#i need to sharpen the yellow paint around his eyes. the border is a bit jagged rn

[catboymachinegun]

tomochao, my precious omochao (his wind-up works)

[flowerwrites06]

the tale of agape I — jjk

World Info: There are eight types of Love originated from Ancient Greece. In the Realm of Love, these types have been turned into seven Gods and one Goddess. — Agape (universal): OC (Name: Belle) | Pragma (everlasting): Jungkook | Storge (familial): Yoongi | Mania (obsession): Seokjin | Philia (platonic): Namjoon | Eros (sexual passion): Taehyung | Philautia (self-love): Hoseok | Ludus (playful): Jimin

Plot: Agape is a well-loved Goddess in the Realm of Love. Anyone who wins her approval will become the most powerful entity in the land, standing side by side as a co-symbol of eternal Love. Unfortunately with knowledge of this power, Gods and Nymphs are prone to obsession and cunning. So Agapes’ de facto brother, Storge organises a tournament in her honour. Only the winner will become Agapes’ partner. 

Pairing(s): God!Jungkook x Goddess!OC (Name: Belle) ft. God!Seokjin 

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2.6k 

Genre: Gods & Goddesses | Fantasy | Romance 

Tags & Warnings: betrayal, nothing intense in this chapter but there will eventual smut and violence so 

Authors Note: i miss doing a jungkook series lmao so here you go, there were a lot of people during requests asking for a god/goddess au so I’m going on that with a new plot based on the eight types of love. I’m also extremely sleepy and ready to pass out, please excuse any mistakes. And lastly of course, enjoy and let me know what you think! Is this something you’d want me to continue or nah? 

Morning began with soft sunlight painting the Love Realm, making the Cherry Palace sandstone glow like a topaz gem. Yoongi, the God of Familial Love stood at the terrace with the God of Platonic Love, Namjoon. Their soft silk robes flowed in the cool breeze as they watched the chariots of red, gold and blue riding into the courtyard; each vehicle pulled by majestic stallions.

“Are you sure about this?” Namjoon asked, eyes gently squinted to adjust to the bright day. His flowing blonde hair looked almost white from the reflection of the sun.

Yoongi shook his head, heart shaped lips pursed. “I don’t like it as much as you do but this is the only way we can filter out the ones on our own accord.”

“Is Belle okay with this?”

“She likes tournaments. Chose the method herself.”

“Jousting?”

Yoongi hummed in agreement, unable to hide the smile spreading across his lips.

Namjoon chuckled. “Sometimes I think she just likes the knocking of heads.”

“Agape has a cheek to her.” Yoongi leaned forward on the balcony railing. All the heads padded out of their chariots, escorted by servants into the palace. Only one chariot hadn’t arrived yet.

“Seokjin is coming too?” Namjoons’ voice grew deep with slight contempt.

“I have to invite him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You know how he gets, Yoongi.” Namjoon shifted to face him completely. “What if he gets out of control in this tournament?”

“I gave him my warning last time.” Yoongi raised a hand to calm him. “He knows what’ll happen.”

“You can’t kill him.”

“Oh I’ll keep him alive.”

Namjoon shook his head, laughing. “How do you make even that sound threatening?”

Yoongi grinned. “I made her my sister for a reason. No one hurts her on my account.”

“Understood.”

-

Refreshing wind brushed through the transparent crème curtains into Belles’ room as her lady-in-waiting fit her into a warm pink georgette dress for the first tournament. The tone matched her pink irises, making them look more otherworldly than ever.

Angel let out a satisfied sigh after fixing the train. “Lord Yoongi knows how to pick dresses.” She stood up straight and fixed the gold patchwork bordering the shoulder of the dress.

“He always chooses pink.” Belle observed herself in the silver rimmed mirror, tilting her head. Her curls fell over half her face.

“Well, you can’t wear red just yet.”

“Such a strange rule.”

“Apparently when Agape wears red, it’s only for the most auspicious occasions.” Angels’ voice turned airy as her face lit up with astonishment. Her passion for the Gods of Love was admirable and endearing without the added obsession of climbing the ladder. She respected the concept of love in its purest form. Belle needed more of that around her. “So it’s special that you wear it in specific times.”

“Will I wear it for my wedding?” A small thrill tingled through her belly mentioning her own wedding. Belle remembered all her dreams about being the splash of red amongst pink roses and falling peach blossoms in the Cherry Palace center garden.

Angel stared up at her, eyes glossed and face flushed with excitement. “It could be the most beautiful deep red dress that has a train all down the Realm.” She gestured out through the curtains.

“That’d be a bit hard to move around in.” Belle giggled as she shrugged off the pink dress until she was down to her white underdress. “But I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Watch your left, Eros!” Laughter ensued from outside her room.

“You watch your footwork, Pragma!”

Hearing the Gods’ names being used as colloquial nicknames was a strange sound to Angel but it made Belle grin. She rushed forward through the transparent curtains to the sandstone balcony which looked over one of the smaller gardens. The ones with apple trees and the fountain.

“My lady, wait!” Angel whispered harshly.

The sleeve of Belles’ underdress slid off her shoulder but she barely thought to fix it. Angel quickly draped a silk robe over her body to keep her decent.

The two young Gods of Love, Pragma and Eros dueled each other like they were performing in a playful dance. Yoongi called Pragma by Jungkook and Eros by Taehyung. Both of them a true symbol of their role in the Realm.

Taehyung had beautiful deep tan skin, glowing like a bronze pearl and his sharpened eyes constantly brimmed with bliss over the things around him. He wore a loose silk shirt of yellow and white, half-opened to expose his soft chest while his dark brown curls fluffed and flowed like a gentle garden.

Jungkook was of milk tea skin, sweat on his neck and cheeks glistened, matting his raven hair to his forehead. His body was lithe and muscular adorned in a red and black shirt. The smile on his face had the perfect mix of mischief and pure joy. His feet moved like the genteel steps of a blossom dancer but his sword swings were the strength of a rock sentinel. Chuckles flowed from his lips at the sequence of movements, truly enjoying the activity instead of being full of anger and determination to win something.

Belle wanted to continue admiring him but a sense of her own mischief seeped through. The fountain centered this garden which the Gods did an amazing job to avoid in their flexible parries and attacks. When she noticed Jungkook nearing the fountain ready to avoid, she took a deep breath. “Having fun, my lords?!”

As expected, Jungkook lost his balance and toppled over to the fountain. His beautiful shirt splashed with water and his dampened hair from sweat completely soaked from the fountain flow. From up on the balcony, it looked like a Nymph was pouring water constantly on Jungkooks’ head.

Belle couldn’t help but laugh and Angel tried her best not to follow along.

Jungkook winced at his drenched self; almost a hint of anger on his face before he threw his head back and scoffed out a laugh.

Taehyung looked over to follow the sound and his expression softened when he recognized Belles’ face. “Agape,” he whispered with such a baritone voice that it even shocked Jungkook.

He tracked his gaze up to the sandstone balcony, decorated with pink roses and all-spice flowers. Jungkook raked his fingers through his hair, slicking it back so he could see her. Agape. The Goddess of Eternal Love. Beautiful brown curls and glowing skin against the warm sunlit sky. He couldn’t see it clearly from here but the hints of her pink irises twinkled. A smile tugged at his lips. “You got me, my lady.”

Belle smirked, leaning forward as her cheeks heated. “Be sure not to catch a cold, my lord. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the match.”

Jungkooks’ smile turned to a bright grin. “I’ll be as healthy as a God,” he mused before biting his bottom lip.

-

The day had come for Seokjins’ arrival. Mania: the God of Obsessive Love. This time Yoongi opted to see him personally in the council room. Kiku, the Earth Nymph Queen and his wife stood by his side despite her wish not to see this God again. In the last banquet, Seokjin had less than pleasant things to say to her and Yoongi was on the verge of announcing war. Thankfully Namjoon broke apart the fight, telling them to separate until they calm down.

Black robe train slithered across the white polished stone floor. When Yoongi remembered Seokjin, he saw a plump skinned charmer who saw the world as a trail of possibilities. Today he stood in front of a thinning man. “I thank you for welcoming me back after my horrible behaviour in the last banquet.” Seokjin spoke in his truest charm but it was changed. There was a darkness under his eyes now and his previously plump skin became sunken with age.

Yoongi attempted a smile. “It’s forgotten.”

Beetle black eyes flickered to Kiku with the same deathly sleep-deprived expression. “And Lady Earth, I offer my humblest apologies.”

Kiku nodded in response without a word. Yoongi knew it was her way to tolerating this visit without giving her true opinion.

“I’m happy to be part of this excitement.” Seokjin intertwined his long fingers together like a spiders legs uncurling.

“Both Eros and Pragma will be participating.”

“How wonderful!”

“Jimin will also be giving his famous stories as entertainment with Goddess Gaias’ illusions. I know you enjoy them.”

“My favorites are of ours.” Seokjin always had his way to maintaining the memory of their history. The two oldest Gods of Love. Family and Obsession building the Realm of Love from scratch. There was a twisted beauty about that fact.

“The servants will help you to your temporary chamber in the Palace.” Yoongi nodded to the three servants awaiting his order. “Make yourself at home.”

Seokjin bowed and turned his heel, quietly expecting the servants to scurry after him.

Yoongi glanced over at Kiku. Her entire body exuded a sense of concern and a hint of anger, green vines were twirling around her fingers to relieve her stress. He held onto her hand, her skin as soft as a cloud. A silent comfort to reassure her that it’ll all be well.

-

Thousands of people in the Realm of Love crowded on the wooden pavilions, waving their flags of rainbow colours representing their favourite jousters. Excitement thrummed in the air with that hint of curiosity. Who would the Goddess Agape stand next to at the end of the festival? Some of the members of the crowd were already deep into debate as to which fighter would be the most appropriate.

At the center and best view of the arena, three velvet lined seats were placed. Yoongi sat in the middle with Kiku on his left and Belle on his right. A step lower than the seats were the three non-performing gods, Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok, the God of Self-Love.

Once the crowd was organized and ready, Yoongi stood up. He didn’t need to move an inch before everyone delved into an attentive silence. “Welcome to our esteemed competition, good people. The rules are simple. You are to clash with your partners in a fair joust and the winner will provide a favor of their colour to the Goddess.” He gestured to Belle. “The one with the most favors will win the match.” Yoongi waved his hand. “Let the games begin.”

A wave of applause and cheer welcomed the first jousting match between Taehyung and an Earth Nymph. Their gold and silver armor glinted against the summer light. Another trail of pin-drop silence as the jousters had their lances ready. Belle kept her eyes on Eros as most of the crowd did. No one expected him to be much of a sportsman but his blooming friendship with Jungkook seemed to have influenced his new hobbies.

With a clap, the stallions galloped towards each other. In a pounding rise of suspense, they grew closer. Closer. Closer. Taehyung smashed the lance against the Earth Nymphs’ chest earning a wild applause.

He reached the other side and one of the servants gave him a white favor for his victory. Taehyung rode out to the platform where Belle sat. Keeping his half-lidded gaze, he kissed the favor and had it levitate towards the Goddess. “For you, my lady.”

Belle smiled and gently accepted the favor. She gave a short bow to acknowledge his gift.

Another series of matches continued on but what Belle truly waited for arrived around five matches later. She may have counted in her head until she saw the red flag matched with green.

Jungkook rode in his glinting obsidian armor and black stallion that had the most beautiful silver mane. He was a picture of magic. Lances at the ready, the crowd stills with anticipation. The Earth Nymph rides first and Jungkook follows suit a few seconds later. There were some murmurs that the God lost his focus in the midst of the match. They soon found out it was another reason altogether.

The sheer brute force of Jungkooks’ lance nearly cracked the Earth Nymphs’ armor and had them falling off their horse. Due to the leather straps, the Nymphs’ struggling body was still being dragged by the stallion while servants tried to get them to safety.

Belle stared at the fallen Nymph in worry, feeling a bit guilty for the sheer excitement brimming through her body at Jungkooks’ explosive victory. He brought a red favor. This time Belle stood up from her chair as the beautiful stallion closed in. Moving down the step platform with Namjoons’ help, she took a moment to caress the stallions’ head.

“For you, my lady.” Jungkook handed her the red favor.

Belle accepted it, feeling the warmth of his palm and the heat exuding from it. “My lord,” she muttered before turning on her heel. Perhaps it was too blatant of an action for her favoritism but she didn’t care.

Yoongi noticed the flushed pleasure on Belles’ face. He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his lips and instinctively holding Kikus’ hand. A part of him remembered how the early thrills of a blossoming relationship felt like. The more Belle smiled, the more he felt grateful for this tournament.

Jungkook stayed still on the spot just watching Belle move back up to her platform. His body and soul grew too comfortable in her aura that it made him dizzy. When the Goddess sat down and faced him, he shook himself back to reality. Giving a quick bow, he rode back for the rest of the tournament.

***

Night fell into a deep blue blanket of sky and the remnants of thrill from the tournament celebrated with ale, dancing and pleasure. Jungkook had last seen Taehyung in a bedroom full of the most beautiful Nymphs and the smell of incense. With the look on his face, one could only imagine what was going on in there. He, however, was called to Seokjins’ chamber.

He knocked on the door four times and announced himself before Seokjin invited him in with a chirpy tone.

“Welcome, Jungkook!” Seokjin was about the only person other than Yoongi who could call him that. “I hope you had fun in the tournament.” He gestured for him to sit at the dining table.

“Sword fighting is more my favourite—” Jungkook relaxed on the chair, his tired muscles aching when it was finally resting. “—but I liked the favors idea.” He smiled.

“I’m sure you did.” Seokjin picked up an apple from the glass bowl and wiped it on his robe. “Keep going like this and our deal will go smoothly.”

His smile faded, fingers lightly tapping on the arm of his chair. “Do you think it’s fair? Sneaking up on the Goddess like this?”

“Don’t start getting a conscience now, my lord.” Seokjin chuckled. “When you were begging for your friends’ life, you said you’d kill the Goddess.”

Jungkook tasted something bitter on his tongue at the thought.

“Too bad that friend didn’t have your beautiful dedication to friendship.” He scrunched his nose. “Wind Nymphs, they’re a bit filmsy, aren’t they?”

Jungkook pressed his lips together, averting his gaze.

Seokjin let out a deep sigh, raising his palms. “Apologies.” The kindness of his gaze ended as soon as it started when he narrowed his gaze. The shadows cast under his eyes made him look more like a Demon than a God. “But we’re still on this deal, aren’t we?”

It wasn’t a request open for Jungkook to refuse. If he backed out of his deal then the price would be dire. Seokjin was an ancient God of Love like Yoongi. Entities like him could take a God or Nymphs’ powers, rotting their core soul into a Demon. An animalistic creature with no memory of their past self.

Jungkook was trapped the moment he thought of a deal with Seokjin. All he could do was nod and accept the betrayal he was going to perform.

next chap >>>

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

Help Wanted, A Prequel

(Mun here! I’ve been a bit busy writing drabbles and finally finished one up. It’s the backstory of how Magda came under the employment of House Dimitrescu.

One thing I’ve noticed is that pre-castle Magda is a bit more rough around the edges than seamstress Magda. I hope you all enjoy it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shuttle bus rolling to a stop was what woke Magdalena from her slumber. Normally, she didn’t fall asleep on such rides but the night train from Bucharest to Bistrița hadn’t exactly been restful. But, to its credit, the bus had been mostly empty.

Mostly.

As what seemed to always be the rule with nearly empty buses, an older woman just had to sit next to her. It didn’t matter that there were plenty of other empty seats she could have chosen from. No, she decided to sit right next to Magdalena… and then proceed to talk almost incessantly about to her family, to the point where the younger woman had to fake falling asleep.

Except that in faking it, she actually eventually succumbed to her tiredness.

Looking out the window, Magda rubbed her eyes and blinked, more than a bit confused at the sight of trees closer than they should have been if they were at a rest stop. Which they were not.

The bus was parked in the middle of an unpaved mountain road, the motor turned off, and the driver standing over her. Also noticeable was the fact that, aside from herself and said looming driver, there were no other passengers on the bus.

“Did we break down?” Magda asked cautiously, sitting up.

“There was a rock slide on the main road, closing it down,” he replied, a little too casually. “This is the detour. The other passengers decided to wait at the last rest stop for a bus back, but you had no complaints, so I continued.”

“I had no complaints? I was asleep! And now we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Why the hell hadn’t anyone woken her up? Even the woman who tried to talk her ear off. Magda just loved and appreciated the everlasting kindness of strangers.

“Exactly. And since you’re my only passenger, we should talk. If you want to keep going, you’ll need to pay more.”

“Keep going?! We’re on a dirt road!” she yelled. “Where the hell are we even going?!”

“That is a good point,” he answered, scratching his chin. “We’re on the side of some mountain. You’ll need to pay me to get back to the main road. And civilization.” Magda blinked, dumbfounded. Was he really trying to extort her for more money?

Looking out the window, she stalled for time in order to think of a solution that didn’t involve punching the driver in the face. She didn’t have money; certainly not enough he would consider worth his time and effort. If he knew that, it was possible he’d want a different form of compensation, and she wasn’t about to give that up for him. As Magda mulled over her options, something caught her eye through the trees. It was the turrets of a rather imposing castle. She then saw the turning blades of a large windmill a bit further off, as well as smoke curling from what looked like modern chimneys nestled in the shadow of the castle.

Smoke meant civilization, people, and a potential alternate exit from this hellhole of a scenario.

“I’ll take my chances walking,” she informed the driver while standing up with her bag and doing her best to shoulder past him hard in one swift motion. She almost made it to the door too before being roughly grabbed and pulled back.

“There are wolves and other things in these woods that will happily eat you right up, little girl,” the driver growled, his breath a bit too warm and close to Magda’s neck for comfort.

“Better there than here,” she countered, shifting her weight into him while delivering an elbow to his ribs and the heel of her palm sharply to the side of his nose. It might not have exceedingly effective, but it was enough to escape his grip, as well as the bus. Once outside, Magda did her best to put distance between herself and the road, scrambling through the woods and undergrowth. For all she knew, the driver could have been armed and more than a little pissed off.

After running for a bit, she jumped down an embankment and paused, catching her breath while listening. There were no sounds of pursuit, which she was grateful for, and after a few tense minutes, she heard a motor fire up and the bus drive away.

Now she was well and truly stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, there was absolutely a sudden reaction of ‘what the fuck did you just do, Magdalena?’ but that thought was shushed as worry about the other alternative was brought up as a brief counter-argument. It was the lesser of two evils. Besides, there was the nearby town. Perhaps they had vehicles to rent or someone would be nice enough to drive her to the nearest train station. Hell, if the castle was any indication, maybe it was a local tourist destination with a proper hotel where she could get cleaned up and spend the night.

At least that was what Magda had intended and hoped for.

It was safe to say that she hadn’t dressed for a hike through the woods, but rather a walk through the metropolitan area of a well populated city. Thankfully, she had the decency to wear sensible boots. It was also safe to say that, when it came to mountains, distances were deceiving. Yes, it wasn’t that far to the town, as the crow flew, but for Magda, there were some unexpected ups and downs. Eventually she came upon what looked to be an old farm trail, which saved her ankles from being rolled too much. Either way, by the time she reached the town, she was more than a bit tired.

Not that it could even be considered a town.

It was more like a village, and a poor one at that. Or perhaps one that still lived in a era where not much had changed since the Soviets had marched through. If you were from a more cultured or modern city, it was sometimes still a shock, and a sobering one at that, to see that there were still areas where the horse and cart were still just as prevalent as more modern modes of transportation, and they cut hay with scythes that they had just sharpened by hand that morning. Being away at school and traveling the various cities of Western Europe had spoiled Magda.

The roads were all dirt and gravel or rather, due to a recent rain, gravel and mud. This was a gray mud that was somehow both slippery and sticky, grabbing hold of Magda’s boots at any chance it got. The houses, though in decent shape, were old and worn. Fresh coats of blue, yellow, white, and red paint gave life to wood that was otherwise weathered with that unmistakable brown-grey color brought on by time. The fences, some metal, but most wood, were kept in good shape, as they were what contained the multitudes of chickens she saw, along with a few pigs, goats, and horses.

What Magda didn’t see much of were people. Yes, the village was inhabited, but as soon as she approached any of the residents, they all hurried inside their dwellings, shut the door, and ignored any attempts she made at communication.

“This is ridiculous! We are in Romania, right? You do speak Romanian? The damn bus driver couldn’t have crossed a border!” Magda yelled to no one. Even if he had been able to do so, the surrounding countries recognized the language she spoke. Clearly these people just hated outsiders. Mumbling a few choice words about hospitality, she continued into the center of town. If she could make it to the castle, maybe she could find out where the hell she was and learn exactly how she could get out of here.

The village square was as disappointing as the rest of the village. Aside from the roads converging, the only way she knew it was the village center was because of the statue. It was a crouching woman, armed with a sword and shield, clearly ready to do battle with… something unseen. The plaque read ‘Maiden of War’ which made Magda smile a little. When she was little, her grandparents had spoken about the village they were from having a statue of a warrior maiden. If this was the same village, it would be one hell of a coincidence. Though if the rest of their stories were to be believed, then the castle was home to a terrible monster. Actually, all the aristocrats were supposed to be monsters. As she grew older, Magda chocked that up to being a bit of resentment towards the ruling class, political upheaval, and whatever else would make overthrowing the elite easier in the minds of the populace.

Besides, even if they were monsters, the people in the castle had to be more helpful than the villagers.

The gate that separated the village from the castle grounds was large and impressive, with a carved relief depicting the warrior maid fighting a horned demon. The laugh that escaped her was brief, but maybe a bit harsh. This almost looked like something an American would put outside a castle in an effort to claim it belong to Vlad Tepes. All that was missing were the impaled bodies. Maybe this had been a failed tourist attempt, trying to ride the coattails of the many Dracula movies made over the years. Either way, the road to the castle looked well traveled and she could see faint lights in the windows, so someone must be living there.

As she made her way up the road, Magda re-evaluated the owner’s intentions yet again when she saw the grapevines. She knew absolutely nothing about vineyards and winery, but if one had an old castle with extensive cellars that were kept at a stable temperature, and the soil was good enough, why not start producing wine? It still didn’t explain why the locals treated her as such. Perhaps they were naturally wary of outsiders or just pissed off people in general. Not that it really mattered. She’d be out of their hair soon enough.

At a distance, the castle looked old, gothic, and imposing, but up close, Magda knocked a few hundred years off its age, moving it away from the mountain fortresses that waged war and stood against sieges in the Middle Ages to something more along the lines of the proverbial fairytale castles built in the 1700’s. Turrets, balconies, and large windows abounded. Once you looked past the dark exterior stone coloring, it was actually quite beautiful, and she spent a few minutes admiring the facade before making her way to the front door.

Though the small lion-headed door knockers looked purely ornamental, Magda still used them to announce her presence. After a second try and a few minutes without an answer, she made sure her boots were free of that awful mud before testing the doorknob. The door opened easily and silently, revealing a gorgeously ornate entry hall, centered on an alcove holding a painting of three young women.

“Three daughters… Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela,” she read quietly off the title plaque. White walls, with gilded details and carved woodwork; it all said this was either a home or a museum. Part of Magda hoped it was the latter, so she wouldn’t feel like she was intruding, but again, this didn’t fully explain the state of the village below… unless the person who owned this castle was some overly moneyed individual that looked down on anyone who couldn’t date their family history back eighteen generations and therefore didn’t care about commoners.

To the right of the entrance hall was a room containing an antique elevator. It was something that didn’t look to be in the best of shape, but then again neither was the room itself. Magda had a feeling it was left over from when the castle was built, probably used to move materials to the upper levels. The hallway on the opposite side of the entrance hall looked much more promising. At least for the time being.

The luxury of the castle continued on with inlayed wood floors, lace and brocade curtains, antique furniture, and art pieces scattered all about. Magda quietly made her way down the hallway, listening for any indication of people. The stillness that surrounded her was almost palpable. Which was probably why the normally soft sound of a door opening seemed as loud as a gunshot. Through the doorway at the bottom of the the stairs came a tall woman dressed all in black, with a hood pulled up in order to put her face and red hair in shadow.

“I am very sorry to intrude and disturb you, ma’am,” Magda apologized. “I was just looking for the owner of this castle or someone I could see about possibly getting a ride into a nearby city?” The woman just smiled and giggled a little as she started up the stairs.

“Awwww, you’re lost and looking for someone?” she crooned. “Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m someone.” That was when Magda noticed the sickle in the redhead’s hand and the bloodstains on both her face and dress. Then there was also the matter of her height. At first Magda thought it was just due to an odd angle, but as the other woman climbed the stairs, Magda realized she had to be well over six feet tall, possibly nearing seven. Alarm bells began ringing in her head.

“Oh! Oh, no… no, you see, I am very sorry. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I am soooo very sorry for interrupting you. You’re clearly busy, so I’ll let you be,” she explained while quickly backpedaling the way she came, doing her best not to run, despite every instinct saying to do just that. What kind of place had she stumbled upon?

Magda’s steady retreat stopped when she backed into something unexpected. Risking a look behind her, she saw another equally tall woman, dressed almost identically to the redhead, only this one was a brunette, and the look in her eyes was more of a predatory nature. As if she were choosing the right cut of beef off a cow.

Her exit blocked by the brunette, Magda did a stupid thing and bolted for the nearby double doors. She touched the handles just as they burst open, revealing a third individual. Turning to run, arms encircled Magda, pulling her back and holding her tight.

“Never have we had prey come to us so eagerly,” the third woman, a blonde, said with a loud laugh and manic grin. She then leaned in close and inhaled deeply, causing Magda to flinch and close her eyes, going still in the woman’s arms. “I do so enjoy hot blood tinged with fear… Promise you’ll scream for me when I cut you open?” she whispered excitedly into her ear.

“And here I thought you never played with your food,” the brunette quipped drily. Magda could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes.

“Just because you have what seems to be a perishingly limited imagination, Cassandra, that doesn’t mean that I have to share the same fate.” These two argued like siblings, while the redhead simply smiled and traced her fingers over and around the sickle she held, all the while watching Magda.

“You’ve never shared anything in your life. Why start now?” Cassandra countered.

“You are absolutely correct. Maybe next time you’ll be faster and finally get a bite.” As the blonde replied, the impossible happened. Part of the woman’s body dissolved… and turned into insects. She still held Magda close and tight, but her lower half had utterly disappeared into a swarming mass of flies. Then they suddenly took off together, flying through the castle. Whereas Magda had thought she might have been able to talk her way out of this situation prior to this insanity, now she was utterly filled with dread; a cold fear washing over her. What were these things? How was any of this even possible? Was this how she was going to die? All these thoughts were wiped away as she was dumped, a bit unceremoniously, on the floor of bedchamber.

“Mother… this was found wandering the halls.” The room was mostly dark, lit only by the roaring fire in the hearth. A feminine figure sat behind a desk littered with paperwork. Something was off about the woman. Maybe it was due a combination of the large hat she wore, the dancing shadows caused by the firelight, and the angle Magda was laying at, but something just didn’t look right, and she didn’t know why.

“Ma’am, I can explain. I was on a bus and the driver was trying to extort money from me, so I thought I’d have better luck with getting a ride in your town. The people there were less willing to help, so I came here. I swear I haven’t stolen anything,” she explained in a hurried fashion, hoping they could somehow reach an understanding.

“ ‘My town’? How quaint of you to say that.” The woman’s voice and small chuckle that followed were both rich and cultured, with a foreign affected accent, like she had been educated somewhere other than Romania. Had she been? Did wealthy families still send their children abroad to study? “Whether or not you have stolen anything isn’t the issue, my dear. You are still trespassing, and I do not take kindly to those that trespass on my property.” With that, the woman stood up.

And up.

Magda’s face blanched as the woman’s head drew level with the top of the nearby canopied bed. She had to have been ten feet tall.

“Futu-i!” she yelled, scrambling back and away, only to bump, once again, into the brunette woman, the smiling redhead standing beside her. Hands roughly grabbed Magda, hauling her to her feet. “Ma’am, I’m sorry!” Her voice trembled with fear. “I knocked, but there was no answer and your door was unlocked. Had I known, I wouldn’t have entered, I swear. Please don’t kill me.” That last sentence was said in a pathetic whimper which made the lady smile in a manner that was both pleased and terribly cruel-looking. As if she had heard that request time and time before.

Magda’s stomach sank as she realized she likely had.

The blood stained dresses and sickles were one indication. Her eyes wandered, finding more. There were unusual dark spots on the rug and shackles by the fire. Their impossible height and ability to change into insects. As impossible as it seemed, these women weren’t human. Did vampires really exist? Magda was so in shock and distracted by that thought that she didn’t realize what else was going on until she felt a pressure draw across her left wrist. She blinked. The blonde was holding a knife and Magda could see blood welling up on her wrist. Oddly enough, there was no pain. Just the blood flowing easily and freely.

A large, leather gloved hand cupped her wrist in a firm yet gentle manner. For as lavish as the home decor was, Magda couldn’t help but notice how less than ideal the state of the tall woman’s dress was. The buttons at her wrist were loose, and the fabric? Although it was clean, there were minute stains either from food, in terms of her sleeves and bustline, or from general dirt, if her hemline was any indication. She also saw small repairs where a seam had popped or a tear had formed. It wasn’t the worst stitching she’d seen, but it could have been better. Why was a woman this rich wearing clothing repaired many times over? Yes, she had to have everything custom made, but that surely wasn’t an obstacle, was it?

The lady’s head suddenly dipped into view and almost immediately her tongue was felt along Magda’s wrist. She hissed in pain, forgetting all her questions, and unintentionally tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail. The lady’s grasp was incredibly strong and, in that moment of resistance, they locked eyes.

She had a dread beauty about her. Pale white skin, coal-black hair, deep crimson lips made that much darker by the blood, and eerily captivating yellow eyes. Even with her life currently on the line, Magda was absolutely taken by her.

The tasting was brief, lasting no more than a few seconds. The tall lady stood there for a quiet few moments before making a small hum of approval.

“Take her to the cellar and drain her,” she said in a dismissive manner and a flick of her hand. Almost immediately, Magda found herself being dragged towards the door and to her doom. For what it was worth, she did put up a good fight. Having a brother five years her senior gave Magda the knowledge of how to defend against someone bigger and stronger than her. It probably had been a good thing that, up until this point, she had been nothing but meek and quiet. However, despite her valiant effort and a surprisingly well placed elbow to the brunette’s midsection, she found herself pinned and being dragged away once more.

They say that the strangest things can come out of a person’s mouth when they’re in danger. That they would promise anything just to live a little while longer.

Magda clearly was not an exception to that particular rule.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! Your dress! I can make it better! I can do better than whoever you have on hand with your current repairs. I went to school for this! I was on my way to Cluj-Napoca to work at the National Opera as a seamstress!” A slight lie. The National Opera had said to check back with them in six months to a year for a chance at an opening. Until then, she had secured a gig at the North Theatre in Satu Mare. “I know how to sew and I know how to draft patterns! Let me live and I swear I will make you the most beautiful wardrobe made out of the finest fabrics I can find. If money is not an obstacle, I will have you wearing the best silks, satins, brocades, and whatever else pleases you!”

At that, the woman held up a hand and all movement in the room stopped. She studied Magda; scrutinizing and looking for any hint of a lie or falsehood. After a minute that seemed to be drawn out for an eternity, she finally spoke.

“A trial run. Two weeks. You’ll be shown to your new home and given tasks. Complete them,” she ordered. There was no leniency to those words or any sign of gentleness. She then stepped closer to Magda, looking down at her and using her height to cut an even more imposing figure. “Should you fail or try to run, you’ll wish you had died today,” she purred, showing off a wicked little grin. “Bela, tend to her wrist and then escort our new seamstress to her workshop. She has work to do.”

“Yes, mother,” the blonde said, stepping forward and quickly ushering Magda out of the room. Unlike the previous escorting, this time she was gentle. A hand pressing against the small of her back was all that was needed to keep Magda moving. Did she pay attention to where they were going? No. Should she have? Yes, absolutely, but she was still trying to understand what all had just happened.

The room they entered could have been a study or den, perhaps even a catch-all room if the miniature castle in the corner was any indication. Taking a seat at the desk, Magda made the mistake of glancing at her wrist. The incision was neat and clean, but blood had made little rivulet pathways all over her hand and wrist, while a smeared streak up her forearm indicated where the woman’s tongue had been. As if in response of being observed, the wound suddenly began to ache and throb. Magda quickly looked away, not wanting to risk passing out or becoming sick.

She hated the sight of her own blood.

Bela, meanwhile, retrieved a small medical kit from a locked drawer. She then proceeded to carefully and systematically clean almost the entirety of Magda’s forearm and hand, even going as far as checking under her fingernails.

“Five minutes ago, you were fantasizing about drinking my blood,” Magda commented.

“That was five minutes ago,” she answered matter of factly before applying the iodine. It stung and Magda reacted accordingly as every normal human did, by wincing in pain. “Hold still,” Bela ordered, positioning her arm back under the desk light. The suturing of the wound once more made Magda turn away and examine the contents of the room in great detail.

“If this is enough to turn your stomach, then for your sake you had best been telling the truth to mother. She abhors liars.”

“I was telling the truth, I swear it,” the quiet reply came, the reality of her situation now sinking in. Bela made a small, noncommittal noise.

“You should also be careful with how you swear.” Advice now given, the wound was quickly covered in a piece of gauze and neatly wrapped.

“Thank you,” Magda offered. Bela gave no response, only putting the medical kit away and gesturing for Magda to accompany her out of the room. The taller blonde allowed no time for her to look around, keeping the pace at a brisk walk… for her. With her height and longer strides, that meant Magda had to almost jog in order to keep up.

The workshop was…quite the state. It was obvious that no one had been working in here for a rather long time. Magda didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Cobwebs, dust, and machinery that, if she were lucky, would actually manage to function for the next two weeks. She wanted to sigh. She wanted to scream and cry or do something that would at least alleviate the frustration of her current situation. However, Bela was probably expecting that, maybe even looking forward to it, just so she could run off to tell her mother and then start sharpening their knives for dinner.

So instead, Magda simply took a deep breath and nodded. “This… will do. Bring whatever items you need repaired and I will take care of them.” There was a drone of insects taking flight behind her and, by the time she turned to look, all Magda saw was the tail end of an insect swarm leaving the room. Once the sound had subsided, she quietly closed the door and sat against it, trying not to cry or to think about the fresh hell she was just been thrown into and what would happen if she failed during these next two weeks.