#violinsandmasquerades

[elsewhereuniversity]

in. out. in. out.

She repeated the mantra over and over in an attempt to slow her labored breathing. Her face flushed, her knees skinned, her shirt sweaty, she lay flat on the concrete pathway in between the forest and the Elsewhere cafeteria. She wondered briefly where her heels had gone, but dismissed the thought.

“I made it. I actually made it. I outran them,” she muttered to herself in between gasps, “I’m safe now” She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the steadiness of the stone beneath her spine and the refreshingly still night air. Her feet ached, god how they ached, and between her ribs there was a sharp pain, but despite all odds she had made it. Faintly, she heard the thrum of drums and the ancient call of the hunting horn, and the steady beat of something not-quite-horse-hooves. She was dizzy, giddy with her victory. “I made it”

she was struck with a white-hot fear as she heard the call, she ran, she ran so fast, she ran like she never had before

Not-Ellie, her current roommate, had warned her about the Hunt tonight. They were on well enough terms that Blossom considered herself vaguely Favored- not that Not-Ellie was a particularly powerful Fae, but she knew when the Hunts came to Elsewhere, and she knew when it was best for mortals to find shelter.

she could hear the slow peaceful breath of the not-horses, she felt sharp teeth around her ankles, and she kept running

Despite her words of warning, however, Blossom had found herself caught between a late-night writing class and the relative safety of her dorm. Stupidly, she figured she had enough time to make it back, but her shoes (comfortable as they are) were not made for sprinting, and before she reached the halfway mark she could hear the baying of the hounds. stupid stupid stupid. Laying there on the concrete, she hardly remembered how she got there. “Running, for sure,” she relayed to herself, “lots of running. Jumped over a river, maybe.”

she tripped over a gnarled root when the loop of it hooked the edge of her heel, she fell face-first into the freezing stream. the wind around her howled mournfully, as if it knew what fate was to befall her. her hands scrabbled for purchase on the riverbanks, but the tide was too swift and the current tore her away. a moment of blackness overtook her when the jagged rocks struck her forehead, and she came back to consciousness seconds later choking on the moldy water.

“Jeez, maybe I should try out for track or some shit. Never knew I could run like that before.” Her hand flopped up to her forehead of its own accord- she felt as if there should be something there, but nothing was felt except a thin sheen of sweat. She was still a bit dizzy, though, so she made no movement to get up.

her palms stung, her fingernails were in shards, but she found the strength to push herself out of the murky water. the stream widened here, and the current slowed, and she gave herself a moment to rest. perhaps, she thought, the flowing water was enough to stop them. her eyes drifted shut-so tired, so incredibly tired, she hardly noticed the not-hooves slowing as they approached.

Blossom coughed. She slowly sat up, noting the soreness of her feet. “I really got lucky. I didn’t think they’d ever let up.” She thought about Not-Ellie and her words of warning: 

“Once they get your scent, they never let go. It’s part of the thrill of the hunt, you see,” Not-Ellie’s eyes had flashed a dangerous violet for a moment, and her teeth looked too white. “What fun would it be if they just gave up!” Blossom had laughed nervously, while Not-Ellie threw her head back and let loose raucous peals of laughter. Blossom eyed the door, wondering if the other students were listening in. “No, Flower-girl, you don’t want to be out there on the night of the Hunt. Though it would be amusing to me!” 

“Pretty damn lucky, that’s for sure,“ Blossom said. 

she was barely awake. her lungs burned, her ribs were white-hot with pain, her feet were white and cold, she couldn’t move, her words stuttered in her mouth, she was being dragged (no, not dragged, she wasn’t touching the ground) the leaves shifted in the breeze beside her

Blossom coughed again, harder. There was something caught in her throat- it didn’t hurt, but it was a bit irritating. The spinning world slowed for a minute or so, and she took advantage of this fact to rise to her feet and survey her surroundings. The cafeteria was further than she had thought at first, the dim streetlights somehow distant (as if there was fog wrapped around the fluorescent bulbs) (or her)

she was delirious. she heard voices, or just one, or thousands of overlapping tones of the wind, and they were all calling her nickname.

“what would you give? what would you give?”

her lips were too cold and numb to move, she couldn’t form the words so she just thought.

“I would give anything, I would give anything to live”

the vines twisted lovingly around her wrist, a flower bloomed above her left ear.

“would you become one of us? would you join the forest? would you give your skin and your speech?”

her mind was fuzzy, the riverwater dripped from the tip of her nose, moss began to travel up the trees where she hovered.

“I would give anything” she repeated in her mind. “my skin, my life, my name, my speech”

“you will be safe,” the forest sang. “you will be loved.”

she felt safe. she felt loved.

the vines gently set her down on the moss. dazed, she stumbled barefoot onto the concrete path between the woods and the elsewhere cafeteria.

Blossom’s throat itched, it burned like hell. She doubled over, coughing, hacking, and it felt as though something was making its way out. With dawning alarm, she scratched her arm furiously, something itched, something burned, all over her body.

She coughed, she coughed again, harder, and a leaf drifted down from her mouth. Again and again, and more and more leaves cascaded down. She watched in horror as her nails strained against the swelling of her fingers, as they popped off one by one (it didn’t hurt, why didn’t it hurt), as her hands twisted and gnarled. Her hair was wet with riverwater, and then with sap, and then it fell down her shoulders and she looked and every strand was a string of willow leaves. She reached upwards to her cheek and felt the soft pillowy texture of moss, her lips grew hard and crackly like lichen, her breath caught in her chest and she tried to gasp but she couldn’t anymore.

The baying of the hounds grew closer again, it had never left completely. She tried to call out but her vocal chords had stretched into petals.

The baying of the hounds grew ever closer.

She felt the moss spread down, down, over her neck and her collarbone, down, down to her hips, down her legs.

 She felt the roughness travel up, up from her bare feet, up her legs, her hips, her ribs, her collarbone. Her facial muscles stiffened, the bark dug underneath her skin until it replaced it entirely.

 The baying of the hounds was loud in what used to be her ear. The Hunt had arrived for its quarry, but all that remained was a tall tree (some horrific combination of flowers and bark, with long willow-leaves oak-leaves and gnarled branches and bright red berries) blocking the concrete pathway between the woods and the Elsewhere Student Dining Hall. If what used to be Blossom still had ears, it would have heard the irritated snort of the horses, or the long, mournful howl that followed. But it didn’t have ears, and so it heard nothing.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Not-Ellie grinned as she watched from the nearby shadows. She had told Blossom not to go outside during the Hunt, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the show. Stupid mortals, she giggled to herself, one way or another, the Hunt will always get you. She waved jovially at the train of dogs and not-horses as they melted away, then peeled herself out of the darkness and leaned up against what used to be Blossom. 

"And to think, you really believed we were friends. It’s okay, I won’t blame you for not getting it." 

The tree leaves rustled, as if curious.

Not-Ellie shed her glamour like a snake sheds its skin, and rose a vine-arm to caress Blossom’s used-to-be-cheek. A flower bloomed in the center of the fae’s chest cavity. 

"Once we get your scent, we never let go. I won my quarry in tonight’s Hunt. And now, you belong to me.”

Used-To-Be-Blossom screamed inside its timber “You said i’d be safe, you said I’d be loved!" 

"Really, dear,” Not-Ellie responded, “of course you’ll be loved. Much like a hunter swells with pride at the sight of his first kill, so too do I love you, Emily. Now calm yourself, before the stress affects your branches.”

The tree, bound by the True Name it gave up so freely, shuddered once, then fell silent. 

It was calm now. It was loved. And it would never be Blossom again.

Another pseudo-horror Elsewhere drabble, I guess! This one is quite a bit longer, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but it’s 3:00 in the morning and I haven’t slept in 48 hours so I might as well submit it!

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