#take a look into my twisted dark mind...hehe...just right into my sinister soul...

[spiralstereo]

witches brew.

they're a horribly made transparent png because right next to them is a wip im saving to reveal later. so they're a png

[neko-when-they-cry]

Trick of the Golden Witch chapter 2

Hey there! I decided to continue this story! Here's chapter 2, have a good reading ^^

What was this place? Ange couldn't remember how she ended up here. It looked like… a tea house? She was sitting on a couch, with in front of her was a coffee table with what appeared to be a cup of tea. Ange's mind felt dizzy and everything felt blurry around her. Almost like it was a dream…

"Ange-san? Ange-san?"

A soft voice was calling for her. Ange's vision suddenly became clear and she could see. She turned her head to see who was calling her and was surprised to discover Erika, who was smiling gently at her. She remained confused about why this Erika looked like a teenager in a fancy dress instead of the professional adult she met, before she remembered what happened.

She had accepted to team up with a witch to discover the truth behind the Rokkenjima Massacre.

"Furudo…" Ange mumbled.

"Please, just call me Erika."

"What is this place? Where did you bring me?"

"No need to be worried, I simply brought you to my master."

"Your master… ?"

Ange saw some movement on the table. She turned her head and discovered a black cat on the table. Before Ange could say anything, the cat's form suddenly changed, taking a humanoid shape. A short girl with long blue hair and empty purple eyes was now standing on the table, dressed in a dark dress and with a cat tail. She was looking at Ange with an emotionless expression before she finally got down the table.

"Master!" Erika exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I see that you brought your new piece, Erika," the cat-girl said.

"Yes! I'll be worthy of your expectation, you can count on me!"

"Hm, you better be. You know I don't accept failure," her master replied with some ice in her voice.

Ange noticed a cold sweat dripping from Erika's forehead.

"Who are you?" Ange asked.

"Right, you never met me. Let me introduce myself then. I'm Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles."

Bernkastel… what a strange name. So she was Erika's master. Not that Ange really cared about this, she had other stuff in mind.

"Are you going to tell me the truth behind the Rokkenjima Massacre?" Ange asked bluntly.

"No matter the kakera, you never change, Ange," Bernkastel replied with a soft smirk. "This is something you'll have to find yourself. I lend you my own piece Erika to help you on this quest, she'll be your witch guardian."

"And as your witch guardian I recognize you, Ushiromiya Ange, as a Witch of Truth," Erika declared.

Suddenly, Ange's clothes started to shine. When the light disappeared, she noticed that she was now wearing a goth blue dress with gold at the edge and a hat. Was that supposed to be a witch outfit? Was she truly a witch now? How ridiculous… but if playing witches was what allowed her to discover the truth, then so be it.

"I, Ushiromiya Ange, Witch of Truth, swear that I'll find out the truth behind the Rokkenjima Massacre!"

For a split-second, Bernkastel grinned, before she was back at being stoic.

"Perfect. This time, I'll simply be an observer. I leave it to you, Erika. Don't disappoint me," Bernkastel said.

"Don't worry master, I won't disappoint you! Is Lady Lambdadelta going to join us?"

Lambdadelta… another strange name.

"I prefer to avoid getting her involved. She's too attached to those people, she might do like last time and side with them. Let's keep the fun just between us, okay?" Bernkastel replied.

Erika looked delighted by this answer. She then rose up, while grabbing Ange's arm.

"Then let's go, Ange-san!"

"Huh? Go where?" Ange asked.

Erika's expression immediately became twisted, with a sinister smile on her lips.

"To see your family. We're going to Rokkenjima!"

***

"Ange-san? Ange-san?"

Ange opened her eyes. She had spaced out for a moment. She looked around and saw Erika, the adult one, sitting at her desk in her office.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming," Ange replied.

"It's okay. Thinking about witches perhaps?"

"... we could say that."

Erika was smiling, but there was some bitterness in her eyes.

"Furudo-san, do you dislike witches?" Ange asked.

"Please, just call me Erika… Hm, well I can't really dislike something that isn't real. You know, I used to play witches with the older neighbourhood girls when I was a child."

"Oh, really? It's hard to imagine you pretending to be a witch… To be frank, I used to that too, with my cousin Maria. But I eventually grew bored with it and stopped."

"Same here… I suppose we could say we're both ex-witches hehe," Erika said with nostalgia in her eyes that turned into bitterness. "Those girls, they were good with their magic tricks, I used to think it was truly magic… until I saw through their lies. They challenged me to find their secret, and for weeks I tried to understand how they could do that until I finally uncovered their tricks. Now that I knew magic was only an illusion, I had no interest in being a witch anymore. So I decided to play detective instead and, well, this is where I am now."

Ange felt like this event left some scar in Erika's heart as if her innocence had been cracked. To believe in magic and discover that it was nothing more than tricks and illusions must have been painful. Just like when a child discovered that Santa Claus wasn't real.

Ange noticed the paperwork on Erika's desk.

"What are you working one?" Ange asked.

"Oh, just a boring case. An unfaithful husband and a woman who wants me to prove it. The usual," Erika said with scorn in her smile.

"Pathetic. If you don't love your wife anymore, just leave, don't cheat on her."

"The woman is pathetic too. That's what you get for believing in love. Any woman who believes a man who tells them he loves her is stupid. Men are liars and women are gullible. Human truly is a pathetic species huh… Oh well, at least I can gain from those fools."

Erika seemed to be a woman who had lost hope in humanity. Ange felt like she was talking by experience. Did she have someone being unfaithful to her? Could it be what totally broke her innocence? Ange didn't dare to ask, she didn't want to pry too much on Erika's past. But there was one question she was wondering and was willing to ask.

"Erika… do you enjoy being a detective?"

Erika seemed taken by surprise by this sudden question, but smile nonetheless.

"I do. There's nothing more rewarding and fun than exposing people's secrets and show them how smarter I am to them. You could say I'm an intellectual rapist, and proud to be. Whatever people are hiding, I'll uncover it. I'll always expose the truth and enjoy to see their pitiful expression as I reveal their most sacred secrets to everyone."

What a nasty woman. In other words, she just wanted to uncover mysteries to prove her superiority, to put down others and satisfy her lust. A true intellectual rapist… Ange wondered what was the appeal in stepping on others like that and torment them. Erika's desire to know the truth was twisted, unlike her. Her intention was pure, she simply wanted to know the truth so her family can finally rest in peace.

Erika rose up and put a brown trenchcoat, totally stereotypical of a detective, and grinned with excitement.

"Let's go Ange-san, we have an unfaithful husband to catch!"

Ange sighed. That didn't seem in the least interesting. But who knows, maybe it will be rewarding in a way and help her find out the truth about the Rokkenjima Massacre. Without much enthusiasm, Ange followed Erika, wondering when they will investigate her case.

***

Ange was amazed by what she was witnessing. Inside of a boat, there were floating in somewhere that looked like space, but with strange blue crystals floating all around them.

"Beautiful, isn't?" Erika said.

Ange turned to see her witch guardian, who was now wearing a pirate hat.

"What is this place?" Ange asked.

"The Sea of Fragments," Erika replied. "More specifically, Beatrice's Catbox."

"Beatrice… catbox?"

"Those kakera all represent possibilities for the 4 and 5 October of 1986. As long as the truth isn't revealed, all those fragments continue to exist inside the catbox. But we are going to uncover the truth and opened this catbox, and expose the true culprit to everyone. All those kakera are useless, only the truth mattered."

Ange agreed. She had no interest in all those possibilities. She just wanted to know the truth and expose the culprit who stole away her dead family. She wanted everyone to know the truth so the culprit may never rest in peace, tainting their name forever.

"Where are we going? Are you going to show me the fragment that represents the truth?" Ange asked.

"Unfortunately, the witch cast a spell on it to seal it, only the Lord of the Golden Land can see it. So we'll have to fight them to know the truth," Erika explained.

"Lord of the Golden Land? Who's that? What's the Golden Land?"

"An imaginary place kept alive thanks to the catbox. Inhabited by nothing more than illusions and ghosts from the past. As long as this place exists, your family will never rest in peace. It's up to you to find out the truth and annihilate the Golden Land, so the soul of your relatives may finally be free."

Ange clenched her fist with anger. So her family was trapped in some imaginary land by the witch. She was determined to defeat her and find out the truth so her family may finally rest. She won't let that witch desecrated her loved ones any longer, she'll allow them to die properly and finally mourn them.

Among all the kakera, Ange noticed one that was particular, it glowed with a golden aura.

"Is that…?"

"Yes, it's the Golden Land," Erika said with some resentment in her voice.

The golden kakera was now right in front of Ange, who stretched an arm to touch it.

"Don't forget, they may look like your family, but they are nothing more than illusions. Have no mercy on them," Erika said.

"I won't. My family is dead, those people are just ghost who need to rest in peace," Ange replied with conviction.

Erika smiled with satisfaction and, with Ange, touched the golden fragment. Suddenly, the golden radiance engulfed the entire boat in gold light, swallowing the two Witches of Truth, sending them straight to the Golden Land. Short chapter, the real action will start next chapter! Seeya next time! :) You can also read it here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956274/chapters/50405915#workskin

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, MINNIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of MIRANDA. Admin Kaitlin: Oh Minnie. God knows that I love Maeve, but you bring something to her that even I don't think I love her enough to ever understand how to put to paper. She is just... god the way you write her makes me want to say that is is made of pure light, that she has a soul that glows so brightly you could see it from the moon--but she is so much more than her goodness, so much more than her heart. You write a Maeve that is fierce in her softness, courageous in her love, and is so brutally herself that it just breaks my heart. I am so glad to have you back writing her. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Minnie

Age | 23… ugh I hate that I’m 23

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’ve been pretty active so far on Paola, and I hope to continue being so :) I usually do replies when I need a mental break from work or in general at home, and it’s been working out very well for me. I would give myself a 7/10.

Timezone | EST

Current/Past RP Accounts | I really don’t think that’s necessary at this point hehe

In Character

Character | Miranda.

What drew you to this character? | I’m here for a third try!! I love, adore, Maeve, she’s so sacred to me and I’ve tried to leave her alone but.. I miss her!! It’s still that pure goodness and undeniable strength that calls to me now, just like it did before. She has so much potential and she lives so far off the ground that her head is in the clouds. It’s easier to touch God this way — but it’s also much farther to fall. I just love her you guys know how much I love her idk how not to love her, she’s a part of me at this point.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I never did get to write Maeve learning how her mother died, and I’m adamant about making it happen this time. Last time, I made Montagues the source of Maeve’s mother’s death - but I think this time, I’d like to make it the Capulets who intentionally manipulated the situation to recruit Philip into their ranks. I’d like her to try, so damn hard, to be accepted by the Capulets to please her father and to save them all… only to learn that they were the ones to destroy her and her family first, that she owes them nothing but revenge. Oh man, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.

I’d also like to see Maeve intentionally dismantle Montague/Capulet animosity - or rather, try to. She has such! a soft! heart! and it is undeniably hard to not love Maeve, so I have no doubt that this is exactly what will happen. I’d like to see her become a Joan of Arc again, a martyr for the sake of love, willingly throwing herself into the fray to protect one and to protect all. I’d like to see it go to shit, of course - but I’m hoping that first, Maeve will be disillusioned by the Capulets already and considering going rogue, running away from Verona, etc.

With Maeve being so lovable and also fucking stubborn, I imagine she has quite a bit of information under her belt. I’d like to see someone use her for her information, information that she may not even realize is valuable - Juliana’s favorite color, her father’s weapon of choice, etc. I’d like to see her be manipulated because I think it’s incredibly realistic, and she can appear to be an easy target — though of course, they’d be wrong. Maeve has a certain way of getting under someone’s skin, whether it be through her goodness or her kindness or her surprising ferocity.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I KILLED HER ONCE AND IDK IF I CAN DO IT AGAIN but we’ll see. :)

In Depth

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

“Oh, there are so many.” Maeve folds her legs against her chest, resting her chin atop her knees and smiling like she has been offered a present. With the light falling in from the window behind her and her curls surrounding her face like a halo, she looks younger than her nineteen years. Far younger - but there is a knowing look in her eye that stands the test of time, makes them question their assumption of her age.

“Okay, I’ll tell you my favorite place, but you can’t tell anyone.” She leans in conspiratorially, nearly falling off her seat as she did, “it’s Verona’s hidden gem, I swear.”

Maeve waits for their promise before continuing. “There is a small local market on the outskirts of Verona, just at the city’s edge. It only sells secondhand goods, but that’s the best part of it - everything sold has already been loved, and buying things there feels like letting another person into your life. You know?”

They shrug their shoulders, not able to understand her fascination with used junk. Maeve’s smile does not dim, actually glows brighter still; she’s used to not being understood, and she knows how to take discouragement in her hands and mold it into something kind and gentle. “It’s like, everything there has such history behind it. And when you take something like that, something that’s kind of old but so precious that the owner can’t bear to throw it away… it’s like you’re keeping that love alive. And the best way to honor love is to keep loving, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s a little rusty or needs to a good thunk before it turns on.”

She shrugs and presses her cheek against her knees, looking up at them sideways through her lashes. “Do you get it now?”

They swallow, and slowly nod. Yes, they do.

What does your typical day look like?

“With a really annoying alarm,” Maeve laughs. “And then I try to stay in bed for a little bit longer, but if I take too long, Papa will leave without breakfast, and we can’t have that.” Well-fed men are alert, she remembers learning, and the hungry die first. “I always start by making breakfast fresh for the both of us, and if I can, I meal prep for the next two meals, too. It’s a nice and slow start to my day, and I’m always grateful for a chance to take my time and enjoy every small moment.”

Her head cants to the side as she ruminates on the rest of her day. Her mornings are the most consistent part of her day, the most cherished hour as the light trickles into the Petre home and Verona waits for Maeve to enter its embrace. “After that, I go to work at the flower shop if I have a shift that day. Sometimes, I go to the library and read everything I can. Or go to the coffee shop and people watch for awhile. It really depends!“ 

They quirk an eyebrow. “What about school?”

Maeve hesitates, eyes shifting from left to right to make sure her Papa is not around. “Someone has to stay home and take care of the house,” she says once she’s confident they are alone. “I could have gone to university, and I was really excited to go for a long time, but…” She sighs, dreamy and sad. “There are more important things, and I am still learning so much now without being in school. The world can wait for me. My Papa, though - he needs me.”

Her lips lift to a small and secret smile. “More than he knows.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

She remembers her Papa coming home, his shadow sinister in the moonlight and the blood staining his hands and his cheek. She remembers swallowing her fear and asking, quietly and plainly, what he was out doing. If she will let herself, Maeve knows she can feel the same drop in her stomach and the sudden, violent urge to vomit at his feet.

She remembers marching up to the Capulets and demanding recruitment. “Enlist me,” she remembers saying, “and I will be the most valuable person in your army.”

She remembers the glint in their eye, an old friend of her father’s and surely a pawn in the Capulets’ game. “You have no experience with violence, weapons or warfare. You’ve been kept in the dark your entire life, and you think you offer value?”

“Yes." 

She remembers their approving hum. She remembers the quick and rapid process of becoming a Capulet as her Papa watched, horror in his eyes. She remembers being proud of herself.

No, joining the Capulets is not the mistake Maeve is thinking of.

“My biggest mistake has been letting the world make decisions without me. My entire life, I’ve loved Verona more than anyone - and never once did I ask the right questions. I thought I knew my Papa, thought I knew Verona.. For so long, I lived… I lived a lie. Because I never tried to see what was right in front of me.”

Her fingers are shaking, Maeve realizes with a start. She folds them together and wills them to stop trembling. “It won’t happen again.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“When I told my Papa I planned to join him in the Capulets, he was furious.” Maeve fiddles with the ring on her right ring finger, a dainty thin gold band with a single diamond in the center. Her mother’s engagement ring, and her most prized possession - and often the first sign of her emotional turmoil. “It was the first real fight we had,” she reminisces out loud, “and he insisted I take it back.”

Her lips twist regretfully as she recalls how ugly their words had gotten. “He asked me to be my mother’s daughter - not his. He told me I was meant to be a flower only, his little girl… and I was.” Her voice cracked. “I am." 

Maeve clears her throat quietly and takes a second to gather her composure. When she speaks again, it’s with undeniable conviction and passion: “I cannot be less than who I am, and I will be the one to decide who exactly that is. And right now,” she smiles, “I am a Capulet.” 

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“Haven’t you heard?” Her eyes are sparkling, as if they are sharing some private joke. “I’m the poster child for anti-war.”

But the joke is short-lived, and before they get the chance to smile along, Maeve’s expression sobers and the atmosphere of the room changes. "It’s a never-ending circle, and it is destroying us. We’re sacrificing everything that truly matters: the people we love, the city we live in, ourselves. And for what? Revenge?”

She bites her lip, unmistakeable distressed. “I won’t fight in this war. I know I’m young, and I know I’m just a soldier — but I will be stronger than my Papa. Where he was weak, I will be strong for the both of us.“ She pauses, and then — "For my Mama, too.”

Maeve smiles kindly, knowing the reaction her speeches usually receive. If she believed any less, then she might even be sorry — but her ideals are too important, and she will be damned if she even considers apologizing for them. “I know that this might be hard to understand. We have lived like this for so long, maybe even without realizing it. But I do believe there is hope. For Verona, for all of us. There is a brighter day coming; I just know it.”

In-Character Para Sample: Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

I.

“Papà, you must remember. Please, tell me you remember,” Maeve begs, her hands clasped together like a child’s prayer.

Her eyes are just like her mother’s. The thought comes unbidden before Philip can close his heart against it. The memory of his first love, staring up at him with eyes as warm as the earth, with all the feeling in the world — it is crippling and heartbreaking and all too much. His heart falters at the reality of her death as he remembers and relives it, over and over again.

She is just like you, Maria.

He takes another hearty swig from his glass, avoiding his daughter’s gaze like she is the angel of death.

“Papà,” Maeve says again, her voice a low whisper. “Papà, please.”

How can a girl so young move his heart so? His own flesh and blood, and he is too afraid to look at her for fear that he won’t be able to breathe.

Another swig.

“Oh, Papà.” Before he can close his arms and resist a child’s love, his daughter is climbing onto him, curling in his lap and pressing her ear against his chest. “I forget, sometimes.”

She is searching for my heart. The poor creature. She won’t find it. My heart is gone, it is torn into pieces and all that is left is something cold and silver.

“I forget that you must miss her, too.”

The cup falls to the floor, and Maeve flinches in his arms at the crash of it — but still, she holds on tight.

He answers her unspoken question gruffly, his throat raw and blistered: “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“I miss her, too. But… Papà?”

“What, stella mia?”

“I miss you, more.”

And this is the final crack in his chest; and the river is opened up to him; and silent, steady tears begin to fall.

“We don’t have to talk about Mamma. It’s okay. It’s just you and me now.” A hand holds his cheek like a ghost used to, in another life.

But that was the past, and this is the present, and the future is in his arms trying to save him from the darkness he carries, the darkness she is too young to understand. He knows it is Maria’s influence; such light could only come from Maeve’s mother, for Maria was the sun that carried the weight of his entire sky.

He will not fail Maria, and he cannot fail Maeve. He will pour his heart and soul and mind unto Maeve until he can hardly recognize himself, and he will hide his burdens from Maeve so she will never look like him.

Maria. Maeve. Maria. Maeve. 

“How I love you, stella mia.” With newfound courage and determination, Philip holds her close. “How I love you.”

“Oh, Papà. I love you, too. 

* Maria: meaning “sea of bitterness” or “sea of sorrow”; “rebellion” “wished-for child” and “mistress or lady of the sea”

II. a diary entry

A long time ago, I was afraid of the night. I can’t tell you how or when it began, but I have carried this childish fear with me for too many years to count. I thought it was a part of me, just another piece of the puzzle that had no origin and no explanation. There was so much that I did not understand: my father, my mother, the world I so longed to see.

But one day, I thought. One day, I might understand it all.

A long time ago, I was afraid of the night, but I loved it, too. When the sun had set and the light had all but faded, the sound of the one you love coming home would ring out like church bells on a spring morning; the smell of cigarettes would hold tightly to the air like an embrace after a long, weary voyage. 

For the night brought many terrors, but it had some comforts, too; didn’t all nightmares end with the whispered comforts of I am here, stella mia, I am here and the day will come and the monsters are only bad thoughts who have overstayed their welcome?

A long time ago.

A long time ago, I only thought of my father returning; I did not know and did not even think to question where he was returning from.

I shall never forget the emptiness of his eyes. I shall never forget the tired droop of his shoulders, the black silhouette of his that seemed so familiar at night. I shall never forget the silver in his hair, which I had not seen before until the moonlight brought its cruel light to every secret I had not considered.

I tried, very hard, to forget the red. I chose to remember the rest, the cold silver and black and blue of it all — but the red, I desperately tried to forget. But I could not let go of the scarlet, as hard as I tried.

I… had a reason for staying up waiting, for running to see him. I can’t remember it now, but — there was a reason.

Ah, I remember. I wanted to read him a poem.

I was a child.

He did not say a single word that night. He shook his head, ever so slightly, and walked away.

Papà. Beloved Papà. 

The burden of knowing and still not fully understanding has haunted me since. For even after seeing him in the silver and black and blue and red, Papà merely patted my cheek and sent me on my flowery way. I felt so small, so strange, as if I could hardly recognize myself.

He told me that when I was older, I would understand. I wanted to tell him that I have been waiting my entire life to understand. Even as a child, I so yearned to know about the mother I didn’t remember, and I never received an answer. It pained Papà to hear talk of her, and it pained me to see him weep. So I stopped, but I always wondered, and I always dreamed of a woman’s soft hands and laughing eyes.

I never told him this… and maybe if his secret had been softer, forgiveness would have come so easily. I can empathize with shielding the one you love from pain.

But not like this. Not like Papà did. It wasn’t just his secrecy that wounded me deep to the bone; it was the secret itself. I would never have imagined Papà, who was my entire sun and sky, to be… like that.

It wasn’t just the fact that I didn’t know everything about him. It was that when he came home in scarlet, I didn’t recognize him at all. It was that I loved him still, even with my shattered heart.

I have made peace with this. It might seem strange to you that I can say with full confidence that I have forgiven Papà and that I still love him as my own sun and sky, after writing all of this. But I have. My love for him is stronger than any betrayal, and even that night cannot steal that from us. 

These thoughts are so much louder these days because tomorrow, I will be a Capulet soldier. I am older now, just like Papà said, and I must know why Papà ran to their shadows all those years ago. For I have come to the conclusion that to love someone is to know them. 

Tomorrow, I will know. Tomorrow, I will begin to understand.

Or so I hope.

III.

Each night, Maeve held her bleeding heart in hand and tucked it under her arm to keep it warm while the wind howled with despair. Be still, my heart; the sun will rise again, and the war will be ours to win.

Because it was a war, though not the one the Capulets enlisted her for. No matter what they told her, Maeve would choose her own battles, and she was determined to fight for peace until it was Verona’s triumph — for she had no other choice, for the only alternative was to lose her father and her home to blood and guns. 

From the shadows, a man appeared: her target. Her mission was to retrieve the full payment for an order placed exactly one month ago. He was a new, and so far unreliable, client, and therefore needed extra… encouragement to pay the Capulets in full.

The job fell to Miranda, who had never run a solo mission before. Though she might be green, she was confident; she had impressed the others with her sheer will, if not her skill with the knife. They might not take her seriously yet, but they would, for Maeve was determined to make her voice heard.

“They tell me you’re called Miranda,” the man said.

“Yes,” was her simple answer, short and straightforward.

The street lights illuminated the cruel crook of his lips, the sharp slant of his brows. “They also tell me that you are here for my money.” He was sneering at her, his lips curled in a resentful snarl.

Maeve stepped forward, the softness of her eyes coming to view. “That’s true.”

At the sight of her pretty face, the man’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “They sent a pretty girl like you,” he moved closer, “alone in the middle of the night?”

“Is that so strange?” She adjusted her grip on the knife hidden in a sheath inside her sleeve.

“Not strange,” the man shook his head, “dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Maeve offered a kind smile as she continued to adjust her fingers on her knife’s grip, wondering — if she needed to bring it forward. If her knife was worth using at all. “I appreciate the concern, but I think you know that we don’t send soldiers into battle unprepared.”

“What battle is there, girl?” His laugh was unexpected and rang false in the night, too jaded to be true. “You think I don’t have the money? You think I won’t pay?”

“I don’t think anything. I’m here on orders, and orders alone, to retrieve the payment in full for the last transaction between you and the Capulets.”

He spat onto the ground and thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants, staring off into the night sky. “It’s all about money with you folks.”

“Not all of us — but you did make a promise, sir, and you must honor it. It is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

The man fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke, it was with the barest hint of vulnerability. “So you think I’m a gentleman, huh?”

“I assume most men are gentlemen until they prove otherwise,” Maeve said gently.

Her compassion seemed to ease the man out of appearances and reveal his true nature; a look of panic came over his features, wild and dangerous. “What if I told you I didn’t have the money?” A tremble shook through every word, and his eyes seemed to widen by the moment. “What would they do to me, then?”

She wanted desperately to reassure him, to tell them that she was only a soldier, new and inexperienced and unknowledgeable. But it was not that Maeve did not know; it was that she did not agree. For how could Maeve threaten (or worse) a man who, in that moment, seemed so human. 

“I… don’t think you want to know,” she finally answered, sympathy passing over her features.

The man groaned and threw his hands in the air. “I had the money, I swear I had it. But then that bastard got me drunk and the women were so pretty…”

The tale of a proud man, who wanted nothing more than to prove himself. Maeve sighed and loosened her grip on her knife. There would be heavy consequences to bear for her next words, but there was nothing else she could do. For her heart was soft and could not bear to harm another. “I will do my best to grant you an extension.”

The man breathed out a long sigh of relief, wrapping his arms about his torso tightly like a congratulatory embrace. “Thank you, thank you. You are kind, Miranda, kinder than I deserve. Tell them that I will have it immediately, I only need a little more time. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Please,” Maeve only let a hint of desperation show in her tone, “don’t do this again. The next time, you will not be forgiven so easily.” With a nod and a faint smile, she turned and walked away from the now-incoherent man. 

She would pay for this later — but nothing worth having came without a price.

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

I kept a few headcanons from the old app I thought still applied:

Knives. When Philip first handed her a 9mm Glock 17, Maeve’s hands shook as she forced her fingers to wrap around the grip. He put his hands on her shoulders and methodically explained just how to use a weapon, and when he stepped back, she knew it was not in her. She turned to her father with silent tears already staining her cheeks and pushed the weapon back into his hands. Papà, a gun is for killing, she said gently, and I am not a killer.

But to be a Capulet was to wield a weapon like a musical instrument, a paintbrush, a masterpiece; so Maeve chose the knife, for at least it was more than just violence. Just like her, a knife could be both sharp and soft, it could be used for bad and good. It all depended on her choice, and Maeve knew that she would always choose good.

Part-time job. Maeve works at a local flower shop in Verona, making conversation with the regulars and reading a book when the shop is slow. It’s a nice way to pass the hours, and she’s been there for so many years that it’s become a second home.

[xladymalice]

Anon Ask Mania >:D

Let’s get this shit started!

Mainly Swapfell Dawn stuff and the like <3

Anon 1 Oh boi, you saw right throw it. There is actually some hatred between them.... the roots for this are deep in their past. So stay curious about Swapfell Dawn! It will explain a ton !(a skele-ton! Ahaha... killmeplz) Well yeah <3 It is true love between them... so it seems Black did something to enrage Pup for real~~~ mhmhm <3 (I won’t tell, sorry <3)

Anon 2, 3. 4 These asks are a lil bit old already, but I cannot resist answering them! Yeeessshhhh.... isn’t he just adorable af!?!??! LOVE THAT SMOL LIL SKELE. LOOOOOVE HIIIIM, Mwehehehehe!

Anon 5 Sansy wouldn’t be Sansy without his sass <3

Anon 6, @1werepire

Maybe? <3

Anon 7 You’ll have to wait to find this out!

@buttergriffin332

Black: I don’t see the good point in this!? Are you shitting me!? I am not adorable! And it’s not my problem, if monsters get fooled by my looks! Only Pap can tell me this without dieing for it!

Anon 8

Sorry... just a messy doodle.... xD

Anon 9 Thanks for reviewing this!!! Aah, this ask made me soooo happy! I know how siblings to quarrel over shit and stuff. My niece and I are rather siblings than aunt and neice (just 4 years apart, ahha.... so basically she will be as old as black and me just like pup this years) I have a brother but he’s 17 years apart from me... I don’t know of this “intimate connection between siblings”. But I want to show that they have it... can fool around and still love each other fraternally <3

@fullm00ny Thanks sweetie <3 I’ll always put as much energy as possible into my work, mwehe! Don’t worry, I’ll gladly answer <3 Let’s say he’s very concentrated on page 30. He focuses one eyes only to look directly at Blue’s stats and soul state. He could use both eyes, but he has some troubles there. So it might be there is more more reason than the ones I’ve named. But it’s just a minor thing, so don’t think too much about it >D Sansy’s eyes are all healthy, so both always would glow if he uses greater magic.

Anon 10, 11 Yeah, right!? I love them soooo much. I’ve got so many smaller stories for them in my head. Seeing them grow up will be a greaaat experience for you guys and a nice challenge for me. Their life will explain their current state and way of thinking. So stay curious! Thanks for telling me that you like it tho! It helps me to go on with this story!

Anon 12 Of course. He doesn’t liked being yelled at. After all he used great magic for his age! XD He’s a stubborn lil’ man. Let’s say Pup knows that side already. His brother had this attitude from this start, haha!

Silent comic stuff <3 Hehe! -Twisted mind

Anon 13 Hehe, you’ve noticed a good fact. Yes, the shading was next to Pup rather dark. Not only because the window just lit up one side, but because he should look sinister >D Mhmhm... he is Gaster’s son after all. So there seems to be something he got from him. He struggles with something, but I won’t tell what it is. I get your idea... but you might interpreted it not entirely right~ Not to mention that its his magical eye side ~ I’m glad I captured your interest to think this much about it <3

Anon 15 It happened some time after they moved there. There was no fucking way there’s a good bed in that..... trash dump.... srsly.. xD No way. You’ll see soon why there was a nice, cuddly bed <3

Anon 16, 17 Pffff, you both made me grin like crazy xD I’d love to do that just to see you guys cry. But srsly... there is like... a GIGANTIC story around Black and Pup.... there’s no way he’s dead... I mean.. why would he be alive as an adult then? I’ve mentioned that resets start a lot later than their childhood.

Anon 18 Nop, that’s not how he ended. Good try!

Anon 14 I get that you are thirsty my friend. But I hope that’s not the only reason you stay around. I’d suggest you to wait for my story to update... or else... idk... why would I even tell this now? That’s not the point of the story.

Anon 19 aka Dirty little cookie Pfff. Sure mate. Take me on and I’ll kick your filthy ass. I can make you beg and cry, so come on. Try me. Hehehe, I hope that you have a great day too <3 Let’s thirst more for Swapfellcest. There is like seriously nothing about them... or sooooo little that it won’t ever make me satisfied. Not to mention that I got picky with what I like.... (Pup is for my a top-dude... he won’t get penetrated, fu all) You’re sooo welcome. Thanks for sharing your love with me <3

Anon 20 I guess this was the same person, lol. Welcome! xD I am a total Swapfell trash gurl. I cannot get enough of them.... I dedicated my life to them. No matter how much I like the Swapgays and Yandere Blue, I love Swapfell so much more... and I will make them rise! Mwehehe! Welcome to my fucking blog then. We’ll have some bloody, tasty cookies here that hunger for new friends!

Anon 21 *coughs hard* Yes, yes, yes............................

Anon 22 Whut? I’ve got a graphic tablet. Wacom Intuos Pen. A blue one <3 Or else I just draw on paper with an ordinary mechanical pen!

Dirty Little Cookie Pfff.... I WONT EVER STOP YOU DISGUSTING PIG <3<3<3<<3 PUP HAS TO SHOW HOW MUCH HE LIKES IT; MWEHEHE

Anon 23 Thanks <3 I’m glad you like her so far~ well... let’s see for how long you will like her... *chuckles*

Anon 24 Weellllllllll.... I won’t tell you... the new page will show you why <3 (I’m working on it!) Mhmm..... Swapfell Muffet is not in Sympathy in the current timeline. But Muffet exists there!

Anon 25 ....... how dare you.... making me all thristy... for this? Yes, fck yes.... Mutt needs some time to punish his lord too..... nhnnnnnnn........

Anon 27 (Lol I’ve lost 26...) Yeah... now ords for that guy... some human without abrain. It’s nothing new.

Anon 28 Maybe? Who knows <3 (Wait for the story! You’ll see!)