#goodbye metzli | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magmahearts · 1 month

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TIMING: current. PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock, @vanoincidence, @muertarte & @magmahearts LOCATION: the magmacave. SUMMARY: as cass prepares to leave town for good, ariadne, van, and metzli show up to speak to her. when makaio finds them, things go south. CONTENT: parental death, child death, emotional manipulation, domestic abuse

Something had shifted with Metzli’s last visit. Cass had always known, on some level, that her father was capable of being dangerous in the same way she was, but she hadn’t thought much of it. Most of the people she loved were capable of being dangerous, and it never made her love them any less. Even now, she wouldn’t pretend she loved Makaio less than she had before. He was her father. She still loved him, would always love him. But… she didn’t think it was safe for him to be around her friends anymore. Not after he’d tried to have her hurt Metzli, not after he’d made it clear that there was only room in her life for him. She loved her father, but she didn’t think he belonged here.

Which probably meant she didn’t, either.

She’d already started planting the idea in his head. The two of them would be better suited for somewhere far from Wicked’s Rest. Alaska had a lot of volcanoes, and would put a whole country between them and the people she loved. It had a lower population, too, which meant less risk of… accidents like what had happened with the security guard. (Or things that weren’t accidents, like what had happened with the hunter. Cass tried not to think about that one.) Makaio actually seemed excited about it, and that was a good thing. The two of them could start over somewhere fresh, where no one she loved was in danger and she could have the family she told herself she wanted.

So, she was deep within the Magmacave, scribbling letters in a notebook. She knew she couldn’t say goodbye to her friends in person; they’d all ask her to stay, and Cass wasn’t sure she was strong enough to say no. The notebook would be a better option. She’d leave it in the woods near the cave, someplace where one of them could find it. They’d be sad, but they’d be okay. They’d move on. Everyone always did.

If she were less busy with the writing, she might have known someone was coming before the footsteps echoed off the walls. She might have registered that those butterflies in her stomach that signaled the presence of another fae, of her father, were absent with the approach. But knowing probably wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway, and so it didn’t matter that Cass didn’t hear them coming ahead of time. Her pencil paused in its scribbling as the footsteps finally echoed close by, head snapping up. “You shouldn’t be here.”

—

Van remembered the last time that she’d seen Cass and how tense it had been, of how she re-ran the conversation over and over in an attempt to figure out how to have it better next time. She wanted so badly for things go right that she didn’t heed the warnings. So what if Cass’s dad was dangerous? So what if Cass thought she was dangerous? Van was dangerous, too. She could do things, too. Unimaginable things. For the first time in a long time, Van wasn’t afraid as she walked towards Cass’s cave.

It almost felt foreign in a way, a forgotten kind of memory that was only linked to the dreams she used to have about all of them beneath the cavern’s edge. She thought about the times that she’d been there to visit Cass, with or without the others– of the comics spread out on the floor, of the movies they’d watch on their phones. Van wondered very briefly if she should’ve brought pizza like before.

It was just as difficult as before, navigating her way through the cave’s entrance to the opening that would lead her straight to Cass. Before she turned the corner, she could hear her friend’s voice ring out. “You like, said that before.” She didn’t have to do much to dodge the overhanging parts of the cave, as she was already on the shorter side. Instead, she walked right through, feigning authority and confidence. The moment she finally saw Cass, however, it shattered. She was wearing the necklace. It burned itself like a plate against the magma, but she was wearing it. Van stuttered as she spoke, “I just really wanted to see you. I’ve been– it’s– I missed you. A lot.”

—

Ariadne had missed Cass more than she could put into words. Except that she’d decided that she had to go by the cave now. There wasn’t any other option at this point. Cass could yell at her, ignore her, do anything, but she needed to see Cass. Cass was her best friend and she’d been the person to make Ariadne really understand what it was like to have a best friend who wasn’t part of your family. She also needed to make sure that Cass was okay. Even if Cass never wanted to talk to her again, Ariadne needed to see for herself that her friend was at least okay.

She should’ve brought cookies – M&M, or something like that. Chocolate-caramel-chip. All sorts. Lifesavers gummies too. Except she’d shown up, with only a embroidered piece of fabric that was another volcano. A volcano with stars shining above it.

“I’m sorry.” She nearly walked into Van as she arrived at the cave. “I – uh. I missed you. Also. I’m sorry. I know you said – but you’re my best friend in the whole world and I really, really miss you and I needed to see you because –” Ariande cut herself off. “Please, let me – us – let us in, just for a little while?”

There was something finite about visiting the cave again, feeling the stone beneath their fingertips as they trailed behind the two girls ahead of them. More than ever, Metzli felt like death was permeating around them. Whether it was from a separate source or from within, they weren’t sure, but they saw the way Cass’s father kept himself gripped to her. Quite literally.

From what they’ve seen and what they’ve experienced, Metzli knew all too well that it would take violence to get Cass away from that man instead of sacrificing the life she made for herself. They couldn’t let her give up the home she had worked hard to make, not for anyone. Especially not a man who abused his position as a father. The very thought of that made Metzli’s stomach sink, gagging them into silence while they listened to Van and Ariadne speak until there was a pause.

They swallowed, wringing their fingers together several times until the ball in their throat released their voice. “We love you.” Metzli breathed, “It has been too long since we are able to be with you. Just for a little bit, we will like to see you.” Their body stiffened, and they added, “Please.”

It was overwhelming, having three of her closest friends show up at once. For weeks now, Cass had felt as though she was drowning just dealing with them one at a time, trying to keep both her families intact while knowing they needed to be kept separate. Seeing Metzli, Van, and Ariadne all here, all telling her the same things they’d been telling her for weeks… It was hard. More than that, it was scary. Cass glanced towards the back of the cave, where Makaio was resting. Hadn’t he said he’d kill Metzli if they returned? Wouldn’t he do the same to Ariadne and Van? This was why she had to go. None of them could ever be safe so long as she was here.

Half panicked, she looked back to them, getting to her feet. Hesitantly, she put up her glamour, stone and magma giving way to skin and hair. It was the first time she’d bothered with it for weeks now, the first time she’d worn it in her cave since Makaio first introduced himself to her. She took a step towards them, gently pushing the notebook towards Van.

“I love you, too,” she said quietly. “All of you. But you can’t be here, okay? Just — Look, I’m not… We can’t do this right now.” Or ever, really. But if she told them her plans, would they let her go? The best case scenario was for them to leave, and for Van to open the notebook after. By then, Cass and Makaio would be gone, and it would be better. Wouldn’t it be better? “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been — weird lately. But you guys really need to leave.”

—

Van hadn’t anticipated the others, but they were welcomed additions. What better way to prove to their friend that she was loved than to all show up? It might’ve been overwhelming, too. There was no sense in facing the back and forth of what it could mean for Cass, because it was clear that they all thought they needed to be here for their own reasons. She figured from her’s and Cass’s last meeting that there’d be no such appreciation for the sudden visit, but hadn’t anticipated panic. She remembered what it looked like on Cass’s features from the time in the grocery store, Debbie’s blood spilt between them.

“What is this?” Van didn’t open the notebook that Cass pushed into her hands. Instead, she held onto it tightly at her side, fingers denting the flimsy cover. It was a little odd, seeing Cass in the way that she remembered her most easily, and while Cass might’ve argued that the former was more in tune with who she was, Van thought that they both were. She didn’t really know how fae glamor worked, but it was clear it was different across the board, given Regan only had to hide wings. Well, not anymore, but still.

“What’s going on, Cass?” This was different than the last time, too, Van realized. “Are you okay?” Her voice trembled slightly as she took a small step forward, catching Cass’s hand with her own. “You can come with us, right? You can come with us, and you can tell us.” Her eyes swept behind Cass where she anticipated Makaio’s arrival, but all she saw was darkness. “You can come with us.” It wasn’t a question this time, instead it was spoken with finality– a plea dressed in the most basic of emotion.

—

A part of her had wanted to be the only one here, but it made sense that Van and Metzli had shown up too. If Ariadne were honest, it was also a welcome addition, because it meant she didn’t have to convince Cass of her value all alone. Van and Metzli were perfect additions because she knew Cass loved them deeply too. So maybe this would work. Maybe she could get her best friend back. To show Cass just how desperately loved she was.

Cass’s panic was unsettling. Ariadne would’ve preferred anger, preferred being yelled at to go and being told she was annoying, no matter how much that hurt her. Cass’s glamor shifted, and Ariadne opened her mouth to say that Cass didn’t have to do that, that she was so incredibly beautiful in her true form, but maybe now wasn’t the time for that.

“Please come with us.” She echoed Van, taking a step forward and grabbing Cass’s other hand with her own, gaze falling to the notebook, wondering what was in there, if Van knew more, and what that more might have been. She hadn’t met Cass’s dad yet, but figured he had to be somewhere in here. “Just come on, we can – we can do whatever you want to do. Anything at all.” Because even on the most normal of days Ariadne would have done anything on earth for her friend. But now it seemed especially important to highlight that, to make sure that her best friend knew how much she’d do anything on earth for her.

“I missed you. I love you.” A mantra, almost. The way it flowed off her tongue was nearly like a prayer. “We love you. We love you.” She changed, not wanting to ignore the others who were there, even if a part of her wanted to wrap Cass up in their own little world. “What’s the matter?”

The reciprocated love, although quiet, meant everything after the months of pushback. It helped further prove to Metzli that it was never truly Cass who spoke so cruelly. Maybe she once believed the words as they flew off her tongue, but that didn’t seem the case anymore. They recalled the last time they were there, and looked to Cass’s shoulder. Metzli could still see the jagged grip on it, detested the idea that she was left with a bruise and an ache that they couldn’t soothe after they left.

Quickly, the thoughts were shaken away before more could be conjured in a panic. Their focus was better set on getting Cass somewhere away from her father, somewhere safe. By the looks of it though, with Metzli’s trained eye and propensity for analysis, the notebook Cass was shoving into Van’s hands looked a lot like a goodbye. Their shoulders fell and their posture stiffened at the realization, and it was all they could do to keep their composure. If Cass left, she would be sacrificing everything for a man that did not deserve it. Metzli couldn’t let that happen, and they were glad to have the unexpected help to convince her of that.

“You should not go with him.” It was a quiet plea, much too quiet for anyone to actually hear, so they said it again. “You should not go with him. He hurts you. Love is not supposed to be painful.” Metzli paused with a swallow. “Not like this. Will you please listen? We can help you.” They took a step forward, taking a breath. “We can. Let us help you.”

Van didn’t open the notebook, and that was good. Cass wasn’t ready for her to do that yet, wasn’t ready for the goodbyes to be acknowledged. If they knew she was leaving, they’d argue, and… Cass didn’t want to fight with her friends. She’d done enough of that already. She would be leaving them with this terrible impression, this quiet doubt of who she was and how she felt about them thanks to the last few months of distance she’d forced between them all. The last thing she wanted to do was widen that gap at the end, make any of them think she loved them less than she did. She was sick of fighting with them, but she didn’t know how to stop. This thing with Makaio was a boulder rolling down a hill; the momentum was too intense to keep it from rolling to the bottom.

“I’m okay,” she said to Van, a quiet mantra she’d been repeating for a while now. She was fine, she was loved. It wasn’t Makaio’s fault that no one else understood him; how could it be? They didn’t know him the way Cass did, didn’t know his history. Even if they did, they couldn’t understand. No one understood her father the way Cass did, and maybe that meant that all of this was okay. She could go with him, and she could understand. She could go with him, and she could be understood. It didn’t have to be a bad thing. So, she repeated it, trying to make it feel right. “I’m okay.” It didn’t burn her tongue the way a lie would have, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in her chest all the same.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, shaking her head. “I can’t go with you. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m — My dad needs me. He’s alone. He’s been alone for such a long time. I can’t… I have to stay with him. I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean I don’t —”

“What’s this?”

A jolt of panic rose to her throat at the cool, familiar voice behind her. Her guts had been so twisted up in all the things she was feeling that she’d neglected to recognize the fluttering in her stomach that had signified her father’s approach, had missed the tug of the cave around her as his feet padded along its floor. Cass whirled to face him, fear and guilt spreading over her face. “I — They were just leaving. They came to get some things, that’s all. Right?” She looked back at her friends, hoping they’d take the hint and go.

—

Van had done a lot of running. She’d shied away from danger time and time again, favoring ignorance as a means to keep things normal. But the reaction Cass had to her’s, Metzli’s, and Ariadne’s pleas was anything but. She knew that Cass didn’t believe herself to be the girl from the grocery store, but there was another edge to it. Van listened to Ariadne’s voice, soft and delicate, and then to Metzli’s– still soft, but with an edge of knowing. What did they know that she didn’t? She cast a glance in their direction before it realigned on Cass’s face.

Before she could echo Metzli’s sentiment about having Cass leave with them, the sound of footsteps and a minor vibration beneath her feet had her snapping her mouth shut. She looked past Cass to see her father– not traced in any kind of glamor, but more akin to the way that she’d seen Cass the last few times now; molten and blistering. She swallowed the plea she had tucked at the back of her throat, and instead held onto the notebook tightly.

It occurred to her then, what it meant. It was a goodbye. Cass planned to leave with him. Metzli figured it out quickly enough, and maybe she should have, too.

At Cass’s insistence that they agree with her, Van felt the weight of her’s and Cass’s friendship slip over her shoulders– a heavy weighted thing. The idea that if she didn’t fight back against the ill fated reassurances, she’d lose her forever. “We weren’t.” The words came out, never mind how minor, and they surprised her. Before, she would have relented– found her way through the cave’s mouth and escape only to message Cass later. But this had a certain finality to it, that if she turned her back, she might never see Cass again.

“We’re here to see her.” Her tongue felt heavy and iron pulled from the back of her throat.

—

Life was dangerous. Ariadne hadn’t been quite so aware of that when she was growing up (and she had a guess that being human then was a good part of it – and then there was how her parents didn’t have a clue about anything, and if they did have a clue, they kept all of that well away from her). But in the past year, and even more particularly in the last half year, and even more recently than that, she’d been terrified for Cass. Because her best friend wasn’t someone to shy away from friends. If anything, Cass was – or had been – ever-present in a way that provided unending comfort.

So her sudden drawing back was weird, especially when it came with confusing reasoning that Ariadne couldn’t find a way to make sense of. Wynne and Van had agreed about that, and now it seemed Metzli had, too. Even though she didn’t know them too well yet, they were Leila’s partner, and if there was someone whose opinion she knew would always be right, Leila was top of the list. Leila was scared for Cass too, she recalled.

Except before she could say anything else someone else appeared behind Cass. Non-glamoured, and beautiful in some ways (though not as beautiful as Cass), and she wrapped her arms around her torso, fingertips digging into each opposite upper-arm.

“Yeah.” She nodded, bolstered by Van’s words. “We’re – we’re here to see her. She’s my – my b-best friend and I just – I miss her. We all miss her.” Ariadne focused on Cass, not wanting to look her father in the eye, feeling incredibly tiny despite her height. “I can’t – can’t go, not yet.” The words burned in her mouth, and she found herself grateful that being dead meant she couldn’t blush anymore. Maybe it gave her an edge. Maybe it would allow her to help Cass.

—

Panic and fear were powerful feelings, sometimes unstoppable, but they brought out a violent honesty that was near impossible to suppress for most people. Metzli could recall countless moments they looked just as Cass did, and their mind went back to a painting still displayed at the gallery. A looming shadow in the background and a being unable to escape its touch. It was a sight Metzli had every instinct to protect Cass from, but they weren’t sure she’d allow for it.

The truth was far too terrifying to witness, so what would make the illusion fall right then? Metzli wasn’t sure, but they knew they had to try. Even if it meant getting burned. Stepping forward, they placed themself between Cass’s father and the two younger women, becoming a shield.

“Her friends miss her. I miss her too.” They stated firmly, keeping their eyes low and avoiding any gaze, but focused. Fear didn’t drive them to look away, not exactly. Looking at the man would only drive Metzli to violence, and they didn’t want to find out how Cass would react if that happened. “If you want to be good father, then you will be happy that she has so much…” Taking a breath, Metzli’s nape bristled, uncertain whether or not they were choosing the right words. “Family. She deserves every love. All of it. We will not leave her, and it will be w-wrong to make us leave. Wrong. Wrong.”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

They felt the emotion begin to run their mind in circles, and before they could trip over it, Metzli wrung their fingers against themselves and counted softly to themself until the episode passed.

For a moment, it felt as though the world stood still. Cass was beyond hoping that her father would have a positive reaction to something like this. Maybe months ago, in the very beginning of their companionship, she would have longed for it. She would have imagined a world in which he cracked the smile that, until now, had existed for her and her alone, would have crafted a universe where he invited her friends to stay for dinner and listened to stories of Cass as she had been before he knew her. But naivety wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever been able to afford, and she knew better than to hope for the impossible. The world stood still, not in anticipation of something decent springing it back into action, but to ask the question of just how bad things would be.

Van was insisting that they were here to see her, not leaving as she’d suggested. Ariadne was saying, again, that she missed her, and Cass ached with the words. Metzli was standing in front of a man they knew wanted to see them turned to dust with their fists clenched and their jaw set. Makaio glared at the lot of them, fire burning behind his eyes. And Cass loved them all. She loved Van’s stubbornness and Ariadne’s bravery, loved Metzli’s careful words, but she loved Makaio, too. She loved his protectiveness, loved the way he said her name like it was a precious thing. And she wondered if she was supposed to.

Her friends looked at him like he was a monster, and Cass loved him. She loved him even now, with her hands trembling and fear crawling up her throat. Could you be terrified of someone and love them still? Could you adore a person and still have nightmares about the things they were capable of?

Makaio turned to look at her, and she shrank beneath his gaze. She felt smaller than she’d ever felt before, felt like an insect at the foot of a giant. “I told you,” he said coldly, “that they didn’t respect you enough to understand your decision to be apart from them. I told you this.”

“It’s not — It isn’t like that,” she insisted, unable to meet his eye. “They’re just worried. And I was — I was going to tell them to go. Before you got here, that’s what I was doing. They just — They don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “They don’t.” For a moment, she thought that might be the end. She thought, maybe, he would let her handle it. But Makaio sucked a breath, and Cass stilled. She knew, in a way, what he would say before he said it. Loving someone meant being able to predict what they might do next, after all. “So it’s time that you make them. You say you want us to be equals, Cassidy. This is how you can achieve it. Get rid of them, and you and I can carry on in peace. It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you, keiki. Kill them, and it can be just the two of us. The way it was meant to be from the beginning.”

—

Van could understand to a degree where Cass was coming from. The idea of having somebody that loved you enough to stick around was something that drew her forward, too. But this was not right. The way that Makaio looked at the three of them, and then at Cass… there was something deeply sinister about it, and it made her stomach twist. She listened to Ariadne trip over her words, but the strength was still there. Metzli’s steeled voice sounded authoritative, and it had hope blooming through her.

Cass, however, seemed frightened. She was being split in multiple directions. Between their begging words and the stern look from Makaio, she knew what kind of weight must be pressed onto her right now, and Van felt bad that she was making it worse. That there might be repercussions once they did leave. But if she, Metzli, and Ariadne had it their way, the repercussions would come later, after they managed to get Cass out of the cave and talk some sense into her away from Makaio.

Defiant words crawled up and over Van’s tongue, pressed against the back of her teeth as she clenched her jaw. This was gaslighting 101, right? Like, how could Cass not see that? But she knew it wasn’t fair to impart that thinking on her friend, especially given the fact that when on the side of things where you thought this was love, it was hard to see it wasn’t. Maybe Makaio did love Cass, but not in the way that she deserved. Not in the way that everyone else in Wicked’s Rest did.

Their prior conversation rattled around in Van’s head like a bell calling the livestock home, but home looked different now that she was in front of Makaio who was telling Cass that her friends didn’t understand, and that–

“Whoa, whoaaaa–” That had to be what turned Cass over, right? Van’s gaze slipped over Makaio, then back to Cass, her hand still locked around her friend’s wrist. If Cass really wanted her to let go, she could pull back. Van wouldn’t stop her. “Are you serious– Cass, are you listening to him?” A nervous sweat licked at the back of her neck, and her throat suddenly grew dry. “Cass,” Van tugged on her hand, begging her to take a step away from Makaio. “She’s our friend! Why are you doing– why are you asking her to do this? She would never do that, not to us. She wouldn’t.” For once in Van’s life, there were no tears. Her magic was absent, held back by the ring wound around her finger. She could feel it bubble, but there was no spilling.

—

It wasn’t that Ariadne wasn’t happy for Cass to have family in town. Ariadne knew that she was lucky to have the parents she had. Ridiculously lucky, and shouldn’t she want that for her best friend too? She did want it, but with everything that had happened recently, she wasn’t sure just how much joy she could feel. She didn’t like how Cass’s dad was looking at them. It kept making her feel small, feel like she could just shrink into herself.

Her friend’s voice wavered and it made Ariadne feel sick. Cass was so often giddy and excitable and sure-footed. There was no judgment about her not being this way all of the time – and there never would be – but it was so much unlike the Cass that Ariadne knew that she had to do a double take. She didn’t want Cass to be afraid. She wanted to devour every hint of possible fear that her friend could have, keep them away from her. To never let her be hurt, not even one bit.

– so why couldn’t she move? She took another step toward Cass, on the opposite side from where Van was. Trying to keep her friend safe, as best as she was able. Which might have not been so very much, but something was better than nothing. Looking for any free space, she hooked her pinkie finger around Cass’s. Treasured the warmth from her friend.

Even if her dad did care about her, why would he want her friends to go away? Ariadne’s parents had practically literally jumped for joy when she’d admitted to finally having a few real friends. They’d wanted to meet them, for her to have them around for as long as it was possible. So it didn’t add up that Cass’s dad seemed to want them to go away.

Then he was saying to kill them and Ariadne shook her head right away. “Hey, uh, no. No thanks – there’s, uh, there’s no reason to do that! You know?” She was squeaking again, and she was maybe weak, but she could be better than that. She could be anything but weak. “Cass?” She echoed Van’s words. “Hey, Cass. I love you. Come on, you can – you don’t want to hurt us.” Didn’t say kill, because she couldn’t get the words out. “She won’t hurt us.” She narrowed her eyebrows, the hand whose pinkie was not around Cass’s clenched into a fist. “She’s not that sort of – friend.” Person, she almost said, but maybe Cass’s dad wouldn’t like that. Maybe Cass wouldn’t like that. Friend, however, was indisputable. “We can all hang out. We all love Cass so much.”

—

There was a sensation coursing through the vampire that they hadn’t felt since Chuy broke the news of his string of betrayals. It was an anger that had gone long past a simmer and a boil. Silently and with a bit of hyperventilation, Metzli wondered if that was what it felt like for Cass. The heat of her own body mixing with the anger. Her devil was dancing with her father’s demon, and the fiddler’s tune was only just beginning. Each pizzicato from the bow sent another rippling burn in Metzli’s belly, and before they could stop themself from speaking without thinking, they snapped.

“You make her work to be equal?” Parents weren’t supposed to do things like that. Being alive, just existing was supposed to be enough. Every moment was precious, and Cass had such little self worth from her life of abandonment that she couldn’t tell what her father was doing. “You make her do things for you so you can love her? How…how dare you?” The words came out in a growl, acid dripping from their tone. Looking up, Metzli’s eyes were already red and their fangs were sharp. They had to unbury Cass’s eyes to the truth, expose the man’s secrets to the glare and reflect it out like a grotesque carnival mirror.

“What-what is wrong with you?!” Their voice shook, but their spine was made of steel. Taking a step toward the two fae and van, Metzli swallowed, shaking with an anger akin to a volcano ready to erupt. With every plea that came from Van and Ariadne, the tremors grew, and when the man spoke of what was meant to be, Metzli vehemently shook their head.

“If she does not want to kill us, you will be a bad father if you make her. What kind of father does not want their child to be loved? Why does this family threaten you?!” They took another step forward, staring daggers into the bigger fae with their lungs filled with a mixture of courage and anger. “You are not good father. A good daughter like mijita deserves a good father.” Metzli’s fist was balled tightly while they kept the last shred of composure they had. “Be one. Be better. Maybe I leave one time, but I choose better and listen to Cass. Listen to what she wants!”

Makaio’s eyes slid to Van and Ariadne, and Cass was fairly unfamiliar with the feeling of being cold — volcanoes seldom froze, after all — but a chill ran through her all the same. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words were caught in her throat. She could feel them stick to the inside of her mouth, feel them cling to her tongue and refuse to leave it. The world seemed to be closing in on her, two universes colliding in a way she’d always imagined would be joyous but was anything but.

“She’s killed for me before,” Makaio said, and Cass flinched. “More than once now. It’s asking very little for her to do it again. Things like you die so easily.”

They’re not things, she wanted to say. They’re my friends. I love them, just like I love you. Why can’t I have both? I want to have both. Please. Was it a selfish thing to want? She’d spent all her life longing for one family, and now she was throwing a fit over her inability to have two. Would she spend every waking moment wanting more? She wondered, with a sharp pain in her chest, if it would ever be enough. If her father had wanted to merge with the family she’d found in Wicked’s Rest, would Cass be happy? Or would she still long to add to it, still want in the way she always had? Maybe nothing would ever be enough for her. The thought was a stifling one, a thing that ached.

People were taught not to want, weren’t they? People were taught to be happy with what they had. Maybe Cass’s life would have been easier had she ever learned that lesson. But she didn’t. She wanted, even now. She wanted this moment to be different, to be better. Ariadne was scared, Van was confused, Metzli was angry, Makaio was close to eruption. Cass closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, taking a moment to steel herself.

He wasn’t expecting her to pull her wrist from his grip. She’d never done it before. So when she yanked, her hand came free fairly easily, and Makaio’s expression shifted to one of surprise. Cass planted herself firmly between her father and her friends, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. “Stop it,” she demanded. “I’m not — I’m not going to hurt them. They’re my friends. I’m sorry I’m not what I wanted you to be. I’m not — not what anyone wanted me to be. I know that. But I’m not going to hurt my friends.”

The surprise was still present on Makaio’s face. It rippled, a rockslide that shifted his features from shock into rage with a quiet rumble. His hands, now free without her wrist in his grip, clenched into fists at his side. Cass had seen her father angry, but never at her. In spite of everything, it hurt. She chewed her lip, standing firm despite her nerves.

“Stupid girl,” he said lowly. She flinched as if it were a physical blow. “I thought, with time, you could be shaped into something worthy. Perhaps it isn’t too late. If you won’t do what needs to be done here, I will. Let the slowness of their deaths be a lesson to you.”

He took a step forward; around them, the cave rumbled.

—-

Ariadne echoed her sentiments about not wanting to be killed, and Metzli conveyed the anger that stirred inside of her, displaying it for both Cass and Makaio to see. Van stayed still– silent in her disbelief that somebody could request this of somebody they claimed to love. The idea that Cass had killed for him before didn’t bother her, not in the way she thought it might at the confirmation. Instead, she thought of Debbie. Of the branding she and the others shared on their stomachs after being slashed with what Van knew now to be iron. She considered telling him, but what did it matter if she did?

Instead, she made eye contact with Cass. She hoped that her expression conveyed a certain neutrality, but the kind that was loudly on Cass’s side. Even if Cass had killed before, it was clear that it wasn’t in the vein of cruelty, but in something else– the hope for a connection, maybe. It was clear that Makaio had made their relationship all about what she could do for him, not what they could be together. Van hated him in place of Cass. Hated him enough to envision him dead, crushed beneath the weight of his choices. But now wasn’t the time. Her magic was stagnant, a boat out to sea with no power to move forward.

She listened to the way Cass fought back, insistence laced with longing. Van couldn’t completely understand the way that Cass felt, but she knew what it was like to love somebody who had the wrong idea. Would Jade ask her to kill a friend for the sake of her duty? Was it wrong to impart that idea onto her? Her chest tightened as Makaio began to speak, calling Cass stupid of all things.

Cass was the opposite. She was kind, compassionate– loving, fierce, loyal. She was everything Van had hoped for in a friend, so when Makaio began to shake the walls of the cave around them, Van enveloped herself in the love she had for her friend and she stepped forward, grabbing onto Cass’s arm. “She’s better than you’ll ever be, and she’s– she’s everything, and if you don’t see that, then you’re…” Van shook her head, fear beginning to worm its way through the adrenaline as the walls around them continued to rumble, “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a father. You’re somebody who wanted something, and Cass is more than anything you could’ve hoped or dreamed for, and–” She held onto Cass’s arm tightly, partially forgetting that the other two were there as well, “she’s killed for me, too– protected me, and that’s what it should be about, love and protection, and maybe she did that for you, but I did that for her, too, and I helped her, and we share something, and I don’t think you’ll ever share it with her because you don’t know her and you never will.” The words came tumbling out laced with something that was hard to identify. She turned to Cass, “we can leave, we can go– he can’t hurt you when you have us.”

—-

Cass was one of the bravest people she knew, full stop. It was something Ariadne had believed forever, and right now was only further proof of that. She just wished that her friend didn’t have to be so brave. She deserved a break from things, and she deserved to have support from people closest to her. From her father, of all people.

“I don’t care if she’s killed. She’s still my best friend!” Ariadne shout-squeaked, wishing she had the ability to seem just a bit more frightening in this moment. She’d never really wished to be scary, but if it could get Cass’s father to back off, she’d wish for it a thousand times over. Wish for it until she couldn’t wish any more.

Van looked over to Cass and Ariadne did too. “She’s my best friend for-ever and always, and I love her no matter what.” That much was true. Her stomach turned as she thought back to the hunter who’d almost killed them both, and how that seemed to be when Cass had stopped talking to her in the same way. Ariadne should’ve followed after her. She knew that. She should’ve reassured her – or maybe not even stopped her. Even though she didn’t like the idea of that, and she didn’t know if she could go back and let Cass kill someone (even though maybe they did deserve to die, if they tried to kill her. Maybe, maybe.). What she did know was that she wished she’d never let go of her friend’s hand, literally or metaphorically.

Cass spoke, but her words wavered and Ariadne’s heart hurt. She shouldn’t be feeling that way. She was a volcano. She was bright and powerful and sometimes pretty loud and excitable and it felt wrong to see her looking small. It felt even worse when her father called her stupid. That wasn’t what parents were supposed to do. Van seemed to think along the same lines, and Metzli would too, Ariadne knew. They’d talked about protecting family. Cass was family.

You didn’t let go of family. Cass was family. She moved closer to Cass. “She’s not stupid. She’s one of the most brilliantest,” okay, not her finest word choice, “amazing people I know. She’s anything but stupid. She’s clever and caring and so so smart.” The cave’s walls were rumbling, but Ariadne didn’t move. “We’ll keep you safe.” She echoed Van again. “We’ll keep you safe and I’ll make sure he never hurts you. Make sure you’re happy.” It was all she wanted. She wanted to wrap Cass up in her arms and protect her, to tell her what familial love should feel like. Her parents could adopt a grown up, right? She could give Cass a family who wouldn’t force her to do what she didn’t want to do, right? “I love you. I love you forever.”

—-

“You do not scare me with your threats.” Metzli growled, unwavering in their place as Cass’s father attempted to strike fear in them by weaponizing the truth. Cass had killed someone, but that didn’t shape her into anything different in the vampire’s eyes. They were more worried for her mental well-being, knowing the guilt that riddled her heart for smaller things than murder. Taking a life was never easy, even when it was right, and Metzli wasn’t going to let a strange man perpetuate an idea he had no ground to uphold.

“Cass, it is okay. I still love you. It does not scare me that you have killed. I have too. It is scary and heavy when it is new, but we can be okay again. Come with us,” Metzli breathed shakily, eyes glistening with hope when she talked back to her father. “I love you, okay? You are not stupid.”

Family loved, unconditionally, and Cass dreamt of having her father fill his role the way he was supposed to. She fell prey to her own wishes, making excuses and rearranging the image of a family in hopes of the pieces fitting together seamlessly. You couldn’t force them to fit, and despite the pain, Metzli could see that Cass was beginning to accept that, in her own way. Even if she was still telling herself she was the cause of the puzzle not being cut correctly. They could work on that later, help her see that she was always perfect the way she was. When her father was out of the way and they were all safe, Metzli and Van and Ariadne would help her, and others too.

It looked like it was time to leave, anyway. Cass’s father was throwing a tantrum violent enough to shake the cave, endangering everyone who wasn’t stone. They had to act quickly.

“Come with us, mijita.” Rubble began to bounce off Metzli’s shoulder, and they looked up to see the integrity of the cave diminishing. They stepped closer to be a shield, watching Van pull Cass toward the group. She came to her senses, so she was going to leave with them. She had to. Right?

“We will take care of you. Come with us.”

She was wavering. She knew her father could feel it, knew he saw the way her body language screamed of her uncertainty. Where she’d previously leaned towards her father, she leaned back towards her friends now, making no move to shrug their hands off of her or step away from their comforting words. Makaio’s eyes flickered between them, glowing faintly with his rage as he scoffed.

“They rally behind you because they know you don’t want them,” he told her bluntly. “They’ll leave the moment you’re more accessible to them. They’ll walk away freely, as everyone always has. Who has stayed with you, Cassidy? Who besides me?”

Cass swallowed. Those old fears were swirling in her gut, reminding her of all the times she’d felt alone. But — but Van’s hand was on her shoulder and Ariadne’s words echoed in her ear and Metzli stood beside her the way she’d always imagined a parent would, in a way that spoke of the pair of them as equals. Makaio had never done any of this for her.

“They love me,” she said quietly. “They love me, too. Why can’t — Why can’t you be okay with that? They love me, like you do. They —”

“How could anyone love you?” Makaio snapped, and Cass’s mouth shut with such force that her teeth gnashed together painfully. “You are a disappointment. You are a failure. I thought you could be made useful, thought something good could come from you, but I was wrong. I spent months playing pretend for a sad little girl, and now I see it was for nothing. If I can’t make use of you, Cassidy, I’ll be sure you pay for wasting my time.”

It was jarring, this shift. For months, she’d been so sure that, if nothing else, her father loved her. Whatever else he was, he was still her father. He still cared for her, still wanted what was best for her. That thought had driven her all the while, had inspired her to push everyone else away and to defend him to the bitterest of ends. And now, standing here with the cave rumbling around her, she realized it was a lie. Makaio wasn’t someone who loved her. The people who loved her were the ones standing behind her now.

Cass turned back towards her friends, her heart in her throat. They wanted her to go with them. She wanted to go with them. But…

“I won’t leave you. I promise, I won’t.” Her words, the ones she’d spoken to him months ago, echoed in her mind now. She glanced towards him, saw it in his eyes. He remembered, too. He was probably tugging the bind now, causing that anchored feeling in her chest. There was only one way for her to go with her friends, only one way for her to leave.

Her father had to die.

In spite of everything, the thought made her stomach twist in violent discomfort. He didn’t love her, and maybe he never had, but Cass loved him. Even now, even standing in this trembling cave. She loved him, and she wanted to go, and the only way for her to do that was to force the bind to shatter.

The cave rumbled violently, the two oreads’ control warring with each other. Rocks fell on Metzli’s head, and they were small enough not to do any real damage, but a few feet away a much larger chunk of cave ceiling came loose and shattered against the ground. She glanced back to her father, and he was stepping forward. He burned dimly — never as bright as Cass herself, which might have been why he’d sought her out the way he had — but it was a dangerous glow all the same. A hand snaked out, trying to grab Van behind her, and Cass shoved him back.

“You think you can protect them?” Makaio sneered. “They’re going to die here, Cassidy. And when they’re gone, you’ll have only yourself to blame. And only me to fall back on.”

Cass whirled around, panic in her eyes as she faced her friends. “Go!” She yelled over the sound of the rumbling cave. “Go outside! I — I’ll meet you up there, I promise! But you need to go, now!”

—

Both Ariadne and Metzli continued to echo her own sentiments. If it were just her and Cass alone with Makaio, would they have gotten this far? Would Van so clearly be able to see the shift in her friend’s demeanor? The stark realization that she’d been manipulated? It wasn’t Cass’s fault, and Van didn’t blame her. Despite the hurt she felt due to the growing distance between herself and her friend, Van wasn’t angry at anyone other than Makaio. This was his fault. He preyed on the fact that Cass wanted nothing other than to be loved and he twisted it like a knife until it was too late to pull back without any blood loss.

But now, Cass was hemorrhaging. They all were.

Small rocks from above began to rain down, hitting the ground with enough force to make snapping noises. Van’s anxiety had begun to show its head in the way that iron coated her tongue, slipping down through her throat. She pushed it away. There was no room to be afraid, especially when Cass needed her. What good would it do, anyway?

Makaio’s words lit a fire beneath Van and she clenched her jaw, her magic still stagnant, but glaringly obvious now that she’d become more aware of it. It was there, and she would allow it to help if needed. She would trust her magic to protect them all if it came to that, but she knew she also needed to trust Cass, too. Van had learned that fae could not lie, not without some level of discomfort, and so the vitriol that Makaio spewed told her that he believed she was nothing. “Cass is the greatest thing to ever happen to you, the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and the fact that–” She looked towards Cass, recalling the night with Debbie– of their blood spilled, of dumping her into the pit, of everything else. The late night talks, the sweets shared between them, the jokes, the reassurances. How it had all come to an end because of him.

Makaio reached out for her and Cass put herself in between them. Van’s hand was still on her shoulder, grip loosening only due to the constant rock fall. The sound of the cave groaning made her skin crawl. This would likely be all of their ends if they didn’t leave, but Van couldn’t leave without Cass. “Not unless you come with us– you can’t– we can’t leave you, Cass.” Her grip tightened almost instantaneously, a hopeful thing laced with an edge that reached her tone as she dared Makaio to challenge the three of them. “Please, come with us. Don’t stay here. Just leave. Please!” Worry spun circles around her as her vision became hazy from the dust as it bloomed around them, larger chunks of rocks beginning to fall at their feet. She could see the look in Cass’s eye– had seen it a dozen times. There was a promise there, and she knew it to be binding, but what if she didn’t make it? Van enveloped Cass into a tight hug from behind, attempting to drag her backwards. “Come on, help me!” It was said to the other two behind her as she tried to bring Cass towards safety.

—

Her best friend’s father wasn’t really much like a father at all. Fathers weren’t supposed to act like this, to do things that made their children scared or uneasy or even significantly uncertain. Ariadne knew that she’d won when it came to parents, but she also knew that right now, Cass’s dad wasn’t meeting even the bare minimum requirement. Cass deserved so much more. Van and Metzli were echoing the same sentiment, and she knew that Nora and Wynne would think the same. Cass had so many people on her side, Ariadne just wished she could make sure that she knew that. Because Cass doubted the love people had for her, and she’d been given love, but the love she’d been given hadn’t been real, and yet she’d been convinced that it was.

And now she was realizing just how much it wasn’t and Ariadne wanted to take away every bit of sorrow and fear that Cass must have been experiencing now. She was grateful that she wasn’t alone with Cass and her father, but in the same thought, there was a certain part of her that wished it was just the three of them. Because then maybe, somehow, she could deal with this. She could prove to Cass that she could be strong, that she could do anything for her friend. For her forever friend. Or at least as close to forever as she was going to get. Hundreds and hundreds of years sounded pretty neat.

“Cass is the best thing in the world. I didn’t know anything really about friends – best friends – until I met her.” Ariadne didn’t look right at Van, mostly because she didn’t want to hurt her other friend. She and Van had been friends, but Van had been closer with Chance, and the two of them had grown apart until just over a year ago. Besides right now was all about Cass, and Ariadne was intent on keeping it that way.

The cave made a sound that was unsettling. One it had never made when it was just Cass around. Because Cass loved the cave, and the cave loved her, and things were balanced, then. With her father around, things were darker and cloudy and Ariadne opened her mouth to speak as Cass stood between them and her father. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t die, that she was already dead, that it didn’t matter, so long as Cass lived. Not in any form of a ‘want to die again’ way, but Cass mattered more than anything right now. She grabbed Van, reached out to touch Cass’s arms, to pull her as tightly as she could. “Just come now. Please, Cass. Please.” She had to listen, didn’t she? “You’re still my favorite superhero. My favorite friend. I – Cass, please.”

—

The structures around them all groaned and cracked, but nothing sounded louder than the way Cass urged them to leave. Van and Ariadne protested, and Metzli kept their hand out for just a little longer until a larger piece of stone crashed into their shoulder. Their arm went numb momentarily from the sudden impact, and it suddenly became very clear that they might have to do as Cass says instead of convincing her to join them.

She was promising, becoming an anchor to two tethers in separate directions, if the look in her father’s eye was any indication. It looked a lot like the look in both Eloy and Chuy’s eyes when an opportunity to exploit a weakness presented itself. The smug smile on his face was taunting and arrogant, making a pit in Metzli’s stomach as they pondered on the possibilities. He had something to use against Cass, but they just didn’t know what and time wasn’t on their side to figure it out.

“Van. Ariadne.” They swallowed, placing a hand on the young mare’s shoulder, but it fell quickly when another rock landed on them. With a hiss, Metzli tried again and tugged her gently toward them. They didn’t want to force them to follow, but if Cass was promising she’d meet them outside as the cave around them collapsed, Metzli didn’t really have an argument. No matter how badly that they wished they did, unsure if an oread could prevent themself from being crushed by their own nature. They loved her, so they had to listen.

With a little reluctance, the vampire tugged again, ignoring the way panic marched up and down their skin. “We have to trust her.” Metzli’s voice shook, but they did their best to not waver as more and more rubble began to surround them. “We have to go. She is promising!”

She couldn’t concentrate. It was taking all she had to keep herself together, to keep her father from getting too close to her friends, to make sure he didn’t hurt them. She knew she needed to take a more offensive stance, needed to fight him off directly, but with Van’s arms around her and Ariadne trying to help their friend pull her from the cave, Cass couldn’t focus on any of that. With the rocks falling around them, she couldn’t focus on any thought beyond the desire for her friends to be safe, for them to get out and get free. She could deal with Makaio, she knew she could. She recognized now that her strength had always surpassed his, that he hadn’t offered to help her destroy tourist sites or hurt hunters not because he wanted her to learn, but because he wasn’t sure he could. Cass was the stronger oread. She knew that now.

She just needed to prove it.

Maybe there was something selfish in the desire for her friends to leave the cave. She wanted them safe, of course she wanted them safe. But, at the same time… she didn’t want them to see what she was going to have to do here. She loved them all, and she knew now that they loved her, too, that they always had, but some dark voice in her mind still whispered that if they saw her cross a line — if they saw her do what needed to be done to separate her from her father — that love would falter. They would look at her differently, they would flinch away. Cass didn’t think she could handle it, not after everything. She wanted them to be safe. That was the main drive behind the insistence that they go. But it wasn’t the only one.

Makaio took another step, his face twisted into something terrible. For months now, Cass had thought the rocky features of his expression an immovable thing. His face was like that of one of the sprawling cliffs near the Magmacave — constant and smooth. Seeing it now, she realized she’d been wrong. Rage was capable of causing an earthquake that could shift that cliff into a crater, could make it into a terrifying thing. She thought of the Allgood pit, with the steep edges and the stench of death. Her father was much the same.

Pulling her arms free from Van’s grip, she moved to shove her father back, a resulting crash echoing through the cave as stone met stone. Her expression was one of desperation as she looked to her friends, locking eyes with Metzli. Of all of them, she thought, Metzli understood the most. Hadn’t she helped them take out Chuy in that crypt, when they were still mostly under his control? Hadn’t they said nothing when she’d let her magma seep into his skin? Her expression turned to one of pleading as the vampire called out.

“I promise!” She repeated desperately. She looked at Metzli, begging with her eyes. “Metzli, I can’t — I can’t do this with all of you here. I can’t keep them safe. Please. Please help me keep them safe.”

—

Van could barely hear Metzli or Ariadne over the sound of the cave splitting at the seams. Its groaning was a mournful thing– the acknowledgment of what was to come if they all left this place without Cass. Van’s fears were becoming a reality; that she would lose Cass forever. She tried her best to keep her arms around her friend, dodging the litter from above them by burying her face into Cass’s shoulder. She committed the feeling of Cass’s frame to memory, because it was the only thing that eased her into pulling away.

That, and Metzli’s arm snaking around her waist. Van let out a yelp as she was torn away from Cass. “Please, please– we have to take her with us!” She knew the ending of this story. She knew Cass may never come back from beneath the rubble, and who would she be if she left without acknowledging that? “Cass, please!” She shouted again, struggling against Metzli’s grip, but it was no use, they were far too strong for her to remove herself from. She tried to twist the ring from around her finger, to let the explosion of magic take them all down– to at least sacrifice herself in favor of the others, but Cass was becoming harder to discern from the dust and rubble.

Ariadne hadn’t followed them out, and thus another wave of panic washed over Van as she tried to peel herself away from Metzli. She gulped in the fresh air as soon as they broke free from the cave, and just as she managed to wiggle free, she watched as a large chunk of the cave came crashing down into the entrance, sealing them off from those left inside. “Ariadne is still in there! Cass!” Van threw herself at the rubble and immediately began trying to clear it away. “Cass! Ariadne!” She screamed as she scooped away the debris. The larger chunks were unmoving, and so she turned towards Metzli. “Help me,” Van pleaded.

There was a look in Cass’s eyes that Metzli had seen only months ago. Suddenly, the fiddler’s tune began to ravage the strings with fervor, and the devil began its dance, though to the blind eye, one would only see Cass’s father. She needed to join in, and everyone else needed to let her, trust that she could out-tempo his tune. They just needed to get the others safe, but they only had one arm.

For a few beats, the vampire looked around, trying to figure out a way to get both of Cass’s friends out in their arm. Then it clicked. Ariadne would be fine.

“I love you.” They said shakily, “I am proud of you.” Squeezing their eyes shut, Metzli nodded their head and tears rolled down their cheeks. They wanted to stay and fight for the girl they saw as their own, but the world had other plans. It always did, and before Metzli knew it, they were dragging Van out of the cave, only looking back to see Cass disappear in the clouds of dust. “Ariadne will be okay. It is night time. We have to trust.”

When they made it out, they were welcomed with fresh air, still warm from the day. Metzli looked back to the mouth of the cave and finally set Van down, arm ready in case she tried to run back in. “We will wait.” Their voice was shaky yet firm in its command. “Too dangerous to be inside with flesh.” Taking a breath, Metzli added, “I want to stay inside too, but no one ever listen to Cass when she was child. Loving is listening. I am sorry.”

Cass was telling them all to leave and Ariadne was five again, refusing to leave the ice cream store. Except this was much more important than that. This was about her best friend. Her best friend who was desperate and afraid and it made Ariadne shake with anxiety, because Cass wasn’t listening and her stubbornness was one of Aria’s favorite things about her, but right now she just wished that her best friend would listen. Except she wasn’t, and now Metzli was dragging Van out and Ariadne ducked out of the way.

She’d help Cass. She’d get her out. Everything was dusty, and it was becoming harder to see. She was grateful that she didn’t have to breathe. Except Cass did. But maybe because she was part rock and volcano and maybe that meant that it would be okay for her?

“I’m not leaving, Cass!” She screamed as loud as she could manage. Doing something that made her lungs hurt like she’d run for too long in the cold. “I’m not. Not until you leave. We’re best friends, and I love you, and come on, please!” She ran forward, grabbing onto Cass’s arm. “Collapse it or whatever you’ve gotta do and then hold my hand and we’ll run and you can — it’ll be okay, right? Please.” She wasn’t going to cry. Ariadne was going to be brave, for her and Cass’s sake. And also for Van and Metzli who were outside, and safe – because they had to be, because she could only worry about so much right now.

“I’m staying and then we’re going together.”

—

Metzli pulled Van out, and Cass hoped they understood the flood of gratefulness that flowed from deep within her chest even if there was too much chaos to properly voice it. With two less people to worry about in the cave, the oread could focus more of her attention on holding her father at bay and a little less on where the stones were falling around her. Van and Metzli were safe; Makaio couldn’t use them against her so long as they were outside the cave, and Cass could focus more of herself on defeating him and joining them at the surface. Van and Metzli were safe.

But Ariadne wasn’t.

It struck her all at once, her friend’s voice echoing through the cave. Metzli couldn’t drag the pair of them out, not with only one arm, but she’d hoped Ariadne would go with them all the same. Instead, the mare was gripping her arm and begging her to leave, and Cass wanted to shout her frustrations into the collapsing structure around them. I can’t, she wanted to yell. You don’t understand. I can’t leave him, I promised. But saying it aloud felt like saying too much, and there was always a risk that Aria wouldn’t understand the weight of it, anyway. She’d explained promise binds to her friend, but wasn’t it the kind of thing that was impossible to understand from the outside?

She couldn’t leave her father, and she couldn’t do what she needed to do with Ariadne watching. She wanted — She wanted an after, a place where all of them could exist unchanged. She wanted a world where her friends wouldn’t see her differently, a place where she could exist outside of this moment. It was already a slippery concept to hold, already like trying to grip a stream of water between her fingers. But if Ariadne stayed, if she bore witness to what Cass knew needed to be done here —

Even if she got out physically unscathed, the bond between them wouldn’t be the same. Cass knew it as surely as she knew her name, as surely as she knew what she had to do here to free herself from her father. She needed Aria to go. She needed the cave empty for this next part, needed it to be only herself and her father the way it had been for months now, even if she needed it for different reasons than she had then.

She set her jaw in a stubborn line, stomach churning with the knowledge of what she had to do next. There was only one way to get Ariadne to leave the cave quickly, only one way to contain the damage. “You thanked me,” she breathed, the sound of her voice rumbling along with the cave. “Back — months ago. You thanked me and I didn’t — I never cashed it in. I’m cashing it in now. Go outside, Ariadne. Get out of here. Now.” She made the bind with practiced ease, even if doing so made her feel a little sick. This was what needed to be done for all of them. Cass knew that.

—

Cass seemed mad. Which didn’t make sense – she couldn’t actually be mad, could she? She was stressed and maybe Ariadne had overdone it with the staying, but she couldn’t help herself. She also couldn’t not stay. That wasn’t an option. Friends didn’t let friends stay down in a cave that was falling apart alone, or something. Some modified version of the actual phrasing.

You thanked me.

Ariadne’s stomach turned and she wanted to refute that fact, but it wasn’t really possible to, because Cass couldn’t lie and Ariadne was sure she’d messed up more than once with her expressions of gratitude, even though Cass had told her not to do that. But she was forgetful and she loved her friend so much, so messing up was something she was bound to have done.

She just wished Cass wasn’t so keen to use it. Cass hadn’t really ever cashed in on thanks or promises before, and Ariadne didn’t like the implications of what Cass was doing right now. “I – no!” She shook her head. Except, of course, that did nothing. It was nighttime, and with her friend’s words, she found herself suddenly outside, cursing herself that she actually was good at astral projection. That wasn’t how things should have worked, and she collapsed onto the ground, in front of Metzli and Van and shook her head.

“She – she made – I – she made me go. She’s still there!” Turning towards the entrance, Ariadne screamed again, “Cass!” Turned back to the other two. “I – she’s – I – why did she do that? She – I – Cass!”

Dust and rubble collected at the entrance of the cave, and Metzli watched in horror as it covered it completely. Their heart begged their legs to move, but they wouldn’t comply. Cass wanted them to trust her, believe that she could do the impossible when her father so clearly did not. Metzli gritted their teeth at the thought, keeping an eye on Van. “Please,” They whispered, watching and waiting. Their entire body continued to tense, and it wasn't until Ariadne appeared out of thin air that Metzli allowed themself to relax. Slightly.

“You are out!” The vampire blurted, still keeping an eye on Van as they embraced Ariadne tightly Leila surely would have somehow had a heart attack if anything happened to either of them, and it was a relief to Metzli that they would have no bad news to share once Cass was out. They swallowed, “She wanted us safe. We have to trust her. We have to. She is strong. Her father is not. He is a weak coward.” Squeezing a little harder, Metzli planted their cheek atop Ariadne’s head in a soothing manner, shifting their eyes back to the cave entrance in hopes of seeing Cass crash through soon.

Van was not gentle with the rocks she pulled from the small mound blocking her entrance to the cave. Instead, she threw them behind her. Some were too large to throw, so they rolled at her side. She could hear voices behind her– Ariadne’s, but she made no move to turn and see if her friend had escaped, because the question of Cass and why she’d forced Ariadne out had come to light.

She focused on the rocks, pulling each one back, hopeful to see Cass’s face on the other end. “Help me! We can– we can dig her out!” She knew that realistically, Cass would be able to get herself out, but what would happen if she didn’t? Would she think that her friends ran away? Cass had spent so much of her time worrying she wasn’t loved that Van needed to show her she was. “Please, help me.” Exasperated, Van could feel the sweat begin to bead at the back of her neck, and her eyes burned from both the tears and the salt. “We can get her– we can get her out! We have to try!”

Ariadne disappeared from the cave, into the astral and off to safety. Relief was a palpable thing, a pressure pushing down on her chest hard enough to force all the air from her lungs at once. Ariadne was safe. Van was safe. Metzli was safe. She hadn’t doomed them with her stubbornness, hadn’t been too late to save them from her downward spiral.

She hoped she wouldn’t be too late to save herself, either.

Rocks still fell from the ceiling, from the walls. The safe haven she’d built for herself felt anything but safe now, and she felt a piece of herself crumble with it. She thought of a story she’d read once, years ago, when the public library was her safe haven and she’d picked books off shelves with a desperation built from bricks of wanting to understand and be understood in return. It hadn’t been one of her favorites or anything, but it wasn’t a bad story.

It was about a chicken, because most children’s stories seemed to star animals in the place of people. He’d gone outside one morning and been so sure that the sky was falling. He’d run through town, warned everyone he saw with a desperate plea: the sky is falling, the sky is falling, the sky is falling. And everyone took shelter, everyone hid away in their homes trembling and afraid because the sky was falling, and no one knew what to do with that.

And then came morning, and the sky was still there. It hung above the Earth the same as it always had, and that silly chicken realized that the piece of the sky he’d been so sure had fallen on his head was a tiny acorn. It must have felt so much bigger in the moment, Cass thought. It must have felt like the world was ending.

It was the kind of thing she realized she could relate to now. All her life, the smallest acorns had convinced her that the world was at its end. The people she loved never loved her back the way she wanted them to, they left when she needed them to stay. Every time she stood staring at someone’s retreating back, she was that stupid chicken running through town, screaming for all to hear. The sky is falling, the sky is falling, the sky is falling. And the next morning, the sky was still there.

There was another fable, wasn’t there? About the boy who cried wolf. It taught that if you made enough false claims, no one would believe you when the claims were true. If you screamed about a wolf in the bushes over and over again, if you convinced the shepherds to come with their guns and their staffs only to find the bushes empty time and time again, they’d eventually stop coming at all. There would be no one left to save you from the wolf, no one left to keep it from devouring you.

For years now, Cass had felt as if every acorn that fell on her head was an apocalypse. The sky fell, but only for her. She warned everyone around her, and maybe it meant something the first few times. Maybe it scared them, too. But there had never really been a wolf hiding in the bushes and, sooner or later, the shepherds had stopped coming to save her.

So what was left for her, now that the sky really was falling? What would Chicken Little have done, had his piece of sky wound up being larger than an acorn?

Hands grabbed her, slamming her against the wall. The cave shook harder, her own fear crumbling the walls the same as her father’s anger. His eyes were glowing a faint orange as he glared at her, rocky face twisted into something rageful. Cass wondered if she looked the same. The thought that she might no longer felt like a comfort.

“Stupid girl,” Makaio snapped. He sounded different than he ever had before; it took Cass a moment to realize that he was afraid. “Do you understand what you’ve done? You ruined everything. For the both of us. Do you truly believe that those… insects you drove from this cave are capable of loving you? Of staying with you? I am the only one who could have done that. I am the only one who could have made you great.”

She thought of all the things she wanted to say, all the things she could tell him. She thought of Metzli, who took her to the zoo and asked her to help them name a baby giraffe. She thought of Van, who ordered takeout while she sat upside down on the couch and played Go Fish. She thought of Ariadne, who saw every movie Cass dragged her to even when she probably had no interest in them. And she thought of other people, too, of people not outside her cave waiting for her. She thought of Kaden, who let her call him her sidekick with only a faint roll of his eyes. She thought of Leila, who had always been willing to fight for her even when Cass wasn’t sure she was willing to fight for herself. She thought of Wynne, who asked for her opinion on things. She thought of Mack, who liked her even after she accidentally threw her down the stairs, or of Thea, who talked about comics with her even after Cass accidentally shaved her head. She thought of Elias and Nora and Regan and Jonas, of Alex and Ren and Luci and Milo.

She thought of all the people she loved and the ones who loved her back, and she couldn’t find the words to name them all to tell Makaio that he was wrong, but she knew he was, anyway. He held her against the wall, and she stared at him for a moment before her mouth fell open, words tumbling out: “Would you believe me if I said the sky was falling?” Makaio’s expression flickered — rage turned to confusion, but only briefly. Cass decided not to let it stop her. “Everyone believed Chicken Little. I never understood why. He said the sky was falling, and everyone believed him. Would you — Would you believe me?”

Makaio pulled her forward, went to slam her back into the wall again. Cass let her arms shoot out, let them land hot against his chest and shove him back with all her strength, magma surging forward. He grunted, stumbling back. She was stronger than he was; it was the only reason he’d ever wanted her around.

“Because I think… I think that’s what love is. You know? Believing someone when they say the sky is falling, even when it’s right outside the window. And they —” She gestured towards where the mouth of the cave had stood before. It was gone now, buried by rocks and rubble. “They would believe me. If I told them the sky was falling, they’d go into their houses and they’d lock the doors and they’d be afraid, but they’d believe me. I could tell them there was a wolf in the bushes a thousand times, and they’d still come to look.”

Makaio stared at her for a moment, but he made no move to step closer. His face was still twisted in that strange, unfamiliar expression that she now knew to be fear. It wasn’t the rocks he was afraid of anymore, she thought; it was her. She didn’t know if it felt good or not.

“I won’t release you from your promise,” he told her in a low, gravely tone. Cass closed her eyes, nodding her head.

“I know,” she admitted, barely a whisper. She opened her eyes, saw larger pieces of the cave falling now. A chunk came down to Makaio’s left, close enough to shake the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t move. Another landed just behind Cass, so close that she felt the sharp pain of it brushing against her spine. She didn’t move, either.

Rocks fell between them until she couldn’t see her father anymore. They fell beside her until she couldn’t see the walls of the cave, either. She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes.

The sky was falling.

—

Metzli held tightly onto Ariadne, careful not to crush her, but enough that it might've been uncomfortable. They didn't let go until the rumbling stopped, only a few smaller rocks tumbling down here and there from the disturbance. Silence surrounded the trio and it was as if an symphony had died, unable to swell into a crescendo and keep rhythm with the pace Metzli's heart would've set if it could leap.

“Please,” They whispered beneath their breath, as if some higher being above could hear their petition over the billions of others. Closing their eyes, they counted, over and over again, only opening their eyes when something in the wind changed. Their eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and relief at the sight of Cass outside the cave, and without another moment of hesitation, Metzli let go of Ariadne to run to her. They stopped short, restraining themself in case she needed a moment to not be overwhelmed.

“Y-you did it!” They grinned and blinked, squeezing their fist tightly shut to keep their excitement from bubbling over. “You-I…I am so proud.”

She fought against Metzli’s hold on her as the cave seemed to collapse into itself. She screamed as it did so, falling to the ground the moment that their grip on her loosened even just by a fraction of anything. Ariadne didn’t bother to look down and see if her knees were scraped, if glitter was on them, because she was fine and Cass was the only real priority now. The only priority, full stop.

Then she was outside of the cave and Ariadne ran toward her, with little regard for the concept of personal space. If Cass didn’t want a hug, she’d deal with apologies after. She needed to hug her best friend, she needed to pull her away from the falling rock and hold her and never ever let her go again.

Except as she went to grab Cass, she found that her best friend was intangible and Ariadne screamed again, completely collapsing on the group as she let out a loud sob. “She – she’s not – she’s not here! You – Cass!” She gulped for air, feeling suffocated even though she didn’t need to breathe. “Where are you? You’re there but you’re – where are you? Please – just come over here. Hold my hand. I’ll make sure things are okay.”

—

Pain was sudden and intense and everywhere. It was an all-consuming kind of thing, and Cass couldn’t bite back the scream that came on its heels but she didn’t think it mattered, anyway. The sound, ripped from her throat against her will, was lost to the deafening boom of falling rocks. The sound of stone hitting stone swallowed up everything else; she couldn’t hear her own thoughts bouncing in her head, couldn’t hear if her father was still trying to speak to her, couldn’t hear anything outside the cave at all. It was is if nothing existed except for her and the rocks falling around her; they were the same. They were a part of her just as much as she was a part of them.

It was overwhelming, how much it all was. The pain, swallowing her up with gnashing teeth and an acidic burn, knew every part of her. Her head, her shoulders, her legs, her stomach. There was nothing that didn’t hurt. Even the tips of her ears ached in a way she’d never known possible. Her eardrums, too, hurt with the noise of it. The rocks falling, her own hoarse yells, the rumbling and the pounding. Light was swallowed up, until only the faint glow of her own magmic veins remained. And then those, too, disappeared, falling beneath stone that cracked everything open with its weight. She thought of Atlas in the myths and wondered if his shoulders had hurt as much as hers did now.

It went on forever, somehow. The pain, the sound, the darkness. And then, abruptly, it all stopped. Nothing hurt anymore; silence surrounded her. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, but there was the barest hint of light visible from behind her lids. She opened them slowly, afraid of what she might find.

The sky was still there. Hanging above her head, just as blue and endless as it always was. She stared up at it for a moment, heart in her throat as she wondered if, once again, she’d built an apocalypse from an acorn. Something felt strange, felt wrong; she felt different in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

But then, a voice called out her name, and the worry and fear that came with that strangeness seemed to melt away. Metzli was running towards her, Ariadne was calling out. She’d saved them and, impossibly, she’d saved herself, too. Ariadne went to wrap her up in a hug, but she — she missed, somehow. Cass didn’t quite register it as strange, adrenaline making it difficult to focus as she scanned the surrounding area. Ariadne and Metzli were here, were in front of her, but she couldn’t fully relax until she saw —

“Van!” She stepped towards her friend, still crouched by the stones that had once been the cave’s entrance. She was out. Didn’t Van see? She’d promised to meet them outside the cave and, somehow, that fae magic had pulled her out to let her keep it. “Van! I’m here! It’s…” But Van didn’t look up. She was still at the rocks, still looking distraught as if Cass hadn’t spoken at all. “Van…?”

Dread built up in her stomach, gripped her by the throat. No…

—

Van only dared a look over her shoulder as Metzli spoke. Their gaze was trained on the nothingness in front of them, and then Ariadne followed suit. She twisted around, watching them, hopeful to see what they could. Cass was out? Cass was–

But Ariadne was stumbling forward, desperation whistling from her open mouth. Van couldn’t stand. She couldn’t move. She remembered what it was like watching Erin speak to somebody that wasn’t there. She remembered the absent feeling, of being on the outside of something that she couldn’t put together. It was uncomfortable, and it revealed everything that Van needed to know.

“No, no– no!” She turned back towards the rocks. The majority of what was left were too heavy for Van to lift, so she started to kneel against the ground, arms hugging them as she tried to wedge them from the spots they’d landed in. “Cass!” Van screamed, but not behind her towards the others– of where Cass was presumably at, but to where she’d been left in the wreckage of her father’s doing. “Cass, I’m– I’m going to get you, I’m going to figure it out, I’m going to– we have to–” She turned towards the others, eyes glossy. “We have to get her out of there. She’s not out. She’s not out.”

Van had lost, and she had lost again, and she would continue losing those she cared deeply about and she knew that she would. It would consume her, twist her insides until she couldn’t breathe, and then over time, she would heal. But at the moment, she wasn’t sure she’d ever heal from the loss of Cass. Of one of the truest friends she ever had. “The necklace,” Van choked out, turning back towards the rocks, “the necklace is in there, too.” But the notebook was there, on the ground a few feet behind her, dropped from when she beelined for the cave’s entrance. She scrambled towards it, still on hands and knees and gathered it to her chest. It was the last thing any of them had of her. She had to keep it safe.

“She’s– Cass?” Van knew from Erin that the others on this plane of existence could hear her– could see her in a way that she could not see them, and so she hoped Cass was listening. “I’m– I’m sorry.”

—

“N-no. No!” Metzli shook their head vehemently in disbelief, rejecting the sight of Ariadne passing through Cass. “We-I-I can fix this!” The march of ants became frenzied, each step accompanied with a fierce bite full of venom. It was overwhelming and Metzli feared it would eat away at the beautiful music that Cass had brought into their life. They met that silence with a sorrowful noise, choking on sobs as they leapt into action.

“I know first aid.” The vampire used their strength to toss aside the larger stones, urgently trying to make an opening. With each reach, their nails dug against the rubble, tearing off when Metzli’s movements became too erratic.

“Can-does-does my bite–Cass!” They pleaded, building an opening and trying to crawl inside only to find there were more rocks. “No!” Metzli's voice became a scream, the crunch of their knuckles slamming against the wall of stone joining in the noise. There was nothing but a crack left behind with a smear of black ooze, and Metzli quickly turned to Cass and ran back to her. It was no use to panic. Being a ghost couldn't have been easy to realize, and as someone who loved her, Metzli knew they had to set everything aside to provide a safe space for the one they called theirs.

“You should not be dead. You-you…Mija?” Parents weren't supposed to outlive their young, they weren't supposed to put them in a position that led to their death, so maybe, Metzli thought, they were just as bad as Makaio. They had outlived everyone in their bloodline, and now, they had outlived another.

“I…am sorry.” They sniffled, nearly hovering their damaged hand over Cass's cheek before thinking better of it. “You saved us. You-you…are hero. Our hero.”

Cass was her first real best friend. She’d had friends before but none were quite like Cass. Van couldn’t see her and Van was the only one of the three of them who Cass had forced outside of the cave who was alive, and that had to mean – no. She didn’t want to say it out loud Didn’t want to think it, either, but thoughts had minds of their own (which wasn’t like, physically possible but still, it seemed right, and somebody smart had probably said that before) and so Ariadne couldn’t stop her thoughts from racing – from going ghost ghost ghost.

Which meant Cass was dead and another sob escaped from Ariadne’s mouth, loud and eerie enough that she wasn’t sure if she even recognized it herself. “No!” She looked around, desperate, “Cass, please, please come back. I’ll do anything!” She shook her head, and she kept shaking her head, “we were supposed to be friends for hundreds of years!! Not just – not this short of a time.”

Cass couldn’t be dead. Her best friend, who was so full of life and light and fire (quite literally, as a matter of fact) couldn’t be gone. She’d touched Cass not even ten minutes ago, and now she couldn’t. It seemed impossible. “Please!” She scream again, and she felt like she was going to be sick and she couldn’t think and Cass was dead and she’d known Cass might die before her, but that wasn’t supposed to be a problem she had for like, almost a thousand years. Cass wasn’t supposed to be dead yet.

“There’s so many movies I wanna watch with you, and places we’ve gotta go! You need to take me to the best volcanoes – Cass! I love you. Je t’aime beaucoup, pour toujours.” I love you so much, for always. “You’re the bravest and best person I’ve ever known. You are my superhero. I love you. I love you so much. I’ll never stop.”

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

It felt different hearing it this time. She’s dead, they’re dead, he’s dead– they’re all dead. We killed her, it killed him, the fire killed them and others– how many different ways could something be said that made her feel this lost? Suspended in something she couldn’t quite identify. Her muscles felt like jelly as she watched Ariadne plead with the space in front of her. She forced herself to memorize the way Cass felt beneath her arms just moments ago, of how she smelt of ember and pine. Metzli called Cass her their hero and the word echoed, morphing itself into the word dead and can’t. Heroes can’t die. Hadn’t that been what her father had told her time and time again as he lifted his dvd’s up for her to see, X-Men on the cover?

But that wasn’t true, right? Heroes died all the time. Cass was dead. Behind the rocks, submerged in them– probably an unrecognizable thing. Was it cruel to imagine her in that way? Van imagined her father, Makaio in that way– of his eyes opened and unseeing, of blood trickling from his mouth. Something akin to relief rose in her. It made her feel sick, too.

Ariadne continued to plead with the ghost of her friend she could no longer see, and Van was left on the ground with the notebook pressed to her chest. Her mouth felt dry. “Have to tell– have to tell Thea, tell Nora.” She needed to tell others before she could completely fall apart. How would she be able to get in contact with Ren? Would Ren care? Her mind raced as she stared at the ground, memorizing the way the rocks she’d managed to carve away from the entrance had gathered at her feet.

“She’s dead,” Van croaked. It was a confirmation for nobody but herself, because she already knew that. She already knew that Cass was dead and she wouldn’t be coming back. She knew that life would be forever changed. Whatever was in the notebook she held would be her final goodbyes, and that in itself made Van bite the hand of grief, drawing its blood until there was nothing left but skin and sinew. She couldn’t fall apart now, not when others would need to know. When Cass deserved a burial. When– She looked at Ariadne and Metzli, both grief stricken. Van wasn’t sure what to do for either of them, but she would figure it out.

“I’m sorry, Cass,” Van said again, a small half-sob building in her throat as she got to her feet, legs wobbly.

—

Van finally looked up and, for the briefest moment, hope was a living thing in her chest. It fluttered and rose and sang until the moment her friend’s eyes looked past her, looked off into the middle distance and then back to the rocks. Van couldn’t see her, even with Metzli and Ariadne looking at her, speaking to her directly. Ariadne’s hands had gone through her, not past her. The rocks had been falling from every direction, the pain had been everywhere. And Cass knew. Cass knew what it meant, what it all added up to. The pieces came together like a puzzle no one wanted solved. Cass knew the answer, and everyone else did, too.

The chaos that came after the realization was an immediate thing. Everyone was yelling, stones were being tossed aside. If there was ever a physical embodiment of love, it was in the way Metzli’s hands gripped at those rocks, the way Van dug at the dirt, the way Ariadne screamed and sobbed. She’d been right, down in that cave when the sky was falling. The people here loved her enough to come to her aid every time she called for them. She’d been stupid not to realize it all along.

There was a certain tragedy that came with a certainness that arrived too late. If she’d known weeks ago what had been proven to her now, she wouldn’t have slipped as far as she had. But what had been proven to her now couldn’t have been made certain without what had preceded it. It was like one of those stupid riddles, the ones with no right answer. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you can only be saved by knowing you’re loved, and you can only believe in the love your friends have for you when they’re mourning your loss, did you ever stand a chance?

They were all apologizing, and Cass wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to shake the Earth with all that she felt. But already, her form was flickering; she’d had a promise to keep, and she’d kept it. She’d met them at the top when it was over. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t finished; she wasn’t meant to stay.

“I’m sorry,” she choked on a sob, though there was no wetness on her face. Maybe ghosts didn’t cry; maybe they weren’t capable of it. “I’m — Tell Van. Tell her, too. Make sure she knows. I’m sorry. I love you — I love all of you.” She looked to Ariadne and Metzli in turn, looked to Van who was trying to look at where she stood but couldn’t quite find the right position. The ache in her chest wasn’t a physical thing; on some level, she knew it.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

The world flickered around her, going from black to golden white before resetting back outside the cave. “It wasn’t your fault. Okay? I need you to know that. It wasn’t any of your faults. It was — It was me. Or it was him. Or — Or maybe it was both of us. I don’t know. But it wasn’t your fault. You were — You were everything to me.”

She looked to Aria, forcing a smile. “You’re — I think you’re the best best friend I could have asked for. When I was a kid, I never could have imagined that I’d find someone like you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t a good friend to you in the end. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you deserved, what I — what I wanted to be. I’ll still love you for a hundred years, even if I’m not here to do it.”

Turning to Metzli, she swallowed. “And you… You were my family. Not him. I should have seen it sooner, I should have —” She could fill an ocean with should haves now, couldn’t she? She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain a little while longer. “Please don’t… Please don’t hate yourself for this. It wasn’t your fault. You deserve a family. And you have one. With Leila, with Aria, with so many people who love you. Please don’t… Please don’t let me be the thing that ruins that.”

Van still couldn’t see her. Cass choked on a sob at the realization, looking back to her friend still standing by the ruined mouth of that empty cave. “Tell Van… Tell her I’m glad we were both in the supermarket that night. Tell her that everything that happened, all of it, was worth it just to get to know her. Tell her I wouldn’t change any of it, not for a second. And… and tell her she was right. We would have been friends either way. All of us. The Allgoods were written in the stars, I think.”

She smiled, looking back to Metzli and Ariadne. The world flickered again. “I’m okay,” she told them. “I need you to know I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt. I’m going to be okay. Whatever’s next… I think we’ll see each other again someday. Just not too soon, okay? I don’t mind waiting.”

Another flicker, and it was over. The space she’d occupied was empty, without so much as an echo left behind. The final rumblings of the cave silenced as the ground came to settle beneath the remaining three pairs of feet. There was no more cave; there was no more oread.

And the sky was still there, in the end, still hanging above the Earth as it always had. There was just one less person to see it.

#ariadnewhitlock #vanoincidence #muertarte #ariadne: sky is falling #van: sky is falling #metzli: sky is falling #wickedswriting #:D

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stainedglasstruth · 10 months

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[pm] Am sorry for late message. I do not sleep.

But I wanted to say thank you for you helping me. Master says I will die soon and will not let me leave the crypt so I cannot thank in person.

You have always been kind and it is appreciated.

Wanted you to know this.

Thank you.

[pm] You don't have to apologize. I'm up late pretty often anyway.

You don't have to thank me. You're my friend, Metzli, of course I'm going to help if I can. I'm sorry I haven't been able to be more helpful I'm sorry you've been put in this situation.

[..................] This sounds like a goodbye. [.....] It's not. It won't be. I have to believe that There are so many people doing Leila has been [.......] But I do hope you know I'm glad to have met you. You're such a talented, generous, and considerate person. Even when you can't feel it.

#muertarte #wr metzli

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

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Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Strange crystals have overtaken the town, and touching them creates a “link” to the doomed people of Bleak Point. Some may find they have a stranger influencing their actions, while others might find their emotions amplified. The least fortunate may transform into creatures from the mines and terrorize the town. Come join the chaos of our latest POTW!

Rumors surrounding the screaming moose are picking up steam as some have suggested that the sound doesn't originate from moose, but from very buff squirrels. In any case, someone has erected signs around the Wailing Woods that say "Leave the moose alone. Do not approach. Go to the library or museum instead. There is no yogurt here for you. Stay hydrated. Goodbye."

Scared by everyone it encounters, the Trash Dribbler has taken refuge in a specific dumpster in Oldtown. If you want to find it, you can follow the sound of its crying.

If you've been hanging around Masque of the Red Eye at all this past week, you've probably heard local vampire Rupert Pennyworth tell tales of an underwater ship graveyard he discovered on a deep swim this past week. Most have written it off as another tall-tale from the hyperbolic vampire, but local cryptid enthusiasts have started making theories about a Drowned Ship Garden. Theories range from Wormy starting the collection to a local orca pod attacking boats in a specific region. Whether or not it's real, of it anyone else can find and live to tell the tale, is not entirely clear.

Starters:

A baby giraffe is being born at the zoo and Metzli wants to make sure everyone knows this huge and adorable news.

When someone never gives you up or lets you down, Leticia knows not to run around and desert them. She's taken suggestions for fashion-choices for the damaged Rick Astley cutout at Vinyl Countdown. If you're feeling like you're on a roll of the rick variety, send your suggestions over today.

Get Masami up to speed. He's back in town and confused why he's having to tell kids to not lick rocks.

Help Emilio help his friend as he is very genuinely and not at all sarcastically seeking advice.

Nora may not be a faun but she craves that mineral. Well, at least the first four letters anyway. Come to the mines!

Cass is working on her spidersona and here for ideas on how to incorporate the new gems all over town.

A beloved stuffed jaguar is missing and Vida would appreciate any help finding a replacement for her daughter.

People really need to make Lil stop being the voice of reason, but please don't touch the crystals.

Someone remind Levi why it should come back to Wicked's Rest because the coast of Greece is sounding so much better.

Before this PRIDE month ends, Alex thinks you should donate your money to a lesbian in STEM.

Felix wants to know how hard it is to change a phone number. Because... reasons.

Mack is in the market for some acting classes of the mime variety! That's normal, right?

People are disappearing from the beach, and Marina wants to know who's removing the signs. It's definitely probably not her.

Anyone need a car? Juno has one for sale! I'm sure it isn't stolen.

Regan wants to know what the opposite think of a milkshake is. Since those bring all the boys to the yard, and she is trying to keep kids away from the yard. Got any tips?

Want a cute crocheted octopus? Cassius has plenty!

Mateo has no damn patience for sad cryptids. Anyone wanna catch the Trash Dribbler for him?

Wanna get bit by a bug? No? Well, Anita is offering money if you change your mind. It's for science!

There's a crystal fissure in the hotel-casino's rose garden. Don't touch it. Or do! Dïs already did their due diligence.

#wicked's rest weekly #wrw

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wickedsrest-rp-archive · 2 years

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Well everybody, that’s it. It has been such a pleasure writing with you all this iteration! Now that the town has up and gone kablooey, it’s onward to greener pastures! As mentioned in the recent discord announcement, you are welcome to continue posting your writing and using the dash for IC interactions as much as you like as your characters make their way into the great wide world! That said, the mod team will be busy getting everything ready for the relaunch, so we will no longer be supporting this blog. We’re very excited to share all the new content and lore with you, and will continue to trickle tidbits via the discord relaunch previews channel!

We’re going to collect links to all the finale writing that is posted in one convenient place below! This list will of course be updated for a few days beyond today to make sure we get everyone’s writing, but this will be our final post on the main. If you have posted a piece of writing to the dash and don’t see it included, please let us know via ModMail so we can make sure to add it!

See you back here again this February!

FINALE WRITING:

Emilio, Teddy, and Rhett are getting ready to leave when Rhett informs them that he won’t be joining them.

A large group caravan is stalled by the realization that something is wrong with the ritual, and Metzli comes up with the solution that none of them want.

Bobbi gets the hell out of dodge with her ship’s crew, and boy was that a good call.

Sage decides to stay and fall alongside her farm, reminiscing as the end draws near.

Lilian finds some comfort in the ghosts of those that she knew as the town falls to ruin.

Winn says goodbye to the moon.

Baz reflects on what is important to them as they face their own death, determined to keep the destruction from spreading.

Doing her part to help save the town’s refugees, Abigail stays behind and offers some comfort to the spirits of White Crest in the town’s final hours.

Rhett makes his final stand as the town crumbles.

Making their way to the center of town, Metzli commits to their split-second decision o self-sacrifice and finds it to be the best one they could have made.

#wickedsmod

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natusvincere · 2 years

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Giving In To Love || Metzli and Vic

Who: @deathisanartmetzli and @natusvincere When: Current Timing Where: Vic’s Home, The East End What: Metzli learns the truth about Vic’s absence, and her strange posts on the internet. They talk about the future. Warnings: n/a

Hesitation became a complete halt when foot met the first step toward the door to Vic’s home. Metzli had never visited before. They never had a reason to. The relationship between the two vampires was a complicated one. The source of most of the complications could be found in one particular party, but Metzli didn’t want to point fingers. They never met a challenge they couldn’t enjoy or beat, so they set off to release the tension. Whether dignified or ridiculous, the friendship would bloom with or without Vic’s acceptance. And much to her dismay, it had. Otherwise, Metzli wouldn’t have received an invitation to her home, and they wouldn’t be climbing the steps, or knocking on her door.

Each beat sounded louder than the last, the rhythm common enough that anyone could decipher it to say, “Hey! I’m here!” without any real words. Metzli waited patiently, the silence around them unable to settle due to an anomaly in the area. Their eyes squinted in concentration, and they registered two separate heartbeats. One they could recognize as a dog, but they couldn’t place the other. Human, absolutely. But what human would Vic bring into her home even while knowing the dangers? They couldn’t help their disbelief and they blinked several times, eyes staying open and widening when the door opened. For a few moments, they couldn’t speak. They simply stared as a million thoughts raced through their mind until it crashed into one word. “H-hi.”

Vic shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have told Metzli to come over. The whole point of this was to protect the child, and now she was inviting a strange vampire in her home. Okay, they weren’t strange. In fact, despite Vic’s protests, she might even consider them… a friend. How detestable. “Winnie, you remember the attack word, right?” she asked her dog, who was currently licking her own butt. She rolled her eyes, both at the dog, and at herself. Despite the reality of the situation, she had felt a pull to tell someone, anyone about her situation, and the more and more she thought about it, the more Metzli made sense. She didn’t know why, but maybe, like most things lately, it was just better to accept it.

Rosie, with all her rolls and dimples and joy, laid mindlessly in her crib, reaching for Vic as she picked her up with a giggle and that silly, sideways smirk. She was too innocent to realize the depravity of her situation, and Vic worried what disaster might strike when she realized the truth. She swung open the door, holding the baby against her with all the care of a truly seasoned parent. “Metzli”, she said, trying her best to keep her mouth in a straight line. She didn’t know how to handle these situations, but something about the shock on their face brought just the smallest bit of joy to Vic. “Please come in”, she said, standing to the side. She led them to her living room, pristine and moderately decorated, and sat down on one of the couches, holding the baby in her lap. “Oh”, she said, her voice void of emotion. “This is Rose. She’s my baby.”

Their steps past the threshold of the doorframe were robotic in a way, but still calculated. Keeping the baby, Rose, in mind, Metzli made sure to steer clear from her space, too scared to touch. Not just for her sake, but for Vic’s too. She may have considered them enough of a friend to invite them over, to invite them in, but she was nothing if not overly cautious. One false move, and Metzli could say goodbye to their other arm, and they were in no mood to discover how to exist without both of them. With a swallow, they backed up into the entryway and stood completely still, trying to find their voice.

The tiny, powerful thrum in Rose’s chest didn’t incite hunger as it should have, but a sort of curiosity. A type that led to an unceremonious plea for answers. “H-how is this—where did you get a baby? We can’t bear children. We can’t—can we? It’s—como chingados…oh…pues…’ta madre.” Metzli struggled to understand how Vic, of all people, got her hands on a baby. They tousled their hair, curling their fingers around a few locks to pull and center themself. Pacing, back and forth, Metzli eventually calmed down enough to take a deep breath. The air from their lungs was cold and exasperated, leaving them emptied from most of their anxiety. “Okay. Sorry. This is just surprising. Uh…may I?” Extending an arm, Metzli requested something dangerous. The danger most likely attacking in the form of fangs that they had yet to see.

Vic watched Metzli carefully- from their rigid movements to the way they watched Rosie with interest, and maybe… fear. It wasn’t bloodlust that drove their view, at least not the type of bloodlust Vic had experience in her long life. When she agreed to this, when she promised to take care of Rose, she had to consider all the options- to force herself to think of all the possibilities that might come out of being responsible for a human child 24/7. ‘No’, she’d told them. ‘What if I…’, but the words dissolved from her lips before she could utter them, ashamed and afraid of even speaking the words aloud.

She refused to let it happen. Refused to even think about it again. Instead, she stocked up on animal blood, and ethically sourced human blood if she had to. More than enough than she’d ever need, just in case. No, she’d never ever be hungry around Rose. She wouldn’t let herself.

But Metzli too, didn’t seem to look at Rose with the hunger of a monster, once again proving her centuries of assumptions and anger toward vampires wrong. “She’s not mine biologically”, she explained, even though that much was obvious. Though tiny, Rose was nearly 6 months old now, a mere 2 months older than she was when she was given to Vic. “Some friends of mine…they…”, she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together as she explained. “There was a bounty on their heads, they…” Rose couldn’t understand, but Vic felt compelled to block her ears anyway. And she did just that. “They knew they weren’t going to make it out alive. And without any family, I…, well I somehow ended up as their back-up plan. It’s preposterous, isn’t it?” She stood up, shaking her head. “Me. I mean… me? And it all happened so fast, I just…”

She watched as Metzli reached out, resisting the urge to hold the baby close to her chest and push them away. But then, the same feeling that was stirring in her chest, the one that convinced her to invite Metzli here in the first place, it came fluttering up once again. Instead, she turned her around, allowing Metzli to get a better look. To touch her, even.

Metzli saw a parade of emotions march on Vic’s face. The forms were seamless and quick, some so minute that it was difficult even for them to catch. She was just as lost as they were, but in a whole different way. A baby was thrust into her life and now she was on a new journey of parenthood. Metzlo could only imagine the fear she felt. Knowing her disgust for her own kind, they thought she might be terrified of the possibilities. Lucky for her though, they knew just how much more stubborn she was than her own fear.

“Yeah. You.” They began with a growing smile. “Who better than you, Vic? You’re feisty, annoying, follow the rules, and strong with a hidden soft side. All the makings of any good mother.” Metzli’s eyes lit up with optimism as they spoke, honesty dripping from every word, as well as a hint of condolence. For such a beautiful opportunity, the origins were grim at best, and the vampire couldn’t help but feel an incredible wave of sorrow for Rose and her parents.

All that emotion changed though, when Vic, fighting all of her bias, gave Metzli a chance to interact with Rosie. Giddiness filled them, and they couldn’t help but visibly jump at such a quick buildup. “She’s adorable,” They stated, bending at the waist while offering a finger to Rose, to which she tightly wrapped her tiny hand around instantly. “And strong.” Their eyes scanned her pudgy cheeks, her rolls, her tiny nose, everything, laughing at her infantile grunts. Truth be told, Metzli had always wanted a child of their own, and it was nice for a moment to live vicariously through Vic. Teddy’s age reversal wasn’t nearly the age Rose was, nor was it long enough, so the interaction was something that sated a new craving that developed as a result.

Rosie bounced and babbled on Vic’s lap, leaning into Metzli as they moved to greet her. She didn’t even have the mind yet to fear strangers, although thanks to the many parenting and childhood development books Vic had delved into, she knew that soon Rosie would be turning into her for protection at the mere suspicion of danger, strangers included. “Her parents would have been better, for one”, Vic countered, but she regretted it as soon as she said it. Metzli did not deserve unkindness or impatience. “You can’t seriously think that, Metzli. You can’t seriously think that I’ll be a proper mother”. She swallowed down the urge to stand up and storm away. “I don’t… I never even had a mother. I mean, I had a mother, I suppose, but I don’t remember anything about her. And my father, well, … that’s a joke, isn’t it? Nevermind mother, Metzli, I don’t even know what a proper parent looks like. I don’t even…” She paused, watching as the interaction between the two continued.

As Rose wrapped her tiny fingers around Metzli’s, Vic was spurred on to continue. “She’s incredibly strong- strong willed, even. Can you imagine me with a teenager? Or a part of a parent teacher organization?” Her voice was dipping into a whisper, as if the very combination of words made them a curse. “And what happens when…”, she sighed, her eyes pressing closed. “What happens when she discovers what I am, Metzli? How am I supposed to explain to her that the one being who’s meant to protect her has a nature that’s… monstrous?”

Hands waved in front of Vic, vehemently in fact, as if to reject everything the woman was saying. Her fears, while reasonable, were founded on fear, and Metzli knew better than anyone how limiting it could make everything. Of all the monsters in the world, fear had of way of grasping anyone’s throat. Leaving them unable to make a door and move through it. “I do seriously think that. Lack of proper parenting in your childhood be damned.” Their eyes softened at Vic, and they finagled their way to sit next to her. Several times, Metzli’s mouth opened and closed, but they couldn’t quite find the right words. Or the right flow. Until, finally, they placed an anxious hand on Vic’s knee, hoping she wouldn’t retaliate.

“We…we didn’t have good parents. Yeah, that’s true and all, but that shouldn’t play a part in our fears.” As Metzli continued, their eyes welled with tears, more images of their time with Teddy flashing in their mind. “We know what we wanted. What we needed. We know what we never got, and you, Vic…” A dry chuckle escaped Metzli’s throat and they nodded their head, “You’ve got the chance to break the cycle of everything. To be everything your parents should’ve been when they made the decision to have you. I know this because I got the chance.”

Their smile grew brighter, “This boy, well, he’s a grown man, but I kind of adopted him. And with this shit happening in town, he got turned into his kid self.” Pausing, Metzli raked a hand through their hair as they adjusted themself to turn their hips toward Vic, giving her all of their attention. “Macleod and I, we just…with what we are—I mean, you know how dangerous it can be—we just made it work. We ate constantly. And we were so good at being parents. I was so scared I’d yell, or hurt him, or god, be…” A tear fell down Metzli’s cheek then, thinking of the word Vic used. They even tried to wipe it before it fell, but it was futile. “Be a monster, you know?” Metzli leaned forward, imploring Vic to listen to them by cradling Rosie’s head and gesturing toward their friend with their half limb. If they had the capability, they would have been cupping her hand. “If I can do it, then you definitely can. You can teach her to be a proud person, to be fierce and unwavering, while also having a big heart just beneath the surface. Just like you.” To emphasize the last three words, Metzli tapped on Vic’s arm with each, smiling as they did. “You can teach her about us, and what we are, and that some aren’t that bad. I know we’re monsters, cariña, but sometimes we can choose not to be. And you can teach her all about us as she grows. Both to know we exist and how to protect herself. You can do all that, and still kick ass in the PTA.”

As Metzli moved closer, Rose squirmed in Vic’s grasp, and Vic let the baby rest against her, like she so often enjoyed doing before she fell asleep, grabbing at Vic’s face in exploration that only a baby could muster. Her eyes fell to their hand, and remained there as they spoke. But then, at their revelation, Vic was forced to look up, squinting her eyes at them in wonder. Had Metzli and Eilidh managed to find a way to have a child? Two cursed souls, raising another? It wasn’t an impossible thought, honestly, considering the little fingers that were currently tugging at her ears, but it was a curious one, all the same.

Metzli explained more, and Vic couldn’t help but watch them with a wonder and amusement that, when she first met them, she was sure would always be a disdain. They spoke about everything with such a passion and assurance, but nothing seemed more real than what they were talking about here and now. And despite the logistics of this grown-man child living with two annoying, infuriating monsters, somehow it all made sense. It fit, like it was supposed to. For so long, Vic was sure that families were rotten, because in her experience, families were mothers who disappeared, or fathers filled with rage, or selfish fiances, or patronizing in laws, or perfect, beautiful, enchanting sister-in-laws, who managed to open your eyes to a world of love and then die before your eyes due to a fault of your own. But maybe families weren’t that at all. Maybe families could be the random puzzle pieces that fell to the floor, left forgotten by the wayside, until someone found that, despite being from different puzzles, they miraculously fit together. Maybe she and Metzli were their own family too, in an odd way.

Vic didn’t remember when tears started swelling in her eyes, only that she’d been staring at Metzli for a long time once they finished talking. Months ago, she would have shot down the emotion with a retort, with a push, because when people got too close, when they showed her love, they went away. But Metzli had continued to be a ball full of annoyance and wisdom and understanding, and never expected Vic to be anything different than exactly what she was. “It’s terrifying to think that we’re not all bad, Metzli, because that would mean that I’ve done a lot of bad things to a lot of innocent beings. I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.”

She let out a breath, but the tears continued to fall, and so she asked the question that had been on her mind for a while. “When you leave… you and MacLeod, I mean… Where are you going? I don’t…”, she bit her lip as she paused, unsure of exactly how much she wanted to share. “Rosie should have more family than just me, don’t you think? Perhaps… maybe we could find somewhere wherever you both end up.”

Metzli let out a breathy chuckle, biting their top lip from the amusement Rosie caused. She hadn’t yet been tainted by the world. Innocent and free from the burden of what darkness roamed about. Ironic how two literal monsters were the least of her worries. They were the last people who would want to hurt her or cause her any distress, and Metzli would play a part in her protection if Vic would allow it. Call it a hunch, but they had a feeling she would. Not because of the tears or how overwhelmed Vic clearly was, but the way she was actually listening to them and letting them be so close.

“Terrifying or not, fear is just an energy, cariña.” Metzli shook their head, eyes still soft and determined. Before, that word was used as a flirtation method. But now? It was a friendly term of endearment. “Master forced me to do a lot of horrible things, to a lot of innocent people. I mean, I get that he forced me, but I ended up enjoying it sometimes. Getting my soul back changed it all though.” They sighed, holding a shrug until they let go with a shake of their head, looking down at their hand. “I regret all of that, so much, but I can’t take it back. What I can do—what we can do—is make changes and do our best to cause positive ripples. Do things to not just redeem, but truly help and be better because everyone deserves that. It’ll be hard, but it’ll be so worth it. I promise.”

Vic’s tears weren’t unexpected, but they were still a cause for pause. Metzli had never seen the hardened woman display such raw emotion. Doing so was such a huge risk, so they did the same. Lifting their hand gently, Metzli used their thumb to wipe away what tears they could, retracting it before they overstepped—if they hadn’t already. “We’ll be traveling southwest and we’d love to see you again. Got your number anyway, Vicky. We’ll be sure to stay in touch.” Quirking a brow, in true Metzli fashion, they teased despite the tearful interaction. “Especially since I gotta be the cool aunt. But, like, zizi. That’s what my friend’s kid calls me.”

Even before she was turned, Vic had been conditioned to be so vehemently opposed to physical affection that she practically shied away from most people’s touch. But now, as Metzli spoke, she fought away the smallest urge to lean forward and embrace them. She never would have thought after their first meeting that this urge, as tiny and miniscule as it was, would ever present itself, lest she were under a curse or a spell, but she also didn’t feel completely disgusted by the feeling, either. But, she was still Vic, with all her fears and insecurities and rock hard exteriors, so that small urge gave way to Vic’s hand resting gently on Metzli’s knee, squeezing lightly.

“Maybe regret is confirmation that we’re not monsters. Maybe an idea as big as monstrosity is a lot more nuanced than I ever realized until now.” Rose reached out and tugged at some of Metzli’s hair, and Vic gently moved her hand away, though she moved back to do it again. “It’s going to take another 300 years of being better to truly feel like I’ve made in the dent in the harm I’ve done, but I guess… What else is there but time?” She paused briefly, thinking on how she should start. “Metzli, are you aware of any orphanages that need funding?”

She should have pulled away. 6 months ago, maybe even last week, she would have pulled away, but instead, Vic leaned into Metzli’s gesture, and closed her eyes as she accepted it. “I’d have to think about it, of course”, she said, haphazardly wiping another tear that had fallen. “I mean, sticking around to watch you and MacLeod be all gushy all the time? Maybe that’s not good for the baby after all.” She never joked like that, and so she attempted a teasing wink to alert Metzli to the fact that that’s exactly what she was trying to do. “Zizi. I like it.” She looked down toward Rosie who was still holding a fistful of Metzli’s hair. “I think she does too.”

#p:metzli #p #p:gitl

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wonder-in-wings · 1 year

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@muertarte replied to your post “[Chuy finds Metzli’s phone and goes through...”:

[pm] Infantile is the tantrum they just threw. Very strange that they made friends at all, but even more strange that they became friends with a hunter. Regardless, I’d say goodbye to them soon. This isn’t a friendship that is going to last.

[pm] I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the proverbial tree if your first message is an insult.

Worse than a hunter, actually. Of course it wasn't going to last. Though I can't help but think that the nuance of why might be wasted so I'll save both of our time.

I enjoyed it while it lasted.

#muertarte #private Chuy // bad first impressions

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braindeacl · 2 years

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Token of Love | Eilidh & Milo

TIMING: Current. PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Milo has been sober for 2 weeks. Eilidh makes him something to celebrate. WARNINGS: Addiction, drug abuse.

It wasn’t unusual for Metzli, and EIlidh to go on trips together. Whether it be to the centre of White Crest, the deepest recesses of the forest, or places Milo had never heard of before, and likely would never hear of again… he could always count on them to return. Sometimes they behaved suspiciously, sometimes it was obvious they were only leaving to hunt, or have sex in places they really shouldn’t be having sex in. He had learned the hard way not to ask too many questions, but regardless, always insisted on seeing them off. He wasn’t dramatic. There were no serious goodbyes, or meaningful, drawn out hugs, but like a child might hover by the front door as their parents got ready for work, he had taken to doing the same. Lingering in the new entrance hall, beside the steps leading down to his basement bedroom, he watched affectionately as Metzli wandered by, disappearing into the living area. There was an undeniable sense of excitement in the air. Metzli had mentioned a date a couple of days prior, he could only assume that was the reason for it. Taking comfort in the fact that, no matter what, the two always managed to come back to him, he offered Eilidh a quiet smile. She glanced towards where Metzli was still occupied before crossing the distance between them, looking at him with intent, as though she had something important that she wanted to say. “If you’re going to tell me to behave myself while you’re out, you really don’t need to do that anymore.” He teased, his curiosity peaked. It was much harder to do any damage when he was clean, and sober. Suddenly it felt difficult to get himself into trouble. “If anything I should be the one telling you to be careful. Use protection and all that…” He grinned, his eyes shining with mischief.

Eilidh didn’t understand his change. His urge. At first, it felt they had lost a part of their bond. Their fun times suddenly washed away, forever. Her assumption was placed on those words on bitter tongues. Pressures from peers culminating in the opposite of what parents warned. More like made a big fuss of, she thought. She had her own experiences with drug consumption. In how it often consumed you, too. A deal she agreed with each puff and sniff and prick, for every good was paired with its opposite. Balanced. A thought that hardly left her lips at the sight of Milo’s determination. He had no use for that cycle. Well, at least, there was a want for that disinterest. A difficult battle. It made her worried for the days to come; made her want to discourage it all. She felt she should. But… it was an effort that made him happy. In doing so, it led to her own. A joy he greatly needed, for it would be his needed balance. A loss of a love equalized by a loss of a thing he no longer did. At least, helped partially. It should be celebrated; battles called for medals. She knew of those modern, human customs. Of old friends who showed her tokens with their eyes dark but smiles bright. Smiles that sometimes pushed away the dark.

Eilidh’s hands were not skilled in metals, but they knew textiles. Small but firm, her creation was nestled in her palm. She approached him with an eager grin. “Bah. Should be warning those we run into of such.” Her lips gained an extra curl. “Ear protection.” She paused for a chuckle, letting the joke simmer. Then pushed aside the teasing with a wave of her hand. Allowed for the wanted topic to slip in the gap — become the focus. “But first.” The creation switched hands. Slipped into his palm with ease, since it was made for him. A knitted token of golden yarn, with a number made of sparkling thread. Twinkling like a precious gem. “For you. For ye efforts.”

Milo laughed, enjoying the way Eilidh always looked at him. He could see the love in her eyes, alongside the genuine care for his wellbeing. He knew she didn’t need to support him in his endeavour to get clean. She was probably missing the way they used to bond over substances. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was too. It was impossible when the nights they spent together used to bring him so much joy, used to feel so freeing, and cathartic. Yet she had been supportive, and sincere. Staying by his side without voicing an opinion on the matter, which meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. He had come to appreciate her steadfast presence, the knowledge that, even when she didn’t necessarily understand his decisions, she would try to acknowledge them. This acceptance meant he didn’t expect her to raise the subject. Certainly not in a way that might encourage his sobriety. So when she held out a small knitted token, it took him a moment too long to realise what the purpose of it was. “For my efforts?” He echoed, delicately turning it over in his palm. The number 2 had been embroidered with a thread that caught the light, and as he watched it shine, the significance of it became apparent to him. Two weeks of sobriety, and he had his very first token. A token he had never thought he would have the privilege to earn. It wasn’t as though an NA group would be beneficial to him when he couldn’t be open, and honest about his trauma. Not for the first time, he wondered what a supernatural support group would look like. Staring down at it, running his thumb over the embroidery as he contemplated both how far he had come, and how far he still had to go, he swallowed his emotion in an attempt to collect himself. “Did- did you make this?” He looked back up, blinking tears away before they were able to fall. “You made this for me?”

Eilidh watched him with growing anticipation. A growth in tandem with his realization to the cause of her gift. Her smile joined the cultivation of the moment, soon threatening to split her face in two. It was so funny, how something so small could inspire such blooms. Kin to the acorn, warm in color and potential. In time, only more would grow from it. Even in her doubts, her worries she had seen realized in others, his face told her so. The oak would grow. At least for a moment, but a moment is all anyone got. A hum whistled passed her smiling teeth at his inquiry. A smile that wavered, but not with it her delight, as his tears almost flowed. Those floodgates did not open, but something else did in her heart. “Nah. Want ye to give it to Metzli.” There was a chuckle to her voice that rang out into nothing, taking with it the remainder of her grin. Her lips pressed into that of thought. “Seen those wee things ‘fore. Figured is the time ye oughta start getting ‘em, hm?” Those like them were barred from many aspects of society. Human society. Things she could do well without — had always done well without. But she knew the young ones struggled with the transition between worlds, trying to balance on that delicate tightrope. Before he finally made that plunge, she hoped, at least, this could offer some reprieve. And perhaps even more so in her arms, as she wrapped him into a hug.

Milo laughed at the joke, the sound coming easily to him. After losing Silas, laughter didn’t feel right, but he was beginning to allow himself brief moments of contentment. He might actually go insane without them. Certainly the journey he was taking would be made impossible. “No way- not happening.” He teased right back, clutching the token to his chest. He already felt protective of it, proud of everything it stood for. “Metzli didn’t put in the work.” That wasn’t technically true, his mind conjured images of Metzli shivering on their old sofa. Suffering the aftermath of sharing in his addiction. He hadn’t realised at the time just how powerful his desires were. It scared him to truly consider. But for the sake of keeping the conversation light, he sidestepped correcting his statement. “I, uh… I kind of secretly wanted one.” He admitted, knowing if he was still human, blood would be rushing to his face. It made him feel childish, and somewhat exposed, but if he could be honest with anybody, he could be honest with Eilidh. Especially now, while she was inviting him to confide in her. “I just don’t think those groups are the right place for a vampire, you know… not that I was excited about telling a bunch of strangers my secrets.” His smile growing, Eilidh pulled him into a hug before he was able to initiate the contact, and he melted into it, letting his cheek rest heavily against her shoulder. “I don’t need them anyway.” He added, his voice muffled, but undeniably dripping with love. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, the token safe in the palm of his hand. “I have you…”

#token of love #wickedswriting #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. milo s.#addiction tw #drug abuse tw #// short and sweet!

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wickedmilo · 2 years

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THE HARD PART | MILO SOLO

PLACE: Metzli’s bathroom TIMING: 1:03 AM SUMMARY: Milo takes his first, shaky steps towards recovery CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug use, addiction, no mention of alcohol/alcoholism but implied

Milo stared at the assortment of substances he had managed to balance along the edge of the sink. It was easy to find them, to search the apartment for stray pills, and half empty baggies. It was easy to spread them out. Randomly at first, only to organise them by size, then by colour, then by price, then by weight. If he could successfully find excuses to keep them, to stay with them just a little while longer, then it made the prospect of what he was about to do feel less daunting. Suddenly his sobriety wasn’t a tangible thing. Counting the pill bottles, a new way to distract himself, he faltered as he began to read their labels. He had always found a home in chemicals, even after finding a home in Metzli, and Eilidh. But things were different now, he had seen his future, witnessed everything he didn’t want to become. He knew how to stop it, he knew what needed to change, and with Silas by his side he could do it, because he had to. If he didn’t, Julien would be right. Reaching forward, he selected a prescription bottle of Oxy, undeniably his favourite vice, and cracked open the lid. Emptying the few remaining pills into his hand, he placed one on his tongue, swallowing decisively before he could guilt himself into any inclination of regret. The final two he slipped into his pocket, the survivors of a begrudging necessity. He would take the remaining capsules, and then he would be done with them. Some stolen hours of comfort couldn’t possibly make things any worse.

He had been toying with the idea for over a week. Had even thrown his stash into the trash, only to fish out every item after thirty minutes of pacing the kitchen. At one point he had even debated throwing his drugs from his window, but nothing felt permanent enough. No matter what he did, if he could retrieve what he was trying to rid himself of, he was going to. So there was only one thing left for him to do. It was a cliché, but it had to be a cliché for a reason. People turned to this technique because it worked. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he fought against every one of his instincts, trying not to contemplate what was going to happen after he left the safety of the bathroom. Instead he picked up a small ball of saran wrap, dropping it into the toilet bowl without checking for the contents. He didn’t need to know what it held anymore, that information was irrelevant. Watching it with a morbid curiosity as it floated in the water, he steeled his resolve to repeat the action, this time emptying some unmarked pills, only setting the plain bottle down when it was empty. Then he said goodbye to his weed, sprinkling the dried buds, letting their aroma fill the space. He already missed the smoke in his lungs. Cigarettes filled a different hole, they quieted a different hunger. His hand hovering awkwardly, it wasn’t lost on him that now would be the perfect time to turn back. To take what was left, and give up. Before he could hurt himself, before he could suffer the first steps of an impossible journey. But then he thought of Silas, who was no doubt preparing to complete a similar ritual. Of Metzli, and Eilidh who were beside him when he faced down his sire. And of his parents, who would be so proud to see him making an effort, even if it felt like the battle was already lost.

“Come on, asshole- you can do this…” He muttered, pushing his hair back away from his face. “This isn’t even the hard part…”

Setting his jaw, he turned his attention to the rest of the collection, emptying bottles, dropping pills, tabs, and powder until he was left with nothing but packaging. Still, technically, it wasn’t too late. It would be questionable, and definitely disgusting, but he could rescue any casualties. Dry them out, and allow them to fulfil their purpose. Not everything had been destroyed just yet. Repressing the thought, he ignored how much he wanted to give in to the urge. He might fall, he knew failure was probable, but he wasn’t about to fall at the first hurdle. He was better than that, at least. He needed to be because his friends believed that he was. Moving quickly, before he could talk himself out of the action, he pushed down the flush, his heart sinking at the sound of the water as it washed away the essence of who he was. Milo Summers disappeared piece by piece, forced down by the pressure, the bathroom felt too small. If not for the pill bottles, there would be no proof of his loss, and he hated that. Hated the fact that it could feel so insignificant. He wasn’t ready, he was never going to be ready. He couldn’t deny it, so he withdrew a carton of cigarettes, almost defiant of his fear. With some help from Nicotine, maybe he could find the strength to walk back into the apartment, into the new world, alien world he was creating for himself.

#solo #milo solo #drug tw #alcohol tw #drug use tw

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fermataheart · 3 years

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MORE THAN A FRIEND | milo & silas

TIMING: recent. LOCATION: milo & metzli’s apartment. PARTIES: @fermataheart & @wickedmilo SUMMARY: silas arrives with a peace offering for milo. CONTENT WARNINGS: medical blood, addiction, drug use.

Milo hovered awkwardly in the entryway, standing where he had been standing for the past fifteen minutes while he listened to Silas through the door. He was still outside, he knew because at spontaneous intervals the zombie tried knocking. Pleading in a way that exacerbated his hangover, and made him want to open the door just for the satisfaction slamming it in his face would bring. But he couldn’t. He was frozen. Torn between wanting to make his hurt known, and wanting to let in the person who had come to mean so much to him. He believed Silas, believed that it had been a lapse of judgement brought on by emotion, and trauma, but that didn’t make it any easier to let it go of. Especially now that things had become difficult with Metzli. He had done so much to keep him safe, and at the first opportunity Silas had begged a slayer to kill him. Not just any slayer. Emilio. In his own apartment, directly in front of him… there were so many ways the situation was screwed. So many ways that things had become complicated, and confusing. Swallowing, continuing to stare at the door, he finished what was left of the blood in his mug before setting it down on the kitchen counter. He wasn’t stupid. If he made Silas wait any longer he would be liable to give up. And though he didn’t necessarily want him here, he didn’t necessarily want him gone either. Steeling his resolve, he moved quickly, stepping forward to pull open the door before he could decide doing so was a terrible idea. In a matter of seconds the barrier between them was gone. He felt vulnerable and exposed, no longer in control of the situation. Holding his friend’s gaze, refusing to look away from him, he ignored the way his heart seemed to flutter in his chest. He was dead. It wasn’t supposed to be doing that. “What?” He demanded, his voice lacking the anger he had intended it to carry. Instead he sounded tired, resigned to the conversation that was no doubt about to take place. “Are you coming to say goodbye?”

—

There was no way to know if Milo was even home, since he’d stopped responding to Silas’ texts. So, after what felt like an appropriate amount of time (and when he knew Metzli would be at work), Silas decided to just drop in and see. Of course his dread grew with each knock that went unanswered, but he persisted, desperately needing the chance to explain himself. To fix this. God, he had nothing in the world right now and he couldn’t stand it for another day. He had to fix this, even if that meant begging Milo to forgive him.

When he heard the sound of footsteps, his throat closed up. Suddenly, the monologue he’d been repeating in his head over and over was utterly gone, and he had no idea what to say. The door opened, and the sight of Milo was enough to make him feel that familiar tightening of the chest that always came before tears. Dry-eyed, the zombie let out a soft sigh.

“No, Milo, I’m not here to say goodbye,” he muttered. “I came with a peace offering, n’ was just hopin’ we could… hang out.” Offering a weak smile, Silas shrugged the backpack he was wearing off his shoulder, lifting it in his hand as if to say that the gift was inside. “Got my hands on some of that carmilla we talked about for ya… figured, if you wanted, I could help you with it. S’not easy, exactly, but… I got you.”

—

Milo frowned, trying to ignore the way Silas looked as though he might fall apart. He wanted to justify his attitude, but he couldn’t. Watching him now it became all the more obvious. Everything that had taken place had been the result of Andreas. Years of manipulation, and abuse at his hands. Jeez, it would be so simple to blame Silas, so simple that he almost wanted to. But with every second he looked into the man’s eyes, his resolve dissipated. Melting away to be replaced by a familiar sense of affection. It was only when his shoulders dropped in visible relief did he realise part of him was genuinely worried a goodbye was the purpose of the visit. Knowing Silas apparently wasn’t going anywhere just yet, it felt like a victory of sorts. Maybe he still wanted to die, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he could become something for the zombie to live for.

Raising his eyebrows at the mention of a peace offering, he found himself immediately intrigued. Distracted by the prospect of a new drug, one that held so many fascinating capabilities, he made no effort to hide his excitement. “You did?” Hesitating briefly, not wanting to be seen as giving in without putting up a fight, he moved away from the door, inviting Silas inside the apartment. He wanted to ask what ‘not easy’ meant, but the Carmilla could wait. “I only accept this peace offering if we can talk about what happened.” It was out of character for him to want to discuss anything that had caused him pain. Even he was caught off guard by his statement. But spending three days drinking himself into oblivion had shown him this particular issue couldn’t be avoided. The whole time he had been running from thoughts of Dani, Orion, and his Sire. People who didn’t think he was worth their time, people who didn’t think he was enough of a reason to stay. “Deal?”

—

The hope that this could all be resolved with his gift was an empty one, and Silas knew that going in. He wanted to explain himself, he didn’t want to just brush this under the rug where it could fester, but when Milo specifically asked for it, still the hesitation crept in.

“Deal,” he agreed softly, setting the bag down beside the coffee table. The zombie squatted in front of it, carefully unzipping it and reaching inside to pull out two very large, capped syringes, setting them delicately on the table. And, because he really wanted this to be a night they could enjoy, a small tin joined the syringes that four pills rattled around in. Dragging a hand over his face, Silas looked over at Milo. Trying desperately to remember all the things he’d wanted to say, only a few stood out, so he figured he’d start with those.

“First off… I’m sorry. Like really, really sorry. That’s a side ah’ me that I’ve kept under wraps for years, even before I got turned. It’s just… one of them things. Guess I found my breakin’ point where I couldn’t hold it in anymore.” His gaze dropped to the floor, ashamed. “Wasn’t fair to you—but I swear, I didn’t do it outta malice. It just… came up. Word vomit.”

The next part was much harder to admit, which resulted in a lengthy pause while Silas tried to gather his nerves. His arms were folded protectively over his chest, chin resting in one hand with his palm covering his mouth, as if that’d help, attention drifting somewhere off to the side.

“I know it’s… fucked up, but I’m not, ah…” Goddamnit. “I don’t feel relieved that he’s gone, Milo. It was never a weight off my shoulders. I’m—I’ve been—” Goddamnit. “I know I should be happy, but I ain’t. I’m sad. I’m grieving. Hate that I am, know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help it. I went back to the cabin to—to bury him. Thought it might help. Can’t tell if it did, if’m honest.” An anxious smile appeared on his lips, though it was hidden by his hand. “So… it’s weird, all of it. M’tryin’ to process it the best I can. But I need—” His dark eyes finally moved back to where Milo knelt beside him, brows knitted with concern. “—I need somethin’ to keep me goin’.” The fingers that pressed against his lips moved away, tucking tightly beneath his opposite arm. “Havin’ you around is… the best thing I’ve found so far. Not tryin’ to put a weight on you, but I could really use a friend.”

—

Closing the door behind Silas, Milo watched as he knelt in front of the coffee table, pulling two needles from his bag to lay them delicately down. Immediately the crook of his arm began to itch. “It’s intravenous?” He asked, unable to hide his sudden discomfort. The needles were too large to be intended for a vein, and the process of taking a drug had never turned him away from chasing a high, but undeniably he had been caught off guard. “The last time I shot up… someone killed me.” He admitted, moving closer to stare at the syringes. At least this was confirmation Silas didn’t care about his track marks. “Where do these go?” Glancing up at the couch, he longed to sit down, longed to endure the following conversation in comfort, as though somehow that might make it more bearable, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Instead, he knelt beside Silas, ignoring the way he wanted to shift closer to him, press their thighs together, and quietly take his hand. Catching his friend’s eye, a sad smile began to tug at his lips. “I know you didn’t do it out of malice.” He admitted. That much had been obvious from the start. “It wasn’t about that.”

He swallowed, struggling to find his words. “Look-” Turning until his whole body was facing Silas, he needed him to see he was being open, and honest. Maybe if he spoke quickly, it wouldn’t be so hard for him to talk about how he felt. “Before I became a vampire, I didn’t have friends… I had people I knew who enjoyed the same things I enjoyed. But my only real friend was a childhood friend who turned out to be a slayer. When I was killed she couldn’t look at me the same way, and now… she left town, she’s gone. Then I met Rio, someone who didn’t care what I was… who helped me so much in those first few months. We became close but he left too. The first people to stick around were Macleod, and Metzli. Then Bex… I’m surrounded by love now, but I wasn’t at first and I’m not saying I have a bunch of abandonment issues, but after Dani, my sire, and Rio… I started to think maybe there was just something inherent about me that meant people didn’t think I was worth wasting time on… like I didn’t matter, or I was just… not good enough in some way. I put myself in danger trying to keep you safe and the moment you were, you tried to leave me too. You made me feel the same way, Silas. Like there was something wrong with me- like you didn’t think I was worth it.” Blinking tears out of his eyes, he was frustrated to realise he hadn’t even noticed them forming.

Falling silent, he could see Silas was finding the strength to speak again, and he patiently waited for him to gather the courage. Using the pause to collect himself, he hurried to brush away his tears. “I…” All of his own hurt seemed to leave him at once, and found he could only focus on how Silas was hurting, his mind running through the various ways he might be able to ease the zombie’s pain. “You had a complicated relationship, Silas. You’re allowed to grieve... You’re allowed to be conflicted. I think that’s just how these things work.” Feeling his heart flutter in his chest again, it was such a strange sensation. A reminder of how much he had come to care for the zombie in such a short space of time. Nobody had ever elicited such a response from him before, and although it was terrifying, it felt like a new drug. Reaching out to take Silas’ hand, he tugged it out from under his arm, holding it in both of his own. It felt as though Silas knew exactly what he needed to hear. As though he had broken him down, analysed his doubt, and calculated the most efficient ways of addressing it. His words didn’t feel like a burden. Quite the opposite. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but he wanted to be that something. He wanted to be the ‘best thing’ in somebody’s eyes. “I’m not trying to put a weight on you…” He murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He was taking a chance, going against all of his instincts to protect himself. Even so he couldn’t stop the words from escaping him. “But how about more than a friend?”

—

“Intracardiac injection,” Silas corrected gently, tapping two fingers over his heart. Glancing up at Milo’s confession, his expression softened. “Well, y’don’t need worry about that with me, yeah? You’re safe. Just gotta… figure out the exact angle to go in at to get beneath the ribs. Seller gave me a quick rundown, but yeah. We’ll sort it out. Mine, uh, goes here,” he explained quickly, pointing at the base of his skull.

The guilt he felt as Milo explained his perspective was immense, so much so that he couldn’t immediately think of what to say. There was no excuse, really—sure, he hadn’t meant to make Milo feel that way, but he had, and it hurt. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean—it’s not you, I—” Noticing the tears that had formed in his friend’s eyes, he stopped trying to explain it, stopped trying to tell Milo he was wrong. “There’s nothin’ wrong with you, Milo. Nothin’ at all. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Though he couldn’t feel Milo’s touch as distinctly as he’d have liked, the pain of it all seemed to subside when the vampire took his hand. He’d been validated for once, and he couldn’t begin to thank him enough for that. The soft smile that’d appeared on his lips turned a little incredulous when his friend continued to speak, asking if he wanted to…

Wait.

Dumbfounded, Silas took a moment to respond. No one had wanted that from him before. His initial reaction was to ask Milo if he was sure, but he stifled the question before it could form on his tongue. Don’t fuck this up, he warned himself, just run with it.

“Yeah, I… yeah, I’d like that.” His grin had returned, body language changing entirely as he unfurled and opened up to drag Milo in, free hand grasping at one of his wrists to give it a gentle tug. Their lips met in the middle, and Silas felt a quick hit of dopamine flood his system. For the first time in a week, he was able to forget about everything he’d endured, because all that mattered was this moment, right now. “Hey,” he hummed, pulling back just enough to speak after a few more beats, “hey, I wanna make you feel good, ‘kay? I wanna,” another kiss, “feel good with you. Forget everything ‘cept you. C’mere.” One hand reached for the little tin he’d brought along with the syringes, holding it between their chests while he flicked it open and plucked one pill free. He held Milo’s gaze with heavy-lidded eyes as he popped it in his mouth, then reached for another to press it lightly against the vampire’s lips.

—

Milo remembered reading about intracardiac injection way back when he still enjoyed studying his dad’s medical journals. He had never heard of a recreational drug being administered in such a way but he supposed that was testament to how much his body had changed. When Silas tapped the base of his skull, he nodded, lost in thought as he ran over the safest and most reliable injection points. “I think I can help with that.” He admitted. “Maybe… I mean- I’ve read about how to find the heart with a needle. I’m not sure about the base of the skull though… are you aiming for the brain?” He figured the seller had probably given Silas enough information to successfully achieve a high, but it didn’t hurt to ask for clarification. They were in this together, after all. Distracted by the sudden shift in his friend’s tone, he faltered, his attention drawn back to how serious their discussion was. They could hide behind talk of substance abuse, and achieving highs, but Silas was here to apologise for something dark. Something heavy, and painful that had consumed the majority of his life. Feeling a crushing wave of relief when he was told there was nothing wrong with him, he realised how desperate he had been to hear those words. It was almost pathetic, how badly he was affected by the sentiment. Apparently it was something he needed to hear Silas say, and possibly it was something Silas needed to hear in return. “There’s nothing wrong with you either…” He murmured. “None of this is your fault, please don’t ever think it is…”

Watching quietly as the zombie processed his words, processed the risk he was taking and how readily he had opened himself up to rejection, he was so sure he was about to be laughed at that he almost withdrew his hands. But after a few moments passed, moments that no doubt felt far longer than they really were, he found himself grateful that he hadn’t moved away. The grin that lit up Silas’ face in response to his hesitant question was impossible to misunderstand, and the words that followed it even more so. Exhaling the breath he hadn’t intended to hold, he allowed himself to be dragged forward, kissing Silas back with perhaps more enthusiasm than he had initially planned. Nobody had ever wanted more from him like this. Nobody had ever seen him as somebody romantic, somebody with depth, somebody to know, and care for, and love. Humming quietly, volunteering for whatever Silas might have in mind, he only broke away when he was forced to. Recognising the two pills presented to him as Ecstasy, he repressed a smile as one was balanced carefully on his bottom lip. Catching it with his tongue, he swallowed hurriedly, wanting more than anything to kiss Silas again.

—

Fifteen minutes. That’s how long it took for the pills to dissolve and spread their magic midas touch over every inch of their bodies, and that’s about how long the boys had before it became too difficult to focus on administering the drugs in the syringes correctly. At least in Silas’ case—he was useless when he was rolling.

Nearly half that time was spent exploring Milo with his hands and mouth, relieving him of his shirt to allow cold fingertips the freedom to roam over his pale skin. Silas’ own, a sun-kissed olive when he was alive, was pallid and nearly the same hue thanks to their static hearts. Kissing down his chest after laying him back on the couch, Silas stopped over the spot where the seller had poked on his own body—the spot where, supposedly, he’d be able to reach the lower-most part of Milo’s heart. Letting his gaze flick forward to find Milo’s, the zombie gently bit his lower lip and gave the vampire a smirk. “Y’ready?” he purred, reached for the syringe that was filled with a substance that looked eerily like tomato soup. The needle was long and thin, much more so than any he’d ever seen or used.

Straddling Milo’s hips, Silas carefully removed the protective cap and tossed it back to the table, looking down at him. “... if you change your mind at any point, just say so,” he offered, not having missed the flash of anxiety in Milo’s eyes when he’d first pulled out the drugs. “M’fine just rollin’ with ya for the night.” The zombie chuckled. “In more ways than one.” Leaning down, one eye closed like he was lining up a golf tee, the zombie traced the path of entry with his eyes just as the dealer had shown him. “Straight shot for the myocardium of the apex, which is right abooouuuut… here.” He tapped lightly over the vampire’s ribs where his heart would be, looking to Milo for affirmation. Moreso that he still wanted this, less that Silas was pointing at the right spot. He was, after all, a little more intimately familiar with human anatomy, having reduced that stranger to nothing but a grease and blood stain on the floor.

—

Milo understood they were on a time limit, but he couldn’t stop himself from encouraging Silas. Kissing him back, allowing him to remove his shirt, he didn’t feel vulnerable, or exposed. Everything fell into place when he was with the zombie, and the hurt he had caused was already in the past. It didn’t matter anymore, what mattered was the fact that Silas saw him as a reason to stay. It was the opposite of everything he had feared, which undeniably spurred him on. Stumbling over his feet as they stood, navigating a path to the couch, he clambered onto it, pulling Silas down towards him as he fell back against the cushions. Cool lips trailing down his chest, when Silas placed a gentle kiss directly over his heart, he faltered, realising he was considering the information he had been given. Catching his gaze, he smiled too, pouring all of his trust, and affection into his expression. “I’m ready.” His voice was embarrassingly breathless, both with longing, and anticipation. Shifting as the zombie moved to straddle him, his hand absentmindedly traced the length of Silas’ waistband. It was only as the needle was presented, this time without the safety cap, that he even noticed the colour of the contents. It wasn’t appealing, but not many drugs were. Nobody bought them because of their aesthetic.

Looking up at Silas, he felt small from his new vantage point, but not necessarily in a bad way. This was the first time he had been at the mercy of another person since the night he was killed. Even through his hazy memories he could see his Sire hovering over him, needle in hand. He had consented then, and it had proven to be a mistake. But regardless of what Silas believed, he was a good person. He knew with every cell of his being that he wasn’t in danger. “I’m not going to change my mind.” He whispered. He didn’t want to go back on his word for so many reasons. Silas wanted to do this, the drugs were an apology, a way for them to heal, and bond, and forgive each other after everything that had been said. But he was also chasing a feeling he had nearly forgotten, one that he missed sometimes when he was alone; the rush of a beating heart, the warmth of blood pumping steadily through his veins. Grinning at the sight of Silas closing one eye, he repressed a laugh in an attempt to keep his chest still. “You don’t need to be so dramatic about it.” He insisted. Watching to see where he had decided the best place to insert the needle was, he raised his eyebrows, unable to help feeling a little surprised. “I’m impressed.” He admitted. Not many people would guess correctly during their first attempt. “You need a 30 to 45 degree angle… aim the needle towards my left shoulder.”

—

“Drama’s my middle name. But, thanks. I do my best.” Smirking, the zombie was appreciative of the follow-up tip, as it was the next thing he was going to ask. “Righto, cap’n,” Silas muttered, getting into position. “Now, you might feel a little prick, some light pressure…” He was being facetious, but in a lighthearted way that begged them both to leave all their baggage at the door. Even if drama was his middle name, he could do without it for a few hours. The smile slowly faded from his face as he concentrated on what he was doing, carefully inserting the needle into Milo’s skin beneath his ribcage. Picturing the vampire’s guts in a 3D space wasn’t exactly easy, but with slow, measured movements, Silas appeared to be just capable enough to deliver the dose.

Retreating once the syringe had been emptied, the zombie pressed a kiss to Milo’s lips and gave him the space to sit back up. Swapping the empty one out for the reanimator, Silas pulled the cap off of that one, too. “Okay, so… you’re aiming for the Medulla,” he explained, rubbing one fingertip against the back of his neck, near where his spine ended and his skull began. “Don’t think you’re gonna be able to get there without some significant resistance, but don’t sweat it. Just jam ‘er on in once you get it lined up, dead center. It’ll barely feel like a tickle.” The fact was bittersweet: helpful in this case, but a real bitch when he just wanted to enjoy the physical touch of another person. “Just, uh, make a quick exit. We’re on the clock.”

—

Rolling his eyes, Milo made it clear he was amused by the comments. It was far easier to focus on Silas than it was to focus on what Silas was about to do. Everything in him that remembered what it was like to be breakable was telling him to stop. A needle in his heart might be one of his more reckless endeavours, but he pointedly ignored his instincts. They were leftover from his time as a human, still not fully adjusted to the resilience of his new body. His heart had stopped a long time ago, now. It would take far more than a needle to properly kill him. “Okay, okay- we’re not roleplaying doctor and patient here.” He muttered, using the breath he had left in his lungs. Grinning up at Silas, he recognised the level of concentration on his face as his cue to remain still, and fell silent again, bracing himself for the pain. He wasn’t squeamish, but he didn’t want to look down at the progress so he closed his eyes instead, a frown creasing his brow as a sharp pinch caused a wave of discomfort to radiate outwards from his chest. It was such an alien sensation, feeling the needle enter his heart. Part of him wondered whether it was in his head, but regardless of it being real or imagined, he definitely didn’t enjoy it. He counted to ten, distracting himself from the warmth leaching into his lungs. He needed to stay alert and present for Silas. He had helped more than one person shoot up after doing so himself. Even with the unpredictable nature of this high, he knew he was more than capable. Opening his eyes the moment he felt the pressure on his chest dissipate, he was happy to kiss Silas back. As the zombie broke away, moving so that he could sit upright, he eyed the empty syringe in his hands. His fingertips were already tingling from the Carmilla, or the Ecstacy. He didn’t need the reminder to be fast.

Scrambling to right himself, he felt something akin to headrush, and hurried to take the remaining needle. Listening intently to what Silas was telling him, he thought back on every diagram he had ever memorised, every paragraph of information he had ever read that might help him now. “The Medulla.” He echoed. “Got it.” Wrinkling his nose at the mention of resistance, he took comfort in the fact that Silas couldn’t feel a lot of pain. At least he didn’t need to worry about hurting him. “Turn around,” he instructed softly, guiding the zombie with his free hand until Silas was facing away from him. Both huddled on the sofa, they probably looked a little unhinged, but if anything that spurred him on. What they were doing was wild, and exciting. He lived for the rush, he lived for doing things, and feeling things other people were too afraid to try. With Silas’ hair already in a knot, he only had to brush away the few strands that had fallen loose. Resisting the urge to be gentle, and affectionate, they didn’t have time to indulge in each other. He wanted to press his lips against the soft exposed skin, to run his fingers through his hair, and enjoy the vulnerability Silas was trusting him with. But he couldn’t. Calling up images in his mind of coloured charts, and illustrations that highlighted the Medulla, he placed the tip of the needle down, angling it towards the base of the brain, and immediately began to apply pressure. Silas was right, there was resistance, and it felt so wrong to fight against it. But he continued to push, inserting the metal rod millimetre by millimetre, stopping not when the entire needle had disappeared, but when he felt sure he had reached the lowest part of the brainstem. “Okay- here goes…” He murmured, for Silas’ benefit but also his own. It was his way of staying present in the moment, of telling himself he was in control. As he depressed the syringe, he could feel himself growing lightheaded, and realised he had completed his task with barely enough time to spare. Withdrawing the needle, brushing his thumb across the point of the injection to catch a drop of blood, he realised he had no urge to taste it. Even with blood that felt unappealing there was a degree of curiosity. But that curiosity was gone. “How- how do you feel?” He asked, setting the needle down so that he could use his hands, encouraging Silas to turn back and face him. “Are you okay?”

—

Silas’ thoughts were becoming increasingly flighty the more time passed, dancing from one thing to the next in a blissfully carefree sort of way. A lazy, lopsided smile had appeared on his face as he turned himself away from Milo, head bent slightly downward to give him easier access. His head began to pleasantly swim, and the urge to rock forward was barely suppressed by the light pressure of the needle entering his head. It hardly registered, at least until it came time to push past bone. Even that, while disturbingly violent in the context of an injection, hardly phased him. There was a little crunching sound that bounced around his skull and a much stronger pressure, but pain was nonexistent. Lucky him.

Brows furrowed, the zombie let out a nervous laugh. The sensation of heat spreading from the back of his head to the front was more unnerving than the sound of the rod puncturing bone had been, but still, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Feel weird,” he snickered, allowing himself to be turned to face Milo again. “But yeah… yeah. Real good.” The ever-present smile was one that would be hard pressed to leave, ushered in by the all-over warm, fuzzy feeling the ecstasy provided. And wouldn’t you know it… a heartbeat. Silas was almost surprised by how quickly the reanimator had taken effect, but it made sense. Injected directly into the brain, of course it’d be fast. “Fuck,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. His dark eyes lifted to meet Milo’s, one hand grasping at his arm, mindlessly squeezing it at steady intervals. He could feel his heart beating behind his ribs, he could feel Milo’s soft skin beneath his hand, he could feel the warmth that they both radiated… “Fuck.” The expletive was delivered with an unabashedly delighted grin, and it was a few more seconds before the zombie had the presence of mind to ask the same. “What about you?”

—

A hesitant smile tugging at Milo’s lips, he realised with a start that the warmth he had felt flooding his chest was moving outwards towards the rest of his body. If Silas was feeling anything similar then he was right to describe it as weird. A breathless laugh escaping him, he watched as the zombie focused on the new sensations that were taking over, allowing himself to finally do the same. His extremities were still tingling, but it was pleasant. A familiar side effect to a drug he knew all too well. His smile growing as Silas cursed, the wonder, and exhilaration in his voice was endlessly endearing. Copying his friend’s action, he placed a hand over his own heart, and was startled to feel the regular rhythm of a pulse just below his fingertips. “Fuck…” He echoed, eyes widening in response. It was something he thought he was never going to feel again. Something Silas had gifted him. Shaking his head in disbelief, he laughed, unable to help himself. This time the sound was easy. Waves of euphoria were beginning to crash over him, but the Ecstasy was only exaggerating his happiness. The cause of it was beating inside his chest, making his body feel alive with energy. The cause of it was also sitting opposite him, an expression of unfiltered joy causing him to glow in a way he had never seen before.

“I feel… hot.” He admitted sheepishly. Unused to body warmth, he was only now beginning to understand how much he missed the natural comfort that came with it. Abandoning his heart, he reached to take the hand Silas had resting against his arm, curious to know what Silas could feel, whether his pain receptors had been affected by the Reanimator. Raising it, he pressed an experimental kiss against his palm, heat rushing to his face in the way it used to when something made him blush. “Did you feel that?” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He simultaneously wanted to jump, and shout. Make noise, push his body to its limit. And take his time, being quiet, and slow. Let every minute detail of the experience become all-encompassing.

—

The addictive nature of the reanimator suddenly made sense to Silas as Milo pressed his lips to his palm. While hardly the most salacious act in the book, the shock of it made his breath hitch in his throat. Because— “Yeah,” he gulped, eyelids fluttering. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah, I—” Words weren’t enough, so Silas closed the small distance between them yet again to catch Milo in a fervent kiss, and he couldn’t help but moan against the other’s mouth.

What the fuck, how was he supposed to go back to normal after this?

Every last bit of him ached to be touched, and he simultaneously felt like he wanted to run a goddamn marathon and burrito himself in the softest blanket he could find. Ringed fingers plunged into Milo’s hair, tugging gently at the roots as he kissed him, but of course his attention span was shot to hell. Basking in all the heightened sensations that wracked his svelte frame, the zombie let his attention wander from Milo’s mouth to his jawline, leaving a line of kisses in his wake. For a moment, he nearly moved down to the other’s neck, but then remembered—faltering, Silas hovered a moment before dipping to his bare shoulder instead. His hands slipped around Milo’s waist, nails dragging gently over his skin. Heart still thundering at a rapid pace, Silas couldn’t help the way he fidgeted, constantly on the move, just… enjoying the other’s body. It was only a minute or two before the giggles started up again, and the zombie straightened up to be able to meet Milo eye to eye.

“You’re so…” Another laugh impeded the sentiment as he felt equal parts ridiculous and amused at the whole situation, speaking with a complete lack of filter, “... I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so fuckin’ glad I stole your phone.”

—

Until seeing Silas’ reaction to his lips against the palm of his hand, it had never occurred to Milo that in some ways he was incredibly lucky. He had lost so much. His beating heart, his sense of taste, his ability to get high without doubling a dose. Even though he couldn’t see his reflection, even though he couldn’t sit and watch a sunrise without a plate of uv filter glass in front of him, he could feel. What was it like to lose your sense of touch? The sense that gave so much comfort, and pleasure… Smiling as he was caught off guard by a kiss, it took a matter of seconds for him to get lost in it. He did everything he could to utilise the zombie’s heightened sensitivity, running his hands through his hair, along the curve of his neck, over his shoulders, and down the length of his spine. Forget the drugs, and the way his pulse was pounding audibly in his ears, he was high on Silas. He wanted more of Silas. He could so easily use the experience as an excuse to mourn his humanity, but it felt like a celebration of it. His heart skipped a beat as Silas moaned, and he broke away, distracted by the unexpected movement in his chest. “I’m sorry-” He rushed to apologise, laughing at himself, at the situation he had gotten himself into. “I’m just- I forgot how strong it was. My heart, I mean-” He broke off, humming quietly as his friend began to trail kisses along the line of his jaw. Noticing him falter as he reached his neck, his affection for the man suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. Here was somebody who didn’t judge him, who allowed him to be himself. In fact, Silas enjoyed who he was when he was himself. There was no worry of being told he had a problem, or being driven into a panic because his boundaries had been forgotten. Silas made mistakes, sure. But so did everyone. And if he was being entirely honest, he could understand the crushing weight of immortality. The exhaustion that came with battling a desire for blood.

Failing to suppress his laughter again, he joined Silas, despite knowing it would temporarily ruin the moment. There was so much to enjoy, they didn’t need to do everything at once, and he was giddy. He didn’t care about staying composed, he didn’t care about being clumsy, or sporadic. Apparently neither did Silas. Moving to cup his face with his hands, he used his thumbs to follow the line of his cheekbones. Given the chance to fully appreciate his beauty, he was rendered entirely speechless by it. Every opportunity he was given to connect with him tonight, every opportunity to make him feel good, he was going to take. You’re … He was drawn back to the conversation by curiosity. Was he amazing? Was he incredible? Maybe he was really fucking annoying. “Yeah?” He prompted, raising his eyebrows expectantly, a grin lighting up his expression at the mention of his stolen phone. He thought back to their first meeting, a meeting that had been chaotic, and bitter, and had ended in violence. What would that Milo say if he could see where he and Silas had eventually ended up? “Me too.” He murmured, learning forward to briefly capture his lips. “This might be a shitty thing to say, I just… do you ever think sometimes your brother tries to screw you over, but accidentally leads you to where you’re really supposed to be?”

—

He had a point. If not for Sylvain, it was entirely possible that Silas wouldn’t have met Milo. Perhaps they might have crossed paths at a bar or club, if Silas was ever able to bring himself to resume his old hobbies outside of playing a set at Dell’s and then slinking off back to his shithole apartment. “Maybe,” Silas answered with a smirk, lifting his hands to cover the backs of Milo’s, “he at least definitely did in your case.” Dunno where I’d be without you, he didn’t say. Dead, probably. Fuck that. This wasn’t about that. This was about putting that behind them, and focusing on the now.

That feeling of restlessness was settling in again, so Silas unceremoniously gathered Milo in his arms as he stood from the couch, hoisting the vampire up and bracing his arms against the backs of his thighs. “Fuck, you are warm,” the zombie laughed, beaming up at him as he moved through the apartment. It wasn’t until they were safely sprawled on the vampire’s bed that Silas spoke again, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Milo, fingers tracing patterns against his chest and stomach. It had yet to get old, just the sensation of being able to feel someone beneath his fingertips, so the skin to skin contact was more or less constant.

“Hey,” he whispered, his expression full of affection. “Hey, I just… I wanna say how much you mean to me. You’re—fuck, you’re special. You need to know that. Like, you’re the first person I’ve ever really… I mean… you get me, in more ways than one, n’ I dunno, that’s like… it means a lot to me. It means everything to me.” It was far from eloquent, but also more than he might’ve said sober. That was the thing about it, though, it compelled him to open up in a way that might’ve normally been difficult or scary, which was half the reason he’d brought the ordinary pills along with. The other half being, of course, the way even just the comforter touching his bare skin delighted him. It was the absolute epitome of a positive sensory overload.

—

Milo’s heart skipped another beat when Silas smirked, but he was ready for it this time. He grinned, quite possibly the happiest he had felt since waking up as a vampire. Letting out a yelp of surprise as the zombie suddenly shifted his weight, he linked his hands behind his head, wrapping his legs around his waist to be unceremoniously lifted from the couch. Laughing as he was carried to his bedroom, he peppered Silas’ face with kisses, pressing his lips against his neck and collarbone simply because he could. “So are you.” He insisted, tangling his fingers in the hair that had come loose from its tie. It was intoxicating, a brief glimpse into what their lives could have been if they hadn’t been targeted, and preyed upon by monsters. Jeez, things might have been normal. They might have been normal. Pushing the thought from his mind so that he could bask in the present, the second he felt his back hit the mattress, he withdrew his hands, resting them against Silas’ chest, directly over his erratically beating heart. It was enough just to be with him, to know he took pleasure in the same habits, to know that he saw something in him that he actively valued. But then Silas was speaking again, his voice gentle, dripping with affection, and he realised it was more than enough. He was warm, and alive, and Silas was making him feel things nobody else had ever made him feel. How was he supposed to process that? It was impossible to organise inside his mind.

Swallowing his emotion, it was no secret he struggled to express himself. He would much rather lash out, or stay silent than dissect his psyche and put it into words. But he needed Silas to understand, needed Silas to see his experience was shared. Whatever was taking place between them, whatever connection they had managed to form, it was reciprocated, it belonged to them both. “It means everything to me too.” He whispered, staring up at him, his eyes shining with vulnerability. “Everyone in my life- even the people who love me, they look at me like I’m not whole… like there are parts of me that I need to fix.” Remembering the leaflets Metzli had hidden in the kitchen drawer, and the most recent argument about their subject matter, his frustration wasn’t able to penetrate his high. Instead, it allowed him to focus on what made him happy, exactly why Silas meant so much to him. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken.” He admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the zombie's ear. His hand lingered, fingertips brushing the line of his jaw, and he marvelled again at how anybody so impressive could ever want him. Plain, old Milo Summers.“Thank you… for seeing me. For letting me be who I am.”

—

All he could do was smile as Milo confirmed everything he’d hoped to hear. There was a certain sadness woven into his expression—it braided itself with the chemical joy and genuine elation at having repaired the bond he would have hated losing the most, leaving the zombie feeling extremely contrasted, but in a nice way. If he could produce tears, Silas was sure he would’ve been. They were so similar in so many ways, parallels of one another, and yet Milo continued to surprise him. After his brother had died, all anyone could see was the downward spiral. Even in his happiest moments, he was reduced to little more than a tragic story, made worse by the methods he used for coping. His own parents, who he’d always suspected preferred Sylvain to him, grew distant over the years.

Hearing the other talk about needing to be ‘fixed’ struck a familiar chord, and the zombie desperately needed Milo to know that it wasn’t true.

Lifting a leg and throwing it over Milo’s thighs to straddle him for the second time that night, Silas leaned down to give him a gentle kiss, first on his lips, then his forehead. “Listen to me,” he said softly, bracing against the mattress with one hand while the other threaded through Milo’s hair, “Don’t thank me for anythin’, okay? There’s nothin’ about you that’s broken. Nothin’ that needs to be fixed. You are who you are, and I—” His eyes searched Milo’s, another little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “—I kinda love that about you.”

—

Milo realised with a start that there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. Warmth running through his body, his heart beating in his ears, and the zombie hovering over him with a gentle smile tugging at his lips… it all felt so good. Jeez, it felt better than good. He knew his elation was partially due to his high, and partially due to getting swept up in the moment, but it was also undeniably due to his company. For some reason Silas understood him, and he liked to think maybe he could understand Silas. A mischievous grin lighting up his expression as Silas moved to straddle him again, he rested his hands against his thighs, tracing patterns he knew he would be able to feel through the fabric of his jeans. Blinking fresh tears out of his eyes as a kiss was placed against his forehead, it was an affectionate gesture. One you would never make if you were being driven solely by drugs, or by lust. It was further proof to him that Silas meant what he was saying, further proof that this connection wasn’t a figment of his imagination. “I am listening to you.” He murmured, carefully removing his glasses. He dropped them to the floor beside his bed, eager to take them off and avoid the frames pressing into his cheeks. The more passionate the kiss, the more of an obstacle they seemed to become, and things were about to get very passionate.

#. para ;#. para ; more than a friend #. with ; m. summers #medical blood tw #addiction tw #drug tw

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drowningisinevitable-retired · 3 years

Text

There’s Shroom For All || Group

TIMING: Current, late evening PARTIES: @evebrennan, @detectivedreameater, @shroomsbysolomon @deathisanartmetzli @riseofmurphy @drowningisinevitable SUMMARY: It’s mushroom szn, babeyyyyyy CONTENT: Drug use (mushroom ring), drug manipulation, Lydia plot mentions

It was the last major ring of the season, which meant that the celebration was in full swing. The night was well underway, and yet it was not dark, the glow from various creatures and people and lights keeping the area lit and warm in spite of the autumn chill. It was a time of celebration. It was a time of revelry. It was a time of togetherness, of bond making. The last ring was always special, and many fae had come from all over to experience it. Some came from New Hampshire, Vermont, Canada, even, the allure of White Crest’s sense of fae community drawing them.

The mushroom ring itself was giant, and there were plenty of people already inside, laughing and talking and laughing some more, drunk and high off all kinds of feelings. Glamours were, for the most part, gone, washed away as if the moonlight had dripped onto them, horns and leaves and fur and antlers and a variety of other inhuman features out and proud for all to see. After all, what did they care of humanity? The humans here were well under the circle’s thrall as soon as they stepped into it, bound to whoever had been lucky enough to step across it with them. There were drinks. There was revelry. There was life. All who entered the mushroom ring were bound to enjoy it, whether they wanted to or not. Such was the way of the mushroom ring.

Mina was overwhelmed. There were a lot of people, many of whom were in the nude, many of whom weren’t, but all of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was a lot. It was almost too much. Even Mina’s ears had been able to pick up the sounds of merriment and noise making that was coming from in the woods when she and Caoimhe had parked, and there were so many people, and she wrung her hands, trying to get rid of some of the nerves. She had a lot of nerves recently. Mina was practically vibrating with them. “This looks..” she said quietly, pausing, like a lot, “like a lot.”

Metzli didn’t realize what they had stumbled upon on their run. They had expected to see strange things. It was White Crest after all. But…people, faes and humans in the nude? Glamour down, and everything revealed? That was a total surprise. The only thing stranger was that it was so bright that it felt like day. And that made Metzli almost scramble for cover until they looked back up and saw the moon.

Without thinking, feet walked towards it, as if they were being beckoned forward. Metzli didn’t mind once they were aware, and they continued forward. A distraction was a distraction. But just as they were about to step over the boundary, two familiar scents registered, and they looked around. Mina and Caoimhe had to be nearby, but they couldn’t see them. They didn’t bother to look very hard. Whatever was happening in the ring was far more interesting.

The day had been spent in quiet contemplation, mushroom-dotted back leaned against the Tree’s trunk, opposite the offering he had brought that morning. As the sun began to set, a new sound struck up—one that was not the typical orchestra of the forest. Curious, Solomon got to his feet and pressed a hand to the trunk as if to say goodbye, then wandered off into the twilight. Dusk turned to night as he lumbered along, heavy footfalls thumping, thudding, crushing dead leaves and abandoned twigs that had fallen from his cousins’ tops. The sound, so strange at first, became somewhat familiar. Voices, many voices. Music, laughter… gaiety. Interest piqued even further, the leshy did not feel compelled to activate his glamour, instead following the lights until he stepped directly into the large clearing where all the fae were gathered. Towering over many of them, the nymph hung back, overwhelmed by the sheer number of them. He’d been to one gathering like this before, but this one was even larger and louder. Masked eyes were drawn to the ring of mushrooms that sprouted from the ground, and joy sparked in his chest. He watched, delighted, as people of all types stepped carefully over the boundary to enjoy what he now knew was an extremely intoxicating experience. Perhaps this was some small part of his reward, after all?

It was so much. Caoimhe could hardly remember the last time she’d seen anything like it; it had to be Ireland. If this were years ago and her mother had been there, there would’ve been a human somewhere with a violin, giving the best performance of their lives. And as much time as Caoimhe had spent running, it had never been this. The community, the fun. The feeling as though, no matter how far she went, there would always be something like family to fall right back into, given the right circumstances.

The right circumstances happened to be one doozy of a mushroom circle. Caoimhe was nearly bouncing on her feet as they approached, so excited for something so familiar and fun she almost missed the nervous buzzing beside her. It wasn’t until Mina spoke up that Caoimhe looked over, finally pausing at the way she was twisting her hands together.

“Hm, it is, but...you’re not alone.” It was almost, almost, the best part. She glanced over at the circle, at the fae and others laughing and dancing inside. “If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to step in. That’s an option, okay? But we’re here, and it’ll be fun, if we do.”

They didn’t have to go in. Right. Okay. This was okay. Mina was okay. She was totally okay with this. And, really, she wanted to go in. Or, at least, she was telling herself that she wanted to go in. Mina wanted to have fun. She’d been a little starved for it for most of her life, really, the concept of fun. And the last time she’d walked into a ring hadn’t been bad. It’d actually been alright, despite the fact that she’d almost killed a werewolf and ended up with the worst tattoo in the most embarrassing place. But she’d be aware this time! It’d be okay. She was going to be aware, and she was going to be careful, and she was going to have fun. “I want to do this,” Mina said, and her voice sounded a lot more sure than she was in all actuality. She wanted to do this. She wanted… to understand what she’d been missing out on for most of her life. If this was something that was a part of who she was, then Mina wanted it. “I do. I… don’t have to get undressed, do I? Because I– I don’t think I want to do that.”

Marley was nonplussed when the disturbance call came in, but she was the only officer on duty who could go check it out, and that was how she'd ended up standing outside a mushroom ring of all things, in the middle of the woods. Great. This wasn't a problem she could deal with, but it also wasn't a problem that was going to solve itself. As far out in the woods as this was, it was the elderly couple in the cabin a few miles back that had called it in, complaining about noise and "some sorta disco orgy" in the woods weren't going away. Marley rubbed the bridge of her nose and she stood back, trying to decide what best to do here. She could probably easily put the old couple to sleep and let the fae have their festivities-- who was she to interrupt?-- but for some reason, her feet wouldn't move. She just kept staring.

Finally, as she tried to move back, she bumped into a woman with a rather nervous looking girl next to her. "Fuck, sorry," she mumbled, fumbling to put her glasses back on.

Foot stepped over the ring and there was a strange feeling immediately. Like a tether was attaching itself to them and grew taut too fast. It was dizzying, it was confusing, it was…something Metzli paid no mind to as soon as a new distraction appeared in front of them. Everyone was just connected and inebriated in a way they had never experienced. Even clubs in the seventies weren’t as crazy as what they saw. It was too much then, and it was too much now. They stumbled back, put their hood on, and shut their eyes tightly to readjust themselves. Metzli hadn’t even noticed that Mina was directly behind her until they scowled down at whoever ran into them.

“Mina? Caoimhe?” Their face was covered by the shadows of their hood for only a moment. The lights from inside the ring were too powerful to keep their face hidden. The hood was more for their comfort anyway. Then just as jarring, another familiar face registered. “Marley?”

“No.” Caoimhe laughed, though it was a fair question. She couldn’t speak for anything that might happen once they crossed into the circle, she could only hope that Mina had some fun with it. That was the point, after all. “Just...deep breath, you only have to do what you want to do. If you need to leave, ju– oh!”

A woman bumped into her, decidedly not fae in an area swimming with fae. Caoimhe wondered at the look on the woman’s face, how it looked a little like how she felt. There was something magnetic about the circle, there always was. It was hard to say no once she was standing right beside it. There were humans in the circle, of course, there was something to be had for everyone. Some may have even gone in of their own accord, others–

“How dare you.” She grinned, tone light, crooking a thumb over her shoulder. There was a tree in the clearing; the woman was out of place. Caoimhe kind of wanted to keep her there. “You here for this?”

She glanced sidelong at Metzli of all people, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. They seemed to be everywhere. “Well, it’s really a party now, isn’t it.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. Seemed everyone knew each other, but the only person Marley recognized was Metzli and she wasn't eager to run into a vigilante cohort in the middle of the woods. "I was just leaving, actually," she grumbled, glaring over at the vampire, "and you should be, too." Did they not know what being in a mushroom circle did? Marley only knew because of-- well, she really didn't wanna think about her right now. She shook her head and slid her glasses on and pocketed her hands. "Just try and keep it down," she mumbled, knowing it was of no use to suggest. She glanced at the younger girl. "Don't do anything stupid," she added on.

Finally gathering the courage to move out of the shadows at the treeline, Solomon wandered farther into the clearing. His antlers rose high into the sky, skull almost glowing white in the moonlight as he moved through the other attendees. His pace was slow and deliberate, careful not to run into (or step on) other fae as he made his way toward the ring. “Excuse me,” he breathed, his voice raking like branches on a windowpane in the heads of those nearest to him. Once at the edge of the ring, the leshy took a delicate step over it, relishing the high that immediately flooded his senses. Sinking to the earth as others moved out of his way, Solomon lowered himself into a crouch and closed his eyes, grinning to himself as he just listened to others around him enjoying themselves. He’d missed this, as much as he enjoyed the Tree’s company.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mina muttered, more to herself than to Caoimhe or the other woman or even Metzli as she looked at the ring and then all the Fae. People. Lots and lots of people. They were people. Mina could feel them, that strange bond that all Fae seemed to share thumming through her system, making her antsy. It could be a comfort if she learned how to let it She wanted to let it. She did finally cock her head to the side as she looked at Metzli. “This– I– You really probably shouldn’t be here,” she told them. Though, really, there were plenty of non-Fae around, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. The boy that Mina had entered the other ring with seemed to enjoy himself. Maybe this was something for everyone. She wished she knew more. Faerie rings weren’t exactly common knowledge, though. All Mina had ever known was to not enter them on purpose, and now she was blatantly disregarding that. She watched as a leshy lumbered forward, and she looked up at him. “You’re– Hi.” She looked back at Caoimhe. “Right. Okay. Just–” It was like jumping off a waterfall. She just had to do it. “Right.” And Mina stepped into the ring.

Caoimhe wondered at just how okay Mina looked, but watched her step through regardless. It was going to be fine. It was going to be fun. She’d come out to have a good time, but she found herself honestly invested. It was Caoimhe who’d pulled her out there, who’d suggested coming in the first place. And hell if that wasn’t disorienting. These were things she stumbled upon alone, somewhere new, somewhere that didn’t mean anything to her. None of it, none of them, were supposed to mean anything to her.

“You know.” With Mina in the ring, and with every intention of following her, Caoimhe turned to look at the only person she didn’t recognize. There was some safety in that, right? “The best way to make sure none of us do anything stupid is to stay, keep an eye on us.” With her hands tucked away and only short sentences to offer, Caoimhe wondered if she should just salute and walk away. “Might actually enjoy yourself, if you’re open to it.”

When looking at Mina after she stepped into the ring, the tether from earlier pulled harder and all they wanted to do was listen to whatever she might say next. What the fuck? They disregarded this thought immediately though, and rolled their eyes at Mina. “I can be wherever I want. This looks interesting enough. This doesn’t really seem up your alley, though.” Metzli retorted with a scowl and pulled their hoodie over their head more.

Looking at Marley, they flipped her off and stuck out their tongue. “Listen, you should live a little. Heard these things are fun. Besides, you heard her, with me, it’s a party now.” Metzli grinned and waved Marley over. “Caoimhe is right. She’s pretty smart. You should listen to her.”

The light was what had initially peaked Murphy’s interest as paws padded silently across the forest floor. Triangular ears were pricked forward, nose high in the air as she stalked towards the weird sensation. For a moment the wolf had considered turning back, something in the air seemed to warn against the way forward. And perhaps she would have, had she not come across a familiar scent. Metzli. At that point worry over took instinct, and so she crouched ever closer to the ground, the white of her coat helped her to blend into the brightness the closer she came. Once she finally came to the source, Murphy felt her hackles rise. Every inch of fur stood on end as she took in the scene; human and fae nude and unhidden in euphoria under the light of day that somehow seemed to permeate despite the moon high in the sky.

A conglomerate of scents took root within Murphy’s snout, and just as the intrigued animal prepared to step into the mess, it paused. A warning had loomed high in the wolf’s mind, of a phenomena it had heard of but never seen. It took a step back, only to feel something, perhaps someone, bump into it. That small movement was enough to tumble Murphy into the false daylight, her shift abruptly ending as her physical body joined the chaos. Nude, green hues took in everything around her, before they rested on the person responsible for her indoctrination. “Son of a bitch.”

Marley watched the young girl step over the line and realized she, too, must be fae. Her eyes went back to the older woman, who was trying to coax her into going in as well, playing at her responsibility to keep others safe. It was her job, she supposed… and it was easier to keep people out of trouble if she stuck around. Logically, Marley knew going into a fairy ring was a bad idea. But at the moment? She felt like she didn't care. Something was pulling her towards it, and something was pulling her towards the woman. "You seem familiar," she said to Caoimhe, "have we met?" Moving closer to her, closer to the ring. There was no harm in sticking around for a little bit, right?

She shot a glare over at Metzli, but didn't respond. "You do this often?" She asked Caoimhe instead.

This felt a lot different than when Mina had stepped into a mushroom ring. Which to be fair, that ring was back in February, and, now that she thought about it, probably not nearly as potent. This, though. It was so much and everything and nothing at all, and Mina felt like she had all the control in the world and none at all. Like she’d given up control of herself in favor with a connection to the world that she’d never thought possible. And her pupils were dilated, and she felt like she’d had too much caffeine and something warm and wonderful. And maybe that was why everyone was taking their clothes off; because, despite the autumn chill, she was beginning to feel warm, uncomfortably warm. She thought about taking her clothes off. She wasn’t going to take her clothes off. Instead, she stumbled back over to Caoimhe and Metzli and the leshy and the other woman, and there was someone else that had just stumbled out of the brush, and that was fine, and everything was fine, and everything felt electrified, and Mina didn’t know what to do. She would have asked Caoimhe if it was supposed to feel like this, but she was busy, so she looked at Metzli instead, looking up at them and cocking her head as she asked, “What does it feel like to you?”

Wherever her eyes landed, it was not the true source of whoever had pushed Murphy into the ring. Instead, all she would find was a root protruding from the earth, waving at her like a hand before it slithered back into the dirt. To her left Solomon still rested in his squat, watching the werewolf with an amused glimmer in his golden eyes. “Thought you could use a little… push,” he explained in his deep, rumbling voice. “Welcome. I do not have a mother, but if I did, I bet she would have been a bitch.” Sitting up, Solomon held out a massive hand to her. “Lily,” he said, giving his false name, “and try not to overthink it. Just… have fun.”

“Hey!” Finger guns felt a touch juvenile, but Caoimhe still threw a grin Metzli’s direction. She wasn’t necessarily on a mission to force anyone into the circle, but she was flattered nonetheless. “Metzli is pretty smart themselves, you should listen to them.”

But it didn’t seem like much more was needed. The woman took a step closer, and Caoimhe could almost feel the edge of the ring, how many steps she’d need to get them through. There was always a feeling of breathlessness just before, anticipation blending with nerves and excitement in the perfect way. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She offered a hand, “I’m Caoimhe, and...no, not necessarily. Once a year, if I’m in the right place at the right time.” She took a step towards the line of mushrooms, “Sticking around?” And she stepped through.

Turning to face Mina again, Metzli blinked several times and a euphoric weight began to settle. Skin vibrated and everything began to hum and buzz. A smile tugged at their lips and they had to touch their face to feel it, make sure it was actually there. What they felt was akin to an out of body experience, but they could see everything in a way they hadn’t before. “I feel…free. But also like…my clothes are constricting.” The tether grew stronger again and they stepped closer to Mina, pupils dilated and boring into her.

Sight buzzed in a similar fashion to their skin and they let out a shaky breath that they didn’t even need. “How do you feel?” Metzli wanted to know, needed to know. They didn’t even look at Mina as they asked, their focus waning and bouncing from Marley, to Caoimhe, to the giant tree, and then to Murphy. Murphy? Thoughts were too fast though, and they looked back at Mina. Eyes were red now, letting themselves go slowly.

Green hues glowered in the direction of the looming fae. Though their body was in a crouch, they still rested above Murphy. “You might not be the son of one, but you certainly are one.” Though she felt the ire from being thrust into a situation she was not comfortable with, and did not want, it was clouded by the music and gaiety around her. Despite her desire to be angry, to round on the fae she now faced, her body took things into its own hands and pushed a giggle forth from her mouth. It was such an un-murphy-ish sound that her eyes widened in shock. “Lily,” The name rolled over her tongue lavishly. The fae were truly a sight to behold without their glamour; beautiful, unique, powerful. Everything that seemed to be the very embodiment of nature, and this one was no different.

With another giggle Murphy bounded in their direction, her feet hitting the soft earth with enough speed and force that the dirt beneath her path flung out from all directions until she was situated directly in front of the fae responsible for her predicament. Lily. Instinctively, prompted by the freeing music and warmth that enveloped her, she reached out to delicately touch a horn. Almost as soon as her fingers had made reverent contact they were pulled back and a squeal of delight parted from between full lips. “I guess since you thought I needed a push that must also mean that you’re responsible for showing me a good time.”

“It’s really warm,” Mina said, and, yes, it was definitely very warm. And free. She didn’t know if free was the right word. She felt like she was falling and there was a pool of water below her, so she knew everything would be okay, but there was still that sense of falling. She was still falling. It was a good kind of fall, though, exhilarating, reminding her of the first time that Bex had kissed her in the parking lot of the Stacked Deck, and she hadn’t been able to think then, and she wasn’t really able to think now. “I feel– I feel like– You’re very close, can you step back, please?” And then she was laughing because, really, they were right. Free. She’d never felt this free, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She wanted to enjoy it. She wanted to fully experience it. She… wanted Bex. But not to be there because the non-Fae all seemed to have a strange look in their eyes, and Metzli now had a strange look in their bright red eyes, and there was a very, very tiny part of Mina that worried that look wasn’t a good thing, and maybe Bex shouldn’t experience it. But this was still fun! And she wanted to have fun! And Mina was having fun!

Marley glanced around before her eyes landed back on the woman. Caoimhe. Quite the name. It was a nice name. Marley watched her step into the ring and felt that something familiar again, but everyone around her was stepping in, and they were all laughing and happy and didn't Marley deserve that? No, she didn't think so. But she wanted it. And that was enough. She took the last step forward and into the ring and reached for the other woman's hand as she did. Something more tugged. She felt it inside her like a rush. As is she'd just consumed a fear that was greater than any other. It filled her up and made her arms tingle and she did something she never did-- she smiled. "Wow," she breathed, "does it always feel like this?"

Her anger fell on deaf ears—or rather, ones that did not comprehend the insult. The attitude was quick to fade, of course, once Solomon bade her a jolly evening. Almost immediately, her mood perked up and she came hurrying over, drawing a delighted laugh from the leshy. His head tilted into her brief touch, a hum following quickly on the coattails of her laughter. “A good time? Of course, of course… though I would argue, simply being here is a good time.” He breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up at the sky. “You know,” the leshy added thoughtfully, “I can think of something that is a very good time that you could help me with! But that would require leaving here, and I would like to… to stay a little while longer…” Pushing his hands into the dirt, he willed the sprouting of a ring of flowers, and as they grew taller, they began to intertwine into a circle. Once they’d fully bloomed, it was easy to pluck them all free of their stems at the same time and lift the little crown of flowers up to place it gingerly on the wolf’s head. “Cute. It suits you.”

Step back, please. “Yes, I can.” Metzli replied and obeyed with no retaliation. The tether was tighter and it demanded to be felt. It demanded that they stayed close. As close as Mina would let them. The feeling to want to listen was infuriating and against everything that made up their being. But that was quickly overshadowed by the sheer amount of warmth they felt. Mina was right. It was so warm. And without thinking, if it was even possible to think at that point, Metzli removed their hoodie and threw it to the side. As always, they had a binder on.

“I feel really good. Really weird, but good. My body is shaking. But…I’m not scared. I’m excited.” Metzli chuckled and paced around, running their hands through their hair and tugging. It felt good to do so. They needed to do more. They needed to act on all of the impulses they had. But there were too many to pick from, so they had to just settle for standing in one place until something moved them.

It still took Caoimhe a little by surprise every time, no matter how many times she stepped into a circle. That warm giddy feeling, the way it started in her chest and spread until she couldn’t stop smiling. She wondered if it ever would, if one-hundred years would pass, then two, then...then she looked to the Leshy and she thought maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe this would always be a thing she could have, no matter where she ran. It was familiar but not, warm and tingly, and of course she’d keep her clothes on, but the glamour was gone after only a moment.

Her eyes found the woman who’d stepped through just behind her, and she was smiling, reaching out for her hand. Caoimhe thought she looked nice, when she wasn’t telling them to keep the noise down. And, oh, this was going to be fun. “More or less.” She rocked back on her heels, pulling in a breath, “Like warm and exciting and–” And words, Caoimhe couldn’t find them. “It’ll be fun. We’re going to have fun, uh…you know, I never did catch your name. Just! Just your first name.”

Marley stared, eyes wide. She remembered why this was familiar, eyes stuck at the woman's glamour dropped. She stared at her, unmoving. The gleam of her skin, the opalescent sheen of her hair, sparkling like diamonds. She remembered why this was familiar. "Lydia." The name left her throat in a breath. She remembered now. The woman, the monster, who, almost a year to the day, had given Marley something she'd never thought she could have. Marley remembered reading the newspaper, the police reports, about the woman named Lydia Griffin and what she'd done. She remembered how the woman, the monster, had convinced Marley they were the same. Had convinced Marley that she didn't need to be ashamed of what she was, who she was. The monster who had shown her a kindness and compassion and understanding no one else ever had. The monster who was cruel and kept people for herself. The monster who had loved, but was a monster all the same. The monster who showed Marley, convinced Marley, in all her undoing, that the only thing Marley would ever be was a monster, too. A monster that could love, but was a monster all the same.

"Marley," she answered as the tug inside of her demanded her to. "My name is Marley. Just Marley."

“It’s– It’s– Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s what it feels like!” Mina said, nodding quickly. “It’s weird but good and nice.” And it was also weird and good and nice the way that they listened to her almost immediately, and Metzli hardly ever listened to Mina. So that was a welcome surprise. All things about this were becoming welcome surprises, and Mina wanted to experience more of it, feel more of it. And it was nothing for her hands to become webbed and clawed, and it was nothing for her to take off her jacket and roll up her sleeves and get rid of her shoes and feel the earth underneath her feet. And this was as far as she’d go because excitement didn’t mean confidence, and Mina still had a lot of nerves, but they were happy nerves. When was the last time that she’d felt this happy without it being weighed down by stress and anxiety and fear? She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember. This felt foreign but natural, so natural, and then Mina was laughing again. “This is awesome.”

Caomhe knew that look. She’d never really needed a mushroom ring to get that look. Something tugged at the back of her mind, like she should be uncomfortable, like she should be stuffing her violin into another box, submitting a two-weeks, and leaving. But she wasn’t. She was warm and she was happy and it wasn’t like she hadn’t already known. This one, this one would go away. Eventually. This one’s name was Marley, and she had smiled, and some strings weren’t permanent, not really. “Well, just Marley. It’s a pleasure to meet you..”

This was going to be fun. It was. She looked around to find Mina, with Metzli just outside the circle. She didn’t look panicked. Everyone was accounted for, and she let herself fully settle, no room for anything else. This was going to be fun.

Metzli marveled at Mina, watching her scales form and listening to her grow enlivened. They’d seen her claws before, her scales on her arms, but never this. They’d never seen her so free of anxiety. “Whoa…” Breath hitched and their head whipped to catch Caoimhe’s glamour fall. “Holy shit…you guys—you look incredible.” Their smile continued to grow and they had to tighten and release their fists to keep themselves grounded. It was so much at once, but they didn’t want to stop experiencing it. “The stories don’t do the actual experience any justice.” Staring at everyone for only a moment longer, they walked towards Caoimhe and tapped her shoulder.

“You look incredible, Caoimhe. Amazing. Beautiful. Powerful. You—sorry.” Metzli was rambling, filled too much with energy from whatever was permeating within the circle. There was so much life. So much. Flowers blossomed and so too did everyone around them. It was like everyone was letting go and becoming one. They couldn’t wait for what was to come.

#there's shroom for all #chatzy: caoimhe brennan #chatzy: marley stryder #chatzy: solomon hawthorne #chatzy: metzli bernal #chatzy: mason murphy #drug manipulation tw #drug use tw #lydia plot tw

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