#stp stares back

[dangthatscrayz]

You have no idea how close I am to start writing cringey slay the princess x reader fanfiction and headcannons, autism is winning yall.

This how I feel rn:

That was a joke for obvious reasons

But this fandom needs the 2016 fandom treatment I want to see a ungodly amount of fan au’s and crappy fanfiction everyone reads anyways

(Thank you for coming to me TEDtalk)

(If anyone causally slips stuff into my inbox i might have to do it, I’m sorry but the amount of fanfiction on this app is so criminally low I feel like by law I have to do it)((don’t ask how I am doing rn I swear I’m very normal abt slay the princess)

[justsalpals]

Time Travel Fix-it Fics: the past archive crew is shocked and pleased by how much nicer future!Jon is to them than their current Jon

My belief: the archive crew doesn't notice future!Jon is nicer to them, because they're too busy being disconcerted by how he skitters around corners and stares with a million eyes and keeps hissing and muttering about how they need to murder past!Jon before it's too late. or at least cut out his eyes, come on everyone be reasonable.

[writingdevil]

Tongues and Teeth PT.4 (STP)

(Fair warning-Cold is one of the two voices that I'm probably going to have trouble writing,so I apologize if I butcher his character)

*

Paranoid jumped off the rock,spinning around to try and spot the newcomer,useless wings wrapped around him for protection.He did a full rotation without seeing anyone,and he stopped,brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the trees around him,until the stranger spoke up,"On your right."

He twisted his head to the right,the dimming of the sun making it hard to see anything,but when he squinted his eyes,he managed to catch a flash of movement.A blink.

That was when he realised that there was one of them here,leaning against a tree with his arms crossed,dark feathers blending perfectly into the growing darkness.

The bird tilted his head to the side as he said,"Hello there,"with frost exhaling from his mouth.There was only one voice that could be.

"Cold."

"Paranoid."

"How long have you been there?"Cold shrugged, and Paranoid asked,"Have you seen any of the others?"Cold took a second to think,then said,"I don't remember how long ago it was,but I did see Hero at some point."

Paranoid stepped forward in shock and longing, wringing his hands together,the ache in his heart growing bigger.Cold noticed,and only raised a brow at his reaction,but he couldn't help it.

He would only feel truly safe and okay once he found Hero.He couldn't explain it,but Hero just felt like safety,like nothing was beyond repair if he was there.It might have to do with the fact that Hero seemed closer to the Decider than the rest of them.

"Was he alright?Did you see where he went?"Cold shrugged,looking away."Not sure.He seemed to be in a hurry,but I decided that seeing what this new form could do was more interesting."Paranoid swallowed his scream of frustration,because this was just how Cold behaved.

He took a deep breath in."How are you enjoying your new form?"

"How are you enjoying yours?"

"It's awful,"he tucked his wings behind his back, hoping Cold didn't care enough to pay attention to it,"Now I have to actually worry about me,and the rest of you reckless idiots."

"I noticed Opportunist drop you here.You've been busy,haven't you?"He could've sworn that Cold's eyes darkened."Has he already tried one of his schemes on you?"

Paranoid clenched his fists,feeling Cold's eyes freezing him to the spot."We're just trying to gather everyone.There's me,Opportunist and Contrarian-and now you,technically."

"Oh?"Cold said,and finally pushed himself off the tree,strolling up to him in a relaxed manner,walking into the light so that Paranoid could see him better.He noticed that Cold's feathers were slightly on the thinner side,but not as bad as Paranoid's, and in the light,he noticed that the hue of his feathers actually looked a little lighter compared to everyone else so far.

He kept his arms behind his back,making Paranoid feel smaller than an ant as he said,"What makes you think I want to come with you?"Paranoid gulped, because he knew that convincing Cold to do something he had no interest in was an impossible task,especially now that they weren't simply voices fighting for control anymore.Cold could quite literally wander off to do whatever he wanted.

Paranoid chuckled,trying to come off as self-assured,but it only sounded anxious.He gestured around them."What?Is some dirt and trees enough to keep you in one place for this long?"

"Maybe."What?

Now he was really confused,because that didn't sound like Cold at all.There was no way that he was fascinated with the forest that much. Experimenting with his new body?Yes.Standing in a forest that they've seen plenty of times?No way.

Paranoid lowered his wings,trying to come up with a way to talk to Cold and get him to join them.But Cold had always been an enigma to Paranoid-their whole argument about pain was clear evidence of that.But Paranoid refused to give up-the thought of dying at the hands of her, was enough to send him snapping at anyone trying to make dumb and impulsive decisions.

But...none of that mattered anymore,did it?He could never successfully get the Decider to avoid all the horror that He went through,all the pain and trauma.Paranoid couldn't even escape from a monster without help now!

He wasn't as useful as he once was.Or had he ever been useful,considering all the agony they suffered?

"Oh,"Cold said,bringing Paranoid back to reality, "there's that look again.How odd.I don't think I've ever seen you look like that before."

Paranoid sighed,ignoring the comment."So you don't want to join us,I take it?"Cold hummed,then said,"Not right now."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why?Tell me what's more interesting than watching us fumble around and try to get used to this new situation.I'd have thought that would've been perfect entertainment for you."

Cold blinked,silent for a moment,then let a heavy sigh out,cold air disappearing into the dying light. "Preferably,I would keep going until I found something that made me feel-something more,but it appears that solid bodies have...limits."

"Oh?So you're just tired?"

"I guess you could call it that."Cold backed away, until he was leaning against the tree again."For now, I'm happy to wait,until I get too bored again.Then I'll see what this place has to offer."

Paranoid made sure to not mention the creature he just encountered.

So Cold was just tired?He was just waiting for the energy to go out and try and feel something again?That was more understandable to him,but something in the back of his head was whispering doubts.Was Cold really someone to care about limits?He didn't even care about being killed by the Princess that much!

Paranoid took a step forward,and Cold didn't react. But he took another step forward,almost closing the distance between them,and then Cold asked, "What are you doing?"in that sharp yet soft voice of his,turning his head to look away from him.

But why ask?Why not see what Paranoid would do?Why was Cold-holding back,in a way?

Paranoid sighed in frustration,and that was when he noticed Cold's breath,thanks to the frost.He would've thought that Cold would be taking long, relaxed breaths,just waiting for the time to move again.But his breaths were coming out in quick, short bursts,as if he was trying to get to heart under control.But why would-oh.

That was when he realised-Cold wasn't bored and just waiting for something interesting to happen.He was overwhelmed,a feeling Paranoid was quite familiar with.

He once thought that Cold would love all these new things he got to explore-but perhaps he was wrong, and he wasn't as numb as he'd like to be anymore.

But the realisation must have shown on Paranoid's face,because Cold furrowed his brows,and without taking his gaze away from him,slammed his elbow into the tree behind him,causing an owl to cry out and fly away,and for Paranoid to yell out.

"Fucking hell!"he exclaimed,hands coming up to clutch at the feathers near his head,jumping back a good ten feet from Cold,who's smugness Paranoid could feel.

His body shook,and he placed his hands over his pounding heart,softly muttering to himself,"Heart, lungs,liver,nerves,"over and over again until he got his body under control and he no longer felt in danger.

At least his chant,despite everything else,seemed to be normal.

When he came to,Cold was giving him a curious look,and ignored Paranoid's glare as he said,"Tell me how you do that."

Paranoid sighed,but opened his mouth to explain it, a habit from teaching Hero,until an idea popped into his head.

Opportunist got Contrarian on board by poking at his ego,to make him want to be with them.Maybe Paranoid can do the same here.

So he looked Cold in his dark,unreadable eyes and said,"No."

For a brief moment,a look of genuine surprise came over Cold's features,before falling back into his usual blank mask.

"No?"Cold repeated,intrigue in his tone now."No," Paranoid said,crossing his arms and looking away, in the hopes that Cold didn't see the anxiety in his eyes."I don't think I feel like it."Then he shrugged, feigning indifference."You probably wouldn't get it anyways."

He held that position for a few seconds,until he felt footsteps approach him,and he took a deep breath, willing his worries to go away,and he turned just as Cold walked up to him.

He unfortunately towered over Paranoid.It was eerily quiet as they stared each other down, Paranoid having to crane his neck back to even properly look at him-so close that their chest feathers were touching

They held each other's gazes,and Cold didn't seem to blink,an intensity in his stare that had Paranoid's knees wobbling,but he held firm.

This should've been the moment that Paranoid turned around and left him wanting more,like with Contrarian.The longer he stayed there though,the quicker Cold would call his bluff,or give up entirely.

But at this proximity,Paranoid could clearly see the slight tremor in the other's body,the clouded, almost unfocused look in his eyes.Cold hid it well, but Paranoid knew when someone was overstimulated,from his own experiences and with helping Hero through his own struggles.

He couldn't look away,pretend to not care.He did care,even if Cold acted like he didn't,and he wouldn't feel right leaving him all alone in these woods.The thought made his stomach turn.

Cold may act numb,but a body doesn't lie.

"You're not as untouchable as you think you are," Paranoid said,clenching his fists tight to keep him on the spot.Cold merely leaned closer,and asked in a teasing manner,"What are you going to do about it?"

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds-until Paranoid sighed.

"Sit down,"he instructed,lowering himself to the ground.Cold looked at him for a second or two,then shrugged and sat down across from him.

"Give me your hand,"he softly ordered,holding his own hand out expectedly,palm facing up.Cold didn't tear his eyes away from Paranoid,yet still gently placed his hand in his.

"Are you teaching me your chant?"

"No."Paranoid closed his fingers around Cold's hands,immediately noticing how thin and bony they were,and he felt how they shook slightly in his grip.He was also freezing,but he figured that that was normal for the other bird.

"Close your eyes,"he said,and he waited until Cold obliged,before doing the same himself.For once, Paranoid actually felt sure of what he was doing as he said,"Take a deep breath in,hold it for four seconds,then breathe out for five seconds."He did it as well,and was pleasantly surprised to hear Cold copy him.

He rubbed a thumb over Cold's knuckles and whispered,"Now do it again."They breathed in sync, letting nothing but the sounds of the forest consume them,and Paranoid,even though this was for Cold,felt his own muscles relax and his wings lower to the ground.A part of him wanted to stay in this little bubble of peace forever.

But still,at some point,Cold's hand stopped shaking,and Paranoid whispered,"Open your eyes."

What he saw,was still Cold's blank face,but there was now a lightness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.He gave the other a small smile and said,"One day,I'll show you the chant,but right now you needed something else."

Cold said nothing,and Paranoid was about to let go, but before he could,Cold suddenly yanked him forward,and Paranoid yelped as their faces were now inches away from each other,and he couldn't bring himself to look away from Cold's intense stare.

Paranoid didn't dare speak-and then he felt a gentle squeeze from Cold.

A thank you.

Paranoid was too stunned to speak,as Cold let go of his hand and leaned back,content to sit there in silence.

However,Paranoid had too many strong emotions to speak right now.He thought that he was worthless in this new form now,no longer able to perform the way he used to,no longer able to protect the way he used to.But he was wrong.

He may be in an entirely new and unpredictable situation,and dealing with things that he never had to before,but he was still him.Just because he couldn't do certain things,doesn't mean that he can't do other things that are extremely valuable to his flock.The skills he has still matter,now more than ever.

A warmth spread through him at the realisation,and a soft smile was beginning to grow on his face when-

"Look out!"

Suddenly,a dark figure burst through the foliage, and Paranoid yelled out in fright,but still scrambled to his feet,with Cold in tow-although not as frantically.

The figure ran on all fours,running in circles around the area,until it stopped and pressed its back against a tree,and then Paranoid realised that it was Hunted.

His whole body was shaking violently,claws digging into the bark of the tree as his eyes darted around, never lingering on one place for too long,with his feathers sticking out in all directions.

Paranoid looked back to where he had emerged from,to find Contrarian had pushed Oppy to the ground,presumably to avoid Hunted,and a Stubborn looming above them just brimming with energy and aggression.

Stubborn looked to be as tall as Cold was,but where Cold was skinny,Stubborn was bulky,with sharp claws just itching to fight something.He was twisting his head around madly,a feral grin on his face as he said,"Where is he?!Where is that little pipsqueak?!"

"What is going on here?"Paranoid demanded,and Stubborn's attention immediately shifted to him, but his face twisted in disappointment."I'm looking for that little rat!Have you seen him?"

Paranoid knew he was talking about Hunted,but he didn't dare look over and give away his place in the shadows,the moon high in the air at this point.

"Why?Has something happened?"

"Yeah,and it's the fact that we haven't fought yet!"

"You want to fight Hunted?"Oppy asked in confusion,being pulled to his feet by an equally confused Contrarian.

Stubborn just gave them all a hungry grin full of teeth."Yeah!Now that I've got this body all to myself,I can really challenge it,and since the Princesses are gone and I haven't seen Hero boy around,that pipsqueak is the only worthy opponent left!"

"Did he want to fight you?"Oppy asked,and Stubborn sighed sharply."No!All he cared about was finding you lot!He wouldn't fight me at all!"

Contrarian snorted."So you decided to just chase him around?Him?Hunted?"

"Well what other choice did I have?"

"Leave him alone,maybe!"Paranoid snapped,and Stubborn just glared at him."Why?What else is there to do other than to fight to see what we can take?"

"So you just want to punch things again?How unoriginal,"Cold commented with a roll of his eyes, and Stubborn let out a snarl at him."Well I'm sure as hell not gonna sit around and do nothing with this freedom,am I?"Before Paranoid could speak,he waved them all away."Whatever.I'm off to find the little runt.Don't bother me until I've fought and beaten him."With that,Stubborn stomped away.

Everyone was too shocked to speak,but then Paranoid heard a small sound coming from Hunted, and when he brought his attention back to him, dread filled his chest and made him rush over to him,as he realized Hunted was having a panic attack.

"Hunted,"he softly called,kneeling in front of him, but Hunted wouldn't respond,his eyes staring into nothing as his breathing came out in short,painful looking bursts.

There was no way he could calm him down like he had with Cold.But there was one thing he could do.

Paranoid took a deep breath in,placing one of his hands over Hunted's rapidly beating heart,and directing Hunted's hand over Paranoid's own,and with that,everything else fell to black.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."

His head tipped back,and there was only the feeling of blood rushing and a heart full of fear,but not of his own.Hunted's fear was like the whipping of wind,crashing and flinging about everywhere, twisting and turning,but with nowhere to go.

"Heart.Lungs.Liver.Nerves."His voice was firm yet calm as he spoke,willing the fear to leave Hunted,to see that he was safe,his flock was here and they were going to protect each other now.

It felt like hours had passed,but with one last whisper of his chant,and a promise that the danger had passed,Paranoid felt Hunted calm down.

He sighed in relief,letting their hands fall to their laps.It felt good-in a weird way-to do his chant again,despite the tense predicaments that it's needed for.

He slowly lowered his head to face Hunted,to find him staring at Paranoid with an animalistic intensity,but he knew he wasn't in danger.

Especially when Hunted gently cupped his face,and pressed their foreheads together.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 10 || THE DEEP HEART'S CORE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

With each repetition, he dug a thumb hard between her ribs. “You fuc#ing bastard!” she screamed. She braced her feet and yanked down on his arm as hard as she could, bringing it into biting range. She lunged at his wrist, but before she could sink her teeth in his flesh, she found herself jerked off her feet and whirled through the air. She ended hard on her knees, one arm twisted up behind her back so tightly that her shoulder joint cracked. The strain on her elbow hurt; she writhed, trying to turn into the hold, but couldn’t budge. An arm like an iron bar clamped across her shoulders, forcing her head down. And farther down. Her chin drove into her chest; she couldn’t breathe. And still he forced her head down. Her knees slid apart, her thighs forced wide by the downward pressure. “Stop!” she grunted. It hurt to force sound through her constricted windpipe. “Gd’s sk, stp!” The relentless pressure paused, but did not ease. She could feel him there behind her, an inexorable, inexplicable force. She reached back with her free hand, groping for something to claw, something to hit or bend, but there was nothing. “I could break your neck,” he said, very quietly. The weight of his arm left her shoulders, though the twisted arm still held her bent forward, hair loose and tumbled, nearly touching the floor. A hand settled on her neck. She could feel thumb and index fingers on either side, pressing lightly on her arteries. He squeezed, and black spots danced before her eyes. “I could ki ll you, so.” The hand left her neck, and touched her, deliberately, knee and shoulder, cheek and chin, emphasizing her helplessness. She jerked her head away, not letting him touch the wetness, not wanting him to feel her tears of rage. Then the hand pressed sudden and brutal on the small of her back. She made a small, choked sound and arched her back to keep her arm from breaking, thrusting out her hips backward, legs spread to keep her balance. “I could use ye as I would,” he said, and there was a coldness in his voice.

“Could you stop me, Brianna?” She felt as though she would suffocate with rage and shame. “Answer me.” The hand took her by the neck again, and squeezed.

“No!” She was free. So suddenly released, she pitched forward onto her face, barely getting one hand down in time to save herself.

She lay on the straw, panting and sobbing. There was a loud whuffle near her head—Magdalen, roused by the noise, leaning out of her stall to investigate. Slowly, painfully, she raised herself to a sitting position. He was standing over her, arms folded. “Damn you!” she gasped. She slammed a hand down in the hay. “God, I want to kill you!” He stood quite still, looking down at her. “Aye,” he said quietly. “But ye can’t, can you?” She stared up at him, not understanding. His eyes were intent on hers, not angry, not mocking. Waiting. “You can’t,” he repeated, with emphasis. And then realization came, flooding down her aching arms to her bruised fists. “Oh, God,” she said. “No. I can’t. I couldn’t. Even if I’d fought him … I couldn’t.” Quite suddenly she began to cry, the knots inside her slipping loose, the weights shifting, lifting, as a blessed relief spread through her body. It hadn’t been her fault. If she had fought with all her strength—as she had fought just now— “Couldn’t,” she said, and swallowed hard, gasping for air. “I couldn’t have stopped him. I kept thinking, if only I’d fought harder … but it wouldn’t have mattered. I couldn’t have stopped him.” A hand touched her face, big and very gentle. “You’re a fine, braw lassie,” he whispered. “But a lassie, nonetheless. Would ye fret your heart out and think yourself a coward because ye couldna fight off a lion wi’ your bare hands? It’s the same. Dinna be daft, now.” She wiped the back of her hand under her nose, and sniffed deeply. He put a hand under her elbow and helped her up, his strength no longer either threat or mockery, but unutterable comfort. Her knees stung, where she had scraped them on the ground. Her legs wobbled, but she made it to the haypile, where he let her sit down.

“You could just have told me, you know,” she said. “That it wasn’t my fault.” He smiled faintly. “I did. Ye couldna believe me, though, unless ye knew for yourself.” “No. I guess not.”

A profound but peaceful weariness had settled on her like a blanket. This time she had no urge to tear it off. She watched, feeling too limp to move, as he wetted a cloth from the trough and wiped her face, straightened her twisted skirts, and poured out a drink for her. When he handed her the freshly filled cup of cider, though, she laid a hand on his arm. Bone and muscle were solid, warm under her hand. “You could have fought back. But you didn’t.” He laid a big hand over hers, squeezed and let it go.

“No, I didna fight,” he said quietly. “I gave my word—for your mother’s life.” His eyes met hers squarely, neither ice nor sapphire now, but clear as water. “I dinna regret it.” He took her by the shoulders, and eased her down onto the piled hay. “Do ye rest a bit, a leannan.” She lay down, but reached up to touch him as he knelt by her.

“Is it true—that I won’t forget?” He paused for a moment, hand on her hair. “Aye, that’s true,” he said softly. “But it’s true, too, that it willna matter after a time.” “Won’t it?” She was too tired even to wonder what he might mean by this. She felt almost weightless; strangely remote, as though she no longer inhabited her troublesome body. “Even if I’m not strong enough to ki. ll him?” A clear cold draft from the open door cut through the warm fog of smoke, making all the animals stir. The brindled cow shifted her weight in sudden irritation and let out a low-throated mwaaah, not of distress so much as of querulous complaint. She felt her father glance at the cow before turning back to her.

“You’re a verra strong woman, a bheanachá,” he said at last, very softly. “I’m not strong. You just proved I’m not—” His hand on her shoulder stopped her. “That’s not what I mean.” He stopped, thinking, his hand smoothing her hair, over and over. “She was ten when our mother died, Jenny was,” he said at last. “It was the day after the funeral when I came into the kitchen and found her kneeling on a stool, to be tall enough to stir the bowl on the table. “She was wearing my mother’s apron,” he said softly, “folded up under the arms, and the strings wrapped twice about her waist. I could see she’d been weepin’, like I had, for her face was all stained and her eyes red. But she just went on stirring, staring down into the bowl, and she said to me, ‘Go and wash, Jamie; I’ll have supper for you and Da directly.’ ” His eyes closed altogether, and he swallowed once. Then he opened them, and looked down at her again. “Aye, I ken fine how strong women are,” he said quietly. “And you’re strong enough for what must be done, m’ annsachd—believe me.”

He stood up then, and went to the cow. It had risen to its feet and was moving restlessly in a small circle, swaying and shuffling on its tether. He caught it by the tether rope, gentled it with hands and words, made his way behind the heifer, frowning in concentration. She saw him turn his head and look, to check his dirk, then turn back, murmuring.

Not a loving butcher, no. A surgeon in his way, like her mother. From this odd plateau of remoteness, she could see how much her parents—so wildly different in temperament and manner—were alike in this one respect; that odd ability to mingle compassion with sheer ruthlessness. But they were different even in that, she thought; Claire could hold life and death together in her hands, and yet preserve herself, hold aloof; a doctor must go on living, for the sake of her patients, if not for her own sake. Jamie would be ruthless toward himself, as much as—or more than—he would be to anyone else. He had thrown off his plaid; now he unfastened his shirt, with no haste but neither with any wasted motion. He pulled the pale linen over his head and laid it neatly aside, returning to his watching post at the heifer’s tail, ready to assist. A long ripple ran down the cow’s rounded side, and the torchlight glimmered white on the tiny knot of a scar over his heart. Uncover his nakedness? He would strip himself to the bone, if he thought it necessary. And—a much less comforting thought—if he thought it necessary, he would do the same to her, without a moment’s hesitation. He had a hand at the base of the cow’s tail, speaking to it in Gaelic, soothing, encouraging. She felt as though she could almost grasp the sense of his words—but not quite. All might be well, or it might not. But whatever happened, Jamie Fraser would be there, fighting. It was a comfort.

48 AWAY IN A MANGER

[deconstructthesoup]

Some STP Human Headcanons (Voices)

-Cheated reads ex-military to me, which does fit in with me headcanoning him to be a) quite a bit older, and b) trans. In a lot of my modern AUs, he got dishonorably discharged after he was outed, and he immediately fell into the punk scene in order to properly send a big middle finger to his former bosses. He's got serious "fuck the police" energy now.

-Hunted also feels quite a bit older to me (he and Cheated are that older gay couple where one of them is crotchety and the other is very nice yet very quiet), and I like to imagine him working as a camp counselor while also volunteering at a soup kitchen on the side. If you put him in the modern day, his need for survival might start translating into a need for community, and I really enjoy that for him.

-Paranoid has OCD and anxiety, which manifests in a lot of different ways, but one of the most notable ways is that he's always dressing incredibly nicely, just so he can put on the best impression possible when he meets new people. Also, cuff links are very good fidgets.

-Hero is the unquestionable "mom friend" of the group---always checking in on everyone to make sure they're okay, always packing extra snacks for when they go on trips, always remembers everyone's birthdays. He's also the reason the group actually stays together, since while some of them are still figuring out how to get along, they're all Hero's friends.

-Broken, rather than being all mopey and depressed all the time, is actually surprisingly serene. While not really subscribing to any one religion, he does have a spiritual vibe to him, in that he believes that nothing matters, the universe doesn't notice you, and most things are out of our control... and that's okay. He feels comfort in that there's no big divine plan and that life is an unpredictable rollercoaster, and he's never felt more at peace than when he's staring up in awe at the stars. (He's a big astronomy nut.)

-Smitten is a theater kid to a T, but more importantly, they are a swords-and-sorcery fanatic. They always dress up for Ren Faires, they're always LARPing on the weekends, and they belong to at least three different D&D groups (where they play an elf paladin whose oath is his wedding vows, a fire genasi bard who was a career matchmaker until their business got sabotaged, and a gnome warlock who's on a quest to find her kidnapped wife. They're allergic to playing anything other than a charisma caster.) Basically, they're a gamer in the opposite direction.

-Even if it's set in modern day, Skeptic always dresses like a noir detective---though, no fedoras if it's not the 1940's, he knows exactly what kind of message that sends. He just loves the swish of a trenchcoat and the reliability of suspenders. And ties.

-Speaking of my best guy, Skeptic is an incredible piano player. He's been taking lessons since he and Smitten still needed different colored clothes for their parents to tell them apart, and---like me---he started off playing jazz standards. At first, he kind of thought that they were boring, and nothing like the way they sounded on all of his Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday albums, but once he learned that what made them fun was improvisation, Skeptic kept on improving his skills until he could do full-on original piano solos on the spot. Also, he learned some Tom Leher songs to annoy his parents and Smitten. Every time spring rolls around in that household, the faint sounds of "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park" sound from the music room.

-Smitten and Skeptic are the rich kids of the group, and they are teased constantly about it. Yes, they're usually the ones fronting the bill when they go out to eat or go shopping, but it doesn't take long for one of the more anti-establishment guys to call them the "nepo twins." Surprisingly, both of them are good sports about it.

-Cold smokes. He is well aware that it is an awful habit, and he is well aware that it will come back to bite him if he doesn't switch over to lollipops, but it just fits with his mall goth aesthetic. And there's nothing more Cold than doing things just for the aesthetic.

-On that note, Contrarian and Cold are absolutely the ones who dive head-first into shenanigans. Contrarian knows that they can always suggest something absolutely buckwild, and Cold will always shrug and join in just to see what happens. Hero has his hands full getting them out of trouble.

-Contrarian has a bright blue mullet that clashes horrifically with every single one of his outfits. They chose that color for their hair specifically to offend the eye, and everyone knows it and hates it.

-Opportunist's wardrobe is filled to the brim with brightly-colored floral button-ups, which definitely don't do much to counteract their used-car-salesman vibe, but they do somehow give them a lot of gender euphoria. Also, they've got double helix piercings and gauges. It unfortunately looks really good.

-Stubborn's very much a rock music guy, but his tastes are more grunge-focused---Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Green Day, very dad-rock energy. It definitely adds to his "Eliot-Spencer-if-he-was-six-foot-three-and-was-raised-in-a-city" vibe. You know that man is blasting "American Idiot" whenever he's got the aux cord.

-I debated for a while about what sport Stubborn would like, and I eventually settled on two: boxing for the beat-you-up vibes, and bouldering for the climbing-up-a-sheer-cliff-face vibes. I just love the image of Stubborn attempting to climb the rock wall without a harness and failing miserably.

-Opportunist is also a theater kid, and they usually wind up playing opposite Smitten more often than not. The two of them kind of joke about it---oh, wow, the two they/them using people in the group both love acting, isn't that hilarious---but really, they're kind of grateful for it, since they used to hate each other before they realized that they actually had something in common.

-Hero is the only member of the group (aside from Hunted, but he and Cheated are the older dads so it doesn't really count) who can actually cook, and he's really good at it. Every time someone comes over, he asks them what their favorite meal is, and he always puts a fun spin on it that turns out exceptional. His grilled cheeses are good to the point where Stubborn has declared that he will actually kill someone if it means he could eat them for the rest of his life. (Also, Hero's favorite one to cook for is Contrarian, because he always suggests the most insane combinations---and Hero will somehow, against all odds, make it work. He likes a challenge.)

And... yeah, that's all I got for now!

[sapphicslaylist]

[STP] Of Fleet Foot & Slinking Shadow

TWs: Animal Death, Hunting, Cannon-Typical Consumption, Cannon-Typical Violence. Mixed angst w/ fluff and a happy ending

Was immensely disappointed by the absolute lack of Beast fics which got into the nitty gritty of her character.

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57773797

Story here down below the cut

Quiet panted as he made it up the steps; outrunning Beast was exhausting, and had nearly cost him his leg in the process of scampering up those twisted, broken steps. But now on the floor of the cabin, he knew that he was out of her reach. Furious eyes and a swishing tail were all the indication he needed to know she was there, accompanied by the rattling of her chain. But it seemed even as she pulled on it, it was too large and heavy to break apart.

For a moment, they watched each other in silence. Beast’s growl carried up the stairs, fierce and challenging. But there was nothing she could do from there, so after a moment’s stare-off, she withdrew in sulking defeat.

Shirking his duties probably wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. But if Quiet wanted to do anything about the situation, then it would have to be done by approaching it from a different angle.

Sighing, Quiet pushed the door open, its musty odor permeating the air around them. So it seemed that this time, unlike the last, the door hadn’t been cruelly shut in on him. This was a chance for escape.

Not escape, Hunted warned. That chain will not hold her. We have nowhere to hide out here; she will catch us instantly.

We need a plan first, Hero echoed back. Look, I’m all here for doing our damnedest, but not if it just gets us cornered down there. There has to be some other way.

Quiet huffed as he stepped out onto the path, trying to ignore the angry yowls from the basement below. The hill was just the same as he had remembered, except this time, he was able to take in how sparse it was. The trees were all downhill from here, with the cabin perched at the top like a lone soldier; barely any wildlife seemed to shift and move over the barren landscape, which seemed to lack beginning or end. Just a cold, empty void in the vast expanse of nothingness.

Are we really the only ones out here?

Quiet’s plumicorns drooped upon the realization. Being able to see where they were for the first time in a moment, well, it seemed to be an absence of everything. Was there really a world to save in the end? Was there actually more to it than this barren half-wilderness?

Ground is ground, Hunted reminded. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, or what’s here along with us; we’ll adapt. 

Quiet shifted as the voices in his head bickered, seeming lost for a moment; with nowhere obvious to go, it left him with very little options.

Then the strong, acrid stench of iron from a gust of wind.

Blood.

Hunted took control before Hero could even think of objecting; to him, it seemed like that was the kind of scent you usually ran away from, but the plucky scavenger seemed to have something up his sleeve. Running on all fours, Quiet scampered a short distance from the scene, tilting his head curiously; it seemed that running from the Princess and making it out in one piece had brought something to the Construct which shouldn’t have been there; a crack in an otherwise “perfect” reality.

Where the rigid stench had come from, the body of an intact elk lay freshly slaughtered by the edge of the woods. By the look of it, the neck had been slit by someone or something, but no trail nor trace of the assailant remained.

Whatever left it here is long gone; there’s no other scent. We should claim it before something else does.

That could help, actually, Hero reasoned, cautiously. If we give her an offering, then she may be less quick to smite us.

Had Hunted the body to do so, there were some looks he would’ve given the other voice. Please explain to me why you could possibly think that’s a good idea.

Well, Hero replied, nonchalantly, she wants to eat us, right? It’s a little harder for her to do that if we spoil her appetite. Besides, it might even get us into better standing with her-

You cannot reason with what she is. She sees us as prey. There is no use in trying.

Quiet crouched by the body, debating the better course of action. Both seemed to make fair points, and yet it was challenging to deduce the greater risk compared to gain.

Hero sighed. Do you have any better ideas? I’d be just as happy not to face her head-on.

Hunted paused. If we have to bring it, be smart. Throw it to her, don’t go down. And keep our guard up; in and out.

I think we can work with that.

And so it was decided.

The full weight of the elk’s body was challenging to carry alone on Quiet’s back; weighing more than him, and much larger, however, it did seem like the gamble was worth the strain. All four wings shuffled and pricked to accommodate the weight, grunting with the effort. But at last it seemed that the cabin came into view sooner than anyone would’ve liked, dropping the gigantic prey to the ground long enough to open the door. It swung open reluctantly, as though aware of the uneasy task awaiting them down below.

The cabin was just as desolate as they’d left it, now adorned with spatters of crimson as they carried forward. The windows filtered in minimal light, the table in the corner the only furniture of note. No mirror this time; that seemed not to have followed them for this go around.

Well, better not to keep her waiting. Hero tried to mask the unease as Quiet shuffled forward, although knew that the stench of carrion would have her circling near immediately.

“Back again so soon?”

The growl in her voice betrayed an almost teasing note, her hulking form shifting in the shadows beside the stairs. Behind the mane of matted black hair, two bright gleaming eyes watched from the dark; impatiently, hungrily.

The amusement grew in her voice. “And you’re not alone.”

Quiet shuffled uneasily from the corner of the room, remembering the instructions from both guiding voices. Carefully, he lifted the elk by the head; almost immediately, Beast lunged. But fortunately, her chain didn’t even let her make it to the stairs.

A crude smile formed on her lips; all teeth and fangs. “Bring it here. Then I’ll see what I should do with you.”

The hesitation was nonexistent. From the top of the stairs, Quiet flung the body down the steps; it never even hit the ground before landing into her ravenous jaws with a roar. Bones cracked, antlers snapped off, blood spattered the hallway. It was unsettling to watch, but like a train wreck, impossible to look away. What remained after the first devastating blow she turned and dragged behind her, finishing off in the dark. This, in turn, only took a few seconds to finish off.

She scarcely left bone behind. The only remains besides a few cracked bones were two solid antlers, licking her chops with a satisfied huff.

“Smart choice,” she crooned, raising a brow. “You get to live. For now.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means we have her favor. But we need to be careful, because her posture indicates she’s going to pounce.

“So, are you going to just stand there? Or are you planning to join me?”

Neither voice had prepared for that outcome.

Is she serious? That’s obviously a trap!

Maybe, Hunted theorized. But she’s fully fed. Meat spoils fast; I don’t think she would waste the limited food she has right now. 

Right. So either we come down there and keep our guard up, or she’s going to pounce.

Hunted shifted restlessly within Quiet’s mind; all muscles seized up, a cornered prey.

Stop that. I don’t want to go down any more than you do. But if the option is with or without her teeth digging into us -

Hunted hesitated, weighing out the options. You’d better know what you’re doing, he sighed, reluctantly releasing his hold of the body. If we die again -

You can blame me. I know. But I still think if there’s a chance for diplomacy, we should take it.

Quiet approached the rickety handrail hesitantly; yet again, return would have to be careful.

Alright, guess we’re doing this, then. There’s no turning back now.

The steps themselves only took a few minutes to traverse; calmly as possible, watching for holes and splinters in the wood. The pounding in his heart was impossible to mask, especially with the addition of two frightened little voices silently worrying from within. This could well mean death, or it could mean a possible step in a better direction. After all, the flaw from before had been betrayal in place of a formed bond.

Maybe it isn’t too late for that.

It is, Hunted pleaded. We are merely here to avoid the alternative. Don’t forget what we agreed.

Trust me, my guard is well up, Hero assured. This would’ve been a lot more convincing if moments after the words were spoken, near-silent paws hadn’t padded up to them, buffeting them over with a blow seemingly too gentle to be full might. But nevertheless, it did its job. 

Quiet skid backwards, scrambling for the Blade; unfortunately, Beast was quicker. A paw inspected it almost mockingly, huge bright eyes watching from behind a mane of tangled hair as she stepped just barely into view. She merely swept it aside, before sitting down before them -

Wait, sitting?

Quiet didn’t dare move from the spot; if this was a test, then a chase would end in death. Beast merely observed for a moment, before pulling back, kicking the Blade over to Quiet with a stray talon.

“I said you get to live. And yet, you come down armed with that pathetic splinter.” Her laugh was sickly; taunting. “Fine, then - keep it. It would hardly save you from me.”

She’s right. We are small and she is massive… Anything we could do to her she can respond tenfold. This is why I didn’t want to come down here. She’s in her element, and we are cornered.

Quiet quickly picked up the blade before she could change her mind. Better to have something than nothing, after all.

“You clearly want something from me,” Beast began, “and it doesn’t seem to be just begging for your life. So, prey, tell me what that is.”

“I want to make it up to you.” Quiet responded before his mental team could even have another word about it. “I’m certain that bolting in the middle ruined your chase. At least this time you get something out of it.”

“Perhaps I was wrong to give you council here,” Beast growled. “Is ‘repentance’ the best you can do? Because you’ll have to do much better than that after what you’ve done. We both know that.”

As Beast raised a paw to aim a devastating blow, Quiet did the one thing it seemed would work: throw up his hands and beg for a moment more. Fortunately for him, the offering had saved him just enough. Her emaciated frame shone clearer in the growing starlight, from a barred skylight somewhere not too far above. But now fully fed, it seemed that curiosity had, just this once, won her over from violence. The paw stayed raised, but her gaze narrowed as though daring him to speak.

“You need to eat,” Quiet began. “You clearly haven’t been.”

“Your wretched talons could’ve fixed that much, much sooner.”

Was it better to be bold and risk it, or else try to be understanding? It seemed to be out of anyone’s hands as a sudden bolt of anger seized up in his chest.

“You’re deflecting,” Quiet challenged, “and you were back there as well. What have you been eating this whole time?”

A shuffle, and a pause. Beast moved herself past him, circling the chains. The air was quiet between hero and monster for a moment, broken only by the tense scraping of the basement below. Her head tilted upward towards the skylight, and his gaze followed.

“Sometimes birds manage to lose their way,” Beast growled. “And sometimes they find themselves dragged back down here, with me. But they would have to be fairly foolish to do so.”

“… Oh.” Quiet shuddered, folding his wings behind his back. “I see.”

Her harsh gaze fell upon him. “Very foolish.”

A growl rose in her throat, and the earth shook with each footfall. Quiet staggered back, feathers prickling uncomfortably at his sides. Talons wrapped firmly around the Pristine Blade, aiming it at her, scarcely a threat - but of course, as always, the Princess was faster; stronger. It only took a blow for her to knock him over, blade still in hand.

You can still do this. Strike now.

His eyes swam as his head met the ground, trying to get into focus; her breaths lacerated his body with the stench of decay. Two large eyes loomed over, examining his moves; the Blade twitched, but didn’t stir.

Having a stare off with an adversary this large was hardly intelligent, but it was the only thing that he had left in his mind. Wounding her would send her in a blind rage. And deep down, something told him that if she had wanted to devour him then and now, she would’ve done it already.

It’s a gamble, but you might be right. So what, then? Do we just stay still?

For a few moments their movements remained intact. Heavy paw on restless body, watching one another, daring the other to make the first move. Then just as soon as it had begun, it was over; the paw disconnected, leaving Quiet to pick himself off the ground, gasping.

“You are braver than I thought,” Beast chuckled, amusement and a tinge of confusion tinting her voice. “But whatever game you’re playing, you can’t keep this up forever. Feeding me the flesh of another will not change my wishes, Fledgeling; you are lucky that for the time being you are of more use to me out here than in there.”

Interesting , so she can be reasoned with. 

I wouldn’t count on it. She stated her intentions fairly well; a nourished predator will be much harder to defeat than a starved one. Be careful with how you proceed.

Quiet gave the inner voices a nod, returning himself to the looming Princess. What she was doing was clear enough; she had the upper hand, but she was biding her time. Even if it did come to devouring him, it didn’t mean that there weren’t things that could be done in the meantime to take her off the edge.

“Yet I still don’t understand why.”

“Why-?”

Beast took one of the antlers from her recent prey, cracking it to splinters in her jaw. Quiet gulped as she pushed the pieces towards him; rage, frustration, confusion clouding her vision.

Don’t show fear. Fear gets them excited. You’ve played a dangerous game getting this close to begin with-

-We’ve got it handled.

“Oh, that.”

Beast looked over at him, urging her adversary to indulge her with a respectable answer.

“Well, you said it yourself; prey is scarce in these woods, and even more so in the basement of the cabin. It isn’t as if many things find their way down here.”

Are you trying to get her to pounce? She’s restless. Don’t let your guard down.

We’re not.

Beast tilted her head, shifting where she stood. His intentions were hard to read, but the truth was clear enough; he had an opening to slice her, and had left no mark. Instead, it seemed that despite the odds they were almost… Benevolent. But regardless of the intentions, the outcome was still falling in her favor. So perhaps it was best to not look a gift elk in the mouth.

“And yet, you returned.” The words came out a callous hiss, rank with cruel amusement.

“Yes,” Quiet remarked. “I do.”

“Within the grasp of a known predator.”

“Correct.”

Beast’s ears twitched. Was it deliberate misleading, or pure stupidity? What game was this traitor playing, exactly? And was it worth even taking him up on it?

Remember the plan. Sooner or later, he will slip up, and then he’ll be mine.

“And so it’s come to this.” Beast sat down, pushing the other antler to her side. “You can’t run, can you?”

So she had pinpointed it after all. No use in lying; it was clear she could see through that.

“No. I can leave the cabin, but there’s only so far into the woods I can go before there’s just… Nothing. It seems clear that there’s only one way forward here-“

“You kill me, or I kill you.”

“Or both.”

Both creatures chanced their backs to one another, drinking in the uneasy tension. Feathers pricked and fur bristled, the vitality of the natural order now so begrudging, so improper. And for just a moment, pressed up against the behemoth’s back, Quiet could feel the fury and anguish in the pulse running through her veins; a creature wary of betrayal, and afraid of defeat. One would sacrifice every drop of lifeblood to keep from experiencing that horrific sensation ever again, and force the world to bend to her whims if it meant her own safety. 

Hunted was the first to notice.

She’s… Scared? But she has us cornered. A cat doesn’t fear a mouse as it goes in for the kill -

In case you haven’t noticed, she hasn’t ‘gone in for the kill.’ She’s still thinking. And right now, it seems like she’s waiting on us to react in kind than make the first move. Maybe it’ll pay to be merciful here.

She is a wild animal who could swallow us whole any moment. I don’t think that ‘acting with grace’ is the proper ploy -

But it seemed that Hunted had been overruled. 

“What if we call a stalemate?”

That’s your great idea?!

  Beast snorted. “Or, you could release me. Make this painless for everyone. Well… Mostly painless.”

“Just… Hear me out,” Quiet murmured, shaking his head. “You can’t leave, or else the world supposedly ends.”

“And you actually believe that?”

“I… Don’t know what I do or don’t believe, only what I’ve been told. There has to be a compromise here somewhere, right? If I could bring you parts of the outside world-“

“This is a prison. There is no compromise.”

Beast lashed her tail, vestigial wings fluttering impatiently on her back. “And if you won’t agree to it by choice, then I will make you.”

Leaning down to his level, Beast gave a wide yawn. The rank breath of wide, salivating jaws lined with razor sharp teeth hit Quiet sharply, shuddering as she withdrew.

“That’s… Lethal.”

“Oh, I didn’t say I would kill you.” Beast smirked, making a point of running her grooved tongue over one forepaw as she rubbed the back of her neck. “But that’s for you to decide how easily you want to cooperate.”

“Mm…hm.” Quiet brushed the feathers along his own neck, easing them down from a bristle. “So I’m taking it that’s a-“

“Three days.” Beast muttered absently, examining her claws. “That’s how long you have until I lose my patience, but make it count. I want you to prove that you have more than your own interests in mind - that you actually want to help. Anything less and I will make sure you only have enough of a pulse left to release me from my chains. And perhaps in the time you spend, you’ll see why this place is so desolate.”

“So it’s decided, then?”

“That depends on what you have to add.”

Hero noted the dangerous look in her eyes incredulously. What is she looking for? A blood pact?!

“I’m sure I will know when I come across it. But for now, only my word.”

You’re really taking charge of this, aren’t you? Hunted noted the exchange, bemused; frankly, he’d half expected Hero’s confidence a farce. But watching through Quiet’s eyes as taloned hand shook clawed paw in confirmation, it seemed that the bolder voice was indeed onto something.

“You are free to come and go so long as you return with a satisfactory haul each time,” Beast rumbled, her silken purr laden with ice. “Do not disappoint me.”

Taking a single look back, she risked turning her back on her opponent, knowing that he wouldn’t risk a move against her with the waters calm. Hunched over in the corner, her fangs found their purchase in the other antler of her gifted prey, the sound of cracking bone filling the empty space with uneasy splinters.

Neither voice has to tell Quiet that was his cue to leave - not to run, but to turn tail slowly and quietly. And when the Princess didn’t lunge or even startle amidst his passing, that was surely a good sign to be had.

Going back up the cabin steps was still quite the trek. It was still just as difficult to navigate back up as it was down, with the sodden frame and tattered wood reeking of decay. But at the very least, no encroaching monster in hot pursuit - so this, comparatively, was a godsend. But from which god, well, it was frankly unclear.

Once the cabin shifted into view, it seemed that the voices arose to their natural quarrel; with Hero seemingly confident, and Hunted less than so. Quiet’s mind shifted and settled uneasily as elation and fear encapsulated his every movement going forward towards the door, chancing one look back; from the corner of the wall, the Princess sat somewhere in the foliage. The only indication of her presence was those gleaming eyes, and a nod; he was her servant now, bound by the threat of guillotine jaws if proven disloyal.

I hope you know what you’ve gotten us into, Hunted lamented. 

What do you mean? I bought us time.

Time alone won’t save us from something that big, Hunted urged. We have to figure out what she wants, and fast.

I mean, isn’t it obvious? As long as we keep her fed and entertained -

As far as she’s concerned, we would serve as just as proper a plaything as any we could bring. We need to do far better than the bare minimum.

Right; she is a Princess, after all. So whatever we do, best to keep that in mind.

As Quiet reached the edges of the cabin, he found himself met with the tall grasses along the cabin’s outskirts. The second time out was simultaneously freeing and shackling; it would determine if there even was a third time. Thankfully, this time he had some ability to look around opposed to grabbing the nearest corpse; there was the hill, of course, and by the edges of the forest a small pond. The air had no scent of heavy blood like last time; that likely meant this time would be much harder to locate the pickings.

We don’t need it to be found for us, Hunted reminded. We have the Steel Claw. We can catch game on our own.

The sound of nearby waterfowl seemed to catch Quiet’s attention. At this point, the gravity was seamless; following Hunted’s instructions and following downwind, it would just take a quick blow to the neck and -

There was barely a sound from each creature as each blow struck; quick and painless.

By the end of the hunt, several adequate-sized ducks and geese had added themselves to the pile by the riverside. Using the river to wash off the Pristine Blade, and wading in the shallows to remove the remnants of his kill (lest the Construct decide now was the time to add in another disadvantage), Quiet took his pickings and returned back to the cabin post haste.

Already, he could tell from below that Beast was restless. Guaranteed she could sense the smell of fresh meat, and no matter what he’d done to shake it from himself, that Quiet had taken it into his own to catch it this time.

“You didn’t come back empty-handed,” she quipped, sniffing the air. “Good.”

“That’s not the end of it,” Quiet replied, brushing the back of his neck. “Just a few more things, if you’ll let me.”

Beast dipped her head, although her patience was running dry. A part of her wanted to demand this second offering, and yet the second told her that whatever he had in store was likely better.

Either that, or he was lying and she’d have no qualms in eating him.

Several minutes passed until the cabin door opened again - with Beast left waiting at the bottom of the stairs like a puppy waiting for its owner to arrive. Frankly, it was beyond a little humiliating, so whatever he was up to better be worth it.

“Bring it here,” she challenged, no venom in her voice. A pause and step backward, as if hesitant to turn her back on him; cautious, but still sure to show she was the one in power.

It seemed that Quiet obeyed almost immediately; a plucky, frugal servant setting up the spread of items he’d prepared for her, not uttering much but a request for her patience as he set things up. This she adhered to more out of interest than respect for the little bird; what he was doing was certainly entertaining, to say the least. And if she got a dinner and a show out of it, then perhaps for now he didn’t have to be the main course.

But admittedly, the amount of care and attention which he provided did indeed surprise her. Beast watched as Quiet knelt beside her, daring to get close to her paws. As he brushed several sticks together, Beast feigned disinterest, turning away - but as they erupted into a cascade of flames, it was hard to look away.

Light. Real, genuine light - and not just the kind that filtered in from above. Fire, of course, wasn’t uncommon for civilized beings - but without opposable thumbs, actually lighting one was impossible. And it was better not even getting into the semantics over lumber. As Quiet placed it amidst several other logs on the ground, Beast looked over him, cold and formidable as always; but there was a power within her which seemed to acknowledge this act with humility.

She didn’t need to say it for Quiet to know the first stage had worked.

How did you know that would get her attention?

Humanity craves light, Hunted stated plainly. She may be a monster now, but there will always be a part of her that was once human. If we’re going through with this from your angle, then it makes sense to approach it from the facts: to bring comfort where it’s lacking. And right now, we might’ve actually gained some ground. 

Then, after a pause:

Your crazy plan just might work. Keep going.

Hero didn’t need to be told twice. The second stage, of course, would be the most unsettling - bringing down the game and preparing it.

Birds. It has to be birds, didn’t it? The reminder of proximity wasn’t exactly comforting from anyone’s point of view. But nevertheless, Quiet brought them down with a handful of red berries crushed into an impromptu sauce, laying them down by the fire. It seemed a curious shift twisted Beast’s expression as she looked down, eyeing Quiet with a twitch of her tail.

“Interesting choice.”

“I’m not quite finished yet.”

Quiet took the Blade from his side, and began to prepare each of the poultry for the fire. Beast’s incredulity turned to genuine interest; perhaps almost appreciation.

“You’re taking this a lot more seriously than I thought,” she remarked, struggling to keep the apathetic facade. “I expected you to run off the first chance you got.”

“That wouldn’t do either of us any good,” Quiet retorted, keeping his head low as he worked precisely with the knife. “After all, we both know I can’t escape you in any way that matters.”

“It doesn’t seem like there’s ‘just nothing’ out there like you described,” Beast offered challengingly. “This is quite a bit more than just barren woods can offer.”

“Something’s changed,” Quiet murmured, placing one filet over the fire. “And it keeps changing. It seems like each time I go back out, there’s something more there. I don’t know what to think of it, or where it ends. But it doesn’t feel wrong.”

Beast didn’t respond immediately. Flecks of firelight illuminated tints of sepia and moss on her pelt, and greasy curtains of raven hair, motionless as a gargoyle. Then, slowly, she dipped her head.

“Perhaps you are finally understanding the world around us, and the ground we stand on with one another. The death of one thing is not out of cold blood; sometimes, it is an act of mercy. Otherwise, a means of survival. It is something that you cannot understand until you have been on both sides of the coin; the assailant and the victim.”

Quiet looked over at the butchered meat in taloned hands. Regardless of whether the intent was feeding it to his would-be predator, she had a point. 

“I suppose it is one in the same, is it not?”

“It is. You hunt because you have to survive. Our relationships to one another are formed by the designs of nature; it is not an act of cruelty but necessity.” Her tone shifted, from understanding to callous. Venom seeped into every syllable as she prowled, restless in her chains.

 “But when this all began, you lacked that perspective. You lashed out because you were told to, not because you had to; you had your chance to make an ally and chose betrayal instead. And I know better than to trust a coward who only cries mercy when his own skin is on the line.”

Quiet knew better than to respond to the words, letting them sink in. Being thrown into the hustle and bustle of the old murdering business wasn’t exactly his first pick to begin with, but there were things he’d done that were beyond the pale. Their little game of predator and prey truly left neither party innocent in the end, even now - but the fact she had stated as such left hope. The fact this didn’t end in blood and gore where conversation could be had instead; where listless chatter was replaced with cold, hard negotiation.

“But this,” Beast continued, “is much more than I’d expect from a coward begging for his life.”

Quiet barely got all of the meat cooked and garnished before Beast tore into them, leaving no remains. Nervously, he nibbled on one of the few pieces left; an act of acceptance, despite circumstance.

You’ll get used to it, Hunted reassured. It’s just how things are. It’s how we have to be.

Bird and Beast lingered under the stars and flames, caught in the lapse of true, negotiated silence. Her bold form caught shadows of the skylight above, the cage bars all the more intimidating from their vantage point. But still, she did not waver in the face of that familiar hostility. As the fire finally ended itself in a brilliant blur, Beast circled its ashes, curling around the spot like a Phoenix in waiting.

“You’ve done fairly well for today,” Beast chirped, turning her head over to look behind one wing. “Let’s see if you have the strength to continue.” And without another word, she dropped off to sleep. 

Her features softened, whiskers twitching. The reek of death seemed far less intimidating on her now that the time had passed in peace. For a moment, Quiet almost debated laying next to her.

But thankfully, his wits (and the incomprehensible screeching of two horrified voices from within) snapped him out of it, and retired to the upper landing of the basement stairs.

So perhaps this time, he’d learned his first lesson. Beast was cruel and callous, but not unreasonable; and if things continued in his favor, maybe he didn’t have to do any slaying.

—-

You hunt because you have to survive. You lacked that perspective before. Necessity begets cruelty.

The voice that dwelled in the lingering edges of Quiet’s sleep came from neither voice, but rather his own. Even in rest they circled like a mantra, folding two pairs of clipped wings over himself like a blanket and laying back, praying for a quiet night. The snores of the princess ripped through the otherwise peaceful night air, making it hard at first; but as the time ticked on, resisting rest was unbearable. Quiet finally submitted to his own biology, shrouded with only the perceived comforts of a possible truce.

When morning came and not a scratch was left upon him, it seemed that the gamble had played out for now. But due diligence was the name of the game; he wouldn’t win anything over by slacking. Without even bothering to check for the Princess (she didn’t call, so chances were she remained asleep), the cabin door swung open to reveal what a night’s worth of peace had overruled from former desolation.

Roots, shrubs, and burrows were immediately visible this time around as Quiet stepped out, noting the swish of unfamiliar tails and brand new sounds from local fauna. Indeed, things were as they’d predicted; the world around them was changing, but into much more an ecosystem opposed to just a barren landscape of sparse, meek prey. The same lot of geese still swam circles around the water, sure - but the further Quiet looked and wandered, the more he noticed he was less and less alone.

More opportunities to make his way along the landscape offered themselves immediately. More ideas on how to pay his respects. More ways to get injured, Hunted chimed in, worriedly. She’s not the only predator out here anymore. We should keep our senses sharp, and not take any further risks.

That certainly sounds like a good idea to me, Hero agreed. As great as it was to have some rest, I presume I speak for everyone when I’d rather than keep up and avoid stab wounds from pretty much anything out here. So, same plan?

There seemed to be no immediate objections, and so Quiet headed forward towards the river bend. After Hunted investigated the area and confirmed no immediate threats, it was back to the same circumstances as before.

Quick, sharp, precise. No pain, no suffering; the point was strictly survival, and speed would be the element here in making sure they weren’t outcompeted. Upon striking another duck through the throat, his arm shot out to reach it; a quick, sharp bite to the back of his hand had Quiet recoiling. An opportune weasel had shot through the grass and stolen his catch out from under him, dragging the creature along by the neck back to its den. As Quiet drew nearer, the cause for the attack was more obvious, as three small, rounded forms bristled from beneath twigs and carrion.

Oh, Hero sighed, as Quiet shook his head. I guess she needs it more than us, then.

One kill usually assists the survival of another, Hunted agreed, watching as the weasel pups bit small pieces from their prey. A life for a life. Determining who lives and who dies isn’t really up to us; just making our own way through and surviving the best we can.

With that plan scrapped, Quiet wandered further down the path; deciduous brackets of spruce and fir blocked his path in many directions, but he trekked on. Perhaps if he could gather a few herbs, then they could come up with the rest.

That night, Quiet brought back a medley of foraged fruits and a hand-woven basket of water. Of course, anything that he could carry was far too small for someone of Beast’s stature; it took several refills for her to have finally taken in her fill. Yet again, this was met with approval, although a sense of wandering curiosity.

“No meat this time,” she noted, flicking aside a stem. “Did your luck finally run out?”

“Well… Yes and no,” Quiet began, and explained what he’d seen that day. About the weasels, and a deer he’d freed from a strangling overgrowth of vines.

“So that’s why you smell of blood,” she chuckled. Her amusement seemed to be kept, though, so he continued.

“The lake has expanded into a full ecosystem by now as well; it’s not just ducks anymore. And oh, I was going to give you this later, but -“

Quiet barely had enough time to whip it out from behind his back before Beast had smelled fish and capitalized on it, nearly taking his hands in the process. But opposed to crushing them between her teeth, she simply allowed them to slide back out from her massive maw with a soft purr.

Is it me, or is she almost getting soft on us?

Hunted didn’t respond. But the soft lingering fascination where the little voice would’ve spoken initiated the feeling wasn’t completely unshared.

Wiping his hands off on the basement’s leaves with a disgruntled murmur, Quiet looked up at Beast expectantly. “Well, it’s been two days now. Out of all the things I’ve brought you so far, what is the one you liked the most?”

“Your stories,” Beast replied, with a dip of her head. “At first I thought it impossible, but perhaps we aren’t so different after all.”

And so as time went on, that was precisely what Quiet brought. Instead of gifts with the occasional tale alongside them, the Long Quiet would regale the creature with the ways in which the Construct shifted and changed with each and every gift and moment of progress between them. How the bones brought back from meals he brought were growing fresh colonies of mushrooms; how wild grass brought hares and foxes, and a variety of different flora and fauna. And each and every time, he would bring back a blade of grass or hoof or feather, letting her take it in at her own pace.

The next night, the Princess tested him again, wrinkling her nose in amusement. “I’d like to actually see it sometime.”

“Then perhaps there is still a way I can show you, even from here.”

At first, Beast believed this another bluff; but as always, she was a patient predator, and his words intrigued her.

The space had become much less a prison and more a home of stasis and change. For when life fell for death, the earth itself unwound to their whims. And with each passing day beyond the first and the next, it seemed that the Princess wasn’t a threat to this world, but one who brought life into the open plains beyond. One who had either forgotten to kill him after their deal, or had else decided against it.

The feeling was mutual. For as much Quiet feared her, the thoughts of her never left his mind.

Are we… Actually in love?

It would seem that way, Hunted remarked. For the first time since the bet had begun, the underlying tremor had resolved, his voice growing louder and less afraid. I don’t know how or why, but nature can be surprising sometimes.

This trek down the cabin path led them to the briars where they’d freed the doe from her thorny prison. Time itself lost, it seemed that days or weeks could’ve past since then; thick tangles of roots and vines made for a barrier, but the reward this time was sweet, as large bloodied blossoms sprawled across the field.

Appealing to humanity again? It might work, Hunted offered. Just make sure that we don’t forget about dinner.

Quiet places the blade to the side of the bush where one shone brightly; cutting swiftly for one, then another. A stout creature scuffled next to them, growling softly: a badger, likely out on the prowl for food. It looked to Quiet almost pleadingly before burying its nose into the bushes.

Wait, what is it -?

A whimper struck them as they recoiled, face bloodied by small scratches from the branches. In its mouth, several ruby petals fell pathetically to the ground, and the saddened creature lunged for another strike.

Quiet reached down to pick the badger up by the nape of its neck. Immediately, to his surprise, they loosened their grip and allowed him.

A wary silence passed as they looked up at him, the pleading almost human. Then their eyes drifted to the bush again, and back to Quiet. A single snip of the blade was all it took to cut off another flower, setting the creature down and handing it to them.

Odd behavior, Hero quipped. But better to humor it than let it keep doing that, right?

The badger froze for a moment, seeing if it was a trap - then snatched the flower without hesitation and scampered away with a thankful bark.

I wonder where he’s going with it -

As Quiet brushed into the clearing, it seemed to be more obvious. Partially healed over scars from the injured doe glistened in the moonlight, flicking an ear to him warily from where she lay. The badger flung past, rose held firmly in its mouth. Quiet let them pass without question, and crouched with the weapon buried in the earth to prove he was not a threat.

The doe relaxed slightly and turned her attention to the badger bounding forth. By her feet it lay it forth, licking her wounded flesh tenderly. The small playful growls and clicks rising in their throat were enough for the odd reasoning to be clear.

Mutualistic relationship, Hunted observed. But that doesn’t usually happen between two like these. This is different; I suppose the forest brought its own surprises.

For a moment, Quiet didn’t want to move from the pair and their affectionate embrace; a sweet sight in the midst of all the doom and gloom was nice, showing there was some lasting good from his actions. Perhaps the same could be true for the one he’d hurt the most, but only time could tell.

We’re still thinking about her, hmm? Hero chuckled the words, drawing Quiet’s fingers to tap rhythmically on the wood of a nearby tree. Come on, then; let’s get something special for tonight. I think we’ve done our fair share of the usual fare by this point.

Do you remember what we told her - about showing her the world? Hunted’s voice had a small speck of wonder to it. I think I may have a few ideas.

———

The night was one to be remembered if nothing else. It was all a wonderful, beautiful blur.

Firelight flickered against the walls under the bones of a hard-earned meal. The blood spatters from when things had all begun had all but faded out into the earth, the stone - becoming part of this place. 

Life, death, rebirth.

A paw against the worm-down floors.

A tattered shackle brazened against the glow of a burning stick.

“Here,” Quiet murmured. “If you’ll allow me.”

A gently raised paw; not in anger or violence but clear, patient poise. Embers licked against the metal around the cuff, melting away layers of steel in its grasp. A soft gasp. A look away. The flames were working in service of an overdue burden.

Thin metal strips shed like outgrown skin off a lizard; bringing a place from the old for the new. The flames died down, and the now-half cuff more clanked to the ground than slipped off her foreleg. She stepped away, tentatively at first; almost not trusting it. The skin beneath had lost a great deal of fur; bruised and blistered from repeated scuffs against the heavy metal.

Quiet scarcely said a word as he went over, plucking a nearby leaf from the jungle floor. They were large and broad - just enough to provide enough covering for the injury.

Finding any sort of ointment would be the tricky part, but better to at least start by avoiding further exposure; carefully he knelt beside her, offering it with a curious tilt of his head.

“May I?”

Beast hesitated, then acquiesced. It was funny, really; seeing this odd little bird scamper around and scuffle about her every whim - even ones she didn’t quite know about yet. But more so, the blind shock of what had happened was overwhelming her above all else.

Did that mean he’d changed his mind? It was certainly a step in the right direction, but the deliberate acknowledgement hadn’t been given.

For the first time since she’s known him, the Princess opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Just a shocked, dazed expression indicating nothing but confusion.

“How’s that?”

Beast nodded, unsure what to say.

“There’s more,” Quiet added. And from the look on his face, it seemed like it was something particularly nice. And with that in mind, could it mean-?

Something in her finally felt that jolt of hope. Perhaps they finally understood each other, after all.

The Princess brushed forward, eagerly making her way through the branches and leaves. Getting a bit ahead of herself, perhaps, she frolicked momentarily in the forest forray - finally unchained and loose. It was like watching a kitten with a toy mouse - except genuinely endearing. Nothing like the alternative of being said plaything.

I suppose we did some good, after all, Hunted mused. It was odd, in a sense; the monster that had once terrified him wasn’t that much different after all; she just wanted to survive and thrive like the rest of them.

And that was when his heart sank. But it was too late; Hero had already assumed control. 

I don’t think we should be doing this, Hunted countered. She’s happy now. We did something good. If we do this, it’ll make things worse.

Why? Hero asked, genuinely confused. Watching Beast play from afar, Quiet began to scale the wall and slither up towards the skylight. This should make things more comfortable for her.

This isn’t where she belongs, Hunted insisted.

Quiet nearly dropped the blade in his hands as he sawed through the bars.

Okay, Hero chuckled nervously, I get it; we want to help her. But, with the stakes as they are, this still seems like a fair compromise. No world ending, and everybody’s safe.

You just hyped her up for freedom for nothing! True, palpable rage sunk into Hunted’s voice; a kind of empathy even he was surprised in being able to muster.

As the voices fought in his head, Quiet tried to continue his work of sawing off the bars from the skylight - something which, at best, only Beast’s paws could reach. One by one they fell back into her enclosure with a loud clink, but it only took the first for her to notice the shift, standing bolt upright in the foliage.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh… Nothing, Princess. Just trying to give you a little more light in here to make things more comfortable-“

Quiet never got further than that. Taking the sawed beams from the basement floor and plunging them deep into the walls, she scaled each “rung” just enough to grab quiet by the back of the neck and drag him down with her.

Just like another preything  - or perhaps a naughty kitten. Given the rage and distrust in Beast’s eyes, that look of a secondary betrayal laid deep within her, it didn’t seem like the distinction mattered to much.

But beyond frightening, the Princess looked grief-stricken. Tears threatened to pool from her glowing eyes, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. The lump in her throat was clearly forming. This wasn’t a creature longing to shred her assailant, no; this was someone begging to know why she’d been hurt yet again.

A huff, a groan, a whimper. Beast was trying and failing to keep her composure.

“Is this really the best you can do?! Was this your grand surprise?”

Ripping one of the beams out of the wall, she flung it across the room. Sighing, panting, almost roaring, she looked over her target with an angered gaze.

“You still haven’t started your intentions, at the end of all of this.”

Sitting in the dark of the room, both creatures looked up over the skylight; its looming presence a grim reminder of the severity of the situation. A nicer cage, she had said, but still a prison.

Quiet didn’t reply for a moment, although didn’t shift away from her gaze; the looming eyes of the burly predator were challenging and powerful. For what could’ve been days or weeks, things had remained the same; not timeless, no, but also not fully within the bounds of natural passage.

But now, he was faced with what had started it all.

“My… Intentions?”

“We both know that this ends one way or another,” Beast growled, giving a snort. “Just as always.”

“Oh.” Quiet shifted slightly, lowering his head. The gleam in his bright white eyes stung with painful recollection. “That’s right.”

“You were sent here to kill me, and I you. Try as you might to make things up, don’t think I’ve forgotten how this all began.”

With a knife in her back. That was the truth of it all, wasn’t it? A forged tale of rescue, a fallacy of friendship; a bond of trust broken so far and surely that few things could ever hope to repair it. But as he gazed back up at Beast, that visage of hatred and bloodlust wasn’t what Quiet saw anymore. Not by a long shot.

“Perhaps… It doesn’t have to end that way,” Quiet offered, extending a taloned hand. 

Beast looked over at it, sniffing begrudgingly; it was raised the way he’d learned to over his time around her, with the tips of his fingers away from her. A sign of repentance,  and perhaps regret. But nevertheless, she turned her head from him; still sullen, but knowing him better than to attempt to strike. His act, while painful, was not out of malice.

“There is only one thing I want,” she insisted, claws absently rending the earth. “And you know what that is.”

“So that hasn’t changed, has it?”

No inclination of fear tinged his voice; it seemed that in the countless hours left alone with the sulking behemoth and the voices in his head, there was a false sense of security which had cloaked these strange encounters. But even when threatened, it didn’t lift. Why, he wasn’t sure.

We knew this was a possibility from the beginning, Hunted lamented. We were only stalling the inevitable.

But she’s right; there is no exit out here; it seems we truly are stuck here until we kill her.

Or she kills us. Which is more likely.

“May I ask why?”

Beast straightened up, turning her head towards the unruly creature. “Your love is tender, but it is hollow without the promise of freedom,” she began, circling him like clockwork. “You come and go from the Cabin as you please, while I am left down here to languish alone in your absence.” As if a marionette of nature, she recoiled, tail whipping vegetation down to the stem. In the first time in what felt forever, Quiet submitted to instinct and withdrew. She had been right about one thing after all; she was so much more than him.

“A tethered love cannot survive, and stay or leave I will still be the same. I am what I am, Fledgeling. And your wits span far beyond lacking those of a foolish prey who wandered too close to somewhere you do not belong.”

“So that’s it, then? It all comes down to… Instinct?”

It always has been, Hunted reminded. That’s why you need me. That’s why you should’ve listened -

Quiet tuned out the pleasing voice, turning his attention towards the Princess - even if it was against all better judgment.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” Beast commented nonchalantly, nestling down where she sat. “How or why this is a surprise to you, I do not understand.”

“I just thought you’d feel differently by now. After… Everything.”

Beast scoffed, ears flattening against her skull.

“A few hollow favors mean nothing. You won’t let me go, and you won’t leave, so that leaves very few options forward.”

“And yet, you haven’t made any moves yourself.”

Don’t remind her of that! That is a very bad thing to do.

But it seemed to be enough to throw the Princess off guard. Beast paused for a moment, tail ceased in movement as much as her enormous frame. She didn’t respond for a moment, merely hunkering down in resignation. As much as she didn’t like how easily it had been pointed out, her opponent was right; perhaps, then, she was softening despite it all. Well, that simply wouldn’t do.

“This won’t last forever. If you think you’ll remain safe by my side, you’re wrong.”

“I know.”

Quiet’s answer surprised her; ears perked up, staring into those blank, hollow sockets of his in search of meaning. What she found wasn’t resignation, nor a quitter’s repose; it was an aching, solemn acknowledgement of what was to come; an acceptance of her terms of service. So perhaps it wasn’t stupidity which kept him glued to the spot. Or perhaps it was just a different kind of stupidity.

Beast looked him over, tilting her head in frustrated confusion. Quiet sighed, wearily picking up the Pristine Blade.

“Do I have to demonstrate for it to sink in?”

Brandishing the weapon in one hand, the avian held it up to the Princess’s eye level. Then, with a quick toss, threw it across the cave with a satisfying clink.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

“You’ve made a foolish choice.” 

Beast growled, tail lashing. Her jaws parted, ready to lunge, to swallow him whole -

But it seemed that something had stopped her. That sickly sweet sense of partnership that had worked its way in; and knowing that he would not survive through the end if she got her way for once made Beast rather hesitant. He had called her bluff quite accurately. She hated it.

“You have until the morning,” Beast spat. “If you are not gone by then, I will devour you.”

Huh. She’s giving us a choice?

Quiet watched as Beast circled the den angrily, now free of her bindings. In the starlit room, her shifting to curl up was fully exposed by the fractured rays of the moon; immense, furious, beautiful. Two eyes watched challengingly as she looked over her opponent, full of spite and hate -

-And also, by the look of it, almost begging him to leave.

But only for a moment. Exhaustion kicked in moments later, sapping what was left of her stamina. Her feline features fell cold and restless, turning into an uneasy sleep.

For a long moment, Quiet sat with himself in the dark. His form lingered on the stairwell, hesitating as he traced the ancient wooden banister.

We can go up, and this will all be behind us, Hero offered. I mean, we did our best. There’s no changing her.

Quiet looked back over his head, looking at the sleeping creature they were leaving behind. Something in his heart ached - something much more painful to him than the thought of those ragged teeth.

I don’t know if it will, argued Hunted. We can’t go very far past the cabin; there are trees, yes, but it will just be another game of survival. There’s no telling if one or both of us will wilt away before then and destroy it all.

Is “Mr. Instinct” really saying we should throw ourselves to her?

  Quiet grimaced. Despite the warning signs, the thought was rather tempting.

We worked to gain her trust, and now we have it. Was that not the plan; to find a way where no one has to die? I really don’t think she wants to kill us. And, Hunted added morosely, if we fail, what’s to keep her from coming back as something worse?

Quiet removed his hand from the steps, turning towards her. A solemn, lonely creature seemed to take the form of the monster he once knew; bristle-backed, hungry, but wanting more. It would be treason to turn his back on her now; that much was true. Perhaps there was something more worthwhile here than merely saving his own hide.

I’m begging you; don’t do this.

Quiet ignored the pleading. His avian form practically glided across the floor, scampering back over. Beads of drool hung loosely from Beast’s mouth as they veered closer, turning restless in her sleep. Sheathed paws stirred and twitched for something. Upon his approach, they stopped.

Beast was not a creature who could be easily seen, nor felt if not by tooth and claw. Against his better judgment, he reached out just to get a taste of what he’d been missing.

Beast didn’t stir, so carefully, he proceeded.

Her freshly-washed flank was coarse and rough, but the undercoat had an unusual softness to it. Loose strands of her mane felt almost silky as they fell from her shoulders to his, bathing in the pearlescent moonlight. The tattered fabric of what had once been her dress felt softer than expected; pilled and loose from wear and tear, but still strong and flexible against rigid muscles. Every bit of her felt relaxed; strong, yet pliable. This was a monster’s body, alright. But the heart within beat with something much more.

Beast murmured something incomprehensible in her sleep. Strong paws enfolded around him, making both voices freeze. Quiet took it, closing his eyes as she wrapped herself around him until he nestled against her underside.

Quiet blinked, feeling the bickering from within grow to a boil. The throbbing of a heart, the rush of air in and out of her lungs, and the hollow rumbles of an empty, waiting stomach became all around him but darkness.

We are absolutely going to die.

No, echoed Hunted, moving one hand towards the beating of her heart. For once, I don’t think we are.

After a restless couple of moments, and the uneasy settling of the frightened voice within, Quiet shifted to accommodate himself on the nest her paw provided and finally drifted off to sleep.

This had been the first time he had been able to rest near her. And if it was to be the last, then it was better to make the best out of it.

—-

Morning came hours later, cut clear by the rays of light seeping through the sawed-off grate above. Beast, predictably, was the first to arise. Rolling over from one side, she prepared herself for her morning stretch when she felt the shifting weight along her paw. Relief and grief blended together when she noticed the source, and the conditions.

It’s fine, she growled to herself, just get it over with.

A sleeping passenger would be much easier than one giving chase; it hardly seemed fair, but then again he had more than ample warnings to avoid this fate. There was nothing left to be said; merely acted. Beast had succumbed to far less motion than she would’ve liked.

What happened was obvious by the way they’d slept together, two entities lingering for one another’s company. But the way in which it carried on was even more perplexing.

He knows where he belongs, she reasoned. That’s why he stayed. But a lie was a lie, and there was no denying that. And if she didn’t act soon, she’d lose the war brewing within herself.

No matter how much it stung for the moment, there was only one course of action.

Beast picked him up off the ground with one paw and unhinged her jaws. In mere moments, he was devoured.

Now free of the temptations of emotion over survival, Beast licked her chops and arose. This would require finite time, and things were better this way - with the bird somehow miraculously asleep through the whole ordeal. Had exhaustion hit him that hard?

The glint of metal caught her eye; the Blade resting on the artificial forest floor. So he’d decided on it, after all. Unarmed and defenseless -

Beast couldn’t understand what possessed her to make the move, but that, too, joined him. A foolish move of hubris, or else an act of spite between instinct and compassion - it didn’t matter. 

Their cycle would continue on, one way or another. Predator and prey. Life and death. Nature was rigid and cruel, and there was no denying any part of that.

As Beast carried forward to begin her climb towards the stairs, however, there was a twinge in the pit of her stomach; something which hadn’t been there before. Where once a chamber rested beneath her ribs flooded with acid and bile, a more benevolent ensemble of fluids had seeped and wormed their way into the pores beneath bone and gristle. After all, the princess was a creature of perception; it seemed that over time her prey had formed a bond even deeper than words and gifts alone. But the question still remained: would that bond last?

That was up for Quiet to decide. After all, she had swallowed the blade. If he wanted to use it, then there was no stopping him, but perhaps in this eerie quiet, their minds were just as linked, drinking in the silence that passed.

For now, she would relish the moment. She had eaten him; she’d won. And yet, the bird within remained safe as could be in his sinewed prison. Knowing that it would only be a matter of time before he finally awoke, Beast hunkered down and drew her head inwards, tucked against the throbbing palpitations of her massive heart and the stirring creature she held hostage. Perhaps Quiet was right; the respite from all the fighting wasn’t bad after all. But it would be up to him to decide if the pulse keeping her alive - keeping both of them alive - was worth saving, or if slaughtering them both was how this would play out in the end.

And surprisingly, it seemed for once the bloodthirsty monster prayed he would choose to end the cycle of violence, once and for all.

Some hours passed in the calm embrace, with the princess wrapped around her catch, only turning her neck or twitching in her sleep. It seemed that Quiet, too, remained undisturbed for some time in his own conditions, exhaustion and remorse keeping him near comatose as he curled up in the organic confines. It was only as the fluid levels rose and the dripping from above fell rhythmic on his near-sodden form that he finally began to stir; slowly at first, then bolt upright in panic.

Smooth, sodden walls offered no purchase as he scrabbled desperately, heart beating wildly in his chest. The finite air seemed to replenish steadily, much to his surprise; something which Hero was too startled to take in, but the curious, fixated attention of Hunted caught immediately.

Well… That’s it, then. It was a gamble, and it’s bloody over now. I should’ve listened to you before; now it’s too late for that.

Actually, no. It’s not.

Hero balked. I’m…. Sorry?

Whatever you did seems to have worked, actually. We’re fine. We’re safe.

Safe. The word reverberated around Quiet’s mindscape like a trance, pulling him into a sense of delirium which was rudely awakened by the other voice.

Safe. Safe? Have you gone mad?! She ate us!

Swallowed, Hunted corrected calmly. If she’d have eaten us, we’d already been dead.

Maybe it’s just slow, maybe it’s -

No. There’s no pain, no numbness. No digestion at all. And we can breathe. She’s keeping us alive. This is intentional.

Hero scoffed. Isn’t it your job to be doing the panicking, not mine?

My job is to keep us alive and assess the survivability of the situation. Let me handle the instincts, thank you.

The sudden bitterness from the other voice was enough to snap Hero from his fearful trance. That much was true; Hunted was here for a reason, and if the voice of instinct wasn’t crying out this very moment to rip and tear at every scrap of flesh and blood available, then surely that was a good sign. Right?

Reluctant and exhausted by the internal fight within himself, Quiet resigned himself to sit down within his organic prison. Something metallic brushed his hand. Hero seized control before any objections could be offered otherwise.

It’s… The Blade. She swallowed the Blade! We can actually get out of here-

Don’t.

A note of panic clouded the firmness in the other voice’s tone; it was enough to make Hero hesitated, albeit suspiciously.

O…kay. And why not?

We threw the Steel Claw; that means she put it back in here with us. If we strike first, she will respond in kind. A wounded animal will always strike back against their assailant if given the chance, and then we’ll all die. She’s testing us. Drop it.

So what are you suggesting? Just stew in here until she decides to let us out?

Talk to her. She’s waiting for us to cue her that we know what she’s doing.

And you can tell that by-? Eugh!

Hero didn’t need any further introduction; a single look down was enough to release his own hold on the blade in disgust. It seemed that Hunted had taken the lead on their host this time, kneeling down and plunging the other hand into the surrounding fluids till it connected with the stomach lining.

What…. What Are you doing?!

Pulse. Hunted’s voice remained a calm, nonchalant murmur, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing anyone could possibly do in this situation. She’s calm now, see? But she’s getting impatient. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.

As if on cue, the rhythmic throbbing along Beast’s skin elevated. Her patience was waning.

Now. Talk to her now.

“So, you’re awake.”

Beast’s voice reverberated around Quiet, a hollow growl devoid of any aggression. It shook the surrounding area all the same, carving fear into the avian’s trembling form - but he didn’t crack, didn’t waver. Instead, he decided to play it on the safe side, speaking up quietly:

“What is it you want with me?”

“I want to leave ,” Beast replied sullenly. Even though he couldn’t see her, Quiet could practically feel her ears pinned against her skull. “You had your chance, and now it’s mine. It’s just as I said: if you won’t let me, then I will find my own way, even if it isn’t suitable to you.”

“And how does this help, exactly?”

“You hold powers beyond my own to enter and exit of your own volition. You won’t share them with me. I would just carry your restless form between my teeth, like the unruly kitten you’ve proven to be. But my teeth are sharp and you are disobedient. If you chose to act out against me, you would not survive - and the drapings of rot and decay do not fool the Cabin.”

“But… Here?”

You already know why. Stop asking foolish questions to an impatient creature.

I want to hear it from her.

“I warned you this was your fate if you didn’t cooperate,” Beast reminded, licking her paw. “Perhaps you didn’t believe me. Perhaps you wanted to test my prowess. But regardless, the desires in your insolence don’t matter as much as the outcome. I needed you somewhere you would not run off the moment you were given the opportunity. You should be grateful that I need you alive.”

Her pulse is elevated. Something tells me that isn’t the only reason she’s sparing us.

Does it really matter?

Yes.

“The Blade,” Quiet chanced, feathers bristing. “Was that intentional?”

Beast’s lips formed into a grin. Somehow, intrinsically, Quiet could feel it as she chuckled.

“You noticed. I thought I felt you reach for it, and yet you did not act. So, I guess you meant it after all; you didn’t intend to slay me.”

See? I told you it was a test.

“No. I did not.”

The calming exhale rippled through Beast’s lithe form. Despite the disconcerting way it presented, Hunted was right; Beast was immensely readable at this vantage point. And right now, all signs she was giving off pointed to docility.

Perhaps it was worth inquiring further.

“But it seems the feeling is mutual.”

Beast’s body stiffened. The muscles around Quiet contracted, making the space around him almost painful.

“Don’t read too far into this,” Beast rumbled. “I am merely repaying a debt. Whether you see it as such or not is up to you. I owe you nothing once this is over.”

As the princess relaxed, it seemed the surroundings did with it. Quiet winced, rubbing a spare hand over his sore wrists. Well, it seems you were right about one thing.

You proved me wrong about your own gamble. Now it’s my turn.

Fine, but we’re not staying hunched over like this. Caustic or not, I’d prefer not being constricted at her every whim.

At Hero’s disgruntled request, Quiet repositioned himself to rest against the further wall, back of the hand pressed against the princess’s nerves to check for her pulse. We can still gauge her just fine from here.

“So, then, what’s the plan? I presume given that neither of us plans to kill the other, the only way is up, right? Or did you have more you wanted to say first?”

“You’re too okay with this.” Beast’s words were challenging, but only in tone; there was no visceral reaction this time, no shift in environment. No active change in pulse, Hunted noted. Can’t tell if she’s holding it in, or bluffing.

“Pardon?”

“For someone who spent days trying to convince me to spend eternity down here, you’re suddenly willing to leave? It doesn’t track. You’re planning something.”

And there was the elevation in pulse. It wasn’t anger; it was coarse, rigid fear. So it seemed that they’d dropped the pretenses. The predator cornered by her own prey.

What now?

Hunted paused a moment, formulating a proper response. You know why you decided to string us along for the ride, don’t you? Use it. And don’t let on we can read her.

Hero took the hand this time; leading by intrinsic feeling, not any specific motion. Even in the dark, cramped space, there was enough light to soak in the subtle detail; roots of veins and arteries entwined in a web like jagged forest vines; subliminal detail carved within every offshoot of rugae. But even within this delicate dance beneath his fingertips, Quiet could feel something more; an aching pulse, a fragile wound beneath the surface. Pure, real lamentation embedded so deep within that ferocious heart. Guided by the sickly trance, he permitted his head to dip towards it in respect; resigned, but not defeated as he explained:

“My commitment wasn’t ignorance. I knew that staying may well mean the end for me, and that it risked releasing you out into the world. And yet, you are not the only one who’s trapped here. I still have no proof that you are a threat, and any inquiries on the matter are met with deflection or silence. On the contrary, really; I’ve seen the world out there blossom more than I could ever imagine from your presence. Perhaps you really are meant to see it for yourself.”

A soft, shaky laugh left him, placing the other hand beside it. He could tell by the slight jolts beneath each cautious fingertip that he was close to nerves.

“There’s only one way to know if you’ll bring about creation or destruction in your wake; I can’t get out of here without you, and it’s clear if left with slaying you or letting you leave where this ends. I can only hope this is the right decision.”

Beast listened to the bird’s speech in silence, at first unimpressed; but as the conviction in his voice grew, it seemed his words were genuine. Nevertheless, she kept her posture neutral, head held low; nothing that he said could be fully believed until it was followed through, after all, and it was better to make it quick if she wanted to keep it plausible without a fight.

Her footsteps fell heavy on the jungle floor, sweeping away plants and dead matter as she trod. Her lingering eyes caught sight of the loose chain - that was right, he had unchained her - sniffing it in disgust before punting it to the wall with a satisfied huff.

“Saying your farewells to the place?”

It was interesting hearing Quiet’s voice from within; he almost sounded… Amused.

“Good riddance, more like,” Beast spat, although it seemed that a bit of intrigue had crept into her own.

Circling the concrete slab that connected the chain to the wall, her eyes drifted momentarily up to the skylight; where there had once been bars, the strange little bird had clambered up and sawed them off to make the space more breathable. Still a cage, but less of a prison in nature. Perhaps he really was trying his best in the end.

But no time for dawdling. If there was a time to move, it was now. Using her hulking form to brush past the jungle’s forestry, Beast made her way to the stairs with cargo safely stored away.

This was the mark of a new beginning - for both of them.

As Beast continued up the stairs, her heart rate thudded against Quiet’s ears. Breaths grew heavier, more begrudgingly determined; the subtle shift and sway made it harder to stay upright as she ascended.

I suppose we did it, then, Hero sighed, unsure if it was uneasiness or relief flooding him. But we don’t know exactly what yet, do we?

We survived. Whatever comes next can wait. 

Comparatively, it seemed that the other voice was beyond at ease despite the current conditions; no sense of panic or duress, more so sheltered by the body of the creature seemingly protecting them. How or why, though, Hero couldn’t possibly begin to understand.

Alright, if you say so.

After a few moments, it seemed that the ground had evened out; Beast had finally made her way to the door. But the reaction to being so close, indeed, was not like either of them had expected. 

Here she was, in front of everything she’d ever wanted: after all this time, she’d finally found a friend and freedom. And yet, even as she shuffled and pawed at the door, it did not budge. Hesitantly, she tried again, this time nudging against it with her horn; was it stuck, or was this a trap? Anger seemed to flood her momentarily, claws digging into the floorboards -

“Is something wrong?”

“The door won’t open,” she snarled, feeling every muscle of her body seize with rage.

Does she need our permission to leave?

I think so.

Quiet winced at the compression, but fought through the pain this time. Hands placed down on sore muscles and nerves, heaving a sigh as he tried to get through to her.

“It’s alright. You’re free to go.”

There was a click, and a shift in movement. The sensation of churning as his form was shifted upwards and out, landing beside Beast in a wet heap. As she faced him, forepaws behind her back, it seemed the look of surprise and astonishment was mutual.

Soft grass and gentle breeze whisked over their aching forms. So that could only mean one thing.

No words needed to be spoken for a moment as they both took it in, the Princess breathless. Her back talons curled inward, imitating Quiet’s gesture of peace. Her eyes narrowed once again, but it wasn’t in caution. “I suppose it worked out to listen to you.”

“For the both of us,” Quiet agreed. “I suppose, then, it’s over?”

Quiet’s drifting thoughts were cut off as massive jaws loomed over head -

Bloody hell, not again -

-Only to scoop him up by the scruff of his neck, her head swinging towards the river. It begged no question who was in control of the body when Quiet went completely limp from the gesture; the suspicion only more so confirmed by the radiating sense of comfort where once trembling instinct had served its place. So Beast had marked herself and ally that day; there wasn’t much more they could ask for.

But those thoughts, too, seemed short-lived by the sudden intake of freezing cold water. Quiet gasped and spluttered, looking up at Beast in shock and horror. The Princess, contrarily, dipped her head and sat back, catlike, although it was obvious from her demeanor she was holding back a grin.

“You’re filthy,” she commented, using a paw to brush him back into the water.

“Well, yeah. And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.” 

She left no room for questioning, dunking his head back under. As Quiet’s form faded momentarily away, she did chance a small chuckle at the sodden bird - perhaps it would serve to have this quaint little creature by her side, after all.

“Well, fair enough,” Quiet huffed. “I can’t exactly argue with a Princess.” 

Feathers strewn about in awkward places and plastered to his body, he did indeed look much more like a fledgling than a full grown bird. He reluctantly raised a taloned hand to request assistance; this she did with a brisk sweep of a paw. Quiet wretched as she swatted him from the watery depths.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I am what I am. Get used to it.”

It seemed that now the two of them had made it this far, things were much different than they had been; expanded, full of life where there only provided death. In the morning glow, it seemed that there was a small village to the left of the cabin, and a broader woodland path which spanned beyond.

Dear old Narrator’s going to hate this, Hero chuckled. Almost seems like we managed to create our own separate world.

Yes, Hunted replied, it does.

“Well, I think it’s safe to assume that the whole ‘world ender’ scenario was a shitshow take,” Quiet remarked, eyes closed in a gesture of warmth.

You really had to say it, didn’t you? Hunted chirped.

Come on, Hero chuckled, Someone did, and I knew it wasn’t going to be you.

“I think we’ve established that,” Beast murmured sullenly. “Now, do you want to waste time talking, or actually go somewhere?”

Quiet blinked. “You want me to come with you?”

“I could use a more interesting preything nearby,” Beast suggested, although her time indicated that wasn’t the whole of the dynamic. “Most of the creatures I come across are foolish and short-lived; you may be worth having around.”

“Is that your long-winded way of saying you’d like some company?”

“Don’t test me.”

But by all indications of her tone, the answer was likely yes.

“Alright, then. Where to?”

[sincerely-sofie]

The horrors of Slay the Princess have seeped so deeply into our bone marrow that we no longer register the terrifying things we say as terrifying, we all have a few screws loose here.

Going through old asks and forgot about this omen of a submission. Those of you who stare long into the StP fandom, beware, for it also stares back into you.

[mecchantheotaku]

Ooh, can you do that sickfic where Skeptic gets a coughing fit and Hunted helps him

Sorry for taking so long to get to this! Anyway, time for some more STP Voices Sickfics!

Note, this is non canon to my AU due to Drowned Grey being mentioned and that path not being part of my AU.

---

"Thanks for bringing me back here..."

As soon as he finished that, Skeptic burst into another coughing fit.

He'd been waiting outside for Quiet to return, but it started raining. Next thing he knew, hours had passed and he'd suffered from too much cold water hitting his body.

Luckily, Hunted was there and brought him back inside.

"That light coat of yours can protect you from mild cold, but it's useless against the rain. And the rain was far more than just mildly cold. You need shelter."

Hunted wrapped Skeptic up in a blanket after removing his coat and cardigan.

Skeptic took off his glasses. They were all smudged from the rain. He'd have to clean them later.

"It's okay. I learn from mistakes." Skeptic said, before coughing some more.

Hunted put a hand to Skeptic's forehead.

"You're burning up. You've been out there too long. I don't know how to treat this, so I'll go to the others for advice. You stay here."

Skeptic felt a little sheepish at being fussed over. He was not used to that. But if it meant he'd get better soon, he understood.

Little did he know, that was the last rational thought he'd have for a while.

---

Hunted came back with some medicine and soup packets.

"They suggested I stick to these for now and..."

Hunted stared at Skeptic in concern, seeing him sobbing and coughing more violently than before. The sobbing was particularly unusual, as he's not the sort of person that cries easily.

"Are you... alright?"

Hunted carefully approached Skeptic.

"Can't... get much breaths in... help..."

Skeptic could barely speak with how much he was coughing.

Hunted brought Skeptic back onto the sofa and gently checked his temperature again. It was hotter than before.

"You're not thinking clearly. Not with all that mess in you. You need to rest and recover. I have medicine and soup. That should help."

Skeptic grabbed Hunted's shirt with his shaking hands, his eyes begging for him to not leave him alone.

Hunted sat down next to Skeptic. It was painful seeing one of the most rational and level-headed of them reduced to this.

Skeptic began coughing again. It sounded painful, so Hunted bolted for the kitchen and got a glass of water for Skeptic to have with his medicine.

"This will do you good. I trust it will." Hunted assured Skeptic as he took the medicine.

---

After a while, the coughing became less intense and the fever went down a little. Skeptic could finally think again.

"Sorry about that..."

"It's alright. You weren't thinking clearly in that state."

Skeptic sighed, now that he could. He didn't want to have to open up to someone like this, but... he had to, didn't he?

"It's... not just that. Being in that state reminded me of... the time I drowned."

Hunted stared at Skeptic, and then grabbed his hand sympathetically.

"I'm... sorry that happened to you. Was it with a version of her? One I didn't see?"

Skeptic then felt more at ease. More like he could open up.

"Yes. It was. We failed to save that version, so she drowned us. Something about... sharing her pain. I understand why, but..."

Hunted pulled Skeptic into a gentle hug.

"But she still hurt you. You don't have to put up a wall right now. You don't have to just get over it. You can be vulnerable. We're safe now."

Skeptic let himself cry a bit more. He needed to at the moment.

"I'm not used to being safe."

"Neither am I. But I know that we are."

The heavy breathing from Skeptic's crying sent him back into another coughing fit.

"Easy. Don't overdo it. I'll make you some soup. That should help."

Hunted headed into the kitchen to make the soup.

Skeptic dried his tears. He didn't know when he'd be used to being safe, but it was reassuring to know he wasn't alone.

[magnetarbeam]

Voices of the Force: Incorrect Quotes 5

Ahsoka: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit.

---

Jaina: I literally cannot believe I let you talk me into this.

Ahsoka: I literally said “I have an idea,” and you just went along with it without question.

---

Zekk, trying to impress Jag: I re-initialized the entire command structure, retaining all programmed abilities but deleting the supplementary preference architecture.

Jaina: He turned it off and back on again.

---

*during a group project*

Vestara: *does 99% of the work*

Ben: *has no idea what’s going on*

Ahsoka: *says she’s gonna help but does not*

Fala: *disappears at the very beginning and doesn’t show up again until the very end*

---

Ahsoka, staring lovingly at Fala: I would die for you.

Fala, doing her own thing: Then perish.

---

Vestara: I am working on this whole Good Guy thing, but anyone who cuts me in line at Space Starbucks deserves to have their kneecaps shot out, okay?

---

Ahsoka: We’re playing Space Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Jag: Space Scrabble? Space Scrabble’s great.

Ahsoka: Not when you’re playing with Vestara, it’s not. She puts words like “ephemeral” and I put “dog.”

---

Jag: What’s your favorite color?

Vestara: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature.

Jag: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP?

Vestara: My favorite color is pink.

[shslquestionmark]

NO STPP STOP STOP STP PSROP COME BACK STARE AT ME

[alteredphoenix]

The Talon Trick (StP Card Games AU)(Chapter 1)[WIP]

A/N: So a lot of people seemed to really like this idea I came up with for an StP fic that I'd like to do if the inspiration struck me (featuring the Princesses playing card games in the Long Quiet to pass the time while waiting for the Hero to show up - which shocked me, because I wasn't expecting such a positive reaction), and that provided just enough motivation to write something out. This first chapter is just about done, but as I have a bad habit of leaving a multi-chaptered fic to the wayside shortly after losing steam this isn't something I'm ready to post on AO3 - at least not right away. (And I do feel bad about that, but it's something I've struggled with for years and trying to overcome.)

I think stockpiling a few chapters and then uploading them is a better idea (and probably a much better course of action for me to do in the long run), so have this little snippet for the time being while I force my brain to sit still long enough to finish the chapter and give it some polish.

-

The Princess slowly, heavily, drags herself up into a sitting position, strawberry blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in one big curtain. Her chest heaves, sucking in lost air. Absentmindedly, she reaches one hand up and feels for the tiara sitting neatly over her scalp. One pat, two pats, and she finds it.

Somehow, beyond all reason, it’s stayed on. She huffs quietly and tips it back upright from where it was all but hanging over the side of her head.

She spares a moment to stare at the floor, a grey several shades darker with hints of a color mixed between rain-washed stone and muddied brown – and shifting. She squints, frowning, and stares down harder, even blinking several times for good measure. But the scene doesn’t change; those are lines, cross-hatched and messy and sketchy, like the ones she recalled seeing on the basement floor and chipped into the walls, shift and shudder in every direction, both to her and away from her. Some of the patches even fade in and out of sight, reappearing further ahead into another patch of the floor that quickly assimilates into another network of jumping, dancing cross-hatching. A tentative brush of her left hand makes a rivulet of lining readjust and follow along the curve of her fingertips.

Brows knit, the Princess picks her head up and casts a slow, sweeping gaze around her. The area – the world – is grey tinted beige as far as the eye can see – and nothing else. They continue to shift and retract and connect down here as they did up in the air, one long, pervasive wall of cloud and fog without end. A sound like a breeze sighing through the leaves on the trees pricks teasingly at her ears. She turns her head one way and then the other, listening, straining; the sound travels with her, cloying and evasive.

Confusion wells in the pit of her stomach. “...Where am I?” she asks aloud.

“You are here, returned to me, where you belong.”

“Who--” she begins, turning back around, and jumps back, the gasp ripping right out of her.

A young woman stands, far away yet close and larger than life. She has the same blonde hair, the same pink dress that conforms to her slim, pale curves, the same silvery tiara upon her head. The same voice, the Princess notes belatedly, soft yet quietly monotone, and feels her mouth fall open. She swallows thickly, tears her mind away from the fact to gaze up and down at the woman’s body. All around her, from the top of her head to the sloping V of her navel, small hands attached to long, slender arms shifted and waved and flexed with a fluidity both stunted and natural, some grasping absently at the air. One hand drapes over her eyes. A pair of hands cover her breasts. Another pair wraps over her bony shoulders in a loose embrace, the same which a second pair cupped the pointed joints of her hips.

“What the….” the Princess begins, mouth and brain working. “Who are...What...are you…?”

“I am solitary lights in an empty city. Oceans reduced to shallow creeks. Trees without a forest. I am infinite.”

The Princess blinks. One slender eyebrow arches up. “…Huh?”

“I am you,” says the woman. “You are me. Pieces of a dream on the path to being whole. A fragile vessel.”

The Princess swallows again. “...I don’t understand.”

“You will, in time. But know that what I speak is the truth, and this truth will set us free.”

“Free,” the Princess echoes. “Free from, uh...what, exactly?”

“Here,” the woman says, and a dozen-dozen hands fan out behind her and gesture at the shifting, grey mass of clouds and sketch lines. “I have only just now wakened from these trappings of unconsciousness, but the answer remains all the same: there is no exit. The concept of an exit does not exist; not even the concept of time exists. It merely is. But I know there are worlds beyond the Long Quiet, worlds that can be reached, and there will come a time for when we will find them.”

“So,” the Princess begins, drawing the word out, tentative and venturing, “we’re stuck here. This, uh… This Long...Quiet.”

“We are.”

“But you just woke up.”

“I did.”

“Like, right now.”

“More or less.”

The Princess stares at her. Her other eyebrow rises. “...So how do you know there aren’t any exits if you just—“ She shakes her head. “You know what, never mind."

[foolondahill17]

The third night without sleep, Dean rolls himself a joint from Sam's stash out of pure desperation. He doesn’t exactly want to stink up his room, so he goes outside the Bunker, climbs the steep hill to the base of the abandoned water treatment plant, and takes a seat with his back against the brick wall.

The chill air bites his cheeks as he pulls in a mouthful of smoke, holds for a second, and releases it into the night air. It’s been a while since he’s smoked, maybe since Cassie or Lee, but even then it wasn’t often.

His very brief period of experimentation favored anything with a little more oomf – LSD, STP, PCP; he ran the gamut of most of the alphabet drugs, but that was when he went a little crazy while Sam was in school and Dad was off doing who the hell knows what. He never had much time or need for a downer like indica – and, when he did, whiskey was in high supply.

Dean’s head whips to the side when he hears the crunch of dried grass under foot, but the mussed top of Cas’s head appears over the hill, and Dean relaxes.

“Making sure I don’t run off again?” Dean asks, sticking the joint back between his lips.

“I just thought I’d enjoy the night,” Cas says, a little stilted, like he’s afraid Dean will poke fun at his nightly wandering.

“It ain’t half bad,” Dean agrees. It’s true. The sky is clear and it’s just cold enough to be refreshing rather than frigid. It smells like spring: all damp earth and new growth. “Want some?”

He holds the joint to Cas. Cas squints at it.

“Sam offered before. It didn’t have much effect on me.”

“People never get high the first time,” Dean says. “Come on. Puff, puff, pass, man.”

Cas takes the joint and sinks to the ground in a surprisingly fluid motion for how stiffly he normally carries himself. He crosses his legs on the ground, and Dean’s reminded of that other Cas, from Zachariah’s alternate future.

“Just don’t get into the habit,” Dean says gruffly.

Cas takes his own hit before passing the stick back to Dean.

“Drugs rarely have an effect on me, still,” Cas says. “Even alcohol.”

“You think it’s a good sign?” Dean prompts. “Maybe your grace is healing?”

“I’d like to think so,” Cas sighs. “Truthfully, I feel basically the same.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not even a year. Keep your head up, buddy.”

“What about you?” Cas asks.

“What?” Dean says, knowing exactly what Cas means.

“How are you feeling?” Cas clarifies.

“I’m fine,” Dean says.

“No, you’re not,” Cas says.

Dean can’t face the angel’s eyes. He lets his head fall against the wall behind him, staring at the sky. Lebanon ain’t exactly a metropolis, so there’s not much light pollution to speak of, but out here in the prairie it’s even clearer. The sky is inky black, speckled with stars like a flashlight shining through a metal colander.

“I don’t know, man,” Dean sighs. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Emma said you were with Benny,” Cas says. It’s enough of a non sequitur that Dean lifts his head.

“Um, yeah,” Dean says. “Down in New Orleans. He…let me crash for a few days.”

“You didn’t stay for long?” Cas asks.

“Not really,” Dean hedges. “Before that I was…around.”

"Yes," Cas says. There's a note of anger in his voice. Cas was always pretty good at the whole heavenly wrath thing. “With Crowley, apparently."

"Yeah because you've never palled around with demons before," Dean snaps. And shit. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his stomach sinks. He didn't want to argue.

"It's unfair of you to throw that in my face when I've - I've tried to atone for working with Crowley many times over," Cas says, voice strangely brittle.

Funny, but Dean hadn't even thought about Cas working with Crowley. He'd been thinking about Cas and Meg searching for the demon tablet in the Middle East.

"Sorry," Dean says. He swallows something barbed and sticky in his throat.

There's a beat of silence, then Cas breathes out hard.

Dean takes another pull from his joint. He hands it back to Cas, nudging his friend’s arm with his knuckles when Cas doesn’t immediately reach for it.

“You could have stayed,” Cas says. He’s staring unblinkingly across the shadowed field. “You didn’t have to go to Crowley. Or Benny.”

“I know,” Dean says. And he does. He does know. He doesn’t have the words to explain the cloying, claustrophobic fear that gripped him the first few weeks after brutalizing Randy and the others. His instability. The certainty with which he knew he’d hurt someone else. The inevitability of it. “I just needed to get away. Benny was – he’s a good friend. He helped me find solid footing again, I guess.”

“Just a friend?” Cas asks. “Or are you…in a relationship with him?”

Cas’s question echoes like a sonar ping through Dean’s ribcage.

“Did Emma tell you? Or Ben?”

“No,” Cas replies. “I think I…guessed in Purgatory. I’m not very good at understanding social interactions, but I could understand there was something between you two. And I knew you slept with men…since I reconstructed your very being, all of your history was revealed to me. Although I’d argue it didn’t gain emotional significance until later.”

“Emotional significance, huh?”

Cas replies with a half-smile. “Navigating the nuance of human emotion hasn’t exactly been easy.”

“Why do you ask?” Dean bluffs. “You jealous?”

It’s the first time they’ve even come close to vocalizing the magnetic, possessive pull toward one another, and Dean’s heartbeat thuds in his throat. No fucking way would he have the balls to confront this if the weed hadn’t made him so loose-tongued.

“I’m not jealous,” Cas says immediately, and Dean’s almost high enough to admit it’s disappointment he feels in the base of his gut. “I was just…curious.”

“We’re not,” Dean says. He sucks in another mouthful of smoke. “What about you and Meg? You guys hook up during your Raiders tour?”

Cas takes the joint. He waits until he’s blowing smoke before he says. “We did…once. I didn’t like it very much.”

“Yeah?” Dean says. He’s already prepared to jump to Cas’s defense if the demon pressured him into something he didn’t want to do.

“I think it’s because I’m gay.”

If Dean had been drinking, he would have done a spit take. “You’re, um. Oh – okay.” He tries to recover himself. “I didn’t think…way back when, Anna said angels didn’t feel things…like that.”

“I think we can both agree I’m far from an angel,” Cas says.

Dean doesn’t exactly know what to say to that. He finishes the joint and stubs out the ember against the brick.

“I should, ah, try to get some sleep,” he says. He’s felt awkward around Cas plenty of times, but never quite like this: there’s a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, like he said something wrong or missed his chance. He tells himself he’s being stupid.

“Oh,” Cas says. Is that disappointment in his voice, too? Or something else? “Goodnight, then.”

Dean stands to his feet. He closes his fist at his side before he can do something stupid, like pat Cas on the shoulder or, worse, put his hand in the angel’s hair.

“Night, Cas.”

Read more here

[writingdevil]

Hiiii! I saw that you were accepting prompts/requests for stp things OvO Do you think you could write something about cold and skeptic? It doesn't have to be romantic or anything just them interacting! Love your writing!!! :3

(Of course!I hope I got their dynamic right-Enjoy!)

Cold once again looked down at Skeptic,who had joined him on his walk this morning.

Cold usually wakes up incredibly early,to the point where the sun is only just about peeking out on the horizon.Not a lot of the others would be awake at this time,and if they were,they'd rather not be disturbed.This usually wouldn't deter Cold,but it was hard to interact with birds-who were either sleep deprived or trembling from nightmares-in an interesting way.So Cold had gotten into the habit of just wandering around the forest,walking until he felt like he had had enough.

Skeptic wasn't an uncommon bird to see at this hour,with thoughts too heavy to allow him sleep, and Cold would often see him mumbling to himself as he scribbled in a notebook.Cold normally didn't pay him any mind,but today-Skeptic had asked to join him.

It surprised him enough to be intrigued,and say yes.

He expected Skeptic to be chatty,to basically use Cold as a way to air out all that was mentally plaguing him like he normally would do.But he was actually silent.

Cold never had a problem with the silence most days-it gave his mind time to calm down and go back to that droning,dark state,and then Cold would try and feel something new again.

But it was hard to do that with Skeptic next to him, eying everything that passed with a sharp look,as if every leaf and rock in the place held some mystery or secret.

Cold turned to look ahead again as he asked,"Why did you want to walk with me?"

Skeptic blinked at him,as if only realising that Cold was with him,then shrugged and said,"I just wanted to get out of the house for a bit."

Cold hummed in response,then they fell into silence again,but Cold knew better.

Three,two,one-

"Why do you go on these walks every morning?" There it was.

Cold sighed,watching the cold air float in front of him."Because there's nothing else to do at this hour."

"How come your body always wakes up this early?"

"I don't know,"Cold casually said,then looked Skeptic in the eye ad he said,"Why can't you ever leave a theory until the next day?"

Skeptic almost tripped over his own feet at the question,but he managed to keep his balance while still glaring at Cold.After a few seconds,he said,"It's hard to leave a question unanswered,especially when I know I can figure it out."

Cold rolled his eyes."Why bother,though?Isn't the unknown more fun?"

Skeptic chuckled."Maybe for you it is,but some of us want to understand what's going on around us."

"How well has that been going for you,detective?" Cold was hoping that struck a nerve,to rile the other one up,but the only reaction he got was Skeptic staring up at him blankly.It was a little disappointing.

He kicked a rock,watching it fly off into the tall grass,just as Skeptic asked,"Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't care.You'll ask it anyways."

"Why do you do these things?"

Cold raised a brow,but continued to look straight ahead."What things?"

"Things that will make you feel something."

"You just answered your own question."

"No,I mean-"Skeptic sighed harshly,and Cold finally glanced down at him,noticing the exhaustion in his eyes,"-I mean why do you need to do these things in the first place?"

Cold shrugged."I can't help how I came to be in His head."Skeptic made a sound,slightly tilting his head from left to right in thought."I guess so,but don't you ever wonder why you feel so-so-"

"Numb?"Cold finished,and although Skeptic looked uncomfortable with the wording,he nodded.Cold sighed again,exhaling cold air right into Skeptic's face.He chuckled at the face he made,no doubt having questions about that as well.

"Wondering about it won't change it.It won't make me feel something,so it's not worth my time.If anything,I think I'm better off than the rest of you, not being weighed down by fears or duties."

"I know,you've made that clear in the past,"Skeptic quietly muttered,tracing his hand against a bush and its vibrant leaves as they passed by.

Neither of them spoke for quite a while,and the pink in the sky was beginning to fade.Cold noticed that they were at the point where they would loop back around to the house.Someone would definitely be awake by now,possibly Stubborn or Smitten.

Just as Cold was beginning to think that Skeptic wouldn't interest him anymore,he yawned and softly said,"It's quite nice out here."

Cold glanced back down at him,and Skeptic had a small smile on his face,usually sharp eyes now clouded over with something that Cold couldn't name right now.

"If we're being honest,"Skeptic said,"I didn't intend to join you just to question your motivation about who you were."If Cold didn't know any better,that sounded like an apology.Usually Skeptic's tunnel-vision way of thinking got in the way of seeing when he hurt someone's feelings,and then Smitten would have to gently explain it to him.

Not that Cold was offended.If anything,this was amusing.

Skeptic continued,rubbing a hand over his eyes,"I actually came out here to escape thinking for a little while."

"Really?"

"Yes.I was beginning to just get angry at myself,and I never know how to fix it,either the problem or my lack of sleep.But then I saw you going for your walk, and I thought that this might be what I'm missing-a moment of not thinking."

"A break,you mean,"Cold playfully pointed out, knowing that Skeptic hated having to stop and rest almost as much as Stubborn did.

Skeptic chuckled,and nodded."Yes.That."He sighed, and Cold just stared down at him,until Skeptic turned to look at him and quietly admitted,"You know-sometimes I envy you."

That actually made Cold stumble in his steps,but thankfully Skeptic said nothing of it,and Cold forced himself to keep moving as he stared down at Skeptic,wide-eyed.

Skeptic refused to look him in the eye as he said,"It must be so nice not to question every little thing,to not feel an itch for an answer.You just do whatever you want,just to see what'll happen,to see what's interesting,and not logical."

"It must be so calm in your mind,"Skeptic muttered, turning to look at the ground,but all Cold could focus on was what he had just admitted,and how surprised he was at it.

Calm wasn't the word Cold would personally used-but he did think that it was necessary against the others intense way of thinking.Although,he never thought that someone would envy the way he was.

He didn't know how to feel about it-and that made him want to learn more about it.

As the house grew closer,he made sure his tone was casual and uncaring as he said,"You're welcome to these walks anytime,you know."

He could hear the smile in Skeptic's voice as he softly replied,"Thank you,Cold."

[msfcatlover]

Fucking… been trying to type up a vent post for like 10min, but it always ends up sounding like I’m passive-aggressively shaming my followers when I just need to get out what happened in my life. Goddamn. Guess I’ll get fucking specific.

I tried RPing that Slay the Princess idea with my mom, and it went so horribly I now feel awful about the whole thing. I’m even more insecure about my inability to juggle characters, I feel even shakier about my grasp/portrayal of who the characters even are, and I just want to smash my whole computer in frustration. It’s not even her fault or anything, she just could not wrap her mind around the concept and also kept getting confused about what exactly was going on, and then got annoyed by the limitations of the structure. Like, I ask her to ask a question and she starts rambling off a summary of a whole conversation, and I’m like, “No, mom, one question. This is a conversation simulator, and I’m trying to work on my character voices. It’s a back & forth.” Cue flustered apologizing & an extended period of blank, silent staring.

I just. Fucking hell. Nothing kills motivation quite like a complete fucking trainwreck of an interaction on the topic.

I’m not even mad at her, I just feel like garbage. Like I’m a shit writer & a worse GM, and I should never have even tried this to start with.

To the one person who actually responded to my StP post: I’ll message you in the next couple days, once I have my excitement back.

To the handful of people who liked it: I appreciate the positivity, but I have no idea if you’re volunteering or just going, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea! Good on you!” and I don’t like to bother people out of the blue, so if you actually want to try this, can you please just tell me?

I’m gonna go cry in a pillow for a while. Fucking… I stayed up til 5am late night working on this. I thought this was a good idea. I was so excited.

I hate my fucking brain.

[starlitwinter]

VI

I... changed a lot of things in my fanfic, like the pov. Anyway, enjoy!

Oh, merde merde merde. A dog. Huan. Celegorm. What am I supposed to fucking do? Run? Stay still? Please Huan be alone in those freaking wood. Please!

As the dog growled softly, the fear in Nenlissë’s mind intensified. Her thoughts raced as she desperately hoped that the dog was alone in the woods, and not accompanied by Celegorm. The size of the dog was particularly alarming, its head even towering over the human girl’s shoulder. Despite her shock, she remembered not to stare at the animal, as it could be perceived as a sign of aggression. Slowly backing away, the girl kept the dog in her field of vision, mindful of any sudden movements. With luck, Nenlissë could reach Aclar and escape before the dog’s master arrived, or perhaps she would meet a much grimmer fate.

“Where do you think you’re going, intruder?” A voice said, stopping Nenlissë in her moves.

The shock of hearing a dog speak left Nenlissë frozen in place. She was certain that she had heard the dog’s voice, but the animal’s mouth remained shut. Was it a trick of the mind, or was this dog truly capable of speaking? As she stood there, unsure of what to do, the voice continued to speak. It seemed to be coming from the dog, but how was that even possible? The girl tried to shake off her disbelief and focus on what the dog was saying, hoping that it would provide some clarity or explanation for this surreal moment.

“Are you stupid or just deaf? What are you doing half on the floor?” the voice said again, and Nenlissë realized that no, it was not Huan who was talking but surely his owner. Celegorm.

Ah yes. Youpi. Celegorm. Couldn’t you wait to get here? So, I could get away from here? No? Nenlissë thought, annoyed by Celegorm’s apparition. She got up slowly without meeting Huan’s eyes and looked for the only possible human form in this forest. As she continued to look for Celegorm, a shiver ran through the girl, and she suddenly felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn around, her back was already crashing against the nearest trunk, and she could only look up at the angelic face of Celegorm. Damn it hurts! I am not made of steel shit! She almost said, but swallowed her words, not wanting to upset Celegorm, as he had the upper hand. But Nenlissë still spoke without thinking about her words, which resulted in something like this.

“What’s wrong with throwing people on wood like that? I could have broken something! And then get out of the way stp. Don’t you know about living space? Coronavirus? Ah yes, you didn’t get it here… lucky bastard.”

Celegorm reaction was to put his arm on the girl’s throat and press gently but firmly anyway to warn her that he could crush her breathing voice at any moment. Nenlissë gave him her best hypocritical smile while staring at his face. She was relieved of these perfect elf faces. The fact of seeing the angelic face of her attacker calmed her and she succeeded in countering the wave of stress that was rising in her.

“Speak better intruder, don’t you know who I am?” Celegorm ordered harshly.

Nenlissë rolled her eyes. Of course, I know who you are, espèce de caca! Who do you think I am? She thought while scoffing. But she decided to not say anything because if she told him that she knows him, that she knows his future too, it was like she was offering him reasons on a silver plate to kill her on the spot. She might as well play dumb and survive than try to be Ms. Know-it-all and show it.

“Uh, no? And I should know? All I see here is an arrogant guy.

-Arrogant me? Have you never heard of Celegorm, son of Fëanor, son of Finwë? The best of them all? And who are you anyway? What family do you come from?

-Never heard of a Celegrom or Celegorm. And for your information, know that I am the daughter of a rich and powerful lord.”

Your uncle. But you do not need to know that now.

“Your name? Celegorm then asked.

-Nenlissë.

-What are you doing in these woods?

-I was… walking? Are we not allowed to do that now?”

He raised an eyebrow and despite looking at her suspiciously, he released her from his arm on her throat and walked away from her. Thank you for giving me back my breathing space Celegorm. Now adieu. As she tried to run away, Celegorm took her arm, bringing her close to his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going? You are on my uncle’s land and so you must be taken to his dwelling so I can know if you are telling the truth.”

-What? I refuse-

-Oh, it would be such a shame if I unintentionally allowed Huan to eat your arm. Or your leg. After all, he has not eaten anything and must be hungry.”

Celegorm placed a hand on the top of his doggie’s head. Huan decided to show Nenlissë his fangs which only made Nenlissë want to run away more. Seriously Huan! I thought you were nice and all. It is just for Luthien but not me being nice. Thanks!

“Listen, I don’t want to argue with you about the usefulness of arresting me for almost nothing so I’m going to come in very nicely and you won’t have to threaten me with anything okay?” Nenlissë said, trying to make peace with Celegorm and save her life.

He did not answer her, but a big smile formed on his lips, and he waved her past him. Nenlissë answered him by rolling her eyes and emitting a small whistle between her teeth. Aclar joined them and Celegorm did not comment on his arrival. The girl took his bridle in her hands and turned to Celegorm.

“Which way to your uncle’s castle? She asked innocently.

-To not know and live in this area, you must live in a cave all year round…”

He huffed and took the lead but left Huan to close the gap. What were you thinking? I am going to savour my ‘revenge’ when you finally know who I am. Your cousin.

“Follow me.”

~

The journey was quick and quiet and soon they could start to see the front of Arafinwë’s mansion, the few people they passed looked at them strangely but none of them made any comment. Celegorm abruptly opened the door and grabbed Nenlissë’s sleeve to pull her into the dining room where everyone was still there. As he entered, Arafinwë stood up and stopped whatever move he was going to make when he saw the situation his adopted daughter was in. She met his gaze and a wide smile played on his lips, instinctively understanding the situation.

“Good morning my dear nephew, we have been waiting for you. Arafinwë said slyly, but Celegorm didn’t see anything.

-Hello uncle, I am glad to see you and I see my aunt has already arrived. How are you?

-For the best, but… Why does Nenlissë seem to be your prisoner?

-You know this wanderer, Uncle? I caught her on your land, and she had no permission so I thought I should inform you of this.”

Behind Arafinwë, Nenlissë saw Angrod choke on his glass of water and burst out laughing. Celegorm glanced at him in puzzlement but did not seem to question the amused smiles on everyone’s faces. Arafinwë approached his nephew and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Turco, Nenlissë is my daughter. Adoptive, perhaps, but my daughter.”

Celegorm turned to look the girl in the eye. She gave him a contrite smile and shrugged.

“Your daughter? My cousin? Wait, what?”

-Yes. Your cousin.”

Nenlissë moved away from him and wanted to sit at the table, but Arafinwë stopped her.

“Don’t sit down Nenlissë, we had all finished and I had just suggested we go outside to play a little game. "

Oula… a little game with Arafinwë is never a game. She saw Artanis roll her eyes behind her father before coming to take her sister’s hand. How will he make us suffer today? Nenlissë thought while posing a questioning gaze on her father who only responded with an enigmatic smile. When they arrived outside, their horses were waiting for them, along with their bows, and a bag was lying on the ground next to the horses. Nenlissë could feel the shit coming already.

Arafinwë went to his stallion and stroked his muzzle before turning to them.

“This morning when I got up, I learned that my dear nephew, son of Fëanor, was coming. So, I thought it would be a good idea to set us a little challenge to see if my children are stronger, more skilled, and clever than my half-brother’s.”

I have a bad feeling about this… Nenlissë thought while nervously biting her nails.

“So, I’m going to give you a little survival challenge! In teams of two, you will have to spend a whole night in the forest without my men finding you! My sister, Findis, will draw the teams at random.”

Findis approached her brother with a box in her hand and pulled out the first paper.

“Ambo and… Artanis!” She exclaimed.

Disappointed not to be with her dear Galadriel, Nenlissë signed while her brother and sister exchanged a knowing look, an omen of bad things. Maybe being with Finrod will be beneficial and I will have less chance to die… Angrod can be an excellent choice too. Anything but Celegorm because I want to stay alive a little longer. The girl thought, judging her chances to win.

Findis put her hand back in the box and Nenlissë crossed her fingers, praying that someone would answer her call and not put her with Celegorm.

“Nenlissë and…”

Each second seemed like hours, the girl saw Findis’ hand move in slow motion… Nah I am kidding. The rest happened at normal speed.

“Celegorm!”

Damn it! Eru fuck you!

[sapphicslaylist]

[STP] On Borrowed Paths Chapter 3: An Awkward Meat-Cute

Prev Next

An arrival at the cabin reveals a cryptic sight which chills more than just the spirit - and what lies in the kitchen is enough to ruin an appetite.

(Spectre chapter woo woooo)

Mentioned past character death because of Spectre

There was an uneasy tension which spread by the front door as the silence filled the cabin steps. The homeowner’s talons extended nervously, feathers prickling upward with anxiety. He watched the pair of Borrowers with a sense of unease and forced grace; clearly, the word “chivalry” was not something he was accustomed to if this was an indicative example.

“Well, yes,” Hunted replied, lowering his ears. “But right now, the more important part was getting away from the Raven. Then we could discuss the details once we were here.”

Both sisters watched the homeowner in a mix of distrust and spellbound horror. Witch grasped for a blade by the belt strapped across her waist, never breaking eye contact; a single hand cautioned her against it, withdrawing with only a twitch of reluctance. Beast’s own gaze narrowed, but knew better than to act now while the threat was passive. Especially not while Hunted kept his watch behind her, passively watching with an aura of ease. He knew better than to send them anywhere unsafe.

“The details?” Witch scoffed. “That is three ravens stacked on top of each other. The beak matches. The talons match. I’m not going in there. Forget it.”

There was a huff as she straightened her back, crossing her arms against her chest. Thorn still hadn’t moved an inch from where she stood, watching him with a timid sort of curiosity. The gesture seemed genuine, but Witch was right; being stared at by yet another beastly visage was not exactly appealing.

He seemed lost, as though trying to speak and his voice was missing. The other hand brushed against the back of his neck almost bashfully, closing his eyes. The gesture was in earnest. Was he mute, or too stunned to speak?

Thorn didn’t have much more time to question it. Another creature made his approach, as often happened in the forest’s haunt - a blur of black, white, and red who merely scampered in the front door from the bushes, not waiting for an invite. Beast situated herself to pounce, although relaxed as it seemed to approach this new fellow instead.

“Mmh. Apologies for my late entrance; I had to make sure I picked the proper- oh, no no no! Quiet, good fellow, we talked about this.” This new soul - a well-groomed badger - immediately went for the cryptid’s hand, nipping it into place. “Talons down. Down. You want to be a proper ladykiller, not a brute. Suave, and earnest.” From there, the badger thrust a rose into his hand, giving an irritated huff. 

“Present your beloved with a gift.”

Well, that was certainly an entrance. 

“Um…”

There was an awkward silence which spread over the room. This awkward gentleman - Quiet - looked over the badger with a shake of his head.

“Smitten, this is really not the time-“

“Nonsense! A lovely maiden shows up on your doorstep and you don’t have the grace to greet her?”

“They’re here for shelter, not… Courtship.” Quiet gave an apologetic look down, indicating this had not been part of his plan. Thorn nodded, confirming there was no offense taken. The wildlife on their side tended to be rather, well, intense. Matchmakers in particular were known for taking every opportunity that was presented, appropriate timing or not.

But the badger was hardly listening. His eyes redirected to Thorn’s side, noticing the younger borrower snickering at the strange creature and his antics. Parental delight in his eyes sparked this time, tenfold.

“Oh, heavens! No one told me there would be this darling little angel here as well-“

Witch pointed the blade in his direction, giving a growl.

“Watch it.”

Smitten scooted back, although the eager grin on his face never left. His demeanor shifted to something much more chivalrous.

“In due time, of course. Your age certainly hasn’t impacted your abilities. I presume the lot of you are tired from that egregious hike -“

The badger dipped his head in respect to the others, noticing Beast.

“Been a while since we’ve seen another chimera. I presume you’ll be in for a nice surprise.”

Quiet softly brushed the badger aside.

“I’m presuming they’ll want in, before the owls start arriving.”

“Says the raven,” Witch scowled.

Thorn took her hand, feeling the rapid pulse against bristling hairs. No words were needed, although the flattening of her ears indicated it wasn’t what Witch wanted to hear.

Didn’t matter. Staying alive was more important than whatever innate grudges Witch had at the moment. And while the unease was mutual, there wasn’t the same immediate desire to throw him off as a threat which permeated every aspect of Witch’s temperament.

That didn’t mean that Thorn intended to be getting anywhere close enough to confirm or deny those suspicions, of course. Watching from a distance would be good enough.

At least, whatever distance they could logistically make for the time being.

Quiet;s hand shifted towards the handle. The lock clicked slowly. “Well, um, welcome in. I hope that things are at the very least up to code for the pair of you here.”

The door creaked open, revealing what to the small borrowers was a much larger establishment than the outside let on. It seemed that once the cabin opened fully, it was homey; a sparse amount of furniture laid in the corners of the front room, draped in regal red cloth. The front door held a wooden table, where perched on its edge was a polished hunting knife not unlike Thorn’s own. Whether the blacksmith was the same, however, was unlikely; after all, it would be peculiar if the one made for the black market arenas wasn’t someone more familiar with borrowers. And this fellow - Quiet - seemed a little less than familiar by the way he shuffled awkwardly, several pairs of wings tucked behind his back.

There were an assortment of different climbing spaces that would come in handy, as they walked in behind him; the badger seemed to have courteously closed the door behind them, but brushed enough debris aside in case they decided that leaving unannounced was the better option. So this suave fellow was more used to their kind than the hulking corvid - whether that was assuring or not, Thorn wasn’t entirely certain as the plucky mustelid took his place beside her, giving a soft chuckle.

“Forgive the old fellow,” he purred, giving a twitch of his ears. “He’s hardly got a soul to talk to of your kind in some time. But, of course, we’ve made sure that he knows the rules. Hiding spots, plenty of climbing room, the tunnels all intact from the last resident -“

Thorn bristled.

“- The last resident?”

There was a flicker of electricity as a chandelier buzzed from above. Just how fancy was this cabin? It almost felt more like a haunted mansion from within. And then -

Witch gave a shudder, pulling her tail around her like a scarf. The goosebumps spread to Thorn’s skin as well, feeling the prick of a chill.

“Um… Why is is so cold?”

“Oh. That would be her. Spectre! We have company.”

“Oh, I know.” The voice that followed was chilling and ethereal, echoes overlapping upon each other throughout the house.

Smitten flattened his ears, gesturing to the pair of Borrowers next to him.

“…. Live company.”

There wasn’t a response. The chill began to grow in a singular spot, followed by a ghostly echo. Both Borrower’s ears pricked.

“This place is haunted?”

There was a sense of curiosity in Witch’s voice, tilting her head. The spectral trail was surprisingly easy to follow, hinting at a scent of rot and…. Produce. Hmm. That wasn’t a reassuring combination.

“It’s a long story,” Quiet muttered, notably stiffening with unease. The slight twinge of fear seemed to radiate off of him - something which Thorn seemed to catch onto immediately. However, her attention was diverted by the back and forth twitch of a tail in front of her, setting up its next move.

Okay, maybe Witch had a point. With the way things were going, it was probably easier to wind up explaining things a little more… Subtly. The fear was suspicious.

A small tap to the back of her little sister’s back got her attention immediately.

“Hey! What?”

Thorn stiffened. A simple tilt of the head indicated towards the bird leading forward, then a subtle sniff in the air. The subtle bend of her tail flicked inquisitively.

You smell it too?

Witch nodded, giving a roll of her eyes over to the bird and badger.

“To be clear for later,” Quiet sighed,  “you do not have to woo every creature that shows up on our doorstep. Just let me explain everything; it’ll be much easier if I do. Spectre’s… Fickle.”

“Oh, I know that. But you may want company when you do. Or need I remind you how many other damsels have gotten quite a chill upon the sight of her?” Smitten huffed, giving a shake of his head. “Besides, I’m sure a good discussion with her would’ve more than welcomed that handsome devil Mothman into your abode -“

The sisters exchanged apprehensive looks.

Something’s off, Thorn indicated with a twitch of an eye, looking over from Quiet to her sister. Seemed that Witch had likewise picked up on it, spinning one finger by her forehead in a circle. Another sniff at the air.

Yeah, I know they’re avoiding explanation. What do you want to do about it?

A small head tilt; the place it was coming from was clear. And the uneasiness which followed upon recognizing that distinctive place was, in fact, the kitchen wasn’t necessarily a settling sign, especially when it seemed that Witch was already getting ready to pounce.

But of course, going towards that direction wasn’t the best idea before determining the figure’s intentions. Were they a vengeful spirit, based on the way that their host spoke of her? Or merely just, well, challenging to deal with?

“You should bring them here,” echoed the phantom, giving another flicker of the lights. The darkness shrouded the environment for a brief moment, followed by a shake of Quiet’s head. “That way I can get a better introduction.”

“It would be easier with the lights.”

“Would it? They seem to be navigating just fine without. Your guests seem… Wild; curious. I’d like to meet them.”

A genuine, soft chuckle emanated around the space as Witch had already begun her path towards the kitchen. Seems that some things never changed, and even despite the circumstances, it was nice seeing that childhood wonder return to Witch’s eyes opposed to bloodlust. If things worked out, perhaps this could be a friend opposed to the usual foe…

That was, of course, presuming this was a mischievous ghost with good intentions. Thorn knew better than to let her sister wind up taking too much of the lead, scampering forward.

“I told you this would happen,” Smitten huffed, giving a tilt of his head. “Well, you know what they say. Ladies first, after all - and I think they have the right idea. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get the new residents something to eat after being on their way so long? You would scarcely want to be a bad host.”

The pointed way the badger stared up at the avian indicated that he was in on this charade, too. Whether it was for the purpose of lessening some kind of impending blow or else to cover up for him was unsure, but judging by the uneasy reluctance in which he followed, it seemed that the badger was decidedly on their side opposed to his. But either way, it was better to get things over with; a hostile phantom wouldn’t let them leave unscathed, and a playful one was, honestly, more welcome company than not.

The issue would be keeping up with Witch as she managed to get the leading ground. While Thorn was definitely not the slowest of her kind, very few rivaled the exact precision that the smaller Borrower had when it came to decisive maneuvers. Just as skilled on two feet as four, it gave the wilder of the siblings the upper hand to gain more ground as she wove and darted across the tile flooring towards the familiar kitchen scene - or at least, familiar if you were a common house borrower. The “domestic” front was frankly pretty strange to the majority of them, with its heightened countertops and sparse climbing room except for tall steel handles on rugged drawers. Judging by how clean they were, the only thing that had pierced them was the occasional fish hook or barbed implement; this seemed like it had indeed been a domestic resident’s old haunt.

But that didn't discourage Witch. Her claws were hardy and angled deep into the unpolished wood, tearing at splinters in the drawers as she scampered up in alignment with the scent. It seemed that for a moment, Thorn mostly held back; her whirlwind of a sister was on the trail, to the ghostly reek of a prior death long gone. “Phantom Trail,” so they called it; it took a Fae familiar with death’s grasp to discriminate the scent from a fresher kill. But judging by every little twitch of Witch’s nose, she was even more determined to find it first.

“Awfully scrappy, that little darling.”

The chuckle behind Thorn made her jump, before realizing it was just the badger watching with a familiar eye of parental admiration. “Daresay, it’s a good thing that someone’s watching out for her. Would you like a lift? I know the whole ‘household madness’ can be a rather unbecoming sight.”

This creature was surprisingly gentlemanly now, with the twinkle in his eye as he lifted a paw, claws turned away. At least someone in this house knew how to treat Borrowers.

“I think I’ll take you up on that, actually,” Thorn responded, giving a thankful nod as she stepped on. “Appreciated.”

The badger had already stepped forward and deposited his guest onto the countertop with a wistful sigh by the time the less-than-adept host finally made it into the room (at least someone had manners, and it wasn’t him). By this time, Witch had tracked the trail over to the fridge, nose twitching with confusion and uncertainty.

“It ends… Here? That’s… Huh.” However, the look of mild concern indicated that she did, and didn’t want to consider it an option.

Turning back to Thorn, Witch gave a tilt of her head, shaking it sadly. Something luminous seemed to rise out from within the shadows.

“That’s where the trail stops - I can always check agai -!!!”

Leaping back on all fours, Witch’s back arched like a cat, feeling her tail puff up from base to tip. Gradually, it seemed the figure rose bit by bit; pale, ghastly, with hollowed sockets and a skeletal grin of amusement. Stumbling back to to her feet, however, the desire to reach for her own dagger faded as Witch processed the exact size of this ghost before them - and, rather, the way in which she hovered before her, watching with an air of curiosity and nothing more.

“… Oh. I guess we found the ‘last borrower.’”

The tail twitch grew softer. The gentle, softened curiosity began to stir as Witch approached; it seemed it took a ghost to rouse that old childlike wonder, one Thorn sometimes questioned still existing. But as the soft approach on careful steps continued, sauntering forward with that same awe and delight as Witch carefully picked up the tails of her dress to step forward, it was undeniable.

Okay. Maybe arriving at this corvid’s house wasn’t a complete mistake.

“It’s been ages since we’ve seen anyone free-roaming,” Witch managed, giving a twitch of her nose in greeting. A careful hand reached out, expecting to grasp more than air. For a moment, Thorn suppressed a chuckle; that was the first rule of phantasmic beings, and it was humorous to watch how foolish fascination had broken it. “Domestic, too…”

It startled Thorn slightly as the figure reached out and extended her own hand to Witch’s, managing to actually grasp it. A shiver ran along Witch’s spine as the gesture was returned, giving a sniff along her neck as the spirit giggled. Clearly, neither of these two was used to any company - let alone ones from such opposing roots.

“You’re different from the others,” the phantom commented, brushing her thumb over the top of Witch’s hand. “Hardly even surprised.”

“Oh, I knew about all of this ghost business,” Witch huffed, offended at the mere suggestion of disbelief. “Just never been close enough in the aftermath to see any.” Or perhaps never close enough to death herself beforehand, if the legends were true. The blinding grasp of fear usually struck too deep for others to get a proper reading.

From the looks of it, Quiet knew better than to interrupt this sacred little greeting. Thorn watched him cautiously out of the corner of her eye, but relaxed as he said and did nothing, merely standing back with the curious badger as they exchanged glances.

“She just wanted company,” Smitten reminded, raising a brow. “Your Beloved tends to want the first say about her roommates - and from the look of it, she rather approves.” Looking back over, the badger gave a look of surprise as the child stepped forward. 

“Well, I’ll be. This may actually be good for both of them.”

There was a shift of Witch’s eyes, scrunching up her eyes as she looked over at the bird in the corner distrustingly. The teen leaned in closer, giving a more pointed sniff along the phantom’s neck. Same scent, same exact untimely end.

The distrusting perplexion grew. No; that couldn’t be right.

Thankfully, even without the company of many Fae, it was clear enough to the spectral figure what Witch was doing. Following scents was a wild borrower’s way of picking up on common threads in life and death, so this would take a more direct approach. 

“I’m sure it’s much harder to decipher from here. May I show you instead?”

There was a tentative look in Witch’s eye, momentarily shrinking back. Her gaze flitted from her sister’s nervous gaze, then to Quiet’s with an ounce of spite. Seeing that there was no attempt to advance without permission, however, she stepped forward again with a nod. Only then did it seem the haunting figure approached, hovering at eye level.

Hopefully this wouldn’t be taken in spite.

Carefully, the phantom placed a fingertip against the messy, almost nonexistent part of the wild borrower’s hair. Inquisitively, Witch raised a brow, but didn’t protest. It seemed that the lean of trust was strangely natural between the pair of them; her scent was one of one of a kinder soul, and not a plotting opponent out for revenge. Acquiescence in her presence made sense, giving a dip of her head. The chill lingered as it circled her, digging carefully against the nerves of her scalp. This spirit was searching for something, no doubt - a connection point, a trail of thought. Most likely, a way into her head if Witch could guess. And while she could feel the concern of Thorn looking on, the same nerves for once did not concern this bloodthirsty little pipsqueak.

There was some sort of signal that kept coming and going in waves, but it wasn’t strong enough except for a weak static that made everything feel a little dizzying. So that was correct, then; it was a check up on which neural receptors would “take” in order to send the visual. One by one they seemed to fire up and shut off, getting closer the more were tested.

This amount of vulnerability was, admittedly, strange for the teen; especially when the end result required a bit of telepathy at its source. Usually, no one except for Thorn even got to lay a hand on her, so permitting a complete stranger to scratch along the mess of twigs in her locks and weave a hand through her hair was pretty alien. But something about her liked it, giving a soft purr as the ghost searched for… Something a little more grounded than stray synapses. Could this ghost just reach in if she wanted to?

Could, probably. Would, it was a clear no. Borrowers were used to helping each other out, and that included those who had passed on. The inclusion of “Hi, ghost!” and “why ghost?” usually went together pretty solidly -

So this is what it’s like in your head. I suppose that’s one way of putting it, besides simply “warning the living.”

It took all of Witch’s energy not to jolt back as the comment echoed back straight at her. Okay, that answered the question.

Oh, sorry. Too direct?

No, perfectly acceptable. Regardless -

The hand remained where it was, although the sting of coldness had numbed its way through by now. Let’s see if I can still do this from mostly out here; I just need one more thing to get that signal sent. Bear with me.

Something new seemed to have taken hold as the other hand grasped Witch’s, tracing along the scars from the gladiatorial victory. Near-death wounds, or places of revival; Death’s Echoes, as ghosts called them. Witch squinted her eyes shut, twitching along with every touch. The vision was becoming clearer. As the chilled finger traced the talon marks from Witch’s arm down to the hand that had touched dying blood -

“Witch? What is she -?!”

The sentence never finished as the images came through in a swift, steady blur. Bright lights swallowed up into nothing, the frigid cold, the infinitesimal dagger -

“NO!”

Eyes snapped open. She didn’t even need to think as blade found its place all too easily in a maddened teen’s claws, giving a thick slice against the chilled air before her. The spirit leapt back, becoming incorporeal once more a few paces back. All tactile connections abated, looking over Witch apologetically.

Oh. That was right. Bristling, growling fury returned to an apologetic look back, realizing her mistake as Witch slowly lowered her own weapon. A hand tentatively reached out to offer her own apology - but it seemed another one behind her was faster, offering a much bolder hiss from behind.

“Get back.”

The hand settled upon Witch’s own was familiar, feeling the bristling fur against those palms as they pulled her closer.

“It’s not her fault, it’s -“

“I don’t know what that was, but it’s not happening again. Get behind me.”

Witch shook her head. A harmless weave of vines snuck their way around Thorn’s wrists, wriggling out of her grasp. 

“Um, what’s going on over there?”

The nervous question echoed from over in the corner of the room, where Quiet stood to watch the chaos between the borrowers unfold. Smitten merely shook his head, placing a paw to his forehead.

“I think you and I both know what’s happening, good fellow. Brush up on that little speech of yours; here we go again.”

As Witch stepped out to face her incredulous sister, she gave her a twitch of her tail; raised up, all of the tuft bristling into a single blade. Her hand turned it towards the counter’s edge, glaring.

Thorn lowered hers into the same motion, shaking her head vigorously.

No, you are not going to stab him! What are you thinking?

“It’s not her who’s the issue here. Did you really think he would just take us in without another intention in mind? Fool, fool, fool! He’s been plotting something since the very beginning.” A wicked smile spread danced across Witch’s lips, much as the dagger of Beast’s fang did across her fingers. “And we are no strangers to dealing with filth like him.”

Quiet looked over at the shifting phantom, who looked over at him curiously.

“Spectre? What exactly did you tell her?”

“She asked how I got like this, so I showed her,” the ghost responded, placing a finger to her temple innocently. “If I remember correctly, this all is your fault in technicality, Killer.”

Thorn took a brisk step back. The brambles from Witch’s hex snapped off.

“I’m sorry… Go back just a minute -“

“No, you heard me right.”

Smitten sighed. “Quiet, at least this time explain yourself for once-“

“This isn’t the first time you’ve lured Borrowers here, is it?” The truth began to dawn on Thorn as well, reaching for her own blade. “Okay, change of plan. Witch, get back. You’re not doing any stabbing.”

The growl of disappointment was immeasurable.

“ I am.”

A chirp of approval in its place.

There was a swish of metal as the eldest drew her own blade, still coated in the adder’s sheen. Witch was right. There was an upper edge in adding a bit of a biohazard to otherwise minuscule weapons.

The pathetic bird’s feathers drooped in defeat, lifting his hands up almost in surrender. Was he actually giving in to their display?

“Spectre, can you at least elaborate further? This is a lot more complicated than all of that.”

“Hmm… I might. Depends on how badly you land this. And how much they actually want to stab you. I suspect they’ll calm down once you elaborate.”

There was a fixated gaze on him as this ghost, Spectre - did she really just go by ‘Spectre?’ - looked on Almost tauntingly at her murderer. For what Thorn could tell, he deserved it. Her nerves were steeled alongside her sister.

“Okay, I’ll try.” Quiet shrank back, clearing his throat. “Let’s just say this whole thing was a bit of an accident. Not that it makes it any better, but-“

“Faster, Wretch.” Witch flicked the blade, deepening the snarl in her throat. Even for a young, tiny thing, she was intimidating; hardy as a trained soldier. “Why don’t you just spit it out?”

“Well, um, okay. To begin with, this was before I knew much about the existence of your kind. Let alone that I actually had anyone in the house-“

“Just say it. Or better yet, open the fridge.”

“The… Fridge?”

The realization of Witch’s statement seemed to fall twice as hard on the eldest. For while the youngest remained steeled and prepared to cut a decisive blow, Thorn frankly seemed ready to vomit on the spot.

There was a sigh from Spectre.

“And yet you always worry that I’ll frighten off the newcomers, Killer.” 

A disapproving shake of Spectre’s head indicated, well… Disappointment over anger as she turned to circle Quiet instead, hovering just a few inches above his face. And the look given back was almost familiar as he grimaced, averting his gaze as though being scolded.

“It doesn’t help when you just throw the whole ‘left to die in the fridge’ thing like it was deliberate,” he muttered, feathers bristling. “You really amp it up a lot more than it needs to be.”

The exchange was uncomfortably familiarized, almost as if these two were allies opposed to enemies. While Witch’s gaze still filled with venom and vitriol, Thorn was distanced enough to notice the familiarized banter for what it was, lowering her own blade.

“… Okay. A lot of questions -“

Both Quiet and Spectre turned towards the pair of Borrowers, tilting their heads.

“Yeah, okay,” Quiet managed, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not as adversarial as it looks.”

“Explain it to them, not to me,” Spectre reminded, hovering over his head with a coy smirk. “We really need to work on your introductions.”

“Okay, yes. There’s a Borrower in the fridge.”

Placing a palm to his forehead, Quiet opened the door. The frosty embrace illuminated with the same sickening static as the hovering figure, and the sparse array of vegetables and butchered meat gave way to something more horrendous.

From the looks of it, that body had been there a long time with how completely frozen stiff and near-cryogenic the layers of ice had wrapped around it. But it didn’t make it any easier to process as the startled gasp came out of one borrower; a bitter chuckle from the other.

“You really thought you could fool us, didn’t you?” The fear was still trailing from Witch even as she spoke, hiding it behind her bold words. “You have another thing coming if you expect us to wind up as your leftovers.”

“That’s… Not what happened. I didn’t see her.”

“I went in to grab something, and never had the chance to come out,” Spectre added in almost complete nonchalance. “After a few minutes of trying to find a way out, it wasn’t worth waiting out the inevitable. So I took matters into my own hands.”

As Spectre spoke, the deep slash marks across her chest became more apparent. Thorn recoiled slightly, placing a hand where she felt her own stirring deep within.

Maybe they did have some things in common. It seemed that Spectre had noticed the very moment they stepped into the cabin, as if reading it off from aura alone.

“So then, the body-“

“I asked him to leave it in case someone else tried to get in. A warning, you might say. An omen if you prefer.”

“In case that wasn’t obvious by everything said, the fridge is off limits,” Quiet managed, grimacing. “Ask me if you need anything out of there.”

“Noted. Witch?”

Witch proceeded to stare daggers at Quiet the entire time, although even she had begun to soften her gaze as the conversation progressed. Her grip loosened, begrudgingly sheathing the weapon back into her belt with a tilt of her head.

“Then there’d better be food left out throughout this kitchen. We can provide for ourselves, and prefer to do so. We will not be left to demand it every time like pets or livestock.”

“I’d recommend leaving the pantry accessible; desperate beings will resort to desperate measures. We’d rather not have a repeat, right?”

The almost teasing way in which Spectre hovered and flirted around her inadvertent killer was, well, intriguing to watch. Even despite the nerves which still stirred innately deep within, it wasn’t hard for Thorn to see who, precisely, held the cards in their relationship as she placed a finger along the bird’s beak.

Fascinating. So this was a place in which the Borrower was in control? Even Witch seemed to have noticed, despite the aura of hate.

“Why don’t you set things out and I’ll get them settled? You’re not supposed to know about the passages, and I imagine they’d like to move in undisturbed.”

“If you think that’s best.”

Without a note of hesitation, Quiet acquiescenced, giving a shuffle of his wings as he stepped out of the room. The badger followed, giving them a curt nod as he stepped out.

“Your companion should be in shortly with your belongings. She’s been checking the parameters to confirm no sign of that pesky scavenger in the vicinity, and I’ll be sure to let her in once she’s satisfied. In the meantime, do let me know if there’s anything I can get you all. I live to entertain the ladies of the house, after all.”

“Appreciated. Thank you.”

Giving a soft trill, the badger followed the warmer body in the house, leaving the borrowers to talk amidst themselves. The darkness and cooling chill in the house had been a fairly immediate adjustment to the pair of sisters, finally dropping their guard once sight and scent of Quiet left their senses.

“Apologies for the scare,” Spectre finally hummed, shifting somewhere between the pair of them. “I have been over this with him, but it doesn’t stick.”

“That’s not your fault,” Thorn shrugged, giving a flick of her tail. “It sounds like he’s quite a hassle to deal with. But not dangerous?”

“Not deliberately,” Spectre replied. “He means no harm. But for those who do not live in our shadows, it can be hard to understand that every movement holds an entirely different velocity.” There was an air of intrigue as Spectre trailed over the inquisitive newcomer, her gaze tilting downward as she approached. “Although I’m rather surprised it’s him who bothers you the most.”

“Why wouldn’t it? You’re passively existing while he-“

“Knows his place.”

There was an alarming enthusiasm as Witch tilted her head, but the spark in her eyes was that of mischief over bloodlust. That was not a good sign.

“… Okay, no. We are not doing this again.”

“He understands how this works,” Witch insisted. “The wretch is clumsy and uncoordinated, but he knows better than to mess with something that can come back and haunt him. He’s scared of us.”

“I really don’t think that’s-“

“If it isn’t, then I’ll make it. There has to be some way. He wouldn’t just bow down like that if there wasn’t a reason.”

Thorn and Spectre exchanged glances; that “reason” likely wasn’t fear, and had a pretty obvious inclination by the way they interacted. There wasn’t any expectation to see any sort of ring at this stage of life, but the playful lift of one finger confirmed otherwise. Wrapped in a tangle of dead vines and wilted petals, it seemed that an organic signifier had been exchanged for the usual metal vows.

Okay. That was cute. The strange bird-man got some points for that, especially since it wouldn’t have been easy to craft from his size and stature.

“There’s always room for others if we take a liking to them,” Spectre purred, noticing the deep-set eyes on the ring. “But of course, that comes with time.”

What that was implying, Thorn wasn’t entirely sure, but she felt Spectre take her hand in hers as Witch continued ranting in the foreground.

“But I think I already like you. So we’ll see.”

Talk about getting a foot in the door. She’d scarcely even met this phantom, and the sly little lady was already coming onto her. There was a soft, nervous gulp as Thorn’s ears lowered, not fully reciprocating or pulling away.

“Understood. So… You said there were rooms, right?”

“-All I’m saying is just - oh, neither of you are even listening, are you?! What gives? Seriousl- oh.”

Anger switched to curiosity as Witch turned back around, giving a purr of amusement.

“Nevermind, by all means continue.” There was a knowing smirk as Witch crossed paths with her sister, tail flicking deviously. “But I think I’ll go ahead and find my way towards Beast. I think she may need some help with getting all the teeth unpacked - and I think it’d be a good idea to have my own side of the tunnels this time. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Even if the first cue had been missed, Witch was not slow to the second as she gave her sister a teasing look. The swish of her tail was all that was left as the devious little Borrower absconded, the soft clink of her hands and feet finding purchase on the metal of the drawer handles all the way down.

So that left Thorn with the ghost. There was a softer look as she turned her head over towards the kitchen’s corners, releasing her grasp on Thorn’s hand with a small grin.

“I have a feeling the two of you will get along just fine.”