sophiehadder-blog

[sophiehadder-blog]

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sophfarsogood: not as surly as he looks

[ @lou-bonfightme ]

[sophiehadder-blog]

In Which Sophie Talks To Hats || (Sophink)

[plans gone wrong, familiar faces, owning up, and knowing what you can do] 

This makes no sense! Part 1: In which Sophie leaves Swynlake in several directions at once Part 2: In which Tink goes to a meeting in disguise

[Recommended listening: I Go Crazy, Running up that Hill/Time after Time]

[tws: mentions of death, lil bit of violence, nm tbh]

@tink-bell

Grandma hadn’t done much sleeping the night before.

Whereas Sophie would’ve at least curled up around Tink, watched her breathe, Grandma contented herself to the chair in the far corner of the room, too all-consumed by her worry for the day to come.

(Sophie’s thoughts had snuck their way into her brain too) (far too long she had spent tucked away) (far weaker she had grown) (she couldn’t take control like she used to) (and now Sophie worried aloud) (reverberating along the insides of her own skull)

(what if the Witch caught on?) (what if this was an unnecessary risk they were taking?) (what if she recognized where Tink was from?) (what if she was sending Tink to her unfortunate demise?)

And the worst part about these awful thoughts, was that they weren’t unfounded. This was stupid, what they were doing--but if they could play this game quickly, they could be out of the city before the sun set again. It was a measured risk, you see, and one that Tink was willing to make for Sophie’s sake.

Grandma didn’t know what the girl had done to deserve someone like her. It was amazing, truly.

When the sun rose over the rooftops of Ingary, Grandma pretending that she had gotten up from bed early, busying herself in the bathroom. She made herself up, chose her finest dress, and skirted out of the way when Tink went in to get ready as well. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, their last couple moments together fleeting. Suddenly Grandma was seeing Tink off with a kiss on the cheek.

There was lingering dread in her stomach as she watched the other girl walk down the street until swallowed up by the buildings.

She tried not to think about it.

(she did anyway) (in that terrible selfish way)

One by one, she collected their articles from around the room, packing them up in their minimal luggage. She’d go down and check out at quarter past eleven, making sure to make it obvious that she wasn’t in a rush, and then the plan was to drop off the luggage at a lock box at the train station and wait for Tink at their designated spot.

If all went well, Tink would meet her there, they’d run to the station, and buy tickets for the next train out of town. It didn’t matter where it went--the goal was to lay low for a bit. Not get right back to Swynlake. Maybe, finally, they could vacation. Maybe knowing that things were going to get better would let Sophie relax.

Only time could tell.

Just as she collected the key from the mantel, the bags rose from the floor and floated lazily towards the door, bumping into it and floating a couple inches back in waiting. Her lips pressed into a thin smile. Right. Time to go.

Mrs. Bell! Good morning! Read the letters at the bottom of the stairs. Out of curtesy, Grandma ducked underneath them as she made her way over to the counter and a smiling Winthrop.

Good morning, yes, of course. She thought.

And it was a good morning--far too lovely out for the feeling she carried in her chest, but that wasn’t up to her. Winthrop smiled all the way through their brief conversation, and then she was left to carry her bags out. See that, now, was up to her.

It was a fairly short walk to the train station, where she paid two euro for a box, stashing both their cases, and then made her way out.

The rendez-vous point was in the main square. There were already decorations out in preparation for the fall festival, and so among the tourists milling about and the locals trying to go about their Tuesdays, Grandma was just another face in the crowd.

She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t just wanted to be a face in the crowd, let alone the last time she had gone somewhere and willingly announced herself. Maude would--Maude had grand entrances like that. She’d burst in with a grin and a plan, and Sophie had just never ever inherited any of that. It had to be a trait of her mother’s. She couldn’t really remember those, and her father was too quiet of a man for it to be from him. It was easy to see, but painful to think about. Especially when she was this close to the shop.

It’d be easy to slip away from the little cafe where she sat and go visit. Pretend she wasn’t anyone. Maybe wordlessly buy a hat.

But she had to wait in case Tink came back.

When the wait got long, she bought herself a second tea.

When the lunch crowd rolled in, she was grateful for her older appearance, giving her something of the clueless look.

“Everything alright?” Asked the waiter.

Grandma barely raised her eyebrows, nodding. “Though--could I get another tea, please, thank you.”

And that was that.

(meanwhile Sophie ran rampant inside her brain) (this was too long) (there was no reason Tink should be gone this long) (something had to have happened) (the Witch was cunning) (she should’ve never let her go alone) (Howl had told them to stick together and she was too fucking stupid to listen) (Tink was going to get hurt, and it was all her fault) (this curse would never be broken) (and she’d lose the person she cared most about in the process) (she wouldn’t even be able to show her face in Swynlake again after this) (people would wonder) (Sophie would have to lay low) (she could never be herself again) (Grandma would be a permanent fixture) (goodbye Sophie Hadder) (and goodnight)

As the afternoon ticked forwards, and the lunch crowd petered out, Grandma became acutely aware of the looks she was getting from the staff. An old lady spending her mornings in a little cafe wasn’t unheard of, but four hours was a long time, wasn’t it? And she hadn’t even thought to bring a book. Was she ill? Lost? Confused? It wasn’t the kind of impression Grandma wanted to be leaving, considering the plan had be to leave no impression at all.

Leave--was the obvious answer. It built in obviousness like the sweat on her brow. Leave, Sophie said. Something’s wrong, can’t you feel that something’s wrong?

She could. It felt like a stiff wind blowing through the door of the cafe as someone entered. Grandma looked back over her shoulder, prepared for the worst, ready to run if the Witch came in, hunting her down, but it was just--Maude.

Maude, looking older than she ever had, looking wiser, too, a single streak of grey running down the front of her hair. Just like dad. It was still short, short like it always had been, and she looked--god, so tired.

Grandma’s heart ached, at how close she was. How easy it’d be to reach out, to say hello, and how all at once, impossible it was.

They were so close to the ending that she could see the finish line standing right in front of her, waiting in line to order a coffee, and yet there was still so much in her way.

She was gonna go find Tink.

Her chair creaked backwards, and she finally stood, barely noticing the sitting aches as she nodded her thanks to the waitress and made her way out the door without so much as a second look back at Maude. Her confidence could not waiver. Not right now.

By the time she found herself in front of the Witch’s shop, the sun had started to descend as if a counterpoint to Grandma’s own rising anxieties. It was a terrible balancing game, is what it was. The longer she waited, the worst it would get.

Her shoe made a hollow sound on the first step, and the door swung open.

(this was a bad idea) (her stupidity had gotten her in this mess) (if she had just listened) (if she had just been brave enough to go herself the first time) (if she hadn’t been so willing to put Tink in harm’s way) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

Even from the sidewalk, Grandma could see that the interior of the townhouse extended far beyond the physical restraints of the building it was supposed to encompass. A sorcerer’s trick--like Howl’s. It meant even if she tried to get out once she was in, there’d be no saying where that door would spit her back out.

(stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

Grandma walked up, and, as expected, the moment she stepped past the threshold, the door closed behind her. Not loudly with a bang, but rather a slow, mocking creak.

“Tink?” She called out, hovering in the doorway just a moment before pressing on. The hall was dark, light only by the sun filtering through the curtains. Dust hung in the air, speckling the way forwards. The house was quiet save for Grandma’s own footsteps and a--ringing somewhere off in the distance.

Seeing as she had apparently thrown subtlety out the window, it was as good of a place as any to start.

Continuing down the hall, rooms opened up along the side with every door she passed. A library as tall as the sky was high, a dining room with tables set for forty, a grand atrium, with windows letting in all the afternoon light, all of them empty and covered in the same layer of dust as everything else.

Looked like the Witch hadn’t entertained company in a long time. No surprise with her manners, Grandma thought. Though she made sure not to think it too loud. Witches, you know?

As Grandma approached the last set of doors at the end of the hallway, it was clear it was the only place the ringing could be coming from.

Stopping, she peered as best as she could through the crack in the door.

It swung open as soon as she got her nose near it. Should’ve seen that one coming.

(stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

“Sophie, dear. Why don’t you come have a drink?” Said the Witch, though Grandma couldn’t make her out amongst the chairs. A full bar had opened up in front of her, great hearths on either end, decorated in dark woods and brass embellishments. Any darker and she would’ve sworn she was in the Deer.

She stepped in, the door closed behind her, this time with a mighty bam.

“I’ve no interest in a drink.” Grandma replied, cautious as ever.

“Well that’s rude, what are you doing in a bar, then?”

“I’ve come to--to collect my fairy.”

“Your fairy?” Cackled the Witch, Grandma whipped her head around in an attempt to make out where the sound was coming from. “She seems to be quite enjoying herself here, I dare to say you don’t have any authority.”

The Witch stood, creaking the chair she had been sitting on and drawing Grandma’s attention to one of the hearth’s on the far side of the room. The ringing seemed to be coming from there as well, but she couldn’t make out what it was.

“Good god. Look at you. I really--wow, I really did a good job there, didn’t I? You don’t look a day over a hundred.” Said the Witch as she paced towards Grandma. Instead of skirting around chairs, the chairs made room for her, clearing a straight path right to Grandma, who didn’t budge. “No wonder you went to Howl to clear this up, not that it worked, did it?”

“You know what happened--”

“Yes! Oh yes! I do! It was wonderful, truly, I had a good laugh afterwards.” She brought a hand to her chest, as if mimicking sincerity. “Going to Howl to break a curse, I love it. It’s novel really. I was nearly certain you’d never come back, actually. Why are you here?”

In a flash, the Witch held up a finger.

“Another rhetorical. I know why. You were counting on this, weren’t you?”

Grandma didn’t even need to look at the form in her hand to know that the amulet was there.

“I was, and I will be needing it back.” Grandma replied.

The Witch’s face twisted in confusion, if only for a brief moment.

“You’re no fun. But, see, I have something to fix that.” The Witch said.

Grandma shivered, though the room was unbearably hot, and by the time she had begun to realize what was going on, the Witch smiled.

“Now that’s much better! She giveth and she taketh away--now, girl, why don’t you tell me what you want with that lovely stutter of yours, and we’ll see how easy it is to go around demanding things.”

Sophie clutched at her skirt, hands curling into the fabric on instinct to stop her from looking so visibly shaken. It was a little tactic--in fact the only one she had left now that their plan had been blown wide open.

“I-I-I- u-um… Y-You-- you-- you-- you-- y-you’re g-going t-to g-give m-me the-- the-- the-- the--”

The Witch grimaced.

“I give you the amulet and then what? You take it back to your little Howl, and he breaks the curse, and you live happily ever after? Move back in with your sisters?” She scoffed. “You think everything’s well and good now? That if you were to stay I’d just leave you alone?”

(stupid) (she was stupid) (she had been thinking exactly that) (cause she was an optimistic fool) (if she tricked the Witch there’d be a bounty on her head) (as if there hadn’t already been one there) (all she was doing was putting her family in more danger) (wasn’t she?)

The Witch could see these thoughts writhing around in Sophie’s head, they peeked out of ears like a black fog, dampened the brightness of the room, all the while thrilling the Witch where she stood. Self-doubt was a beautiful thing, you see, and powerful no less.

Sophie watched as she swung the amulet in her hand lazily, flaunting her comfort, her control.

It stopped--all of a sudden, and when Sophie looked away from it, the Witch’s eyes were piercing right into her, staring her down with the fury of a centuries old grudge. It was nearly enough to make her turn around right then and there, but she found that she couldn’t move.

“Do you even know why I cursed you in the first place?” Crowed the Witch.

That was another way to undo a curse. Not any curse, mind you, curses of passion couldn’t be undone this way, especially if the motives were obvious, but it was good insight all the same. Insight that Sophie did not have.

She thought back to that dreadful night. She tried to piece together something, anything the Witch had been saying, but it had been buried too far down for her to know.

(she had waited too long) (she hadn’t written anything down) (she had a plan for this) (but she hadn’t taken into account the last two years) (what she might’ve lost in that time)

Sophie didn’t know, and by the look in her eyes, the Witch could tell. She closed her hand around the amulet, scowling.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I-It d-doesn’t m-matter if-- if-- if-- if-- what’s d-done is d-do--”

“It doesn’t matter?” Barked the Witch. “I wish it didn’t matter. I wish what was done is done--but it’s not. And it does. Which is why I can’t let you leave with this.” She opened her hand once more, the amulet glinting in the light. She took a step forwards then, turning her head slightly as if to peer at Sophie from another angle, taking her all in. “I have a job to do. And clearly you don’t understand that for as long as you’re here, I am not doing my job.”

She paused then, shaking her head.

“Do you know why your mother died?”

Sophie didn’t move.

(childbirth) (she had gotten sick) (and died because of childbirth) (hadn’t she?) (Maude had taken a toll on her body) (she was sick) (she had just gotten sick) (right?)

“Magic is a… Sensitive thing, here in Ingary, girl, and this town does a fine job of hiding it, but maintaining a balance is a difficult thing. No one family can be too powerful. No one person can have too much control. The Hadders had been a blip on our radar for a long time--and with the birth of your sister, that blip suddenly grew tenfold. Your mother wasn’t meant to die, that’s never the goal, she was just standing in the way of balance. ”

Now imagine a mother, a sorceress by trade with two beautiful girls. Two daughters is a dangerous thing in itself, but grant them the abilities of their family line, and suddenly they’re not just a family. For a town like Ingary, power like that is a danger. It can lead to unfortunate thins, and in the end, sometimes it’s just better to nip things at the bud before they can devolve.

On the third day of Maude’s little life, the Witch of the Waste paid a visit to Angele Hadder in the hospital.

“Your child.” She’d said. “The council sent me about your child.”

“No.” Angele replied. “You won’t take her from me--I won’t let you.”

“Not her.” The Witch had corrected. “I don’t want her. Just her magic.”

“Take mine instead.”

Whether the outcome was planned or not, balanced had been achieved. With Maude and Sophie left, the Hadder blip had been brought back down to size.

“Y-You k-killed h-her.” Sophie bit out.

“I took her magic.” The Witch replied. “If she had listened, she’d still be here.”

(Angele was like Maude) (they both had a bite) (a ferociousness) (they could take the Witch) (why was Sophie the one standing here) (attempting this of all things)

“S-so-- so-- so-- w-why c-come after me?”

“It was never my plan.” The Witch continued, taking another step forwards. “That sister of yours was always too big for her britches. She was fine for a while, but now more so than ever, she’s progressing at an alarming rate. I needed to knock her down a peg before your family became dangerous. As it happened--the magic was shared. A Hadder’s a Hadder. If I can’t take hers, there’s always yours. And that’s just what I plan to do once i rid myself of this amulet, do you understand that, girl? Or must I repeat myself? I’m not looking for a fight, but if you are, know that you won’t win.”

(she wouldn’t) (it was true) (Sophie was weak) (and she wa pathetic) (and most of all, she was scared) (scared of what the Witch would do to finish her job) (scared of what this would mean for her) (for her sister)

(at the end of the day) (Sophie could never do much) (it was why she made hats) (it was why she had run away)

(it was why she was always destined to fail)

The Witch would do as she pleased no matter what Sophie tried.

The Witch is set in her ways, dear, said Grandma, deep down in the recesses of her mind. Then again--maybe it was just Sophie. That’s not a bad thing.

Sophie blinked.

“You-- you-- you d-don’t want t-to destroy t-that amulet.” She said.

“And why not?” Replied the Witch, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“B-Because it’s-- it’s-- it’s--d-dangerous. Volatile. It’ll--it’ll-- h-hurt you.”

The Witch rolled her eyes, turning away from Sophie completely then, and moving towards the bar. One of the ashtrays slid from the far end towards her.

“It’s-- it’s-- it’s-- t-terribly powerful!” Continued Sophie. “It’ll turn you-- you-- you-- you-- straight to d-dust if you l-let all of that p-power o-out.”

“Shut up, girl.” Said the Witch, setting the amulet down on the bar and reaching for the ashtray.

“D-Dangerous.” Sophie repeated. “Powerful. Volatile. Explosive. Dangerous. Powerful. Volatile. Explosive.”

The Witch brought the ashtray down on the amulet and it shattered, sending out a shockwave of energy.

Thrown backwards, Sophie hit the wall with a heavy thud--and she lay pinned there for one, two, three, four moments until the last of the blast had passed.

At first, she couldn’t see. Her eyes at first closed, and then obscured with such heavy watering that the room was blurry into a mist-like cloud. All she could see was the light coming in through the now-open window.

I’ve died, she thought, this is it.

And then she sucked in a ragged breath, both of her lungs screaming, aching for air. It was mostly dust, at first, but it cleared after dragging a sleeve over her face. Some parts were raw with cuts, but she was most certainly, most definitely alive.

And if her eyes were still any good at all--the Witch was not.

The whole room was covered in greyish, brownish dust, from the bartop, to the chairs, to the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor.

The room was deadly quiet now as Sophie rose to her feet, the blast having stopped all of the clocks on the walls, and seemingly stunned any noise coming from outside. It was quiet in her head, too. No elderly cheering to be found. Not a single syllable of congratulations. It was still, save for Sophie’s own breathing, and that… Ringing from before. It was clear that it was coming from where the Witch had once sat.

In front of the fireplace was a nook meant for conversations-- a couple chairs, a table in the middle, and a glass with a slowly spinning spoon, keeping pace to all of the madness. Next to it: a fairy, transfixed.

Tink was dusty, but she was live. Sophie could see her breathing. Tink was alive. Sophie was alive. The Witch was dead. She was dead, and neither of them were and she had done it. It was done. They were done.

Sophie moved forwards, and carefully plucked the spoon from the glass. Nothing natural moved on it’s own like that, and frankly, Sophie didn’t want anything to do with it. The effect was almost immediate.

“Tink?” She said. “A-Are you-- you-- you-- you okay? I-It’s done-- i-it’s over.”

[sophiehadder-blog]

In which Tink goes to a meeting in disguise || (Sophink)

[In which the plan is put into action, and Tink bites off more than she can chew]

This makes no sense! Part 1: In which Sophie leaves Swynlake in several directions at once

[tws: uh, slimy witches, some bad thoughts, uh, hypnotism, nothing too graphic or anything]

@tink-bell

TINK

For the record, Tink did not absolutely hate this plan. It wasn’t even a bad plan. She thought it was pretty good, honestly. Going to the Witch of the Waste to find help for the one thing she hadn’t been able to fix was doable. Hell, it was even believable. Because, yeah, Tink really did want her wings fixed. They were the one part of her that really made her feel like a fairy. Without them all she had was tinkering and she’d never considered that much of a talent. Anyone could turn scraps into something else. It wasn’t a fairy trait. Not like some of the others.

Those thoughts swirled around her as she made her way through the town of Ingary. Just like before she couldn’t help but marvel at all that was around her. It almost seemed like everyone in the town had magic of some sort and not a single one of them were afraid to flaunt it. And again it made her wish for magic of her own. Something more than two broken wings and a knack for tinkering.

Grandma had told her where to go, she had told her what to say. Tink had even practiced it in the mirror as she got ready that morning. Before she’d put her tattered shirt on and let her mangled wings slip free from the holes in the back. The broken fairy had tried her hardest not to look at them as she pinned her hair up and lined her eyes perfectly. She’d even given Grandma the brightest smile she could muster before making her way from the room.

All of that brought her up to this moment. The moment of truth she was calling it. Her fist knocked on the door, three rapid knocks, and then she took a step back, attempting to look as forlorn as possible for when the witch inevitably opened the door.

THE WITCH

There was always something about Ingary’s air early in the morning. It brimmed with possibility, and fright. Yes, you see, air could be afraid. When you thought about it, it wasn’t really that surprising, either. For everywhere that it was, for all it heard, no wonder the air was afraid. It knew when things were about to happen, it could guess better than most on the outcomes.

This morning, the air was afraid.

It coaxed forwards the tattered fairy who walked on early. It ignored the glances she got from the passersby, the ones unaccustomed to such a sight, because Ingary was not Swynlake. Rarely ever did the magic here get out of whack. Rarely here did things ever go poorly. The air knew this wasn’t true.

It lingered when she knocked on the door. It willed the noise to go unheard, the halls to be unroamed, but it knew the outcome of that too.

The door creaked open, and behind it the terrible woman with a gorgeous smile.

The Witch raised an eyebrow, tilting her head and jostling her wiry hair at the fairy on her doorstep.

“I don’t take appointments on Sundays. In fact, it’s very rude for you to be here but--” She purred, her eyes narrowing. Intrigue, was the look. “You are not a regular customer, are you? I can see it all around. Who might you be, exactly?”

TINK

No matter how much Sophie and Tink had talked about this exact moment, nothing prepared her for the feeling she got when the door opened and the Witch appeared before her. In that moment Tink wanted to doubt their plan because this woman was… She was nasty. The fairy could feel the evil coming off of her.

But they had a plan and Tink wasn’t going to fail.

She squared her shoulders, held her head high despite her broken wings and her secret wish. This Witch wasn’t going to shame her for doing what she wanted. She wouldn’t let her.

“I apologize,” she started with, looking to the Witch apologetically (or as apologetically as she could knowing who and what this woman was). “I heard about you… About how powerful you are and how you might be able to help.” It was an embellishment, only meant to get the Witch to want to allow her in. Flattery was always the way to a sorcerer’s heart. Especially one like this.

“My town… someone summoned a demon around April Fool’s.” Just the thought of it made her eyes water as she thought back on what happened in that strange apocalyptic event. “One of the things he created did this. She--- It ripped off my wing over and over and over. It never healed.” She turned partially and showed off the one wing that was more a half formed stump now. “And the other-- I don’t remember exactly. It was… Some man. He-- He got off on it. On mutilating me.” This time her tears did fall and she wiped at them and drew in a shaky breath. “Please… Please fix them. Fix me. I’ll do anything.”

THE WITCH

Now, the Witch was wily. The air knew that. They knew she was unkind, and stubborn, but it also knew she was curious, like a bird drawn to shiny things. She looked over the fairy’s wings with muted interest, like she was something that could be added to a collection.

And she was. Despair, sorrow, pain, pixie dust, these were all potent things with many many different uses. It wasn’t the first time the Witch had come across someone like the fairy, though every time felt like it. If she could brim with anything at all, maybe it’d be delight at such a sight. That being said--her glass was undoubtedly half-empty.

The corners of her mouth curled up into a tight-lipped smile, masked and brightened by her own magic so as to look sincere. She peered down at the fairy like a school teacher might a malnourished student; with concern, and a job to do.

“It’s not everyday i make exceptions like these, dear, but come in,” At once the door swung open further, and the Witch stepped aside to reveal the sprawling mansion behind the glamour of her outwards townhouse. “Please, take a seat. I’ll assess, we can discuss your situation. And it’ll be--all sorted. You’ve come to the right place.

TINK

It would be a lie to say that a small sense of relief passed through Tink as the Witch invited her in. It would be an even bigger lie to say that it had only to do with the fact that so far the plan was going well. A small part of her had truly hoped that the Witch would be able to fix her broken wings. That maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to fly again. It didn’t matter that she knew this woman was evil and terrible. That she cursed people for no reason at all.

Hope was a silly thing like that, you know.

Still, Tink followed the Witch in easily and sat on the actually very comfortable seat. It was exactly the kind she’d want for her office. Probably not what she should be thinking about in that moment but it was true. If she made it out of this (she was only fairly certain she would), she would buy ten chairs like these.

“Have you dealt with a lot of fairies like me?” She asked after a moment of settling and looking around. The mansion was filled with interesting and terrifying odds and ends. Everything you expected to find in an evil witch’s home. It made Tink’s skin prickle, thinking that maybe she’d end up one of those little trinkets on a shelf.

She let her gaze find the Witch’s again, eyes wide and almost doe like. An attempt at innocence. “I’ve always heard there’s deals that go with these kinds of things. Is--- Is that true?”

THE WITCH

The walls of shelves, row upon row of them, stacked all the way to the ceiling, all the way down the hall, shuddered in some sort of recognition, and at once, jars began to fly off of them. The Witch meandered around the room, glancing about, concerning herself far more with what was going on in the air then the fairy behind her. She already knew everything she needed to know.

It wasn’t a matter of who, let alone what or how just--when.

Those jars glided down and landed on the bar counter up against the parlour wall, in its very own space carved out amongst the shelves. A bottle of absinthe floated up from out of the cabinet under the little table and settled itself among the jars, a single solution in which to mix solvents.

It was a misconception, actually, to associate Witches with cauldrons or bonfires. Some still preferred those methods--your local kitchen witch wouldn’t be caught dead without a large pot in which to brew--but the same magic could be done in a tumbler. The higher society preferred cocktails, and if you wanted to be a Witch of the highest society, you learned to adapt.

“It is true, and it is untrue, child.” Replied the Witch. A chair floated her way, and raised slightly to catch her descent. She sat, finally peering at the fairy once more. “It depends on the case. Some Witches fancy themselves doctors, others are more nefarious in their purposes it is all… Relative.”

She tilted her head to the side, glancing at the bar. A lone spoon turned in it’s glass, stirring nothing.

“But in your case--for such a tragic predicament--some kind of… Deal, to use your words, would be necessary, yes. You must understand, girl, that I’m not your everyday Witch. You have come to the right place indeed, and right places are not often cheap. And now, my prices are my own, of course, and perhaps… Perhaps you have not come prepared. I tend to the likes of kings and queens, diplomats, and celebrities, and they--know better than to disturb me on a Sunday.” She raised an eyebrow, taunting. “Since you were unaware, how am I to assume you know my prices, see, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

TINK

Everything about this read ominous and a sliver of that feeling was beginning to churn in Tink’s stomach. This Witch wasn’t like Howl. She wasn’t like anyone Tink had met. Of course, Tink had never come to a witch or a wizard for any sort of help like that. Her problems were her own and if she truly needed something she went home. There wasn’t anything like fairy dust and the skilled hands of a nurse talent fairy.

But even the nurse talent fairies hadn’t been able to fix her wings. After everything they’d done all they could give her were sad looks and apologies. It was shitty for Tink but it had helped in formulating this plan.

Tink ignored the feeling for now, instead focusing on the way everything seemed to come alive as the Witch moved. Jars flying from the shelves, different bottles following it. She even caught sight of the bottle of absinthe; the sight of which still made her throat incredibly dry simply from the want of alcohol.

“I’m sorry… for disturbing you. I didn’t— I didn’t know. They just told me to see you. That you could help. And I didn’t want to wait. It’s been months since I was able to fly, to feel like a fairy.” Her words came out softly as she looked towards the Witch. “As for cost or.. or deals, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. Whatever the cost. I just want to fly again.”

THE WITCH

“I know what I want.” The Witch replied, lips pursed. “Or rather--I know what I could take. You may not see it, but you have a lot to give, little fairy.”

She glanced lazily to the side, and at once the jars on the table slid onto the little cart that matched seamlessly with the set. The spinning spoon set the beat, one jar, then another, then another, the bottle of absinthe, until everything was precariously placed on the cart. The spoon counted in its own movement, and the moment it was settled, the cart began to glide forwards. It skirted around the two chairs, and settled in the middle of the rug, equi-distance between the fairy and the witch.

“But that’s no fun, see--” She leaned forwards in her seat, bringing a hand up to rest under her chin. “I believe I’ve already made it quite clear that this isn’t a normal business venture, so name your price.”

She paused, the spoon continued to twirl.

“Tell me what you think is worth your flight, and if I agree, I’ll grant it to you. If I don’t, you have to sweeten the pot. And--if you think you’ve nothing to give, we can go over my own terms.”

The Witch crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair once more, a real queen on her throne.

“Go ahead.”

TINK

From the beginning Tink knew that this was going to be a tricky encounter to navigate. Her and Sophie hadn’t really rehearsed any sort of dialogue, any possible terms. Something that seemed sort of silly now that Tink looked back on it. But there was nothing to be done and she had a strong feeling that no amount of rehearsing could have prepared her for this witch.

Her eyes fixated on the spoon, watching it almost curiously as it spun around and around; it’s pace never speeding up or slowing.

The Witch spoke and Tink listened, wondering just what she should offer. She knew nothing of regeants or even what a witch would want. She wasn’t like the fairies back home. Didn’t have a talent like speed or light or anything. All she had was her tinkering ability. What value did that have in the grand scheme of things? None, in her opinion. All she really had were her earthly possessions. The things she’d brought to Ingary with her.

Round and around the spoon went.

“I-- Uh. Well. I have my talent. I’m a tinker fairy. But I don’t know how interesting that would be. Or if you’d even want it.” Her eyes never left the spoon. “I would trade my talent for my flight. Or-- if you want something more physical I have things I could part with. Things with sentimental value. I’ll give anything to fly again.”

THE WITCH

The jars on the cart in the middle of the room began to shake ever-so-slightly, as if the momentum of the spoon was rocking the cart, or the earth, itself. But it wasn’t. Those were special jars you see, magic jars, hermetically sealed to keep and seek the finest purest regents. They could tell something was brewing. This fairy, judging by the glassy look in her eyes, could not.

Pity for her.

The witch narrowed her eyes, barely giving the fiary any inkling as to her thought process. The moment dragged on, perhaps she was letting it do so on purpose. To see. To test.

Nothing shifted, the spoon kept spinning.

“Anything?” She echoed, unimpressed. People always said they’d give anything, but this was rarely ever true. Anything could mean a lot of things.

“I want the amulet around your neck.” She replied, thin lips curling into a smile. “Seems to me it’s not even yours to begin with, is it?”

TINK

There was a voice in the farthest part of Tink’s mind that screamed ‘NO!’ at the Witch’s words. It was the part of Tinker Bell that knew she couldn’t let go of the amulet because of its importance. Without it Sophie wouldn’t be able to break her curse. They wouldn’t be able to start their life of adventure. Without that amulet that had steadily been gathering magic from the Witch, nothing would change and this entire trip would be for nothing.

But that voice was so faint, so quiet, that it was just barely a whisper. Drowned out by the Witch and by Tink’s other thoughts. Thoughts of having her wings and being a proper fairy again.

Unconsciously her hand went to the amulet around her neck, fingers playing over it’s smooth surface slowly. “No… it’s— it’s my girlfriend’s,” she gave a soft smile at the mention of Sophie. “She loved flying, you know.” As she spoke her hands drifted to the back of her neck, her fingers fiddling with the clasp until she was able to pull the chain from around her neck.

“I think that’s the first thing I’ll do once you’ve fixed me. Take her flying again. She’ll love that.”

THE WITCH

It all clicked into place, and the Witch stood from her seat. It creaked like a wretched thing, both the seat itself and the floorboards under her weight, but she paid no mind, eyes dead set on the amulet in the fairy’s hand instead.

She plucked it from her fingers without any fuss, the chain sliding out of her loose grasp. Her attention was elsewhere, you see, and the spoon still wrung around the rim of the glass, ringing and intoxicating from afar. She held the amulet up to the light, watching as her own magic pooled inside of it, growing in colour at her touch, swirling like the dust in the air. It grew and it grew until it nearly eclipsed the small flicker of green that had been there before. It didn’t go unrecognized. The witch knew what to expect. She had known since the two girls had come to town the other day, foolish in their plots and lazy in their disguises.

“Something tells me that that won’t be case.” She said, finally pocketing the amulet somewhere in the folds of her dress. She turned, then, back to peer down at her stunned visitor. “Fairies make fine pets, you know. I suppose even if your girl’s the coward I know, this might still be worthwhile to me.”

The Witch laughed, shaking her head as she skirted around the edge of the chair.

“Worthwhile, worthwhile, nothing’s ever worthwhile. Nothing. And you’ve been played for a fool if you think otherwise.” She stopped in the doorway to the parlour, glancing back over her shoulder. She laughed. “Now, stay here. We’ll see how this pans out before the day is done. And--if you’re nice, maybe you’ll earn yourself a drink.”

[sophiehadder-blog]

In which Sophie leaves Swynlake in several directions at once || (Sophink)

[The end begins, and Sophie and Tink end up in beautiful Ingary.]

[tws: none! yay]

@tink-bell

GRANDMA

13 hours in a train was a lot of time, even for people who weren’t afraid they might turn into a different version of themselves halfway through the ride. Grandma couldn’t remember how exactly she had done this the first time, but she knew for a fact that it hadn’t felt like this. The lingering anxiety had been a fear for her own life, and yet this time it was more real. Maybe because she was headed towards the danger with easily the most important person in Sophie’s life on her arm.

The parts inside of her waged a silent war trying to figure out whether or not this was a bad idea. Regardless--it was happening. She stepped off of the train silently with her suitcase in one hand, ignoring the attendants offering to help.

Looking around, the train station didn’t harken back to the last time she had been here. There had been too much rushing for her to appreciate the simple beauty of it. No, looking around she was reminded of sending Maude off on the first morning of her apprenticeship, or boarding with Celine to bring her to Bern. The weight of those memories was nearly as heavy as the rest of it.

As they exited the train station onto the street, Grandma lead Tink towards the edge of town, where the rolling hills were visible in the distance over the tops of the buildings, and the crowd of tourists and locals alike peetered out into a meager ebb.

“That street leads you all the way down to Town Square.” Grandma said, just barely pointing it out to Tink as they passed by. “And my family’s shop is on the other side, but we’ll be sticking to the outskirts. Our bed and breakfast isn’t far from here.”

TINK

Ingary in t-minus thirteen hours left a strange feeling in Tink’s stomach. Sitting next to Grandma on that train ride was an even stranger feeling. It wasn’t hard to admit that she had missed the woman. For as long as she’d known Sophie, she’d known Grandma. Hell, it had been this older version of that she’d first met almost… what was it, two years now? It felt like much longer. But that’s how most of her dearest relationships felt after a while.

Sophie and Grandma were no exception to that rule.

The only issue was that even though it had been so long since Tink had first met them, she had no idea how to act around the other anymore. She was used to Sophie. The young girl she’d curl into on the train, trade soft kisses because this was a dangerous and important thing they were doing. She couldn’t exactly do that with Grandma. She did sit there, though, knee bouncing up and down as she itched to reach out to the older woman.

It only stopped once the train did, the pair exiting after grabbing their bags. Just enough for the duration of the trip. Considerably less than any other trip they’d been on. In place of the fidgeting, Tink took to looking around, examining Ingary and those around her. It was… It was as pretty as Sophie had described it and so much calmer than Swynlake. “Is it weird? Being back and so close?” She found herself asking, looking over to Grandma curiously.

GRANDMA

Grandma nodded silently. The words to describe how she felt had eluded her since they had crossed the border into Switzerland. Up until then she could list off how she felt in a couple bullet points: nervous, scared, anxious, uncertain. But as those dots on the horizon had come back into view, she wasn’t so sure.

Disembarking at the station had only made things worse. What if someone recognized her? What if the Witch could sense her coming? (there was no doubt in her mind that this was the case, she just hoped the Witch would have a mind enough about her to not come looking) What if she ran into one of her sisters? What if she shifted in the middle of the street and someone saw her before she could run off? What if this was all in vain?

It didn’t do her any good to think about this--so if nothing else, she wouldn’t let Tink be overcome by the same worries.

“It’s… Odd, yes. Everything feels so familiar but it’s been so long that I can’t really tell if I’m entitled to feel as though I’m home.” She supplied, carefully navigating around another person that passed them by. “It’s almost unsettling, in a way. I’ll be grateful when we get to where we’re staying.”

TINK:

Tink definitely understood that. It was how she felt any time she made her way back to the Hollow. It was her home, yeah. But she so seldom visited anymore. There were just too many things anchoring her to the world outside. So much adventure and excitement. Sophie was there. She’d never be able to get in the Hollow and that meant that the Hollow didn’t hold much for one Tinker Bell anymore. It hadn’t for a long time.

She never thought she’d be like Grandma or Sophie. Coming back to a place that had once been home and dear. A place that held so many different memories.

It was why she listened as Grandma spoke, taking in each detail as they walked. “I think… no matter how long it’s been or what the circumstances are… it’s still your home. More than Swynlake, anyways.” She looked over to Grandma with a soft smile. This time she didn’t hesitate as she reached out to grab her hand, squeezing it in reassurance. To the people that passed by them it would seem just like a granddaughter sharing a simple moment with her grandmother. Tink and Grandma knew that it went deeper than that. That, yes, this was a special moment but that the motion went deeper than just them. It was meant for Sophie too, who Tink knew had her own hang ups with coming back to Ingary. With wanting to come home but being too scared to, too worried that she wouldn’t be welcomed there anymore.

“It’s not much farther, is it?”

GRANDMA

She took solace in Tink’s outstretched hand--and so did Sophie, louder than usual inside her head, but quiet in that moment. The poor girl still didn’t quite know how to react to all of this. It was one thing to plan out a trip, to be certain in your future actions, it was a different thing entirely to actually go through with them. It was no easy feat. Grandma supposed that that was why she was there. Besides being an excellent disguise, she was also that last little push.

Everyone needed a push every once in a while.

As it stood, Sophie was steadily falling off the cliff from which she had been pushed. Landing scheduled for sometime in the next couple days. Tomorrow, if all went well. The day after if something happened. But nothing would.

No, nothing would.

She gave Tink’s hand one last squeeze and nodded, letting go.

“Should be just around the corner, if they haven’t switched up the street names since the last time I’ve been. In fact--” She craned her neck to the side, and just barely peeking around the corner, she could make out the yellow window shutters on the place where they’d be staying.

A couple more steps and it pulled right into view, looming over the cobblestone street.

“My family stayed there once when the shop was under renovation. We seem to have the terrible habit of not being able to separate work from home, and so fixing up put the whole place out of commission. Oh! Would you check and make sure I put our confirmation papers in your bag. I didn’t trust myself enough to put them in mine.”

TINK

The cozy bed and breakfast loomed into view and Tink couldn’t help but think it was quaint. If the knowledge of what they were actually here to do wasn’t swimming around in her head already, she’d think it was the perfect little getaway. It’d be like Brighton all over. They’d find things to do, take tons of pictures, just really enjoy themselves.

But this wasn’t Brighton and it wasn’t Sophie she was walking next to. (Except that it was Sophie. Just a version of Sophie that many others didn’t know about.)

As she dug around in her bag she couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. Hearing little stories about Sophie’s family was always something that took the fairy by surprise. As the trip has loomed closer there had been more anecdotes that slipped past Sophie’s lips. Each one intriguing in its own way and giving Tink an even better picture of the girl she’d fallen in love with. Hearing this one just made her chuckle because it was very clear that it was a family trait.

“Got them!” She exclaimed after another moment of digging in her bag. How Grandma or Sophie had thought she’d be the best to hold onto such important papers, she’d never know. Tink was terrible with organization. Simba had reorganized her filing cabinets at Pixie’s more than once (and had given her grief about them more than that) and no matter what he did they always reverted back to her hellish and scattered organizational patterns. The confirmation for their room was no different. Buried somewhere at the bottom of her bag and wrinkled. But at least she had them.

GRANDMA

Grandma smiled warmly at Tink just as they crossed the last street and reached the entrance of the bed and breakfast. It was a cozy little thing, but not so small as to not have a front desk, one that she could already make out through the glass of the front door.

The young man behind the desk had a phone caught between his shoulder and his ear, as he furiously scribbled something down out of sight, but he still smiled when he saw them. With his one free hand, he beckoned them in, and before Grandma could even reach for the handle, the doors were swinging open for them to pass through.

“Nononononono I understand.” The man blathered, though not to them. “Yes, absolutely, of course, if you give me your contact information, I can send that over right away--mhm, yup.”

There was a quiet ringing in the air, that made Grandma’s lips split into a smile. She turned to look at Tink, eyebrows raising, as if to silently say watch.

A flicker of light appeared in the air above the man, not un-flame-like in nature, but decidedly not giving off any warmth. It moved and trailed as the man continued to speak.

“Yeah, of course Mr. Lebowitz, again we do appreciate your patronage.” He said.

So sorry! The letters spelled out. Welcome to Guiding Light bed and breakfast, I promise this call won’t take much longer, in the meantime if you have your documents we can get the sign-in process started.

Grandma motioned for Tink to set the papers down on the counter and in a flash of light they were gone.

The Bells! Welcome to Ingary! We greatly appreciate your stay here at the Guiding Light, you’ve come to the right place--you won’t find anything more authentic in town.

“Goodness, yes, and good day to you, sir.” The man concluded, and let go of the phone, which fell down perfectly and landed in the receiver with a kathunk.

At once the yellow scrawl above him disappeared and he turned to the two of them.

“I’m so sorry about that, ladies, you know how it is, people always want what they can’t have. Now! Oh, let me introduce myself, my name is Winthrop--and you must be Tinker and Sophie Bell, yes? It’s a pleasure. Tinker, I believe we may have spoken on the phone, yes?”

TINK

Ingary was so different than Swynlake. It seemed more magical, if one could dare to say that. Even as the doors opened (without even their touch!!) Tink could feel the magic in the air. It tingled along her skin, raising her hair just slightly. God this was so cool.

With the clerk on the phone the fairy was resigned to wait until he finished with whoever he was on the phone with. That planned changed only a little when Grandma looked towards Tink with very familiar look on her features. Again, Tink turned back to the man and waited only a moment before the truly remarkable happened. Words appeared over his head as if what he was trying to telepathically convey to them had been transcribed. The light emitted a soft glow as the words hung in the air just long enough for Tink to set the papers on the counter before they too were gone in a flash of light.

Tink wanted to swear because what else were you supposed to do in a situation like this? When you were able to witness something so completely amazing? She contained herself, though, waiting instead to gush about this whole thing until they were in their room.

“—Right, yeah. We did. You can just call me Tink, though, Winthrop,” she couldn’t help but grin at him. It was official now. They were in Ingary. They were in Sophie’s hometown. “What all did you need from us again?”

GRANDMA

Grandma hesitated to speak--uncertain of how exactly to navigate this fictitious relationship they had fabricated themselves into. She couldn’t wait to lock herself upstairs and sprawl out in bed, rest once more before the worst arrived.

(she’d be so nervous she wouldn’t sleep for days)

But first, Winthrop.

He smiled, almost as brightly as the lights previously above his head, and made appear a single sheet and pen on the countertop in front of them.

“Tink, yes, of course, my apologies--all I need from you now is a signature here to confirm your arrival, and the lights will take your baggage and guide you up to your room.” He chuckled a little then. Grandma rolled her eyes, but stepped forwards to sign regardless. Guiding lights. Cute.

Just as the pen left paper at the end of her signature, the blue bag that had been sitting on the floor at her side raised into the air slightly, Tink’s own bag following suit, gently tugging the other girl towards the staircase.

“Excellent!” Winthrop clapped and the paper disappeared. “You’ll find the keys to your room in the pocket of your jacket--and problems just give us a ring or come down to the front. There’s always someone at the desk!”

A flash of  light. He was gone.

“Well not always.” Grandma crooned.

Always. Replied the lights, though there was no head to hover above that time.

There was not much to do then laugh, because their luggage was fervently tugging them towards the staircase in the corner of the room. Grandma turned to Tink, raised an eyebrow.

“Welcome to Ingary, love.”

TINK:

Really Tink should not have been surprised at the magical lights and the overly cheerful bellhop and the floating luggage… but she most definitely was. Amazed even. She’d never stayed in the Tipton back in Swynlake and she figured, too, that it wouldn’t be nearly as touristy and marvellous as this inn. Magic was still kinda policed, people were still a little wary. Especially after the whole forest thing. It was a mess.

“It’s all like this, isn’t it?” She looked over at Grandma as they started following their luggage. Their luggage! She had a feeling she was going to be amazed up until they were in front of that evil bitch of a witch.

When the luggage finally stopped moving, Tink stuck her hand in her pocket and grinned as her fingers curled around the key. A soft swear fell from her lips as she shook her head and pulled the key out. “I kinda splurged just a bit. Figured if we were doing this we should at least have a fancy room to relax in.”

She pushed the door open and immediately went to plop herself on the bed. Clearly the most important part of the room. The bathroom had a nice sized tub too. Though that was more for Sophie than for Tink; whichever Sophie she was.

“So what’s the game plan?” Tink shifted to sit up, hands resting on her knees as she looked over to Grandma. She knew the gist of it. They were going to see the Witch of the Waste but Tink didn’t know when, didn’t even know what to expect. At the same time she wasn’t sure if Sophie did either. All Tink knew was that she wanted to get the thing to reverse her curse. Other than that, nothing.

GRANDMA

The door opened, and their luggage floated in first, stopping just beyond the door, as if rid of any magic. It wasn’t that easy in Ingary--but it could at least look like it. That was the beauty of it all. If she were someone like Howl--or Maude--she’d see what was left behind. She could trip away the last reagants until there really wasn’t anything left over from Winthrop’s little display. Probably for the better. But since she couldn’t, it was best not to dwell.

(it was best but it was hard) (ever since they had entered city limits, Sophie had worried that the Witch might sense them) (that they’d be greeted at the terminal by a flurry of action) (and be forced to confront her right away) (without the time like this) (to settle) (to prepare)

Their encounter would happen eventually, but so help them if they weren’t going to be ready for it.

Grandma sat down in one of the chairs by the table next to the window and pulled her purse up onto its polished surface.

“We go over the plan as many times as possible while still getting sleep--and find her tomorrow. I know where she lives. She should be there. And if--all goes well, we get on the first train out of town, and enjoy the rest of our trip there.”

And if not--

You couldn’t really plan for that.

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

That was not a promise that Sophie could make. Of all people, Lou knew that. Everyone broke their promises. There wasn’t a single person in this world who had kept every single promise they’d ever made. Promises kept were simply gold coins for Charon’s ferry, buying you good will on the other side.

This was not a promise that Sophie could keep–and it meant nothing to him.

He would still worry. And Lou did not stomach his worry well. He could feel it lurking already, ready to crash over him like a wave the moment Sophie was out of his arms, out of his sight. 

I love you, she said and Lou felt his heart squeeze.

No one really said that to him. Besides his mother. Though it had become a more frequent part of his vocabulary and conversations since May. It wasn’t him who said it. At least, not at first. It was his family. They were the ones who cooed it at him, who looked at him with tears in their eyes, who didn’t let him leave the house without tucking it in his pocket to carry with him.

He supposed that was what this was. Sophie tucking it into his pocket, so that he could carry it with him when she had left. Perhaps it would soothe the worry somewhat. It would soothe any grief, should she die. It would take away any doubt when he looked back on this moment later.

What was it that idiots said? 

It is better to love and lost than to ever have loved at all.

Idiots.

“Je sais,” he murmured, sighing heavily. “Je t’aime aussi,” he said, even quieter. He supposed he could tuck it into her pocket too, so that there may be no question about it. 

Sophie could’ve--she could’ve stood right there. She could’ve whimpered and sobbed in her own pathetic little way, holding onto Lou like her life depended on it. She could’ve stayed there, humming a melody in her head as if this was the dance he had promised. 

But it was not, and this was none of those things. 

There were things to be done, and Lou was not the person from which to get pity. It was like grovelling to Maude--it’d happen, sure, but it wasn’t of much help, not when Maude was the one needing something to begin with. 

And Lou may not need something that Sophie knew of, but he was familiar enough for her to know that this wasn’t about her. It was about him. 

She pulled back, finally, looking up at him with watery eyes. She reached up, gently cupping his face in her hands, and raising up onto her tippy toes, coaxing him down towards her, pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, just like she did to Maude, just like she had longed to do for so long. 

“L-Let m-me show you-- you-- you-- everything you, um, you n-need to know.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

oh-heartlessman‌:

That was, indeed, a very real possibility.

It was, indeed, something that could very likely happen.

Howl’s lips tightened a little. Of course he had considered the possibility. Hearing it aloud, however, always felt more final, more official. There was power in speaking, you know. Saying words out loud – names, places, beliefs – that had power.

“That could happen,” said Howl, because even though he could spin pretty words and dress them up with splashes of charisma and persuasion, he did not want to lie to Sophie, not when she was very well going into the belly of the beast. Willingly, at that. So brave, she was.

“That’s why, Miss Hadder,” he continued, “you will not be going alone. And you will be very brave. I can see your bravery coming off you now, you know?” He glided his wand through the air and plucked a little ember of Sophie’s courage. It manifested in front of them, hovering over Howl’s hand, glowing slightly but strongly.

“It won’t do anything on its own,” said Howl. “But…” He waved his wand and the ember glided into the pendant. “It will be there. To remind you. It’s not going anywhere.”

He smiled at her and he felt his heart squeeze and he did not like that, because mixed with the pride, there was fear. He did not like being scared. Howl Pendragon was a huge coward, this he knew, but there was something different about being scared for someone else. At least when it was himself, he could simply hide; with someone else, it was beyond his control.

“Well. Anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

Howl didn’t disagree.

(she longed to be a child once more) (cowardice was accepted in a child) (children were allowed to be scared) (to fear monsters) (children were lied to) (Sophie wanted to be lied to) (part of her wished that Howl had turned to her with a sunny smile) (and told her that no such thing would happen) (but he did not) (his brow did not crease in concern) (but it did not release either)

Sophie stared at him for the long moment between phrases. If it were her, she would’ve left it there. That could happen. She had been placing her periods there for a long time, but Howl continued. 

She watched carefully, as the little glowing light appeared out of nowhere, and hovered in middair. 

Hey, she thought, I need that. 

But Howl knew--of course he did. It was his job, at least in part, to know. 

When he smiled, she ducked her head a little, smoothing out her skirt, because she knew that look too well. Though, it wasn’t usually directed towards her. She did not want to be the source of worry she had become. 

“I-I, um... N-No. No. I think-- think-- think-- think-- t-that’s it.” She replied. “T-Though, um, t-thank y-you. F-For everything.”

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead || (Sophowl)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Sophie pulled away from him and Lou saw, in a flash, how this conversation would go:

They would yell. They would argue. Lou would say something rude, his tongue sharper and faster than the rest of him could ever be. Sophie would look at him as if he’d slapped her or broken her heart or both–and she would shove him from the shoppe and slam the door after him. They would not talk. Sophie would go to Ingary. Sophie would, maybe, die. And it would leave another aching hole inside of Toulouse’s chest.

He would be trapped in the whirlpool, this same scene on loop for him. Just as it would have been if he had died in May. Sophie and he barely a friendship mended. A wound never healed.

Toulouse was too sore for another. He did not think he could carry such guilt.

So, no, he did not think it was smart–but he also…did not want to fight. It was selfish. He knew that he should, that he should fight her and fight her, so if she did die, Lou would be able to think: told you so, and not feel guilty at all for he had done everything that he could.

There was a choice to make–a trolley lever to pull–and Lou’s brain slowed mercifully enough down to let him choose.

And he chose to stand. Took a step across the room. His hands came up and grabbed Sophie’s shoulders gently. His face was soft, twisted with–he wasn’t even sure. Uncertainty, perhaps. He felt as if he was walking towards Sophie across a sheet of ice, a fast-flowing river beneath. 

“D’accord,” he said softly, “d’accord.” Lou sighed once and then pulled Sophie towards him, wrapping his arms around her. And he would tell himself that this was for Sophie–because she was distressed and near tears and terrified. But, he breathed in and felt better too, with his cheek resting on top of her head, her familiar shampoo scent in his nose. 

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he repeated.

Sophie heart beat furiously in her chest, fluttering like a small bird. It kept her alive, and made her short of breath. A funny thing, hearts. Chirping, birdlike hearts. 

How did that poem go? 

Hope is the thing with feathers.

For as long as Sophie had her little, birdlike heart, she’d have hope. 

It beat furiously, lovingly, as she wrapped her arms around Toulouse, who did not bristle in his own right, but who dipped down, melted in against her. 

She curled her hand into the back of his shirt, and pressed her face into his chest, right below the curve of his neck. The moment lingered--and Sophie swallowed thickly, finding the voice she hadn’t used in so long. 

“N-Nothing w-will. Nothing will h-happen, I-- I-- I promise.” 

Sophie blinked, and a couple tears fell. She willed them not to stain Lou’s shirt. 

“Je-- je-- je-- je-- t-t’aime, tu sais?” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

“Taking a sorcerer with you. Taking someone with you besides a fairy who cannot fly,” Lou told her, his voice even–but sharp as a knife, cutting through her stuttering at once.

And he understood, he did. He understood that she wanted to go home. He understood that she did not want to be cursed, who did? 

But if he was in her shoes, it would not matter how long it took. Just that it was done properly. Though, then again, perhaps, he would not care about his life. He didn’t care about his life now, and he wasn’t even cursed. 

That was why he was here right now, however. To tell her that she was being ridiculous and that her life mattered more.

“I am sure your sisters would much rather see you alive and cursed than dead and–well, still cursed.” 

Sophie pulled away then, removing her hands from Lou’s to stand and bristle at her own leisure. 

(really) (she should’ve known this would happen) (Lou was always difficult) (especially whenever it came to anything she ever did for herself) (it was like he knew) (he knew how incompetent she was) (how brash) (how stupid) (it was like he loved to dig his fingers into her cracks) (and rip her apart) 

She bristled, but she did not buckle. 

“I- I have-- have-- have-- s-sought g-guidance f-from H-Howl. T-Tink and I--- I-- I-- I-- have, um, have p-planned. W-We’re n-not going-- going-- going-- i-into t-this b-blind.” 

“I w-wa-- I-I need your help as-- as-- as-- a p-precaution. N-Nothing’s g-going to-- to-- to-- h-happen. A-And w-whether you-- you-- you-- b-believe m-me, and c-choose t-to help, or y-you do-- do-- do-- n-none o-of that-- I’m--” She pointed to the stacks of papers on her desk, among them letters and documents and correspondence. “I-I’m leaving in two w-weeks. M-My t-tickets h-have already been-- been-- been-- b-bought.” 

Sophie drew into herself, that backlash of anger replaced suddenly by an overwhelming sense of finality about this whole thing. Too often had she looked at Lou with frustration. 

“T-Toulouse, please. J-Just--p-please.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

oh-heartlessman‌:

The vapors twisted and turned in and out of themselves. Howl watched as they shimmered in the air, both there and not there, ephemeral and effervescent as luck itself. It was his job – it was the job of all sorcerers, really – to catch all these abstract concepts and tame them, combine them to create something more. Everything in the world had magic, you see, and sorcerers were the only ones who could see it all and pluck it and make it tangible.

Lesson one – the first ever reagent you plucked – was often a smile. Smiles, you see, were a type of magic that even Mundus could recognize. Smiles had the power to change one’s day, to soothe another, to cause mischief and laughter. So you pulled a smile, you kept it in a jar, and that was that.

Howl’s first reagent had been starlight, a little complex for such a young sorcerer, but he’d always felt an affinity for the celestial, always he had been looking skywards, to the heavens, to all the possibilities that the world above offered.

As above, so below, went the old adage, and he’d pulled that starlight into his hand and kept it in a little jar by his windowsill, before he even knew what he was and what he could do, he knew he had the stars.

“She can be…very persuasive,” Howl said, and he lifted his wand so that the vapors wrapped themselves around it. (Honestly – he didn’t really need a wand, but it was more for show). “There’s rumors she’s dabbled in hypnotism, but those are just rumors. Her brand of magic-sucking only works with consent, but she is quite the smooth talker.”

With his wand, Howl guided the vapors to the pendent, giving it a little tap for good measure.

“But you, Sophie, are not very easily persuaded, are you?” He raised a single eyebrow. “Especially going in with the resolute determination you’ve got on you now like a cloak.” 

“And,” he added, “you’ll have each other. It is often more difficult to persuade two minds than one – you’ll look out for one another, make sure she doesn’t carry away one of you with her pretty words.”

The woman that Sophie remembered was not persuasive at all. 

She had been... Enraged. Nothing about her had screamed that she was someone with the ability to be even remotely likeable to be persuasive. Sophie figured that by the time she had come by the shop, she had lost more battles than she had planned on even entering that day. It had made her blunt, and irritable. She’d stumbled into the store with shadows over her shoulders, knocking tables around and aside, yelling a terrible racket about things that Sophie didn’t understand. 

The Witch had appeared to er not as a woman, but a monster. A slick tongued demon with nefarious intent, maybe, but not a persuasive woman. Dangerous in her brutishness, not her cunning. 

There would be time, in the days to come, for Sophie to try an combine those two images into one person. For now it was important that she listened.

“I d-don’t-- um... I’ll be s-sure to-- to-- to-- to-- d-do t-that. T-Tink and-- um, Tink and I h-have had a l-lot of t-time to, um, to talk about what-- what-- what--what-- sh-she’s done. I-I d-don’t f-figure she’ll n-need much reminding t-to remember the W-Witch i-isn’t.. A-Anything t-to be t-trusted, o-or listened to...” 

The mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine. 

Sophie wrung her hands in her lap, unsure and--at once, scared. 

“I-I um, I-- I-- I-- I-- w-worry sh-she’ll t-try and f-finish the-- the-- the-- the-- j-job. That t-this c-could be s-some s-sort of um, end.” 

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead || (Sophowl)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Toulouse did not like the sound of this at all. 

He wanted to tell her no. That she wasn’t allowed to leave. That she was being stupid and that they would find another way. This wasn’t how it should be done. 

He did not say these things, however. They stayed locked behind his teeth.

Not your place, not your place, he told himself. 

It felt like his place, however. He loved Sophie. There were few people that he could say that in his life about. He would not, even, really say that he loved his father to the extent that Toulouse could love someone. And this was the very reason why that number was so small. He could not control everyone in his life. He could not tell them what to do or watch them every second of every day and make sure they were safe. 

It drove him to the point of insanity. 

“I don’t think–you should…Sophie, there has to be a different way. If there is any chance that you going means you dying, you should find another way.” 

Well, he had tried to keep those opinions locked inside of him, but he would rather convince her to stay and have her hate him, than go and die and leave him behind.

Lou wasn’t hearing her. He didn’t know. 

(and how could he know?) (it wasn’t like she had told him) (it wasn’t like she had been honest) (or open) (or even mildly less selfish than she’d always been) (even without saying anything she had made herself a burden) (a pathetic) (useless) (burden)

She looked at him, tears in her eyes, and shook her head once more. 

“I’ve-- I’ve-- I’ve-- b-been trying to-- to-- to-- to-- f-find another w-way. I-I’ve b-been in Swynlake for n-nearly t-two years trying to-- to-- f-find another way, Toulouse, and ev-everything k-keeps b-bringing me back.” 

“I-I want-- want-- want-- w-want to- g-go h-home. I-I want to s-see my sisters ag-gain. I c-can’t l-live by here, know-- know-- knowing f-full well t-that some d-disaster might h-happen, and s-stop m-me from e-ever g-getting home. And-- and-- and-- i-it’s d-dangerous, but-- w-what isn’t anymore?” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Of course she wasn’t asking him to come along. Lou attempted to dismiss the brief flicker of hurt–it wasn’t like he would be any help against…whatever it was she had to face. He was not magical or powerful. He had his charm–sometimes. He had his rage. He had his intellect. None of those things would help Sophie. Plus, Sophie had Tink. Of course that was who she would ask.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was what Sophie said next.

“Sophie–what…” he trailed off, pursing his lips, unsure how to finish the sentence. “What do you mean if something happens?” He, obviously, knew what she meant by such things, but–

“What exactly are you doing, Sophie? Shouldn’t–shouldn’t you take a sorcerer with you? Someone who knows what they are doing. I know you want to be rid of whatever this is, but–is there not a safer way?” 

“I ask because–because I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He squeezed her hand a little.

Sophie’s heart squeezed in tandem with her hand and she blinked, shook her head. 

God if she didn’t want to bring Howl with. God, if they wouldn’t get found out immediately if she did. God if she could bring someone in wit her without popping up like a blaring red alarm to anyone in Ingary who had any weight.

She let out a long deep breath. (as if that was all she needed to prepare herself to explain) 

“I-It um-- it’s n-not... If all goes-- goes-- goes-- w-well, it w-won’t be m-much of a confrontation at all--but it’s just... In case. The-- the-- the-- w-witch w-who c-cursed m-me is um... Fickle. And-- she can-- can-- can-- c-can b-be d-dangerous. And s-so um, in case something w-were to-- to-- h-happen, I n-need t-to b-be prepared, d-do you understand?” 

This wasn’t so much a question for Lou as it was a confirmation for herself. Anything could happen, Sophie, do you understand? 

“And s-so if I were to-- to-- to-- to-- to-- um, I would n-need y-you to c-come back h-here and m-mail out s-some letters. F-Final-- final-- final-- l-lease payments. N-Notice of closure t-things um, p-personal... Letters.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

oh-heartlessman‌:

Right. Luck. He could do luck. Luck was a tricky spell, mind you, but it was a fun one and one he had done many a time. It was usually expensive – after all, luck could tip very important things in one’s favor. Most sporting events and competitions outlawed the use of luck spells and potions (well, most Mundus outlawed spells of any kinds, so here we mean sporting events and competitions of the magical sort). But luck tugged at the outcomes and attracted favorable things. Luck was an elusive sort of reagent on its own, hopping in gold splashes like a rabbit from one person to the other.

Some people had lots of it, only to find that it had grown fickle and hopped to the next person.

The trick with a luck spell was coercing the luck reagent to stick onto a person. Usually that involved harvesting some of the person – Sophie had her pendant right on her, so it would be much easier than most.

“I can certainly do both,” laughed Howl. And the little jar of luck glided rom one of the cabinets, the golden splashes darting around like flying fish. They shimmered in Calcifer’s firelight and the jar settled by the hearth.

“Well, the Witch is a proud woman. You might think me vain – which is fair, I will admit – but the witch is proud in a way where she does not care to admit she needs any one else in the world.” Howl’s wand glided to his hand. “Excuse me – one moment.” He leaned forward to tap it against Sophie’s amulet, and a bit of Sophie swirled out, a lovely spring green. He coaxed it into a floating vial, which then settled next to the luck.

“I do think she’s lonely,” he admitted, as a cauldron bounced down the steps and onto the hearth. “Surrounds herself with lavish parties and people to sponge off of, but at the end of the day, it’s just her in that grand house of hers, with all the bottles of reagents and broken hearts she’s collected.” He held the bottle of luck, wand in another hand, trying to get a good angle so that one of the little splashes would attach to his wand.

“But – yes. She likes to show off. She’s got beauty spells a mile deep over her. She’s used to getting what she wants. She does do this annoying thing where she hones in on what makes people the weakest and plucks it to use for her own.” He rolled his eyes, as he finally corralled one of the luck splashes and plucked it from the jar. “Very rude – that’s just sorcerer etiquette 101.”

The luck splashed into the cauldron. Essence of Sophie also dripped in. The wooden spoon stirred inside of it. Howl glanced over as spring green and golden vapors mixed in the air.

“Shouldn’t be too long now,” he said. “I’ll put it in the pendant, if you’d like. Or maybe something else if you want.”

Sophie watched, cautiously, curiously, as the streams of lights flitted their way over from all across the room. The light coming out from under her own nose didn’t startle her anymore. That swirling green she had come to know. It sat there on her chest as a reminder or--maybe a promise. The promise that one day she’d get back home. The reminder that this is who she really was. The promise that not everything was set, even if it started to feel like it. 

Two years was--a long time. It was a long time to have not done anything at all. Sophie could only barely even remember her first encounter with the Witch at all. In the days after, her voice had been carved into the folds of Sophie’s brain but now, it was more like a distant memory than anything, something she could’ve convinced herself was untrue if it weren’t for the evidence all around her. Really, she had no idea how this whole thing would go over, and that was to say there was no guarantee she wouldn’t completely black out, and the Witch would finally get what she wanted. 

Obviously, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

(but she didn’t put it past herself) (even with luck on her side) (even with Tink there to help) (she was weak) (brittle in bones and ambitions) (and likely to snap first) (there was no telling if Sophie was actually cut out for the task at hand) (and she wouldn’t be able to tell until she had tried) 

But if the Witch was--old, and lonely and fickle, just as Howl said, then maybe... She couldn’t allowed herself that much leeway of thought. Not yet. 

Her brow creased as she watched, permanently concerned or tired or uncertain or apprehensive or all of the above. 

“I-- the-- the-- the-- the-- um, the p-pendant’s great, yeah, that’l b-be um... That’ll b-be great.”She shifted on her feet, glancing away, back towards the door, and then over again at Howl. She wished she could be as blase about this whole thing. Maybe it wasn’t luck, but nonchalance that she needed. 

“Do y-you--um, is t-there something I should m-maybe um... W-Watch out-- out-- out-- f-for when w-we go to c-confront her?” 

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead || (Sophowl)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Lou shifted a bit as Sophie came to sit next to him. It was natural, to curve towards her, as if he was a flower towards the sun. They had sat like this many times, on the couch–side-by-side. There was not many people Lou could say that about. Not many that had that gentle familiarity, like this couch’s cushions were as molded to him as the handles of his paintbrushes.

He smiled softly at her, though the expression soon morphed into one of gentle confusion as she spoke. 

It didn’t surprise him that she had secrets. Most everyone did, Lou knew. If anyone understood that, it was Toulouse. If he had not earned her trust until now, it was because she did not trust him–and while it stung, he could not blame her. Lou had never been the most steady person on which to lean.

“Cursed?” Lou repeated after a long moment. His heart squeezed. “In what way?” He moved a bit closer to her on the couch, reaching over to put his hand on top of hers, for when all of Lou’s walls were down–he was a natural comforter, sought it out in the gentlest, warmest of touches. He searched her eyes for a moment.

“Do you need someone to come with you? If that is what you’re asking, of course I will go. You needn’t do it alone.” 

It was this part that Sophie hadn’t been prepared for. She had feared that--maybe he would lash out again, mad at her for having kept something so big from him. There would’ve been understanding there, she wouldn’t have been able to blame him for his anger this time. 

That had simmered in the back of her mind since the finality of this meeting had come to fruition, and yet this was so much worse. 

(because Lou could be too kind) (and more than she would ever deserve) 

Sophie turned her hand underneath his to curl her fingers around his own larger ones. Her eyes flicked up, trying furtively to keep any emotions at bay. There was still so much it be said, and it would only take longer through tears. 

“I-I--no. N-Non. Tink is-- T-Tink is going to c-come with m-me. B-But I n-need your-- your-- your-- help here. I-I s-still d-don’t have m-many people-- um, around, and i-if um, if something h-happens, I n-need someone I-I can um, I can trust. To-- to-- to-- to-- settle, settle, settle my-- my-- my--affairs.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

“Many things?” he teased, “goodness, you should have told me to clear my schedule.” He chuckled as he moved to sit down. 

“That was a joke by the way,” Lou followed up as he got comfortable, crossing one of his legs over the other and tugging at the front of his hair a bit nervously. 

(And why was he nervous–could he simply sense the change in the air? Or had it just been a long time since a friend had invited him over to their private place for a cup of tea.) 

“I don’t have any other appointments. All yours.” 

Sophie darted into the kitchen. She set the kettle on the stove and clicked on the burner while Lou sat down. To the outside viewer, maybe she was trying to remember where she had last put the nice cups, or whether or not she still had the right kind of tea, but this was not the truth. Really, all she needed was a moment to figure things out. Decide where to start. How did you go about explaining such a long story without fumbling from a lack of grace? 

(Sophie didn’t know) (she likely never would) (grace was not her forte) 

“R-Right, um, good.” She said, rounding the couch and settling herself on the side of it. She wanted to tuck in her legs, hide underneath her skirt, but she owed Lou at least some degree of transparency. She smoothed the folds of it out over her knees instead. 

“I-I haven’t um--well, I haven’t been-- been-- been-- c-completely... Honest. I-I suppose. A-About my-- my-- my being here. A-As in um, as in Swynlake. A-And that’s-- that’s-- that’s-- n-not to say I-I haven’t um, b-been true t-to you. I-I’ve meant every-- every-- thing-- thing-- thing-- I’ve s-said. I just h-haven’t b-been s-saying um... All of it.” 

Lou would have to listen for a moment, though she paused with a shaky breath. She hadn’t even gotten to her point yet. 

“I-I um, I f-fled Ingary a-almost t-two years ago n-now. Because-- cause-- cause-- I-I w-was c-cursed. I-I s-still am. I-I though coming h-here would b-be the b-best w-way to g-get rid-- rid-- rid-- of it b-but as it t-turns out, I can’t d-do that without going b-back.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Toulouse was intrigued when he received a text from a one Sophie Hadder. A rather vague text, all things considered (those things being he had not heard much from her since Town Hall Disaster of 2k18.) He had checked on her during that time, and afterwards too. Helped clean up the shop (again, irony of ironies there, if you look closely.) 

But, he hadn’t heard from her in a little while. 

Though, he supposed that the request for tea wasn’t that alarming or unusual. 

Maybe his sense of foreboding came simply as residue from the Town Hall Disaster of 2k18.

So, armed with a bouquet of flowers, Toulouse entered the shoppe with an easy smile. He strode across the shoppe in a few long strides. Ducking his head, he kissed Sophie’s cheeks, before handing her the flowers.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said with a chuckle as he leaned back. “What is it we are discussing?” And he was very curious about the answer to that question.

The smile on Sophie’s face was cheeky. Lou and his kisses were so endearingly french. 

(did they remind her of home?) (was she already readying herself?) (she was) 

She stepped back, allowing the curtains to part, and Lou to pass through. It had crossed her mind to clear up her workbench before he came along, but a lack of clutter was almost more suspicious. Not that it really mattered whether he thought something was going on or not--cause there was. He wouldn’t be wrong. He would just be right... Too soon, perhaps. Sophie wanted to hold onto the calm before the storm for as long as she could. 

“M-Many t-things. U-Um, well, a-- a--- c-couple. I-I w-won’t keep you for t-too long but um, why d-don’t you take a s-seat and we-- we-- I-I can um, explain. A little.” 

Ce n’est pas un au revoir || (Sotou)

[sophiehadder-blog]

Cooking Mishaps || Tink & You

Tink: Exactly. That's the logic.

Tink: Wow damn I love you

Tink: you know exactly what to say

Sophie: Love you too

[sophiehadder-blog]

Cooking Mishaps || Tink & You

Tink: Spinach is apparently very good for you. How? I have no idea

Tink: Ooooh the fancy grilled cheese?

Sophie: It's green which must mean its good

Sophie: Um yes of course the fancy grilled cheese