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sapphicslaylist · 4 days ago

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[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?”

#sapphic slays #stp #slay the princess #stp fanfic #stp beast #stp the beast #stp the long quiet #stp tlq #stp hunted #stp hero #stp voices #stp voice of the hero #stp voice of the hunted #tw animal death #tw violent imagery #predator/prey #Beast analysis fic #tw eaten alive #animal imagery

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sincerely-sofie · 7 months ago

Note

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.

#slay the princess #stp #sofie answers asks

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mecchantheotaku · 9 months ago

Note

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.

#slay the princess #oh god this fic is a mess i apologise #not used to writing skeppy #especially in an “ooc is serious business” context

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magnetarbeam · 10 months ago

Text

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.

#star wars legends #voices of the force au #ahsoka tano #jaina solo #zekk solo fel #jagged fel #vestara khai #ben skywalker #fotj fala #incorrect star wars quotes

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shslquestionmark · 4 months ago

Note

NO STPP STOP STOP STP PSROP COME BACK STARE AT ME

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alteredphoenix · 9 months ago

Text

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."

#slay the princess #fanfiction #mywriting #i told myself this was going to be 2000-2500k words #it's almost at 4000k words aaaahhh #the talon trick

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foolondahill17 · 2 years ago

Text

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.”

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msfcatlover · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#Rants #ignore me #my life #mine

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writingdevil · 2 days ago

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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 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.

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starlitwinter · 2 years ago

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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!

#fanfic #fanfiction #silmarillion #tolkien #original female character #original character #modern girl in middle earth #modern girl in the Silmarillion

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sapphicslaylist · 4 days ago

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[STP] On Borrowed Paths Chapter 7 - Stillness Interrupted

Prev Next

Providing care for someone who's distant is often difficult, especially when trust is something earned not given. But even when circumstances align and guarded hackles lower, perhaps it is out of the supposed "undeserved" action in which more than surface opinion changes and buds into something perhaps, well... unfortunately tender.

(Enemies-to-Lovers Slow Burn! Come and get it!)

TW: Suicidal Ideation & Implications of Lost Autonomy

There was a bristle of the hair along Witch’s limbs, watching tentatively as the situation unfolded.

Why? Why did this keep happening? Every single time she could remember there was cause to take a stand, Thorn would always dip out at the last second. The first time, it seemed to be for the sake of simple protective measures; a way to affirm the lesser of seventeen evils in the chimera pack. The second still remained a defiant last stand against a larger foe; a vibrant force of brutality where if they were going down, they were taking that blasted bird with them.

But this… This was stupid. Daresay a self-inflicted (and possibly permanent) punishment for lashing out. Had her will really been broken that severely?

“What else was I supposed to do? Just watch her fall to her death?” Quiet’s words were soft and uneasy. Even he remained well aware of the severity of what had just occurred, and had a feeling there was much more to this than what laid on the surface. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Let’s just take things one step at a ti-“

There were those small, clawed hands against his forefinger again. This time, however, the look in them wasn’t hostile or arrogant as two dilated pupils stared up at him tearfully, wordless and thankful.

Oh, shit. That really was just a kid. Quiet kept Witch’s gaze for a moment before pulling back to seek advice from his ghastly counterpart.

“You may want to find an alternative to your hand, to start with,” Spectre crooned. “I doubt she’ll take lightly to being held by the time she wakes up.”

There was a small tilt of Spectre’s head towards a small basket on the counter, holding a spare couple of hand towels. Giving a nod, he carefully curled the talons away as he adjusted his grip - only for a shaky stumble to join in, glowering up at his surprise.

For who could’ve possibly joined Thorn’s side in the palm of his hand except-?

“Not a word, Wretch.”

Clearly, even she had mixed feelings about it. The dangerous glint in Witch’s eye confirmed doubt as she settled in, tail wrapping against one of Thorn’s deeply-scarred wrists.

That was fine. He could easily leave the two of them be as he walked over, sliding the basket over with one hand and depositing both Borrowers into the nest of linen. It seemed that the necessary adjustments were ones the young girl was already getting to work on immediately; biting the edge of a towel to fold it over; making sure that there was enough elevation to avoid a head rush. That confirmed Quiet’s suspicion this toxic creature had more medical prowess than just a few spells. It still hurt to see that the look of worry in her eyes, however, was mingled with a sense of anger and betrayal.

It always had to be when things were finally going well. And instead of getting to recover and enjoy the calm after the storm…

Witch gave a growl of contempt as she stared down. Did it always have to feel like it was on purpose? Did Thorn not trust her to front the blows, to take the chances, to make her own course of action? Or was it really just the sheer desire to-

Witch squeezes her eyes shut. No; she would not entertain that thought. There had to be another explanation for this. But she wouldn’t rest until she heard it from her big sister directly, and against all medical intelligence had grown too impatient to wait for an answer.

“Wake up!”

A sharp hiss broke out from Witch’s mouth, claws angled away to give a quick, sharp slap. Witch felt her hand nearly make impact, only to be roughly grabbed on the spot by a firm, trembling hand.

Witch jolted. Of course she wasn’t that stupid. Snarling features twisted into an uneven grin, the pair of them growling at each other.

“Cute,” Witch sneered. “Did you think faking that fall would gain you sympathy?” A further press down, growling deeper. Okay, that wasn’t Thorn’s usual strength shoving back, so maybe ‘faked’ was an unfair accusation. “Look around you. All you did was land yourself all snug and cozy into their care. Little counterproductive.”

There was a grimace as Thorn looked up, opening her mouth as though desperate to counter. Only a cough came out; the strength died out, wincing as Witch fell on top of her. Rage diminished to pure concern.

“You might want to back off and give her some space,” Quiet offered, looking over nervously. “If all of your instincts are as sharp as rumor says, it’s possible that's what drew her out of it.”

Witch didn’t answer back. Her steps, however, indicated that she was indeed heeding his words as she settled to the other side of the makeshift nest. The gaze of frustration from Thorn, too, abated as Witch laid down beside her. Neither wanted to be separated despite interpersonal frustrations.

Okay. At least Thorn knew she wasn’t being left at the mercy of this, well, merci ful corvid. The dizziness didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, but neither did the small, warm pressure as a few kneading hands had found the self-inflicted wounds with a chiding grumble.

“What the hell did you do?” Witch mumbled, kneading over the small lacerations across an even bloodier gown. “These are from your spells . I can smell the lingering aura.” Raising a cautionary brow, she chanced another look up - only to rescind it when it wasn’t returned.

“I…. Don’t know. I just-“ But Thorn’s gaze didn’t situate towards her sister’s. Instead, her exhausted eyes lingered upwards, noticing the way that Quiet stood in the background.

The strange fellow seemed to be bordering on pacing, like a lover awaiting the news from the medic on their sweetheart’s condition. Except this wasn’t that invasive, lovey-dovey air; it was tender and afraid, nothing more, nothing less. His eyes seemed to flicker from her sister as she carefully toiled away at the obvious bleeding wounds and scarring - now, that was interesting. Pretty much anyone else would’ve insisted on poking and prodding, trying to do the job of playing doctor themselves… Lots of Borrowers got hurt that way by well-intending, inexperienced hands that didn’t know their strength.

So he was paying attention. As far as it looked, he’d essentially laid her down there and let Witch - the one with actual medical experience - commit to the rest.

“I’m sorry to ask, but is there anything I can do?”

This time, there wasn’t the immediate hatred rising up within her as Quiet asked. There was the temptation to do something - anything - to indicate that stance had changed on him, but every time Thorn tried to speak, it seemed to come out choked. So instead, she looked at him beseechingly. It felt pathetic.

“Oh, right,” Quiet mumbled with a nod. “It’s okay; I’m more than capable working with it like this if that’s easier. I’m actually not too bad with nonverbal communication; Den happens to be nearly mute, and we still get along fine.”

The plodding steps of the chimera into the room and the gentle reach upwards into his arms seemed to only make this statement softer. He took but a moment to butt heads with her, scratching her cheeks before returning his gaze to a much more comfortable patient.

So this was just his general demeanor. He’d befriended a wide slew of unusual cryptids, after all; technically, his being one hadn’t really occurred to her much aside from his height and predatory features. But it was true now, really thinking for a moment: if humanity saw him, he was just as likely to wind up in chains as any of them. That was presuming he even made it that far, and wasn’t simply shot down for sport like most of the larger entities. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really mentioned any others of his kind…

There had been a rather grave mischaracterization in lumping him alongside the rest.

Meeting eye contact with him was still frightening. But nevertheless, Thorn managed with a wince to reach up and tap her throat.

“That’s what I figured,” Quiet nodded. “Just a moment.”

The sound of awkward shuffling and shifting wings led over to the sink; there was the soft drip of the faucet before carrying over what looked like a tiny, handmade ceramic cup. Whether this had been collected before or after Spectre’s death was anyone’s guess, but judging by the slight indents in areas where talons seemed to have carved the - wait a minute. Had he actually spent time making things the proper size for their potential “guests?”

There was that rigid feeling of guilt again as he handed it over to Witch - not her - as a sort of liaison between them. This was only the second night, and he’d already figured out how this dynamic worked. In all technicality that was worth some sort of praise.

“I’m terribly sorry about this evening,” Quiet managed, actually - he was turning his back? Avoiding eye contact? And folding his - okay. He was shaping up immediately without having to be told. Talons down, feathers slicked back… There was that checklist again, nailing each and every one in rapid succession. “You were right to call me out on it. I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

As Witch held the cup steady for her to drink, Thorn looked over to see the damage that had actually been caused. A few deep scratches all the way down the side of his thumb and raking down the back of his hand, a bite or two on the other side. Pinpricks from the briars snagged the full length; any passerby would’ve mistaken the onslaught for the ambush of a very angry house cat, and mixed with the regret there was a swell of pride in inflicting wounds severe enough to conflate with a larger predator.

Thankfully, nothing too serious. He could heal those just fine on his own. But nevertheless, there was still one question digging at her, clawing for its way out. Once the effects of dehydration had worn off enough, in the midst of his nervous rambling she took her chance-

“Why?”

Quiet chanced a look over.

“M- Why? You had every right to be-“

“N…No. I mean-“ Shaky, uneasy breaths as she dared to meet his eye. “ Why are you helping me?”

Quiet blinked. “Why wouldn’t I? I invited you in. You aren’t the first who’ve come here; I’m well aware there’s no such thing as an ‘off the run’ Borrower. Otherwise, there would be no need.”

“That’s just how this goes,” Witch responded in Thorn’s stead, lowering her head. “Takes a nasty thing to know one. The only reason you’re in the clear is because you’d rather asphyxiate on viper than strike me back.” The look of grief had risen up again to mischief; okay, this child was still working through things after all.

“You’re not nasty-“

“You poisoned him?”

“Yep!” Turning away from Quiet’s affirmation to respond to Thorn’s instead, that arrogant whimsy had returned to Witch’s tone as she lifted her tail in pride. “Oh, please - tell me you didn’t think I would just sit nicely next to this scatterbrain before he got a real taste of what I could do.” There was a sigh as she sat back down amidst the hand towels. “It’s just like I said: make him fear us; earn his respect. I know that’s why you did it, too.”

“Now that we have all of that out of the way, you're also welcome to just ask,” Quiet offered. His head had returned to the other direction. “It doesn’t need to be a life-or-death situation every time. Sometimes it can just be a question.”

“But we both tried to kill you,” Thorn urged, returning to the prior statement. “Why wouldn't that warrant-“

Quiet’s long, amused chuckle cut off her remaining words. His hand drifted down to his side, where the phantasmic presence of Spectre was circling.

“You are not my first or even worst offenders. Remind me; what was it again?”

“The rusted hatchet. You kept running for twenty minutes,” Spectre replied nonchalantly as ever. “But when I finally cornered you, you wouldn’t stay still. A few seconds sooner and instead of grazing past your shoulder, it would’ve been planted in your heart.” There was an almost coy smugness as Spectre recalled it, tracing that distinctive ‘x’ over his chest. “And then we’d match.”

Perhaps Witch was correct in saying it all connected back to fear in the end. They’d all made their mark, and earned his respect.

“Point being,” Quiet continued, “it doesn’t warrant any of the ire you’re surely expecting. Even if my usual guests don’t stay long, that isn’t for lack of trying.” A saddened sigh passed through his beak, shaking his head. “The fact you’re both still here despite it all is a miracle.”

Thorn quirked a brow. Deciding this was probably the time to ask about the recurrent subject:

“What usually happens to the others?”

“They panic and flee,” Quiet answered. “Usually it isn’t even seeing me that frightens them off.”

“The chill of death is too much for them,” Spectre added, equally remorseful. “I scarcely get a word in before they presume the worst.”

“In all fairness,” Thorn scoffed, “you did give quite an introduction when we got here.”

“You’re the first two who even saw me for more than a second. All the others have turned to run; I suppose I was a bit curious and got carried away.” There was that smirk again. “But I was right. You are braver than the others.”

There was a finite throbbing in Thorn’s head as the reality of it dawned on her. Here she was, practically bundled up in a pile of towels, being… Cared for and talking to her larger host and his wife. It didn’t matter if conditions meant he already knew she was there; it was a little bit humiliating. But at the same time, it didn’t feel horrible having someone else tending to her for once.

“… Ugh.”

“Are you alright? I was going to check and make sure you didn’t sustain any further damage, but I’d need to get into your head to do that.”

Thorn blinked. She was… Asking permission? Was this normal here?

“Maybe later,” was about all she could muster in response.

Spectre nodded. “Of course. That’s why I wanted to make sure.”

So “No” was in fact an option.

A hand brushed against the deep talon wounds. They really weren’t making this up. Both bird and ghost really did value their consent. That was… Strange. Welcoming.

Thorn decided better than to dwell on apparent fact. “In either case, we didn’t have much choice. It was either staying here, or else-“

“Dodging the Echo.”

Spectre stated it plainly, giving a soft sigh. “We’ve known about him for some time before this, but he’s never been so persistent.”

“Wait - the Echo?”

Spectre turned in the direction of the injured Borrower. “I believe you know him as The Raven. Echo, Harbinger; his titles all bear the same meaning. Others refer to him simply as ‘Narrator’ as he believes he controls fate itself. He’s a persistent murderer determined to exterminate the Fae. But why he’s so focused on you two in particular evades me.”

Judging by the look in her eye, it seemed that Spectre was aware and not telling for the sake of their privacy. This was one of the few times those deep, horrendous gashes felt like a blessing opposed to a nuisance as Thorn’s gaze drifted down to the branching mark on her palm, marred by scars and lacerations.

The Heiress was unidentifiable by mark alone, but no doubt the bravado from tonight had confirmed any of this ghost’s suspicions about their origin. One did not simply get stalked relentlessly through the woods without reason.

“Regardless, it’s a good thing that you are here,” Quiet added. “Even for all the bumps in the road.” Then, with a soft chuckle: “Just… Maybe less stabbing and poison and, um… whatever that was going forward? I don’t mind pretending not to see you once you’re healed up.”

It seemed that even now the thought of inflicting harm made him deeply uncomfortable . This man was a huntsman, and yet the notion of taking a talon and raking down utterly disgusted him. It was clear by the strained way he looked down at them, grimacing.

“I’m going to have to do something about these…”

“You really mean it.”

His head shifted, plumicorns raising. For a moment, Thorn found herself staring dead in the eye with a very carnivorous bird, the whites of his eyes gleaming. With his beak slack with shock, each and every one of those unnaturally placed canines were visible in their sharp ivory glory within, taloned hand turned downwards like a startled animal. But he looked just as scared as her in the end; just another wild beast unsure of whether to run or stand their ground. There was that soft, slow blink that all Fae associated with their feline routes understood:

Wait - he trusts me?

Den. That’s probably where he learned it. Stiffened limbs relaxed. There was a tense exhale that passed over both of them.

I can’t. Not now; not yet.

There was a soft smile as he recognized the results.

“That’s okay. I figured as much.”

Somewhere next to her, there was a subtle understanding by the soft purr stirring the towels that the one who had returned it was Witch. And judging by all given evidence, that was actually okay.

“But yes,” Quiet continued, “I do. I know that will come with time, but you're not the only one who’s qualms with humanity. As you can imagine, I’m not exactly easy on the eyes.”

A dramatic sweep of his hands went from head to thigh on either side to demonstrate, shifting back and forth for effect. That got a chuckle out of both siblings. Okay; maybe he was a bit of a charmer.

Thorn balked. Oh, no. Surely she’d just hit her head harder than expected. There was no way she was actually taking interest in this… Strange, gigantic cryptid and his weird flair. Either way, Witch blinked in surprise as Thorn ducked her head just a little bit away from view.

“Pretty much any time I wind up outside of this cabin, it’s the same thing: arrows, blades, torches. The good ‘ol ‘slay the monster’ nonsense,” Quiet grumbled. “There are cryptid-friendly markets and places in the woods where I can get the essentials, but it’s not like the world is a safe place for any of us. They see me? Omen of Death. Bam! Reaper. Oh no, run awaaay!”

It seemed as he continued, Quiet’s melodrama was beginning to become a bit more animated, with little slaps of his hand and raises of both palms to imitate fleeing villagers. Okay, no; it was endearing and she hated it. If it didn’t raise more attention, perhaps Thorn would’ve ducked down even further.

“It’s like they think I’m going to, I dunno, eat them piecemeal? The whole thing is incredibly bizarre. In either case, I’m sure I’m someone the markets would be drooling to get their hands on.”

“So it comes down to Cryptid’s Law, then, doesn’t it?”

Cryptid’s Law: the simple practice of defending your fellow victims of human hands. It was what Beast followed when they’d been pushed into the Ring. Now, it seemed Quiet employed the same. Any future ruler of the forest had to know it by heart, and Thorn was well accustomed to the practice between species of welcoming refugees. It was how they’d gotten their current allies to begin with.

“Of course. And then some.” Softly, Quiet allowed Spectre to drift from his hand over towards the pair of sisters, still keeping a respectful distance. “Well? It’s a bit early, but-“

“No. I could tell the moment they came here. This feels right.”

It was Witch’s turn to pipe up. “Now, hang on just a moment -“

“Nothing sinister, promise,” Quiet chuckled. “In fact, this might help to know. Part of why the door was open to your kind was because we’d tried a few times to see if we could complete that unfinished business, and the missing thread always seemed to be-“

“Actual companionship,” Spectre finished morosely. “People I could grow and change with who understood what this life was like.” Tentatively, Spectre crept forward; as the scarred hand ushered her forward, only then she obliged. “It was always so lonely running from house to house, never staying long in a community before having to leave. I wanted what they took from me - a real life with other Borrowers. And I figured once I had company, maybe even like this I could experience a trace of that.”

Phantasmic tears trickled down her cheeks, reaching out without expectation of anything in return. So when the grasp settled again on hers, relieved shock seemed to overwhelm her as she looked down.

The look in Thorn’s eyes seemed bolder now, regaining strength bit by bit as all intentions and motives were revealed in good intent. Even still, her eyes seemed to drift away as she formulated her words.

“Look, you’re… A bit forward, yes. But you haven’t been a bad host. It’s all just a lot to take in at once.”

“So you’re saying you’d prefer to take it slow?” Oh, this ghost was so deliberate with every flirtatious comment. But nevertheless, it wasn’t threatening or invasive now that the rules had been set. And now, it seemed she wasn’t entirely closed off to the notion of quipping back.

“Please. I would prefer getting to know my hostess first.” There was a slight glimmer of mischief as Thorn feigned nudging her away; two could certainly play at that game. “In either case, we really can’t go anywhere else; might as well.”

“Glad to have at least gotten that sorted,” Quiet chuckled. “You know what they say about a happy wife.” One of his fingers ran along his own ring: unlike Spectre’s, it seemed this one was made out of a carved antler. Fossilized flowers situated themselves in place of precious stones, although had just as dazzling an effect.

So this really was where things stood in the end: the lonely ghost of a Borrower and her doting, overwhelmed corvid husband trying his best to accommodate for mortal company. The fact things had taken such a rough turn immediately showed how little faith they had in anyone - and judging by the way he spoke of treatment from others, perhaps both Bird and Borrower presumed it was merely what they deserved.

“This whole thing sucks, doesn’t it?”

A tense grin followed Thorn’s words, immediately feeling the presence of her sister’s hand on her chest trying to keep her heartbeat steady. It wasn't necessary; for the first time in years, it seemed like maybe it was okay to feel for once. It felt good to be angry again.

Gently, Thorn removed it. Witch pulled back as if to argue, but finally dropped it back down reluctantly.

Quiet quirked a brow upon her words.

“What - humans?”

“Everything. Their whole high-and-mighty system. The way they deal with us, hunt us down-“

“- The sport hunting-“

“- The distillery- “

“Pardon?”

The blank horror in Quiet’s eyes indicated that he’d gotten the gist. A frantic tail swish and back-and-forth motion of Witch’s hand to her throat indicated it was best to move on from that specific topic immediately as a disquieted look fell on both siblings’ faces.

“…. Nevermind. There’s a lot of shit that happens to us in captivity.”

“Understandable,” Quiet managed, honestly relieved it was left at that. Perhaps it was good he didn’t know the full extent of their past. “I know I’ve asked, but if there really is anything I can do at this point to make things easier, do let me know.”

Perhaps now was the best time to bring it up; after all, they did seem to be receptive, despite Thorn’s fears.

“I can’t exactly go anywhere right now. Maybe it would be best to start with clearer ground rules.”

“Yes please.” There was an almost breathy begging in Quiet’s tone. “That was extremely confusing. I’d like to avoid it for the future.”

The tense hostility in Thorn’s gaze abated; empathy seemed to finally take over. For once, it was okay to show the feeling was mutual.

“Me too.” Clearing her throat, Thorn decided it best she started off the conversation. “First off, I would still prefer contact to be minimal. This is… Still very unnatural.”

There was a soft swish of her tail as she spoke, gaze harshening just slightly as though expecting to be challenged on this. Instead, Quiet merely dipped his head and nodded. “Understood. I’ll take that as a ‘don’t speak unless spoken to’ basis.”

“That includes Borrowing. I’d much rather be alone for that-“

“Trust me, after all of that, I certainly won’t cross you again,” Quiet chuckled, raising his hand in surprising amusement. It was strange how even after everything, he was regarding this whole blunder as a conversation between old friends. “Just one question: does that mean leaving things out in random places is completely off the table?”

Thorn shook her head. “No; that’s fine. That might make it easier.”

“And I don’t mind either way if you’re in or out of the room,” Witch interjected. “But if you are, you’d better not be standing around and make yourself useful.” Naturally, that feline smirk had made its way back to her lips. She’d found a system that worked, and clearly she was happy to abuse it.

“… Right; okay. So it is that both of you have different preferences with this. Glad we got that cleared up.” Quiet’s attention shifted to Thorn temporarily. “And, let me guess: ‘host breaking all conduct’ left some red flags?”

There was a squint of irritation as Thorn nodded her head, wordless. If he knew that, then why had he done it to begin with? He was obnoxiously hard to read.

“Alright. And what about for the time be-“

“It was a minor fall. I’ll be fine by morning.” There was that stiff bristle of her tail again, cuing Quiet that he’d pressed too far. Despite her seemingly passive demeanor, he now knew the storm that laid beneath Thorn’s pleasantries and calmer aura. But it was soon to pass. “But for what it’s worth… Thank you.”

“No need,” Quiet said with a shake of his head. “It’s my fault we got into that whole mess to begin with.”

Thorn wasn’t going to argue with that. It was his fault, and if he was taking responsibility for it that was a step in the right direction.

Quiet tilted his head towards them. “Surely there’s more to it?”

“Um…” This one was going to be harder to express within the current conditions. “A lot of the things we’re used to gathering are from outside. If it would be possible to step out briefly with Beast every so often to be able to get ahold of them-“

Quiet did a double take. “I really don’t think that's a good ide-ow!”

Quiet looked down as Den clawed her way up to him, looking over the Borrowers and giving him a few grand gestures.

“Huh- what? You already talked to Beast about this?”

Den nodded. Her paw brushed back her mane dramatically, and Quiet sighed.

“Oh, of course he wants to be involved…” Quiet’s eyes drifted back to the Borrowers with a reluctant sigh. “Den’s confirmed she and Beast have both offered to liaison. And Smitten’s apparently dying to mentor the both of you-“

Witch groaned. “Tell me it isn’t some kind of ‘cotillion fancy-shmancy’ nonsense.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Quiet responded. “While I’m sure he’d be thrilled to do some kind of etiquette, he’s fairly flexible to the interests of whoever comes his way. I have seen that he’s fairly good with combat training and ballards; I have a suspicion at least one of those appeals.”

Now that had caught Thorn’s attention. As useful as the lessons from Beast were, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have a more encouraging mentor added to the mix. Being constantly chided on pacifist reservations and distained for ‘meekly evading like prey’ wasn't always what she needed to hear. The same spark seemed to shine in Witch’s eyes, chuckling.

“Oh, I suspected from the beginning he was itching to fight. I’ll gladly take him up on that.”

Quiet chuckled nervously. “That’s not quite what I-“

Thorn put up a hand to cut him off. Arguing with Witch at this point was pointless. Quiet sputtered as he saw it, but listened.

“Um… Alright. I’ll let him know. I think that’s about everything I could remember. You?”

“I can’t really think of anything else right now,” Thorn admitted. “If anything else comes up, well, I guess I’ll let you know.”

“You should probably rest, then,” Spectre offered. “That must’ve taken a lot out of you.”

Taking her cue, Thorn gave a nod.

“Yeah. I think now I probably should.”

“Of course,” Quiet replied, turning to face the bedroom. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. Really.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, both Borrowers and ghost watched in silence as Quiet exited, giving a slight shift of his tail feathers with every step. Once he had exited the room, there was a small tap of a reddish bottle against her side as Witch slid over the familiar potion.

“Tonic,” Witch hissed. “Beast went and refilled our supply this evening. And you definitely need it, with how much magic you drained.”

There was no hesitation as Thorn took the vial into her hands, even with a curious household Borrower like Spectre watching. Even with a household as safe as this one, it was better to be careful and keep that reserve up and locked away from external use. Too many bad things happened without it.

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