips and he took a step back, allowing for you to leave the room. He followed you out and into your bedroom. This, you did not realise until you were sat fully in bed and turned to see him sitting causally in the arm chair by your door.

You inwardly grumbled.

Surely a man of his age would be able to realise what was crossing a boundary? Were you going to have to spell it out for him? He simply stared at you for a moment before sitting up and ridding himself of his navy suit jacket. Now he sat with his white shirt and black waistcoat. You glared as he made himself comfortable.

“What are you doing?” You snapped.

“Sitting.” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“You do realise why I’ve come in here, right?”

“Yes, I’m not stopping you from sleeping, [First]. I’ll wait here until you wake up.”

“What so you can feed on me when I’m out cold? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“[First],” he sat forwards once more, resting his elbows on his thighs and pacing his hands together with his fingers, “had I wanted to kill you, be assured I would have done it the first time we met. You are lucky you were so ballsy as to shut the light out just to talk to me.”

“Drac, I’m not sleeping in here with you sitting there.”

“Sleep or don’t sleep, I’m comfortable here.”

You groaned and flopped back on to the mattress. You cursed at yourself. Only an idiot would invite a vampire so intrusive into their house at bedtime.

~^Taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat -cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx

Thank you all for the support!

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Amaratha Othonos AGE & BIRTH DATE. Currently 27, reincarnated on December 1st, 1993 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Kobalos OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Poppy Drayton

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, cannibalism, torture, suicide, slavery mention ) Amaratha was the older sibling of two, born in a small village outside of Thebes. But the village was different from the rest of the Greek world, where the taboo was celebrated, and none so revered as Dionysus. The cultists worshiped the god of madness above all others, spreading his religion to anyone who crossed their paths, despite the open scorn and derision they received. Amaratha was no exception to this, a mischievous young girl who was devout in her faith, using her innocent appearance to lure in unexpecting travelers. Those who were not converted were offered as sacrifice to their god, the flesh turned into a feast as the people partook in depravity. The opinions of the small minded mattered little to her, for they had the favor of Dionysus, and lived only to please him and themselves. 

And so the god blessed their village, the cult they created in his worship. Though both Amaratha’s parents had passed on by that point, she and her brother received the blessing, becoming kobaloi along with the rest of their people. Grown into a young woman by that point, there was seldom she took more enjoyment out of than her newfound powers, spinning tales of horror and madness inside the minds of those that caught her ire. Men from Thebes who pursued her hand were quick to fall victim to her machinations, and her brother protected her from those inside the village that wished to claim her as well. Amaratha’s spirit was fierce and independent, and detested the thought of being tied down to anyone she felt undeserving — which was all of them. She remained unmarried her entire first lifetime, until the woman found her end in a wolf’s jaws. It was a messy, bloody thing, and in the end as she laid in the dirt struggling for her last breaths, it was done with the satisfaction of knowing the wolf had gone first. 

She came back in their village once again, only a few years later. A different family, this time, but her brother was still there as well, and once her memories came back it was as if nothing had ever changed. But nothing can last forever, particularly something built on the bones of madness and depravity. The end for life as they knew it came with the arrival of Philip ll of Macedon. The king had overtaken the city of Thebes, chaffing the freedom the cultists had grown accustomed to. It was through Amaratha’s meddling that the thought was put into the head of his bodyguard, a manipulation that led to Pausanias of Orestis striking back against the wrongs he had endured from his once-lover king. If only she could have known what the fallout of such actions would lead to. 

With Philip II dead, Thebes began to rebel against the rule of outside forces, denying Alexander the Great’s authority. The new king responded violently, and the city found itself no match to the strength of his army. Their entire village was razed, and those who had not died in the assault were to be sold into slavery. But Amaratha had no intentions of being taken quietly. She was always clever, and quick, and all it took was just one moment of distraction for her to jump to her feet and rush the closest soldier — but instead of attacking, the kobalos threw herself at him and impaled herself on his spear. Even if she had still been a human woman, without the knowledge of her reincarnation, there was no thought worse than to be at the mercy of the Macedonian soldiers, and so she took fate into her own hands. With such a mortal wound inflicted upon herself, she held no value as a slave anymore, and was left to choke on her own blood as the village that was her home burned to ashes around her. 

Her next cycle, she came back as the daughter of a powerful Athenian politician, who used Amaratha as little more than a bargaining chip to strike an alliance against his rival. But she was quick to leave such a life and her husband behind, the moment her memories returned to her. The kobalos went back to what was once her home, hoping to find some trace of where her people had been taken. Instead, all she found was ruins, and the truth of the matter was that she would not meet any of her kin again for nearly a hundred years. Perhaps it was fate, or simply coincidence that she and her brother would eventually end up in the same city, but the overwhelming relief of finding him again forged their bond even strong than it had been before; they remained together for the rest of that incarnation, and began devising methods to seek each other out in the ones that followed. 

But Amaratha never had any choice in where she would end up next, frustratingly. Nor the fact that the majority of her memories remained locked away until she reached adulthood. The more that time passed by, the more her reincarnations began to spread further across the world. And all the while, the woman still served Dionysus faithfully, even though he never offered anything in return again, not even a word. She spread chaos and discord wherever she went, creating problems where none existed simply for her own entertainment. From commoners to kings, no one was safe from Amaratha’s influence if she had the means to influence them. 

One of her favorite lifetimes happened to be in Russia. Her name had been Tomila Fedotovna at the time, and her typically dark tresses had turned nearly as white as the snow that covered the ground. The year was 1,560, and Ivan IV Vasilyevich had already settled into his reign. Though he had not yet earned the moniker that would follow him through history, Amaratha could see the tsar’s instability simmering beneath the surface, just needing the right push to come out. What a terrible thing it was, when his tsaritsa came down with a sickness in the summer, taken from the world before the turn of the next season. Poison, they whispered, and most importantly, the tsar believed so as well. His second and third wives followed in similar fashion, only stroking the paranoia inside Ivan the Terrible, which Amaratha all too happily provoked. While the tsar looked for enemies all around him, he never suspected the doe-eyed daughter of one of his boyars. 

She never did give him a moment’s peace, watching him descent further into madness with each atrocity, even the accidental murder of his own son. And when he finally died, all that was left of the Rurik dynasty was his feeble and ineffectual son Feodor. Though Amaratha had already died and reincarnated by the time of the last Rurik’s death, it was satisfactory enough to know that she had been the cause when her memories returned years later, as well as directly led to the Time of Troubles that wracked the country. 

And yet, perhaps one of the most important of her lives took place in the early 1800s England. She was Elizabeth, the daughter of a simple servant, and it was a life far less glamorous than those of times past, but the young girl was oblivious to such knowledge. All she knew was that she loved her father, and that they were going to live in a grand house with a kind man. It was nice, and happy for a time, until one evening she was awoken from her bed and taken away from the estate by the kind man. She was too young to know the details at the time, but her father had died, he had said, and so he was going to take care of her now. She never thought to question the fact that throughout the entirety of her youth, he never changed, or ask for the truth of what happened that night. It was only when she turned eighteen that he sat her down and told her the truth; that he was a vampire, and indirectly led to the death of her father — of that life, as Amaratha was starting to get her memories back of who she used to be.

The two things coupled together were difficult to handle, and so the kobalos packed up what little things she could call her own and left. Off to think, to readjust, to slip into the skin of Amaratha again rather than Elizabeth. But it had been a long time since she had felt such familial affection, having not crossed paths with her brother in her two recent lifetimes, and she found herself missing the company of the vampire she had come to think of like a father. It took a few years of stubbornness, an attempt to return to her old life of detachment, before she gave in and sought him out again. There was comfort to be found in the fact that, despite her continued reincarnations, his immortality meant he could never truly be lost to her, once her memory returned each time. In each of her lifetimes that followed, she would always end up seeking him out again, even if they did not stay together the entire time. 

Because, as much as she loved her surrogate father, Amaratha still craved the belonging of her own people. Whenever rumors gained traction of someone with mythical abilities, she was quick to follow, in an attempt to locate her brother or the rest of their kin. It’s what sent her back to Russia, to track down a man known as Rasputin, where she found a witch that had captivated the people of Russia, including the empress. While not a kobaloi like she hoped, she still found great amusement in the mystic man, and the two formed a friendship that lasted until his premature death. 

It also led her to the door of a genasi in the 1980s, though that matter ended much worse for Mara. She forgot her own cardinal rule, the thing that kept her species protected — anonymity. For anyone who knew their tricks could no longer be deceived by them, and once she revealed the truth of herself to the person she thought a friend, a different side of them emerged. There had been a string of murders across the country, but she had not put two and two together until she found herself strapped down in his basement. What followed was excruciating, hours spent in torment, drawing out her pain for their enjoyment. It was in her last moments when, with a final bit of strength from her anger, Mara swore that she would come back for them and repay tenfold — the genasi smiled, and bid her good luck, before finally slicing her throat. 

Her most recent reincarnation happened in Spain, a child abandoned outside of a police station by parents that either couldn’t or didn’t want to keep her. Though she was quickly taken in by a local family, in the end it was not to be, and the girl ended up going into the foster system, where she would never be adopted out of. The name they gave her had been Daniela Marin, but it never felt quite right rolling off the tongue, even if she couldn’t figure out why. She was quick to return to her original name when the memories returned, and the first thing she did upon her reawakening was pay the genasi a visit, fulfilling the promise she made before her death; without the element of surprise, Mara proved a much greater adversary, capable of reversing any curse they attempted to throw at her, inflicting a much greater suffering than what she had endured. 

From that day on, she spent the next decade traveling around Europe, rebuilding her wealth and causing torment to those around her. She had plans to seek out both her brother and adoptive father, eventually, but they were fast-tracked with the sudden loss of her magic one day. Though her brother’s location had yet to be discovered, the vampire was much easier to track down, and it was concern for him that ultimately led Mara to Corinth Bay, unaware that what she’s sought after throughout all her lives also awaits inside.

PERSONALITY

+ fearless, resourceful, playful - impulsive, self-indulgent, devious

PLAYED BY Abby. CST. She/Her.

[steffiwritesstories]

they might find you

Deep in the forest behind the village, legend had it that if a man were to get lost on his way to the other side, the Fae would find him and lead him away.

His mother had told him stories during his childhood - he shouldn’t play too deep in the woods, he shouldn’t leave the path men had carved between the trees, he shouldn’t trust anyone he didn’t know. As a child, he had been terrified by the prospect of being led away, into a land where he wouldn’t see his mother ever again and where he would be in the company of man-eating monsters who wouldn’t let him go.

Because that was the nature of the Fae - they seduced men and led them into their kingdom so they could gorge on their flesh.

So he took care, followed the wide paths through the trees and stayed in sight of the village. His friends were more careless, not as worried about the Fae as he was. They thought of his fears as childish.

“That’s only a legend, idiot!” they would say and laugh when he warned them not to go deeper into the forest, not to venture too far, not to explore too much. “Stories parents tell their kids to make them behave! What, you actually think that’s true?”

And they continued, whenever he voiced his worries about the Fae. They dismissed it when he told them about how he felt somebody watching them, like an icy shiver that ran down the back of his neck.

And their words gave him doubt. 

Yes, his mother wasn’t the only one who had heard of the legend of the Fae, everyone knew the stories, the legends - but no one else believed it to be true. No one had actually seen a child disappearing in the forest. 

No one but his mother. She had told it to him - it had been the daughter from one of her closest friends who was living in the next city over and had brought the girl to spend time with her friend. His mother had been determined to bring her home again and since the village didn’t own a carriage, they had to leave by foot.

They had been careful to stay on the paths - even if the girl had asked his mother multiple times if they could go and pick some of the beautiful flowers that grew between the deeper shades of the trees.

His mother had refused, had held the girl close to her and sharply told her what would happen if she were to leave those paths for too long.

But the girl didn’t listen, had grown more petulant the longer his mother refused to give her her will and eventually, when his mother hadn’t been looking, she had let go of her hand and ventured off between the trees.

Nobody heard a scream - and the girl was never seen again.

He and his mother had fallen in disgrace for what happened to the girl, and so they were pushed to the very side of the village, at the outskirts of their society. 

He hadn’t minded - his friends kept close to him, he didn’t have to grow up alone. But he never forgot the way she had talked about that girl - and the implications behind it that slowly drove her into madness.

Years passed and he grew up - and the legend of Fae in the forest behind the village faded from his mind. Yet the icy tingles on his neck never stopped whenever he ventured deeper into the forest than he was used to, deeper than he was told he should. He brushed it off, refused to think of it as anything magical, and still, he didn’t settle.

His mother died shortly before he reached adulthood.

Her funeral was short, only a few people of the village came to attend and watch as her body was lowered into the muddy ground. It was raining again, the earth soaked with water and yielding like moss under his touch. 

He sighed and looked up into the sky, his eyes closed against the pouring rain that soaked his dark clothes, his heart so heavy he felt like it might drag him to his knees. 

There was nothing holding him in this village anymore. 

*-*

A few days after his mother’s passing, he packed a bag with food, water and a few clothes and set out into the looming forest behind his house. He hadn’t told anyone he would leave - his old friends had left the village to start their own lifes years ago, he was on his own.

The sun was high in the sky as he started walking. The path ahead of him was clear, his shoes quietly tapping against the earth. He saw the tracks of carriages, wheels that had created deep furrows in the rain-soaked earth as they were passing - and their shape had stayed after the earth dried up again.

He gripped the straps of his bag tighter and looked around. Golden sunlight glistened through the trees, drops of dew shining on the leaves of the bushes beside the path.

It was silent. 

He had been walking for several hours and the only sound around him was the wind whistling through the leaves. Fragments of the stories his mother used to tell him fluttered through his mind and he frowned. She had said that the forest was silent because it was magical - because of the Fae. No other animal dared making a sound in the presence of magic.

That was, if there were any animals left.

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, then focused on the path again.

The day passed by without incidents, if he didn’t count the few times he heard a distant scream echoing through the trees. It was far enough away for him not to worry, yet it still made shivers run down his back.

And then came the night and he had to set up camp. He couldn’t continue traveling in the dark.

He had his bedroll rolled out and his fire burning before the last light of the day disappeared from the trees, and as he looked around, he had to suppress a shudder. More stories came to his mind again and the questions that he had always asked himself as a kid came with them - were they real? Was the forest cursed, inhabited by magical creatures that lured in naive, unknowing travelers for their feasts?

Questions and worries eventually guided him into a restless sleep.

*-*

When he awoke, she was sitting by his fire. 

She turned to him and smiled, and her teeth were too sharp for her to be human. Yet it wasn’t fear that paralyzed him and held him on his bedroll.

“You were smart to set up your camp so close to the paths,” she said and rose, her lifted hand surrounded by a light blue glow. Her smile was soft, her eyes looking down on him with an expression that sent icy tingles down the back of his neck.

“But now… now that I finally got you, you’re coming with me.”

He frowned, slowly sitting up once she released the pressure on his limbs. “Why- who-”

“Shhh.” Her hand rose and pressed a gentle finger to his lips. “No need to talk.” Her voice was so soft. “I found you - and that is everything you need to know for now.” 

Before he could protest, her finger pressed against his lips again and her hand traveled up to his forehead, her fingertips resting against his skin.

“Rest,” she said, and the word echoed in his skull. “Rest, my dearest.”

The world slowly faded to black, but he felt neither fear nor pain.

[bram-mackie]

INTRODUCING:

THE HUNTSMAN

BASICS

Name : Bram Mackie

Age: 35

Height : 6′0

Species: Human

Orientation : biromantic,  bisexual

Frequents :  Hideaway

Occupation : Hunter

Residency: The Lounge

Fun Fact: If you ever need to find Bram your best bet is to look up. He might be asleep in a tree somewhere. Or at least he appears to be asleep. He often uses this tactic ( napping) to lure his prey in or give them a sense of getting a leg up on him.  Most of the time though... he really is just napping. Best not to disturb him unless it’s an emergency. 

RELATIONSHIPS

Father: Douglas Mackie

Mother: Evelyn Mackie 

Siblings: Cardele Mackie, Sabrina ‘Brina’ Mackie , 

Significant Other(s): none

Offspring: none

Significant Relationships: Lucky ‘Penny’ Adams (best friends) Tyler West ( boyfriend/ best friend deceased) 

tw: blood, death, gore

BACKSTORY:

“There is a little darkness in all of us. But there are creatures that are made up of this darkness. That eats away at the light they had  leaving a decrepit husk in it’s wake. ”

The Mackies where hunters, and Bram was fascinated by this fact. Some of his earliest memories he can remember, sitting on the bed watching as his father and grandfather got ready for a hunt. There was so much reverence when his father spoke of their home. It was the only home Bram had ever known, The only place that he felt safe and secure. Still, he didn’t think it was that dangerous. He didn’t understand the need for the secrecy. Why it was so important that no one find out where they were. How could he ; at that age he just wanted to see what they got up to. 

‘ When you’re older I’ll train you myself. Thats a promise Bram.’ He wished he’d been more patient. 

But ten year old Bram wanted to know now. He didn’t want to wait. So when the chance came for him to follow after his mother and father he did. He had been learning how to trail and track people. To move quickly and to not be seen by those you didn’t wish to be. He thought he was so clever; getting back home before them. Settling into his bed as if he’d always been there. So smart, he hadn’t been aware of the dark thing that followed after him. Looming over his bed, ready to feast on him. Card had woken first, yelling for Bram to get up. But he had been petrified in fear. The face of a demon inches from his own. 

Cardelle always the  fast thinker, grabbing the bottle of holy water from the nightstand and splashing it towards the demon. The screams of pain, pulled him out of his thoughts. The demon thrashing wildly. Nails as sharp as talons, slicing open the skin on Bram’s arm,. Three deep crimson cuts embedded there. But he didn’t feel it. Bram took his brother by the hand.  Scooped up Brina who was crying in the hall for them and ran towards their parents room. Slipping into his parents closet. In this moment he was sure they were going to die. All the knowledge he thought he knew; everything he thought he learned was gone. 

Bram pulling his brother and sister closer to him. Shielding their eyes so they don’t have to see the end of things. Soft whispers of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ hang in the air between the three. That’s when he hears his mothers voice, his fathers. Bram peeks through the slits in the closet. His parents putting up a fight. Even get in a few blows but this demon is too strong. 

He will never forget the sound of flesh tearing apart . As the thing rips into both of them their screams dying out into soft gurgles as they choke on their own blood. 

Bram won’t let the other two see. Doesn’t want them to see mom and dad like this. The creature is moving towards the closet now but there are shot fired and a bright light fills the room. It shrieks and throws it’s self out the window. Or Bram thinks it does, the light has left him blinded for a while. Only making out the shapes of bodies approaching him. 

It is the familiar voices of his grandmother and grandfather, that allows Bram to relax. Silent tears falling down his face as he buries it against his grandfathers chest. His Grandfather always seemed like a giant, in that moment when he scooped him and Card up he was; grams taking Sabrina.  And as those who head the commotion began to cover up the bodies of his parents or what was left of them.  Something heavy sits on his heart. In that moment guilt settled there. Guilt of knowing that his parents died protecting them because of his stupid actions.  

 A LITTLE DEEPER 

- Bram started training with his grandfather immediately after they buried his parents. He had just turned eleven. 

-The scar of the demon that killed his parents is still visible. A reminder to himself what rushing into things cost him. 

- At the age of 15 he befriend and then 13 year old Lucky and tried to convince her that she should come and live in The Hideout with the rest of the humans. She eventually does after secretly following him and his grandfather back. Not that his grandfather was surprised as he knew the girl was following them the whole time. 

 -Always had a crush on his best friend Tyler for as long as he could remember. If he wasn’t with his siblings, or training he was spending time with Tyler and Lucky.  - Bram and Tyler got together when he was 20 years old. The were together five years before Tyler died. The pair of them trying to save Serena from the vampire that was keeping her. After his death, Bram became even more sullen with other people. With the exception of his sibling and lucky he’s not nice too many. And his disdain for feeders , demon and vampires isn’t something he’s hidden from that day forward. 

- Is very much all about his job. Making time for his kin when he can. Very protective of his little sister. Though if you ask him he is just as protective of his little brother as well. Even though they bicker and squabble like no one else. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for them. 

- Seriously if you see him napping just leave him be. You are better off. 

CONNECTIONS

Former fling(s): (open to all) After Tyler’s death. Bram didn’t really settle down with anyone . That didn’t stop him from sharing a bed with a person here or there.  

Just not into you ( open to all) This is someone that Bram can’t stand for one reason or the other. Maybe they messed with his family or maybe they’re just an asshole. Either way: he wants to hit them ever time he sees them. 

Unlikely Friends: ( Michael Fothergill) They are so similar that it a wonder how they haven’t bit each others head off-- and once for sure could if provoked. Still These two assholes have figured out a way to be friends despite wanting to punch each other and they have come to blows a few times. Then went out for drinks afterwards-- not as uncommon as one might think. 

[kileyrose-2003]

Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader: Intro

A/N: Hello lovelies! This is the beginning of the fic I posted about earlier during the week that is going to be revolved alot around Rose. How many parts It'll turn out being, I don't know. Most of this fic, I'm doing in pretty big detail and I've never written anything like this before.

I am going on a date on Valentine's Day to most likely see Birds of Prey and from what I've heard about it, my sappy Bisexual heart already has a soft spot for Harley Quinn and Roman Sionis so I probably will begin accepting request for them as well as the Dr. Sleep characters I already write for. (Doctor Sleep Request are still open) I do have 2 Rose the Hat request am I working on rn. Anyways, Criticism is welcome on this one. I hope you enjoy and all is well.

Warnings: Child abuse, sexual tension, mentioned violence against children, gore, kidnapping, the usual.

Key: Dragă is the equivalent to sweetheart in Romanian

1980:

SNAP! Rose the Hat removed the top from one of their many full cannisters. "Eat well, live long," She whispered amorously before members of The True pushed her out of the way to get a whiff of their freshest thing of steam.

She stepped back, crossing her arms as she watched The True feast. This one's name was Anthony and she could remember juiceness in the taste of his steam. Yet, she didn't want him.

She missed the feel of the hunt and seeing the steamheads squirm underneath her. Rose felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and she smiled at Crow, kissing the crook of his neck. "Aren't we quite frisky?"

"Just in love with you." He kissed her cheek and rubbed up and down her sides. "Crow.." Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. "I want you Rosie..only if you're okay with it, of course."

"You idiot, you already know the answer to that question." She smashed her lips against his and the two of them stepped into her trailers.

The noises coming from her RV were not unfamiliar to anyone who belonged to The Knot. When all was said and done, the two laid in each other's arms. Having their typically late night talks.

"There's not as much steam." Rose rolled her eyes into the back of her head. "Oh please don't be daft." She rolled over and buried her head in his bare chest. "We have three empty cannisters, not a big deal."

"It is a big deal. That's all time low for us and the kids now are being taught the whole stranger danger things. It's not as easy to lure them in."

"Well then what do you suppose we do about it? Without turning anyone." Rose looked him in the eye.

"Well, I've been thinking about it for a while...I have an idea but I don't know if you're going to want to hear it. It's a little..unorthodox." Rose raised a brow and chuckled. "Oh? Do tell because now I'm curious.

"You're going to think I'm insane, Rosie." She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you of all people know I've seen it all. Just be honest and tell me."

"What if we got a baby or a kid?" He fiddled around with his hat. Rose had to fight the urge to laugh. "A baby? What the fuck would we both do with a baby?"

"Well not exactly a baby but look, I was thinking most rube children typically tend to relate to other rube children better than adults."

"And?"

"And what if we got a child, a particularly steamy one, to help us get what we need?" Rose thought about it for a moment. "That beats the whole point of not turning anyone though. Because I know you well enough to know that eventually you will get attached to it and you'll end up wanting to turn it."

"Rosie, they wouldn't be an it. They would be family. By the time they would be old enough to be turned the cannisters would be full and she-"

"She?" Rose questioned. "Assuming it's a girl. They don't have be a girl but anyways, by that point all the cannisters would be full because we'd have them to help us find the steamheads and it wouldn't be an issue turning them because we'd have such an easier time finding steam."

Rose sighed rubbed her face. "I don't know..it's just- Crow, I'm not fit, no- we're not fit to raise children. We kill them, Crow!"

"I know but we have everything to gain and nothing to lose. Worse case we wipe the kid's mind and everything goes back to normal or we kill 'em."

Rose stared deeply into Crow's eyes and pulled his face close to her's. "I'll think about it." She kissed the top of his head and looked up at the clock on the wall. "The rubes are probably wondering when they'll hear from you. Time you get ready to get on the road, big man."

"I know," He groaned and stood up, kissing the top of her. "Just think about it?" Rose made a humming noise and kissed his hand before watching him walk away.

Rose actually did think about it for a while before bringing up the matter with the Grampa Flick while Crow was away on business and the others were asleep.

"Well..it could be worth a shot. It's really up to you though, Rosie." She took a sip of her tea. "I'm not asking for pros and cons. I want to know what you think I should do."

He gripped his cane in his hand and sighed. "I think it's worth a shot. Even if it doesn't work out, we still do end up with extra steam and it's not like we hurt for money, Rosie."

"You're sure?" Rose held her hands in his. "I'm positive." She looked him up and down as if she was analyzing him. "Okay." She stood up from the lawn chair and kissed the top of Flick's head. "You won't mention anything to Crow when he comes back and make sure the rest of the family doesn't either?"

"Not a word," He coughed. "Not a word." She nodded and smirked as she walked away.

About two days after that conversation, Rose began her search for the perfect fit for The Knot. The first two weeks she hit nothing but finally she found something.

Just outside of a resort area in Colorado, Rose discovered a small row of cookie cutter homes located on the beginnings of a mountain. While she thought the houses were very rube like, she paid them no mind. What interested her more was what laid beyond those homes.

Farther up the road if you made a left, there was a long dirt driveway that after about a mile or two, lead up to a large cabin.

At first the house seemed like nothing but ordinary at first glance but to people who shined the way The True Knot did, it was a light shining to the moths searching meaninglessly in the dark.

Hardly anyone ever came in and out of the house and took Rose over a week to actually pin you as the steamhead in the house since you did have an older brother.

You were different from the rest of your family. "Special," Rose heard your mother mutter to you one night as she tucked you though she didn't have to be in her head to know special was not the word she was actually thinking of.

She was scared of you. Your whole family was scared of you and Rose couldn't understand why. You never were particularly domineering with your gifts and you always obeyed everything they asked of you. Even staying out of there heads when they felt their minds going adrift yet, they were terrified of you.

Rose watched you for weeks, constantly consulting back and forth with Grampa Flick about whether you'd be a good fit for a group. You didn't seem to notice though, as you were preoccupied with other things in your home life and wanted nothing but to hear from at least either of your parents that they loved you.

The one night in particular, Rose got to have a front row seat on your pain. She sat up on a tree branch, swinging her legs back and forth as she stared intensely at your bedroom window. The rest of the house was dark but your room was lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Now do you see why we're so stressed out?!" Your silhouette came into view from the light colored curtains shrouding your window and Rose could make out the outline of a male much taller than standing across from you.

"I-i'm sorry, daddy!" You screamed, terror brimming from everything to your voice to your posture. "I-i can't help...I wanna be normal!" You sobbed hysterically. "Come on, dad. She can't help she is, the way she is."

"Quiet, son!" Rose shook her head, still keeping her eyes fixed you. "Fucking rubes," She muttered under her breath.

Your father's fiery gaze turned back to you. "Then why can't you be normal?!!" Rose could see him gripping your wrist and closed her eyes as she heard the sound of a hand smacking against flesh followed by a scream. "Dad!" She heard your brother yell followed by another hit, except this time a male cry radiated through the house.

Rose could take no more and began her way back to the jeep as she seen your mother's figure enter view. "What the hell is going on in here?" She could hear from the distance, the further Rose went the more she blocked out the noise.

She got in the car and watched your house for a few moments. The light went out in your room and Rose could hear no more screams. She admitted a sigh of relief and covered her face. She knew it was unhealthy to feel so attached to you. She didn't even know you but that insecurness in your voice reminded her so much of yourself and how lonely she felt when she was younger. Rose had to have you. There was no option.

When Rose shared the news with the rest of The Knot, there was hesitance at first but eventually they gave in. Knowing that she was their leader and they'd do as she intended anyways.

The next couple of days were spent carefully meditating in her RV away from the rest of The Knot and planting little worms your head. While Rose didn't think you would give her much trouble leaving home once she got in your head, she was taking no chances.

The night before she planned on taking you, Crow finally came back from business and Rose still had no intentions of telling him what she was doing. Besides an extra add on steam, she figured she could also use you as sort of a gift to Crow. An 'I'm sorry I don't listen to you and here's me making up for it.'

He knew something up when she refused to speak anyone in The Knot but didn't question it. He figured she was going through one of her moods and decided it was probably best not to say anything to her at all.

The next morning when you woke up, you felt an almost magnetic pull on your body like something or someone wanted your attention from outside. It wasn't a scary pull like the ones from whatever stray lost souls were around. This pull felt warm and safe.

You unbraided your long, Y/c/h and threw on the first dress you seen in your closet before skipping downstairs. "Where do you think you're going?" Your mother called out from the kitchen. "Just to pick some flowers." You made up.

"Don't wander to far, please." You slipped on a pair of sneakers. "I won't. I promise. I'll see you soon, mama." You blew her kiss, hoping she'd return the gesture but the older woman refused to even look at you and you stepped onto your porch dejectedly.

You closed your eyes and focused your attention to the direction of the pull. It came from the woods and you hesitated, thinking of all the ghostie people you seen come from there yet something kept telling you to just go for it.

You walked off towards the edge of the woods, letting your shine be your guide. Even though it was still day, everything was so dark and desolate around you. You felt chills on your arms the further you went and just as you were about to turn around you felt the pull grow stronger, horribly strong.

"Well, hi there!" You jumped at the unexpected voice and spun around to look at Rose. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting her to morph into one of the ghostie people but she didn't. Rose chuckled and you blushed. "..Hi." You toddled over to the much the taller woman, staring deeply into her gray eyes before she pulled you into a small hug.

The gesture was surprising but it didn't bother you. It was her aura that bothered you. Something was off about her. "I was wondering when you were going to get here." She smiled and held out a flower in her left hand. "Do you want one?"

"Yes please," You hummed in the cutest little voice, getting the feeling that this was a person you didn't want to mess with yet you thought the top hat lady in front of you had to be probably the prettiest person you'd ever seen in your short existence.

Rose smiled and slipped the flower in your hand, but not before taking it gently in her own for a second. "There you are, Y/n." Your eyes widened and Rose chuckled. "What's the matter?"

"You know my name?" Rose smirked self assuredly and ran an empty hand through your hair. "Of course I do! I know everything about you. How else did you think I was able to get you here?" Her tone was questioning but hinted on a doting nature.

You pulled away from her, still a little frightened but Rose gently gripped your wrist. "There's no need to be scared, honey. I'm special, like you." You shook your head, thinking back to what your dad said the other week and looked down a little ashamed. "Oh...I-I'm not special." You tried to deny. "Oh yes, you are. You are a very talented little girl."

(You can hear me can't you, sweetie?)

At first a feeling of panic arose inside you but it sooned bubbled over with excitement.

(I thought I was the only one!)

Rose thought about scolding you over how loud your thought came out but let it go because she too knew how happy she felt the first she knew she wasn't alone.

(You are far from the only one, Y/n. There are alot of other special people out there.)

"My friends..my very, very best friends, they're all special like us. I bet you must have friends who are so magical like you." You shook your head. "No?"

"I don't have alot of friends and my family doesn't think I'm special," You pouted. "That's because they're jealous because not all people can be special like us. Besides, I wouldn't worry about them."

"Why?" You asked sweetly. "Because I'm here to take you away from all that. I'm here to give you a family. Don't you want a family, Y/n?"

"I-i already have a family." The look in Rose's eyes scared you. It was possessive and determined. "But they're not really family though. Tell me dear, when the last time you've heard either of your parents say they love you?" You felt a pang of sadness ringing through you. "I-i should get back to my mom." Rose gripped at your wrist again, this time enough to hurt. "No, no..stay a while. See more magic."

You shook your head and struggled. "Just a fresh new start with your real family. You don't remember me and your daddy?" She held your tiny hand in her's. "No.." You said softly but now you started to question yourself. Maybe you did. Pictures of a man with black hair flashed infront of your eyes. "He loves you so much. We love you so much and we want you to come home with us. You want to come home with." For a moment you found yourself taken back by the warmth and you thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go with her.

"N-no! I can't. I won't-" Rose shushed you, sending you calming waves that started to make you feel tired and sluggish. "Or maybe I-i do wanna go home." You mumbled hesitantly, still trying to keep some grip on reality. "You do want to go home. You're happy to come home."

Every piece of control you had began to fade and your mind went blank. "I-I'm happy." Your mind finally caved and Rose held her arms open to you and you stepped into them. "Good girl. Sleep well, Y/n.." You went limp in her arms and everything went black around you.

By the next hour, any memories you had of your family would be gone and everything you ever knew would be fabrications Rose made up in your head.

Part 1: The True Knot

The fire at The Knot's campground burned bright in the mix of the setting sun when Rose arrived back at home. She stepped out of the Jeep, slinging your stirring form over her shoulder. "Mhh..wha-what's happening?" Rose shushed you and walked down hill with you. "Nothing. We just got home." There was a pause. "Do you know who I am?"

You had to think about it for a moment. "M-mama?" You asked hesitantly. "Yes," Rose hummed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You heard the crunching of leaves and turned to see people walking towards you. "Mommy?" You whispered nervously and held onto Rose's floral patterned shirt tightly, still feeling some of the residual emptiness from your true upbringing.

"Shh..it's okay, my sweet. They're family and they're just going to watch you for a few minutes. Mommy has someone she has to address in conversation and then I'll come get you. Okay?"

"O-okay." You nodded and let her hand you off to Silent Sarey as she walked off not to far in the distance to one of the larger size trailers, knocking on it before stepping inside.

"Crow?" He looked up from his copy of 'A Clockwork Orange' with a smile. "Yes, Rosie?" She plopped down in his lap. "I missed you." She kissed his ear, nipping at the cartilage. "How the business deal?"

"A waste of my time." He kissed her forehead. "Well, you were out I didn't waste my time." He raised a brow. "What are you playing at?" She smirked and turned her gaze in the opposite direction. "You can let her in now," She called out loudly.

The door to his trailer swung open and shut and you stepped inside. Crow's face went blank and he put a hand up to his chin. "Rosie, what the hell did you-"

Rose grinned and knelt down to your level. "Come here, Y/n. There's someone important I want you to meet."

You obeyed and approached Rose, letting her scoop you up in her arms. The two lovers exchanged glances but nothing was spoken out loud. "This is your daddy, Y/n."

"Hi." You smiled sweetly and Crow cracked a large grin. "Hi honey...Rosie, can I-" Rose nodded and shifted you over to Crow.

At first you tensed up but the closer you snuggled up to him, the more you relaxed. "My little darling." Rose smiled softly as he kissed the top of your head and rocked you in his arms. "I love you so much."

"I love you too daddy." Crow held you in silence for a few more minutes until he attempted to hand you off to Rose. You gripped onto his shirt tightly and buried your head in his chest. "Don't let me go," You begged. You were still so touch starved and he just felt so warm and kind.

Rose was slightly taken aback. You knew her more than Crow yet you were already attached to him. "I won't, I promise." He maneuvered you that way he was cradling you and he rocked you back and forth.

She felt a pang of jealousy growing inside her, feeling slightly threatened that you seemed to like Crow more than her but she didn't let it bother her too much. She had a feeling you were going to be a mommy's and daddy's girl.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, feeling soothed by Crow's presence. "So..are you happy?" Rose asked lowly.

"Very...Rosie?" She made a slight humming noise. "Where'd you find her?" He asked hesitantly. "A little outside the more touristy area of Colorado. The rubes she belonged to are nothing worth writing home about if you catch my drift."

He nodded solemnly. "How-what did you to her to make her-" Her warm grey eyes interlocked with his. "Do you care?" He decided he didn't. Sometimes it was best to not know anything at all.

Part 2: Danny

Your presence in The True Knot did not bring in that much of an increase in steam but you made it much easier to find steamheads which was extremely helpful to Crow in the long run.

No longer did he have to take an extra cannister for himself to find far away steamheads because all he'd have to do is ask you if you felt someone 'special like you,' close by and without knowing any better, you'd always say yes and immediately pointed him in the right direction.

Neither him or Rose let you near the rubes anymore, though. Not that long after Rose brought you home she had you try to lure a little girl over to her but the girl's parents, both big steamheads, knew better.

For you to be gone for a half an hour was normal, maybe even forty five minutes since you were a child after all and barely ever got to see kids your age, let alone like you but an hour was way too long.

What the rubes said or did to you neither Rose or Crow could figure out but the both of them agreed they didn't like the mortified expression on your face or the tears that stained your cheeks afterwards.

The two of them took turns securing their food, that way you wouldn't ever see what exactly it was that they did to your newly made friend but if Crow was being honest with himself, he probably would of admitted somewhere deep down he knew you probably knew the truth of what they did way before he would of liked you to know.

While Rose secured their meal he tried asking you alot of different ways what it was that they said or did to you but you wouldn't say. He let it slide for a while and settled on just comforting you for a while but made sure to bring up again later on when everything was all said and done with their hunt.

"You got to talk to me, Y/n," He tried his hardest to not sound like he was begging as he pulled the covers over your tiny. Rose stood in the corner of the RV and stared as if she was examining everything you said and did.

You shook your head avidly and nuzzled closely to his form. "I can't." He ran his fingers through your hair. "Why not? Honey, you know we're not mad and you're not in trouble."

"Because it would make you and mommy sad and I don't want to make either of you sad." Rose bit down on her lip as Crow thought of a reply. "Baby, you could never-"

"Leave her be, Crow," Rose interrupted. "She's had a long enough of a day and she doesn't need either of us interrogating her. When she's ready to talk about it, she will."

Crow let out a sigh and nodded. "Okay." He shut the light off above your bed and kissed both your cheeks. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Night daddy." He ran fingers through your hair one last time before stepping away.

The next morning when you woke up Rose sat across from you on your bed, lazily sipping on her tea. "Good morning, my sweet."

"Morning mommy." She plopped a kiss sloppily into your hair and handed you a cup of tea. "Can I have a little talk with you?" You nodded and set your cup of tea down on the ledge of the window.

You looked Rose deeply in the eyes and she took your tiny hands in her's. "I know you don't want to talk about what happened yesterday but I want you to know that not everything everyone says is necessarily true. You're understanding what I'm getting at?"

You nodded and Rose smiled. "Just know that no matter what, none of us would ever hurt you and we love you. Alright?"

"Okay." Rose reached inside the pocket of her jeans and pulled a necklace with a little crystal obelisk hanging from it. "This was given to me by someone very special a long time ago. You probably wouldn't know, but at one point I felt lonely like you. Maybe a little scared so they gave me this, along with my hat. My hat will always stay with me I think you need this more than I do."

She placed the necklace in your hand. "Whenever you feel, lost, scared, whatever. You squeeze that stone, and that stone will keep you safe. Got it?" You placed the necklace around your neck and nodded. "Thanks mommy." You hugged Rose tightly. "You're welcome, my dearest..I love you so much." She kissed your cheek. "I love you too, mama."

In that moment, Rose didn't care whether you even brought in steam or not. She truly just enjoyed you. It was the first time she could truly say she loved you. The whole Knot really did love you. They would do it all over again with raising you if they could and not change a thing about you or that entire duration of time. Except when they brought you to Florida.

December, 1980:

"Y/n, my love. It's morning." Rose gently shook your shoulders and you groaned. "Why are you all up so early?" You sat up and stretched. "We're going to move camp today." You raised a brow. "This early? I feel like we just got here," You whined sleepily.

"I know but daddy and I have some business to attend to." She ran her fingers through your hair. "You'll like the next place better. It has a pretty lake overlooking it and trees. There's lots of flowers there too." She paused and ran a thumb across your cheek. "We can pick some later if you want." You smiled softly. "I like flowers."

"I know you do, my sweet girl." Rose pulled you into her arms and held you for a few moments, kissing the top of your head. "Go get dressed and say good morning to daddy. He'll get aggravated if I keep asking him if we're ready to move."

You giggled and slid out of her lap. "Okay mama." You placed a tiny kiss on her cheek and picked out a bohemian dress from your dresser that Apron Annie sowed you once Rose gave her word you were the one.

"I don't think daddy could ever get mad at you." You mumbled as you slid the dress over your head. "He loves you alot. He doesn't even have to say it. I can see it in his mind." Rose smiled softly. "Daddy is a very loving man. He loves you alot too." You could tell she was trying to hide something from you and you attempted to get inside her head to figure out what she was thinking but she immediately shut you out.

"Mommy!" You whined. "Sorry sweetie. You're just not old enough yet." Rose ran a quick brush through your hair. "And then when you're old enough, you're not going to want to know." She plopped a kiss on the top of your head. "Now go on."

"Okay," You pouted and stepped outside. You seen Grampa Flick sitting outside on his lawn chair and waved. "Good morning, Grampa."

"Morning, dragă." He held his arms out to give you a hug which you immediately gave him. "Have you seen, papa?"

"His trailer." He pointed to the left. "Thanks Grampa." You kissed his cheeks and walked off in the other direction. You watched Crow fiddle a few of the bottom conpartments on his trailer before saying anything.

"Hi daddy!" Crow turned to look at you and smiled, stopping whatever he was doin. "Hey babe." He scooped you up in his arms and kissed your cheeks, his mustache tickling you slightly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good. Mama and I cuddled last night so she kept me warm." You smiled happily. "She gives good cuddles, right?"

"The best!" You smiled and nuzzled closely to him. "Daddy, what's that for?" He turned his head to the side. "What's what for, sweetie?"

"That." You pointed to the rope by his feet and he kicked it aside quickly. "Oh..nothing you have to worry about." You furrowed your little brows curiously and he smiled gamely.

Was he trying to trick you or something? Crow chuckled and kissed your cheeks. "I don't have to be in your mind to know what you're thinking." He gently set you down on your feet and knelt down to your level. "We'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay, daddy." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "Good girl. Anyways-" He ran his fingers through your hair. "What do you need?"

"Mommy wanted to know if we were ready to go. She sent me because she was afraid to ask you. I don't know why though." Crow chuckled and shook his head. "You can tell mommy, I'll be ready in about thirty minutes. Got it?"

"Got it." You skipped away and Crow let out sigh, wondering just how much longer they could hide all this from you til you got too curious for your own good.

The ride to Florida was long and didn't have that much interesting scenery. The roads were long and straight and it didn't take you long to fall asleep in the passenger seat of Rose's colossal RV.

That whole time while she knew you were fast asleep, Rose used her radio system to formulate a plan on how they were going to trap Violet. Normally one of them would stay with you while other went with the rest of the group but this time they couldn't afford to have one of them stay. From what Rose could tell at the time, this kid was big steam all though it wouldn't be til years later it was in fact the wrong child she chose to take within just a few mile radius of each other.

Once you reached the campsite Rose quickly woke you up and informed you she had some business to attend to with Crow. "Y/n, stay inside while I'm out." You let out a groan. "But mama-"

"No buts." Rose knelt down to your level and ran her fingers through your hair. "It won't be that long."

"I don't like being by myself in here though. It's scary," You whined and nuzzled into her. You pointed to the cabinet she kept all the cannisters in. "I hear things in there and it makes me feel small and it's scary."

'And see things too.' You thought but wouldn't dare say outloud. You curled into Rose and she kissed the top of your head. "Hey, it's okay..Nothing can make you feel small unless you really feel small and tell me, what are you Y/n?"

"Tiny but mighty." Rose grinned proudly. "Exactly, so no. You are not afraid. Because I know whatever you hear coming from that cabinet, you can deal with. Right?" You nodded and she ran a hand through your hair. "You still have the necklace I gave you?"

"Yes mama." You squeezed the pendant hanging from your neck. "Good, that'll keep you nice and safe." You nodded and she pressed a kiss against your head, handing you her TV remote. "I'll be back, my flower."

She gave you a slight wave before slamming the door shut behind her. You quickly ran over to her bed and buried yourself under the covers as you turned the TV on.

'Snow White' was playing on one of those channels you were scrolling through and you settled down, snuggling into the blankets. You didn't know how long the movie was on when you felt a cold hand lace their hand on top of yours.

Your blood ran cold and you squeezed your eyes as your open hand squeezed the necklace your mother gave you. "You know, this movie used to be my favorite too when I was a little girl."

You seen the face of a bloodied and clearly beaten woman infront of you and you fell backwards off of Rose's bed. "When I was alive, I thought you were a freak but now I know you're special and I never got the chance to appreciate you, my special girl."

"Please..please, go away." You squeezed the necklace as hard as you could. If you weren't in Rose's possession, you would of known who the woman standing infront of you was automatically but now you hadn't a clue. "Stay safe, my little one." Your real mother bent down to kiss your head and you let out a scream before running as far as you could. "MAMA!!" You shrieked.

Not even 15 minutes later you were farther from Rose than you even were before and The True arrived back to where a majority of their trailers were parked with a hysterical Violet in tow.

"Please let me go! My mommy will be so worried about me. Please, please, please!" She begged. None of them paid her any mind though as they began to bound her. They were so used to the screams and begs by now, it didn't bother them.

"So where are we going after this?" Crow asked, as he threw a couple of items that they would need later to various unoccupied members of The True.

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe Massachusetts, because you know how Y/n loves the snow.." Rose continued to talk as Crow zoned out, putting the left over rope in the storage compartment of his RV. "..She is in your trailer, right?" Rose closed the door to her RV.

Crow furrowed his brows. "Who?" Rose sighed inwardly. "Y/n, Crow Daddy. She is in your trailer, I hope. Because she's not in mine." He closed the compartment and unlocked the door to the trailer. "Let me see."

He walked inside and shut the door behind him, examining the space for you. "Crow, she's there right?" You weren't. A spike of panic rised in him and he ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated manner, unlocking an almost unconfident reserve on his face. "Uh, yeah..she's in there," He lied through his teeth, desperate to save him and you from Rose's wrath. "Rosie, is it okay if I stop with her really quick to get some fresh air?" He asked. "I don't care what you do. You'll be able to find your way back?"

"Sure." He smiled through gritted teeth even though Rose couldn't see him and silently cursed you underneath his breath. "Okay..tell Y/n, I love her." Rose began to walk off to her RV after making sure Barry had everything with Violet handled.

"I will.." He watched the rest of the caravan leave before getting behind the wheel and closing his eye. "Alright Y/n, let's hope my instincts are good enough."

Meanwhile a few minutes away in driving distance, as you passed the lakeside view Rose told you about, you heard noise coming from the distance and jumped back.

The more you listened though, the more you realized there was mostly children there. You walked up the small hill and watched them for a second. "So many rubes.' You thought to yourself. 'None of them like well..or not?'

You began to feel that same magnetic pull you felt from Rose the first time you encountered her and you found your eyes fixated on a boy sitting by himself.

You felt attached to your family but never did you feel such a connection strangers and you didn't know why. It wouldn't be until years later, you would put two and two together and realize the person infront of you was in fact your soulmate.

Despite your fear of all the rubes around you carefully approached the stranger sitting on the bench, not daring to put your guard down.

"You mind if I sit next to you?" The little boy shook his head and you sat down next to him. "What's your name?"

"..Danny." You smiled. "That's a nice name. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." He didn't say anything back but you didn't mind. Your parents were both mostly laid back but if there was a thing they were big on, it was respect.

"..nice to meet you too. Sorry, I'm just having an off day." You shrugged. "I'm okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..you wouldn't understand." The more you looked at him the more, the more you could tell he wasn't exactly so rube like.

(Is it because of this?)

The boy sitting next to you looked at you blankly. "Danny, I know you can hear me," You said softly. "No..not because of that. Well..maybe a little. She'll just keep coming until she gets me. I don't care what Dick says."

"Who will come and get you?" You asked then blushed. "Sorry, I shouldn't of pried." Dan shrugged dismissively and looked up towards his apartment building and pointed to the bathroom. "The lady in the bathroom."

A decaying woman flashed infront of your eyes and your posture stiffened. "You can see her, right?"

"Yeah, I see her..If it makes you feel better, I see scary things too sometimes." You took his hand in your equally tiny ones. Dan felt the urge to pull away from you but there was this warm element to you that made him feel comforted by you.

"Really?" You nodded solemnly and moved your hand away from his to take a necklace of your neck. It had a little crystal obelisk hanging from the bottom if it. "My mommy gave this to me for when I get scared. If you squeeze the crystal, it's supposed to make you feel safe." He said nothing and you put the obelisk in his hand. "I think you need it more than I do."

"You're sure?" You nodded and for the first time in a while, Danny Torrance actually gave a hint of a smile.

(Thanks, Y/n.)

(You're welcome.)

"Y/n?" You could hear someone calling your name and you turned around. "Y/n, honey?" You looked at Dan. "That's my daddy. I have to go before I get in trouble. Bye Danny."

"Bye." He was a person of very few words but it didn't bother you in the slightest. All you knew was you didn't want your dad to see him. You didn't know what was going on but you knew something wasn't right.

"Y/n?" You sprinted towards him. "Daddy!" You exclaimed. Crow's eyes went wide with relief. "Y/n." Your father pulled you close to him. "Don't you run off like that EVER again. You understand me?" You could see his infrequent temper in his eyes and you were quick to nod. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-i-" Crow didn't bother to wait for a response from you before he continued speaking.

"People out here are bad, Y/n. They'd hurt you in a heartbeat." He cupped the sides of your face. "Do you know or did you even think about how upset your mother and I would be if you just disappeared?"

You felt your heart sink and your lips trembled. You knew there was a possibility they might do bad things but that didn't mean you didn't love them because of it. You felt so selfish and cruel. "I-i didn't think about it. I'm sorry daddy.." Your eyes watered as you looked down at the ground and he sighed. "Just don't do it again, got it?" He wiped one of your tears away. "Yes daddy. Y-you're not going to tell mommy, are you?"

Crow kissed your cheeks gently. "No, I won't tell her. I think this can be our little secret. What do you think?" You let out a giggle and Crow smiled. "That's my girl. Come on, let's get you back to the caravan before mom notices we're gone because you know how she gets."

You nodded and held your arms out to Crow who immediately scooped you up. You wrapped your tiny arms around his neck and nuzzled closely to him as he carried you away.

(Y/n?)

You smiled softly as you felt that little ping in your head.

(Yeah, Danny?)

(Am I ever going to see you again?)

You paused before responding.

(Maybe. I hope so because I like you Danny.)

(Me too, Y/n.)

You felt one of Crow's finger poking your shoulder and you pulled yourself out of your thoughts. "Yes, daddy?" You asked. "Did you feel someone steamy?" He whispered in your ear.

You thought about telling the truth but thought of Danny. You only just met him but something deep down told you, you couldn't let him get hurt. Maybe..just maybe, all rubes weren't so bad after all. "No, daddy," You lied.

"You're sure?" He pressed. "I'm sure." Crow sighed and patted your back. It would of been nice to have double the amount of steamheads but he supposed Violet would be enough to sustain them for a while. Besides, beggars couldn't be choosers and he trusted you enough to think you wouldn't lie to him. "Okay, honey.."

The next time you would see Danny Torrance after that fateful December day, would be 26 years later and by that time any bridge you had built with The True Knot would be burned.

[lilacmoon83]

It’s Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus

also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Summary:

When Henry, a virgin, lights the Black Flame candle in his Grandpa Gold's shop on Halloween night, he accidentally brings the return of three witches. But these aren't the Sanderson sisters. This brings the return of the Black Fairy, along with Yzma and Cruella De Vil. The three proceed to wreak havoc on Storybrooke. It's up to the Charmings, Golds, and Regina to thwart their plot and make sure their stay isn't permanent.

Part 2

Henry held Summer's hand, as they ran with Violet beside him.

"This is bad...this is really bad. My grandparents and my mom are gonna kill me," Henry fretted.

"Yeah...I'd hate to be you right now," Violet agreed, as they ran toward the costume shop, only to find that his family was no longer there. But Yzma cut them off at the pass.

"Time to play, kiddies," she hissed, as several ghoulish apparitions appeared at the command of her magic. Chaos erupted in the store and on the streets outside, as people scattered frantically.

"Henry...my bubbles won't work," Summer cried.

"I know, they stole all the magic. We'll have to fight the old fashioned way," he replied.

"With what?" Violet asked frantically. Henry grabbed a wooden prop sword from one of the shelves.

"It will have to do," he said, as he started fighting them off, before tossing one to Violet. But it wasn't helping much and they were slowly being surrounded.

"Bring me the little one! Her soul will make a fine morsel for my first meal," Yzma ordered. Summer screamed and covered her face, but the ghoul after her was suddenly eradicated with fire. The Phoenix bird cawed loudly and landed on the shoulder of her big brother.

"Leo!" she called in relief, as she started running toward him.

"Not so fast, you little brat!" Yzma called, as she chased the girl. But Leo was ready and extracted his sword from the scabbard strapped to his back. He charged the old hag, but she used magic to push him back. Leo growled and got to his feet again, before picking Summer up.

"Come on...this way," he said, as he led the two teenagers away from the witch.

"You can run kiddies...but you can't hide," Yzma warned...

~*~

Belle and Rumple were enjoying a nice day together with Gideon. They had decided to take a picnic to the park and were content to watch Gideon play. Tink and Neal had just joined them. Until a familiar and frightening figure appeared before the boy, causing them to rush to him.

"How is this possible?" Belle uttered, as Fiona stood before them.

"Hello son…" she said, as she looked at her grandson.

"You were foolish to leave the black flame candle out in the open for some careless virgin to light," she added.

"Black flame candle...what is she talking about?" Neal asked.

"A magical artifact that is said to revive witches on Halloween night. Don't worry...she'll be dust again in the morning," Rumple replied. Fiona chuckled.

"Unless I manage to feast on the souls of the children in Storybrooke...in which case, I shall gain immortality," she countered. Belle held Gideon close, as the woman was suddenly looking at him like he was, indeed, her next meal.

"Rumple…" she started to say.

"It's not going to happen, Belle," he promised, as he attempted to conjure a fireball, but frowned when the magic didn't heed his call. She cackled.

"The lighting of the candle has sucked up all the magic in Storybrooke for me and my accomplices to use," she hissed, as she blasted him away.

"Papa!" Gideon and Neal cried, as the latter helped him to his feet.

"Why do you even have a candle that can do this?" Neal griped, as he gestured toward the Black Fairy.

"I have many artifacts in my shop, some of which can be dangerous. I'd just like to know who got into my shop and was stupid enough to light it," Rumple growled.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked that. It is thanks to another in our bloodline that I'm here now," she stated. Neal's eyes widened.

"Henry did this?!" he exclaimed.

"Enough of that for now...we need to get Gideon out of here," Tink," suggested, as they began running from her.

"Go...I can't run with no magic here. Get him to safety!" Gold called, as Fiona gave chase.

~*~

Snow and Charming arrived home, with their kids in tow, minus Summer, having had a successful trip to the costume shop. They didn't worry about her though, for they trusted Henry and she was always safe with him.

"Okay...we have about an hour until we need to start getting ready for trick or treating and the party," Snow called, as she went into the kitchen. David was about to follow her when his phone rang.

"Sheriff," he answered.

"Oh dahling...you sound so sexy on the phone. What are you wearing?" Cruella leered. Charming went rigid, for their was no mistaking the voice on the other end. But it was impossible...it had to be. Though, he had learned a long time ago that impossible and Storybrooke were akin to each other. On the other hand, it could be a Halloween prank too.

"Funny...that's a great prank," he quipped.

"Oh, it's no prank, dahling...I'm alive and well in the flesh," Cruella responded.

"That's not possible," he refuted.

"I understand your skepticism...so why don't you come out and see for yourself. Mummy would so love to see you," she purred. He paled and slowly walked toward the door, as he opened it.

"David?" Snow called, as she joined him in curiosity. His mouth was ajar, as none other than Cruella De Vil, in the flesh as she had promised, stood in their yard.

"Oh...there you are. You're looking as yummy as ever, dahling," she purred.

"How the hell are you alive?" Snow demanded to know. She cackled.

"You have your foolish grandson to thank for this. He shouldn't play with ancient artifacts in the Dark One's shop that he doesn't understand," she said, noticing the tiny boy clinging to her leg.

"What do you want?" David growled..

"Oh so many things. New furs, gin, diamonds, gin, to see what's underneath that tight shirt and jeans you wearing...did I mention gin?" she asked.

"I don't understand how this is possible…" he refuted.

"It's my fault, Gramps...I lit the black flame candle and revived her, among others," he admitted, as Summer ran to her father.

"Others?" Snow asked.

"The Black Fairy and Yzma…" Violet responded. David sighed.

"How is that possible? Doesn't bringing back the dead defy the laws of magic?" David asked.

"Oh yes...it does, but you see my resurrection is limited to Halloween night, chisel chin," Cruella quipped.

"Unless...I can suck the lives out of some brats to sustain me before the night is over," she added, as she eyed Summer and Bobby. Snow glared her.

"Over my dead body, you two-toned hag," she growled.

"Oh, how I would love to make that come true, dahling. Imagine the legend I'd become if I put you back in your little glass coffin," Cruella retorted.

"Enough!" David called and she gave him a hungry gleam.

"Yes...get angry, dahling…" she purred. He rolled his eyes.

"That's enough from you…" Emma said, as she tried summoning her magic, which only made Cruella cackle evilly.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that? The candle sucked all the magic for only us to use...so I called an old friend," Cruella said, as Maleficent, in her dragon form flew above them.

"Oh no…" Snow uttered.

"We need to find Leo...even without magic, he still may be able to get through to her," David said, as he picked Bobby up and she took Summer's hand, as they ran for the truck. Emma, Henry, and Violet got into the box of the truck, while Snow and David got into the cab with the children. David's tires squealed, as he took off away from town with the dragon following them from above.

~*~

Cruella smirked, as she joined her fellow witches back at Gold's shop.

"Is it done?" Fiona asked. Cruella huffed and threw her fur boa around her neck, as she glided into the shop.

"Of course dahling...I kept up my end. Maleficent is distracting the Charmings as we speak," she said.

"And you?" Fiona asked, as she turned to Yzma.

"I tried to gather children...but they run in fright from me," the old hag complained. Fiona rolled her eyes and Cruella snickered.

"Well, it's no wonder. That's a face that would send anyone screaming," she commented, as she touched up her lipstick in a compact mirror.

"Watch it...puppy skinner," Yzma growled.

"Enough! Need I remind you both that if we do not suck the lives out of the children of Storybrooke before dawn...then we're all dust again?" she questioned.

"What do brats even like?" Yzma questioned. Cruella's eyes lit up.

"Candy! The filthy little mongrels are going from house to house tonight collecting treats. But I have an even better plan to lure some snot nosed little brats to us," Cruella said, as she left the shop to enact her own plan. Fiona growled.

"Why was I cursed with such idiot sidekicks?!" she hissed.

"Just lucky I guess," Yzma responded. Fiona grabbed the twit by the collar and glared at her.

"Find me children! I'm not going back to that dreadful Underworld!" she demanded, as she stalked out, leaving Yzma to her own devices. The ancient witch looked around the shop and found some costumes in a trunk.

"Hmm...this just might work," Yzma said.

~*~

David drove to an open field on the outskirts of town, before parking the truck. Leo jumped out of the box and ran to to try to reason with Maleficent. Without magic, he had to rely on his natural ability with animals, rather than his magic to communicate with them.

"Leo...be careful!" Snow cried, as David put his arms around her.

"He'll be fine, my darling," he said, trying to convince them both.

"Maleficent...please! Don't let Cruella control you like this! I know you're stronger than that!" he called, as he dodged the fire that she breathed down on him. He rolled away and then got to his feet again, before closing his eyes and concentrating. He reached out with his feelings, much like he had done in a time before magic came to Storybrooke, and spoke with his heart. Maleficent landed before him, as he spoke to her without words and she calmed considerably. He walked toward the dragon, imploring her to listen to him and overcome Cruella's control. And in a puff of magenta smoke, the dragon disappeared and Maleficent appeared in its place. He sighed in relief.

"Thank you Leo," she said gratefully. He nodded, as his family ran to meet them.

"How is Cruella back?" she asked. Henry sighed.

"It's my fault...I screwed up really bad," he admitted. Emma put her hands on his shoulders.

"We'll figure this out, kid," she assured.

"You should go back home and protect Lily," Snow suggested. Maleficent agreed and hurried back toward town, just as David's phone rang and Emma's did as well.

"Sheriff," they both answered, as they each took the call. Snow heard her husband sigh.

"We'll be right there," he said.

"Yeah...someone will be right there," Emma said.

"What's going on?" Snow asked.

"Cruella is trying to pull some idiotic stunt at the animal shelter," he said.

"Same with Yzma...she's at the hospital. Eva is trying to deal with her, but there's a lot of kids there," Emma replied.

"You and Emma go deal with Cruella. Leo, Henry, Violet, and I will deal with the Dinosaur," Snow said, referring to Yzma. He nodded and kissed her tenderly, as Snow took Summer's hand.

"Be careful," he implored. She nodded.

"You too...Cruella is the worst," she reminded. He nodded and they parted ways, each group set on dealing with one witch.

~*~

"Seriously...of all the people that could come back. One of them had to be Cruella," Emma complained, as they arrived at the shelter.

"Yeah...she is definitely a nightmare," David agreed, as he visibly shuddered.

"I just hope we're not too late and she's not wearing any animals yet," he added, as the receptionist motioned them into the back.

David sighed, as he spied the fur clad woman in the room, surrounded by an assortment of adorable puppies.

"Yes...you are all going to make mummy the most wonderful new coat, yes you are," Cruella cooed.

"That's not happening," David said, as he stepped into the room and suddenly her predatory gaze was on him.

"Well...hello Sheriff Chisel chin. Love the badge, dahling. Did it come with handcuffs?" she purred. The look on Emma's face was one of pure disgust.

"Seriously?" she complained.

"Out Cruella...you're not taking some poor puppies so you can make a coat out of them," he told her. She pouted.

"Oh poo...you're spoiling all my fun," she whined, as she sauntered closer to him.

"Of course, there's other things we could do, dahling. Very entertaining things," she purred, as she undressed him with her eyes. David batted her hand away.

"Not interested and never going to be interested," he retorted.

"So...I thought the whole point of you being revived was so you could perform the terrifying task of sucking the life from children. Cause if you don't you're dust in the morning," Emma said, as she crossed her arms over her chest. Cruella rolled her eyes.

"And your point?" she asked. Emma gestured around them.

"Clearly there's no children here...just puppies," she reminded. Cruella scoffed.

"Well, I had a brilliant plan before you two spoiled it! I was going to take the puppies with me and use them to lure the little brats right to me," she said.

"And then once I had my eternal life, these little mongrels were going to make mummy a new coat," she cooed at them.

"Seriously...what kind of terrible backstory do you have that makes you want to hurt something so pure," Emma asked, as she cuddled one of the puppies and it licked her face. Cruella cackled at her question.

"Well...my backstory is that I'm a really terrible person," she answered. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"You know, some people struggle to keep the darkness at bay, but I've always been the girl to jump in with both feet and play," she mused.

"Okay...on that incredibly disturbing note, you're under arrest," David said, as he moved to cuff her.

"Ooohh...as much as I'd love to let you use those on me, dahling, I must be going," Cruella said, as she surprised him using her green magic to shove him against the wall.

"Yes...all tied up. Oh the fun we could have together," she purred, as she traced a finger along his neck and then fingered the buttons on his shirt. Emma cocked her gun.

"Hands off my Dad, you furry psycho," Emma warned. Cruella pouted.

"You've spoiled all my fun, just like your mother used to," the fur clad woman complained, as she disappeared in a puff of smoke. David sighed in relief, as he was released.

"We better get to the hospital in case she pops up there to wreck more havoc with one of her partners," he suggested. Emma holstered her weapon, as they left.

~*~

Eva and Paul glared at the horrible witch, as she stood before them, in a very bad costume that was painful to the eyes.

"Come little children...I'm Tinkerbell and I'm here to whisk you off to Neverland!" Yzma said in a fake, high-pitched voice. She was dressed in a sparkly green dress that hung haphazardly on her bony, wrinkled figure.

"Seriously...this is a really nauseating sight," Paul commented, as they guarded all the children that were visiting for trick or treating from Ella's daycare.

"Yeah...Tink is going to be horrified," Eva agreed.

"Come little children...I'm Tinkerbell," she called, as little Bobby marched up to her.

"Bobby...no!" Eva cried, as she reached for him.

"Hello little boy...how would you like to come with me?" she cooed and then yelped in pain, as Bobby hauled off and kicked her in the shin.

"You not Tinkerbell!" he cried, as Eva pulled him back.

"Why you wretched little heathen! For that, I'm going to make sure I suck you dry first!" Yzma threatened, as she raised her bony hand to them. Eva gasped and clutched him close, as she prepared to take a magical blow for her baby brother. But she wouldn't have to, as Yzma was suddenly beamed over the head with the wooden end of a broom. She fell to the floor in a daze, as Snow tossed the broom down and then rushed to her children.

"Nice one, Mom," Eva said, as the other raven haired beauty scooped her baby boy up.

"I kicked the bad lady, Mommy," Bobby announced, as she cuddled him.

"I know...I'm so proud of you, baby," she gushed, as they watched Yzma flail her arms comically.

"This isn't over!" she promised, as she disappeared in a puff of yellow smoke.

"Ugh...her wearing that outfit is stomach churning," Snow commented.

"Yeah…" Paul agreed, as he looked a little green.

"Honey, can you and Paul stay here with Bobby and the other children? We need to track her down," Snow said.

"Yes of course...go!" Eva urged.

"Yeah...there's a lot of children out on the streets tonight," Paul said, as they left Summer with Eva and Paul, before hurrying out.

[dnd-inspiration]

Anon

Hey, so do you have any tips on writing a short campaign, (maybe, 1 or 2 sessions)? I have a lot of new players, and they want to get a feel for the game with a short story. I have ideas, but im not sure how to tie them up in a satisfying but quick ending. Please help if you can!

1. Simple is best. This idea can take just a few sessions: An evil necromancer who hid in the local “dead forest”. Raises all the local dead animals to protect him from a large guild that has finally tracked him down. He can be found by following a trail of dead plant life. You can drag the campaign out like so: Having the PCs come across a distraught farmer who doesn’t know where his cows went. Find them. Then the PCs come across some ritual looking graves. Then the PCs have to debate if its a human mass grave, or just the local animal carcass dumb, and so on. The forest is sprawling.

2. Start out with an established miniature backstory your PC’s can customize and work with. Its easier to say “You guys work for [company] due to [your individual reasons] and your latest task has you doing [x].” or my favorite “You wake up with a massive headache, bottles all around you. What happened?” Most of my first session is character introductions, why are we here, what is my character's motivation for being in the group, etc etc.

@cocoa-n-donuts

Hi! I’m currently a level 9 (yay just levelled!) eladrin arcane archer fighter 6 and mystic 3 in a homebrew campaign. The idea of the character was for me to have telekinetic powers that help focus my arrows. However, as my party and I levelled, my DM and I realised that the current UA material and stuff in Xanathar’s doesnt scale quite well for the arcane archer in comparison to the warlock and paladin. Any suggestions to help improve the arcane archer subclass?

Not gonna lie, I’m really bad when it comes to rules and stats and changes. I’m more of an ideas girl. That said, lets make some crazy shit up to help you out! I don’t have Xanathar (assuming its a book?) so If my suggestions are in it, awful, or unhelpful sorry! You can try a straight up damage buff like a +2, or adding poison damage. You could be useful by having your arrows make noises for distraction, or intimidation. Fire it above a door, lure guards over with “cries of help” or scare them away with a beasts howl. Arrows that start fires, or release a flood of water, or electrify the area. Arrows that drop random horrors like teeth, black goop, etc.

@ anon

H E L P!! IN A CAMPAIGN I'M IN OUR PARTY CAN MAKE ONE OF OUR MEMBERS ABLE TO HAVE A CARRYING CAPACITY OF 32MILLION TONS???????? HELPPLEASE!!!

You need help to carry 32million tons, or a player of yours can and its a problem?

First one: A magical mount? Magical gloves/bag that can ONLY be used if its carrying 32million tons minus a few lbs?

Second one: Curse them to wear these boots that are like, super heavy. Make them physically have to carry it. A bag that fits that much stuff is going to be HUGE and not fit through doors.

@superflyingthing

I’m going have a Lv5 party escape a magical casino/resort where the boss feeds of the souls of brainwashed party goers. So far I have sneaking around the casino and blending in, fighting a giant circus lion, and a magic go kart race. Do you have any suggestions for encounters in this setting?

Smoke filled section has some sneaking. A giant pool party filled with croc people servers! Cocktail waitresses who want to serve you poison or stall you! Card dealers who throw small weapons that can be hidden with cards, [monster that  can act as a security camera for cheating] tracks you.

@thevoidknight

I'm making my own campaign that takes place on a continent that 11 meteors fell to. 10 green, one blue. The blue has spread a eternal blizard over the land and the green cyristals fend it off. Thus cities rose around them. The catch is anyone lost and alone comes back as part of a undead horde(I wrote up some interesting special and magical undead). This horde is has been waging war against the cites for a long time now. My question is, why would my plays come to a God forsaken place?

1. Something came with the meteors. Its valuable. 2. Finding a lost friend/family member. 3. Paid to see if x region is also infected or not.

I'm doing my first campaign as a DM, and I'm roped with 7 players, fun, but really I do this story I've been mulling over, 7 demon lords, one for each sin, and I wanted to subvert expectations, like it will seem like a rich miserly noble who taxes unfairly might be corrupted by the greed demon lord but I would make it the Robin hood esque npc who's corrupted by pride and his desire for fame and attention. trying to find more creative sin uses.

Gluttony: Ran a foodbank. Stockpiles all the food. Steals all the local animals and starts to set up a feast for himself. Maybe throw in some humans too.

Lust: Has a really, really big thing for flesh. Collects it, wants more.

Pride: I got nothing, sorry.

Sloth: A high ranking official whose duty is to take care of things just… doesn’t care. Doesn’t move, doesn’t delegate, does nothing. Makes others do things for them like bathe, feed, etc. Punishes people who won’t help them.

Envy: ????

Wrath: Demon attaches to the most wronged man in the village. He’s nice, but had bad luck. Rogue carriage kills his wife, his crop is burned from a party gone out of control., etc.

A lot of these are so old I think answering them would be pretty pointless. Please feel free to resend asks, send new ones, or ask for more details or different answers! Also feel free to reblog or reply to this post with more advice or ideas for these people’s questions.

If you would like me to NOT post your question, please tell me that when you send me your question. I finally have my new place and have internet set up so I’m happy to answer your questions and finally post more! Please feel free to send me your art, ideas, inspiration requests, etc!

[feynites]

Sharp and Shiny Circle AU

The latest (well, written) Aili x Uthvir AU! Co-written with @lillotte17, wherein Aili is a Circle Mage (of sorts) and the Nightmare is the tower’s resident haunt.

Aili is six when her magic first comes to her. Trapped and screaming in the dark of a small cave. Petrified and all alone. Her desperation manifests in an explosion of heat and flame that nearly kills her along with the scurrying beasts she had been trying to fend off. As luck would have it, the blast also manages to knock a fair amount of stone and earth loose from the mouth of the cavern where it had collapsed in on itself earlier when a deafening crash of thunder and lightning had sent the whole place quaking. It takes nearly twenty minutes of burrowing on her part, but she escapes, filthy and crying and slightly singed, but wholly alive.

Even if she is also somewhat scraped and bruised and terrified.

The storm that had caused her to seek shelter in the first place is still raging, though not quite as fiercely as before. She finds herself soaked through, and much farther from Clan Lavellan’s campsite than she had meant to wander, as night begins to fall in the forest. She makes attempts to find the hunting trails her mother had shown her. Halla tracks. Underbrush crushed flat by the wheels of their aravels. But everything looks the same to her eyes in the failing light of day.

Aili trudges aimlessly for a while; slathered in mud from her bare toes clear up to her knees, in what she thinks must be the direction she came from. She can hardly see anything anymore, and her teeth are chattering from the cold settling into her bones, and she wonders if she could maybe make the fire in her hands again. Just to keep warm, and help her find her way.

The first few tries yield no results, but after a while, she discovers that if she screws her face up and concentrates very hard, a half dozen or so tiny sparks will flare around her fingers. She can't quite seem to hold it, so she just keeps walking, and shooting out little puffs of fire every now and then to get a better sense of where she might be headed.

Eventually, she comes upon a road. Which is distressing. The Dalish do not typically use roads, unless the terrain offers no other safe means of travel. Roads mean human settlements. Bandits. Templars. Danger.

Aili crouches down by the foot of a tree and hides her face in her hands. Crying hard, and finally resolved to the fact that she is utterly, hopelessly lost.

Hours pass, until night has well and truly fallen, and there is nothing to see by except for the faintest pinpricks of starlight through the trees. She is stiff with cold, and her clothes are stiff with mud. Her stomach growls loud enough to rival a bear. And she finds that she is almost too exhausted to fall asleep.

Too exhausted to notice when the sound of creaking wooden wheels and a rattling cart being drawing closer to her on the road.

She jerks suddenly into wakefulness, thinking that perhaps it is the sound of an approaching aravel. Bounding to her feet with a joyful cry. A few more of her little sparks to come bursting out of her in excitement.

The horse shies and rears, making a terrible screeching whinny, that has her dashing back towards the side of the road again.

But it is too late.

A pair of figures get down from the cart. A short scrawny man, and a tall dark-skinned woman holding a lantern. They seem mostly interested in seeing to their horse, and making certain the creature does not turn their cart over, and Aili hopes against hope that if she stays very quiet, perhaps they will not think to look for her.

"Here now, Bess, what's got you all a flutter?" the man asks his horse, peering out into the darkness. He seems genuinely surprised when he catches sight of her, and Aili wonders if it would be worth it to try and run away. "Hello there, little one! What are you doing out here in the dark?"

"Raff, you don't suppose tha' flash of light came from her, do ya?" the woman beside him mutters in a deep sooty voice.

"Calm down, Vel, " Raff chides her, "It's jus' a little girl."

He turns back to Aili with a smile. As he walks a few steps closer, she can make out the pointed tips of his ears. Her shoulders relax slightly.

An elf.

Even if he is travelling with a human woman, surely one of her own people would not let anything too terrible happen to her.

"D'you drop your candle in the mud, sweetheart?" he asks her kindly.

Aili knots her fingers together, and shakes her head 'no'. Papae always told her to tell the truth, and Mamae said to respect her elders. And both of them told her not to leave the boundaries of the campsite on her own. They're going to be so mad at her…

The man makes a face, and the woman makes a sound of smug triumph.

"You can make lights with no candles or lanterns?" Raff checks, eyeing her up in a way that makes her wholly uncomfortable. She thinks that he does not want the answer to be 'yes', for some reason. She almost feels brave enough to lie to him about it, but before she can quite muster the courage, the fire poofs out around her fingertips again. He jumps away from her with a curse.

"Get back in the wagon before she sets the whole woods ablaze!" he hisses at his companion, taking her firmly by the elbow. The woman wrenches herself away from him, and gives him such a scathing look, that Aili doesn't imagine he could look more cowed if she had hit him.

"What kind of man are you?" Vel snaps in reply, "You really gonna leave some child out here by her lonesome to get et up by bears and wolves? Probably some poor little urchin cast out by them wild elves that camp in these parts. They toss em out when there're too many wot got magic, don't they? Don't even try to send them to the Circles for proper learnin'. Better off dead than with humans, or some tripe like that. Shameful is what it is."

The man gives her another assessing once-over, and Aili is not quite sure what they are talking about anymore. Wild elves? Magic? Do they think she is a Keeper?

When Raff steps over to her again, he seems wary, but also strangely sad.

"Are you hungry?" he wonders softly.

"Yes," Aili lisps out, too desperately famished to hide it.

"You come with me an' Vel, we'll get you taken care of," he tells her, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll get a nice warm meal in you, and clean you up good and proper, and in the morning, we'll make sure you end up where you belong."

"I wanna go home," Aili says in what is almost a sob, her fingers tightening around Raff's. He has very warm hands. Callused and rough, like her father's.

"It'll be home soon enough," he promises.   

~

It is not often that the Nightmare finds itself trapped, in any significant capacity.

Carelessness, it thinks. A lack of precaution. It is always a lack of precaution which leads to such things. The trick, of course, is knowing what precautions to take. It thought it had, but, time had proven that arrogant. The twisting layers of its realm had been cracked an age ago, when The Body, up above, had finally been destroyed. Blood and lyrium and torn pieces. It had rushed to try and gather what it could, before the memories were all torn away. It would be easier to forget, of course. Easier and more peaceful. But...

That is a luxury they offer to others. Not themselves.

Itself.

Regardless, past is past. The Nightmare had hurried to try and hold onto the pieces, and in so doing, had finally been dislodged from the nest it had built up across the centuries. Dragged closer to the currents of the Waking World, the place it was drawn to; the place most dangerous to it. It would need to build another nest, to go back to its waiting ways. Feeding, in the darkness, on fears and the foreboding dreams of a broken world. But with the memories it had scrambled to catch, the siren's lure of the Waking World had called that much more strongly to it.

Folly.

The mages which had tried to bind it had failed, in part. They had been easy to overwhelm. Their fears were dark, and deep, and in the throws of their terror and paranoia, they had turned on one another. Thoughts of betrayal became a reality, as the trio tore into one another. But their trap was less easily rent apart than their flesh. The Nightmare found itself restricted to a certain quarter of the Fade. Looming and lingering in it, in the shadows below a Circle. And in circles, it wandered. Never starving, of course, for the Circle of the Waking World knew no dearth of fears and dread. But it was too weak to simply break free. To return to its half-forgotten quest, of waiting and seeking safe ways to return.

So, it remained. Feasting on nightmares, growing and growing, as other, lesser demons clustered in its wake, seeking to prey upon the mages above. Seeking folly, for these demons were young, and did not understand the bite of blades, or the heavy weight of the world they sought. They had never known it.

The Nightmare had.

It remembered. Not perfectly. But enough.

It is there for a long time, before it meets Her.

Another mage. Elven. Small. She has been in the Circle for some years. Bad dreams, of spiders and shadows, and losing people. Being lost and trapped. Forgetting. Normal fears for any Circle mage. The Nightmare had not seen her fully until the Harrowing. That was when it saw most mages for the first time. Pulled into the Fade, trapped among the demons, with swords at their backs. It had made a habit of watching many Harrowings, but rarely interfered. Most of the mages of this Circle were humans. Round-eared, pale-faced, caught in fleeting years. They did not seem... right, for any opportunities beyond providing sustenance. The templars were always close, on the other side.

But this... She is different.

An elf, yes, darker and more fair than most of the others in this place, small and bright-eyed and steady as she walks into the dream. That alone would not be enough to capture its interest, and yet, the Nightmare finds itself drawn in. There is something about her face. It does not quite grasp what, but the fact that is drawn at all compels it, and brings it in further. It remembers... a woman of importance. Or women? Someone. She?

The Lady?

A beating heart. Heartbeat...?

The mage has one of those, certainly, though as with all others who come to be Harrowed, the continued beating of Her heart hangs on a thin thread.

The lesser demons move in. A demon of Anger is the most potent in this region, apart from the Nightmare, but it is still not much compared to them. Fear is the most potent resource in this place. The Nightmare is drawn into the dream as well, though. Unprecedented. The Harrowing trap is not strong enough to hold it, not like the ancient summoning, built into the lines of this Circle. But its own interest in Her is enough that they are swept up by the currents of summoning anyway.

They could leave. The Lady is dangerous, they know that. The mage does not seem to be much of a threat, but appearances are deceiving.

But...

They have seen mages killed by the lesser demons in these Harrowings. By the templars, too. Their deaths echoing through the Dreaming, as they are cut down before it is done. The fear they feel in those moments is potent. The Nightmare has built minions of it, a thousand spiders that lurk in the corners of the Circle, and gnaw at the walls of their prison. If She dies, then they will never know what has drawn themselves to her. That could be dangerous as well. A persistent mystery, perhaps bound to strike again, at a less opportune moment.

The Nightmare culls the lesser demons in the dream. Spirits drawn in of their own volition flee, before it can catch them. It calls spiders to close off the edges of the dream, and silences the summoning. Snuffs out most of the lights, until the dream is all but empty, save for shadows and the clicking of dozens of legs, crawling over stone floors. The little mage stands in the middle of a chamber, and hastily summons a light. She clutches her staff close. The Nightmare can feel her fear growing, rather than receding. Despite the fact that the lesser demons are all gone, now.

They move closer. Their wings stretch out from their back, nearly as dark as the darkness they have called, and their own many legs tap across the floor with a louder, less hurried clack-clack-clack.

The fear grows. What's coming, what's that, where did all the spirits go, why has it all gone dark, what's moving in the shadows...?

She brightens the light in her hand, and sets it onto the top of her staff. Bracing her feet apart. Her grip is white-knuckled, and her fear tastes familiar...

She does not like spiders.

The Nightmare does not know where the knowledge comes from. Not the usual place of knowing such things, although... perhaps it is? It is disorienting, for a moment. The light is brittle and too bright, and it cannot remember if it is hunting or seeking, or if it is afraid of this Lady, or if it is here to listen to the beating of her heart. It draws closer, and spreads the darkness. Swallows the light. The mage tries to make another, but they catch her before she can. Her skin crackles with magic, and her staff slams against their wing. Hard enough to hurt, but, as they touch her. the Nightmare almost knows... knows...

"Vhenan."

I don't want to die!

They let go of her.

The dream is starting to come undone. The templars are moving closer in the Waking side. The Nightmare considers for a moment, and then withdraws. With no demons to hold the Harrowing, the dream breaks, and the dreamer wakes.

~

The Circle never feels like home.

It is a cold, cramped place, with bars across the windows, and a lone flat courtyard with high stone walls. The only place Aili is permitted to be outdoors, where all the mages practice the approved fighting spells, and tend to herbs and flowers. And she occasionally slips her shoes off and wriggles her toes in the soft cool grass, and tries to recall the distant smell of forests.

She cries a lot in the early days of her captivity. Frightened of the faceless metal masks of the Templars. Of the flat-toned Tranquil with their blank expressions. Of the thought of never seeing her parents or her clan again. Of the dark spindle-legged monsters that chase her through her dreams.

Aili tries to explain to the First Enchanter that there has been some horrible mistake. She was naughty, but her parents would never simply abandon her. She tries to convince them that she is not a mage, tries to hide her powers as best she can, but her anxieties seem to bring it to the surface, manifesting in sparks of lightning and tiny spurts of flame.

There are very few elves in this particular Circle, and she is the only one not from an alienage. 'Everyone is equal here', they insist, but she find it is not true. A handful of the human mages are from noble houses, and they wear finer robes, have thicker blankets on their beds, and a few even get permission to visit with their families on special occasions. With Templar supervision, of course.

The elves have nothing, even if it is supposedly the same nothing that the common humans have. Most of them came from large families packed into tiny crumbling houses where there never seemed to be enough food to go around. The Circle is a blessing in that regard. Three meals a day, a bed you don't have to share with anyone, and a better education than any of them could possibly hope for.

Half of them don't even believe her when she told them she was Dalish. And after a while, she starts to doubt it herself. The snorts of the halla, the smell of leather and cookfires. The stories Hahren Theron taught them. Her mother's voice. Her father's eyes. All growing hazy in her mind like a passing dream.

The years roll by, and Aili grows. Trying to find her place. To balance who she is now, with who she feels she was born to be. There are not many books about her people, and the few she finds seem incongruous with the memories she has managed to keep hold of, but she holds fast to them regardless. She seeks the truth of their past, trying to align what she can remember with the skewed perspectives of human historians.

She hopes to be granted permission to leave this place someday. To continue her research into Elven histories and magic. To study the ruins that she has only ever seen in drawings.

To find her way back to her clan. Her family.

Aili is awake when they come for her in the middle of the night. Taking her to be harrowed. Forcing her to dream. To face her demons.

She does not relish the thought.

In the twelve years she has spent trapped here, she has yet to have a pleasant night's rest. Even in her good dreams, there is always something lingering at the edges of her perception. Some dark spirit. Some old wound waiting to reopen. She is never lucid enough to quite make out the shape of it, but it always leaves her with a deep sense of unease. This place has seen too much pain, she thinks, and anyone who is sensitive to it is liable to be drawn in.   

It is worse than she had imagined.

The smaller demons and spirits are all chased off, and everything she can perceive about this corner of the Fade is shrouded in inky blackness. Thousands of skittering feet all scrabbling towards her. Indiscernible shadows that somehow shape themselves into one her oldest fears. And ocean of hungry chittering spiders. Massive dark wings. Sharp grasping claws.

Aili tries to keep her head. Be brave. Make light. Take no deals. Fight back. But nothing she does seems to hinder the creature that seems to have caught her at long last.

It lifts her in its strange conglomeration of arms and claws and long, spindly hands. She draws in a sharp breath, tries not to scream. Wondering if she is about to be possessed, or eaten, or destroyed entirely.

I don't want to die!     

The thought shakes throughout her entire being, and for half a second, the dream around her disappears.

Thick, heavy manacles around her wrists, binding her magic and limiting her movements. A filthy cell far beneath the earth. A sense of impending doom.

I don't want to die!

The words had burst from her in a flash of panic, despite all her efforts to hold them in. She had wanted to be brave. There are eyes in that room. Not hers. Dark and anguished, surrounded by lines written in blood.

She had not wanted them to see her in her moment of defeat.

Run! Leave! Escape this place!  

Unaccountably, the demon lets her go. And when it does the vision disappears. The dream fades, and she is pulled back into the waking world. Surrounded by anxious Templars with their blades drawn.

They spend a long time checking her over for signs of corruption, but they cannot seem to find anything amiss. So, they let her go. Let her return to her books and her studies, and her penchant for taking naps in odd places. A fully recognized Mage of the Circle.

Aili is glad for the scant freedoms that it brings, and she certainly had not wished to be slain, or have her connection to the Fade severed, but…

The dreams are getting worse.

She is too scared to tell anyone, for fear that they will take it as a sure sign that she had not left her Harrowing completely as herself, but the vague presence she had noticed when she was younger has grown closer. A dark shape standing at the edge of her sleep. Watching her silently.

And there is more.

Faces and voices of strangers which nearly bring her to tears. Scraps of songs that she has never heard, in a language she has never learned. Brief flashes of memories that are not her own. A shinning city. Hungry golden eyes. A palace in the woods. A figure in red.

She tries to sleep less. To only doze for an hour or so at a time. Drinking strong teas, and reading late into the night.

It makes her a bit…peculiar. Twitchy and jumpy, and even more prone to dropping things. A few of the children that she tutors seem concerned for her health, but thankfully none of the Templars seem to think she is acting suspicious.  

With all the unrest brewing in Kirkwall, it is hardly surprising that they have less attention to focus on a young mage suffering from sleep deprivation.  

She can only hope it stays that way.

~

The Nightmare watches the Lady, after she leaves the harrowing dream.

She reminds of them things. Of memories, buried and broken, and long thought by them to be lost. It is like a light, shining on pale words still imprinted upon weathered, torn pages. The closer they draw, they more clear things become. But so slowly. Bit by aching bit, and they must gather up the newly illuminated text of their memories. Must secret them away, to where they will not be lost again, nor confused for any others. Whether they are their own memories, or the Lady's, or the body's, or the old, bright and burning Glory's... that is harder for them to sort out, at times.

They are painful memories, and full of fear. Yet the Nightmare cannot escape the persistent, compelling impression that they must find more. That in finding more, they will find something important. Something they have been looking for, for... ages. For long enough that they cannot recollect the start of their search.

The Lady dreams of Arlathan, and of palaces long fallen to ruin, and other places which the Nightmare can also recollect. One night she dreams of a stable. Halla mill around a verdant pen, as She lies in the soft grass beside one of them, and turns a flower over and over in her hands. Staring at petals that look like glass, and a stem that curls into a delicate bracelet. A piece of jewellery that would once have been considered modest. But She smiles as she wraps it around her wrist, and the glass petals flutter. A gift. The Nightmare thinks...

It moves. Red rather than shadow. Blood in place of darkness. She looks up at them, and for a moment, She smiles.

"You're finally back! I thought..."

At the joy and welcome in her tone, something in the Nightmare twists. Such an unaccustomed reaction to their presence. It does not know what to do, and in the moment of confusion, the sky darkens, and its form slips back into a more customary shape. Thoroughly enough so that they cannot recollect the one which they had been holding before. The Lady's face pales, and the halla rear; the Nightmare calms the illusion of them by seizing control of them. White forms and carved horns warp into spindly spider shapes, dark and hard, but easy to command. They scurry off, but the Lady screams.

The pervasive sense of danger and deception, hidden threats suddenly leaping out, overcomes the dream. The Nightmare moves, trying to find the cause of the disruption. It gathers the Lady to them, and covers her light, so that they might hide. But the sense of dread only grows, until there seems no recourse but to break free of the dream and flee. So the Nightmare does, carrying the Lady through the Fade, down into the deeper recesses where its makeshift lair has accumulated. Far enough that the tether between her mind and body begins to tremble, and only then do they recollect, and stop themselves.

If they take her too far, she will break.

Shatter, they think. Pain, and ruin, and empty husks left behind.

The Lady struggles in their grasp. Their hold on her is like heavy shackles. They have seen her shackled before. They wanted to break them, but they couldn't... but these shackles are their own doing. They loosen their grip on her, but tighten it again when she nearly strikes out and escapes it. If they leave her here, others might find her. Others will hurt her. They cannot leave her here, but they must get her free. They carry her up, back towards the Waking. Far as they might go, and they find it is further than they expected. They have not ventured so close to the Veil in centuries. Have not tested it in far longer than that.

Yet, the prison which bound them seems to hold them more tightly in the Fade than it does at the Veil itself. They carry the Lady back to her body, and find themselves filling up the shadows of her room. The small square space, with its tiny cot, and worn oak wardrobe. Half-finished tea on the bedside table, and a book lying open on Her body's chest. Her dreaming mind slips from their grip and back into her body.

The Nightmare lingers, curious. Watching as she opens her eyes, and lets out a breath of relief. As she runs her hands down her face, and then sits up, and goes still.

Staring at the shadows.

She stares at them for a long moment, fear pounding into her heart. How did it get out of the Fade? Her hand reaches, slowly, for the staff beside her bed. Eyes still fixed towards the corner of the room. The Nightmare moves into the shadow in the opposite corner, and the Lady pauses.

And then she closes the last inch of distance between her hand and the staff, all in a rush, and aims a spell directly at it. Magic flaring, wind knocking over a chair as the book slides off of her book, and a lamp beside them flares to life. The Nightmare redirects the spell with a bat of its wings, and it breaks into dozens of light motes. The flash draws notice from the hall outside. The sound of heavy boots, and the feel of suppressing spells. The Nightmare withdraws, reflexively. Pressed further down into the Fade as the door to the bedroom opens, and two armoured figures rush inside.

~

For half a moment, Aili is profoundly relieved when the Templars burst through her door and crash into her room. After all, they are supposed to be specially trained to ward off demons, aren't they? Whatever has chased after her from the Fade, they will slay it, and she may at last be able to have peaceful dreams.

The hope is a fleeting one, as they close in on her. Angry faces and drawn blades. She flinches reflexively, and she can sense the creature in the shadows shift, as though aware of her concern.

A fear demon, then. But she has never read an account of one this large or powerful. It must have been laying beneath the tower for centuries, gorging itself on the terror of those held captive within.

But why has it chosen to plague her, specifically?

"Why were you casting battle magics in your room?" one of the Templars demands, leveling his sword at her chest. An older guard, Cedrick by name, firmly Andrastian, and steadily growing more brittle and temperamental as the lyrium vials he drinks regularly slowly eat away at his mind.

The other is Hester. Young. Rigid with commands, but reasonable with her mercy.

It is she that Aili chooses to fix her gaze on when she answers, her tone just shy of pleading.

"I fell asleep," she tries to explain, "I had a bad dream, and when I woke up there was…something. The demon must have followed me out of the Fade somehow, and when I saw it was in my room, I tried to kill it. Or at least drive it back into the Fade."

"There is…something here," Hester agrees after a moment, looking around the room with a frown. The demon seems to have withdrawn deep into the shadows, pooling beneath her dresser, and tucking itself into odd corners. Aili cannot see it outright, but she can tell that it has not left her chamber.

"Only one way for a demon to follow a mage out of a dream, " Cedrick grunts.

"I didn't summon it!" Aili insists with a hint of panic.

"Even if you did not mean to, you must have accepted some offer from the creature, if it was able to leave the Fade with you," Hester says, her voice filled with a vague sense of pity, "I have heard of mages who did not even realize they had been possessed, until it was too late. The demon had taken hold of their body and used them to commit atrocities without their knowledge."

"I'm not possessed, I'm me!" AIli swears fervently, unconsciously backing towards one of the shadowed corners. "Whatever this thing is, it's been following me for years! I don't feel any different than I always do when I wake up from a bad dream. Please, you have to believe me!"

"As if you'd just admit to it," Cedrick scoffs, "Listening to all those rumors about Kirkwall, were you? Thought a little rebellion sounded good, eh? We're a smaller Circle; summon a few demons to help you out, round up a few followers, and suddenly you're free as a bird, is that it?"

"No, I promise, I haven't done-" she begins as the pair of them slowly begin closing in on her.

"Even if what you say is true," Hester interrupts, "There is a demon following you. You've attracted it somehow, and that's a serious risk. We can't just let you endanger everyone else."

"I'm not dangerous!" she shouts, raising her hands and attempting to make a barrier. If she could just call the First Enchanter…

Cedrick makes a gesture with his hand, and Aili's shield shatters around her, slamming her back against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs. She gasps, reaching for her stave, but even as she takes it in hand, Hester begins draining her of her mana. Her body grows sluggish, dizzy, as she sees Cedrick's sword arcing through the air, aimed for her throat.

A cold gust of wind rushes through the room from nowhere, there is a terrible screeching roar, and suddenly everything goes pitch black.  

~

It has been a long time since the Nightmare fought beings of flesh and blood. Bone and sinew.

But it remembers how.

The gruff one draws his blade on their Lady, and they know that he means to cut her down. That cannot be allowed to happen. The Nightmare's own fear is potent, intrinsic to its nature, and runs down to something even deeper in it. Something that is answered in magic, and a rush of power more potent than anything it has felt since being trapped here. Fueled by a memory of chains and blood and the thought that they did not save her then, but they will not watch the blade fall this time. The shadows break, and the windows of the little room do, too, and the sword is halted with a shriek by the black feathers of an extended wing.

The world feels so heavy.

But the templars are afraid, and blinded by their darkness.

They try to make the world heavier. The fight moves quickly, as they call prayers and the second one tries to strike down their Lady. The Nightmare pulls her away, drawing her into the darkness of itself, and unfurls spiked tendrils. Like jagged legs and blades combined, they burst through the templars' armour, and pin them, twitching, to the floor. Blood runs. Power in it, power to defy the heavy nature of the world, like liquid fire. The Nightmare ignites it, holding their Lady close as the templars breathe their last gasping breaths, and the door the room blows open. Red flames licking at black shadows.

It surges out into the hall. Into the tower, the Circle cage. But on this side of the Veil, it is full of gaps and openings. If only it can find them.

There is much fear, as it races through the halls in a rush of darkness. Even though it can taste it, though, the nature of it all is harder to parse. Slower. There are screams and more footsteps, blades drawn, staves lifted. The Nightmare cuts down two more templars, and uses the rivers of their blood to burn through the floors. A spell crackles against the edges of one of its wings, and it nearly cuts down the caster, too, but the Lady cries out.

"Don't!"

They stop. Escaping is what matters. They wind down through stairwells, seeking the path that will lead to an exit. Doors are locked and halls are barricaded, and there are places where the air drags and their magic does not come as quickly or strongly as they need it to. The power is still there, but the templars can push it back. The Nightmare targets them, in turn. If they would hide away its magic, then the Nightmare will take their blood, and use that instead. It takes five templars to burn through the stone of one of the outer walls.

Breaking out through the Circle, even in the heavy, woken world, is a profound relief.

The Nightmare's wings stretch outwards, and it veers away from the rooftops of the few nearby buildings. Arcing towards the calling shadows of forest and trees, with its Lady clutched tight to itself. Its shadows cannot hold the darkness well here, in the light of dawn. Their Lady draws in a gasp as they turn beneath the clouds. And then she releases a long breath, and the Nightmare glimpses her eyes wide as it carries them both into the canopy of the trees.

It does not stop, though. It is fear, and it is running, and so it goes and goes and goes. Traversing the heavy world as best it can, crossing over streams and clearings, and open fields, and yet more trees. It needs to hide, to rebuild, to find a place to nest, but somewhere far away. The hunters are coming. In one moment it sees templars, in another, it sees elves in pelts and armour, but the ends are the same. The hunters are coming to kill their Lady.

But at length, it finds it - a hollow cave, wedged between the roots of two old and weathered trees. Surrounded by overgrown ruins, and already occupied by some creature which has not returned in at least a day. Nothing fierce enough to worry the Nightmare, however. As it tries to enter, however, its Lady struggles in its clutches. The staff in her hands gleams, and the Nightmare drops her as the unexpected burst of magic burns them.

They let out a hiss, confused for a moment. Before recollecting that it is the purview of Ladies to cause them pain. And then they relent, withdrawing themselves, and watching uncertainly as their Lady rises to her feet.

They remember something of how to act, when they have displeased their Lady.

"...Apologies," the Nightmare manages, in a voice rough from disuse, and unaccustomed to speaking in so heavy a place. It echoes around them, called up by magic until they remember the shape of a mouth with which to speak, and create one to use instead. "My Lady."

~

Aili stares at the creature that has kidnapped her, heart pounding in her chest. Gripping her stave with both hands.

It almost defies description. Wings and arms and half a dozen legs and other appendages all shifting and reforming themselves at random. Dark as the deepest shadows with only the vaguest suggestion of a mouth. With sharp sharp teeth.

She's not certain what they were planning on doing once they got her into that cave, but she's willing to bet that it wouldn't be anything pleasant. It stares at her expectantly after its strange, gruff apology. Or at least, she thinks it does. It's hard to make out any eyes in the area she supposes must be its face.

Without a word, Aili turns on her heel and makes a mad dash into the woods.

She has no idea where she is, and even if she did, she wouldn't know where to seek aid. Most of the common folk would not be willing to pit themselves against a demon for a stranger, and any Templars she might meet would likely have the same reaction to her story as Hester and Cedrick. If they even bothered to wait for her to explain.

All she can do is run. Run and run, and hope that whatever interest the monster had in her is worth less to them than the exertion of pursuit.

She can hear it behind her.

A flurry of scrabbling legs racing after her through the underbrush. The sound of their large wings snapping low branches off passing trees. A strange whine of what almost seems like distress.

Aili does not look back. She does no turn her head to see how close it is to catching her. She doesn't want to know. All of her focus is put towards the effort to keep moving. Keep hold of her staff. Keep pumping her legs. Gain distance. Get away.

Her lungs burn. Her eyes sting with exhaustion and tears. Her feet ache, and even after this comparatively brief burst of exertion, she can feel blisters forming on her toes.

Her foot catches on a root, and she falls hard. Palms scraped and lip bloodied. Too tired to force her limbs to rise.

It has been so long since she slept.

The beast comes for her, and Aili presses her eyes shut. Bracing for death. For whatever end it might have in store for her.

Instead, she finds herself scooped back into their arms. She struggles weakly, but there is almost no strength left in her after her last bid for freedom. She is held firmly against the shifting blackness of their body as they turn unexpectedly, and head back the way they came. Back to the cave.

They do not attempt to enter right away, as they had before, circling the perimeter a few times. As though wanting to ensure that nothing has happened to it in their absence. They set her down near the entrance and venture a few feet inside. Inspecting.

"…Safe," they manage to burble at her a few minutes later, as though they are still not quite used to using their mouth, "My Lady. Here…it is safe. For now."

Aili looks them over again. Still deeply unsettled, but also somewhat curious in her exhaustion and mild delirium.

They have not actually…tried to kill her? At least, not yet. And, in fact, they had almost certainly saved her life back in the tower. Although, her life might not have needed saving if they had not been stalking her in her sleep.

Still.

"What…do you want with me?" she asks, not entirely certain it is a question she wants answered.  

~

The Nightmare pauses at the question.

What does it want?

The question is a trap, probably. Ladies can trap them, can ask questions that are riddles, that need right answers. But this Lady does not quite match with that image. Even though she tried to hurt them. She is huddled by the cave. There is blood on her lip, and mud on her robes, but her face makes them think of other things. Of heartbeats, that must keep beating or else suffering will follow. Of softer touches, and a different sort of fear.

They can almost remember...

"I want you safe," they say, because that much is true. Whatever else the Nightmare might still be wrestling with, they are certain that they will get no further in any of these affairs if something should happen to their Lady. Particularly if she should die, but also if she should come to any sort of harm.

The Lady sits up a little. She picks up her staff again, and despite their assurances, moves further away from the cave. The Nightmare ventures outwards too, and lets loose a hiss of protest. It has come into the Waking World, somewhat, and it never expected to do it... like this. However it has actually managed to do it. It is not entirely certain, But, it has, and it knows beyond a doubt that the Waking holds more dangers than the Dreaming does. Here, its minions are too far to call. Here, it has no nest, no spirits to devour, nor demons to enthrall. All is heavy and harsh and resistant to reshaping.

It is also vital and bright and solid in a way that they have missed for so long, they forgot how to articulate the longing. But they never lost it, either. The Lady moves further away, watching it. Her brows are furrowed, and she is frightened. Frightened of lurking dangers, of her own confusion at the situation, and of...

...Oh.

Caves.

Their Lady... does not like caves?

The Nightmare hesitates. Caves are good to fortify, but it could find a lair somewhere else. But not quickly. It must find a place to establish itself, to make certain things are safe. But if their Lady deems this one unacceptable, then there is little for it. They move the rest of the way out, letting their shape fold down into one of shadows, and wings, and a blackened, skeletal form.

Their Lady raises her staff.

The Nightmare waits, to see what she will do. What she might command. They hope she does not run again. It is dangerous, here. There are wild things about, and hunters looking for them.

After a long moment, their Lady lowers her staff a little, and leans some of her weight against it instead.

"Why would a demon want to keep me 'safe'?" she asks them.

The Nightmare hesitates, uncertain of the question. Is it a trap?

"I... do not know all demons," they finally settle on saying. Their voice is getting better, now. Their mouth more distinct, their shape more akin to the one of the Lady across from them. "But I must keep you safe. You are my Lady. I failed you, once before. I cannot fail you again."

Their Lady is still afraid, as her brow furrows, and she regards them silently again. This makes sense - the Waking World is dangerous. But the Nightmare is having troubles grasping what she is afraid of. Too many things at once, perhaps. Perhaps she is too uncertain of the situation to know what to be afraid of. They move a little closer, and fold their wings against themselves. Hoping to help offer some clarity. Immediate dangers are the greatest concern. But as the air around them darkens, their Lady raises her staff again, and they halt.

"The cave is safe," they say, again. "For now. I can defend it. But... if my Lady knows somewhere else to go, I will take her. So long as it is safe."

~

For all that she does not want to take shelter in the cave, or any other small space that might be easy to trap her in, Aili can concede that she does not have any other ideas about places to make camp.

Going back to the tower is clearly not an option, the Templars there would kill her on sight. She is surprised at her own sense of loss at the situation. She had always meant to leave, of course, but she had a few friends there. Colleagues. Students. The institution of the Circle had been oppressive and terrible, but the people… They were the closest thing she has had to a family for the larger portion of her life.

She didn't even get to say goodbye.

Aili frowns down at her muddied boots for a moment, sucking her bloodied lip into her mouth.

"If… If I left," she begins slowly, shifting her gaze to watch them, looking for potential signs of danger in their body language, "If I tried to go somewhere else…would you follow me?"

"Yes, my Lady," the demon answers easily, "I will come with you and make certain that it is safe. If I do not go, my Lady might be injured. If the place my Lady wishes to go is not safe, we should not stay there."

Aili sighs. She had suspected as much.

"This person…this 'lady' that I remind you of…did you possess her?" she wonders, tightening her grip on her stave again.

The question seems to confuse them.

"Possess… Yes. We were possessed," it mumbles after a few minutes of thought, "The Lady possessed us, and we were hers. Yours. The body was a gift from…someone. But we gave the other parts willingly."

Aili makes a face at them. What they claim doesn't make any sense; mages can't possess spirits. Can they? Perhaps, it means that the lady bound them?

"This lady bound you in a body and you had to obey her commands?" she asks. "You were a person before?"

The demon's expression falters. Its form ripples. Shuddering and becoming more amorphous for a few moments in apparent distress.

"No… Never a person," it admits with something that almost seems like shame, "I came to the body when the other fled. Shattered. We were permitted to…pretend. To survive."

Aili swallows hard. She honestly can't make heads or tails of most of their story, but it seems to strike a chord within her all the same. She feels strangely…sorry for it.

"Is there any way I could convince you that I am not your 'lady'?" Aili asks finally, sounding as tired as she feels.

The demon tilts its head at her. It looks vaguely elfish now, which is almost more unsettling than its other shape, in a way.

"But you are my Lady," it tells her flatly.

"And you expect the two of us to just spend eternity camped out in this little cave?" she wonders.

"No, that would be unwise," it replies, "A secure nest is important, but if we stay in one place too long, the hunters will come, and it will not be safe."

Hunters… Her mind turns to the blood the Templars took from her after her Harrowing. Her phylactery. No matter where she goes, there will always be the risk of someone coming for her. After all the knights that were killed during her escape, they will be out for revenge.

"I…didn't exactly get a chance to pack for this trip," Aili points out, "I don't have any spare clothes or supplies. I haven't held a bow since I was six, and hunting with magic tends to end up with things sort of…exploded. Or so I have been led to understand."

"I can hunt," the demon says with an air of confidence, "I can keep my Lady safe."

Aili lets loose a gusty sigh. Resigned to her fate. For now.

"Do you have a name?"

~

The question gives them pause, again. They have been called many things - mostly the things that they are, or have been. Sympathy. Fear. Demon. Doll. Pet. Hunter. Abomination. Nightmare.

But these things are not names. They have had a name, and they think they can remember the shape of it. The sound of it. It was theirs for a very long time, though, not in terms of years. A long time in terms of forming themselves. They had forgotten the name for a time, but it had been waiting for them in the ruins of the body that was destroyed. In the memories they scavenged, written in defiance. I will endure. They are still here; the promise has wavered, but not broken.

"...Uth...vir," they manage. "Uthvir."

Their Lady blinks at them.

"...Your name is Uthvir?" she asks. She seems surprised.

"You do not have to use it," the Nightmare assures her. "If it displeases you. I am called other things. Nightmare. Terror. Fear. Demon. Monster. My Lady once called me..."

Vhenan

They do not say it, though. They feel a lurching moment of confusion, for surely their Lady never called them that. But also, She did, unquestionably. The Nightmare recedes, as their Lady watches them. They consider the situation again instead, shying away from the matters and the memories which they are struggling to parse. They will have to acquire things, to make certain their Lady is safe and well. Shelter and the nest are good, but bodies have needs that must be met. Food, warmth, weapons, books. Things of that nature. The Nightmare will have to acquire them, and if they cannot leave Her to do so, then She will have to come along.

So, rest must be had first.

"Uthvir sounds like an elven name," their Lady notes.

On her tongue, the syllables feel familiar. The Nightmare pauses, as an odd ripple passes through it. Uthvir.

They have not heard it spoken aloud in a very, very long time.

"It is elven," they admit.

Their Lady ventures a bare step closer.

"Did an elf give it to you?" She asks them.

"No," they say. Somehow, she feels dangerous, but not in the way of physical threats, or a looming strike. She is too bright and near, they think. Near to something that feels fragile, that could break with only a whisper. Something they are only tentatively grasping - something they are afraid will shatter, before they can fully understand it.

"Where did you get your name?" She presses.

"Myself."

"Do you speak elven?"

This question is easier. The Nightmare tilts its head, and realizes for the first time that they are not speaking elven. It had not consciously noted the shifting of languages. In the Fade, meaning is more important, and linguistics was never something it had felt inclined to take note of, before. Nor really even consider much of a subject. While there had been variations, there had only really been one prevalent language in the days before the Veil. Though it knew of others, eventually, and had managed to work the concept into its understanding, it had not stopped to truly consider all of the implications.

"I speak it," they confirm, discovering how to shift their voice back to the language they had first learned. And yet, cannot ever really recall learning.

Their Lady's expression turns towards one of startled happiness.

"That was elven!" she exclaims. "What did you say?"

"I said that I can speak it," they admit, switching back to common. For some reason, this makes their Lady let out a long breath, and close her eyes for a moment longer than a blink. She does not truly let down her guard, though. Which is good. They are still in the wilderness, though nothing dangerous is nearby now.

"I must make this place safe," the Nightmare asserts. It gestures towards the cave again, using four limbs and a wing for emphasis, even as it bows deferentially. "Please, my Lady, it will be safest in there. I will not go far. I will find you food." They can detect the persistent, low-grade fear of prey animals, near enough that they are within range of the cave. That will change, once they know the area is dangerous. They will have to take their Lady with them to venture out, past a certain point. But at least, for now, there will be sustenance, and safety.

"Please," they ask again.

They must keep her safe.

~

Aili glances over at the cave warily.

“You’re going to leave me in the cave…alone?” she wonders.

“I will not go far,” the demon promises, “I can put a barrier over the front of the entrance to ensure that nothing gets in.”

“It would also ensure that I could not get out,” Aili notes dryly.

“It is safe in the cave,” it blinks at her in confusion, “Why would my Lady need to get out?”

"Oh, I don't know, all sorts of reasons," Aili shrugs, "Fresh air, exercise… Maybe needing to go to the bathroom? Just to name a few."

The demon tilts its head at her and she sighs.

"I see humor is not something they teach people in the Fade," she huffs with a brief quirk of her lips, "Look…Uthivr…I am willing to…compromise. In this instance, anyway. I will go into the cave, like you want, but I will set the barriers, so I can get out if I want to."

"If…that is what my Lady wishes," Uthvir replies, sounding doubtful at the prospect.

"And my name is Aili, not 'my lady'," she asserts firmly, keeping a good amount of space between them as she edges her way just past the lip of the cavern entrance.

"…Aili," Uthvir repeats slowly, as though turning over the shape of her name in their mouth. It sends a strange trembling shiver down her spine. She clutches her staff tighter as they take a few steps closer to her. Looming. "My Lady Aili, please stay where it is safe. I will not be gone long."

So saying, they move farther back from the cave, and shift into some sort of monstrous black bird. They hover for a few moments, inspecting the area, and perhaps waiting to see if she will make another attempt to run. When she raises her barrier across the mouth of the cave, however, they seem to decide that it is safe enough to leave her to her own devices, and wheel around towards the surrounding trees.

She waits until they are out if sight before pulling her barrier down again.

Aili doubts she could make it very far if she made another run for it. She is still physically wrung out, and lost, and the demon seems to be capable of sensing her somehow. It is a notable list of detriments to her plans of escape.

But she also has no intention of standing around in a cold damp cave, of all places.

She wanders around the outside of what is potentially going to be her home for the next little while, checking around for any good hiding places in the crumbling ruins and large roots of old trees, in case her new 'friend' decides to turn mean, or she finds something worth secreting away. Perhaps she should make a private stockpile of rations, just to be prepared for when the opportunity to get away presents itself. It would probably help if she could remember a bit more about which varieties of plants were safe to eat.

Eventually, she starts gathering up twigs and branches to make a fire. She's not likely to have anything soft to sleep on tonight, so she might as well be warm if she can't be comfortable. Besides, she's not about to eat whatever wriggling thing they bring back for her without cooking it first.

The wood is damp, and it takes her a few tries to really get the fire going, and when it does, there is enough smoke to make her sputter and choke for five whole minutes. And yet, when it is finally done, and she can sit just inside the cave and be warmed by the heat of the fire she built herself, she feels…oddly proud of herself. Even if it is a bit…haphazard.

Aili curls into herself and lets her mind wander. Turning over the events of the previous night, and the day that had followed. She does not trust this demon. This Uthvir. Not by a long shot. But she can't quite shake the feeling that they don't want to harm her.

Whether or not they might harm her unintentionally is another matter entirely.

Still. If she can be clever and cautious, there is a potential for enormous intellectual gain to be had here. A demon fluent in ancient Elven! If only she could convince it to translate some of the texts that had been found scattered among the ruins of her people. Or better still, if she could get it to teach her how to read it. She has always felt that if she returned to her people, the Dalish, she should bring some sort of tribute. A token of her intentions and her loyalties, to prove that she had never forgotten them.

Her joints are stiff, and her muscles are sore, and she has not slept for a full night in so long. And the fire is warm, making her eyelids heavy. The light in the forest is fading. The wind whistling through branches, as though the trees are whispering to one another.

Stirring up old memories.

Halla out in their pen. The sails of aravels rustling in the breeze. A hunting horn. Her mother's hands, slender and callused, fletching arrows and humming to herself. The light scent of citrus and spices and leather. A warm kiss pressed into the curve of her neck.

…Uthvir.

~

Their Lady Aili needs food.

It has been a long time since they hunted for things of flesh. How much is enough? They do not remember. Their memories can offer feasts and halls. The food from the Circle kitchens, served in a long dining hall. The food on older tables. Vast spreads of venison and goat and rabbit, Beasts of Best Parts, and other foods, too. Not just hunting, but foraging as well. The Nightmare... Uthvir remembers this. When their name was theirs, and their duty at times was to fill tables. Their Lady must have feasts.

The forests are not as replete as they could be. It takes long and at first they catch only two nugs, but then they track and find a herd of wild goats. The one with the biggest horns they take, in a snap of talons and magic. A clean break to the neck, and a single bleat before silence. The rack of horns will look impressive, for their Lady. They shift forms and use black threads of themselves to tie up their kill, and remember more of the shape that walks with fresh prey carried on its shoulders. The scent of blood follows them.

But so does the heaviness of Waking. So does the scent of pine, and the curl of the wind. Leaves, and bark, and bushes. Wild trees. They find some berries, but they are only the kind that is good for birds. The bushes lead on towards others, however. Tangled shrubbery and trees, and near a clearing, closer - but still not close - to the dangerous flat farmlands, they spy fallen fruit on the ground. Worm-eaten, but only just. Uthvir looks up and sees several fruit still on the branches. Ripe.

Aili likes apples.

They... think?

Their hands hesitate for a moment. Something is whispering to them, memories and dream-things. Their Lady is calling for them - they have taken too long, she is impatient, perhaps. They reach with clawed, grasping limbs. Up into the tree, to where the fruit is. They pull down as many as seem fit, and then begin to make haste back to the sanctuary. The wind grows stronger as they speed through it. Their shape more formless, as they adjust, and try to hurry. Sprouting wings and scurrying legs, to climb over logs and flit across narrow animal trails. They move faster, sharper and more focused when they see the flickering of an unfamiliar light.

Enemies?!

Uthvir bursts into the clearing. Flames flicker, from a small space outside the cave.

Their Lady is lying down. Lying down and not in the cave, with no barriers. No protection. They call up shadows and seal away the whole clearing as best they can, tired and uncertain. Their catch is dropped. The flames flicker, and their Lady Aili curls up more tightly in on herself. But the movement permits them to calm, at least a little. She is still alive. They can hear her heartbeat, and her breaths. Warmth that is from her as well as from the flames.

Why fire? It draws attention... but, they remember. Banquet halls. Fires to prepare food.

Their Lady Aili fell asleep waiting for them. They took too long. Uthvir hesitates for another moment, unsure of what they should do now. The memories prod - prepare the kill. Keep Aili safe.

The cave is safer.

Uthvir moves to where their Lady is sleeping, and lifts her up into their grasp, to carry her there. A soft breath escapes her, and her arms wrap around them. It... reminds them. They have held her like this before. Their shape changes again, as it did when they were carrying their catch back to the clearing. An elf-like shape, the shape of the body they once had, solidifies. It is still imperfect, they think. But they cannot pinpoint the specifics; whether they have put sharpness or softness in the wrong places, whether they have too few or too many limbs. It suffices to carry their Lady Aili to the cave, but then they encounter a new problem.

Their Lady will not let go of their neck.

Uthvir attempts to put her down several times, but her grip is too thorough to break without disturbing her.

Safest is with me.

Perhaps their Lady is wise. The cave might be the safest location, but their grasp is still a more immediate refuge from danger. Uthvir carries her back out again, and gathers up their offerings, and brings it all back to the mouth of the cave. They set about cleaning their kills, extending new limbs to the task as they keep their arms around their Lady.

And, unbeknownst to them, they begin to hum.

~

Her dreams are washed in reds.

The dark auburn of her father's hair falling into his eyes as he bends down to inspect one of the halla's hooves. Brushing the stray curls away with the back of his hand as he speaks to the creature in a low steady voice. Sweat on his brow and dirt on his clothing. His face is harder to make out, but she can tell he is smiling. Content.

The leaves in the forest turning, as though the cool autumn air has ignited them into a great roaring fire around their clan's campsite. Her mother takes her hand and guides her through the twisting secret paths that only the hunters seem to see. Aili picks up the vivid leaves from where they have fallen, and brings them back to show her mother her treasures. Her mother's smile is a thin white curve, a sliver of waxing moon, as she takes the offerings in her hands. Turns them over carefully to show her the differences in their shapes. Telling her the names of the trees they came from. What uses their barks and roots might have. Which wood might be the best for crafting.

The scarlet robes of the senior enchanters. The emblems of flaming swords blazing on Templar armor. The red ripe apples hanging in the Circle's small garden.

And then there comes a figure swathed in bright crimsons. A warning, and a signature, of sorts. Small, but strong, she thinks. A contradiction of sharp and soft. Danger and safety. Love and violence. They are…very far away from her. Facing in another direction. Beyond reaching.

If she called out to them, would they turn? Would she see their face? Would she know them?

She distantly feels arms around her. Warmth and comfort. A familiar voice humming a familiar tune. It makes her ache, but it is a strange, pleasant sort of ache.

Her voice speaks words she does not understand. Something in her chest thrums briefly. A chord plucked by careful fingertips.

Vhenan?

The figure turns, but she finds herself blinded by a flash of golden light before she can see them. The vision breaks, and her body trembles. Dropped into a sudden darkness.

She can smell something burning. Flesh sizzling at contact with heat. Between her lungs. Along her wrists. Around the base of her neck. The taste of something metallic in her mouth.

The red of blood.

She feels warm and heavy. Drugged, perhaps. The arms that had been holding her are chains now. Pinning her in place so that no precious parts will be lost in her struggling. The blood must flow into the proper channels to fuel the magic needed. To serve, as she is meant to serve.

There are golden eyes. Cold and calculating. Picking her to pieces. Cutting and slicing and burrowing deep. Making and unmaking her over and over again for all of eternity.

The gaze shifts to other eyes in other rooms. Blue as a winter night. Icy and possessive. Furious.

You love me! You are mine. You were built for me. Every part of you is a celebration of my greatness. You love me and only me! Say it!

Hands move to her throat, grasping and clawing. Tightening the leash. Her vision blurs, and the world feels as though it is melting around her. Her whole body spasms, desperate for air.

She screams with all the strength left in her.

And wakes in the multitude of Uthvir's arms.

~

She wakes in violence.

The scream ripples through them, as does the flare of her magic. The lashing of limbs. Uthvir tenses and tries to react, to perceive the danger that they have missed, or the error that they have made. The fire spits and their Lady strikes them, pushing and struggling until they realize that it is their grip that she objects to. They let her go, and let their being flare backwards and out. Shape distorting as they fall into the fear of the moment, and can only tell that something dangerous is happening. The cook fire snuffs out, as they lift a barrier around the clearing.

Their Lady is moving. Running. What is chasing? They look for hunters, for predators. Danger, danger, no, no, no... something twists inside of them, and echoes through old, broken memories. Like a different sort of light, flaring before eyes that have not seen it in centuries. It hurts, in a way that no lashing nor spells so far have. It pulls at them from the inside and drags them down, as their Lady reaches the barrier and smacks her fists against it. The magic is sharp. It lashes back out.

For a moment, then, everything goes still as Aili is repelled through the air. As she hits the ground in a heap, with red on her hands.

Bleeding.

No.

Uthvir grasps her and pulls her, drags her into the cave, and ignores her struggles as they set a firm barrier before the entrance. Closing them both off into the darkness, and verifying the thrum of their Lady's pulse. They hold her until her struggles and her spells have stopped. Until the only sound they can hear is the ragged in and out of her breaths. The two of them, safe in the total darkness, as Uthvir's form aches from bruises and burns, and the scent of her blood grows no stronger.

When she has stopped moving, they grow another set of limbs, and begin to check her over. Feeling for damage. The skin of her hands is split, and she has bruises of her own. But only superficial. The fear in her is stronger than the pain. But they do not know what else to do for it; they have no safer place to take her, no better spells nor barriers to offer. They wrap themselves around her, and try to offer that shield, too. Yet, it only seems to make things worse. And after a time the fear breaks into sobs, and Aili's voice, shaken in the dark.

"Please, stop," she says. "Please, just let me go. I want to go home."

There is more to the words than just themselves. They ring deep, as Uthvir holds her. As they see caves and towers, the Circle and the darkness. Templars and demons. Chains, always chains, binding and constricting, holding fast against all strength. Too heavy to escape. Even when they are invisible. Cages of all kinds, and trapped, so trapped, I want to go home, Mamae, Papae, I want to go home please I'll be good I'll never wander off again I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to...

Understanding slots into place with all the fervency of their being. Fear. They know what she fears; they know why it is not working, now.

With a thought the barrier in front of the cave drops. Uthvir carries Aili out into the evening air again, as she cries, and then lowers her carefully down to the ground. If she runs, it will be dangerous. But they can follow. They will keep pace. It is the caging she fears; it is them, and that will not do. They are not chains. They did not mean to do this to her.

"I am sorry," they offer.

Aili sucks in several long breaths, and does not respond, at first.

After a moment, when they are sure she does not mean to immediately get up and run, they relight the campfire. No new dangers seem to have presented themselves, in the midst of their chaos. And the prevalence of fear in the air at least makes them strong, as they gather up their things again. The meat is not finished yet, but it is still on the spit that they managed to make. They consider Aili for a moment, and then scoop up some of the apples.

Very carefully, they extend a single limb, and set one onto the ground in front of her. It is too ripe, perhaps. But a moment more and their Lady's breaths have calmed. And then she reaches forwards, and carefully picks the offered fruit up. She does not wipe it off or bite it straight away. Her eyes stick to it, and though her unease does not suffuse the air, it feels as if it should.

"I am very tired," she says, at length. "I know you probably don't understand, but nightmares ruin my sleep. If you give me bad dreams, I won't get any rest, and I... I can't keep going without it."

Uthvir hesitates.

They do not want to refute her, but they have conjured no bad dreams for her.

On the other hand, they know how to prevent such things. They should have considered that; but it has been so long, and they had forgotten. Had not considered. The oversight is theirs - so perhaps it is still their fault, in that sense.

"No more bad dreams," they promise. They will safeguard her against them - as they should have done before.

~

Aili nearly begins crying again when they promise to let her sleep peacefully. It feels as though a millstone has been lifted from her shoulders. Potent, visceral relief. The Fade is never truly safe for mages, but at least she can be assured that nothing will be actively seeking to torment her dreams.    

"Thank you," she manages to scrape out, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Uthvir nods, and returns to their task of roasting whatever dead thing they have dragged back to the clearing. A goat or a sheep by the looks of it. And either a pair of nugs, or some very large rabbits.

Silence hangs between them for a time, as Aili observes them quietly, turning her apple over in her hands. She's covered in bruises and the scrapes across her palms still sting, but she doesn't have the energy to do much about it now. As she looks them over, she sees that Uthvir is not quite free of wounds themselves. Nothing serious, but still, it must be at least a little painful for them. And she caused it.

Aili sucks her bloodied lip back into her mouth, worrying it nervously. If they don't trust her, it will be likely be much harder to get away from them later on. She cannot really be held accountable for her reaction to a dream, especially not if they were the reason she was having it, but… The incident had seemed more like a misunderstanding than anything else. Perhaps Uthvir cannot help but cause bad dreams when they are near someone who is sleeping. It is their nature, after all.

She rolls the apple between her palms; thoughtful.

"I'm…sorry," she begins, not quite meeting their eyes, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I was just…afraid."

Uthvir tilts their head at her.

"I know," they reply, sounding a little nervous themselves, as though uncertain where this conversation might be heading, "My Lady Aili was afraid because I was careless and did not find the proper means of keeping you safe. You were right to punish me for it. I will do better in the future."

"N-no, that's not-" she stammers, shaking her head in a strong negative, "It was an accident! I wasn't trying to punish you, I just needed to get away from… From something. Someone. It…was not a happy dream."

"No more bad dreams," Uthvir reiterates. Aili nods in agreement.

"No more nightmares for me, and no more accidental singeing for you," she says, hesitantly extending a hand for them to take, "Sound like a fair deal?"

"Yes, my Lady," Uthvir agrees simply. They extend one long shadowy limb with something vaguely like a hand attached to the end. She does her best not to shudder when she takes it, but she does. She shakes it once and quickly lets them go.

She glances at the food they are cooking.

"You brought a lot back for just the two of us," she notes, trying for a more casual subject, "Do demons need to eat that much? I thought you subsisted on the energies of dreamers and weaker spirits. Although, I don't rightly know what a spirit thrives on when they aren't in the Fade anymore…"

The nightmare pauses, considering their meal.

"Is it too much?" they wonder after a moment, sounding unsure, "Do you not wish to eat, my Lady?"

"It's fine!" she assures them hastily, "I am very hungry, as it happens. I just… Well, I don't think I could manage to eat all of that on my own, that's all."

"You did not eat your apple," Uthvir points out slowly, "If that one is unsatisfactory, I brought others that might be more acceptable."

"Oh," Aili remarks eloquently, stopping to look down at the fruit in her hand, "I just forgot I had it, I guess. There's nothing wrong with this one though, really. I like apples."

"Your favorite," Uthvir hums, nodding once in agreement.

Aili blinks in surprise.

"…yes. They are."

Uthvir's form ripples slightly as they fix her with a look that she supposes is somewhat expectant, seeming oddly pleased with themselves.

She wipes off the apple on the cleanest corner her sleeve the that she can find, and takes a bite. It is a little soft, but the taste is still good. Sweet with just a hint of tartness.

She offers them a thin smile.

"Delicious."  

~

Lady Aili approves of the apples, which makes things much better.

Uthvir cooks their kills for her, as she finishes her apple, and then has another one, too. She seems dubious of the meat for a moment. Worried about the quality, which in turn makes them concerned that they may have prepared it incorrectly. They do not have seasonings, nor any sauces to serve it with. But roasting is good, they think? When Lady Aili ventures a bite, however, her worry ebbs. After a few moments she begins to eat ravenously, and then mentions thirst. Uthvir ventures far enough to find clean water, and brings it back to find their lady still devouring a haunch of goat. She glances at them uncertainly for a moment, before murmuring thanks at the drinking vessel they offer her. It is conjured. She examines it extensively before her thirst seems to override her interest in it, and then she drinks until there is no more left.

"Are you going to eat anything?" she asks them, afterwards. There is roasting grease on her face, and her voice and movements have grown more sluggish.

Uthvir considers.

They are supposed to eat with their Lady, they think. And they remember eating. But that was back when they had the body. The body has since been destroyed, and with it, the need for food. Except... they are in the Waking again, now. And there is something corporeal about them. The specifics elude them, but they can feel a change.

So... perhaps they should?

They leave the apples for Aili, because they are her favourites, and instead pick up a segment of goat. Meat and bones, juicy and burnt towards one end, where the heat had been uneven. They recollect eating, and what they witnessed from Lady Aili's own recent actions, and they make a mouth. Sharp teeth and an open maw splitting the void of their face. Lifting the bone and meat, they shove the entirety of it into the opening. It feels very heavy, and hot, and it crunches and cracks as their teeth gnash through it. Juices spill down something like a throat. Shards of bone settle in the approximate middle of their being, along with shredded meat. For a moment, they think that they have made a very bad decision. But then something in their being interacts with the food, and they feel it all begin to disintegrate.

As it does, the rest of them starts to feel just a little bit heavier, in turn.

That seems to keep in line with their memories. Somewhat.

Lady Aili's eyes are wide as she regards them, afterwards. There is a fixation in her that they can pick up on for several moments. Teeth and crunching and unease, but after a few moments it passes, and they do not follow it very well. A nebulous fear, perhaps. Those are very common, and often do not linger much beyond a single situation. They decide to do a sweep of the clearing again, just to be certain that things are safe. Lady Aili settles next to the fire, as they do.

By the time they have finished, she is asleep again.

Uthvir settles down next to her. Now, they must attend her - properly. As they should have done before. They rest a limb against her, and pull a barrier over the space around them. It is not so secure as the cave, but it will do. As Lady Aili's breaths fill up the silence, along with the steady crackling of the fire, they let some of themselves sink into her - and into the Dreaming, in turn. It is not possession. Nor is it a crossing of the Veil. It is only a pathway, through fear and a sleeping mind, and they would be easy to dislodge if she wished to be rid of them. But it is also the best way for them to call their minions on the other side of the Veil, and to ensure that her rest is undisturbed.

For their own part, it is a bit like dreaming, too.

Rooms with pelts and trophies, pieces of armour and weapons settled on racks by the walls. A wide bed and a private bath, and doors that lock and seal. Windows that can close out the world, so many safeties written in blood and rune and sigil, alarms and warnings and barriers. None will get in without permission, save one person, and if She comes then it will be warned of. Night has fallen. Moonlight is pooling on the floor, and the lamps glow softly. They sit at a desk. Papers and books around them. On the bed, Aili turns in her sleep, and lets out a sigh. She stretches her arms, and then pats the mattress next to herself.

"Vhenan?"

They move. Somehow they know she is calling for them, as they cross the room, and settle onto the bed beside her. The mattress dips. Aili turns again, and settles a hand onto them. Her eyes gleam in the moonlight.

"You're wearing armour, still," she murmurs. A glance down, and they see it is true. Hard coverings. Sharp spikes. They think that they are supposed to take it off - or at least some of it? - but they do not remember how. Aili does not seem to know, either. Her fingers fumble with latches and buckles for several minutes, trying to take off their gauntlets, and then moving to the more obvious prospect of their belt. But none of it will give way. She frowns a little, and then sighs at them.

"Not taking it off?" she asks.

"I forgot how," they admit.

"Hmm. Well, I guess we'll just have to manage," she says. And then she pulls them down to the bed. Lumping the blankets between them, and using a pillow to block off several spikes, until she can wrap her arms around them. Then she makes a sound of satisfaction. Uthvir brushes the points of their fingertips through some of her curls, and finds the arrangement pleasant. Warm. They linger in comfort until the light begins to shift, and the silver moonlight turns to a grey morning. As it does, the window grows larger. The bed beneath them becomes a grassy meadow, and the walls become a cluster of tree trunks, with long, sheltering branches.

They slip into the ground. Not horrifyingly; it just sort of happens. The grass folds around them, and they are still there. But they are no longer in Aili's arms. She looks around, puzzled for a moment. They worry over the unhappiness in her expression. There are no untoward spirits to chase off, however. And after a moment, her displeasure gives way to the dreaming, again. Her eyes land on some small flowers, growing in abundance around them. She begins to pick them, and starts weaving them together. Forming a crown, as she hums softly to herself.

By the time Lady Aili wakes, the flower crown is finished.

~

Aili wakes to the light of a new day to find that being well-fed and well-rested have worked wonders on her mood. She's a little stiff from sleeping on the ground, but the demon doesn't seem to have maimed or terrorized her at any point during the night, so it seems like a small grievance in the grand scheme of things. She can't remember the last time she saw a sunrise that wasn't through the barred windows of the tower.

Her situation is still a precarious one, to be sure, but the evidence seems to be mounting that her kidnapper has no plans for harming her. At least not immediately.

Uthvir is sitting close to her, but not so close as to be alarming, tending to their small fire with one set of limbs, while another puts the finishing touches on what seems to be some sort of floral wreath.

"Good morning," Aili greets them quietly, scooting a little closer to the fire in order to warm her hands. Her palms sting as she stretches her fingers, reminding her of her injuries from the evening before. She takes a moment to look them over before murmuring a healing spell and effectively seals the wounds shut.

While she is still looking downwards, she feels something settle lightly over her ears.

"Good morning, my Lady Aili," Uthvir returns, pulling their now empty hands away from her.

A quick brush of her fingers confirms that she has most definitely been adorned with the flower chain they had been working on earlier. It tickles a little, but there don't seem to be any thorns or bugs in it. It's strangely endearing, and she finds herself feeling more surprised than anything.

"You…made me a flower crown?" Aili wonders, adjusting it a bit so it sits a little further back on her head. "Why?"

Uthvir pauses, uncertain of what answer they should give perhaps.

"My lady dreamt of flowers, and I suppose…I thought you might want some when you awoke," they explain slowly, "I apologize if I presumed too much…"

"I'm not upset about the flowers," she assures them hastily, "Though looking in on my dreams is a bit…odd."

Uthvir blinks.

"But…my lady bade me to fend off bad dreams," they remind her hesitantly, "I cannot protect your sleep if I do not watch."

Aili sighs, she supposes that having them watch her dreams is better than having them meddle in them.

"Did you not sleep well, my Lady Aili?" they wonder.

"I did," she confesses, "Thank you for letting me rest."

"And…you are not displeased with the flowers?" they continue curiously.

"…No," Aili reassures them, smiling a little despite herself, "They're actually sort of…sweet. How do I look in my new fancy headdress?"

"My lady looks beautiful, as always," Uthvir replies easily, their form rippling slightly. In pleasure or amusement, it is difficult to say.

For her own part, Aili can't help but laugh, knowing full well that she's completely mussed and covered in mud and likely looks like she lost a fight with an especially crabby tree.  

"Well, then, you should have one, too," she decides, picking at a few scattered clover flowers and little daisies that happen to be blooming near her, "I haven't been good for much else out here."

"Lady Aili is skilled at many things," Uthvir states with a surprising amount of certainty, "It is best that I should hunt and gather. My lady should stay where it is most safe."

They begin cooking the nugs that did not get eaten the night before. She watches them silently for a while as she continues her task of braiding a multitude of tiny flowers together. Thinking over all that has happened.

"So…how long are we going to stay here?" Aili asks them.

"Until it is no longer safe to stay, my Lady," Uthvir hums in reply, picking up another one of the apples and moving it so that she can reach it easily, if she likes.

"And where will we go?" she presses, taking an absentminded bite out of the offered apple.

"Does my lady have a place she wishes to go?" Uthvir asks instead, turning slightly to look at her.

"Well…sort of," Aili hedges nervously, getting to her feet with her newly crafted flower crown in hand, "But I'm not sure how to get there."

"If it is safe, I will help my Lady Aili find where she wishes to be," Uthvir promises.

Aili reaches up on her tip toes trying to place the wreath of flowers over what she assumes must be their head. They are a little more firmly elf-shaped this morning, but it is still hard to tell. Uthvir bends slightly to accommodate her wishes, and she finally plops the garland around the vague shapes of their ears.

"I want to go back to my clan," she tells them quietly, "I want to go home."

~

Uthvir pauses, as Lady Aili explains that she wants to go home. Home is... what? It is not the Circle tower. It is a clan? They cannot fathom that concept, however. Clans are distant things. Stories and whispers, and dreams of their Lady's. Fogged over and old. Clans are old things. Home is an old thing, too, and for a moment they think of a dangerous place. A place full of hunters, and hiding, and fights. Always fights, to keep from becoming the weakest, to try to be the strongest and to serve their Lady.

"...Home?" they repeat, carefully. They know where the place is, in a sense. The palace. They know the parts of it that are in the Dreaming, and they think they could find it in the Waking World as well. Is the clan there? Are hunters there...?

It is far from here. They can tell that much.

"Yes, I want to go home," Lady Aili confirms, however, with a long sigh. She reaches up, and her fingers brush the flowers they have placed on her. Their own flowers feel heavy. But, pleasant, in a way. Like an anchoring weight. A gift, from Aili. They think they like gifts. To receive them and give them both. The flowers are a success, because that has happened in each case.

"I don't know where my clan is," their lady admits. "I was very young, when I got lost. Humans found me, and took me to the Circle. But I know I didn't travel that far. I didn't cross the sea. The wilderness is wide, but, if I could just find a campsite I could find... there are signs, sometimes. And the clans come back to the same places when it's safe to, because they have what we need. Even if no one was there, eventually, someone would come..."

Uthvir considers this.

"Does my Lady Aili's clan have Hunters?" they wonder.

They do not think they should take Lady Aili to the palace. It would not be safe.

Lady Aili blinks at them.

"Um... yes?" she says, as if she is not sure of the answer. Except that she seems to be. "Not like the Templars, though. They don't hunt mages. Or demons. They're just... like this kind of hunting." Moving her arm, she gestures towards what Uthvir has provided. "They hunt food and things for the clan. And they protect us, and sometimes find lost people. I'm sure some of them tried to find me, when I..."

Lady Aili swallows, and trails off. She stares into the fire.

Uthvir does, too, though they can see nothing particular within the flames.

"I will try to find the way," they offer. "But if they are too dangerous, then we will go."

Lady Aili looks surprised. She moves a little closer to them, and stares intently at their eyes. There are only two of them at the moment, so it is easy enough for her own pair to manage.

"You could find them?" she asks.

Uthvir inclines their head. They are a hunter. They find things, just as she described. And there are ways to find persons in the Dreaming, and in the Waking, too, though they are less versed in the latter state. With the Veil, it is much harder. But, not impossible, perhaps. They try to explain this. They are not certain that they do it correctly, as their Lady Aili seems hesitant over many things. She does not seem to know what they mean, when they speak of a palace, or the ways in which hunters and magic and old currents of belief can weave themselves together.

"There's a... palace in the Fade? Where you think you can find hunters?" she surmises, after several attempts.

Uthvir supposes that is the best explanation.

"It is a dangerous place," they say.

Lady Aili bites her lip.

"I couldn't ask you to go somewhere dangerous," she tells them. Then her brow furrows, and she taps one of her apples with the tip of her finger. "But if it's a place in the Fade, then there must be a correlating place on this side of the Veil? Right? What if we went there together?"

Uthvir shakes their head, and hisses in displeasure. Lady Aili pales, and the fire goes out.

"No," they say. "Much too dangerous."

"But-"

"No."

They cannot take her there. She will die. But if she commands them...

Lady Aili only raises her hands, however, in a gesture of placation.

"Alright, it was just a thought," she replies. "I guess we will have to find another way. If... you want to help me?"

Uthvir waits, to see if there is some trap or reprimand waiting to fall. But when Lady Aili only regards them for several minutes more, they tip themselves forward, in a bow of agreement.

"I will help, to find Lady Aili's home," they agree.

[arathoonabroad]

Chapter 3

In which Katie battles the wilderness, and then all her relatives flee the country.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

"What are these lumps in the bread?" "I think they're seeds, Biddy." "What seeds? The seeds of destruction?"

Biddy and I escaped the weeding and spent five days at Uncle Biv and Aunt Mo's beautiful house in Levin--five days marked by peace, tranquility, and delicious food. There was, however, one moment of peril, from which I was glad to escape with my life. On a pretense of "showing us the farm," Biv lured Biddy and me into the heart of the Otaki wilderness. High up a mountain we went, on a long windy road, to view his collection of trees--pine trees, to be specific; more than 85,000 of them, to be even more specific. After lulling us into a false sense of security by giving us a tour of his woolshed and dutifully plucking a few feathers for Biddy off of some rather indignant guinea fowl, Biv casually suggested that we might like to go and see a little bit of the bush. Of course, we foolishly assented; what could possibly go wrong?

When first I came to this country, I was under the impression that, as far as flora and fauna were concerned, New Zealand was like Australia with the poison removed--a harmless, defanged wilderness. I was about to be proven wrong. We were happily trundling along the windy lane, taking pictures of Not-Quite-Silver-Ferns-But-Jolly-Similar, when suddenly Biv screeched to a halt and leapt out of the car. "Do you see this?" he asked, wrapping his sweatshirt sleeve around his hand and carefully pulling a branch of something prickly over to us. Biddy and I leaned back. "This plant is called Bush Lawyer, and it's a devil," Biv explained. "The thorns stick into you and it's impossible to untangle yourself. It's an awful beast." And that was not all, for as we continued on our way Biv pointed across the road and said, "Can you guess what that is?" We gazed up at the plant, a six-foot tall bushy green thing, and could not. "That," said Biv impressively, "is a stinging nettle! People have died from falling into stinging nettles in this country!" He spoke with pride, as if scorning all lowly English stinging nettles for merely providing mild agony to the shin regions.

There was more. "Lupines," said Biv gloomily, pointing. "I'm so allergic to them they've put me in the hospital, and they're everywhere." And, when I jumped out of the car, "That's a deadly nightshade by your foot." I looked down in horror at the terrifying little plant that towered almost a full centimeter above my ankle. "They're everywhere too."

Then, with a distinctly mischievous look in his eye, Biv announced: "Oh dear. It seems I have forgotten the code to the last gate. You two stay here while I just pop over this mountain and ask the neighbor what it is."

Off he strode. Biddy and I leaped back into the safety of the car. The sounds of twittering birds and sadistically swishing plants filled the air. I rolled up the window. The sun sank a little. The air in the car got hot and stuffy, but we did not dare open the doors.

"What happens if he doesn't come back?" asked Biddy.

"I'm afraid we'll have to chop off your leg and roast it," I said sorrowfully. Biddy didn't seem to mind, as her ankle was swollen and causing her grief anyway.

After about half an hour Biv returned. Clearly, his plan to dispose of us had failed, so he had to drive us home, hopes shattered. Still, I now have a healthy respect for the New Zealand outback.

Proving that New Zealand has not changed me too much, I've approached my new- non-vegetarian lifestyle with a typically complete lack of moderation. I am outrageously carnivorous now. I can scarcely go two days on end without bacon, and have tried all manner of other charred animal flesh: cows, sheep, chicken, quail, and deer have all fallen into my mighty maw. The concept of being able to eat everything on a menu--rejecting things only because I don't like them--fills me with a new delight. I feel no guilt, I feel no squeamishness. In Wigs's field there gambols the fluffy white sheep Butter, whose former friend Einstein I eat on a regular basis without the slightest compunction. Sometimes as I look at Butter, sweetly munching on grass, I think happily, "Oh, sweet little sheep--if I wanted to, I could rip your head off its neck and feast on the gory innards that leak out." On my gloomier days all I have to do is remember that this Thanksgiving (if I'm back home) I will get to eat Real Thanksgiving Turkey, and I cheer right up.

Biddy's last week in NZ was spent back at Wigs's house. Together we stripped a little wallpaper and avoided weeding, and generally did Not Much aside from complain about how much work we were being forced to do. Jemma—my sophomore year roommate, and the only person in the world who can look sexy while wearing a combination of socks, sandals and shorts—and her boyfriend Kyle, showed up to keep us entertained (and take me out for St. Patrick's Day debauchery). In the final days, Wigs threw a few lovely tea parties so that the people who had met Biddy could come and enjoy her company one last time. At one of them, Biddy was handed a glass of one of her favorite drinks, Campari with soda. The rest of us had tried Campari early on in her trip, and found it to be possibly the most bitter and revolting stuff ever devised by human hand. I'd rather drink pigswill, frankly. Much to our surprise, Wigs's friend Glenda had not only heard of the drink but liked it. Biddy waved her glass magnanimously at Glenda and announced, "When I go home, I'll leave you a present: a half bottle… well, a quarter… well, an eighth of a bottle of Campari!"

She is a frequently maddening woman—picking away for hours at wallpaper, for example, to clear a space that could be cleared in a few minutes if she would just allow the removal solution to sit for long enough. Her cigarette butts litter the garden, and, while she did eventually stop calling Wigs "Joan," her nickname for me stuck, and we all took to calling me "That Girl." Still, as Wigs, Brian and I clung to the chain-link fence and watched her little form climb up into the aeroplane and away, tears streamed down my cheeks without the slightest regard for avoiding cliché. My constant companion of the last month is gone, and the gods only know when I'll see her again.

After Biddy's departure, the rest of us dispersed. Brian took off on a business trip. Wigs packed for Kenya. I myself am currently hitching a ride to Wellington with Kyle and Jemma, sitting in the backseat of their wonderfully derelict and now somewhat overloaded Mazda. I'm not sure what I'm going to do in Wellington, and I still haven't told cousin Cleo that I'm coming; I have no place to sleep lined up, no idea of how long I'm staying in town, and no idea what I'm going to do with myself during the day.

I guess the traveling part of my trip has finally begun.

[chaoscrystals]

Every note in my phone 19

Maybe I can speed up the present. All I can think about is how I'm going to dominate the art world. I guess that's kind of fucked up? I feel dizzy and like my blood sugar is low. My body must look so disgusting I'm always burping. I must be disgusting that's why Ariel never hits me up All I can think about is how I want an art empire that is accessible to people of all races and social classes And how I want this sandwich I'm about to go eat. I'm so much fatter than I was when I was 18 that's why Ariel never hits me up anymore!!! :(__(_((((( It's really not worth beating myself up over. Pretty sure I got a yeast infection from fucking him anyway. * Why does my back hurt so much why does everything hurt why is life pain. when have I gotten to the point where I can hold all my pain and all my ecstasy at the same time, for one moment and then the moment ends and I'm back on the train again trying to make time go faster. If I was decaying I would look like black and pus and torn flesh, strips of flesh covering what once was my body. She killed me and left me in the woods to die. Put me in the back of her trunk. Headlights were right blue. Righteous and it was..she thought it was good.  I wasn't either dissatisfied, but isn't dying to hurt and be sad? I could spit black tar right here and people would probably just turn away in disgust, I could vomit up maggots, yeah girl its the same as it is for you too. I don't want you anymore he always wanted me. I'm taking you with me. Now we are dead. It came to me in a flash I had a divine vision. Of music. And being alone. * The boy means everything to me I got him in the corner of my sleeve, oh the bend of my elbow i lean on the table looking over at you I see the empty glass it magnifies you I'm ready I'm ready we're starting again, you're starting to break my heart again * Male exclusivity needs to die. Some men really can't be around women if they aren't fucking someone it seems. Ugh. Get away from me. Wake the fuck up. Sorry that everyone made us think that our bodies alone are sexual and need to be covered. I do so many non sexual things with my body. Americans can tend to being lethargic. I'm so angry * Im all caught in vines . sleeping time leaks the day its dripping in green and surrounding me. Phonetically speaking I think your words have more meaning than you realize Pick it up again inspired by my friends and I'm feeling feeling so good. Pack up your bags and take a vacation take yourself to rockaway * There's nothing special about me I bet you could compare me to any other girl in the world and id seem just the same, got a pretty face and her head isn't too bad either. And if you asked me today id say I don't think nothing special about me neither but id tell you what I know, that I'm the girl who would love you the most. * The praise on the water sought after colorful lights and pure tones Praise phoning in for a second chance in glasses cracked in the pavement red warring the light and wearing it as a disguise, praise be had, our Lord has grown old * Y stomach is too full its so full but I'm hungry and I don't have the energy to digest. I never needed to eat that much * So excited to be your own boss until the app doesn't give you work!! I'm gonna stop acting like I'm not doing things for a reaction or to make people think something of me. I am. Including playing music I am almost to the point where I dont have near anxiety attacks from eating around people. Proud of myself Taking kindness at surface level only is probably not going to cause any progress. Take all of me, baby. Even if I'm mean from time to time. I'm not okay with people's boundaries being broken in a monogamous relationship. But I don't really believe in monogamous relationships. Maybe I'm just cynical but it seems like there are too many rules. Or maybe it's all a ploy to lure guys in because they'll think I'm easygoing but I'm not I want to tell everyone every single one of my thoughts that sounds like a fun game * Jonathan is on my mind I've always had a craving for a good hearted musician and someone who will counter my unbalance, prince charming rides in on a horse, who brought the horse into the street who's mans is that? Are they getting with the plan do they understand or do you only like me because i have connections to new dimensions * I'm in love with nothing This haunting feeling Like I know what comes next I'm in love with nothing There's a hole in my heart when its growing apart it gets darker and smaller and I'm falling in love with you again * It isn't fair he will never hear me. He will never see me or understand me, when the mere sight of him sends me spinning away from anything easy to feel, I'm feeling so dreary one second and the next I got jets on my feet, flying over the moon cause I'm so in love with you * I just enjoy Jonathan is my whole heart!! One day he will know * Songs to write out Gracias a la vida Stormy weather Good morning heartache Lover man where can you be April in Paris * I want to tell people how hard my life is! * My song for you This is my song for you I like everything you do When I see you its like a cool breeze graced me with unending presently waiting pleasant and unchanging you seem stable to me, and I even like you when you're rocky. I like the lyrics I like the melody, you're like music, lets make a baby And live together In the city and very far. We can have two houses and even a car This is my song for you I like everything you do When I realized it was you Wrap it in red and a bow, kiss my head, after your show I know I can be a hard one to break, I've heard all these stories of heart break, what do I choose, what to listen, use or lose. But I know when I'm with you my dreams start coming true * Deep desires Understand the universe. Have someone accompany me in my sadness and despair. I want to come back together I want to feel enlightened I want everyone to feel goddamned enlightened I'm definitely willing to open up portals make everyone realize we are collectively manifesting our reality I want everyone in new York city to know my name nova luz, the body inhabited by us. She needs a companion. Lets get her a partner or two. * How do i really feel about the boys that I think I love? My Spanish tongue isn't too sharp....I wish...shit man, you just have to try harder to get it right. Laser mind. Not tonight. Michael is the name of an angel and no matter how hard I try or how much I'm thinking about Jonathan I still wonder about Michael and we spent more time together than Jonathan and I ever have. Fuck me. What are either of them up to? Why do neither of them talk to me. Haven't seen either one in weeks. I think I feel like I'm attached or in love. No matter how hard I try to forget...not trying hard enough you stupid fucking cunt! You're so fucking weak nova!. I wish someone knew how much I fucking hate myself sometimes I don't get why I just internalize this and nobody can ever know and its always a dead end fall off a cliff and snap your spine on the rocks before you drown and are pummeled by the waterfall FUCK. I think about them every day I wish I had a boyfriend, but malificence red lipped and hooded with festering infections on her skin, she's standing in the way, she's guarding the little red dog in my heart, the little puppy with forgetful parents, crying and underfed in an alley way alone, you only care about the way it looks. The loving puppy. Loving little dog I love you so much I love you no matter what even if you took a knife to my throat severed my veins and rendered my body a corpse I would still love you. Shit man that's fucking intense. That's a part of me that needs some help. The unconditionally loving part.....have I been deceived? I feel as though she has been deceived, and people always want to exploit her loving nature. This is the world I live in today. What if I wake up tomorrow on another planet? Is my boyfriend going to be there? If it was a planet with fruit orchards brightly colored things little houses and healthy atmosphere I would be down. Since I'm making it up, my boyfriend is there too. He loves me and we only need each other. I love him so much it fills me with fullness and vibrancy. He loves me so much. We spend most of our time together enjoying the planet, and sometimes we cook a big feast together for our friends and they come over and we all play music and drink wine * I guess now is an appropriate time to work on my issues with jealousy right? Actually...maybe ill wait What if it was a giant poetic metaphor? Green goop spilling from my heart and getting stuck in my pelvis..melting out of my pelvis out onto the floor. My physical my non physical. Non psychic but spiritual. Elephants from India are a shymbol for wealthy. And poor. Bread. Winning. Happy family. Sad family. Bread. Okay Maybe now I can work on my massive jealousy issues. Okay I'm going to start by listing scenarios that make me jealous Any female speaks to a boy that I like (level 10 code red situation) Someone's life looks shinier than mine Julia's in middle eastern vogue My friends have things that I want Other people have things that I want Other peoples bands are playing at cooler venues I am literally not a musician my name is Harriet and I never leave my apartment. Yo these sensory hallucinations are too much sometimes. That was a side note. I think my biggest issue is that when I am into someone in a romantic way, I get really upset when I see them talking to like, anyone of the opposite sex. Or of the same sex with Ursula. Or when someone is skinnier than me. Sometimes I get jealous cause of that which is not allowed because I am not allowed to have an eating disorder. Why is Julia getting so much attention while simultaneously being underweight and anorexic??? Noooo oh my god is she okay? Is everyone else okay?? Why is that allowed are you people fucking retarded? I can't do these things without having a million other thoughts. But I'm breaking the surface which is something. This is a deep fear for me I don't intend to leave unchecked. * I want somebody to love. I think writing all this sad lonely poetry can't be helping kts hard not to hate yourself sometimes. I wish someone was reading this. I really want a boyfriend so badly but I'm resisting it because in want it to be Jonathan so I'm waiting for him and ignoring everyone else.that's scary I don't know where he's at. He never talks to me. I want to smash glass bottles over his head for being so detached Fuck you!!! He never talks to him I mean me but I think about him pretty much every day.this hurts Why am I being like this? Lately everything I do is to get his attention. I want to cry. I hardly get any attention from him this is ripping me up inside.I just keep these fantasies in my head and I fall in love with them but it's an illusion I'm in love with an illusion. This hurts my chest. All I want is his attention and he isn't giving me any!!! I should turn around and walk the other way but I know I wont because I'm still in my fantasies that we are the same and that he gets weird crazy visions as well and that I was a part of his. I think I'm going to be wrong. My heart.. * I'm hitting the resin in my pipe again. And writing semi cohesive notes about my feelings. Am I using boys as a distraction from my problems? Why do I always want someone to hear the most insecure parts of me....I always always share my deep insecurities, like, first before we even get to know each other. What a weird kind of flirting style that's so weirded out by myself. Like, why? Do I not realize that most people are too in denial to accept insecurities in someone else? Especially in a package as cute as a nova. I have some pretty great ideas in my head..heart..butt..whatever...all of me......... Dot dot dot * Feeling A poem by nova luz palaquibay brener Written in September of 2017 I can feel everything. Mannequin pussy is famous they were in new York Times and rolling stone and a bunch of other big name publications. In happy for them. Not like when Julia's thing got famous. Even though I didn't spend a ton of time with any of these people, they changed my life. I still feel a little intimidated by that world, by the professional world and its cutthroat attitude. I don't really like it or want to participate. I just wanna have a nice apartment with a nice boy and wake up at 7 am every day. I still want to play rock music Its fun Mannequin pussy has that song where Marissa goes "I'm feeling it all I gotta get home I gotta get up" I'm feeling it all I'm feeling it all I just want to share a room with a nice boy and Rowan can come too And we can have small shows where we support each other for the things we love about each other and we still love each other when the other one is being an asshole. I don't like thinking of myself in a negative way. It feels bad. I'm very childish. I'm insecure that the things I do aren't big enough. That's stupid. I'm mad at my mom for always acting like everything was a huge deal. Like, nothing was ever just chill and normal everything was something. I'm childish inside * September 7 2017 Dear j boxer, There are actually several thousand things I would like to be saying to you, but I don't want to overwhelm you and lose you. Oh my god. You make me so nervous. Did you realize?at flowers for all occasions. I have never been more stressed out at a show in my life. I was hyper focused on what you might be thinking of me. I want to pour out all the imbalance I feel and you can watch it run down into the drains Yes I still think about that. And don't think that the only side of me is erratic and unbalanced and bad, everyone has so many sides. I know you think the way i play is interesting. I know I can play well. I feel like I am everything when I think about you. I think about you every day. Would you still love me when I am nervous and insecure? Love me like this or you'll never love me at all, you can only leave me if you don't love me like this, my all. My heart. Sometimes I get chest pains What do you think about me? My dream partner is someone I can put together shows with. but not ordinary shows. I don't know. But it would be something. I can envision my dream partner: active, healthy, compassionate, loving, open, creative, enjoys sex, kisses my neck. Is it fair to tell you this? Am I asking too many questions? Is it fair that I want to tell you all this but we haven't exchanged a single word in weeks? I can't explain it, its a feeling in my body, it feels so electrifying I don't ever want to stop. I'm sorry I have to test you so much. I can't help it. I think I'm like that with everyone. I wonder what you are doing now? If I said I wasn't feeling good would you sit with me in the park and put your arm on my shoulders? Even when my eyes are puffy and dry? * I don't know there's a vacuum in my heart and silver worms that live inside the vacuum, ever present resilient love the lasting energy in my blood, that they feed off of. Freed some space for their babies I know it couldn't be any other way, but sometimes I resent my mother for leading me to believe this. Because my religion is based in pain, my suffering will cleanse my sins and if you don't know then you must be unclean, I got to tell you how I see it. Everyone is looking at me Cause there's maggots in my heart, I can feel them squirming around, I can feel the top shell of muscle straining to get ahead of them to get on top of them, maggots squirming around in my heart, eating my muscles. My mind is unfocused. All I can see is misery. But its okay. The lord wants me to be this way. With a red-skinned entity hanging onto my shoulders and telling me "no, don't go there, you dog". Maggots in my heart. Maggots eating my heart * September 8 2017 Dear Jonathan Hi, how are you? Its been a couple of weeks since we last met. I am pretty much still the same. Hopefully I'm going to get a job teaching kids! Maybe one day you will fall in love with me. What have you been thinking of since I last saw you?do you want to tell me? Do you think about me? Do you want to hold hands? Can I kiss you in the dark on the street? Can I kiss you in front of people? I'm trying really hard not to take things too fast. Part of me really believes you and I are the same person. I really like how you make me feel..I always think about what it would be like to fuck you again. I really want to. I think I will. But there's one thing I'm wondering. Like what kind of relationship do you want? Do you like the idea of having me around or is this like "ill see you when I see you" No it can't just be fine I have insane feelings about you I need to know. I can be fine with what you want..I just want to know I'm not gonna hurt myself falling for you when I don't need to. If I'm just living on the promise of what I think you and I could be, I need to know if I'm right, right? Oh shit this doesn't sound good I'm spiraling into a panic. Oh god. Just tell me if you want to be with me!! Sorry I kind of get these intense insecurities. Then I like to wallow in them. Love me? Hah. To not end this letter on a sad desperate note, I will say the following: I like how you look I think you are very handsome, I like how you sing and play even when you lose your focus you sound amazing to me, I want to kiss you all over be naked with you and have my chest against yours, and feel your arms. I hope you don't mind me saying I love you and that I have a lot of love for you in my heart because I am insatiably attracted to you, and I also think you are kind but distant, and I think you are very loving and radical in your ideology, but you aren't annoying and liberal and show-offy about it. I like how much you know about music and music history, I think you are really smart. I want to kiss you all over. I feel so passionate when I think about you. It feels like you live in my heart and that's why I love you. I really really want to tell you. I don't know what could happen I just need to fuck you. I want you so badly, body and soul and mind. * August 9 Honey I want to marry you I love your sweet and bitter tastes Even on your sour days You make me believe That all my desires can be mine And I know my heart is true When I'm near you Yes I may have immense pools of jealousy, but honey, its nothing to me, when you bring me back home In a sentimental way, I say, oooooohhh you're too good for me The way we play together Like in our youth I feel like our life is a union, oh know honey I want to be true to only you We spend our days rushing around But I dream of a night where, without a sound I can slip into bed next to you, and you will hold me close, you're then the only other person I need to know, you're my everything Oh my honey I love you, you know I do, I would spend my days working for you, because I do love all the things you do And at night when the moods right, ill look into your eyes and say my sweetie, you know I love you.