#braindeacl

[stolensiren]

that bird ain't right // eilidh, metzli, & cass

TIMING: current PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli , @braindeacl , & @stolensiren SUMMARY: while on patrol, cass and metzli run into eilidh and a big, vaguely bird-shaped problem. CONTENT: none

Robert should’ve stopped after the second failed attempt. The third. The fourth, even. But he was almost close to cracking it. He could feel it in his bones despite his hands refusal to produce. He was so close! He had studied the technique flawlessly — practiced the motions in a mirror until they looked just as the books. Success had been found in summoning birds, with time of course as it seemed to be now. And that now demanded something more. Something powerful — something he could really flaunt around town. But they kept dying. A great cockatrice who bubbled and bursted in blisters before it could so much as screech. A beautiful raróg who never got the chance to know flames before it turned to ash. A terrifying ker who quickly turned to eat itself rather than any of the corpses near. Until it joined that pile of bodies. A pile that seemed to have no end.

Eilidh had been called to the place as places often did — with the promise of death. There was that pull in the air again, like a great wind rushing passed. To that clearing that kept beckoning, who had given her gifts before. But this call was fresh. Her teeth chattered in excitement. Mind imagining the feast and the one who caused it. She donned her goggles. Followed that inner pull until it ended with that twisted use of magic. At first her sights were placed on the pile of bodies, and their rotted flesh called to her as any. But the hunger wanted the man. The man who used magic so cruelly — who invited death for no reason but delight. His ripeness was palpable. Her teeth chattered more, clicks of hunger soon to be fulfilled. Until there was a shift in the air and the hunger withered. It didn’t die, still craving the man as ever. But the pile seemed less appealing. And then it moved.

Success too seemed to be in the air, for Robert at least, as life returned to those fallen creatures. But not as a group of individuals, as one whole. The pile refused to separate; simply turned to become upright. The legs fused and torsos twisted together and wings joined at the same joint. At the end of the equation was a massive bird. A Chimera. One of many wings, of many heads all sporting fangs, covered in flames, and with an appetite that felt never ending. An appetite aimed at the father, who was devoured eagerly by this new child. But it wasn’t enough. No one meal would be enough. Its many eyes turned to look at the distant lights: the town. Those many wings outstretched; too many for just one body. Flapped against each other instead of together, forcing the great bird back to the ground. A piercing shriek of frustration bursted out those many beaks, making the air shake. But it needed to get to town. It needed to feed. The legs stumbled forward, merely tripping instead of crashing down when they too failed to work in tandem. Slowly shuffling to those lights. Those beautiful lights.

Eilidh had a fleeting disappointment watching the man fail prey to his creation. Her hunger still craved, but her mind knew he was more its kill than hers. But she could recognize that wanting — the need to feed more and more. The creature, still but a babe, had the matching appetite of a child. Enough for a town. Those insatiable eyes set on the very place and Eilidh let out a curse. Running down the hill she had been perched to give chase.

Patrolling was a lot more fun when you weren’t doing it alone. It was something Cass had learned pretty early on in her superhero career. There was so much sitting and waiting on a patrol, so much watching without acting. Cass was bad at that. It was so much easier to manage with a distraction, with someone to talk to. It was why Cass had been so pleased when Metzli offered to go with her tonight, why she hadn’t hesitated for a second in taking them up on it.

And it was probably good that she had. There was something weird going on in the woods tonight. She could practically taste it in the air, feel it buzzing beneath her skin. She all but dragged Metzli behind her, chattering all the while. “Tamara — that’s one of the girls I know from the shelter — said she saw some sketchy dude coming out here the last few nights. Apparently he’s a real ‘mutter to yourself under your breath’ kind of guy, which is, like, never a good sign. I just wanna see what he’s up to, you know? It might be nothing, but if there’s another cult starting out here we should probably catch it early.” She was rambling, largely just speaking to break the silence, but Metzli never seemed to mind it much.

She opened her mouth to continue, but a loud boom from the woods cut her off. Faltering, Cass turned to look at Metzli with wide eyes. “Okay,” she said, “so maybe it’s not nothing. C’mon!” It was all the warning she gave before she was running towards the sound without much regard for watching where she was going. It was thanks to this lack of attention to detail that she found herself hurtling into another person, someone who definitely wasn’t the man Tamara had described. Someone familiar. Stumbling backwards, Cass glared. “You,” she snapped, falling into a defensive position.

Metzli always liked when Cass requested their presence in her patrols. Not only did it mean she wanted them around, but she trusted them. There were unspoken meanings in such things, especially to those who had spent so much time alone. Being isolated meant that you were safe, which was true in a way, but the pair had grown to rely on one another, leaving that perspective behind. “Smart girl. In a town like this, nipping cults in the bud is the safest option.” They smirked subtly to themselves, impressed and proud at the initiative Cass took in her work. She truly cared about people and did her best to play a part in their welfare.

Walking carefully next to Cass, they halted abruptly at the sound of echoing shrieks and irregular stomps. They were expecting excitement, but not to this degree. It could prove too much for Cass, and her safety was their top priority. Metzli’s entire body tensed as if hackles were raising, on alert and festering with violence that needed to be executed. Soon that body tensed for a completely different reason, disregarding the beasts that were loose. Eilidh’s familiar scent filled their nose and they saw Cass running straight towards the origin. “Cass, espérate! Wait!” They reached out, grasping nothing but air. The collision was brief and they filled the space between the pair quickly in case Eilidh reacted harshly. If she were hunting for dinner, she’d be sure to lash out. Teeth and all.

The familiarity in Cass’s voice confused Metzli, displayed by the immediate tilt of their head and its subsequent turn to look at their partner, finger raised. “Hola, mi amor. Una momento.” They looked back at Cass, brows furrowed. “You know her?”

The beast was unstable, this was apparent. Eilidh could see those unsure foot placements, those wobbling knees. It tugged at something deep in her heart, for she had watched its birth. Barely a newborn and walking like one. And while she had come to this place to feed, and while a weapon did lay in her hand, the usual stirrings in her chest stuttered. She heard those distant sounds, but they felt distant too. Knowing whoever was near was either running away — like a squirrel by her feet — or running towards the beast — like her. The other didn’t matter, the beast was the focal. But what to do with it? One instinct telling her to bludgeon, the other telling her to nurture. Her feet at least knew its course: chase along. But those hands needed to make their minds. And they finally did, when she was bumped into.

Eilidh recognized the causing form, but the familiarity did not create excitement. She hissed at the sight of that damn mask. Her again. The one who couldn’t keep a simple deal. Come to interrupt another feed. If Eilidh could still call it such, but the point still stood. Finding a much closer outlet for aggression, her hand immediately jerked forward. But it struck another. Metzli. Metzli? This familiarity causing a burst of joy, once it was done combating her perplexity. A confusion that was lost on her face, concealed by goggles and fabrics, but came across in her voice. “You know Songbird?”

The distant lights were so tantalizing. But they were also so distant. Stuck in a body that was never meant to function and convulsing in a hunger that knew no end was a hell the Chimera thought was life. Yet, it wasn’t always so cruel. The three below would not be enough to calm its insatiable. But they were a start. Three bodies for three heads.

That stopped hand was still connected to Metzli, and Eilidh used it to push them away. Using that momentum to shove herself back in turn. Mostly eating air, the head that had chosen her gave a loud snap. But was punctuated with a splatter of black. Razor teeth managing to slice a bit of her chest. The heat was like a sunburn — sore and sweet. She let out a curt laugh from the sensation. Using the surge of excitement to whack her metal rod across the snapping head. Before remembering her confliction and letting out a huff. “Look for water, Datura!” Knowing their eyesight was better in the dark. She felt some was near, the feeling whispering in the back of her head. And she wanted, needed, to find one quick. She couldn’t watch another forest fire. Not so soon. “N’ be careful! Is just a babe!”

The other woman — god, Cass hadn’t even gotten her name before, had she? — seemed as ready for an immediate fight as Cass herself. She wasn’t worried about it or anything, because she could definitely hold her own the same way she had the last time their paths crossed, but she was kind of glad Metzli was with her, anyway. Just in case. It was never a bad idea to have backup, after all, never a bad idea to have someone else on your side. Except…

Metzli was looking at the woman with a gentle expression on their face, was speaking to her in quiet tones. Cass didn’t speak much Spanish, but she’d been around enough of it to recognize basic things like mi amor, enough to recognize the significance of it. “I’m sorry, what?” Was this the girlfriend Metzli had told her about? The one who left them, with no warning and no explanation? Who came back and was accepted so easily, as if nothing happened at all? Cass had been trying to give Metzli’s girlfriend a chance because she made them happy and they deserved that, but she’d already been struggling with it. But now? Now all she wanted was to give this woman a piece of her mind.

(Maybe she should find better phrasing for that. She was pretty sure the stranger didn’t take the corpse’s head just for meanness, before.)

But… now might not be the best time. Cass didn’t know what the creature was, only that it was large and daunting and… bird-like. Immediately, she felt a surge of sympathy towards it, a hint of a connection. It looked lost. And, okay, it was trying to eat Metzli’s girlfriend a little bit, but Cass wasn’t sure that completely put them on different teams. “What is it?” She looked to Metzli, pointedly ignoring the strange woman. “How can we stop it?”

Songbird? A chimera? Macleod? What the hell was going on? Metzli’s mind was reeling with a surge of questions that had to be left unanswered. They were pushed back just as they caught sight of the horrid creature that was looking at both the vampire and zombie as dinner. With a nod at Eilidh, they pulled Cass with them, “On it! Be careful, mi alma!” They could smell water a couple hundred yards away. They could help.

“That’s a chimera. It likes to eat dead things like me and…” Eyes darted towards Macleod, who was managing to keep the chimera distracted for the time-being. “Macleod. My girlfriend.” Metzli cleared their throat and sighed, “I’m gonna lure it to the water. You go with Macleod and be my backup. I have the best senses in this scenario and will need to lead it.”

There wasn’t just one meal anymore. There were three. But which one to pick? Why not all? But which first? The Chimera screeched, salivating from all heads, each pulling in separate directions. One at a time wasn’t an ideal option, but it was better than no option at all.

Metzli waved their arms, baring their teeth in reaction to the screech. “Hey! Over here!” Their simple yelling got its attention, and it ran in their direction with fervor. It didn’t scare them to have such a beast stampeding at them, but what did scare them was the possibility of two people they loved getting hurt. That’s why when teeth grazed their shoulder, they didn’t scream. They kept running, enticing the chimera with a trail of their dead blood to the river only they saw.

Eilidh’s limbs may’ve been distracted with the hungry child who thought her a meal, but ears were free to listen. In between stomps and shrieks, she heard her name fill the air. Spoken so casually. Spoken to one who shouldn’t know. An annoyance, enough to garner a hiss, but a minor one. She chose to be claimed to that name. But not to fucking ‘dead thing.’ Dead thing! Her feet faltered at that — growl like a mad dog’s bark. Anger blinding, letting the insatiable beast get another small bite of her. Symbolic, for her mind was equally torn. Oh, she wanted to stab everyone in this scenario. Except not really. Except very much yes. But, no, two kids and her love wasn’t the most ideal frenzy scenario. She looked to one of the formers. That poor stumbling thing. So hungry — too hungry for this place. Like the fires it had as skin.

When a great limb thrashed at Eilidh, she didn’t try for deep wounds. No sharp objects. Just another whack. Strong and forceful to match the great beast’s girth. The intention of one smacking with a newspaper. And in the stun it caused, she was able to gain on Metzli. She had noticed their purposeful steps. They had found something. But she wasn’t the only one closing the gap between. The chimera felt it had Metzli too, their distracting calls proving too persuasive. Her own calls simple background noise. Its stumbling soon gave way to a steady walk. Part of her felt a sense of pride in watching those first true steps. But they were leading to her lover’s demise. Her teeth clenched. The pride in mind was quickly replaced with a need to protect, just as her rod in hand was replaced with rope.

But it wasn’t a simple rope, one end tied in a circle. Eilidh lassoed one of the heads. Sort of. It got stuck in ones horn, but the stuck was her ultimate intention. It carried her along with ease, their differences in size demanding. But her weight, while smaller, wasn’t ignorable. The attached head began to thrash and she was lifted in the air. Learned to fly for a brief moment, just as the beast had. And in that echo, she too crashed just as soon to the ground. But when she gained purchase, she followed the momentum and shoved her end of the rope further down. Jerking the head, and this finally got its attention. That rope began to unfurl as the fires ate the fabrics. Just as it wanted to do of her. She ran: Metzli’s direction but at a slight angle. Giving them a moment to recuperate as she helped lead it forward. To that distant shine in the dark. Water. Probably.

It grated on her, the softness with which Metzli spoke to the woman, to Macleod. Cass knew it wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, but it did anyway. Her first encounter with Macleod, with the vampires and the bloody nose and the dead man she’d been too busy to save, it had hurt. It had been scary, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Macleod had been scary. And Metzli was supposed to be on Cass’s side against the things and the people that scared her. Weren’t they?

And Cass knew, on a logical level, that none of this was true. Cass had run into Macleod once, for a moment, and neither of them had been at their best. Metzli obviously knew her better, knew her well enough to love her. It wasn’t fair to judge someone entirely on one encounter and assume the worst when people who’d known them longer didn’t share in that assumption, but Cass struggled, sometimes, to be fair in her friendships. She’d had so few of them. There really wasn’t a lot of experience to draw on.

Whirling to face Metzli as they spoke, Cass sputtered for a moment. “What — Why do I have to stay with her? I want to go with you.” She trusted Metzli to watch her back. Macleod? Not so much. Given how things went the last time they met, she wasn’t entirely convinced that Macleod wasn’t going to feed her to the chimera as soon as Metzli’s back was turned. Just because she hadn’t killed her when those vampires got away didn’t mean she was trustworthy. But Metzli was already moving, because there wasn’t really time for Cass’s protests. There was a giant bird-thing trying to eat them all, so… Maybe being petty wasn’t the best course of action. Maybe.

Still, Cass was tense as she turned back to Macleod. She watched her for a moment, hating how impressive it was to see her lasso one of the chimera’s heads with her rope, hating how she seemed to know exactly what to do while Cass was at a loss. The chimera seemed far more content to focus on Macleod and Metzli than Cass, bringing Metzli’s explanation back to mind. It eats dead things. Cass wasn’t invisible here, but… She was an afterthought. Something the creature wasn’t focusing on at the moment. She could use that.

Slipping behind the chimera, Cass followed along with a watchful eye, waiting for the right moment. When the beast was distracted, both by Metzli’s shouts and by Macleod’s attacks, Cass took a running leap and jumped, climbing onto its back. There wasn’t much left of the rope Macleod had used to lasso the thing, but Cass grabbed it anyway. Like a harness, like a rein. She’d never ridden a horse, but she was pretty sure she got the concept. Control the head, control the body. This one just… had a few more heads to control.

Thank goodness Cass listened because that would’ve set off a whole different slew of problems. Ones that Metzli didn’t really feel like calculating for. Not when a giant beast was hurling one of its many mouths at them. The ground caved into the pressure of the attack, missing the vampire by mere inches thanks to their evasion. It continued to run past, leaving fire to spread on the grass, but being put out quickly by several swift stomps. Macleod didn’t want another fire. The greenery was too precious and had been hurt too recently. They knew she didn’t want to see the violence again.

“Cass!” Metzli took notice of her recklessness, frantic to get to her before flames ate away at everything. Macleod would be fine. She always was. Even while she was being pulled into the air, she would be okay. Like a cat, she’d land on her feet and continue. “Cass, you need to get down!” There was too much happening. They weren’t sure if Cass could even hear them. Growling, they ran as fast as they could, gaining on the creature until they could jump, landing next to their friend. “Amor, the river is just up ahead!” They pointed from their perch, planting a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “Jump off when I say.”

The chimera was hot, surrounding the pair with the raging scent of burning dead flesh. Metzli looked around with haste, seeing the rope fray with the fire. Control would soon be lost. What little there was anyway. They rushed to take off their hoodie, slapping the fire with it. It was hardly of any use, but it kept them from getting burned while they waited for the water to come into view. When it did, the vampire told Cass to jump, threw the hoodie onto a head and followed immediately after their garment to force the chimera into the river with a giant splash.

Eilidh watched the amount of people clinging to the beast’s back jump from one to two. She the only one whose feet knew of the ground. That and the chimera’s. Both beast and woman realized this at the same time, sharing a knowing look. Before the predator set its sights on the easiest prey. She kept her course true, trusting that the approaching twinkling was water. The one she wanted to swim was certainly growing into those legs, reaching speed previously unseen. She could hear one head breathing near her ear. Knew her flesh would very soon replace the breath if she wasn’t quick. No time could be wasted on retrieving a weapon. That great maw opened, the teeth prepared. But hers did as well. She bit into her own, severing an index finger. Spit it hastily into the air. And the beast wanted the easiest prey. It snapped at the offering, leaving her head untouched. In its moment of satisfaction, she was given a few more steps ahead. Until one made a loud crashing sound. Water.

The water was a thief. It stole the Chimera’s blazing skin, replacing with that of simple flesh. Fire was powerful, and its absence was strongly felt. The sudden weakness made the legs, who had just known stability, buckle and sway. The only remaining strength was the hunger. And it grew in full, roused by its newfound desperation. It began to bite at everyone and everything, not just the woman before it. Snapping and thrashing at the two who tried to leave its back.

The fire of the skin may have died, but not the flames of hunger. Eilidh could recognize the look, or looks, in its eyes. Such a hunger forced more teeth upon her. But she had already returned her rod to her hands. The teeth met it instead of her. Force pushing both her and the head down, submerged into water. With no lungs to cry out, she could stay down there forever. But the head kept pushing — kept inching the teeth closer. Until it started to tear into her abdomen. Fire filled her belly as her mouth filled with flesh. Her own teeth tearing at the beast’s eyes, the close proximity permitting. After both were lost passed her throat, the beast finally relented. Pulling out from the waters to release a scream on the wind. She stood, contents of her gut spilling further into the water. Surely tainting it with blackness, but she couldn’t tell. She only had the mind to attack the head again, another beating of her rod. And she knew she should go for more fatal wounds. Before the other heads remembered her. Before the first head recovered. The skin was exposed, revealing all those soft bits. But she found her hand hesitated. Found it only wanted to smack. The beast was only a babe.

Eilidh cursed under her breath. Goggles lost in the skirmish, she looked up at the great beast with clear eyes. “Bà bà, leanab! Fuck. Can find you food!” Her attempts at reasoning would be better spent on a brick wall. Reduced to just more whacking as a limb tried to swipe at her.

Even with her costume’s flame resistant fabric, the heat was nearly unbearable. Cass forced herself to stay on the beast’s back in spite of it, even as her skin blistered and sweat poured from every surface. Heroism was about taking everything you could stand to take and multiplying it by a thousand, was about doing the best thing even when it wasn’t the smartest. (It was never the smartest. Cass knew that.)

Metzli’s sudden presence at her side wasn’t as unexpected as she might have hoped for it to be, because Metzli tended to follow Cass’s lead even when it wasn’t a very good lead to follow. Cass felt a heat in her chest that had nothing to do with the flames surrounding them and everything to do with the guilt of knowing that Metzli might get hurt because of her, but she pushed the feeling down. It wasn’t important now. What was important was steering the proverbial ship into the water before it could set the forest and the town and everything between the two on fire with it.

Nodding at Metzli’s instruction, Cass closed her eyes for a moment. The heat was building, the fabric of her costume beginning to bend to it. It hurt. Everything hurt. And then…

Metzli yelled for her to jump, and Cass didn’t need to be told twice. She met the ground in a graceless tumble, wincing as her shoulder hit the dirt before the rest of her. That was going to hurt tomorrow. Probably the next day, too. Definitely the day after. What kind of health insurance did Spider-Man have? Cass wondered if there was a similar plan available in White Crest.

Forcing herself to her feet, Cass rushed to the river’s edge, trying to make out the fight happening beneath the surface of the water. It was hard to tell what was happening. The water was murky with more than just dirt, Cass suspected. A strange sense of concern tugged at her gut because as uncertain as she was about Macleod, she loved Metzli and they loved the zombie. Cass didn’t want anything to happen to her, even if she was still sour over their first meeting, over the heartbroken texts Metzli had sent after she left town.

Woman and beast surfaced together, and Cass rushed over, ready to jump into the fray again. Macleod looked hurt badly, but the wounds didn’t seem to bother her and Cass realized just how little she knew about how the undead processed pain. It seemed like the zombie was trying to speak to the creature, trying to reason with it. Cass, too, longed for a peaceful solution. This thing hadn’t asked to be born the way it had. It hadn’t asked to come into the world, confused and uncertain with wings that couldn’t keep it in the air and feet that weren’t enough to keep it steady. Turning to Metzli, she swallowed. “Can we help it?” She’d trust the vampire’s answer, whatever it was. She knew they’d be honest with her, just as they always were.

Water went everywhere as the vampire was flipped into the river, submerging Metzli and burying them below what could be called the chimera’s torso. They screamed, seeing walls surround them and hearing the splashes turn into grains of sand. Fists plunged into the creature over and over again, pulling thick, black ooze. Bits of flesh and random bits of god-knows-what splattered onto their face. A painful screech emitted from the Chimera and it began to move again. The body relented, much to their relief, but the sand persisted. Body shook, stuck in place as the chimera continued with its search for food. Pupils slowly grew from pinpoints, reality coming back to Metzli.

When they finally stumbled to their feet, red eyes fell onto their injured partner and scared sister who was asking them what to do. What else was there to do but kill it? The hunger would never cease, and wasn’t that a hell on its own? Poor beast didn’t ask to be made. Like Macleod said, it was just a babe. An innocent animal that was too broken since its birth. Metzli had worked on a farm long enough to know what the answer was. They didn’t like it, and they knew Macleod really wouldn’t like it, but it was the only way. Swallowing, they finally answered defeatedly. “We can’t, Cass. I’m sorry.”

The Chimera didn’t like the feeling of pain. It just wanted to eat. It needed to eat. Thrashing at the things hurting it didn’t bear any fruit. Only seemed to tire it out with each swing they evaded. But they had one of them in their sights now. It was on the ground, spewing delicious contents. The chimera wanted those contents.

Metzli crouched and leapt towards the swinging limb that was heading toward Eilidh, not letting it connect with their partner. The power behind it pushed their body a few inches, but they planted their feet well and had secured the head in their hands. Other heads snapped teeth, crashed into everything clumsily, and fought hard to move, but Metzli wouldn’t let go. The head they had in their grasp provided enough cover from the other two thankfully. “Amor, I think we have to put it down. It’s suffering. It will never stop suffering.” They waited for an answer, hoping it’d come soon as their fingers were sinking further into the decayed and burned flesh.

The trio reformed back on the ground. Eilidh hardly had the attention to spare to give them both their dues. Glancing only enough to ensure they weren’t dead or close to, before focusing back on the beast that wanted such things. Her hands continued in motion to stop that fate. Though her ears remained with the two, for those grunts and shrieks from the chimera were lost on her. Catching that opposition in tone. Words were hard to capture, but meaning was still found in the inflections. The hesitation of the masked one, which she wanted to nurture to opposition. Until it was shot down by the bleak resolution of Metzli. Want of coaxing died, replaced with a need for quarrel. Her own harsh tones readying to mix with the others. But the limbs heading her way grew in number. Making her waiting words become simple growls.

Eilidh kept up that constant whacking. Power from before lost as her energies were split between healing and defending. It was just enough to keep the claws at bay, but only enough. She nearly dealt one blow on Metzli as they jumped between. Letting out a bark of fear, she reeled back. Managing to merely clip Metzli instead of bludgeon. She hardly had the space to feel remorse, as Metzli continued their resistance. “They’re just fucking hungry!” That was what babies did: they hungered. Even the smallest wailed under its might, and this poor thing had the size to make it unbearable. But only until they were fed. The town a suitable offering, but she had already dashed that idea. Humans would crumble under its might. It would cause devastation — lead to too much bloodshed. And the hunters… Oh, they would love to kill this poor babe, wouldn’t they? She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction — those who killed for mere pleasure.

Eilidh looked to the one whose name still escaped her. “There is a thing to do.” Metzli may not see it, but she would sway both. All she needed was to find food. To the woods. The woods, yes! All hers came from such, a bearer of many. She stepped further back, practically swimming, and… swimming… Oh! All water leads to its Mother, the ocean. Yes. Yes. Yes. The woods would be convenient, but the ocean! Mother of all, and the protector of many. Embraced by her darkness — nursed by her creations. Yes! The babe would find many to eat and many to contend, for she’s a mother of dangers too. A death that would be put to use. But first, it could live. Eilidh went further into the depths until her feet no longer found the bottom. The current whisked her away; into a darkness she knew would end in salt waters. “C’mon, leanab! To food! To food!”

In the movies, the heroes always won. The losses happened, sure, but they were an afterthought. A thing behind the scenes, a quick shot of something tragic that was quickly swept away by the triumph that followed in the next heartbeat. Real life was never so cut and dry. In real life, being a hero meant that sometimes, you couldn’t save everyone. Sometimes, there was a bird and it was young and pained and suffering through an existence it hadn’t asked for, brought upon it by someone who’d never once considered what it might want, and you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t convince its wings to carry it off the ground, couldn’t talk its beaks into consuming something without hurting. There were some birds that would never fly. Cass ached with it, just a little.

But… in spite of Metzli’s words, Macleod seemed to have another idea in mind. She didn’t voice her plan aloud, and Cass certainly didn’t know her well enough to wager a guess, but the eagerness to her voice, the way her eyes lit up, it seemed to imply that there was something she thought might work. And Cass didn’t know if she trusted her, still, but she wanted a way to save this bird. She wanted to push away the idea that there were some things that were just lost causes, wanted to bury her head in the proverbial sand and pretend that any bird could get off the ground if only it was given a chance.

She couldn’t jump into the water with Macleod, not with the chimera thrashing about the way it was. Unlike the two undead in her company, Cass still kind of needed to breathe. And she enjoyed breathing. It was, frankly, one of her favorite hobbies. What she could do was run alongside the pair on the riverbank, ready to coax the chimera back into the water if it tried to climb out. Whatever Macleod’s plan was, it seemed to hinge on the bird staying in the river. And since it wasn’t one fire as long as it was soaked, Cass tended to like the concept.

“Where are we going?” She called, glancing back at Metzli and hoping that they would have the answer if Macleod wouldn’t provide it. Macleod might not be an entirely reliable source, but Metzli was. And they knew the zombie. Well enough to get that soft look in their eyes when she was near, well enough to seem to know what she was planning even when she didn’t say as much in words, well enough to trust her entirely.

“No! Macleod, they’re not suffering because they’re hungry! They’re—” Metzli sighed, realizing that their partner’s gears were going at full speed in her head. She was coming up with a plan, and the confirmation was given by her excited proclamation. Bleary eyes looked to her and then to Macleod. A haziness attempted to take over their senses, still reeling from the panic that came with being buried underneath the chimera’s weight. Shaking their head, they recentered themselves and smiled, a hint of weariness clinging onto their lips as they swiveled around to acknowledge Cass and her question with a shrug.

Metzli had no idea what the plan was, but if it meant making two people they loved work together and happy by saving the creature, they’d do anything. “No idea where we’re going, but I do know if she has a plan, it’s best to not ask too many questions or you’ll get left behind.” Their hand grasped Cass’s, pulling her with them to trail after the chimera as it chased after Eilidh while she made herself enticing with each exclamation. Whatever was going to happen next, they knew they could trust Macleod. Even if something went wrong, she would put their lives above the creature, regardless of how badly she wanted to save it. They just needed to put themselves at her disposal, for whatever plan she had in mind.

“Cass, I’m gonna throw you onto its back! You’re gonna try to stay on there to steer it wherever we go, okay?!” Metzli pulled Cass’s hand without waiting for an answer, shifting her to stand on their shoulder as they ran, and threw her into the air. Her trajectory was straight and true, landing her straight onto the beast. Metzli stopped to watch for a few moments, ensuring she was safely planted before bounding forward to run beside Eilidh with the chimera in tow behind them. “Just tell me where to be and what to do, and I’ll do it. Promise.”

The Chimera’s hatred for the water meant nothing compared to the hunger. It saw its prey slip into its hold, and it simply had to follow, letting that thief take it in full. Those screams and calls drew it closer; made it learn to swim in their persuasion. Focus fully placed, until there was a change in weight. The waters rising higher on its body as a force pushed it down. Small, but not unnoticeable. There was a piercing shriek in its throats, a start to turn its many heads. But the calls in the water grew louder and more frequent, beckoning them back to the current. The source, the prey, easier to see even in the dark.

“Aye! Look to me! Just me! Swim!” Eilidh called out, stubbornness not letting its eyes off of her. Keeping its course true. The fire in her belly was quieting, as if the waters could douse them too. Returned some strength to her limbs, for it was no longer divided. A much needed return — the current was strong but it was not swift. And the beast had many compared to her four limbs; all of hers needed to work to keep ahead. Yet, in the departing flow of her weakness, a hunger was left. Filled in the void in her stomach, same as that regrowing tissue. Teeth chattered at the babe, calling the predator inside. She wouldn’t let herself; couldn’t let herself. Except, perhaps, a little. A head stretched out, latching onto just water thrice as she maneuvered away. But the fourth struck true, and she bit in return. Its fangs latched onto her arm, her own gripping its snout. The great maw tried to break her arm, release it from the rest of her. Yet as it pressed down, those bones merely bent with the pressure instead of snapping. The flesh of the maw, though, slipped into her throat with the ease of decay. She grumbled in delight at the offering, as her other hand repeated that recurring rhythm: whack, whack, whack. The beast finally released her, but not empty handed. It too retrieved offerings; the maw dripping in black, leaving chunks of her arm bare. From those new voids birthed more chatterings in her mouth.

“THE OCEAN!” Eilidh tried to speak to her love in a normal manner, but it was hardly more than a snarl. The predator nestled in head, in her teeth. Wanted more flesh and saw one who had so much to offer. She mustn’t. It was a babe, it was a babe, it was a babe. And yet her eyes looked at the babe, the beast, the prey with the same look as it gave her. Only a matter of time before the two devoured each other, hunger finally satisfied in their shared deaths. She licked her lips, the taste so lovely despite the dread in her chest. She mustn’t. She won’t. Sounds of the approaching ocean reminded her of that gentle side, the one who still wanted to nurture. The one who saw a poor baby and did the most natural thing: try and help. The one who was struggling to keep her hands to swimming inside of tearing away that sweet flesh. Her teeth continued to click, her hands continued to paddle — both sides at a stalemate.

It was clear that Metzli didn’t like the idea of saving the chimera, but it was also clear that they’d go along with it so long as Macleod and Cass were in agreement. And despite the distrust gnawing at her gut, despite the unease she felt with Macleod near, despite the memory of that dark night and that dead man and those vampires who got away even though they probably shouldn’t have, Cass knew that she and Macleod were in agreement on this. The chimera hadn’t asked to be born from an egg, drenched in the confusion of an existence it didn’t understand. It didn’t deserve to die for that. It didn’t.

So they surged forward. Cass nodded at Metzli’s words, climbed onto their shoulders and let them launch her through the air without a moment’s hesitation because she trusted them so completely, so entirely. She grabbed at the chimera’s centermost head, used it to steer the beast while Macleod baited it from the front. She let herself think things would be fine, things would be good.

And then, Macleod started taking bites out of the bird.

The horror twisting in her gut had little to do with the chimera, despite how much she’d latched onto the beast and its neverending metaphor. Cass knew it had far more to do with that night in the woods, with the dead man and the guilt his bloody corpse left her with. The reaction wasn’t even entirely one she meant to have — it was instinctive. She saw Macleod pull away from the bird with flesh in her mouth, and she flinched back with her arms still circling its head. She flinched back, and she pulled the bird’s head back with her. It changed direction to compensate, but there wasn’t much space in the river, wasn’t much room.

It hit one side of the riverbank, panicking when it did. Swimming was such a new sensation for it; it didn’t know how to keep afloat among the chaos of it all. It was almost funny; Cass would have thought that, with the size of the thing, it would sink like a boat. Slowly capsizing, lowering itself down bit by bit. But the reality was quicker than that. It sunk all at once, flailing limbs it hardly knew what to do with, sending blood into the water, and Cass couldn’t tell which way was up. The bird’s panic felt contagious, seeping into her where she held it, spreading through her veins. She barely had enough time to gulp a breath of air before she was underwater, so tangled with the chimera that it was hard to tell which bird was which.

If it had been months before, Metzli wouldn’t have understood Eilidh’s snarl, but they spoke the tongue of her hunger now, and knew immediately what she planned for the chimera. Nature called for water to flow and congregate, this one just so happened to go to the ocean, where the creature could feed without hurting much else. Yes, that plan would work. For all parties. Darting forward on land, they watched as Cass managed to steer the chimera into a manageable position and how it even failed to find purchase to escape the current. It was just too deep. And that made panic set in quite visibly, sending Metzli into a panic themselves. Both Macleod and Cass were in danger and they went hurtling into the water. “Cass! Macleod!” If they weren’t quick, one would drown and one would lose themself in a way they’d regret. They couldn’t let either happen.

Metzli lost sight of both their loved ones, watching them be swept under. Without hesitation, they dove, causing anxiety to rise as darkness surrounded them. They too wanted to match the panicked energy that had been released into the air, but they couldn’t. Pushing past it, Metzli wrapped each arm around Macleod and Cass, kicking off of the chimera to shove them to the surface and provide momentum to its new destination.

Eilidh fought back, thrashing and wanting to be set free, but they didn’t budge, despite how exhaustion was beginning to set in. “Querida! It’s okay. It’s okay! It’ll get to the ocean. It will. It’s free. Cálmate, por favor. You saved it.” Metzli maneuvered their way to the edge of the river and helped Cass back onto land, staying in with Macleod as she continued to thrash. They knew how reactive she could get and wanted to ensure Cass was safe while they tended to their partner.

There was darkness. Swirling and churning — turning Eilidh’s world into its making. As if she was stuck in that growing void inside, the one where her hunger laid. Made herself lost to it in those moments. The light came, as it eventually did with varying degrees of urgency, but not by her own doing. Forced into it just as the dark, but that need to bite remained. The only thing that felt like a given choice. So, thrash and bash she did. Knowing nothing but that someone, something, was on her. Grabbing her. Wanting to steal from her; to cover her in so many cracks that only the hunger could remain. And she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She still needed to help and the hunger was not compliant. But then, she heard that familiar voice. Close to her ears: urgent but soothing. There was a sudden pause, caused by a sudden confusion. More flailing followed, but they more like echoes. Softer. Simply wanting to be set free, so they could be used to swim. To guide. Yes! The chimera. She needed to guide the chimera. But she was no longer in the depths of those waters, her feet able to stand. No. That wasn’t right. She needed to return.

Eilidh twisted around in Metzli’s hold. Looking back out to that shimmer in the dark — to that current she wanted to be swept back up in. But there were breaks in the twinkling waters. Patches of dark that were moving, where parts of the submerged beast breached. All advancing towards the waves, until they wrapped the babe in their hold. Pulled it into the ocean’s welcoming embrace. Her growl was still there, having made its home in her throat, but her tone was lighter. Much lighter. “Go! Go, you fucking Eun Uisge!”

The waters were heavy and constricting. Nothing like the air the Chimera was made for. It knew so deep in its core even if the sky would never grace its wings. Knew so deeply it tried to go up, again, in a blind attempt to be free. But the current was unrelenting, and it had nothing to show for its efforts. Simply pulled further down and further out. Spat out into an emptiness, but it was not a lonely one. Nearby, the beast could see it. Movement. And wants of scurrying creatures or of distant twinkling left its thoughts. Hunger focused on the closest prey, and its limbs were sent into a frenzy trying to get closer. Those wings joined the excitement, and they all felt a give. A give that did not end in a crash, in a burst of pain and frustration, but in movement. Awkward bursts of such, as all its movements had been. But it was movement. Assured movement. And after many fumbles and incorrect directions, those wings found a rhythm. Made it feel, for the first time in its short life, deep in the waters of the ocean, that it could fly. And it flew. To the food that did not fight back, but surrendered to its many mouths. It wasn’t enough, not nearly. But it was a start.

The water was deep and cold and dark. Cass forced her eyes open, but she couldn’t see anything beyond murky shapes, couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down. She was a decent enough swimmer, but not when she couldn’t tell what she was meant to be swimming towards. Not when there was a patchwork bird flailing around and a hungry zombie snapping at the currents. Her lungs burned, and she pursed her lips together tightly to keep herself from inhaling the water instinctively, grit her teeth beneath them. It was pointless. She was going to drown, was going to die because of her own stupid mistakes, was going to —

An arm wrapped around her midsection. Foolishly, her first instinct was to kick against it, to fight her way free, but after a heartbeat she realized she recognized the tightness of the hold. Metzli. If there’d been air in her lungs, she would have heaved a sigh of relief. As it was, she only relaxed and let them do all the work to get her to the surface.

When they pushed passed the water and onto the shore, Cass sucked in a greedy breath of air, gasping and sputtering. She’d barely met the ground before she was turning back to the river frantically, searching for the creature. Beaks broke the surface, the current pulling the bird towards the ocean, and Cass understood now. In the air, the bird would never be able to fly. But in the water? It could. She sighed, swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat.

Tentatively, she turned back to her undead companions. “It’ll be okay, right?” There was an apology hidden behind the words, but Cass was only good at saying those out loud when she didn’t mean them. She wasn’t good at apologizing when she was sorry. She only knew how to do it in moments of desperation.

She held her breath until Metzli nodded in affirmation, then let the air whoosh out of her lungs all at once. The bird would be okay. Maybe the rest of them could be, too.

[grantcontrol]

Heartless, Swarmless ◈ Anton ⁺ Eilidh

Timing: Some time last week Location: White Crest National Park Parties: @braindeacl & @grantcontrol Summary: Anton and Eilidh meet for the first time and end up going on a trip because of some overgrown spiders. Now they know how a hairball feels. Content: Insect, spiders, vomit (not theirs), a lot of cursing

“This better not be one of those prank calls.” With an annoyed groan and a mildly disinterested sigh, Anton begrudgingly parked the white van with his company’s name in bold letters on its side into the otherwise empty designated parking space of the White Crest National Park. He faintly remembered his late grandfather taking him to this place when he was just a tiny tot, though for the life of him, he could no longer recall anything else about that visit. Park’s big, that about sums up all he knows of the place now. 

Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions received the call while he was about to Netflix and chill, and while their so-called employer insisted on staying anonymous on the other end of the line, the Girl verified that whoever they were, they had already paid in full. Online. Anton wasn’t too savvy about how that whole thing worked but he trusts the Girl in these matters. Why would she lie? She was getting her pay from the same account, and as much as she doesn’t respect him, at least not on the surface, she can’t deny that they both need the money. Besides, he had already seen the same zombie movie at least three times.

Dragging himself out of the vehicle, he took his time making his way to the back of it where his tools waited for him. Most of it was standard exterminator gear. The rest? Just a few contingencies from his less public career as a pest hunter. Also a jar of peanut butter, but that’s not for him. “Where do I even fucking start?” He wasn’t even inside the park yet when he started complaining. Overgrown spiders. That’s what the caller said they were. The size of a dog? Anton already knew what they actually were. His late grandfather hated the damned things, and there was no doubt he’d hate them, too. If he even gets to find them.

It started with a deer. A family had been perusing about one of the main trails. One of the supposedly safe trails. They had stopped to gaze upon a grazing doe. The child had begged and begged and begged to be placed on their father’s shoulders, and they got their wish just as the deer began to move. The small group watched in awed silence as she inspected the forest floor, searching for her next meal. But before she could find it, the forest floor made a meal of her. It opened up wide, gripped her tight, and pulled her below. Similar instances followed, and the Park was sent into a frenzy. Eilidh, naturally, made herself involved.

Talks of eradication filled the office. But they were too afraid to state anything plainly, too afraid to even admit that they knew what truly lurked within the nearby wood. Eilidh was more direct. “Fuck no.” These creatures, these carachs, only crime was existing in view of humans. It was clear her perspective was not the majority. The carachs posed a threat, and while it had yet to be acted on, they would not wait until it was too late. Eilidh offered a solution. Let her try. The Park was full of restricted areas away from any wandering pedestrian. Away from this potential threat. They could be relocated there. Let her try.

So, she would try. Alone.

Whatever. Less eyes meant she could utilize all of her abilities. After taking a moment to secure some supplies, which became nestled within her backpack, she headed off onto her task. And was immediately struck with the sight of Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions glaring back at her. “Those cunts!” Someone must’ve called while she was distracted, because no one had made any clear moves to dissuade whoever the vehicle belonged to, for it sat undisturbed. “This is a National Park, you don’t call a fucking exterminator!” She yelled at one of her coworkers who made the mistake of walking by. They simply stared with frightened eyes, having no clue what she was talking about. With a frustrated shout, she ran over to the car. When a man, supposedly the owner, came into view, she pointed threateningly. “No! No! Fuck off! We don’t need your kind of help!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! That’s not a very warm welcome.” On any other day, Anton would’ve smirked at the sight of a tiny angry person screaming at her, what the much taller man definitely finds hilarious. For some reason. But today was not one of those days. Anton was tired. Anton was exhausted. Anton just wanted to get this job done. “What seems to be the problem, ma’am? We’re just responding to a call.”

Yes, he was, but no, he already knew what the problem was. The damn carachs, of course. He should’ve expected they’d find their way to a place like this, a place big enough where they could hide somewhere and eat something without the prying eyes of the more mundane humans. Unfortunately, the eight-legged freaks must’ve messed up, one of those mundane creatures saw them do something, and now Anton and his need for money was caught in the middle of the overgrown spiders and whatever the heck this small but pretty attractive woman’s problem was.

“I’m Anton. Anton Grant.” He thought introducing himself would make any difference, offering her one of his patented charming smiles that didn’t actually have that much of a success rate, if only serving to catch others off-guard for a brief moment or two. He doubled down with an extended hand, his dark brown eyes moving from her towards the other park personnel whose own curiosities lured them to this less than pleasant encounter. 

“Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions, the best pest control service in town, by the way, is here to help. Someone called about…” He looked around them before leaning in for a whisper. “...a spider problem…” He then moved back to resume the normal volume of his voice. Just in case one of those other personnel would end up a potential customer. “We’re here to take care of it. Professionally.”

Out of a misguided attempt to sound professional, he emphasized the pronoun we throughout his spiel, even though it was clear as day that he was alone.

Eilidh rolled her eyes, not feeling any guilt for her outburst. “Respond to another call.” She wasn’t even given a second of trust before she was undermined by this outsourced ‘help.’ While she truly loved her job and the opportunities it presented to her, sometimes she hated the other people involved. Even though most were relatively sympathetic, there was still a clear bias against the supernatural. Even with visitors outwardly acknowledging the dangers, if someone cried monster too many times, the monster must be dealt with. Often cruelly. Always have to keep up pretenses. Even here.

As ‘Anton’ flashed a smile, she only blinked in response, already trying to forget the name. His hand extended forward, perhaps in an attempt at peace. Eilidh chose the opposite. Her own palms placed firmly on her hips with no want of moving. The effect was lost as another took his offered hand, whether from genuine interest or to alleviate some of the tension set ablaze by her passions. Didn’t matter either way. Angry eyes locked onto them and fearing they too would get caught in the flame, they yielded, taking a step back. The two of them still had an audience, but a ring of emptiness encircled them. A distinction between onlooker and participant.  

A spider problem. The way it was spoken, as if a secret, like so many that filled this town, showed her he was probably aware of what truly lurked out there. An actual professional. Or an overconfident fool. So, either someone who could actually do damage, or someone whose death would add more fuel to the fear. Neither alternative would be beneficial. “Look, I ‘ave the ‘spider problem’ handled. So, get the fuck out of-”

She was interrupted by a voice from behind. A superior. They informed her that the Park was exploring all the options given to them. And that if her idea worked, the exterminator wouldn’t need to do his job anyway. Said in a way that was clear they wanted to scream fuck just as Eilidh had and will again, but professionalism prevented such a thing. Pretenses, pretenses. So, her options were clear. Work fast, and maybe, maybe be able to save some of the carachs… Fuck, she didn’t even have a clear plan! But the other conclusion was all the carachs dead, for she wasn’t fast enough.

She looked at Anton. Then bolted into the woods. 

There is no other call. Anton wanted to just dryly tell her the truth, that his line of work wasn’t as stable as hers, and because of that, he needs to respond to every call he gets. Otherwise, his late grandfather might start haunting him, too, for letting his business go down the drain. Like his body. The past few weeks were pretty good for Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions, though, which was a little odd to think and smile about right then and there, considering he technically should thank all the bugs and rodents he had to put down for always keeping him warm and fed.

“Okay…” The lady was as rude as she was cute confirmed. Fortunately, she wasn’t the only park personnel around, and he gave the more courteous one a nod and the most charming smile he could ever muster. A stolen glimpse of the still infuriated rude woman, however, slowly chased that smile off of his face. Like she chased the other employee off. Without even moving. Damn, she’s good. He’d almost believed that she did have everything under control, too, because despite her size and her rudeness, her fire reminded her of someone else’s, someone who proved him wrong and handled herself beyond his misinformed expectations. But then someone else stepped forward and corrected her. Oof.

“Well then, I guess if there’s nothing else…” He almost gulped when she looked back at him, his mind already wincing even though it was just one look. The last thing he needed was to get slapped, punched, or even kicked between the legs. He’s suffered all three before, in public, so he was always wary of those possibilities. Still, he had a job to do, especially now that the rest of the park seems to be on his side more than hers. “I’ll just—” He cut himself off when she bolted into the woods. Okay… I guess she really hates my guts. Turning to the rest of the personnel, he just offered them a shrug before calmly walking behind her, as another quickly briefed him on their spider problem. 

She ran. And ran. Eilidh wasn’t even sure what she was going to do when she got to her destination. But she knew how to run. So, run she did.

A patch of dirt caught her attention. Small circle of brown contrasting the great expanse of green. It hadn’t been there the day before. Odd. Curiosity compelled her forward, and curiosity paid off. As a foot just barely pressed upon the transitional point between grass and ‘dirt,’ the ground stirred, revealing it wasn’t ground at all. The carach was only the size of a football, but it attacked her with the ferocity of a lion. Fangs pierced her leg, injecting it with a paralyzing agent. But as it worked its way through her body, it couldn’t take hold. She knelt down, the carach still clinging to her leg, as if waiting for its toxins to strip her of all movement. She simply held it in her unaffected hands. It lurched forward, and after a moment of struggle, it escaped from her. It returned to its burrow. She fished out a tarp from her bag. Repeating the previous steps, the carach was once again in her grasp, but before it could escape her, she wrapped the tarp around its body, securing the ends in tight fists.

It fought. Desperately. Holes formed in the tarp as its eight legs went haywire. But not enough to fully rip. After a tense moment of struggle, on both the carach’s and Eilidh’s part, all motion ceased. Acceptance. She picked up the makeshift carach carrier. The contents gave one last struggle before calming again. But this all wasn’t a victory yet. She started running again, but slower, taking care not to jostle her unwilling companion. After a satisfying amount of distance was achieved between her last and current position, she opened the tarp. The carach sprung forward. When it landed, it immediately took off. Time to see if this would work. She watched as the creature scurried for a minute, before settling into the ground just as it had been when she first found it. Success!

She should probably get more tarps. Bigger tarps.

Turning back to where she came, she headed back for more supplies.

Into the Woods was a movie Anton enjoyed, though not everyone shared the notion. As he made his way through the park’s main trails, where the supposed tragedy had happened, Anton couldn’t help but hum along to the titular song that he was playing through his phone. Once he was where he thought he needed to be, the exact spot where the carachs consumed their hapless victims, he warily took out his spear and started prodding the forest floor. Since the eight-legged freaks were fond of burrowing into the ground, with their abdomens mimicking  piles of leaves, or even rocks, it was the best option he had to draw them out. If his spear made contact with any part of them, especially their abdomens, then they’d spring up, almost instinctively, but instead of pinning him to the ground, they’d be wrapping their long, spindly legs over his spear, and that would expose them, ripe for the slaying. “I’m such a freaking genius.”

Except, geniuses should have expected that there would be more than enough carachs to deal with, and some of those would be bigger than a mouse. It took Anton a couple of pokes on the ground but he managed to draw one out, a small carach, and immediately pierced it in its stomach. Carachs were venomous creatures, after all, and in this case, it was either them or him. He's been paralyzed by their bite before. Fortunately, he's never experienced the second type of carach venom. Until now.

At first, he thought it was just adrenaline rushing through his veins, the excitement of surviving an otherwise dangerous encounter. But then his heart beat continued to race, and faster it did so. "What the hell?" Taking a step back, he tried to force his eyes closed before opening them in a misguided attempt to "see better". He could feel his pulse now, his very heart breaking, as a vision of his daughter being taken away from him while he was utterly helpless, locked behind bars, trapped in a cage like some animal, haunted him in daylight. Looking around him, he realized his vision was also starting to blur. Panic was setting in. “Fucking spiders.” He uttered, cursing them, before dropping to the ground face-first, clutching his chest, struggling to reach something, someone, but he was alone. “Can’t believe... I’m gonna die... To these smug assholes…”

The two intercepted as she was on her way back to the main building. Barely crawling around on the ground, Eilidh almost missed him. She considered pretending she did. No one else was around. The forest was so, so, so big. And she was so, so, so busy. Who would fault her? But as a large carach made its move towards the easy meal, something inside her pushed her to act.

Skin crashed against exoskeleton, the force from her lunge sending both her and the carach falling into a nearby bush. As she tried to get her composure, she was met with long, sharp legs beating down on her. Enough to break skin, muscle. Enough to pierce through a chest. She punched one of those legs, enough to contort her wrist into a weird angle. She snapped it back into place. In a brief opening, she sent a kick into the hard abdomen hovering above, with enough force to shatter bone if she were human. The carach shivered and leapt back, unnerved by the attack on its vulnerable spot. Eilidh was free.

She rolled from the bush, using the propulsion to end the motion in a kneel. She unsheathed the dagger from her thigh. While she wanted to help the carachs, like hell she was going to let herself be a punching bag. The two watched each other, neither wanting to make the first move. The carach was the first to bow out, choosing to save its energy for easier prey. It disappeared behind the trees. For now.

She inspected the damages. Tears and rips littered her clothes, some even threatening to make her ‘indecent.’ Hidden within those tears were gashes and cuts that had already shown signs of healing. Could’ve been better, but not bad. She turned to the downed man. “See? I have it handled.” Part of her wondered if he could even hear her in his current state.

Even as he writhed on the damp ground of the national park, the feeling of death’s cold, icy grip tight around his panicked heart, Anton could not rein in a playful smirk, his dark brown eyes delighted at the sight of Eilidh, especially the ‘aftermath’ of the battle. 

“O-oh, hey!” He twitched under her feet, jaws and hands clenching as he tried to fight the carach’s venom. “You came looking for m-me? I was definitely wrong: ...you do c-care.” He tried to flash her his most charming smile yet but could only muster a weak one, barely a smile, more a wince or a grimace than anything else. “What are you?”

The “fractoxin” that was coursing through Anton’s veins might be dangerous in large doses, but the exterminator, despite how things appeared at the moment, was still a pest hunter, born and trained to deal with such monsters. As such, his body was a little more resistant to these things compared to that of regular humans, still not as resistant as what Eilidh was apparently, and he healed a bit faster, too. It helped that the predator only injected him with a small dose, enough for the sensation that tricked him into believing he was already at Death’s door when once again Death dared not have him anywhere close. Probably preferred a warm meal to a cold one.

It took his body some time to fully heal, though a sense of disorientation, dizziness, and a modicum of weakness still remained over him. Most hunters, at the realization that a small angry woman just saved them from a hungry carach, especially a pest hunter, would have been much warier at their presence, if not a little more apprehensive. Anton was not like most hunters, however, and he was more excited, if not simply interested, at the unexpected turn of events. 

Dragging himself to a nearby tree for a much-needed rest, gasping for air every now and then as he clutched his arm throughout, he gestured to where the dog-sized carach disappeared into with a smile. “That thing can’t roam free in the park... You know that, right? Unless you find a place for it, for them, more innocent, stupid people will die.” 

Her eyes squinted at the question. What are you? Eilidh could tell he was still fighting off the effects of the toxins. Perhaps he was even in a state of mind to not remember her words. But she refrained from the truth, or any type of answer. She went back to inspecting her clothes, trying to see what could and couldn’t be salvaged.

Hunger crept up inside her. Forming in the gut, then working its way until it resided deep in the mind. Not enough to make her lose control. But enough to be a constant thought in the back of her head. While the attack was brief, and she would walk away with no scars, the exertion still had a price. She stared off into the trees, thinking about what her next meal would be, when Anton’s words brought her back.

She thought about the tarp idea, then gave her body one last look over. The idea might work for all the little ones, but the one she just faced? No. It would tear anything she could find in short notice into confetti. Fuck. She wracked her brain for another idea. But her knowledge on the creature was limited, her experience even less so. So, nothing immediately came to mind. She couldn’t just tuck her tail in and give up, though. Not yet. Think, think! A scene from earlier replayed in her mind. One of her coworkers had described one of the gruesome deaths. A missing heart was one of the details. Hearts. That might work.

“Wait here.” She turned to leave but stopped halfway. While he seemed to be in better shape than before, it was clear Anton was in no shape to defend himself. One more departing thought. “Try not to die.” Into the treeline. She was gone.

Several minutes passed, and when she returned, she seemed in much higher spirits. Her clothes, on the other hand, had a new layer of dirt on them. One hand was red, stained in blood. Cradled in the hand was a heart that had recently lost its beat. “Don’t ask.” She lifted her hand. “They like hearts, yeah?” Without a word of explanation, she headed in the direction of where the carach had disappeared into, eyes intently facing the ground.

“Yes... Carachs eat hearts, and will often lay their eggs in empty chest cavities... Where did you get that?” Anton squinted at the bloody muscle she held when she returned. He had followed her when she disappeared, dark brown eyes on her like a moth to flame but made no effort to move, taking instead the opportunity to rest a while. He was already back on his feet, stretching his limbs and massaging his joints, when Eilidh came back.

“You know, it’s actually quite the theme since one of their two types of venom, fractoxin, gives their victim this feeling of heartbreak, and in large doses, that feeling becomes more of the actual thing.” With his hand rhythmically but softly tapping his chest, he mimics the sound of a heartbeat, once, twice, thrice, slowing down as he goes, before making the final one more of an explosion, a heart exploding, the complete opposite of what happens when the heart stops. “Some people actually farm the tiny ones. For the fractoxin. Sells good money in the…” He cuts himself off, finally realizing that he’s been explaining too much, especially to someone he wasn’t sure yet was of the same community. ...supernatural community.

“Wait!” Anton instinctively followed her when she started to leave, grabbing his spear along the way. He didn’t even get to tell her of their proportions and exoskeleton, how injuring them without a sharp weapon like his would be tough. Those legs, not unlike hers, were pretty damn dangerous, too. Is she also a climber? “We need to strike them in the stomach, where they’re vulnerable! Or toss them into the sea or at least a nearby lake!”

When he caught up with her, his eyes grew wide in horror. Well, more of surprise than actual fear. Anton didn’t fear a lot of things. Or at least he tells himself that every time he goes to sleep. Some glowing rift in time and space, an interdimensional portal of sorts, from which a slime-covered overgrown spider, most likely the same one that tried to eat him earlier, was struggling with its two free legs to pull itself away? Anton didn’t fear that. Definitely not. He gulped. “...or that. That looks like a good place to leave them in.”

Eilidh took note of the information he freely offered. Fractoxin. Nice to put a name to what she assumed the smaller carach had shot into her leg. Seeing an example of the effects, she wasn’t surprised they farmed for it. Just concerned about how it was given… or taken. Concern for another time. The mention of a freshwater body was interesting. She had been under the—misguided it seemed—impression that only salt water affected carachs. Looks like she had some reading to do. 

He seemed to know a lot about carachs. Was it a result of having to adjust to White Crest, or were supernatural creatures his real targets? Either way, she stored the knowledge for future use. But the context it was given brought her eyebrows down, scowl forming. “There’s no we. I’m trying to relocate them. Or did that fractoxin fuck with your head?” She flicked her hand at him, meant to emphasize her point. But the motion caused a few drops of blood to be flung out. An apology wasn’t given.

The sight before her made all sourness inside her crumble away. A giant, glowing gash hovered just a few feet away. It was like the very universe had been wounded. Or perhaps it was more like a mouth. A mouth that was in the middle of a meal. Ensnared in slime, a poor carach tried to free itself from its great maw. Its remaining legs scurried desperately against the ground. Puncture marks littered the soil before it, yet it did not, could not, move forward. Only enough strength to keep it in that same, desperate spot. But that strength was waning, and it started to slip. Slip. Slip. In one last attempt, it stabbed the earth with all limbs, keeping it in that desperate spot. A second passed. Strength failed it once more. It was sucked into the wound. Gone.  

Eilidh blinked. Turning to Anton in the brief calm, she broke it with, “Do you think-” Something shot out at her. It gripped her tight, trapping her in that very same slime. Before she could even attempt to free herself, the world around her became a blur. It exploded into lights as she met the same fate as the carach. By the time she could process what had happened, she found herself tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down a wet tunnel. She grabbed a knife. Made it pierce into her new surroundings. The descent abruptly stopped. But she would not find peace. Just as the knife struck, a loud rumble shook the tunnel, carrying Eilidh along for the ride. It almost caused her to lose grip as moisture perforated everything. But her hands managed to hold firm. While the sound was all encompassing, based on the vibrations on her legs, she could tell it came adjacent to her. She looked up. Light shined down from her. But it came and went. Almost flashing, but not quite. She stared harder. Something disrupted the light on the edges. Something pointed.

Teeth.

“Oooooh, ya think you’re gonna eat me, huh?” Pulling out her other knife, she stabbed it just above where the first was struck. Her world shook again as the great sound pierced into everything. But still, she managed to hold. And so, she started to climb up. 

Anton has had blood splattered all over his face before but not like this. Never like this. Eilidh was not a gentle “first time”, he frowned, heaving a sigh as she continued to be rude at him. If he had the time to think, maybe in a few hours after this hellish encounter should he survive, he would realize that her reactions were perfectly normal. From the way things have developed, she did not seem like she was, well, normal. His late grandfather had told him stories about certain “weirdness” in White Crest, though for his part, Anton has had encounters with sentient creatures other than humans and hunters, creatures that pretended to be normal but weren’t, with some of those encounters even...intimate.

Shaking his head vigorously, he tried to shake those thoughts off, away. Now was not the time to go down “sexy memory lane”, Anton, he cursed himself in his head. Half-expecting Eilidh to lecture him yet again, he was caught surprised when she cut herself off, and in a split-second of panic, he found his hands dropping his spear, instead instinctively trying to grab at the strange woman, trying to pull her back to safety. There were no other thoughts that cluttered his mind. In that moment, he was focused on doing one thing and one thing alone: Not let the angry woman get taken by the interdimensional reproductive organ, as if she were a baby about to get reabsorbed by Mother Space-Time. “Fuck!”

Alas, Anton was ill-equipped to do that one thing. He found his hands slipping, the blood on hers not helping one bit. He managed to stand his ground, however, keep himself from falling back, to the ground on his ass. In one fluid motion, he gritted his teeth, furious at his own failure, before grabbing his spear and chucking himself into the portal. If the Girl was here, she would’ve described it as yeeting. 

Through the tunnel, he flew, though his eyes were closed as he tried his hardest to keep himself from screaming, barely succeeding. When it was all said and done, he landed with a sloppy thud a few steps behind Eilidh, a few seconds after her, like something just spat him out, his flavor a little too much for the universe's palate. “Well, that was a trip.” He quipped as he grabbed his spear tightly, having done the same as her, pierced what he could of the so-called tunnel to keep himself from getting swallowed by wherever, or whatever, he had been spat out into. Eyes adjusting to the blinking light from up above, he found the familiar form he had tried to save but failed, following right after her, using one of the many small knives he always had on his person whenever he was on a job. “I fucking hate this town.”

It took them some time, not helped by the fact that they were going against the grain, or something resembling that in wherever they were, but they managed to find solid respite from all the chaos and confusion. At least what resembled respite in wherever they were. Anton had learned not too long ago to abandon what he knew of mundane physics, which wasn't much to even begin with, when things like this were concerned. The exterminator may be one step above the mundane, but he was not a magic man, a spellcaster, and with the exception of the gifts he had received as a hunter, some he was born with, others he was trained for, he wasn't that far from being mundane himself. “Where the hell are we?”

Right as he asked that, the entirety of the tunnel shook again, as if an entire world was breaking in of itself. Anton turned behind him, his instincts telling him that something was about to happen from that very direction. “Uhh… Macleod? You might want to grab hold of some—” And just like that he was spat out again. Like a fish bone caught in a massive velvet worm’s throat. “I really fucking hate this town.”

While her ascent had started strong, the progress was… lacking. It was hard to climb a mountain when it was covered in slime and tried to buck you off like an angry horse. To make matters worse, the flesh wasn’t always so firm against her weight. Sometimes a puncture accidentally became a slash as it gave and she slid. Eliminating much needed progress. And further accelerating the bucking. Every motion had a consequence. The biggest would be found in letting go. “Fuck!” Again, she stabbed the flesh. “Fuck!” Again, she tensed as everything around shook violently. “Fuck this!” Again, she pulled herself up.

There was commotion from above, something that disturbed the light that was her destination. It rapidly grew until it became a man tumbling toward her, which she narrowly dodged. The whatever-the-hell the two were stuck in gave another shake, this time not caused by her. Once motion ceased, she dared a glance down. Anton looked up at her. Not knowing the noble origins of his arrival, she assumed he got taken off guard, same as her. “Really? I’d love to be in town right now, to be honest. Not this shit.” Especially since she had plans. Oh fuck, right! She had plans! Hopefully she wouldn’t keep Milo waiting too long.

With a small burst of determination, she continued upward. But her arms started to shake under the stress. Moisture punctured through her hands, her clothes, everything. It was suffocating. All encompassing. Like the cave. No, no, no, no, no, no. She needed to get out soon, wherever this was. “We’re on our way to be dinner, is what.” Her previous fire was starting to die. She was trapped. She was trapped again. Again. Trapped. Again. She needed her bliss. She needed her bliss. An unsteady hand searched desperately for it. “Fuck you, cunt!” She barked up at the taunting light.

The use of her name triggered something within her, her lost bite. “Who the hell told you-” She looked down, but Anton did not hold her attention for long. The same mucus that coated the walls of their prison was bubbling below them. Closer. And closer. One second it enveloped Anton. The next, herself. And finally, the two were flung onto solid ground.

Ground! Precious ground! She started kissing it passionately. But something was off. Pulling back, she stared down at the grass. Except, it wasn’t really grass. Deep inside, something told her what lay before lacked life. Lacked a soul. She looked around. Everything was like that. Trees covered the area, but she felt no comfort with them. Clearly distressed, she rapidly flung her head around, searching for something, anything. But her, Anton, and that thing, they were the only creatures to be seen. No buzz of an insect, song of a bird, or rustle of leaves. Just hollow trees.

Small hope was found when that same glowing gash came into view. Except it looked like it had been reflected into a mirror. Reversed, like a door. It must be a gateway! “Look!” She pointed it out to Anton. “Let’s get the fuck out-” The massive creature spewed its inner contents all over the ground again, and Eilidh had the misfortune of being covered in another layer of muck and gunk. It seemed like her torment would be coming to end as the flow slowed when thunk —something came crashing into her head. She fell onto her back with a squelch, the projectile landing right beside her. A key. Something seemingly small and inconsequential, but as she stared, her pupils dilated. Inner voice told her to take it, take it, take it! Following her impulses, she snatched the thing and struggled to get back on her feet.

The moment he felt something gross begin to swallow him up from beneath him, Anton immediately closed his eyes and held his breath. He knew that whatever would follow would be nothing he would enjoy, and he has enjoyed a plethora of questionable things, both morally and legally. He was right, for once in his life, and although it was technically not the worst thing he’s bathed himself in, he was relieved to find himself on solid ground once more, trying his best to get the gunk off of him properly. For fuck’s sake. 

It didn’t take him long to notice that something wasn’t right. Because it never really is. Shaking as much of the disgusting muck off of him, off of his clothes, he squinted as he wiped his eyes off of them as well, only to be greeted by not even a buzzing bee. Wasn’t it bee season? From everything bee-related that has happened to him in the past few weeks, his train of thought would be understandably logical. Yet nothing else was logical about where they were. At least the Girl isn’t here. That must be why it’s so quiet, so peaceful, so bliss— His train of thought was derailed when he laid eyes on the fucking thing that ate them. “What the hell is that thing? Jabba the LSD Hutt? That better not be a bug, I swear to god.”

Anton wouldn’t even have noticed the portal if Eilidh hadn’t screamed at him, his entire attention on their would-have-been predator. At the very least, he saw it coming, the creature puking yet again, allowing him to avoid most of the vomit that unfortunately Eilidh could not. Oh, man, my shoes. He whined in his head when a splatter of gunk from Eilidh flew on his shoes, which were already covered in more muck not too long ago. Then he realized something: His hands were not holding anything. Ah, fuck. His dark brown eyes wandered from them to the giant worm thing. It’s fucking stuck in its throat, isn’t it? That would explain its continual vomiting. That and the many stabbings Eilidh did on its insides.

Turning towards Eilidh when something hit her on her head, Anton finally caught a glimpse of the portal, that interdimensional moo-moo. Fuck it, we’re out of here. Not even hesitating to leave Eilidh behind, the exterminator wrapped his hands around her waist and just freaking hightailed it out of there, using his newfound adrenaline to yeet them both out of the gloomy hellhole like a pair of slippers his mother used to aim at his head whenever he became too annoying to deal with. 

Unfortunately, Anton was never a trained wrestler and both of them were more or less slippery from the giant creature’s vomit, so he struggled to keep his hands and arms around her, exerting more effort than was necessary, his face contorted in pain. “We’re gonna live past forty!” He screamed to keep his mind on something else.

The next thing he knew, he was lying down on his back, his vision a little blurry. He could almost take a nap then and there, his body exhausted. But then he remembered what just happened, the absolute grossness of it all, and did otherwise. Wiping more of the puke from his face, he just laid there, dark brown eyes staring at the sky, wondering if this was all worth anything. “Being alive takes so much effort.” He groaned. Oh, man, my spear.

Before she could fully rise, Eilidh felt hands on her. Instincts taking over, she struggled against their hold: fists struck against his back, legs kicked at his thighs. A scream rumbled in her chest, ready for release. But as Anton headed for the gateway, slipping and sliding along the unsteady ground but onward all the same, she realized what was going on. Oh. Confusion froze her, and amusement at his shitty attempt to navigate against all odds made her unsure how to react. The scream died before it began, and her limbs calmed: acceptance.

Facing opposite their retreat, she was able to fully focus on the creature for the first time. Under different circumstances, she would’ve been fascinated by the size, the beautiful colors, the entrancing eyes. Instead, she just looked at it with mild curiosity, dampened by frustration. It looked, no, glared back. It still quivered and rumbled from the ordeal, but it was quickly gaining composure. And was prepared to dish out some much needed punishment. From a protrusion on its head, the slime from before shot out, meant for them but it missed its mark. Instead, a tree a few meters from them became engulfed. The ooze shifting into a crystal prison was the last sight she saw before entering the gateway. Then everything blurred. And then became blinding.

Despite being able to focus this time, the second go-around was still as disorienting. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of lights. Crashing into the ground snapped them back open. She flopped on the hard surface like a dead fish; the impacts sounding just the same. She came to an ungraceful stop. Eyes quickly inspected her surroundings. A moth flew above nose. Life! The sight made her almost cry. She looked on further, up to the lively trees dancing in the wind, to the beautiful stars twinkling at her. Wait, stars? When did it become night time? Who cares, they were back. “Fuck whatever that was,” she grunted. “And don’t grab me like that again. That was terrible.” Despite her words, there was a hint of a chuckle on her lips.

The two enjoyed the well-earned peace, just laying there.

Which was the perfect position to avoid the slime projectile. It sped pass from above, missing them by a few inches. A bitter whisper hissed out of her, “Chan e seo a-rithist…” She turned her head just in time to see another mass of slime shoot out of the gateway. When that also failed to make contact with either of them, a third rocketed by. “Looks like someone’s pissed.” After the fourth slime also missed its target, the attempts ceased. But she doubted the creature gave up so quickly. She swatted at the closest thing of Anton’s she could, his shoes, in order to get his attention. “Get behind it.” She pointed at the gateway. With no idea how long this standstill would last, there was no time for explanations. Rolling onto her stomach, she quickly crawled, like a competitive baby, until the quieted rift was behind her. Supposedly safe—as long as the gateway only worked one-way—she finally rose to resting on her knees.

The motion jostled the mysterious key in her pocket. She suddenly remembered its presence. Right. That. A chill ran up her spine at the thought of it. With a shake of her head, it passed. For now. 

For a moment or two, Anton felt relieved at the sound of Eilidh’s voice, so relieved in fact that a short-lived chuckle escaped from his lips. Then he made the mistake of running his gunk-ridden hand over his mouth. Fucking hell. At least he still had the wits to NOT accidentally taste the damned thing. Gross. His brain was too distracted by the combined effort of what the fuck just happened and what the hell was still on him to realize the day had abandoned him, throwing him to the mercy of the dark night sky with only a spattering of stars to keep it all appropriately beautiful. 

Catching a glimpse of Eilidh’s hand, Anton turned towards her, wary about getting slapped for all his trouble. Then he found himself immediately surprised when he noticed more of the slime flying through the air. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Monkey see, monkey do, and Anton was on his belly before he knew it, crawling behind the portal. “Your park is super weird, lady.” Although he didn’t remember outright Eilidh’s suspiciously defensiveness towards her name, his subconscious helped him make the better decision to go with something else than his mispronounced rendition of what her parents had given her.  

Once behind enemy lines, or at least the enemy’s line of sight, he helped himself off the ground, though only sitting to catch his breath for a few seconds, a much-needed respite from everything else that had happened. His dark brown eyes wandered over Eilidh, his ears catching the brief jostling in her pocket. For another moment or two, he just stared at her before breaking out in laughter as the portal started slowly collapsing in on itself, as if it was never there, as if it never tried to be their grave. 

“Well,” He groaned as he forced himself back on his feet, battered and bruised. “I guess that’s that. Client only made mention of a single overgrown spider, and from the looks of things, that’s been taken care of.” He offered her a hand to help her back on her feet as well, more out of instinct than anything. As a pest hunter, Anton knew full well how it was better to fight together when there were more than one of him instead of doing otherwise, and both of them on their feet could prevent more surprises. “All’s well that ends well…”

By far, this was ostensibly the weirdest shit that has ever happened to Anton since he moved into town. The insect monsters were a given, considering his family’s history, but an interdimensional portal to god knows where and that freakishly massive monster? Now those would make for a great story. Now, however, he needed a bath and maybe dinner. He wondered if the Girl, the receptionist he inherited from his late grandfather, had already closed the office. She probably did, considering how she never liked to wait for him. Besides, she probably had more homework to worry about. Guess it’s dinner alone again. Beer and something that’s definitely not soup. He’s had enough soupy shit for the day.

Eyes locked. Body motionless. Eilidh’s fingers curled around the remaining dagger. Eyes focused. Body tensing. A predator ready to pounce. The gateway shifted; movement at last. But she was ready this time. Lifting her dagger, she—

The gateway disappeared.

Ah.

Laughter filled the air. In that moment of bewilderment and relief, Eilidh couldn’t help but offer her own. Everything was funnier when you were tired and a touch delirious. But it died in her throat when she remembered who she was laughing with. A cough replaced it. Her hand went to the ground. It played with the soil which had previously been bathed in otherworldly light. Otherwordly. The dirt rested on her fingers, unaware and uncaring of what had played above it. It sprinkled back to the rest of its brethren.

Gateways didn’t just appear. And there was no guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. There must’ve been something that caused it, right? Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; if there were secrets she would have to dig, perhaps literally. Maybe this was a special place, where the separation of this world and not was thin, easy to bend. Or tear. Her back straightened, searching hands retreating back to herself. An apology to the area lay on her tongue. But, wait, shouldn’t the Park know about something like that? Well, there were a lot of shoulds the Park refused to do. In fact, Anton just alluded to one of them. Despite her efforts, the carach died anyway. But a sense of defeat failed to find her. There was a silver lining. Its death provided nutrients for that massive creature on the other side of the door. Maybe they were connected. Like that fallen carach, maybe it used the gateway as its trapdoor. Hidden, until unsuspecting prey stumbled by. Maybe it sealed the gateway when the prey started biting back. Maybe, maybe.

Ignoring the offered hand, she stood, a dull ache pulsing through her limbs, but it was ultimately fatigue that wanted to pull her back down. “Are you gonna mention the giant caterpillar, or just claim all their hard work?” A twinkle of mirth lay in her eyes, but buried in exhaustion. Not really caring for an answer, she shooed him away with a flick of her wrist. “Bye now.” Hopefully he’d actually leave this time, his ‘duty’ fulfilled. She returned to surveying her surroundings. But gravity wanted to return her to the ground. And hunger told her to run, to hunt. She debated if it was worth looking for answers, or to just go back to her place, since she wasn’t in the mood for—Dance Macabre! Fuck! She fished out her phone. Her newly broken phone. Gunk seeped into every crevice, leaving nothing untouched. No matter how many times her thumb smashed on a button, no light came. Milo would just have to have fun without her. She stuffed it back where she found it with a huff.

Camel’s back officially broken, and curiosity no longer able to fuel her, she decided to leave the questions for another day. Let the Park fence off the area for some bullshit reason, and she’ll sneak in with the darkness of night to keep her secret. Either to find answers or wait and see if anything unfolds. But for now, as crickets chirped, and foxes chittered, and the breeze whistled by, reminding her she was alive, surrounded by life. It was time to return to her roots.

Retrieving her bag, she took off. Muscles cried at the strain, but teeth chattered in excitement. The thrill of the hunt. After a distance, her tattered clothes proved too restricting, the coat of slime stiffening, as if it too wished to turn crystal. So, she removed the garments. Naked under the starlight. And kept running. Running. Searching for prey.

[END]

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

[pm] Hey. Leg man. I'm signing you up for reseeding efforts. Since you lit the damn place on fire.

[pm] Hey. Normally I go by Kaden. I can't.

You don't want my help.

Not sure if I'm up for much of anything right now.

I don't know how to leave my ap

Right. Sure.

[nicsalazar]

@braindeacl​

[pm] [...] Am fine. Typical sort. [...] What bout you? Do you You still Are you you agai

.

[pm] Yeah? Uh. Better. Should I tell you about Solom things getting better. Actually, just wanted to say sorry. Real unprofessional of me to get in your face like that. I know you’re tough and shit but 

[braindeacl]

Pour Some Soil On Me | Eilidh & Kaden

SETTING: The Outskirts. TIMING:  Before Everyone Needs Kindness. PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Kaden reseed the clearing left by the fire. WARNINGS: N/A

Dragging himself out of the house felt like a chore in and of itself, and here Kaden was doing just that to do an actual chore. Gardening. It sounded boring. Couldn’t the forest just fix itself? Nature was usually good about that, wasn’t it? Still, he knew that Macleod had a point when she suggested this. The whole space had become unnatural and together they had turned it brittle and then to ashes. Hell, he turned more than just the plants into ashes. The sight of the leshy crumbling and going up in flame sat in his vision as he closed his eyes. He tried to shake it away. What did it matter now? He couldn’t take it back, he couldn’t give back one more life he’d taken. It was left in a pile with all the others he’d stolen. Too much death, more than he could atone for. He supposed walking into the barren clearing now was one step in the right direction. Maybe. “I’m here,” he called out once his shoes hit soot. “What now?” He hoped she came prepared because he sure wasn’t. Hell, he wasn’t sure if his shirt was on right side out. He remembered to put on shoes, right? He looked down. No socks. But two shoes that matched. Good enough.

There was still resentment in Eilidh’s beatless heart. The pheromone had been contained. Well. Mostly. Focused on the leshy, with some splashes back on those forced soldiers underfoot. Yet it was focused and partial. But fire cannot be tamed, and the flames that day knew nothing of domestication. Flames he set the first spark to. And she hated. For the fires reminded her of her first home. For the fires consumed all those underfoot. Though, her hands had been forced to do similar deeds. Perhaps that was what she hated the most. The hopelessness in herself. That spark the final nail of their coffins of that realization. But Kaden had agreed to help, he had promised, and she was going to ensure his word like the Folk. It was only right for the hands that lit the flames to plant the seed. Balanced. And it was easy to spot him. The setting demanded it, for there was nothing else to distract. He had made it so.

Eilidh whistled to him, and once attention was secured, she walked over. Well, mostly rolled, considering the wheelbarrow in front of her. Even on the best of days, she wasn’t one for small talk. Considering her mood, she especially had no consideration for pleasantries. “Start with easy ones. Just gotta sprinkle.” Once the distance between them was satisfactorily short, she parked the wheelbarrow. Her hands disappeared in its contents, of various bags and tools, and only returned when a bag of seeds rested in her grasp. The bag exchanged hands; tossed to the man who would become its keeper. Her eyes were about to return to that clearing, to seek out those who had already been planted and needed assessment. But her gaze lingered on Kaden longer than needed, and then to the space behind him. “No dog?” There was clear disappointment. Some for her, but mostly for Tulip, who was still amongst the trees finishing her business.

The whistle made Kaden’s eyes squint as he winced at the loud sound. He forgot how stupid his hearing was, how much it picked up every small sound and amplified every one. So many times as a kid, he’d stuffed cotton balls in his ears to try and shut the sound out, to be a little closer to normal. Yeah. Right. That had long since passed now. She moved much faster than he did, and made good work of closing the distance between them.Kaden nodded like he understood a word of what she’d just said. He tried to repeat them back in his head, process anything. Easy ones. “Easy ones?” he asked, still not sure he understood what he was doing. Something took hold of him, his chest tightened. He couldn’t place the finger on the feeling or why, but it was just tight, closed in, maybe even scared. Kaden didn’t have time to examine it; he caught the bag flying towards him. Of course his fucking instincts and reaction times were stil there, all down to decades of muscle memory. All in the service of killing. Disgusting. He shook his head, trying to follow her eye line, looking at the seeds she’d already laid. Before he could answer her question, a bark came from across the way. “Abel,” he said, pointing back at the mostly black dog bounding his way through the ash. “He got bored with–” how slow Kaden was walking. “Just walking. He saw a squirrel. Always comes home, though.” The ranger tried to pull the corner of his mouth up into a smile but could barely find the energy, though he did have enough to ruffle Abel’s ears just before the dog padded off towards Macleod for a whole lot of sniffing.

Eilidh’s attention was easily stolen. Sucked away by those hurried inhales, as the dog covered her legs in such. She offered a hand, and Abel took the invitation without a moment’s hesitation. Nose pressed firm into her palm, lost to her cold skin as those raspy sounds grew louder. Eilidh’s own nose joined the commotion, letting out a snort. “Hello, hello, braidean beag.” But all things came to an end, and the dog soon had his fill of her scent. Tulip’s proved more intriguing. Her paws had barely become reacquainted with the ash before Abel was on her. The two consumed the other’s scents until it overwhelmed them into play. A burst of joyous life on top of all the death. And when Eilidh’s attention returned to Kaden, his face could match that ash. Flesh looked more like stone, hard and hollow. Absent of the grumpiness she had only known. Absent of anything really. As blank as the land. Did the fire still burn for him, too? Good. It should. Perhaps she could’ve held onto that victorious spite. Yet that sight made it hard. She thought her face was too of stone, carved with a stern look. But it softened.

Just as quickly as it had, Eilidh’s gaze dropped down. Back to the wheelbarrow, searching. She retrieved an identical bag to the one in Kaden’s hands. Fingers wormed inside, revealing only when a pinch of seeds was pressed between. “Is simple. Like this.” She kicked the toe of her boot against the ground; only enough to where it relented against her efforts. Then, with a flick, the assortment was sent flying. Falling down, becoming one with the upturned soil. The expanse already held such delights, but not nearly in full. Difficulty in facing the gray made progress slow. She knew the forest would be fine; even if she stayed home. But she felt compelled, like Fate calling. “Or just throw. All an’t gonna take anyhow.”

It seemed simple enough. Of course, somehow everything felt harder than it should be as of late. Kaden took a deep breath and took in the scenery surrounding him. This place; it was gutted and dead, covered in ash. If the turmoil in his head was made physical, he’d hazard a guess it might look something like the landscape laid out in front of him. What was the point? What was the point in trying to help this place grow again? Why bother planting new seeds just for them to be trampled down? What was the point in building the forest up again just for it to be a home for more monsters? What was the point in building a new hunting ground for another kind of monster? Why put any effort into this godforsaken town in the first place? They should burn the forest to the ground, let the ashes consume, let the ocean swallow it whole, find a way to let nature wash away the blood staining the whole damn place. He wanted to ask her why they were even trying. But he couldn’t create the words. So he nodded and slowly, carefully, put his hand into the bag of seeds. His fingers flowed through them as he grabbed a handful. Funny, he hadn’t expected the sense of calm that came with the sensation of running his fingers through the seeds. Huh. Weird. He stood there for a moment, hand still in the bag, fingers wrapped around a bunch of seeds. He looked down at the ground ahead of him like he’d never seen soil in his life. “I just throw them?” he asked, still watching the ground as if it would light up and guide him along a path at any second now. “It doesn’t matter where? There’s no pattern to it?” It should have been simple. And yet somehow he was still concerned he could find a way to make things worse, that he could still find a way to add to his mistakes.

Eilidh watched him. Her body too gone motionless, but for different reasons. Waiting for the hands that burned to plant. Waiting for the balance to be fulfilled. But it never came. The stone of his face overtook his arms, and she took it as sudden refusal. She huffed a breath; a hiss in her nose. Her frustrations returned, like a flash of lightning. But the thunder, the growl, did not follow. No, his words silenced it. Simply hesitant curiosities. Had the man never touched a garden? Seen the ways of nature? Yes. It had to be so. Why his hands had so casually caused those hungry flames. Perhaps the seeds would plant the want for care in his heart. Mother Nature did have her charms. So, she nodded, humming in tempo with her head motions. “Just throw. The only pattern’s being constant. Ground’ll do the rest.” As example, she grabbed a fistful and threw the whole lot into the air. A firework made of life instead of fire. Raining back to the ground in wait of the rains to give them life. The dogs both perked at the motion, rushing over to cover the fresh seeds in sniffs. But sniffs were not enough in Tulip’s case, whose tongue joined. Licking some up before they could even dream of being vegetation. “This why I dinnae bring you.” While the dogs were distracted, continuing their play, she threw another handful. Ones whose position on the ground stayed assured.

Just throw. She made it look so easy, her body free, her movements fluid. Kaden was stiff, stuck in place, stalled and unsure. Fear gripped him, held him down, left him there. Fear. That wasn’t what he’d felt a lot of recently. He hadn’t felt much at all recently. Nothing but emptiness. Fear. The hell was he afraid of? He looked back at the seeds that had fallen like confetti across the soil. It really was that simple. What was he afraid of, then?

Kaden inhaled, gripped the seeds tight. Messing up. He was afraid of messing up. Again. Looking down at his hands, he felt it again. Fear. His own hands, so often blood soaked or holding weapons, tossing fire. Tools of destruction. How were they going to help anything grow? How could they bring anything more than destruction?

This was stupid. They were his hands. He controlled them. He just had to put his hand above the damn ground and let go. Simple. Kaden gulped, held out his fist, and then opened his palm. The seeds didn’t fall as beautifully or as gracefully as hers had. They were mostly a few big clumps spilled along the way. He stood, staring at them a moment. “That’ll work?” he asked. “That’s good enough?” He looked up in time to catch the other dog licking up some of the seeds and he felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards, just a little. “Guess I’m more helpful than someone here,” he added, though he wasn’t sure he believed it just yet.

The hesitation was not done with him, with hands still trapped in stone. But instead of irritation, Eilidh felt anticipation. It made her one of stone too, her only motion a twitch in her curious eyes. They followed Kaden’s movements, like a faun’s first steps. Stumbled and messy, but still motion. The seeds found themselves on the ground all the same. Competing on who would become green and who would become snack, for their crowded placement only allowed a few to burrow. But the forest was more than the flora underfoot, it was also the creatures within. Readied soil or hungry mouth would find use for them. They would get their place in the cycle. So, she nodded in confirmation, accepting the offering on behalf of the woods. “Aye. What an’t taken by the ground’ll be food for birds ‘n mice ‘n not dogs.” Voice turned stern as her focus found approaching movement. Movement that stopped at those words, Tulip now locked in hesitation. “Thoir ort, sultachag.” There was a bit of a growl to her words, but one that was betrayed by the smile on her face. And further betrayed when she tossed another batch of seeds towards Tulip. The dog accepted them happily, but only a few, her appetite finally sated.

Eilidh chuckled at Kaden’s observation, one that called to her own. It was on her tongue, but only managed to be a delighted hum. For when Tulip trotted away, her eyes were left alone with that emptiness. It was as hungry as the flames and wanted to swallow her up. She knew it, she knew. Her eyes glanced back to Kaden, but not to his face. Not to the hollowness that made her anger hesitant. No. To those hands. She let out a huff, and it took her smile down with it. Back to a blank slate as she continued with a gruff voice. “Well. Got the motions now. Go.” Once more, she threw out another cascade of seeds. The only difference was she was on the move, throwing seeds with every few steps. Steps that took her away from Kaden.

Kaden stood staring at the seeds for far too long. No matter how long he looked, nothing changed, but the fear that he had only made things worse clung to him like rain soaked clothes. He replayed her words of approval over a few times before he was able to let them sink in a little, just enough to will his feet to move forward. He grabbed another handful of seeds, preparing to chuck them when the flash of movement and her stern voice made him spill them haphazardly, twitching a little at the sudden change of tone. The hunter looked back and saw her walking away from him. So he had done something wrong. Of course he had. Again. It felt like too much. He was ready to just give up, sit on the fucking ground covered in ash when a cold, wet nose shoved itself into his hand. Abel leaned into his leg and was rewarded with a few scratches behind the ear.

This wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t be hard. Kaden took a deep breath and tried again. The seeds he tossed weren’t as evenly spread as hers, the line he walked more haphazard, but he was helping. He was, right? Maybe he shouldn’t ask; his previous attempts to help people is what caused the destruction in the first place. He tried to push all the thoughts and questions and bullshit memories out of his head and just let himself feel the seeds spreading between his fingers, concentrated on the flick of his wrist as he threw them. No thoughts, only action. Eventually he found himself beside Macleod again, only trailing along behind her and moving much slower. “What are these gonna be?” he finally got the courage to ask.

The place was haunted by a fire that never tired, stoking the flames that burned in Eilidh. Anger she knew well, coating her chest in familiar smog. Its purpose to choke out a pain. One she had no way of mending, because to confront the flames was to accept things she mustn’t. She may have been born on that island, but she had not lived there. Yet she felt a connection to the place. So great that when it burned, it had driven her to madness and then to the ground. That destroying connection still refused to be done with her. She was so good at cutting bounds, yet the string tying her to the place was made of steel wire. And she had to cut, for it was not hers. Stolen from that previous life. A life she was reminded of, when her eyes met flame and her home burned again. A home she could not claim, should not claim, so she was just left with the burning.

Eilidh walked further into the clearing, until ash was all her peripherals could see in her downturned gaze. She pulled her head back, as she always had to do. Staring off to those distant trees, still dancing in life. The seeds in her hand met the ground with no watchful eye to guide them. But that was the will of nature, too. And her peripherals kept wanting to see a burnt fence, a charred wall, a smoking door. So, her eyes remained with the trees, and let the seeds be blind. It made her blind too. So lost to the past, she had forgotten the present. When Kaden spoke, she sucked in a sharp inhale. Like a gasp wanted to be a hiss. She grumbled, for it was all her mouth knew to do in her moment of recollection. What were the seeds again? Her voice was monotonous, as if reading from a list. “...Grasses. Clover… Bits of flowers.” Perhaps more, but that as all her thoughts would offer. She blinked up at him, before her eyes settled into a squint. “Hell’s it matter to you?”

Her response hit Kaden like a slap on the wrist. “I–” He felt like he had no right to be here, that his presence alone was just furthering the destruction, setting back the growth and progress here. He should just leave and be done, stop trying to help. His attempts never seemed to work. “I was just wondering,” he finally said, sheepishly, his eyes wandering back down to the ground. He tried to imagine the grass and clovers, the ash covered floor washed in green instead of gray. It was hard to imagine right now in the bleakness of it all. Flowers seemed damn impossible. He had more questions swirling in his mind. How long would it take for any of it to grow? What if none of it grew? What if this place was scarred forever? He was too afraid to voice a single one, merely continued to shuffle forward, dropping clumps of seeds as he went. “This feels too easy,” he added after a while. “You sure I’m not fucking this up?”

Eilidh thought returning to Kaden would allow her reprieve from the ash. But it remained in his face — that emptiness. One that held weight, unsurprisingly. She had come to realize one of the heaviest things was nothingness. As quickly as she looked at him, her gaze was once more gone. Before it could affect her face, again. But it carried in the wind; in his voice. She grumbled, then let out a cruel snort. “Sure.” What was this… trick? Tries to placate her? Her eyes stayed with the ash. It wouldn’t lie to her. She knew what it wanted. Of her; of all of them. Only taking breaks to look to the trees and to Kaden’s hands to make sure he ensured their future. So that cruel truth could be lifted from the ground in that burst of life. His continued actions kept her biting thoughts from reaching her tongue. No need to scare him off before the deal was done. And only that stopped her. Certainly not because of the strange feeling in her core.

Eilidh’s eyes kept that rhythm. Ash, hands, trees. Ash, hands, trees. Ash, hands… dog? Tulip pranced passed. To join the two of them, but not with her. No, Tulip’s curiosity instead led her to Kaden. Had her sending a few tentative sniffs against his shoes, searching and searching, before finding something she really liked. Her tail wagged with success as she took a frenzy of big inhales. Then, after a small lick, she simply pranced off. Leaving the two alone. As they had been before, but something felt different. That wagging tail had been a duster, brushing off the ash from her brain. Eilidh looked at his face again. Accepted that emptiness and what it implied. Relented to it, as her own face softened, and then, too, her voice. “You’re not fucking up.”

Kaden wasn’t sure where the tension had grown from, but if he had to guess, he’d say it likely stemmed from him. That was fair enough, he wasn’t a whole lot of fun to be around right now, he knew that much. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t exactly hold himself highly at the moment so he didn’t much expect anyone else to, either.

He was about to drop another handful of seeds when he heard and felt a small huff on his leg. His face scrunched and he looked down to see a dog. Only it wasn’t Abel, but Tulip, tail wagging and looking up at him. He expected his own dog to be happy to see him, but there was always something a little special when a dog that he didn’t feed and walk on a regular basis decided they liked him. He put his free hand down for her to sniff and she shoved her nose in it for a pet before giving him a quick lick and trotting off. Dogs knew bad people, he’d always believed that they could tell. By all accounts, Tulip should have taken one sniff and ran away from Kaden. Only she didn’t. The corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little at a time.

His head snapped back up to look at Macleod at the sound of her voice; he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her still, but it was hard to completely deny the back to back assurances from her and her dog. Abel ran over and leaned into his legs, begging for scritches and Kaden complied before the dog ran off again after his new friend. The ranger took a deep breath, tried to steady himself, and reached in the bag for some more seeds to spread. The ash felt like it spread on forever, like it would be impossible to mend and spread life across the whole area ever again. Still, as impossible as that felt, it seemed easier than trying to live with the consequences of what his life had been, who he was. The only thing he could do for now was just take one more step, drop seeds, and then another, and another, over and over until he reached the line of trees and had to turn around. It was weird to him how much he didn’t entirely hate it, the whole thing. “Thanks,” he said, breaking the silence that stretched on for a bit. “Uh, I mean… This. It isn’t–” Kaden wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say, but he knew he wasn’t managing. “I mean thanks. For dragging me out here. I, uh… I mean I’d come back. Again. If there’s more that, uh, needs to happen. Not that we’re done now. But in case there’s more. Later.”

The softness was quickly replaced with surprise. Minor, but enough to tense Eilidh’s features outward instead of their previous in. As if the pull of her muscles could draw out that relentment. One that felt like a betrayal. Part of her still wanted to be angry; clung to it like the ash clung to the ground. Made her want to scream and shriek and shout. Perhaps because with Kaden it would be heard, instead of all that bitterness seeping into dead ground. Yet, that bitterness would rather cling to her throat than be released in even a whisper. Leaving the air lost to words. Until they found themselves, instead, in his throat. That silence was broken with such a strange offering. Not strange from the nature of it, but the source. Well, maybe not as strange as she would have thought, the longer she considered him. Once more, she would hold him to this promise, but something in his eyes said she wouldn’t need to. She wasn’t sure if its wordless message spoke of a change in his heart, or of the fault of her own suspicions.

In the end, the specifics didn’t matter to Eilidh. “Aye?” With that simple word, her lips gained a curl. One that was quickly hidden under the tap, tap, tap of her finger in thought. Following that tempo in her head, of her ticking down a list. “Still plenty of seeding. ‘N raking.” Jerk of her wrist, the wheelbarrow was called back to attention. Almost an afterthought in that distance away, but she could still make out those familiar spiked edges. To demonstrate, her nails became those spikes. Clawing down her own palm with frenzied repetition. “Stirs ‘em in the ground real good. So the Earth can hug ‘em tight ‘n close.” For a moment, there was a touch of amusement on her breath. “Keeps dogs from licking ‘em up.” She shot a look to Tulip, whose only response was a wag of her tail. “Then lots of watching. Watching, watching, watching.” To ensure growth — to ensure one did not grow again. That great shadow choking out the land. She shook her head. Her throat rumbled, as her eyes scanned the area. “May need to add some mulch to the real fucked spots. Do more of it all in Autumn. Is better taken in that season.” She began to nod her head. As if she could already see the return of the green. “And then! Wait.” She let out a gentle chuckle. “Sound doable?”

Aye. A yes. Kaden wasn’t sure he’d expected a yes. Then again, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with a no. He nodded and was about to start walking again since she said there was still plenty to do, but paused as she continued. His brow furrowed as he watched her illustrate the raking with her fingers, like they were claws or talons digging into the dirt. The memory of claws lunging out to slash him flashed in his mind. He shook it away and looked back down at the ground and ash below, pushing some of it around with his foot, almost like he was testing out her demonstration. “Makes sense,” he mumbled back. Watching. He breathed in deep. Lots of watching and waiting. It felt like inaction. Inaction was still a choice. Maybe that was the choice he had to make for the moment. Perhaps that was the path he should take for a bit. He looked back up at her, following her gaze out at the clearing, trying to see what she was seeing. He was pretty sure he didn’t quite see it; he was having trouble seeing past all the death and destruction. But he wanted to see whatever it was she was imagining. And it sounded like maybe he could help make it happen. He could at least tentatively believe that. For now. “Sounds doable,” he answered, a small smile spreading across his face before he carried on throwing the seeds on the ground, hoping his help was enough.

[teaganmyrick]

@braindeacl

[pm] Glad you like it Poet. Not as lovely as your Lake. But a wee loveliness til your strengths return. The cleansed waters helping? 

[User has a crisis. But, like, a good one.] [...] Love you too sweet Poet. 

▽

[pm] They were made by you. I think they’re just as lovely.

My strength has nearly reached its peak, but I will refrain from returning to the lake a little longer. Want to make sure the infection is fully gone. The spellcaster said it’s protected now, but I’m still afraid.

[user tears up, but she’s happy]

Maybe you can join me for a dip some time soon, mu. Until then, I think I’ll stick around your home a little longer. It’s been hard to be alone.

[wickedmilo]

@braindeacl

[User feels no satisfaction in being right.]

[pm] Fucking wardens. Will ken their blood again [...] I'm sorry Milo.

[User responds much later.]

[pm] Wee Nyx's getting a bit snug. Spending more time inside or near. Just more. Still don’t see much on most You ken what [...] she likes?

[pm] Sorry wont bring her back

[pm] It feels like shit

[pm] But at least she has you

[pm] At least she’s settling in a bit

[pm] Sorry for the drunk text, I didn’t realise I text you

[pm] She likes movies

[pm] And talking

[pm] I know that’s vague but she’s really good company

[pm] She cares about people, you know?

[pm] She likes getting to know everyone

[stolensiren]

[pm] How's the arm?

[pm] [...] It's okay. Thank you for- I'm sorry for- Why did you help me?

Metzli told me what you did for them. That was [...] really cool.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Death Rings Twice || Morgan and Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: While searching for answers, Morgan and Eilidh realize the situation is worse than they realized.

CONTAINS: conversations with dead people

They came and went in waves. The first time, only the first time, Eilidh believed them to be just a part of being a ghost. James had done so many times—go in and out of view like the watts on a bulb. But those changes had been consensual, come upon by his own will, and he never truly left. Not like she had, and did, and still do. Moments of nothingness. Blink and she was gone, truly and ultimately gone. Blink and she was back, not even left with a memory. Just a faint recollection, a faint feeling of a blank. Like trying to recall a blackout. You knew it was there, you felt it too—pages torn from a book. But you also didn’t, couldn’t, for nothingness was all that remained. Nothingness that seemed to be her destination. Those blinks got longer, longer, longer. With no sign of slowing.

Eilidh knew Morgan was facing her own bouts of strangeness. Maybe they were connected. Morgan believed them to be—magic set loose like a wildfire, with them in its path. Consumed in its flames, would it burn them all the way to the ground? Or would they come out the other side, for the better? This curiosity, and a gnawing worry, compelled her forward, right into Morgan’s residence. She ventured through those great and winding halls, as if she already haunted the place. She ought to haunt at least one. Before it became too late. Passing by an open door, that familiar face was finally seen. Eilidh stopped, stared. Felt that nothingness threatening to claim her again. Visage flickered—like a light on its dying breath. But the feeling passed, leaving her there, shining on. The motion, or her very presence, must’ve caused a stir. The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Boo.”

Morgan just needed to find the right book. Zombies had been around for ages and so even if whatever was happening to her was obviously very rare, it must have happened to someone else before. And that someone must have wanted to write it down. Because magic directly affecting a zombie body at all was worth writing about; doing so in this cruel, backwards way defied everything she understood about magic and living matter. So, Morgan sat on the floor in the library, swimming through a large haul from the scriberary, searching. When Macleod appeared behind the volume she was holding, calling boo, Morgan yelped with surprise.

“Oh! Stars! That was--” she laughed uneasily. “That was something alright.” She sat back and looked at the other woman. She had believed everything Macleod had told her but seeing her friend, so wild and earthbound, so connected to her flesh, floating and transparent was uncanny in a way her mind struggled to process. “I wish I had good news on the funky magic boogaloo front, but there’s just lots of dead ends so far. But that can wait. Are you...okay? At least, relative to our situation?

Good-hearted chuckle lept out of Eilidh—breaking the illusion of the spooky ghost in the corner. She closed the distance between the two, eyes curiously scanning the cover and pages of the book nestled in Morgan’s lap. More were strewn across the room, circling Morgan in a protective barrier, or perhaps a tomb—either for future study or determined unsuited. Where one group ended and the other began, she wasn’t sure. Mouth parted to offer assistance, her hands and mind well-versed to such a skill, but the words quickly died just as her flesh had. Wouldn’t be much use when turning a page was a difficult endeavor. She had learned that fact rather quickly.

When attentions were placed on her, Eilidh perked. “Aye. Convinced this guy his cereal was sentient. And some lady she could control plants.” Snort of delight shot out her nose as their faces returned to memory. But as the chuckles faded, so too did this delight. That lingering worry remained. A hand brushed her lips, seemingly in thought. “Also…” In absence of external stimuli, she bit on a knuckle. But where a prick of sensation, a prick of life, would usually awaken her hand, only a mere acknowledgement greeted her. Fucking hell, how has James not gone mad by now? A low growl rumbled, and at least it felt nice in her chest. Familiar. “Been going in and out. Kinda like blinking. If you did that with a soul. James says it isn’t normal. And they’re getting longer.” Another knuckle met her teeth; that same hollow impact replayed. “Guess it’s soon time.” Her eyes scanned Morgan, transferring the focus back to the other woman. Wandering gaze found the darkness under her friend’s eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

For what seemed like a long time, Morgan could only stare at her friend. Or rather, through her friend. She could see every title on the shelf behind her if she concentrated enough, because Macleod, despite speaking and smiling and grinning and mischief-ing as much as she had ever done, was incorporeal and transparent. Like a ghost. A baby undead ghost. Which wasn’t supposed to exist. “..Blinking? What? Uh, that sounds bad. And weird. I’ve never heard of ghosts doing that before. They cross over, and they have some kind of teleportation thing, but they don’t play peek-a-boo with a whole plane of existence. That’s…” Another very strange, logic defying twist of magic.

Morgan cleared her head and tried to answer Macleod’s questions. “I woke up at the beginning of the week able to feel again. All my physical senses that went dull were back. It took some adjusting, but I think it was more or less how they were when I was alive. But then my body started decaying even when I was full, or more than full, and healing was fading and now it’s basically gone! So I’m basically rotting away for no discernable reason, and I get to be super physically aware of all of it. Also, I smell, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any senses right now. When did your stuff start? I mean, none of this should be happening at all, because the undead are immune to spellcasting magic that engages with our body’s energy, as far as I can tell, and we’re immune to most drugs and toxins, and I haven’t found anyone else in town being effected like this, so it’s not the big cosmic town bullshit--but if we can get a timeline, maybe that will tell us...something.” She sighed and closed the book in her lap, staring off into anywhere but Macleod’s face. The whole world was slipping through their fingers, just when she’d thought it really did want them after all.

Curt laugh escaped Eilidh. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” Just her luck to be subjected to the worst game of peek-a-boo in existence. Maybe her soul truly did want to pass over, but this supposed magic was keeping her here? Maybe the universe was trying to remedy the fact she shouldn’t have remained—at least not in this form—but the magic tried to go against the very will of the cosmos? Thoughts followed that tangent until it caused a dizziness. Bah, there’s too many maybes and what-ifs. She snapped a finger, sharp noise bringing her back to the present. Mind focused on Morgan’s words, her own story. As such a tale unfolded, her face fell, allowing that worry bubbling inside to find itself in her eyes, her parted mouth. Just as quickly, her eyes tightened, mouth closed, jaws tightened. Resolve overcame the worry, gave her goal new fire. “Aye. That is real bad.” Especially when it started so promising—the worst kind. “Best we hop to it prompto, then. Know anything I can look over? Double-check? Triple-check?” The ways of magic, the ways others shifted the energies of the world to their will, was not a strong subject of hers. But perhaps there were other pieces of the puzzle her ever inquisitive eyes could find. She needed that hunt, after all. Needed something to do—when all things physical brought boredom at best, her mind frequently rushed into restlessness.

Eilidh recalled the start of this plight. “I died beginning of this week.” The same as Morgan’s own unfortunes; a fact that did not escape her. “Or alchemied this way. Or some other magic.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which was true. Death was more reasonable to her. Familiarity always felt more reasonable, and she was very familiar with death. But Morgan seemed convinced its cause was magically induced and, well, she was the expert in that regard. Not Eilidh. “Blinked out the first time a few days later. Didn’t think too much of it. ‘Til a few more days later when it kept happening.” How much longer would this affliction let her speak with Morgan? Would it rip her away mid-sentence, as it had with Milo? Sharp snap of fingers returned. Temptation to bite the nagging thoughts away surfaced—to subject another knuckle to her teeth. But the snap sufficed. For now.

Morgan sat back, thinking. The town had already been shifted in the cosmos by the time she and Macleod were affected. And no one else she spoke to, dead or undead, was feeling anything strange in their body. So why them? And how? It didn’t seem right that the universe should literally change its rules just to be cruel to them. And if an alchemy break-through was responsible for Macleod, it didn’t explain her progressive deterioration. She would have to be confined to a circle in order for that to be the case, and the energy required to continually re-write her body would be outrageous.

She looked over at Macleod, aching to give her an answer. “I only have a few general compendiums on the stuff, but maybe there’s some kind of sickness, or some kind of critter that can affect people like us. Like, bookwyrms and brain biters mess with people’s brains, and there’s plenty of necrophages out there maybe…” Some magic, universe defying critter happened to chomp on both of them without their noticing on the exact same night? Morgan could hardly stand to hope for the idea, it sounded ridiculous enough in her head. But she had to try. If she stopped trying, this thing would take her. “Maybe there’s one that can explain this. Weird abilities that make people incorporeal or mess with their magic composition. Um, it’s those thick ones back there--” She pointed. “Or you could check out the area, see if anything unusual is sniffing around. Every critter’s gotta eat and sleep somewhere.” She smiled feebly. “We’ll figure this out before it’s too late. We’ve got too much to live for, right?”

“Critters!” The word shot out like a bullet. That was more Eilidh’s forte. A hand returned thoughtfully to her lips, though a bite did not come. Her mind was moving far too fast to focus on anything physical. Feet began to pace without her knowledge, beating against the air as if they contributed to her movements anymore. “Those bees cause hallucinations…” What were they called again? Those dick-hive bees. She had still yet to encounter them personally—such a treat will have to wait when she finally visits… that woman. Knowledge was acquired specifically for said venture, so she really should remember… “Eintykara.” But as research came tumbling back into her mind, so did an issue. “No. Cold.” Such weathers would cause them to grow sluggish—springing into action now would make no sense. “Hm. Caballi?” Her encounter with one had been very brief, but James’ was much more intimate. And she had certainly heard stories that mimicked their own. Of ghosts being attacked by them. Or more accurately, being fed upon by them. Could be the cause of their deterioration, those astral feedings. Perhaps they can affect zombies too? “But never saw…” They weren’t exactly invisible, to people like them. But much of them was left unknown, on this world at least. Could be a special sort?

More ideas flowed into Eilidh’s mind. And just easily flowed back out—conflictions and contradictions found in every sort. Though the universe was vast and wide and full of exceptions. Hardly anything could be said with certainty. And hardly everything was stored in her mind—that vastness refusing to be contained in just one thing. Or even in one world; creatures not found in any book had laid just beyond those cracks in the air. One, or two, or more could’ve slipped through. “You could be onto something.” Her feet stilled, and it was only then she realized she had been on the move at all. But they already missed that constant motion. Focus turned to the mentioned books, causing a chuckle to stir. “Would. But these guys do whatever the hell they want.” She wiggled her fingers and they blended and meddled together, like waves crashing into each other. “I’ll look ‘round. You focus on the books. We’ll see this through.” There was an attempt to turn and leave, but something held her there just a moment longer. Those hints of decay sprinkled on Morgan’s form—some grown worse over the course of their conversation. “Think you’ll manage?” The question spanning far beyond just Morgan’s research capability.

With the way Macleod lit up at the suggestion, Morgan could actually start to believe they were onto something. The world was full of strange things and there was so much they didn’t know. Of course if it wasn’t someone it had to be something. Maybe even a creature from another dimension. Some of the critters in those portals had probably gotten stuck on this side when Adam closed them, too, and maybe that was why they couldn’t understand the rules this infection worked on.

Morgan met Macleod’s eyes bravely. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. It might take weeks to comb through all of White Crest and identify the exact creatures they were looking for, especially if they turned out to be beyond sapient record on this world. But they would figure it out, wouldn’t they?

Somewhere beyond them, bewildered geese flapped their way to the sky and called to each other for safety, snow crunched under tired feet, a wind blew through the hollow tunnels of the world. Morgan took it all in, staring through the frosted windows. This was a world that buried its secrets better than its dead, but it was also one where life persisted in the most bitter cold. If anyone was proof of that, surely it was her and Macleod. And Morgan had a future to get to; Macleod probably did too, and if she didn’t, she deserved to stick around long enough to come up with one. So she had to be okay. There wasn’t room in this scenario for her not to be.

Morgan summoned her best smile and hoped with all she had that Macleod believed it and let some of the warmth rub off on her. “I’ve got this. And so do you. Death cut us a break once, right? Twice should be just as easy.”

That smile filled the air, found its way on Eilidh’s face, lifting her spirits in turn. Hell yeah. They had this. That implication hung in the air, threatened to bring it all back down. The one where she died. This soul she carried certainly had—will again. And technically death had touched her a few days prior. But the implication ran deeper than that, tied her to an assumption she kept getting chained to. But she did not let that weight touch her; only a twitch of a brow, a tighten of lips, betrayed these thoughts. Resolve kept her steady—kept them both just the same. Fate may try to give them a losing hand, but she’ll keep playing until a full house. And if not, well, seems she’s had her time then. Her soul will enjoy more, if these pesky blinks didn’t consume her in totality. For fate was hungry this week—eating away at her very soul, at Morgan’s very flesh. Was it feeding on others? How far did this hunger spread? She had no mind, no time to worry about passerbyers on the street. Those teeth readied to pierce again, steal more of them away. But she’ll try her hand at dentistry and rip them out before all was taken. “Good to hear! Let’s give this a–”

She vanished.

[corpse--diem]

Past Lives | Eilidh & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @braindeacl​ LOCATION: Nichols’ Funeral Home SUMMARY: The Glitch investigates an outdated lead regarding Erin’s organ trafficking operation.  CONTENT WARNINGS: none

Erin didn’t remember the sun setting. It felt like only moments had passed, not hours, since she had settled into her office with a stack of paperwork and a full cup of coffee. The last sip had been ice cold, prompting a look of disgust to cross her face and her eyes to glance at the clock. It was late. Too late to still be hunched over her laptop in a full suit, the jacket abandoned on the small loveseat next to the door. When she moved, she felt her age and the stiffness that came from hours of desk work--a necessary evil, of course. Still evil. The laptop closed with a click and she rubbed her eyes when she decided enough was enough for the night, moving to close the blinds. Her body sagged with exhaustion and annoyance.

“Damn it, Jimmy,” she mumbled under her breath. A white van sat in the parking lot, blocking in both the hearse she was going to need to use in the morning and her own vehicle. Jimmy, her bright-eyed and well meaning delivery driver had forgotten to move it before clocking out. It could wait until the morning, but her legs ached to be stretched, so she pulled her jacket on and headed out the door, keys in hand.  Don’t forget to move the van, she had specifically instructed him on his way out. No problem, Miss Nick! had been his cheery response. I thought we talked about not calling me that, Jimmy. A good kid over all, if not sometimes a bit flighty, but he did his best.

When the vehicles were all back in their rightful homes, she closed the garage door behind her, starting the lock up ritual. The security pad beeped as she entered the password, silent but for the electronic confirmations. Something felt off, like she could feel eyes on her, and she glanced around briefly. Just a quiet, dirty garage. Exhaustion and shadows were messing with her. She laughed quietly at herself and headed towards the door that linked the house to the garage. That feeling was still there. Her eyes darted around the room and she reached for whatever was nearby--a shovel, fingers barely grasping the handle. Like she knew she was being silly. But just in case. “Hello?” She called out, her voice echoing off the concrete walls.

It hadn’t been hard to discover what Erin had done. It was carried in whispers around the town. Such small, harmless things. But when enough people whispered the same rumor, they congealed into a shout. Beckoning Eilidh forward. While it failed to gain her full interest initially, when she relayed the information to James, it clearly disturbed him. Wide eyes, crinkled mouth. Just like the people around town when she found them, horrors uttered in soft tones. After an explanation, she began to understand his viewpoint. But not enough to completely feel the same way. Still, it was clear that the woman’s actions were terrible. Damnable.

Her hands began to itch.

Interest finally piqued, she started to follow the woman from a distance. Watching. Observing. Planning. When her eyes didn’t fall on Erin’s physical form, they surveyed what information could be found on the internet. She found the location of her work. Continued to watch, to plan. Then, one day became the turning point. It started off as any other. She went to work. Enjoyed some bird watching. But as the sun began to retreat to the horizon, she headed to the funeral home. Once the building lay in her sights, she slipped into an alleyway. Donning her gear, weapons at hand, face hidden, she was ready.

Watching. Observing. She waited until the young man, who on her second day of watch was revealed to be named Jimmy, left the establishment. Based on her knowledge, her target should be alone. Into the open garage she went. Whenever, wherever, Erin exited from, the garage was a suitable place of action. Somewhat concealed from the outside world. Or, if she was lucky, fully concealed. She rolled underneath a car. Waiting. As the time ticked away, part of her just wanted to bolt into the building. But then she detected movement. Out came her mark. Thankfully, it wasn’t the car Eilidh had decided to hide under that was moved. And her luck continued, for the woman eliminated one of her easy exits. Potential salvation closed with a loud thud, and in the commotion, Eilidh withdrew from her hideaway. The motion must’ve tipped Erin off, for she suddenly grew wary. Time for the reveal.

“NicHols.” Voice came from behind. There was something off about the way it sounded. Just as there was something off about the way she looked. Glamour activated, she became a pulsating, humanoid mass. One body part would look normal, then crooked the next. A hand would suddenly shift into the image of a frog before reverting to normal. And her whole body would crackle and split, like static.

“I tHinK yoou knOw wHY I’m HerE.” Clutching a metal bar, she placed a tip in between Erin’s shoulder blades. Then shoved it forward. Hard.

The sight that came from the shadows was more horrifying than anything Erin could have dreamt up, and the voice that accompanied it did nothing but amplify the feeling that Erin had suddenly found herself in a terrible nightmare. That’s what had happened right? She’d fallen asleep at her desk again. That’s all this was.

“Ow, Fuck—“ she yelped as the woman-frog-thing pressed the metal into her skin, hard enough to jolt her, nearly losing her step. Nope. Not asleep. That absolutely would have woken her up. As she backed up, turning to face this new horror fully, she knew she was terrified. Knew that somehow that this intruder had their hands on some sort of magic, or was a supernatural she’d never even heard of, and that alone should have bettered her judgment right then and there. But there was a larger part of her, the one that simmered low and hot in her belly, that was angry. It felt too familiar, too comfortable in its place within her. Gripping the shovel, holding it in front of her to create more distance, she decided that was something she’d have to reckon with when there wasn’t a grotesque visitor with a crowbar coming towards her.

“Do I?” She asked, her voice more even than her insides would suggest. She gripped the shovel for all she was worth, eyeing the door that led back into the house, quietly calculating how long it would take to yank the door open and shut it on their face. It wouldn’t keep them out, likely, but the time and distance would be worth it. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t have my planner with me so uh--if you don’t mind, I could use a reminder. Did we have an appointment?” Maybe she could talk them down? Maybe this didn’t need to end with some scrappy, painful fight here in her garage.

When Erin continued to stand, footing not lost despite the thrust, Eilidh was surprised. Surprised further when a calm voice came from her, seemingly unbothered by the sudden attack. Not the expected reaction. A hint of the true fear lingered in the other’s eyes, but a fight could be found in equal portions. This wasn’t a simple bluff. Huh. Remembering the line of work Erin preoccupied herself with—both publicly and in the shadows—Eilidh shouldn’t be too amazed. Such activities gave someone a thick skin, a hardened shell. What would it take to make it crack? Still, a small part of her couldn’t help but admire Erin’s tenacity. Not enough to stop her next move, of course. Nature must take its course. The cravings must be satiated. She buried the feeling down, same as the others. Only the thrill of the hunt remained. Grip tightened on her weapon, mirroring her adversary. But she kept hers close, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Despite it all, amused at the juxtaposition between Erin’s words and the situation at hand, a chuckle managed to slip out. The sound wasn’t right, coming out more like a car engine that refused to start. “‘FrAid nOT. YoU taKE wAlK-Ins?” Her body tensed—lurched forward. A small movement that immediately corrected itself, implying an attack that never came. A ruse to keep the other uneased. “WheN’S yoUr plANneeR saY orGan shIPmEnt? I’d loVe to mEEt YouR frIEnnnds.” Body tensed again, but this time action followed. She swung forward—rod meeting shovel—the impact vibrating across the metal. Unforgiving, it shook her to her core. Threatening to contort her wrists. But she held on. Next swing was aimed lower, at the woman’s legs.

In any other situation, Erin would have enjoyed a good back and forth. Walk-ins. She’d heard that one before. In any other situation she would have cracked a smile and returned the dark humor. But this thing was throwing out jokes and threats, with an emphasis on the threats that kept her focused. The unexpected noise spilling from it’s throat startled Erin backwards until her heels bumped against the cement wall behind her. The wall. Fuck. She was trapped. “Organ shipment?” Their words were distorted but not unclear, successfully rattling away any semblance of confidence she still clung to. Organ shipment. The gravity of the intruder’s words suddenly draped over her like a heavy, dark shroud. Who the hell was she dealing with here?

“I’m not--I don’t--” she stammered, cut off by the crowbar hurtling towards her. Banter time was over, then. The shovel thrummed under her fingertips when the blow connected, her entire body straining against the strength behind it. They were strong, far stronger than Erin, and the shovel clambered to the floor just as their next swing took flight. She only moved back fast enough to spare one leg from the hit. White hot pain shot up her leg, followed by a scream that mingled with a furious series of explicatives as it gave way beneath her.

“Will you just--stop!” She managed through grit teeth, a flash of pain-fueled rage sharpening in their direction. At some point during the fall, she’d grabbed a screwdriver, apparently, and found herself pointing it as menacingly as possible. “I-I can explain.” Erin’s voice came out shaky and strained, but surprisingly even-keeled for her predicament. Her knee howled as she backed up, tossing anything she could at the masked stranger. A stray bucket, folding chairs, all to create distance and buy time. “I don’t know where you got your information but you’re too late. I’m not who you’re looking for.” She huffed out a long breath, stilling her movements, hoping whoever was behind those dark goggles saw more than a cornered woman’s desperate pleas. “If you need something, I can point you in the right direction, if that’s what you want. But you don’t want me.”

The rod made contact and the woman was downed. Eilidh raised it again, ready to send another strike down, seeing as Erin was momentarily stunned. But then she screamed out something unexpected. Well, not entirely unexpected. This wasn’t the first time someone has pleaded innocence. I don’t know what you’re talking about! You got the wrong guy! It wasn’t me; I swear! Usually after the fourth hit they started to reveal their true colors. But there were those instances that their pleas ended up being true. Sometimes the realization coming too late. With this on her mind, it caused Eilidh to pause. She wasn’t convinced. Not in the slightest. But she’ll allow herself to be convinced. “YoU’ree NOt the FiirSt asssHOle to teLL Me tHAt.”

The momentary stalemate was one-sided, for Erin was on the move. First welding a screwdriver, and Eilidh knew from personal use how dangerous they could be in close quarters. Then objects began to fly. The bucket struck her right in the head. There was an audible crack from her neck. Her head lay crooked. Back of it reached her shoulders, facing the buzzing lights above instead of ahead. Then after a jolt forward, her head snapped back into place. She dodged one of the chairs. Caught another. Erin took a step, Eilidh matched it with her own. From a safe but close distance. Always there, but never meeting.

Gripping the seized chair, she flung it, returning it to Erin. Off it went towards Erin’s working leg—meaning to trip. “Ya gOT aNY pRooooF? ‘CAuSe fROm my siDE, tHAt soooUNds LIke BUllshIt.” But she made no further aggressive moves. Just staring, in close pursuit, mimicking her target’s motions. But not breaking that established distance. Unless needed. Unless she tried to run away.

Morgan’s zombie dismemberment theatrics she’d watched in amazement in the past helped make their neck easier to digest. Still horrifying in its own right and it certainly didn’t do much to convince Erin that this was someone she could physically outmaneuver. She winced when the chair hit her other leg, gritting her teeth to stop another pained yelp from leaving her. She wasn’t convinced. Of course not. “I’m sure it does,” she grimaced, nursing the spot on her shin where a new bruise was forming. Proof. How the hell was she supposed to prove that? All she had was an outrageous story and a body count to prove the hell she’d gone through. “No. I don’t,” she answered firmly. “Tear apart my house. Root through the basement for coolers full of organs and untagged bodies,” she shrugged, her anger fueling this frustrated apathy coming on. Fighting was useless. Running was useless. Proving her innocence would be to. She was screwed no matter what.

She swallowed hard, staring into the dark, empty lenses of the goggles. “I don’t know how the hell you think you are, coming into my home, my business--but I lost everything fighting to get out of that life.” The house. Maybe she could still get out of this? Her eyes widened slightly and she pointed towards the door that led to the main building of the funeral home. “Do you know why this place still smells like new wood and fresh paint? Because Roy Chambers burned down my house when I told him I was out. There’s still scorch marks in some places in the attic if you need to see it yourself.” It was a gamble, but if this person knew about the organs, surely that name would spark some sort of recognition. He’d overseen the whole operation. And if not, she could only steel herself for whatever came next.

While she would love to rummage through Erin’s home, unlocking secrets that were bound to be kept there, Eilidh doubted she was stupid enough to keep such blatant evidence in her own home. “PaSS.” After a fit of passion—which caused Eilidh’s eyes to widen slightly, intrigued by the directed outburst—Erin seemed to be struck with inspiration. The first part was lost on Eilidh because, no, she literally couldn’t wonder why the place smelt like that. But that name: Roy Chambers… Roy Chambers? Roy Chambers! She’d heard it before. Whispered in air, just like Erin’s own misdeeds. But these whispers were like that of the Boogeyman. Eilidh didn’t know much; trying to look up Roy Chambers through normal means only produced vague reports, if anything at all. But the rumors, the hushed words in the dark, as if merely mentioning his name would bring the man back from the dead. It was enough to paint a nasty picture. If only she had gotten here sooner, had a chance to eat his soul—it must’ve been delicious. “AnD? YoUR pooiNT?” Despite it all: the supposed scorch marks, the supposed smell, the supposed connection to a monstrous man. It all could be a fabrication. The desperate concoction of a cornered woman. If only she could prove anything.

The clock was ticking. Fate almost sealed.

Still, the sight of Erin cowering, in spite of her resolve. Part of Eilidh felt right at home; finding yet another glove that fit, snug on her bloodied hands. Part of her felt nothing; heart bare and empty, wiped down with the disinfectant known as apathy. But that deeply buried part, the part that always squirmed as these moments came to pass, did as it always does. Relented under the weight of the others. Usually easy to ignore—itches must be scratched, urges must be fulfilled. But, still, she faltered. The situation was becoming… complicated. Even with her suspicions, the conviction in Erin’s voice. It held a power she rarely saw in these situations. An impressive liar? Or a misplaced target? And it was only with James’ persuasion that she found herself there, standing before the battered Erin. She lacked the typical enthusiasm. Her grip on the bar softened for a moment. Despite her efforts, she began to feel conflicted.

But the cravings demanded offering. There was something else she could try to satiate them. “ProovE it aNOther wAy.” She pointed the metal bar at her. “GiVe mee thREe nAmeS. NaMEs oF tHe daMNed.” Instead of matching Erin’s tempo, she took an extra step. Closer. “YoUR ooold friENdS.” Closer. “If ThEY’re acCEPtabLe, yOU’ll nEVer Seee me aGAin. BetTEr hoPe to sHIT thEY aaare.” She was almost in striking range. But the attack never came. She simply stared at Erin. In the passing silence, her head did one final glitch, transforming into a massive bouquet of thorns. Those thorns tilted, curiously. “DeAL?”

Pass. Erin couldn’t control the eyeroll that followed. Short-lived as it was. The masked intruder took another step closer. She had to wonder how intentional the timing of each magical glitch of their facade was. Could they time it? Was it random? The entire plan had been constructed with leaving as little evidence behind as possible. If Erin had any hope of having an actual life after Roy, that part had been as crucial as, well--not dying. A similar goal here. But names? Erin could do names. Something had struck a chord and Erin thanked every star in the galaxy it’d been enough to give her a chance. The irony of tossing his name out there as a former associate of his in order to keep her kneecaps wasn’t lost on her, either.

“Deal,” she nodded. Comparatively, this could have been worse. Her lips paused in thought, her mind running back to the list of players Erin herself had put together. Felt like a lifetime ago since she’d stared at those names, studied their faces. More than a few she was comfortable with were still out there. If they wanted to tie up some loose threads that had managed to slip through her fingers? Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad for her as that initial crowbar to the back had implied. Three less faces she had to worry less about meeting in a dark alley one day. If they could pull it off, anyway. Erin wouldn’t mourn the stranger threatening her in her garage. She put up one finger. “Otis Pfefferman. Erik Kewe. Tony Dallas.” A second, and then third finger followed suit before she dropped her hand back to her side. “All loyal to the big guy until the very end. And just so we’re perfectly clear. These slimeballs?” Erin shook her head, the disgust and contempt she held for these three oozing from every word. “Not my friends. Not in any lifetime.”

Done. Deal. They’d apparently come to an agreement but Erin still trusted this stranger as far as she could throw them. She gripped the screwdriver tightly by her side, but remained perfectly still otherwise. Talking about this, about Roy, about all of them had stirred something in her. Woke her up, fanned that flame all over again. Her knee ached and her hands still shook just slightly, but not once had she pleaded for her life in front of Roy. This stranger didn’t deserve that from her either. She was getting soft. Tilting her chin up, she nodded once. “Good enough? Because I’ve got a nice new dent in my shin to ice and awesome hobble now, and if you’re not going to kill me, I want to know who you are. You owe me that much.”

Otis Pfefferman. Erik Kewe. Tony Dallas. The names repeated in Eilidh’s mind. A mantra. Pact had been sealed—their fates almost just the same. All depended on the trustworthiness of Erin’s condemnation, her fate tied to them. One or three were destined to face the power of her cravings. Hope was placed with the latter, a bountiful harvest it would be. Soon, those three would receive a similar visit as the one today. Perhaps their very last one, if they were ripe enough. She could practically feel it now, canines against brain matter. Hunger churned from within. Distinguishing any previous discomfort.

Good enough? “It miGHt bee.” Only time would tell. She must face each man, taste their soul, and determine if they will suffice. If not, this minor act of civility would not be offered again. A sound emitted from her as her identity was put into question, the true form lost, instead coming out as an abrupt shriek. But an answer did not leave her lips. She banged the bar against the concrete below, loud clang ricocheted and reverberated off the walls, conglomerated into a symphony. Clang, clang, clang. The impact had barely missed Erin’s one good leg. And with that, Eilidh scurried off without another word. It was only when she was among the surrounding treeline, a fog lifting from her mind at the comforting sight, that she remembered...

She had forgotten to ask for any information on these men.

Fuck.

[nicsalazar]

[pm] Found a camper attacked yesterday. Punctured neck. Vampire. Keep an eye out. Lemme know if you see anymore. [del: So I can finally rip that fuck's legs]. And be careful.

@braindeacl

[pm] Fuck’s sake Ah, my knowledge on vampires is pretty bad. Wouldn’t know what to keep an eye out for. Just the red eyes? The lack of heartbeat? Is it even a tell cause, for some people it’s real quiet  Kinda like you, in a way 

But, hey. It’s good I see that you’re back Not sure if you should’ve. Was tired of hearing all kinds of silly stories about your absence at the station.

[deathisanartmetzli]

@braindeacl

Artist: @eyes-in-the-night

[teaganmyrick]

@braindeacl​

[pm] [User is surprised.] Oh! Hello, Poet. Doing well? Wait. This actually you [...] How you know Milo?

Ah. Uh. Nothing strong comes to mind. [User goes idle.] Well. Less you wanna promise to tell if other wardens give you problems.

🜄

[pm] Well? No, not really. But that doesn’t matter right now.

Milo is my friend. He fell into my lake and we got to talking after I pulled him out.

How would that promise benefit you, though? People usually ask for something that is in their best interest.

[stolensiren]

famous last words // teddy, emilio, teagan, patricia, macleod, metzli, & cass

TIMING: just before midnight PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli @eldritchaccident @yourlocalbrawler @teaganmyrick @monstersfear @braindeacl @stolensiren SUMMARY: metzli, macleod, cass, patricia, teagan, teddy, and emilio all prepare to leave town together, but are stalled by the realization that something isn't right. metzli finds a solution, and everyone wishes there were a different one. CONTENT: sibling death, parental death

“It–it didn’t work.” The earth continued to rumble and crack, the lightning of concrete and dirt growing with each thundering pulse of energy from White Crest. Metzli stood there, watching helplessly, unable to coordinate another plan as everyone stood behind them. Cass, Teddy, Emilio, Teagan, Patricia, and Eilidh agreed to ensure the plan worked, to stay just outside the town’s boundaries in case they needed to step in or keep running. 

And it was so funny, wasn’t it? Decades of being a strategist, with backup plan after backup plan, and now, when the world was ending—arguably the most important moment in Metzli’s life—they were coming up with nothing. “It was supposed to work! I don’t understand! Twelve sacrifices for each hour. All the books—Leah said—fuck! Fuck!” Abigail and Lil, and all those people had given their lives, believing they were doing the right thing. The very thought made Metzli sink to their knees, their heart aching and wishing for some other way. “All those volunteers…it was supposed to—”

Then, it hit them.

“The thirteenth hour.” Metzli practically whispered to themself, rising to their feet and stumbling as dry earth burst open. The sinkhole was going to reach the city limit if they didn’t act fast. If Metzli didn’t do something. “We forgot about the thirteenth hour. Teagan–you were in it.” She nodded with her brows furrowing together, as if she knew where they were going with their thought. She did. She looked down at Eilidh with a somber expression, not saying a word as Metzli continued. “You and that Sol guy, right? If it exists, it has to be the missing part. We need…” Their eyes fell at the realization they knew no one would want to say aloud. Avoiding everyone’s faces, Metzli continued, preparing for the inevitable rebuttals. Especially on Eilidh’s part. Maybe even more especially on Cass’s. “There has to be one more…sacrifice.” The final word hung heavy in the air, and Metzli didn’t lift their head. Doing so would make them think twice, and there just wasn’t enough time for that.

Eilidh was the first to surge forward, putting together what her partner was really saying. Her nails dug impossibly deep into their skin, drawing blood, and Metzli could’ve sworn they felt them in their heart. The two of them were supposed to have a new start, and they were effectively telling her they never would. Her screams filled their ears, her pleas making it nearly impossible to submit themself to what they needed to do. Whispering sweet nothings in her ears, she clung to them, and they finally rose their head to acknowledge everyone they loved, tears streaming down their fearful expression.

Rhett was dead. The ground was shaking, the world was ending, Rhett was dead, and it felt so much like Etla that Emilio could see Jaime’s body in the street just a few feet away staring at him with unseeing eyes. Nausea tugged at his gut, and it took everything he had just to keep his goddamn lunch down, just to keep himself standing on his own two feet. 

And the worst part, he thought, was that it was all for nothing. Rhett stayed behind to play the fucking hero, did the exact goddamn thing he’d forbidden Emilio from doing, and it was all for nothing. Emilio lost the only brother he had left for nothing. The world was still ending. They were still going to die. It might have felt like a relief if he weren’t so goddamn angry about it.

Metzli was speaking then, and it took a moment for Emilio to tune back in to the conversation, took a moment for him to pull himself back into the present and away from the bodies in the street that had rotted away to dust in another country years ago, but when his mind caught up, he understood what they were saying. 

Twelve people stayed behind. And there should have been one more.

Immediately, Emilio stepped forward. He locked eyes with Metzli, tilting his head in a silent question. He’d do it, if he had to. He’d be breaking a million promises — to Rhett, to Teddy, to people no longer around to care, but fuck, it’d be worth it. He chose to live. He chose that. Maybe it didn’t matter if he didn’t stick to it. Maybe choosing it once was enough.

The ground trembled beneath her feet, and Cass stumbled in a wild attempt to stay upright. It should have stopped by now, shouldn’t it? All those people who’d stayed behind, all those people who’d given everything to stop it… It should be over by now. The fact that it wasn’t was bound to be a bad sign, and maybe — maybe they all should have known better. Maybe they should have realized that things couldn’t be this simple. 

Maybe some things weren’t meant to work out.

Cass’s heart was in her throat, because she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to fall into a hole in the world where no one would ever find her, didn’t want her life to end when it felt like it had really only just begun. Superheroes died for their causes, sometimes, but in the comics, they always came back after. Death wasn’t so temporary in reality. 

But then, Metzli came to a realization that was almost worse, somehow. They spoke, and Cass felt her stomach clench because she knew exactly what they were saying. She stepped towards them a moment after the hunter holding Teddy’s hand did, eyes sliding nervously to the man as she shuffled a little farther away from him and locked her gaze onto Metzli’s. 

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Metzli, no. You — You said we were going to leave together. You promised that. Let someone else do it.” She didn’t mean to glance back to the hunter as she said it, but maybe she did anyway. “You get to live now. You get that. Please, Metzli.”

The crumbling canyon before them was a ripping, yawning, hollow thing. Bleakly mirroring the expressions on those who stood around the edge. Teddy heard, yes. Teddy processed the meaning moments after the words came from Metzli’s mouth. His grip on Emilio’s hand and stubborn feet maybe the only thing keeping the hunter from rushing in without even knowing what he was going to even do about it. Teddy was doing it again. Flushed cheeks on a paling face. Slowly becoming about as ghost white as the crackles of energy that seeped up and out of the ground before them. Stuck in his spot. Unable to move. But if it wasn’t fear that was keeping him rooted, what was it? Despair? Rage? 

The florist (Well, was it even fair to call him a florist anymore? Twice now his shops had been swallowed completely by something all consuming and unstoppable. At least this time they weren’t alone. Though that thought was far more bitter than it should have been.) echoed the younger girl’s words. “No.” Firm, hurt, but lined with a breathy desperation that threatened to tumble outward should he say anything else. He finally forced himself to look over. Too much distance and too many people he loved stood between him and his appa. Fuck. Teddy was just getting used to that. To family. Each face painted a different portrait of grief. Emilio’s loss of another brother, Cass and the home she’d finally built for herself, Eilidh and the life they were about to create. And Metzli. Something determined and sad behind those eyes. A hungry thing Teddy recognized immediately as resolution. 

“There’s gotta– anyone else. Please. There’s so many people out there who could– anyone else.” It was pretty clear. The people there were among the few Teddy Jones would do literally anything for. Except allow them to die. Except allow them to be the final sacrifice in a pyrrhic victory against the town that raised Ted. The town that was set to raze the rest of the planet if someone didn’t intervene. There had to be another way. Anything. Anything would be better than losing a single one of them. 

— 

Despite the ravenous trembling of the ground beneath her, Patricia’s feet remained planted, looking on at the city that had attempted to make a massacre of its own population. It took her a bit longer than it should’ve to realize what Metzli was implying, what grim resolution to the problem they’d come up with, but it still hurt all the same. They were a close friend, one of the closest besides Teagan, and somebody she thought would become a parent-in-law someday in the future, but like all things, that innocent thought was cut short. Life was unfair, and cruel, but those words were understatements for the irony of Metzli sacrificing themself after already having given so much to the town and its people. 

A stunned silence washed over Patricia, the torrent of thoughts in her mind serving to silence the group’s pleading and denial. When she thought of putting herself in their shoes, she knew she couldn’t do it. There was no way she would leave Teagan and Daisy to give her life for the rest of the world. She knew just how selfish that was, but she didn’t allow self-pity to derail her thoughts. If anyone could do this, it was Metzli, that’s just the kind of person they were. They’d give their all until the last drop of blood was spilled.

Rather than a sob or a cry escaping Patricia’s lips as a tear streamed down her cheek, a grim chuckle instead left in its place. The feeling of disbelief fused with the sudden realization that it had to be Metzli, into a feeling of amusement at the irony of the situation. What else was there to do when all others wept for their closest friend? “Always gotta be the damn hero, don’t you Metz? If you’re going to go out, might as well go out swinging.” The world in front of them was emptying out, crumbling into nothing before their very eyes, but with a single realization Metzli proved that they were willing to charge forth into the void with a final defiant gesture. “Make it count, because there won’t be a single person who survives this that won’t miss you every damn day.”

There wasn’t much else to say. The group of people surrounding Teagan had every reason to refute what Metzli was saying, but even with how horrible the answer was, it was the answer. However, she did find herself wanting to fight back with the rest. If not to preserve a kind heart’s beat, then for her mother figure, Macleod. The love of her life was giving everything away, tossing out any possibility of the happy ever after she felt her mother deserved. But then, the love of her life spoke up, speaking in a way that would most certainly get her chastised. 

“C-cariad.” Teagan pulled Patricia closer to retreat to the back of the group, her voice still cracking from her time in The Ring’s basement. Her neck still bore the evidence of the horrible conditions she was under, and she was still weak from her time away from Dark Score, but there was an undeniable strength in the way she managed to get Patricia where she wanted. “They might h-hit you. Wanted to protect you.” She whispered hoarsely, confident that Patricia would still hear. “May be best to k-keep quiet for now. People in mourning. Denial.” Teagan looked at Cass then, the biggest and most frequent offender of denial. She did it best, and Teagan has experienced first-hand more than once. 

Everyone spoke together, refusing to accept the solution in front of them, just as expected. Metzli’s face contorted into a mixture of grief, frustration, and fear, the knowledge that they were wasting time heavy on their entire body. “Guys—please, can we just—” Then, Patricia, of all people, was tearfully chuckling, and they couldn’t help but scoff in kind. She not only understood what they were saying, but accepted it. There was no way they’d let Emilio give his life, and there was no changing Metzli’s mind, and she knew it. 

“No, guys. No.” Metzli propped Eilidh an arm-length away by her shoulder, hoping to help her see that their solution was the correct one. She continued to argue, to kiss them and beg them to let someone else do it, but Metzli simply shook their head. It wasn’t easy on their part, by any means, though it may have looked like it was. They had coordinated so many plans, were looking forward to a life full of love and adventure, and now…there was no chance. All of that was being given up so that everyone they loved could have that instead. It would hurt, it would ache indefinitely. But to Metzli, that fate was far better than having nothing at all.

Looking to the rest of the group, Metzli could see a tsunami of emotions crashing together, further increasing the difficulty of their decision. Eventually though, they found their resolve. “Emilio, you’re not giving your life. You haven’t lived long enough to make that decision so easily. Teddy and Cass, I know this is hard. I know. But who else will it be? Who else has had their chance at life? I’ve lived over a hundred and fifty years. I promised, I know. And you know what?” They chuckled in disbelief, shaking their head. “I did. I worked so hard to get out of here with you all. I kept my promise, and now I’ve gotta make good on my promise to love and protect you.”

“Metzli…” Emilio’s voice was low, quiet. He wanted to argue that they had more to live for than he did, but Teddy’s grip on his hand reminded him that that wasn’t quite true. And there was something unspeakably cruel about that, wasn’t there? The last time Emilio had run from a town as it came to an end, he’d had nothing left to live for and nothing to chase him down and put him out of his misery. This time, he had so much left to do and the world demanding someone stay to pay the toll anyway. Two years ago, this decision would have been a simple one. But now? Now, it was harder than it should have been. Now, it wasn’t him who was making it. 

He glanced over at Teddy, the stricken look on his face. He was going to lose something here today, no matter who made this sacrifice. And Emilio hated that. He hated that these were the kinds of choices they were given, hated that this was their lot in life, hated that Metzli was volunteering for this now, just when they were starting to make peace with each other, hated that he knew he was going to let them. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” he said, still low. It was a pointless gesture, both the quiet tones when just about everyone in their group had some kind of enhanced hearing and the offer that Metzli had already turned down once. “Already made it longer than anybody thought I would, you know. Wouldn’t hate it if it ended like this.” They were going to say no — he knew they were going to say no — but Emilio still felt the need to offer. They deserved that much. He got that now.

Frustration built up in Cass throughout it all, through Teddy’s voice echoing her pleas and Patricia’s teary chuckle and Teagan’s sidelong glance in her direction. They were supposed to all get out. They were supposed to all be safe. She was supposed to meet up with Sloane after, they were supposed to all get away together, and it wasn’t —

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. They weren’t supposed to be faced with more impossible choices when the decisions had all already been made. Cass had already lost friends to this crumbling mess of a town, had already lost people before the chaos started thanks in part to the strange ‘warning signs’ the town threw out as it started the too-slow, too-fast process of dying. She wasn’t supposed to lose anyone else. She wasn’t supposed to have to leave her family behind. 

Teddy’s boyfriend made an offer, and it took everything Cass had not to beg Metzli to take it, not to say outright that it would be better if they left someone she didn’t care about behind than it would be to leave someone she loved. It was a selfish thing to feel, but she felt it so entirely that it threatened to swallow her whole before the crumbling town could. Growing up the way she had, first in the system and then on the streets, made it so easy to accept that terrible things were bound to happen and to prefer it when they were happening to people you didn’t know. It also made it harder, somehow, when they were happening to the people you loved. There were so few of them. Cass couldn’t afford to lose any more.

“I don’t want that,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “We don’t want that.” She gestured between herself and Teddy, speaking for him without permission because she knew she was right. For all that she’d resented him, she knew that Teddy grew up much in the same way she had. She knew that, like her, he would prefer it if strangers took the fall in place of friends. Teddy didn’t want anyone to die for him any more than Cass did. She was confident in that, at least. “Let it be someone else, Metzli, please. I — I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. You’re my family, the first family I ever had. Please don’t leave me here alone.” 

— 

There wasn't anything Teddy could say that Cass hadn't already. Though her glances towards Emilio hadn't gone completely unnoticed. It wasn't her fault she never had a chance to really meet him and get to know the side Ted had come to love. But that didn't really stop the sting and feeling of betrayal at the silent suggestion. His heart was pounding. If he had not spent the majority of the last few months learning how to control his shifting, he might have sported a much more toothsome look by now. Instead he looked much like a dog someone left out in the rain. Tearing his eyes between the one who had volunteered themselves, and the man who tried to take their place. Neither would be acceptable. How could they be? Teddy's life had been empty, so fucking empty until these beautiful lights filled it with meaning and worth. He gripped even tighter on Emilio's hand. Maybe even painfully, but not on an intentional scale. He'd probably have done the same to Metzli if he already had a hold on them. 

"You– you can't leave us." He repeated numbly, barely audible. "I said I'd go wherever you go, appa. You promised we'd be together." In lieu of a well thought out argument, Teddy began to mumble like a lost toddler. Felt the burn in his legs as he willed them to move but they stayed firmly in place. His stomach churned, and his chest rose and shuddered with his ragged breath. "Why-why-why would it even have to be you? Huh?" He stammered, a rising defensive rage bubbling up out of the demon. "Haven't you given enough? You deserve to make it out with all of us just as much as anyone else, more even. You fought for this appa, you have to come with us s-someone else out there has to-" The tears his wide stare had been holding back finally burst through the dam. Catching his voice behind a curtain of hyperventilation and choked sobs as the realization that there was no way that he was leaving here with his heart intact. 

—

Patricia couldn’t think of anything witty or insightful to add to this devastating moment of collective revelation. All she could do was wrap an arm around Teagan, and watch as each member of this group reacted in their own ways. Even if all of them were normal people, intertwined only by common interests and memories, this would still hurt like shit, but they weren’t just that. Everybody here had been affected by Metzli for the better, time and time again. How could anybody ever accept that a world of people they’d never met, of people that would mostly never know them or care about them, should be more important than the one person who was good without expectation? It was a herculean task, and it couldn’t be resolved in the mere minutes that remained before the world ended.

Only an immensely small percentage of the world would know just what had been sacrificed for them, and even less would get to know who was lost for them. It was a devastatingly lonely fate that Patricia wouldn’t wish on nobody, not even those that had taken Teagan from her. There was no point consoling others right now, because not even Patricia could keep it together to do so. There was no staying strong, not anymore. Thoughts were quickly becoming harder to grasp as the knot in her throat felt larger and larger. Patricia leaned over and buried her face in Teagan’s shoulder, quickly dampening the fabric of her shirt with a stream of the tears just as inevitable as the shudder of the earth beneath them.

Teagan’s whole demeanor softened at the emotional outpour around her. She found herself wanting to fight back too, but there was a look in the vampire’s eye that told her everything she needed to know. They were a parent, a lover, a friend, a sibling, and everything in between. Soon, they would be none of those things except in the fleeting memories of everyone surrounding them. Macleod would mourn for the rest of her days, and as Teagan looked back over to her whilst she held Patricia, she held back a sob. The people she loved were always so strong and never let their tears see the light of day. Each a cache of emotions they held tightly shut. Holding tempers that could be akin to a blazing fire. But there they were, extinguishing the flames themselves so as to not leave anything unsaid.

“Shh…” She cooed, bringing Patricia closer. What else could she say? Teagan led the pair to the ground to get a better hold, a better look at the damage Metzli’s decision was making. It was then that she realized just how good of a friend they were to Patricia. She should’ve known. They had played a willing part in her rescue mission, after all. Teagan then cried, too. She held them at arm’s length so she didn’t have to feel the love they so obviously wanted to give, and did anyway, even without her permission. “I’m sorry,” Teagan whispered, looking at Metzli. “I should’ve gotten to know you better.” They shook their head at her, proclaiming her words nonsense and that they wouldn’t change a thing. Sometimes a quiet love is the one that echoes the farthest. Nodding in understanding, Teagan placed a kiss on Patricia’s head and intertwined her fingers with Macleod’s, extending her strength and love to her.

“Come on man,” Metzli shook their head and faced the wreckage that White Crest was becoming. “You’re not getting out of living that easy. You’ve got shit to do. Besides…” Shrugging, they turned to Cass and Teddy for a moment, going back to Emilio to finish their thought. “You need to make sure everyone stays together and gets out. No one else knows how important that is more than you.” 

Metzli again turned around, this time facing Eilidh. If it wasn’t ghosts or ghouls, it was the intimate celebrations that brought back the dead, or better yet, kept them alive. Metzli had done just that only weeks ago when they put together a Día de Muertos party. Eilidh did that daily when she saw a butterfly and said hello to her first love. They wondered, for a moment, if she’d do the same when she found a blooming datura. At the thought, Metzli stared into her eyes with a softness that could compete with silk. Their hand grazed the necklace they’d given her and they swallowed a sob so they could replace it with a longing kiss. “I’m so glad you’re the first and only woman I’ve ever loved.” They muttered against her lips, stepping away slowly while holding her hand with a pressure she could feel. Raising it just as slow and biting hard enough to draw her black, clotted blood. She scoffed out a teary chuckle and roughly pulled them to her for another firm kiss. A proper one that ended with their blood in her mouth. “I love you,” They said in unison, in each other’s languages they learned for one another.

Finally, they faced Teddy and Cass, only cupping her cheek. They would’ve cupped Teddy’s too, but sadly, one needs two hands for that, and he was on their left. “Listen guys, I’m not leaving you because I want to. I made a promise to protect you. To love you so unconditionally that I would quite literally put my life on the line for you. Of course you don’t want this, hell, I don’t want this, but it’s the solution we’ve got.” Metzli tightened their eyes shut in a vain attempt to halt the tears that fell anyway, and slowly, they brought Cass and Teddy into the tightest hug. Tight enough to imprint their bodies onto their skin so they’d stay there forever and they never had to forget how beautiful it felt to have love wrap around them. “It’s not about deserve. That went out the window a long time ago. It’s just about love. That’s all this is, and if you remember that, I’ll never leave you. You’ll never be alone. Look around you.” They parted from the hug and gestured to the people that had banded together to leave. “We made a family, Cass. We started it. And then it got bigger.” Teary eyes met with Teddy’s. “So no, you two will never be alone, and you know, you know, I will find a way back. This isn’t the end. It never is in our world. I chose you from the get-go. I chose you when I said we should leave. I’m choosing you now.” With a pause, they let go and stood tall, looking at their car. “We don’t have a lot of time and I need to get something done. Can I do that?”

Teddy’s grip on his hand was almost painful, tight and certain in a way that told the slayer just what the florist thought of his offer. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Metzli had that bound and determined look in their eye, the one that told Emilio that their mind was made up. For all the ups and downs that their strange almost-friendship had been through throughout his year in White Crest, he could certainly recognize that that look meant there was no arguing with the vampire. 

Glancing to the rest of the group — to Teddy’s stricken expression, to the heartbroken kid, to Teagan and Patricia on the ground and Macleod murmuring in the language she and Metzli shared — Emilio nodded. “I’ll make sure they get out,” he promised. Metzli was right; out of all of them, Emilio knew best just how important that was. He could save people, this time. It didn’t make up for the ones he couldn’t save before, didn’t undo the shit he’d done, but it was something. It had to be something.

Cass, of course, was far less understanding. She wanted an easier answer, wanted a better ending to this story. She wanted the kind of thing that only ever existed in fairytales, where the people she loved were fine and everyone lived happily ever after. Never mind that that was already out the window now, never mind that people had already died for this town, never mind that it would all be for nothing if one more didn’t join them. All Cass wanted was to get out of here with what was left of her family intact. That was all. 

And this world couldn’t even give her that. 

Her tears soaked Metzli’s hand as it rested against her face, and she shook her head adamantly. “It isn’t fair.” After everything they’d been through, after all the work they’d put into regaining their soul, how was this how it ended? How was it okay that they were going to die when they’d only just started to live? The two of them had just celebrated Metzli’s birthday, the first time they’d been allowed to do so. It was supposed to be the first of many, was supposed to be the beginning of a new tradition. They were supposed to have decades of movie nights and stupid dinner parties, were supposed to be there for each other until Cass was old and gray. Cass was supposed to have her sibling with her until the day she died. 

They should have had sixty more years of laughter and joy and peace. It wasn’t supposed to end in a crumbling town, with tears and dust. It wasn’t supposed to end abruptly and without warning, the way every other attempt at a family Cass had ever made had. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But there was no other way it could be, either. 

Metzli wouldn’t let anyone else make this decision in their place, not even if they were volunteering for it. No matter what they thought of themself, they were good. Too good to let anyone else do this in their stead, no matter how much Cass might long for it. Maybe it was always going to end like this after all. Maybe, since the beginning, Metzli doing something this selfless and this wonderful and this heartbreaking was inevitable. Maybe good people didn’t get happy endings. 

She whimpered as Metzli spoke, a thousand arguments building up in the back of her mind. But you won’t, she wanted to scream. You won’t be here. You won’t be here, and the town is gone and Levi is going to go back into the sea and Teddy probably doesn’t like me much, anyway, and I can’t go back to being alone when I’ve only just started to be with other people. This can’t be all the time we get. This can’t be all the family I get to have. It was stupid and selfish and childish, but she wanted to stomp her feet and throw her hands up and scream at the sky, wanted to yell at a god she wasn’t even sure she’d ever believed in for making this the hand they were dealt. It isn’t fair. I need you here. I still need you here. 

But what good would it do? What good would throwing a fit at the end of the world do for any of them? It would only make Metzli feel worse than they already did and, god, Cass didn’t want their last impression of her to be that. She didn’t want Metzli to feel anything negative towards her at the end, didn’t want to be the inconvenience every one of her short-lived foster families had accused her of being. There was so much here that she didn’t want, and so little time to correct any of it. 

There was still too much to say, still too much to do. And the world was still ending. And not one bit of it was fair.

She reached out, clutching Metzli’s hand desperately. “I’m not — I’m not ready,” she said, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a sob. “I’m not ready to be without you. We just started. This is supposed to be the beginning.” 

The messy mix of memories that had firmly rooted Teddy in place began to settle into the corners of his mind, letting him slip into an unkind and uncomfortable sense of morbid pain. He had stopped flicking his gaze between Metzli and Emilio at some point, maybe when the older of the two guided the younger to keep everyone else safe. A firm decision that didn't seem up for debate. No, instead his eyes fell on Cass. Watched every bit of the churning ocean of emotions washed over her features in a way his inability to process the very same ones wouldn't allow. He watched until they were both pulled into a hug so tight his view was obscured, and he could only feel the flushed heat radiating off her skin. Hear her heartbeat banging against its cage in rhythm with his own. 

Her words compelled him to do something he never really would have thought of, if not for how Metzli brought them closer together. Funnily enough, their connection to Levi and Marina made them something of siblings, but it might just have been the old vampire who made them family. Teddy gently, far more gently than he had been (and still was) gripping tight to his boyfriend, slipped his hand into Cass's. A wordless promise that if she wanted it, if she allowed it…he would be there for her. They both knew so intimately what it was like to be alone. Maybe it was time they tried to get rid of that feeling together. 

Teddy wasn't ready to lose Metzli either. The annoying gnawing voice that always grated at the back of his head reminded him that they hadn't even really known each other that long. That the strange sensation of knowing the vampire all his life had come from a stint of magic that temporarily altered his memories and gave him and Metzli a few days where he got to be a real kid. Their kid. And now… now he was going to be an orphan again. It didn't really matter how old you were, losing that part of yourself… especially after having fought so long to feel it. To really belong to something or someone who chose you because of who you are, not something you did or something you could give. He wasn't ready to lose it all again. It didn't matter what he had with Levi. A thousand years and that would never be this. 

A loving embrace, before a calculated release. 

A selfless sacrifice that would leave a living scar on everyone here. Teddy wept. Silent and steady. Hot blistery tears streaking down his cheeks with no sign of stopping. His breath stifled any words, as if he could think of any. What the hell was he supposed to say? How do you tell someone that they've become such an ingrained part of you that to pull them away means the very fabric of you begins to unravel? How do you keep standing when the ground below gets ripped away? The closest he could think of was a sobbed, repeated phrase. Over and over. 

"Apa, please. I love you."

—

All Teagan could do was watch with eyes so full of mist that everyone was a blur. Looking down at Patricia, it was all she could do to keep herself from falling apart when there were parties clearly more affected than she was. For the time being, she kept quiet, wiping her eyes to see Metzli hurry around the vehicles as the world crumbled around them. Time was ticking, and Teagan could’ve sworn she could hear the clock bell roar, confirming Metzli’s suspicions. 

Why did it have to end this way? Life always had a cost, and it looked like there was nothing left to do but pay, and Metzli was holding the lump sum. One so large that it was lodged in their throat while they said their goodbyes, even taking the time to speak to those they barely knew. Teagan appreciated that, looking at Macleod with eyes so full of sorrow, they were dripping down her cheeks. Everything was breaking, and the nix didn’t wield the power to make everything come to a full stop when the collection of all their fears was titanic. But that strange, one-armed vampire did. And they knew it. 

“I’m not ready either,” Metzli whispered with a tired smile, pulling Cass into one more tight hug after spending a few minutes rushing to transfer items to the other vehicles and writing letters as fast as they could. They figured their belongings would be better off kept by those they loved than lost beneath the rubble of a lost town, and their family would pass on their goodbyes to everyone they knew. Of that they were sure of. 

“And Teddy,” Metzli locked eyes with the one and only son they ever had, wrapping their arms around him and giving into their heart that they opened up so anxiously to the world. “ I love you. I love all of you.” That time, they looked around them, taking the time to share a glance at everyone, disregarding the way their backwards world could they offer their dying breaths and it be called beautiful. 

Emilio, the man that hated them without a second thought became one of their greatest allies, and even better friend. 

Patricia, a woman who so lost in her failure that she nearly lost sight of what she could have. Now she had everything, and the best was yet to come. 

Teagan, a girl who kept everyone at arm’s length, was now using those very limbs to encase people with love. 

Cass, once a stranger that prevented them from being their own worst enemy. She shared Metzli’s  fear of loneliness and abandonment so intimately that she became tightly entangled in their heart and made a family. Their first. 

Teddy, a boy who was never chosen despite holding the biggest heart made of gold that persevered through loneliness, and now, finally, he knew what unconditional love from a parent was. 

Eilidh, the first and only woman Metzli ever loved. With her heart as full and lively as every garden she tended, she gave the vampire everything, even if it was to her detriment. She found their heart, but she’d always be their soul. Their death so early on in their relationship was not the ending they wanted, but they handed her the seeds for the future and were giving her a watering can to nurture something into bloom. Each petal would be marked with their love and she would be reminded every day that they would never leave her. With their sacrifice, with their love, they were painting the future in the background with only 30 minutes left. 

And yes, they would all grieve. But Metzli found comfort that their deep grief meant that they loved fully. They all opened their hearts despite the inevitable. Metzli had many regrets, but never would they regret the love they gave, or anything they did in the name of it. 

With one final round of hugs and a lingering kiss for Eilidh, the ending was cemented. Each rumble and shake grew in strength, leading a flurry of tremors to course through Metzli as their legs settled in the driver side. “Please, take care of each other. Please.” They faced everyone, rolling the window down and shutting the door with their face tear-stained and red. “And Cass?” They chuckled dryly, a glimmer of humor pushing through with a twitchy, quick nod. “Tell amá I love her, okay? And check Macleod’s glove compartment in her trailer. There’s a little present there for you.”

It wouldn’t have mattered if the quakes hadn’t been trembling through the ground, wouldn’t have mattered if the sun was high in the sky or the clouds were all far away. In that moment, no matter what the world actually looked like, all Cass would have seen was darkness. The scene blurred around her as her eyes filled up with tears, and she shook her head again, adamant. It couldn’t end like this. After everything, it couldn’t end like this. They’d made it out. They’d gotten all the way to the edge of town, had plans to go farther, had a future all mapped out and ready to go. They were all supposed to survive this. They were all supposed to be okay.

But the world, Cass had learned long ago, never gave much of a shit about the way things were supposed to be. It didn’t matter that Metzli was going off to stop the apocalypse, didn’t matter that a dozen other people were giving their lives for the same reason. The world was ending anyway. It already had.

Cass clung to Metzli stubbornly as they hugged her, and she wanted to drag the vampire with them, wanted to say fuck the world, let it end, I don’t care even if it wasn’t true. She was too kindhearted to doom the world, even if hers would be so much emptier without Metzli in it. Even if it felt like the apocalypse might as well have been successful in this moment.

She sniffled as Metzli spoke again, nodding her head even as her throat burned, even as her chest ached. Whatever present Metzli had left for her would be far too small to fill the void carved out in her life, but at least she’d have something to hold onto. At least she’d have something tangible to remind her that once, for a moment, someone had loved her like this. 

Too soon, the goodbyes were over. There wasn’t enough time in the world to say everything they wanted to say, and there certainly wasn’t enough time now. Metzli had to go, and so did the rest of them. Someone tugged her back towards the cars, Teddy’s boyfriend practically dragging him along, and everything hurt long after Cass was settled into the seat with a seatbelt holding her in place, long after Metzli disappeared in the rear view mirror. 

There was a future ahead of them, still. There was a windshield with a whole world contained behind it, a world that would continue to exist because of an infuriatingly selfless vampire who left to save the planet because it needed them to. And Cass had needed them, too. She understood it — of course she did — but she didn’t think the ache would ever really go away. Maybe, if she could ever look to the future in the windshield instead of the crumbling past in the mirror, it would hurt less. Or maybe it never would. Either way, she figured, they had to keep driving. For Metzli. For all of them.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Corpses in the Meadow || Morgan & Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Nothing brings together two dead women like wildflowers and flesh eating watermellons.

Morgan had thought her days of laying in the ground for hours were behind her, but April really was the cruelest month and she hadn’t gotten free of its grip yet. Today, under a bright spring sun, she furrowed her nails deep into the earth and tried to pull herself under, as if the ground and all its creatures were a blanket for her. But of course the earth didn’t hold anyone like that except for the dead. The for real, permanent, definitely-no-walking dead. Morgan brushed her fingers along the newly sprung wildflowers, imagining what their petals felt like, if they were as tender and smooth as her memory told her they were. At least she could enjoy their colors, and their fluffy golden pollen centers. Morgan plucked some carefully by the stem and knotted them together from her sprawl on the ground. Maybe if she ever got to have a real funeral, she’d ask whosever was left to care about her for wildflowers. She should probably find out if her zombie goo was toxic to plants, but if she could go back to being a part of the world, if she could be felt and taken in, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Carefully, Morgan plucked more flowers from around her and wove them with care, on and off, between laying and watching the bright eye of the sun through the trees, until she heard the grass crunch behind her. Morgan tilted her head back, squinting to catch a glimpse of the figure. Please no hunters, she thought. I don’t want to convince a hunter I deserve to live today.

Springtime was here, and Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. For one so shrouded in death, life in all its forms filled her with delight. As the forest shivered, awoken from its winter slumber, she felt herself drawn more and more to its embrace. Of course, she did have the professional need to be there so frequently, but that wasn’t the main motivation. Even when her ventures were work focused, such as now, she took her time getting to the needed destination. Especially after the gateway adventure and all these damn fires. Between work and wondering what the hell was going on, she deserved to have a moment of relaxation. But she tried not to worry about that now. She inhaled a deep breath—the hint of spring air tickling her nose, so accustomed to just a suggestion of its true form she didn’t know the difference. The sounds of creatures, excited by the revitalized forest as well, filled her ears with a wonderful symphony. Colors that weren’t there the day before dazzled her eyes and—wait, who was that?

She squinted. Aye, looks like a person. Well, she should probably investigate. Changing course, she got closer, and closer, and closer, until she could clearly see what the other person was doing. Arms to her hips, brows furrowed, voice stern, she called, “Hey, you’re not supposed to do that!” A pause. Then, a grin. “Nah, it’s whatever. Just don’t pick too much, or I will have to actually ask you to stop.” Even closer now, she peered curiously as the braided flora, trying to make sense of its unfinished form. “What are you working on, anyway?”

The voice calling out to Morgan definitely didn’t sound like a hunter. “Sorry!” Morgan called dully. Then the voice warmed, not laughing, but bouncing like it wanted to. Slowly, Morgan sat up to look at her. Definitely a lot prettier and friendlier than any stranger she’d run into in the woods so far. “I’m making, well…” She looked down at her handiwork. It had gotten too long to be a circlet, unless she wanted to twist it over itself. “Honestly, I’m just passing the time. Making things helps me think. Or not think, I guess. Normally I do that at home, I’m not a serial flower picker or anything. I just didn’t feel like being inside about it.” But she did, apparently, feel like oversharing about it.

Morgan grinned ruefully and held it out to the stranger. “Do you want it? It’ll look better on you, with how tall you are.” She nodded at her, insisting. “Are these your woods?”

“Seems like you’ve had a lot of time to pass.” Eilidh mused while surveying the length of the, well, the to-be-decided. It reminded her of her own absentminded creations, especially during days when she would forego human society for days, weeks, months at a time. And it was a pretty little thing; she could tell its creator had experience.

She perked excitedly at the offering—eyes alight and giggle bubbling—and immediately claimed it, though with care. Within her grasp, she gently turned and twisted the woven piece, concentration on her face. Suddenly, epiphany. She dropped down to her knees, taking care to not disturb too much of the vegetation below. She wrapped it once around her head, quickly connecting the end piece to the rest, and then began to weave the remaining part within her own hair into a side braid. “I don’t claim them, but I do work here.” Feeling hospitable after the generosity, she continued. “Speaking of, I was heading over to do something. But I know a real good flower spot on the way. It’s not on a commonly used trail. So, nice and private. But you can’t pick any of those. And I’ll know, so don’t try. Still, they’re wonderful to look at, ‘specially right now.” She finished the braid. Part of the flowers still stuck out at the end; her hair just wasn’t quite long enough. Ah well. “Interested?”

Morgan looked up at the sky to check the position of the sun, then her phone to confirm her suspicions. She’d been laying here for hours and it had barely felt like anything. Maybe that could have been a relief, but she’d been down this proverbial hole too many times to be glad about skipping suffering by being absent from herself. “I guess I have, yeah…” Her voice tapered off into a laugh. Technically, she had all the time in the world.

She smiled in spite of herself as the woman wrapped the flowers into her hair. She seemed to have done it before. “So that’s why you’d have to stop me if I became too much of a flower thief. At least you’re a lot more pleasant than any of the other public service workers I’ve met in town.” Although between Marley Stryder and Kaden in his scowl-y asshole days, that bar was pretty low. Morgan looked at the sky again. It was well past morning, but she didn’t feel like going back home while everyone in it was away doing...alive-people things, presumably. “Uh...you know, I don’t see why not. It’s okay if I take pictures of them though, right? It’s not gonna hurt them any.” Slowly, she got to her feet and waited for the woman to show her the way. “If we’re going off on unknown woodsy adventures, I should probably know you as something better than ‘strangely nice park lady’. I’m Morgan.”

Mischief twinkled in Eilidh’s eyes when she looked upon the other. “You caught me. I want all the flowers to myself.” Sentence punctuated with a mock evil laugh. She did, perhaps, on her off time, pick flowers and use them for various things. She mostly placed them in her hair, or pressed them in a book, or added them to her crafts, similar to the one now braided in her hair. She always made sure not to take too much, and to give back to the earth in ways she could.

Her? Pleasant? James would scoff if he was near, but he was off having private time. Though, at times, she could be such a word. Especially when she was surrounded by all that nature could give: when the sun hit the nape of her neck and the breeze cooled her skin and the trees danced amongst the flow. It calmed her. It was why she always felt drawn to it. It was her home. It was the only true one she had left, anyhow.

She arose, brushing off remnants of the ground off her skirt. “Aye, photography’s fine. Just don’t have me in them. I don’t like paparazzi. And call me Macleod.” She nodded in greeting. Then, with her head, she motioned onward and began their journey. “This way. It’s not too far from here.” Initially, the trail they took was large and the ground smooth, packed down by many feet over the years: a main path. The trail Eilidh quickly turned into was less so. It was marked, and it would come up on the map if you looked, but the ground was noticeably less tame. And the surrounding wilderness knew this, knew the barrier between it and the path was weaker. Eilidh didn’t bat an eye as they continued.

Morgan laughed softly in response. “Are you saying you’re secretly an international pop star on the run, Macleod?” She teased dryly. “Because I could use the boost to my Instagram profile. Cat pictures interspersed with flowers, decaying animals, and their bones isn’t very mainstream.” She took out her phone, arching a brow, then turned and took a close shot of a tree branch. It was easier to hold herself up in front of someone, especially a stranger. She had her pride, even if sometimes she overshared to the point of distressing people. And then, new people were such convenient puzzles and experiences. She didn’t have to be sad looking at herself if she was learning their expressions and what they were like and how their presence colored the world.

She followed this woman, Macleod, down the trail. It was one of those obscure ones that was half grown over by neglect, or some unspoken message from nature. Morgan had a sense that they were passing into someone else’s territory. Morgan stumbled behind her, scanning their surroundings, the birds flying above the trees, the blur of butterflies in the distance. Further on, she thought she spied a shadow, some deer maybe, lazing on its way through its day. “And this is definitely a secret flower patch and not a secret murder patch, right…?” She asked.

“I’ll never tell.” She winked. Then, pause. Instagram. Eilidh was almost sure she knew which one that was. Should someone the age she looks like know what that was? She decided not to mention it and look it up later. “Really? ‘Cause all that already got my attention.” The brief moment the phone faced her, she stiffened ever so slightly—shoulders barely rose, face found a subtle hardness. As the lens passed on to a new target, the tension washed off her just as quickly as it came. Her eyes followed the new direction. A simple tree branch, but the way the light hit it just so… she understood the interest.

She let out a short chuckle. “Nah, the murder patch is half a klick that way.” She took note of Morgan’s unease and quickened her pace, figuring it was best to get to their destination sooner rather than later. The breeze picked up, brushing aside the flimsy vegetation ahead and the pair got an early glimpse of their goal. Colors erupted between the green, as if a window into another world. The wind took a turn, and the air suddenly became engulfed in a cornucopia of sweetness. Unfortunately, to her it was only a little tickle in her nose. Nothing more.

“Really?” Morgan said, brows raised. “Well that’s not something I hear every day. You don’t have a collection too, do you? Because I have a lot of death sculptures and I’m running out of shelf space.” Not that she’d been adding much to it lately. Between taking care of her family and being too miserable to cook for herself, she hadn’t been doing much in her studio besides breathing and spacing out. But if a normie like Cutler could find something nice in it, maybe Macleod could too.

But before Morgan could make her pitch, they arrived. It had rained the night before and the ground was still iridescent with water, which now shimmered in the sunlight as if enchanted with a glaze of pearl. White flowers streamed over the grass as if they’d been poured from the sky. Bunches of violets and peonies danced in the breeze and a thin haze of dandelion puffs and pollen floated like pixies through the air. Morgan gaped in awe, too awed to bother aiming her camera. “I was about eighty-five percent sure you were serious about this not being a murder patch, but stars above--” She tipdoed carefully into the flowers, trying to disturb as few of them as possible. “What are their names?” she asked, sinking down to brush the petals. “What do they smell like?”

Eilidh perked curiously. “Can’t say I have a ‘death sculpture’ collection. What’d they look like?” Images of a room overcome with ceramic skeletons filled her mind. And then, the same room taken over by structures constructed by pieces of the dead. But all theorizing dashed from her mind at the sudden burst of colors. Despite having found herself in the spot many times, the sight was still delightful. Especially now, when many of the flowers were finally awoken from their slumber—stretching, dancing in the spring air. Their full vitality overwhelming the area in every hue. The forest was a sky, and this was its rainbow. Morgan’s reaction reminded Eilidh of when she first found the area less than a year prior. Sadly, it was located just as the flowers began to take their rest. But now she can enjoy it in its full glory.

“Well, that one’s Jeffrey, that one’s Helga.” She pointed to flowers at random. “Kidding… Maybe. Who knows, they could like being called Helga.” Still, she wasn’t going to force upon them a name. But she wasn’t sure if her current company would understand the sentiment, so she continued. “Anyway, these are known as Dog’s Tooth,” she motioned to a congregation of yellow petaled flowers, “and those’re Lady’s Slippers,” it was the collection of peculiarly shaped flower’s turn to be gestured at. “To name a few.” She matched Morgan’s tentative steps and joined her by a dense patch of purple flowers, one of which Morgan currently caressed. While the petals were small, their large numbers resulted in a relatively tall plant. She nodded, regarding its presence. “This one is supposedly very obedient. But I can tell they still have a wild spirit.” She too placed a gentle finger on the petals, though her fingers hardly registered anything. Her nose faced the same situation. A faint sweetness lingered, but only enough to register its existence, not to understand. “Uh, they smell like flowers. Sweet. Ya know.” Odd question. It made her wonder.

Something lurked just outside of view. But it was coming closer.

Morgan was too swept up in the rainbow spray of flowers to notice anything in the shadows. She was picking her way over to the edge of the patch so she could lay down without crushing any of them. She took out her phone and photographed the biggest flowers up close, and then from as close to ‘below’ as she could. “Pixie’s eye view, you know?” She teased. She really did want to find out if this was how Sundew and the rest of her pixie family saw the world, but Macleod didn’t need to know that. “Also, I think it would be pretty great if you actually had named them. Helga’s especially pretty.” She brushed her finger over the petals and tried to remember what they felt like. She would think of them when she touched Deirdre’s lips. Sometimes they were so smooth, just a little sticky with her matte color of the day. Maybe this flower was like that. Morgan smiled fondly at the association. At last she put her phone away and sat up, simply enjoying the light in the moment. She took a deep inhale, but all she got was a faint whiff of...flower. She couldn’t detect enough to separate anything besides that soft, pollen-y perfume. “I...had my sense of smell damaged in an accident,” she said at last. “Nothing’s like it used to be. But it’s okay, if you don’t know how to describe it. And it’s probably hard, with so many around…” She let the thought go with a sad sigh, then sat a little straighter, forcing herself to brighten. “How did you find this? I know it’s your job to be here, but it must have taken a while to notice.”

For a moment, Eilidh’s eyes glanced upon Maybe-Helga: a beautiful white flower with magenta freckles at the base of elongated petals. She wished she knew what they thought of the name. She’d try asking another time. “Hm, maybe.” Before musing on that thought for too long, she looked back at the sound of Morgan taking a deep breath. Watched as her features and her words darkened in the aftermath, a rolling cloud casting a shadow over the otherwise beautiful day. Eilidh wanted to help. But she couldn’t even pretend. The true complexities of their scents had been lost to the forgetfulness of time. A part of a life she pretended was fully disconnected from her. What she could detect now was all she could ever know. Not that it bothered her much; how could you miss something you never knew?

“I spend lots of time exploring. Probably too much.” She winked, pressing a finger on her lips. “Don’t tell anyone.” While she took her job seriously, she never understood the notion that her entire time had to be utilized for work, and work, and more work. What’s the point of being among flowers if she can’t (sort of) smell them? But that thought was pushed out when a rustle occurred just on the outskirts of the meadow. An intrigued hum rushed through her throat as she got a closer look of the– “Watermelon?” Odd. She hadn’t spotted it when they first got there. And watermelons don’t just appear out of nowhere. Taking another step forward, her eyes scanned the nearby area. Trying to detect whoever left it behind. Focus drawn elsewhere, the watermelon quickly rolled up to her without detection. She looked down and it rolled to a stop near her feet. As if struck by an invisible knife, it was cleaved in two. Fangs protruded out of each half, filling the newly opened space. Her eyes held curiosity at the action.

But it craved blood. Its fangs dug into her leg. With a shout, Eilidh started wrestling it off.

“Watermelon?” Morgan repeated. She had moved on to another flower, which had a pistil so large it made the flower look like a face with a long, odd nose, and was thinking of a person-name to give it. So she didn’t notice anything was wrong until Macleod screamed.

“Oh, shit--!”

Morgan scrambled to her feet and trampled through the flower patch to get to the other woman. “Hold on, you’re gonna be okay!” She shoved her arm between its wet melon jaws, forcing it loose enough for Macleod’s leg to come free. The melon, hungry for anything, chomped down on her arm, shredding her muscles to ribbons. Morgan clamped her jaw shut to muffle the sound of her scream and tried to bash the melon into the ground. But strong as she was, the melon was pretty hefty, and with the pain and awkwardness, she only managed to dent a few chunks off its bulbous shape. “I got this!” She choked out. “Get as far away as you can!”

Pent up force building up as she struggled, when the hold of the watermelon was released, Eilidh tumbled backwards. She shot back up to see… Morgan had taken her place? Eilidh didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed by her tenacity. But it was no time for introspection, it was clear Morgan was suffering. Eilidh stuck out the—non-chewed up—leg and fished out the iron dagger strapped to the thigh. Then she launched herself back into the fray. The blade struck deep into the green flesh. She pressed it forward, adding a new gash. But this time, no teeth sprouted out. Instead, it seized, trembling for a few moments, until stillness took over. The teeth relinquished themselves from Morgan.

She stared at the mangled arm. But something, something familiar, was off about it. “Fuck. Ok, let’s get you out of–” More rustling. Eilidh whipped her head to the sound. Two watermelons revealed themselves. Perhaps this was their area? She’d usually try and leave them alone at this point, if willing. Or in this instance, pick up Morgan and leave. But her leg was still healing, so she wasn’t sure if she’d be fast enough to outrun their roll. Making a decision, she gripped her leg, fingers encircling the flesh loosened by the first watermelon. She ripped off a chunk and threw it away from the flowers. Bait. Like hungry sharks, the two dived at the morsel. While they were distracted, she kicked into one so hard it bent her toes into the balls of her feet. The watermelon went flying into the trunk of a tree. Smash! Red chunks flew out of the mouth cavity as it rolled back onto the ground. Her eyes locked onto the remaining one. While her attention had been focused elsewhere, it had started making its move towards Morgan. But Eilidh interrupted, pouncing on it and sending stab after stab. It tried to roll away, the thing was surprisingly slippery considering, but with one final strike of her dagger, it stopped as well.

Morgan tumbled free and rolled onto the flowerbed. The watermelon’s teeth hurt coming out just as much as they’d hurt coming in. She dug her hands into the ground, ripping up grass as her arm knit itself back together again. “What are you doing? They’re gonna--” She turned her head toward the carnage. Macleod was--handling herself just fine? She saw the woman rip off her leg and use it as bait. The rest of Macleod’s watermelon slaughter passed in a daze. That woman had just ripped off her leg. She ripped off her leg like it was nothing and she didn’t have anything coming out of it except for a few black globs of blood. She didn’t even look phased. Was this what it felt like when people watched her cut off her fingers?

When the last watermelon had been stabbed to a pulp, Morgan sat up, staring at Macleod with open wonder. “You ripped off your leg to save me,” she said. “And I turned my arm into hamburger meat to save you.” She held out the still-healing arm for emphasis, laughing deliriously. The two of them pouncing on watermelons to save the day when neither of them were in danger of dying again. It was hilarious. “So...you’re a zombie too, huh?”

Eilidh looked over at the carnage. Hopefully those watermelons would have a better go next time. She nodded, a casual bow, with words leaving her lips, so soft they were illegible. She turned, remembering eyes were still on her. Passions had distracted her. In the heat of the moment, she forgot to consider how Morgan would react to, well, the way her body reacted to violence. Her leg was in clear view, already at work to reseal the newly torn muscles. There was no denying it; no future attempt at naivety. She considered her options. The grip on her dagger tightened. Wait, no, no, not that. Not again. She sighed. “Let’s just forget this and get you help.” But before she could pick up the injured woman, her eyes focused on her arm. The arm that was also in the process of healing. Same as her own tattered limb. Tissue that hadn’t been there just a moment prior concealed parts of the lesion, with more on the way. Where the fresh skin hadn’t been produced, a familiar black ooze leaked out. Arm mirrored leg. Realizing no real danger to Morgan was present, Eilidh relaxed. All the two needed was rest. She wished she had known that a minute earlier, though. Poor critters.

And there it was. That word. Tension returned, forcing her body into a straight fixture. Face contorted, words sour. “No, I’m not! I’m a–” She took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter what I am.” It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself rather than Morgan. “So you’re one then, yeah?”

“Oh, no!” Morgan said, grimacing with embarrassment. “It’s just. I’ve only seen two more of us. Ever. And one of them was my best friend who made me like this at the last minute. My last minute, not theirs, obviously. Uh--” None of these were the words she was actually trying to get out. “I’m not used to this. Or asking for personal terminology. Sorry. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I know the z word isn’t for everyone and I shouldn’t have assumed, I was just--” She looked at her haplessly. “It’s just been a really lonely time for me lately. And you’re--kind of incredible. And it does matter to me, what you want to be called. Very much. But yeah. I’m one too. A year now, so, still new. Newer at this than it feels like. How long have you been...you know? Do you meet a lot of people like us out here?”

While her ears listened to Morgan’s words, Eilidh’s eyes drifted to the blade in her hand—both slick and sticky with the juices of the fallen. Curiously—it was flesh after all—she gave it a lick, collecting the remnants of the slain creatures on her tongue. Nothing. She tasted nothing. Figures. She wiped the rest of the juices off with her sock before returning the dagger to its holster. Her eyes returned to looking, watching, Morgan. Studying her. The heat from her outburst still burned at her throat, but it started to cool as the woman’s words sunk in. The apology seemed genuine, and the attempt at reconciliation was appreciated. The creases on her face lifted, revealing a softer expression. Especially at the admittance to the newness of her existence and the loneliness following; at that she finally lifted her hands, patting the air in a calming motion. “It’s alright, it’s alright. That word is just—I hate it. But I’m not mad.” Not anymore, at least. The flow of apologetic words had been enough to calm Eilidh’s sudden temper. Brief silence followed as she looked Morgan up and down. Considering. “I’m a Slúagh. Similar to—yeah. But not the same. Guess we’re sorta like cousins in a way. Besides you, I’ve only met one zombie in White Crest. But I’ve seen a few here and there over the years.” Never another just like her, however. But she refrained from mentioning or even hinting at… them. That would only lead to further questions; questions she was not in the mood to answer. “And let’s just say I’m old.”

Morgan squirmed under the intensity of Macleod’s gaze. “Hated, noted,” she said. “I’ve never heard that other term before. Slu-aagh? Is it a regional thing, or a time period thing, do you think? But either way, I mean, all my birth family died before I did, so I barely remember what it’s like to have a cousin. This still feels really--I know we don’t have biochemical instant affinity for each other like fae do, but it feels wrong to brush off finding each other, when there don’t seem to be many of us who survive long enough to be found. And if we’re lucky, there won’t be many other people who can know us as long as we can. That, and we just saved each other…” She petered into laughter. “Even if we were pretty much fine the whole time. So, why not? Be friends, or as much as we can be to each other. Have you fed recently, by any chance? Because I have some meal prepped brain burgers at home, if you want. Or I could grab some of whatever you eat, if that’s something different. If you want, of course.”

“Slúagh.” The word rolled off her tongue naturally. “Not just a term. It’s what I am.” Eilidh insisted, that fire ready to return if resistance was found. At the following statement, Eilidh simply just stared. She couldn’t remember having—no, she’s never had a family. At least not biologically. Slúaghs can’t reproduce after all. No matter how much she had tried. With the mention of friendship, the blank expression plastered on her face shifted into the hint of a pleased one. Eyes widened in interest. It was always nice, making a new connection. And she was right. This existence could get lonely, in that sense. It was impossible to find those like her, and rare to run into those like Morgan. At least ones that had a good grip on themselves. Not everyone was cut out for their unique lifestyle, even with help. And moaning and groaning didn’t make for good conversation, though the wrestling could be fun. The other ones, well. Most acted like she was lying about who—what—she was. Sometimes the thought was enough to send her tempers firing. Enough to make her generally avoid association with them, in case of opposition. But for some reason she still craved that kinship. While the use of us didn’t go unnoticed, and her face had tensed at the usage, Morgan seemed to be less dismissive than the average. And those gentle eyes were very persuasive, inviting. Morgan reminded her of James; she should introduce them.

A drop of hunger stirred from within at the thought of feeding, dashing out any contemplation. “Nah. And getting your leg chewed to hell makes a gal hungry.” The damaged leg was close to appearing as if nothing happened, a craving the only reminder it did. She hummed curiously. “Brain burgers! Fun. I usually don’t bother cooking. So, brain burgers it is.” A small chuckle escaped her. “What a first friend date, though, huh?” She gestured to the watermelon gore surrounding them.

It meant far too much to Morgan to hear the word “friend date.” She was smiling too much. When she looked at the watermelon gore around them, she burst with laughter that startled two birds from their nest. She had to clench herself still to keep from bouncing. “Yes! I mean, to the burgers. They take awhile to make, getting some flavor to actually, you know, flavor, but they’re pretty nice! Not like what you remember, if you do remember, but it’s better than plain grey stuff.” And now she was talking too much again. As you do. Morgan got to her feet and dusted herself off. “But all this--” She gestured, laughing again. “I think that’s just how White Crest brings people together.”

[natusvincere]

braindeacl​:

Ha! I’ll get two so we can match.

[pm] Ever tried to just going outside? Don’t need dumbbells when you got rocks. Ohoho, strongest? Presumptuous. Well I’d hope so. Or all that dreadful time at the gym would be a waste. Not surprised you dislike kids. Sounds like you detest most life. 

How did you know that my life’s goal has been to ‘match’ with someone like you?

[pm] Outside just feels like it lacks decorum, for some reason.  I’m not some wild animal, and I won’t be throwing rocks to get stronger.  Nothing presumptuous about facts, sweetheart.  You’ve just pinned me down so well, it’s amazing.  Let me make a guess about you: obsessed to the point of delusion with inappropriately shaped inanimate objects.