#nicsalazar

[recoveringdreamer]

@nicsalazar from here:

[pm] That's... I'm glad. Her, yeah [user still can't get herself to use the name] Your pet, no? Think the leash makes it official. Ah. Don't know about that. Can't you tell happy cry from sad cry apart?

​[pm] Yeah, she's my pet. I mean, kind of. We hang out. I think she likes me, but it's hard to tell. [.....] Not really? It all kind of looks the same.

[chasseurdeloup]

[pm] Hello This is We met in the Hey I'm Nicole. Don't remember if I Might not recognize my Got your contact from Andy, she's my best we're friends. Uh We dealt with that... snake thing. With the truths and Wanted to check in. And thank y

[pm] Oh. Hi. I'm Kaden. But you know that because you contacted me. Nevermind. Didn't know you knew Andy but good. That's good. I'm good. Are you good? Do you know Leticia? She's also a balam. Is that okay to ask? Or is that insensitive?

@nicsalazar

[notstinky]

@nicsalazar replied to your post “Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all...”:

/love pheobe bridgers

​listen.................................................

[genienotinabottle]

washed off with the rain // nicole & baz

TIMING: current-ish PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @genienotinabottle SUMMARY: baz and nicole run into a wild nuppeppō, and no one is entirely pleased about it. CONTENT: none

The arboretum near Hambry Park would always be one of Nicole’s favorite places in town. She cherished it not only for its beauty, but also for its sentimental value. She made her very first friend –her dearest friend– among those trees.

The walk to the botanical tree? Nowhere near as remarkable, however. A shiver ran down Nicole’s spine as she set foot in the cemetery. Although she wouldn't have to walk a far distance from her parking spot to the botanical garden, it wouldn't be an fun stroll. If she didn’t know better, she’d think someone planned for the cemetery to look gloomy every day. Today, it was covered in a thick dark mist, despite being surrounded by perfectly nice fall evening. 

Normally Nicole didn’t like to distract herself before making it inside the garden’s limits, but a foul smell reaching her nostrils stopped her in her tracks. She glanced down, lifting one of her boots. Maybe she had stepped— no, it was clean. So was the other boot. She considered ignoring it, a big ask actually, and just continue her walk, but a figure in her peripheral vision made her turn. 

After that, it was a case of putting two and two together. The smell, that wretched odor, was emanating from the other person in the cemetery, who had just made eye contact with her. Right? What else— Normally, Nicole would’ve kept quite. She was known to avoid conflict. She could’ve continued her journey towards the botanical garden. Except this person’s scent was… foul. Which was saying something, considering they were right by the cemetery. They could very well be ill, or worse…dead. She touched the tip of her nose, shrugging her shoulders before blurting out. “What the fuck?”

Nature walks were something Baz enjoyed more than people might expect. Most who knew them assumed they preferred the comfort of indoor life, and while they did enjoy being pampered, they’d been born in a time that was largely without most of the modern amenities people couldn’t live without now. Electricity was still a relatively new invention, and things like technology were still practically infants in the grand scheme of things. But nature? That had been around longer than Baz themself.

It always made for good inspiration, too. They’d sketched most of White Crest over the years they’d spent there, but the thing about White Crest was that it was always changing. More than usual lately, with the strange happenings about town. The fury had spent hours in the woods before moving on to the cemetery, sketching old gravestones with dates they’d been alive to experience. They were particularly distracted by their art today, carefully doodling without much care.

That was, of course, until the stench hit them.

It was an overpowering thing, heavy and putrid. Immediately, Baz’s nose wrinkled up with disgust and they shut the sketchbook quickly, as if afraid the smell might sink into the pages and make a home there. A quick glance around showed one other occupant in the cemetery, the other figure blocked from their view by the twisted branches of a nearby tree. She didn’t look like the sort of person who’d produce such a smell, but the scent was utterly undeniable. Baz made a face at her.

“You’re asking me? They do have showers here, love. You really ought to try one.”

Nicole scoffed in disbelief at their retort, even though, she had made similar assumptions. “Real funny” she grumbled, unwilling to discuss hygiene habits with this strange. All she wanted to figure out was why they smelled so awful. Though judging by the tone in their reply, she questioned if she should even care for this person’s well being.  A short dilemma, granted, as she knew better than to deal with this type of enigma all by herself. No, a team up was always the better option.

Nicole approached slowly, taking on the other person’s scent as subtly as could. It was rude to sniff, after all. Her apprehension towards them all but disappeared when she couldn’t place anything strange on them.  “Alright. So, it’s not you,” could anyone blame her for thinking it was? “And it’s not me, trust me” she added quickly, before the could interject. “So what the fuck is rotting out there? This isn’t the usual… aroma”. And maybe, if their conversation had started on a better note, she would’ve mentioned her past experiences with tomb raiding, but for time being, it was better to keep her crimes to herself. 

With the prime suspect out of the equation, Nicole began musing on other possibilities. Zombies? She vaguely knew their scent could be vile if not fed.  But she didn’t have enough experience to spot them or separate them from say, a trash bag. She paced around, eyes darting between the tall mausoleums and the tree branches that had grown alongside them. It was hard distinguishing anything immersed in the mist, but out of the corner of her eye, a shadow appeared. Covering her mouth with the inside of her elbow, she gestured to the creature. It was still partially hidden between tombs. An neglected animal, she considered, though a gut feeling strongly contradicted her thoughts. “Might be it” her voice alerted it of their presence, and instead of scurrying off like a scared animal would, it began to slowly approach them.

The fact that Baz was offended by the stranger’s assumption would come as no surprise to anyone who knew the fury. Truth be told, they had a habit of getting offended by most things. A large chunk of said offense was always for show, though. After a few centuries of living, you did learn to let things roll off you a little easier. But Baz had a reputation to uphold, and this reputation involved being utterly offended by the tiniest slight. They were very good at keeping it up.

Still, it was with curiosity rather than annoyance that they observed the woman as she stepped in closer, watching the way she subtly sniffed the air as she got close. The move proved that Baz had been telling the truth, of course, but it also allowed them to recognize that she, too, was not the source of the smell. The proximity to the stench remained unchanged even as the stranger drew nearer, a sure sign that she wasn’t the cause. “It’s not you,” they allowed begrudgingly, waving a hand in her direction. “It is an unpleasant smell, isn’t it? Certainly not the usual fare, though this town never smells heavenly.” It wasn’t even the rotting fish smell that had overtaken the town as of late. This was something new, and certainly not anything Baz wanted near them.

The woman seemed intent to figure it out, and Baz was content to trail behind her lazily as she investigated. They let her take the lead, of course. In cemeteries like this, things that went bump in the night were all too common, and Baz would much rather let a stranger be attacked than face such things themself. Before long, the pair had stumbled upon… something. It was difficult to make out what it was in the dark, though the scent was overpowering as they got closer. “I think we’ve found our prime suspect,” the fury mused, squinting at it as it approached. It was… Eugh. All right, it was horrifying. All pink and wrinkled, like one of those hideous mole rats magnified to a terrible size. And the smell! The smell was certainly the worst part. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Baz winced, “and I’ve seen multiple reality television stars the morning after a night out on the town. What is it?”

“You’d be right…” It wasn’t a hard observation to make, given the monster was now approaching them, carrying its stench along the way. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. But that was a inevitable, considering the town they lived in and the ground they stood on. Still, it was something unlike Nicole had ever seen. All wrinkles and skin folds (at least she thought it was supposed to be skin) with no real shape. Was there a real threat underneath it all? In no way did it look like it was seizing them, preparing to attack. It was difficult, she figured, to find any trace on intention in its faceless shape. Instead, the beast glided towards them as if he was meeting old friends.

“Hey! What if it can hear you? We don’t need it to be angry at us” Nicole chastised them, immediately searching for ears somewhere. In response to their second interjection, she turned around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what they were saying. “Right…” she licked her lips, wondering if reality TV stars even existed in White Crest. Townsfolk would make for a more entertaining show than any of those TV personalities. However, she had no time to think about any of it since they were standing in front of a horrible creature, and that trumped beautiful TV people. “No fucking clue,” it was an obvious answer, and Nicole took a few steps forward, closing the distance. “I don’t think it has any plans to kill us, though. It might not even see us”. She was curious, as always, about any living being in White Crest, but it seemed… she might have just encountered the most underwhelming one of them all.

“It’s just… here” just like they were, having a stroll in the cemetery. Except it was stinking up the place as it went. Having settled that this abomination posed no danger to them, Nicole turned to suggest they leave it alone. But before she could even speak, the monster flapped one of its lumpy folds, akin an arm, and tried to reach for them. Nicole shuddered, bumping into her companion as she retreated. “Shit. Sorry”.

The closer the thing came, the more disgusted Baz appeared. They did little to hide their repulsion, nose wrinkled and expression scrunched. They even let out an overdramatic gag as the creature approached, turning their head away and bringing their fingers up to pinch their nose closed. “I hope it can hear me!” They exclaimed, raising their voice to further prove the point. “Maybe it’ll take the criticism to heart and find a shower!”

Despite the stench, the woman made a good point. The creature didn’t seem particularly interested in violence, even as it continued its approach. There was no underlying threat to the nature of its trot, no reason to think it meant any harm. The worst it could do, Baz assumed, was stink up their clothes. But of course, that was a fate the fury would very much like to avoid. 

“Well, it ought to just go someplace else. Perhaps the ocean, where no one can smell it.” Levi and Marina might have taken some offense to the suggestion, but neither was here to scold Baz for it. Before they could say much else, the creature… reached for them. Baz feld the woman bump into their arm as she scrambled back, and they followed suit, placing themself firmly behind her. If one of them was going to be eaten by this thing, it certainly wouldn’t be Baz. “Do something about it! God, if it touches me, I’ll burn this stupid cemetery to the ground.” 

Even if it could hear them, Nicole doubted this pile of gooey flesh had any sort of grooming habits. Disgusting, sure, but probably not by choice. What did she know, really? Maybe its whole purpose was to cause olfactory distress. Upon better inspection, it became evident that it was in fact, made out of real flesh. Her face wrinkled, new thoughts spinning in her head. How the fuck did this came to be?

Nicole held her hands up defensively, putting space between the creature and her. She had to give the stranger some credit for their conclusion, though. Not that she’d voice it out loud. It was possible, considering how everything in town was turned upside down, that it had been displaced from its natural habitat. Whatever good will they won with their assessment, however, was quickly lost as they stood behind her demanding things from her.

“Why do I have to do anything? You’ve hands too, no?” Nicole pushed, forcing them to keep stepping backwards. The further from the creature’s saggy, rotting arm, the better. The idea of arson made her scoff. She had enough experience with that to let it happen. “You’re a little dramatic aren’t you?” the lump of flesh continued to move, unaware of the fright it was inflicting. “Why do we have to do anything?” she muttered after a beat. Turning around, she grabbed their arm and pulled them away from the creatures path. She stood behind one of the gravestones, watching it slowly make its way. It really was just a pathetic little monster minding its business.

“Might give animal control a call… You think that’s a—” significantly less on edge now that they had put some distance between them, Nicole glanced at the stranger. “I mean, they don’t usually deal with this type of… animal”.  It wasn’t an animal, of course. But she tried to save face, even if she hoped this person wasn’t one of those who still pretended everything had some logical explanation in White Crest.

“My hands won’t be going anywhere near all that!” The fury allowed themself to be maneuvered backwards, wanting as much space between them and the creature as humanly possible. It wasn’t enough that they’d placed the woman strategically between themself and the blob — Baz wanted to be in a different zipcode from that wretched thing. Though they’d certainly lived long enough to see plenty of it, they’d never been a fan of things like this. Disgusting aspects of the world they lived in, things that smelled unpleasant and looked even worse. One thing they’d enjoyed about the evolution of human society was the move towards cleanliness. If they had to deal with things like this on a daily basis, they would have bought an island for themself by now.

At the (absolutely justified) accusation of drama on their part, Baz put a hand against their chest, doing their best to look absolutely offended. “Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? This thing is the worst creature I’ve ever seen upon this earth!” Probably not selling the claim that they weren’t being dramatic, especially not with how loud their voice had become, but the point stood all the same. 

Moving out of the creature’s path was certainly a good idea, Baz had to hand it to the woman. They scrambled to make sure that she still stood between him and it, even with the gravestone adding some added protection. The last thing they wanted was for it to brush up against them somehow, after all. “Why do we have to do anything? Because it’s a scourge upon this planet! Because it’s gross! Because I don’t want to live in the same place as it!” But the fury did relax a bit as the thing went on its way. 

“What’s animal control going to do? Catch it in a net? I’d rather call someone with a very large knife.” Knowing a hunter would be nice, in a situation like this one, though Baz wasn’t sure there were any hunters in White Crest who wouldn’t take offense to their… status of humanity. Still, it wasn’t as if there were many other people you could call for a thing like this. Levi might kill it for them if they asked nicely, but there was sure to be some sort of price tag attached. “Maybe you should try kicking it.”

Arms crossed, Nicole squinted at the creature. Were they perceiving two different monsters right now? “Okay, that’s not…” she tilted her head. Maybe from a different angle— no, still the same. It didn’t shoot anything, have fangs, or claws or wings. It was pathetic, really. So why not leave it be?  “Have you been around White Crest? cause fuck, I’ve awful news for you. Gets way worse than this”.

But yes, it was gross, Nicole conceded. Silently once again. She didn’t want them thinking they were making good points. “Hmm”. It wasn’t enough of a reason to intervene. This monster had barely any interest in them, it seemed. Was this stranger actually scared and just putting on a dramatic display? Nicole couldn’t tell how much of their act was real. If they were scared then maybe, she’d feel more inclined to actually help. Like she always picked up the spiders for Leah.

“Yeah, alright” she grumbled, begrudgingly. Animal control was pretty useless anyway. “I’m not killing it” Nicole scoffed at the mention of a knife. “It’s not bothering us. Except your eyes, I guess. And our noses”. And it was a good thing to never mention the axe she was carrying in her backpack. “I’m not— I’m not gonna kick it,” she doubled down. That’d be stupid. It’d be stupid right? To test the thing… Why did she entertain the thought for a second? This person was a bad influence with all their theatrics. “I’m not… going to do that” she began, hand mid air, stopping them from suggesting anything else. “If you’re that scared we— I can trick into going away. To the woods”.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in White Crest. I’d much rather face something that wanted to eat me than that.” It was, of course, categorically untrue. Not that Baz had been in White Crest for a while — that part was certainly the truth — but that they preferred deadly creatures to disgusting ones. For all the years they held beneath their belt, Baz was still something of a coward when it came to danger. But… yikes. That didn’t mean they liked seeing things like this. They’d need a few centuries of therapy if that thing came any closer, they were sure of it. 

Even Baz wasn’t sure how much of their display was for show and how much was genuine. It was something they’d learned early on in their life, before it became an immortal one; if you put on a show with enough gusto, you could begin to fool even yourself. And Baz was full of nothing if not gusto.

The show wasn’t having the full effect they’d been hoping for — if it were, this woman would already be killing the terrible creature and rescuing Baz from the stench of it — but it wasn’t entirely ineffective, either. Sending the creature into the woods wasn’t their favorite solution, but it was certainly far better than allowing it to remain out here in the open where Baz had to see and smell it. “Yes,” they nodded, not a hint of shame to their expression, “I’m terrified. Please, send it away. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“Might wanna reevaluate those preferences” Nicole grumbled, mostly to herself. It was pointless to keep arguing. This creepy, horrifying sack of rotting flesh was probably worse than the apocalypse itself to them. She’d be the bigger person and respect this person’s fears. As ridiculous as they were, mind you.

She glanced at them as they spoke, lip twitching in annoyance. Nicole was exasperated by this stranger, just as she was in her inability to figure them out. They were playing with her, she was near certain of. Mocking her. But if they weren’t? Then, scaring it into the woods was a small thing to do for someone. Nicole could do that, couldn’t she? Brainstorming, her gaze had already returned to the creature when she heard her companion’s following sentence. She glanced at them, frowning deeply. What? The words sounded vaguely familiar. It had to be some sort of reference, going by context. But she didn’t have the time to access her very limited reference directory and remind herself why she had the inkling that this was some pop culture thing. “Yeah…okay. Fine,” she drawled, failing to inject the snark she wanted to.

But… How exactly was she supposed to do it? Lure it. Lure it— how? Did it eat? Did it see? “I…” Nicole shrugged, shooting the stranger a helpless look. Why did she have to get into these type of situations? Why did she offer? She rummaged through her bag, pulling out anything that appeared useful. A protein bar. Some change. Gum. Her flashlight. Bear spray. Could that maybe… ? She felt so stupid, coming out from behind the gravestone with— a can of spray in her hand. She covered her nose again, stepping more firmly. There was nothing to be scared of, but fuck if her eyes didn’t water as she neared. Hope hanging by a thread, Nicole pushed the button, spraying the lump with it and waited. 

“No, I’m very confident in my choices. Being eaten would be a far kinder fate than this. If it touches me, I’ll have to burn everything I own, just to be thorough.” Their tone was theatrical, their voice loud enough to actually draw the beast they were lamenting against towards them rather than scare it away. Baz, of course, was too busy being dramatic to make note of this.

In any case, they figured they wouldn’t have to worry about the beast long-term. This woman, as annoyed as she might be, seemed willing to scare it into the woods for them so long as they acted as if their fear was real and not played up for the drama. Baz stared at her as she studied them, showing no sign that they were being anything but truthful. She didn’t seem to catch the Star Wars reference — though she was young enough that she may only be familiar with the newer pieces of the franchise, like the ridiculously high budget television shows the kids were raving about — but they decided to let it slide. Given the choice between explaining a pop culture reference and being rid of the skin flap monster, Baz would much prefer the latter.

Though she’d have to figure out how to get rid of it first. The expression on her face told them that she wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to uphold her promise of shooing the thing away, and Baz inched back a little to put more space between the two of them just in case they needed to use her as a distraction to make a quick getaway. They watched, wide-eyed, as she fished bear spray out of her bag and inched towards the creature, leaning forward in anticipation just a little as she sprayed the canister. The world seemed to hold its breath alongside her as the spray shot out towards the lump of flesh, and then —

It scurried back, shaking what Baz thought might be its head as it worked to put distance between itself and the spray. The fury cheered loudly. “Do it again!”

Her jaw tightened at the mention of fire, again. Stopped talking altogether. She wouldn't even let this person joke about such stuff. She was a little bit traumatized, maybe. Instead, Nicole poured her energy on the task at hand.

Somehow, after the initial spray, the creature retreated. Baffled, Nicole examined the can, wondering what was inside that equally repelled a fleshy monster and a bear. And shit— there were more important things than spray ingredients to worry about, and her companion’s voice travelled fast to remind her what was at stake. She did as told. Because fuck it, it was working. And though it wasn’t the most agile of creatures, it crept away and away and Nicole continued to aim at a particular angle that would trick the lump into escaping towards the trees. 

By the time she had successfully guided the monster away from the cemetery, there was no spray left. She shook the can, pressing the button one final time until nothing came out. Just in case. After that, she waited, watching the creature’s behavior, making sure it wouldn't return. She turned towards the stranger, eyebrow arched. “There. You good now?” She huffed. Nicole still needed to make it to the arboretum on time, so the sooner she ensured that no further danger was lurking, the sooner she could go about her day.

She didn’t seem to like talk of fire, though Baz was too wrapped up in their own dramatic rambling to notice her discomfort. They were far too focused on the creature and her promise to dispose of it, far too interested in seeing whether or not she was successful. If she wasn’t, they would certainly grow more unruly. 

But that, it seemed, wasn’t something they needed to worry about. The bear spray, for whatever reason, acted as an effective deterrent against the beast, Baz’s hands clapping together filling the space with sound that only seemed to scare the creature more as the woman sprayed it again. Its movements were odd, unnatural, but so long as they were taking it away from Baz, the fury didn’t care much what they looked like. They watched as their savior continued to chase the beast until it was waddling off towards the treeline, trailing behind them both like a curious child.

Grinning as the woman turned back towards them, Baz flashed her a double thumbs up. “Lovely,” they confirmed. “You’re my hero, truly. A knight in shining armor! You put Christopher Reeve to shame!” 

Nicole stared at them, unblinking as her lips curved into a frown. Now, who was Christopher Reeve? Another reference, surely. But the one famous Christopher she knew, was Columbus. And they couldn’t possibly be… trying to reference him, right? That was pretty damn offensive considering— “I’m no hero” she huffed a humorless reply, almost certain she was still being mocked.

“Right… uh, so I’m gonna—” Nicole put the spray away, rubbing her hands awkwardly when silence settled in. “You keep doing— whatever it was you were doing,” she walked past them, making her way back to the path towards the garden. Only, and only because she had seen their reaction to the fleshy creature, Nicole turned, dropping the annoyance from her tone as she acknowledged them again. “Just… ah, be careful and shit. Not everything out there can be repelled with bear spray” she warned. That monster, whatever it was, had been inoffensive. Unlike the rest of the beasts lurking in the woods. Whether this person pretended otherwise or not. 

Having issued her final warning, Nicole gave them a nod of goodbye. What else was she supposed to do, really? She didn’t have in her to blurt out some pleasantry like ‘see you around’. She definitely didn’t want to see them or their dramatics around. A nod. That was all she managed before heading to the botanical garden, where a much less stressful evening waited for her.

[mortemoppetere]

@nicsalazar from here:

[Too many men in this poll, but Nicole votes for Perro]

​[dog owner solidarity. thank you for your service.]

[ariadnewhitlock]

[pm] Hey. Ariadne, right? This is Nicole. From the Wanted to update Promised I'd message you after I went checking. Man's gone. Don't know where, couldn't track him. So maybe there's a chance he walked. Or something ate him overni

[pm] Yes, that's me. Oh - okay. So maybe he walked away and went to sleep in his own home. Thanks for letting me know! I hope it wasn't too much trouble to go back and check.

[nicsalazar]

Helping Paw || Felix & Nicole

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Somewhere in Gatlin Fields PARTIES: @recoveringdreamer & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Amidst the chaos, Nicole finds Felix's jaguar. WARNINGS: Mentions of parental and sibling death.

The columns of fire and smoke rose above tree canopies, tinting the sky with the bright shade of destruction. Preview of what Nicole was to encounter when she reached her destination: An avoidable tragedy, she could only assume. Most times, this was the case. 

When she received the message, Nicole couldn’t stay home. Not while others lost everything. She knew what that felt like all too well. Perhaps, it was why adrenaline ran in her veins as she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. This time she didn’t have to run, this time she was brave enough to help. Some of her training would have to come in handy, no? 

Her knuckles turned white over the wheel, attempting to maneuver her pickup truck with both speed and caution. Too aware of the wildlife that must be scattered around due to the emergency. With scarce details about the magnitude of the event, it was impossible to know the consequences it could have in the surrounding areas.

She parked where she could find, too far away to get a glimpse of the state of the farm, but picking up on the sirens blaring in the distance. First responders, surely. Or reinforcement, depending on how unrelenting the flames were. Nicole wasn’t an optimist, experience suggested everything but a happy ending for the people who were caught in the fire. 

Nicole trudged through the forest, following the trail of the smoky scent burning her nose, the protective scarf she wore over her face didn't do much. Amidst the chaos, a yowl broke the blaring of distant sirens. At the time, with her senses on high alert, she had no time to pick up on the familiarity. Assumptions were quickly made; Some type of wildcat was running from danger. Nicole froze, reconsidering her path. She knew better than to face a scared feline in her human form. But she could take a detour to the detour she was already taking. Though she couldn’t pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. Between the animal sounds, the sirens, and something else Nicole registered as human screams, she became disoriented. 

—

It had been almost enjoyable, at first. The jaguar was rarely allowed to roam free, especially outside of the strange, uncomfortable building that Felix often trapped them inside, the one filled with little more than violence and pain. The jaguar had enjoyed stretching his legs, enjoyed sinking his teeth into things either not capable of or unwilling to cause damage to him in return. But as the fire raged and the sound of something shrill and unfamiliar filled the air, the feeling of freedom was quickly replaced by an old panic and an instinct to run. 

And so that was what the jaguar did. He turned on his heel, taking off towards the woods, towards the familiarity of the trees. He could find a place to regroup, find a way to get far from all the danger this town had to offer. It hadn’t worked in the past, but perhaps now whatever it was that held him here would disappear. Perhaps now, he’d be allowed his freedom. 

Dirt kicked up behind him as he sprinted away, feeling more and more at ease the further into the trees he retreated. He slowed a little, not quite to a trot but to something below a run. It was difficult to pick up on individual scents; the overwhelming aroma of smoke was overpowering on his sharp senses. He needed to get away from that, too. But… there was something familiar beneath it. Faint, almost hidden, but undeniably present all the same.

Jaguar. 

Not just that, but a jaguar he recognized. The woman, the one he’d met in the woods with the insects. Was she at the farm, too? The jaguar let out a low, uncertain yowl — either a warning or a greeting, depending on who might have been listening.

—

Fuck. She expected the smoke, the flames, the sirens— The echoes of distress too, but adding a feral cat was more than her ears could handle. Logically, Nicole knew how imperative it was to tune out the array of noises attacking her eardrums if she wanted to be able to locate a wild animal ambling around the forest searching for its next meal. In reality, it was a lot fucking harder said than done. She pressed herself against the biggest tree she could find, taking advantage of the low visibility the smoke created to hide herself from what she assumed was a predator. Because she wasn’t the only one being ambushed by stimuli left and right. The sirens became a distant ringing, but the new problem was the blood pounding in her ears. She held her breath, trying to get out of her head, listening for footsteps or the sweep of the animals against the underbrush a snapping twig. Nothing was more unnerving than understanding something was on the prowl without knowing where. 

The spirit within lent a hand. The muscles in her eyes twitched, and Nicole was suddenly capable of taking on the night with supernatural clarity. Thanks, she thought briefly, unsure if that sort of communication worked at all. She looked behind the tree in search of the yowling beast. Amber eyes landed on a shadow, and a familiar cold struck her chest, shutting down the wave of panic oscillating in her chest. The jaguar. Her jaguar. Nicole froze, waiting for a second sign. What did it want? She wasn’t in a situation where she needed to be bailed out yet, she knew her limits. She could handle this. “I got it,” she grunted in annoyance. It probably wasn’t a good excuse to the jaguar, she doubted it was satisfied, but it was hard to sound anything but overwhelmed with the smoke drifting close to the trees, rendering her scarf pointless. 

The inner struggle with the spirit prevented her from focusing on the shadow that brought up her initial reaction. It was there, enveloped in a mist different from the smoke. A second jaguar. Two sets of amber eyes stared at each other and the shoe dropped. It was hard to get any hint of his scent, but… could it be—  “Felix?” She tried, voice muffled. Maybe it was better for her if the jaguar didn’t hear her, though the staring made it obvious that he spotted her as well. She regretted making her presence known. Wasn’t the time to have a conversation with either a hungry jaguar or a scared jaguar. But why was Felix in the woods? Was he hurt? She looked up to the orange sky. Was he involved in the fire? They could be injured— She peeled herself away from the tree and did another stupid, yet brave thing. She faced the jaguar, raising her hands slowly. Cold wrapped around her ribcage again, squeezing air out of her lungs. But this time Nicole understood. Should it become a necessity, the jaguar was ready to come out. No second guessing, they were in agreement.  

—

She said Felix’s name, and the jaguar yowled again, a quiet confirmation. His heart was pounding in his chest, anger and fear forming a dangerous cocktail deep within the belly of the beast. He was… uneasy with the events back at the farm, uncertain what to do now that he was away from them. Certainly, the people there had been a danger to Felix. The jaguar wasn’t sure if they still were. He didn’t know if they were a danger to this other jaguar, either, though he wasn’t sure that that was a thing that concerned him much. If she wanted to run into danger, he didn’t think he’d stop her. But she seemed more interested in him, for the moment.

Cautiously, the jaguar circled her. His eyes scanned the trees around them for threats, searching for anything he might need to dispatch. No one had followed him as he’d fled; he liked to believe it was because they feared them, as they ought to, but perhaps it was a simpler thing. Most people remaining had been wholly concerned with getting themselves free and away from danger. The jaguar wasn’t sure how many were left. He wondered if there was some way to communicate this to the woman before him, to warn her that she’d be walking towards a graveyard if she left here. 

Still seeming uncertain, the animal sat on his haunches, tail curling around his legs as he stared at the woman. Were she human, he would have attacked already, would have torn limb from torso just to see the marvelous explosion of blood as the flesh separated. But the jaguar had been raised among others like himself. He’d played with other cubs at the feet of their mother, protected his siblings when the world stormed the gates of their fortress. Jaguars were solitary creatures, but this one felt some kinship towards others like himself. He wouldn’t attack this balam unless she gave him some reason to do so.

Tilting his head ever so slightly to one side, the jaguar yowled again. Communicating with humans was a difficult plight. The jaguar had never much cared for it.

—

She never liked cats very much. It was somewhat—no, fully ironic, Nicole was aware, given her lineage. But it was no competition, when it came to animals for her: Dogs were vastly superior creatures. Nacho was easy to understand, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that sometimes, it felt like he understood the world he lived in better than she did. But she was certain, even if she didn’t have the best dog in the world, her feelings on the matter would remain unchanged. Cats, in comparison, were too temperamental for her liking. She appreciated their need for boundaries, but that was it. They were incompatible in every other possible aspect. 

She could never communicate with a cat the way she did with Nacho. Least of all, the balam spirit she carried within. Of course, her shitty luck would have her in the middle of the forest, trying to reach an understanding not with one, but with two at the same time, when everything around them burned to a crisp. She should’ve walked toward the first responders. But she had no time to beat herself up for it when the ground crunched beneath as the jaguar stepped closer. 

The spirit pulsed near her heart, while Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the jaguar circling her. Studying her. Fuck. Despite everything she was confident it wouldn’t attack. Balam were already so rare, she knew the other’s spirit wouldn’t want to bring them closer to extinction. Whether Felix would become a threat or not, there was a more pressing issue; She couldn’t communicate with them like this. She shivered, the scorching heat enveloping the forest contrasting with the cold wrapping around her ribcage. The spirit would know what to do.

Okay. She agreed to this. Right. And with the fire out of control and the flames that threatened to jump in their direction at any moment, the jaguar was the quickest way to safety for her too. 

The jaguar. Would it keep its end of the deal? Just to bring both of them to safety? Or would it seize the opportunity to rip away everything from her again once more? Her body tensed in resistance to the shift. It would only lead to a more painful transformation but— Why would she trust it? She didn’t want to lose four years of her life again. And what if the jaguar released control, but she woke up to a sighting in the news tomorrow? It was an emergency, there would be plenty of witnesses that could come in contact with a tailless jaguar. Rescuers searching for people or animals. Onlookers with morbid curiosity. Would it look to be caught? Did it miss the Zoo? So much for no second-guessing. She should have known it was hard to escape one’s nature. 

It was a matter of communication. And how could Nicole, already painfully flawed at communicating with humans, be any luckier with an animal? She couldn’t do this on her own. She had no time to sit down and decide on the most rational solution. All she felt was the blood pounding in her ears and the cold overtaking her torso. If the jaguar got caught, then at least— It— her friend would be safe from this fire. At least she did something brave before the spirit trapped her in its body again.

She undressed fast, shoving what could be shoved into her backpack. Jacket and pants. On the off chance she was able to return and retrieve it. She needed to come up with a system for the jaguar to carry her shit during shift. Another time—if… if she got one. Her amber gaze focused on Felix, reminding herself why this would be worth it. Through the snap of bones, the tear of flesh and the mist of the spirit seeping past the cracks, Nicole’s jaguar lept to the forest ground. A warming roar cut through the night, conveying what the human counterpart couldn’t: Fire encircled most of the ground, south was the path to safety.

—

This was exactly what he’d wanted. In a sense, the jaguar didn’t realize it until she began to undress, until the faint memory of Felix sometimes doing the same before choosing to shift allowed him to understand the purpose of the woman removing the strange, thin layer of not-quite-fur that humans seemed so fond of. He fell back onto his haunches, sitting and allowing his tail to curl around his body. With the pair of him, he thought, they would be far safer than either individual alone. There were still enemies about, still threats not yet vanquished. The two balam would stand a better chance together. The jaguar knew that.

He lacked the understanding to know that this woman might want him to shift back; in his agitated state, the jaguar had yet to even consider relinquishing control back to Felix. Felix had nearly gotten the pair of them killed, had been on the ground with a knife at their throat when the jaguar took over. If left to their own devices, Felix would likely run back into the fire instead of away from it, their desire to help their friends far greater than any sense of self preservation. The jaguar, for his part, was interested only in saving his skin. Wild animals rarely cared for much else.

The familiar sound of bones snapping filled the air, cutting through sounds of screams and sirens and crackling flames. The jaguar got to his feet once more, the yowl he let loose almost a celebratory thing. One jaguar became two in the clearing, and the one that was Felix’s was pleased with the results.

—

The orange of the night sky reflected on the jaguar’s glimmering gaze as it sprang free. The beast surveyed its unfamiliar surroundings, recognizing it wasn’t back in the zoo, as it longed for. Instead, it found itself in the middle of the forest, where nature welcomed the jaguar back. It wasn’t the comfort of its confinement, but the beast came alive as it felt the wind brush against its fur, ruffling orange and black hues. As it sensed the subtle energy thrumming beneath the ground. As it listened for the sound of birds soaring overhead or the shuffling feet of smaller wildlife. The animal was finally where it always belonged.

The air, however, crackled with a new, ominous energy, and the beast's primal drive kicked in. A threat loomed, cutting its appreciation for nature short. Although not a threat with razor sharp teeth and vicious claws. But with a blaring screech that went on forever, unprecedented lung capacity on display. The scent of smoke filled its senses, and the hot temperature against its fur made Nicole’s jaguar snarl. It was a new kind of danger, but one that would be be unsustainable in the long run. It needed to flee again. The jaguar’s head tilted with curiosity, tail low as its sense of imminent danger declined, because amid the daunting scene, there was Felix’s jaguar. The jaguar let out a small chuff, a greeting for an old friend.

His scent was familiar, even with the burnt foliage around them. The jaguar’s human counterpart cared for them. Her fondness for the other spread warm along its ivory belly. It felt also Nicole’s influence, not yet lulled into dormancy. A fight to get back in control stirring inside, searing hot into its sternum. It wasn’t enough to revert the shift. They had an agreement. 

Feral gaze took on the other jaguar, uncertain despite their familiarity. Nicole was a later bloomer. Never managed a full shift until the fateful night her family was ambushed. The Salazars maintained secrecy regarding their true nature, stifling most of their lineage. She couldn’t recall ever coexisting with the other jaguars in her family out in the open. In hindsight it was all precaution to avoid slaughter. In hindsight, she should’ve fucking asked more questions. Nicole’s jaguar sauntered toward Felix’s without fear of being attacked. Both proud beasts by nature, yet unwilling to harm each other. The zoo was a haven when the world threatened both the human and the beast, but it was missing other balams. It was missing the innate connection between spirits. Kindred despite not sharing the same bloodline. Kindred through a millennia of ancient magic.  

A connection that demanded both remained alive. It demanded the spirit to persevere. Nicole’s jaguar urged the other to run along with it, making it a chase, a playful thing. The jaguar never played with another before. But soon the other beast was roped into the scheme. They ran, past the trees and away from flames, smoke and destruction. Muscles rippling in a blur of dapled colors as they bolted toward safety. 

A creek appeared on their way, and the beast descended toward it. The scent of charred wood barely reached its nostrils anymore. It approached the body of water slowly, vying for the other jaguar’s attention. With the run and the high temperatures, they were parched. Nicole’s jaguar observed, ears pinned back for potential threats lurking, then took the initiative and drank from it. 

—

Woman gave way to beast, and Felix’s jaguar felt some strange relief as it happened. He hadn’t the capacity to recognize his own loneliness in the chaos that befell the farm around him, hadn’t understood the complex emotions swirling within him. He liked to believe that such things were remnants of Felix, the human’s mind still lurking somewhere in the back and causing undue complications. The reality wasn’t quite so simple. The jaguar felt fear, felt doubt, felt anger and loneliness the same way his human host did. 

And he felt comfort, too. It was a quiet thing, not nearly as familiar as the rage, but it was soft and warm and he ached for it. He felt comfort in the presence of another balam, felt better with her here and shifted than he had moments before, when he ran through the woods free and terrified. She approached him, and the warmth that washed over him wasn’t dissimilar to what he’d felt with his siblings as a child. This balam had less experience with shifting than Felix’s jaguar, but it didn’t matter much in the moment. What mattered to the jaguar was that he was no longer alone.

She urged him to run, and he did. He chased her just as he had chased his brother and sisters as a cub, the danger of the burning farm behind them a forgotten thing. The flames couldn’t touch them here, the enemies Felix’s jaguar had torn through a faraway thought. The creek stretched out before them, and he approached it for a much needed drink, calm settling over him as he eased the aching caused by the smoke in his throat.

Felix continued to fight for control from within and, as the adrenaline died down, their jaguar had less and less inclination to fight back. The chaos was far behind, and he was safe with an ally now. The desire to maintain control, to run was still there, but it was a flatter thing now. Another day, perhaps, he’d have clung to it more readily. But right now, he felt tired enough to let it go. The shift was a slow one all the same, a fight from both sides even if the jaguar fought with less passion than he normally might have. Bones snapped into a new form, fur disappeared beneath skin, and Felix took the place of the jaguar once more, terror still gripping their throat.

“Thank you,” they murmured to the other jaguar — to Nicole. They glanced back in the direction of the farm, the smoke still billowing into the sky. The jaguar spirit within them seemed to move around, offering a silent warning against going back.

—

Nicole’s jaguar wouldn’t have known tragedy struck a mile away if it hadn’t run from the danger itself. The creek was the picture of peace and quiet, the stark difference allowing the beast to slowly lower its defenses. Its insistent sniffing ceased, its ears relaxed.  It couldn’t hear the blaring monsters anymore. Only the wind rustling the leaves. An owl, crickets. A croak somewhere distant. It was peace like it hadn’t experienced in a decade. Long before the Zoo. The jaguar turned to observe its companion following, mirroring its action and drinking from the creek. After the smoke and the flames, it was a necessity. 

The other jaguar sensed the lack of threat similarly, and as a result, he looked content to step back and allow the human to come to the surface. Nicole’s jaguar retreated, apprehensive, tail whipping in the air again. A snarl tumbling past sharp teeth. Being in the presence of the human wasn’t what it wanted. It was the other animal who shared its nature. The other jaguar who felt the importance of the spirit. 

And if he turned human—

It was time to relinquish control. As a naked figure appeared on the forest floor, Nicole’s jaguar began its internal battle. The creature deemed it too short of an outing. It needed more time. The agreement was unbalanced, why should the human have the final word? But amber eyes set on them, the human friend —Felix— and it knew it would be a battle hard to win. The sounds Felix made meant nothing to the jaguar, but their tone reached deep. The human within, her presence— her will, it was stronger than before. Pulsing along its ribcage, fighting to free herself with purpose. Was she learning better control? That couldn’t be good for its future. For its survival. The jaguar didn’t let fear show. Too proud for it, and thought it would keep the agreement they reached for the night, the spirit wasn’t pleased. It would demand retribution, at the right time. 

The spirit loosened its hold, but Nicole’s mind, however, struggled to rise to the surface. Escaping from the lifeless void of slumber to settle back into reality she was desperate to cling to. It felt out of reach for moments, a pull tried to drag her back, before she finally seized it. She swam toward conscience. 

Her body fell forward, and she heard the splash before she understood what was happening. She scrambled to stop from diving into the water. Panting, she tried sitting up, absorbing the world around her once more. Eyes widened in terror, darting around, desperately seeking confirmation that time hadn’t jumped. That her last memories — the farm, Felix— were recent. She couldn’t— another leap would end her.    

But Felix was there, by her side, their expression resonating with Nicole. The sky behind them bled orange in the distance. They were by her side— so that meant— The jaguar didn’t cage her for long. Her skin erupted in goosebumps. “Felix—” she rasped, lifting her arm, deciding against the comfort she wished to give her friend. Only to beat herself up for the decision a second later. Indecision paralyzed her movements, but her thoughts swarmed her head. What—How—Why? More importantly, Felix next to her, safe from the fire. “Are you hurt? Why were you in the woods?”

—

Nicole began to shift, the sounds of bones snapping and reforming a familiar one. Felix brought their knees to their chest, wrapping an arm around them and settling into a waiting position. Their throat ached, even after the jaguar’s attempt to soothe it with the water from the stream. Their heart was pounding, even miles away from that billowing smoke. And dread pooled in their stomach, swirling and churning at the thought of what they’d left behind. 

What had the jaguar done to get them out of there? They couldn’t help but wonder. The spirit was fiercely protective, but it never seemed to understand the difference between friends and foes. It clung to violence, doled it out so readily with a rage Felix had never been able to match. The man who’d attacked them was likely dead; the idea of the jaguar letting him live was a far-fetched, impossible thing. But what about Daisy? What about Monty, what about Wynne? What about all the other people who’d been at that party? How much blood was in their mouth? How much visceral would they have to scrub from beneath their nails? 

The panic gripped them, a quiet sob rising from their throat. They tried to push it down, tried not to fall apart, but it was a difficult thing to manage. Something bad had happened, and maybe Felix was a part of it. There was blood in their mouth, and they couldn’t blame it on the Grit Pit or on Leo or on anyone besides themself. They hugged their knees tighter, burying their face against them as the sounds of shuffling beside them became a little more human.

She said their name, and they took a shuddering breath, shaking their head. “I don’t…” Were they hurt? They weren’t sure. Everything always felt so raw after a shift; like every nerve ending was exposed to the world. Adrenaline made it all the more difficult to tell, but they didn’t think it mattered. Their well being wasn’t nearly as important as what the jaguar might have done. “There was — We were at a party. We were at a party. It wasn’t — People came, and — There was a fire, and I don’t — I think —” It was hard to get words to work the way they wanted them to. It was a party. A party. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, wasn’t supposed to end like this. A sob wracked Felix’s frame, rising up and trembling in their shoulders.

—

Felix’s face was coated in blood from the jaguar’s preys. The water stream washed away some of it, but Nicole knew what it was like, to wake up tasting somebody’s blood. To be aware that the beast within sated its hunger by taking a life. The guilt of an act she had no part in eased over the years, perhaps she grew numb to it, but there were remnants. The metallic taste in her mouth as she gained consciousness was one example. Felix grappled with it too. And they tried to get the story out despite their frazzled state. Sympathy pulsed in her chest, the spirit stirring faintly.

“Hey, you’re—” fine, she wanted to say. Okay. But Felix wasn’t fine, they weren’t okay. Their words were fragmented by shock and fear. Sorrow heavy between each breath. Something protected Nicole from locking herself away as Felix recalled the facts, but there was— the familiarity of it left her cold. Felix was at a party too, it was supposed to be safe. Who would think of storming a party? Details were missing, but it was clear Felix watched everything go up in flames, they likely sought their loved desperately, they—

She no longer felt the grass prickling on her knees, nor the gentle splash of the creek near. Her eyes locked far away. Trying to reach the past. She was above her, or— behind, separate from herself, watching, incapable of reacting to Felix’s distress. She was back in Vermont, where the plates crashed against the kitchen floor as the first intruder struck, where her mother’s frenzied screams echoed, gutting Nicole better than a hunter’s knife could, where she didn’t reciprocate her father’s last ‘I love you’, where the blade tore her shoulder blade, where her sister’s grasp slip away despite her best efforts. Where the jaguar stole her youth.

The forest disappeared, it stopped existing. Felix disappeared. She was back in the place where she last left her soul. 

In the aftermath, there was no one. Only the vast wilderness and herself. She never found the clues to uncover what transpired that night. She had no one yet many, too, at the same time. Strangers in a hazy gas station in the middle of nowhere. The old woman who offered a roof and a warm meal. A guy who fixed up a pickup truck for her. The curious kid who talked to her tirelessly, until words were finally comfortable in her tongue again after years exiled from her body and mind. 

A sob came from somewhere— from the backyard—no, next to her. Nicole was dragged back to the present. Felix had someone. But a someone who wasn’t doing fucking shit for them. “I’m here,” she whispered tearfully. It didn’t mean much. It felt empty. A dreadful lie, she was never here. Nicole knew Felix would have been better with somebody else by their side. They’d would’ve preferred it, surely. Someone with a comforting touch and nurturing words and— She wasn't that. Fuck, she was so much less than that. Most days she was nothing. An entity with far less presence than the spirit stirring inside her. Not a day went by when Nicole didn’t wish to be someone else. Someone warmer, wiser, anybody but her. But what else could she do?

If things had been different, if her father didn’t sacrifice himself to give her and her siblings a chance, or if she didn’t let that chance go to waste, if her grip on her sister was stronger as the hunters chased them. If they never came to begin with. Then she would be the big sister who wrangled Yadiel and told him to get his shit together. Would've been the person Nayeli came to share her secrets with. The person who would’ve known how to comfort a friend in need without hesitance.

Perhaps there was still time to be some version of that. Slightly mangled by the past, by the jaguar, by her coping skills. With steep disadvantage, but— She shifted her body, sitting by Felix’s side, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m here,” she repeated, spoken like an apology, because Felix deserved a better somebody. She leaned to touch her temple to theirs, her hand resting on their forearm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Felix was terrified, but they weren’t alone. No one deserved to be. 

She let them sob for a moment, forcing herself not to dive into her memories again. There was enough tragedy in front of her. As Felix’s breath slowed down, Nicole had already thought of a few things to say. “What went down over there… will be on the news. We’ll know—you’ll know what happened to your friends soon.” It wasn’t comfort. Casualties would come. Some of which Felix would have a hand on. But answers too would come, and answers would cushion their fall.

—    

Nicole went quiet and, in a better state, Felix might have recognized the faraway look in her eyes. Everyone in this town seemed to have something haunting them, some quiet tragedy that carved empty spaces into their lives. Most people didn’t talk about it. Felix, for their part, mentioned their own past rarely, and only to people they thought they could trust with it. The details of their mother’s death were locked behind their ribcage like a prison cell, separate from the rest of them so that they could grow into something softer than what that event demanded of them. Their father’s attitude — towards them, towards humanity, towards everything — lived beside it like a cellmate, knocking against the bars with every beat of their heart.

Later, they might wonder if what happened at that farm would be stuffed into the same cage. Could they swallow the smoke and flames that had burned their lungs, could they separate themself from the blood in their mouth? Was it a disservice to do so? They didn’t know how to live with the things that must have happened, the things they must have done, but they weren’t sure it was fair to ignore them, either. What did you owe to the people you’d hurt when you were not yourself? What did Felix owe to whoever’s blood was on their tongue, or to the fighters in the Grit Pit who probably saw a jaguar in their nightmare? Did he owe it to all of them to remember, to let it suffocate him? Or… was it better to move on, to grow from it? 

There didn’t seem to be a good answer. Nor was there an answer to the question of what they now owed to Nicole for finding them, for bringing them back to themself. They might have been better off in their shifted form, without the pressing weight on their chest or the way their lungs couldn’t seem to draw a full breath, but they were glad to be themself in spite of it. The jaguar was stronger, was faster, was better at both eliminating danger and living with the consequences of it, but Felix wanted to be Felix. More than anything in the world, Felix wanted only to be allowed to be themself the way they couldn’t in their father’s house, the way they couldn’t in the Grit Pit. Maybe this heaving, sobbing thing in the woods was the closest they’d come to it in a long time. Maybe there was nothing good about being who you were when who you were was this. 

“I hurt people,” they gasped quietly, trembling with fear or with grief or with both. (Weren’t the two always interchangeable?) “I think I hurt people.” They leaned into her, feeling guilty for the selfishness of it. This wasn’t her weight to carry, but it was too heavy for Felix to lift on their own. And she was here. She was here, and they were afraid enough to allow themself to believe that that was a good thing, that they deserved to have someone here even with blood on their tongue and a fire raging close enough to smell. 

It would be on the news, she told them. They’d know what happened soon. And Felix wondered, with a desperate gulp, if they wanted to. They thought of all the things they might have been better off not knowing, all the questions they didn’t ask after a shift at the Grit Pit because sometimes, ignorance was the closest thing to bliss that they could manage. Soon, they’d have more answers. It felt more like a gallows they were marching towards than any kind of salvation.

“I’m sorry,” they said quietly, unsure if they were apologizing for whatever had happened at the farm or for leaning on her or for making her carry the weight with them or for all of it. For everything, maybe; for what they were, for what they did with it, for the way they knew she understood the feeling. “I’m sorry. I think — I think we should go. I think we should run. I don’t think we should be here anymore.”

—

Her hand barely grazed Felix’s arm, yet it was all Nicole could pay attention to. All her brain decided she needed to focus on. The gesture was uncomfortable, alien for her in spite of how much she was growing to care for Felix. She wasn’t used to it anymore, the jaguar ripped it from her year by year in the wilderness, then in the zoo. Though she didn’t want to take it back either. That felt plain wrong. She had to settle for the all-encompassing anxiety,  remaining still right where Felix needed her. What would it be like, not to question every action, every word, every feeling? She would’ve liked to comfort Felix in a manner that mattered. A manner that helped. Make sure they were supported through it, but it was too big a weight to pick up. 

Felix admitted to hurting people, rather, they believed it happened. Nicole didn’t flinch. She already assumed something along those lines must’ve occurred. When the jaguar was at large, lives were always at risk. They carried a natural predator within, they carried a monster capable of destruction. “Okay—” she replied, awkwardly. Didn’t everybody hurt others? Intentionally or unintentionally. Didn’t she have jaguar kills to answer for as well? She didn’t know if sinking into her own self-hatred would do them any good. She never thought she would be one to defend what they were, when for the longest time she would’ve loved to be rid of the spirit. “I have too. The jaguar— It…it hurts people. Has to. Needs it to survive,” the beast didn’t see it like that, Nicole mused. The jaguar killed and feasted on its prey till its belly was full and there wasn’t rationale in the act. It was the way of nature. And— it was expected of them to understand how important it was for the jaguar to survive. How blessed they were, chosen to carry such a unique spirit. 

Sitting on the grass, one of them sobbing in uncertainty and fear, the other too stunted to comfort them, Nicole was affronted by all the tales she grew up hearing about. They were not special. Only two unlucky people, there was nothing to be proud of. 

Felix didn’t look relieved to hear answers would soon come, and she cursed herself mentally for what she said. They didn’t need the logical answer, they needed—  Perhaps it would be better for both of them if Nicole didn’t speak again. The air was too heavy with grief for her words to cut through it. Felix continued to sob, a trail of tears dampening her hair. All she did was stay there, as promised. Until the apology made her pull away, confusion etched on her features. What were they sorry for? She didn’t have to understand, she only had to listen to their voice, feel the emotion. It used to be so much easier before she was stripped form her humanity. She nodded curtly, accepting their words.

 A shiver ran down her spine as Felix suggested they go. They meant the forest, of course, she was conscious, but she would be lying if Felix wasn’t voicing a desire she felt during her darkest days. And some days after too, when the rays of sun began warming up her skin again. Wasn’t her only talent to run? Why did she stop? “That’s smart,” she rasped, giving Felix another small nod of encouragement. “Fire’s unpredictable,” and they were far from where it ignited, but flames jumped and the wind could twist its path. The forest wasn't as safe for them as she would like it to be. 

Nicole kneeled, gaze sweeping their surroundings. Though the creek offered a much needed stop, they were supposed to face the world again. She rose from the ground, extending her hand for Felix. “Truck should still be— somewhere,” fuck, she was quite proficient at tracking but without knowing the jaguar’s route— “Won’t risk it, though,” if they couldn’t find it, they would— fuck they were naked. Couldn’t ask for a ride. They… the way home would be by foot. Felix could borrow some of her clothes.

—

She’d hurt people, too. Most of their friends had, hadn’t they? Monty, Anita, Wyatt, Teagan… It was so much easier to forgive their crimes than it was for Felix to absolve himself of his own. Lockjaw killed Razor, and Felix told Wyatt that it wasn’t his fault, that the Pit was the one to blame. Monty spoke of his dark past, and Felix assured him that because he was different now, because he was apologetic, none of it mattered. Samir used to talk about how he hurt people during his shifts, and Felix would remind him that the wolf wasn’t him, that there was a difference between himself and the animal inside of him. Teagan bloodied her hands, and Felix helped her clean them with quiet reassurances. Anita felt no remorse for what she did, and Felix thought she must have been right for it.

Those same certainties were absent when they looked inward. They hurt people in the Grit Pit, but the grace they offered Wyatt felt wrong when they tried to apply it to themself because they should have known better, because they signed up for the Pit knowing what it was and were so blinded by their love for Leo that they hadn’t let it stop them. They were sorry for the terrible things they’d done in their past, but sorry didn’t seem like a strong enough word when it fell from their lips. The jaguar wasn’t Felix, but they took the fall for his crimes all the same, wrapped them around their own throat like a noose waiting to tighten and begged the world to hang them for what the beast had done. Their hands were red and stayed red, no matter how they scrubbed beneath their nails. They’d never once felt they were right for the people they’d hurt, even if some of them might have deserved hurting.

Even now, they wanted to push their feelings aside and reassure Nicole, tell her it was okay that she had hurt people despite not believing the same of themself. The jaguar needed to hurt people to survive, but it felt more true of Nicole than it did of Felix. It felt wrong to try and pretend that the things he’d done needed doing. It felt irredeemable to make excuses when they had no idea whose blood was on their tongue. 

So they said nothing at all. They curled in on themself a little tighter, they registered the quiet aches of injuries they hadn’t yet had time to catalog. There was so much blood sticking to their skin; what did it matter if some of it was their own? Wouldn’t it have been better if all of it was? They wished they were still on the farm, and they wished they were anywhere else in the world. Guilt and grief, when it was this heavy, was always a mess of contradiction. 

Nicole spoke of the fire and its unpredictability; Felix had almost forgotten that anything was burning at all. It wasn’t the fire they wanted to flee, but what was inside of it. They couldn’t run from it forever, they knew; sooner or later, whatever had happened during the jaguar’s run would become clearer than they wanted it to be. Sooner or later, they’d know exactly whose blood they tasted on their tongue. And they couldn’t unknow it once it was clear, couldn’t unburn the barn. That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

They shifted their position, straightening themself out and swallowing tightly. Even after the water from the stream, everything tasted like blood. Felix thought it probably would for a very long time. “We can walk,” they said quietly, forcing themself painfully to their feet. “I’m okay to walk. I — It would be better, I think.” After all, when they were finished here, all that was waiting for them was the boiler room at the Grit Pit, where they’d be as alone as they’d ever been. Maybe they could be with Nicole for a little while, but not for long. They wouldn’t be permitted to be away from the Pit for long. But… glancing towards the still rising smoke, Felix thought that this might be exactly what they deserved. 

“Come on,” they said quietly, offering Nicole a hand to help her to her feet. The movement pulled at something that the still-raging adrenaline kept them from feeling in its entirety; they figured that was for the best, too. “Let’s — Let’s get out of here. Please.”

[rangervazquez]

@nicsalazar [pm] Hm. Don't like that. Most of those dudes are assholes. […] Wondering the same thing. Should I look into the dog haters? Could narrow it down. But uh… Would appreciate if you kept an eye around the station.

[pm] Assholes for sure. All they have going for them's a few extra inches. Tbh, anyone who works in a park and doesn't like dogs made a bad choice on Career Day. Sure, I'll keep an eye out. I'll even steal it back 😈

[felinefrenzies]

@nicsalazar replied to your post “[pm] Hey. This is Nicol Hey Syd, Nicole here ...”:

[pm] That... yeah. Pleased to hear that. Sure you could handle another one on your own next time [user regrets typing that] Don't want that, but... you did good, is all. Love Xena, is it that obvious? Should bring Nacho next time, yeah? Can't complain. Shit's the same around here. You doing alright?

​[pm] Dunno. I might still call you since it'd be a lot easier and might get away with 0 injuries like this last time. Xena loves Nacho, and I think Lola does, too. Even if she just stares with those big ass eyes.

Oh, you know. Parents are still on the road, so things are quiet. Had an influx of people for the 4th, so things got busy then, but otherwise not too bad.

[banisheed]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Wicked's Rest State Park PARTIES: Nicole (@nicsalazar) & Siobhan (@banisheed) SUMMARY: Nicole must deal with a stranger who claims to be boning. CONTENT: no warnings

It was a good day to get boned. If Siobhan was being technical, which she was wont to do, it was always a good day to bone. Boning was an art she had perfected; no one boned like she did. Today, she was boning in the state park, which was her favorite place to bone considering that the likelihood of a human interrupting her intimate boning sessions was low. She liked to bone in peace, was that so wrong? A banshee ought to be allowed her private boning sessions. In some ways, maybe she was glad to be out of Ireland; there was no peace to be had boning there. If you wanted to bone, there were half a dozen other banshees that eyed that same place for boning. Siobhan had fought banshees off enough femurs to understand the relief of a solo bone session. Yes! It was wonderful to be here, in this horrible country, in this city that she didn’t care for, far away from home, boning! Indeed, it was a good day to get boned.

The firecracker pop of a branch behind her stirred her attention up like a prey animal; Siobhan stared between the tree trunks. The sun hit the tip of her steel trowel, shooting a ray into her eye. She groaned and dropped it and with it, the phalanx she’d just dug up. Blind, she groped around for her bone-bag—the banshees of Ireland would descend on her treasures with hunger and the instincts of boning were hard to dislodge. She caught the strap of the black duffel bag and yanked it towards her. The results of her boning tumbled out: a mandible, a sternum, a tibia, even a pubis. It was, after all, a good day to get bones. She hadn’t identified them yet, she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home, out of the heat. She didn’t dress for the weather, she never dressed for the weather. Today she dressed like she planned on robbing a bank: black cargo pants (pockets for bones) and a black turtleneck (bones could be kept in the collar) and black gloves (she just liked gloves). Maybe she would rob a bank later, the day was still young.

She stood up quickly, kicking aside her tools. “I’m trying to bone,” Siobhan said, aggrieved. It didn’t occur to her that boning meant something else to the humans. She only knew the true meaning of the word: the way that she used it. “This is a park; I’m allowed to bone here.” In truth, she didn’t know if she was, but she also didn’t care either way. In fact, it was more desirable to her if she wasn’t allowed to. She’d gone off the trails thinking it would make finding her impossible. The sun cleaved her eyes, and even holding her hand up and squinting, she couldn’t make out the figure approaching. How had someone found her? This spot radiated death; something big was buried beneath her feet and she wanted it. 

The pockets of her cargo pants were also good for knives. Her hand crept towards one on her thigh.

—

Nicole was at the station filing incident reports moments when her radio pinged. She stopped swaying on her chair and leaned forward, picking up the device and snatching a pen in case she needed to write something down. It wasn’t abnormal to move around the park, take on different roles, put out different fires. The crew was too reduced due to the dangerous conditions to stick to one job only. Most days, she was everywhere: the stations, the trails, the exhibitions, the gift shops, as were the other rangers, adapting to different demands. Whether it was injured wildlife, or issues at different campsites, or a collapsed trail, Nicole had to be ready to answer the calls and do her best to solve problems.

Some calls, admittedly, were less common than that. Hastings was radioing her to inform her about a suspicious looking figure, dressed in all black, venturing away from the marked area of the Whispering trail. He spotted it while guiding a group of tourists around the park and couldn’t turn around to deal with it. He trusted her to figure out what was happening. Hardly sounded like something to worry about, so Nicole ended the call, grabbed the keys to the vehicle and set out in the direction of the Whispering trail.

When she was there, it was a matter of finding the mysterious figure. She parked at the trailhead and continued by foot, aiding herself with her heightened senses to pinpoint human presence in the area. The footprints helped too. They suggested an odd choice of footwear to be trekking in the park. Perhaps, Hasting was correct in his assumption that there was more to this than a hiker with a love for the color black. Nicole walked slowly, quietly, knowing it was in her best interest to be silent around the trail. It didn’t get its name for no reason. But the fucking branch she stepped on had different plans. Fucking— She froze, gaze shifting amidst the trees, waiting on something to pounce. Blood pounded in her ears, until a feminine voice came through. Nicole decided against yelling at her to keep her mouth shut, because at least, the suspicious black figure revealed her location.   

Nicole wasn’t alarmed by the woman admitting her intentions for the hike. Slightly weirded out, sure, but not alarmed. Couples looking for intimate places in the forest— she’d encountered a few of them, unfortunately. It was always awkward and embarrassing for everybody involved. For her sake, Nicole hoped the woman and whoever she was with had all their clothes on. The sun breaking through the cracks illuminated the dirt path ahead of her, and Nicole trudged through the bushes and overgrown roots following the sound of the woman’s voice until she was in front of her. All black clothing in place, thank fucking god. However, nobody else accompanied her, and Nicole wondered if she misunderstood what was happening. 

She rubbed her jaw, closing her eyes for a second. Did she spot a tool on the forest floor? And a duffel bag? Bones? Yeah, it didn’t make any sense. Her shoulders screamed from the tension building. It was going to be one of those days. Ma’am, she hesitated before continuing to rehearse what she wanted to say. She was likely to test out a few options before opening her mouth. The woman didn’t look much older than she was. Some found that level of respect uncomfortable. Nicole found all levels of socialization uncomfortable. She opened her eyes, “Good—” fuck, what time it was, was it past noon? “Good…uh, m— yeah.” Worst of all, the woman looked familiar. Where would she know that kind of woman from? The fruit aisle at the grocery store? The pet store? A bar? Nicole’s options were limited.

Didn’t matter, she was going to handle this. “Don’t suppose you got a… reasonable explanation for—” she eyed the bag pointedly. No, reason didn’t exist in this town. When would she learn? “If you trying to bury your trash, we got places for that. Will show you, it’s called— the trash can.” She would worry about the trash in question being bones later. She was resolving one issue at the time. 

—

“Trash?” Siobhan huffed; the insult stabbed her as though she were the trash in question. The insult worked in layers, much like trash itself: the insinuation that Siobhan would litter, the insinuation that bones were trash, the insinuation that she didn’t know what a trash can was. A cloud passed overhead and Siobhan sighed, relieved that the sun’s unrelenting light was paused. In the temporary dimness, Siobhan regarded the human. She looked familiar. Where did she know her from? The grocery store? The pet store? A bar? Siobhan’s options were rather limited. She didn’t know her from any graveyards; the only people she met there were dead and the woman was—sadly—not dead. However, the state of living was mutable. Siobhan’s various knives sang a resounding “use me” in her head but there was something gaudy about a stabbing in a place like this. This state park seemed to beg for some cliff-pushing. 

“This….ealaín isn’t trash.” Siobhan gestured to everything scattered at her feet. The cloud moved along and the sun returned and suddenly Siobhan drew a conclusion as to the woman’s familiarity: she was dressed just like the strange, unfashionable humans that dotted the park. It was some sort of cult, she guessed. A strange cult that seemed to boast authority over the trees. They told her things she never listened to, such as how she wasn’t allowed to write messages in ‘red paint’ around campsites. Like the woman, they insulted her with their insinuations. She’d never be so tacky as to use red paint, it was blood. “The only trash here is your clothes. You look like you’re going to have a business meeting with a squirrel.” And she looked like she’d lose the meeting and the squirrel would run off with all her money. 

“And I do have a ‘reasonable explanation’: I’m boning. I said that. Don’t look at me like you don’t know what being boned is. I could bone you but…” She eyed her silly outfit up and down; she didn’t even want her bones. Siobhan waved her hand out, shooing the woman like an animal. “Go on. This is sexy woman business.” Siobhan paused. “Actually, do you happen to know where the nearest cliff is?” She grinned. “Say, one as big as—oh, for example, if one were to push you off it, one where you would die a slow and delicious death? One about that tall?” She imagined shattered spines. 

—

Nicole was on the slower side intellect wise. Stupid, but aware, if such a distinction could be made. Possibly why she managed to fool a couple of her coworkers into believing she was more capable than she was. Her eyes, however, worked perfectly, better than most. So the woman’s clarification was both unwanted and unnecessary. Sure didn’t stop her from opening her mouth, though. Why would it? “It’s— bones, I know—” she interjected, a hint of irritation edging her words. Did the woman believe her actions would somehow make more sense to Nicole by clarifying the bag’s contents? 

Her forehead creased, frown more pronounced when she heard the comment on her uniform. Nicole wasn’t going to let her get on her nerves. She wasn’t. This was absurd. But it didn’t stop the growing annoyance slowly replacing her confusion. The muscle in her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth. “What are you— Squirrels don’t—” She buried the rest of the sentence with a sharp exhale. The woman was right, and Nicole hated it. Almost as much as she fucking hated the uniform, it was beside the point. She had to wear it no matter what. At least summertime allowed her to swap the button-up for a T-shirt. Not switching to shorts, though. She would never wear those. Thankfully, she left the hat in the vehicle. If she already looked stupid, she didn’t want to know what commentary the woman would have on that. 

The conversation was going nowhere. The stranger repeated her initial explanation, and Nicole should’ve seen it coming. “Right— You keep saying that like it makes sense” boning was sex, no? Even she knew the term. Unless definitions changed drastically during the years the jaguar trapped her in the zoo. The woman wasn’t here for that, no. But she had bones with her— A heaviness set behind her eyes. Some connection existed there, but where? What the fuck was she planning to do with— Her eyes widened. Did… did the woman…shoo her? 

Somebody else would’ve been offended or hurt by the diss. Nicole didn’t have the time or the energy to care about her appearance. She knew it wasn’t an issue. If anything, after all those years the jaguar exiled her from her own body, she was thankful she had one at all. Regardless of how the woman liked it or not. “In that case, we should both go then,” she grumbled, pointing back to the trail with a curt nod of her head. Whatever attractiveness this woman did or didn’t possess was repelled by her attitude. She wasn’t sane, that became evident. Who would bluntly admit wanting to kill somebody? Nicole took her murder intentions calmly, brain trying to piece together a reasonable explanation. It was impossible not to wonder about the woman’s mental well-being. Did she lick one of the mushrooms around the park? Happened twice last week, that they knew of. Rangers didn’t put nearly enough signs to discourage visitors. 

She reached for her radio, and considered calling Hastings, rope another ranger or two. But she didn’t act on it, thumb hooking on the belt instead. Nicole was capable of handling one odd woman. The park was full of them. But she couldn’t figure out if this one was dangerous or simply a nuisance. She wasn’t going to disclose cliff locations, logically, but half an idea formed in her head. “Don’t know, maybe I do,” for once her lack of facial expressions would help. “Been to every summit in the park. But— You don’t sound like the kind of person I’d— share that with. Don’t wanna be pushed off a cliff, you understand.” she glanced at the bones scattered on the ground. The size ruled out they belonged to humans. “Why don’t you explain what you do with the bones first?” 

—

Siobhan wasn’t sure that she liked this woman. She had a nasty habit of cutting her own sentences off, which was irritating, but on the other hand it meant she didn’t have to hear a full sentence from her, which was nice. In the end, it left a confusing taste in her mouth. The only words she enjoyed hearing were “yes” and “you’re sexy”; the woman gave her a lot of “no” and inane questions. “It’s boning. I’m being boned. These are bones.” Was it so hard to understand? Human minds always seemed to be shrinking; it must’ve been all the Ticky-Toks and processed foods. Any big, wrinkly brained human would’ve fallen to their knees weeping, praising her beauty and cutting the bones out of their bodies themselves. 

Siobhan stumbled back, pierced by the unfashionable-woman’s words. She crushed a phalanx under her wilderness-inappropriate heels. “What do you mean I don’t sound like someone you want to share a large, dangerous cliffside with?” She could understand the sentiment, she hardly wanted to share one with herself, but to be told that so brazenly was a shock. “I’ll have you know I’m very…very…” Very what? By her own doing, she wasn’t friendly. She enjoyed the sound of her voice too much to care to listen to other people. She was impatient, irritable, and arrogant. She didn’t like herself, she didn’t make herself into someone to be liked; she wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, she wasn’t born to be palatable. “Very sexy,” she said, as though it made her agreeable. It did to some people. The shallowness of humans was, ironically, a deep well for her to pull from. When it didn’t work, there was nothing to reach for. 

“I collect them,” she admitted with a measure of shyness; honesty tended to make her blush. “I—what do you mean you wouldn’t share a cliff with me? I’m very—maybe I didn’t want to share a cliff with you anyway.” Siobhan’s hands curled to fists at her side. Why did this suddenly bother her so much? To be the sort of woman that couldn’t be trusted around a cliff was the sort of woman she wanted to be. Yet, to be told so, to have it admitted to her…. There was no control here, Siobhan told herself. Yes, that was it. She needed control and this woman took it from her by deciding she wouldn’t show her a cliff. Siobhan was a contrarian; yes, that was it. She liked to do the opposite of a thing. If the woman said she wasn’t the sort to share a cliff with, then Siobhan wanted to be the sort. Yes, yes, all of this was it, and nothing more. Nothing else. 

“I wouldn’t push you off a cliff today,” she said. Tomorrow though, probably. And any day after that, definitely. “Why don’t you…” Siobhan tried to smile the nice way, not in her usual smirk. Her cheeks ached; was she doing it right? “Why don’t you show me one? I love a nice vantage point. I’m a little like a bird in that way.” Her mind flicked to Jade and the I-Piss. Jade would show her a cliff. “Are you familiar with Nelly Furtado? No, never mind, that’s not relevant.” Siobhan knelt, picking up the worn skull of some bird. She strode towards the woman, displaying the delicate bone in the palm of her hand. “‘We are the birds that stay.’ To see the blue horizon is a simple pleasure; the tops of trees like wild nests. This land is beautiful, don’t you worship it? Don’t you want to share it with a soul seeking salvation?” And as she believed that the woman’s attire meant she was a part of the strange tree authority cult, she meant the question with complete sincerity. 

—

“Sure… not seeing the—” What was the word Nicole was searching for— what did sexiness have to do with bones, boning or anything? “Correlation, don’t see the correlation.” And she doubted whatever explanation the other woman provided would be satisfactory. She expected more confusing words, strange behaviors and dead threats from her. “Sounds exactly like I said. Wouldn’t share a cliff with you.” Yet she had the nerve to be offended by Nicole’s negative to share information on the park’s landscape. And why the fuck was the word sexy being uttered again? Was this— a prank? Hastings' call was strange from the start, she should’ve read more into it. But why? Was there some noteworthy date she forgot about? She was fairly confident her birthday already passed. Sometime in— June?

She glanced at the woman, looking and sounding far less theatrical when she spoke again. Was that it? “Ah,” Nicole said to fill the silence she required to process the information. Collecting. That was less odd. People collected weird shit all the time, didn’t they? Museums collected bones too. Why the fuck wouldn’t she say so from the start? She remembered Yadiel, when he was ten, going through a phase where he kept all those stickers on fruit. Her mom didn’t find it so amusing when he stuck them in the closet drawer, though. She didn’t know what to do with the sudden memory of her brother. She didn’t want it, not now. If only that was something she could control. “Shouldn’t you— collect them somewhere safe?” not a closet drawer, or the middle of the forest. “They’ll get stolen here—” she trailed off, eyes drifting to the duffel bag, then the tool. 

Something else clicked. Possibly, the one thing that should’ve clicked from the start. She wasn’t collecting them inside the park, she was here to pick up new items for the collection. “Ah,” Nicole breathed again, embarrassment flushing her neck. She was unsure if the explanation was reasonable like she wanted it but— she appreciated the truth. “Alright,” she accepted it, a new assortment of questions quickly spinning in her head. How could the woman find so many bones in the short time she was in the park? Were collectors that talented? She didn’t ask any. She hated the phrase “ignorance is bliss” but— sometimes. Only sometimes, she could see value in it. 

Why was the woman switching back? Acting as if Nicole was wronging her for not wanting to die. She was used to being confused, but this was completely different territory. “What? You don’t want to share a cliff. You wanted to push me off it,” and why, were those words she had to speak out loud? She frowned, looking more perplexed by the second. Her face would freeze like that, surely, if she continued to talk to the woman. At least the murder offer was put on the back burner. For one day. Nicole liked that, she very much wanted to live. The breath that caught in her throat felt like a laugh, but why would she laugh about anything the absurd woman said? 

Deciding it was safe to go ahead and take the visitor where she wanted, and hoping it had all been an acute case of miscommunication, Nicole opened her mouth to agree. Before she could, the woman picked up something from the ground and walked toward her, carrying it in the palm of her hand. What was this, was she being offered a bone? “Not touching that,” her lips pressed into a thin line, her best attempt at a polite smile. Her eyes landed on the bone, briefly, because the alternative was staring at the strange woman who five minutes ago wanted to murder her. More words were spoken, and it was uncomfortable. Was she— was that poetry? A song? Who the fuck was Nelly Furtado? Was it the woman’s name? She was receptive to the tone, however, despite all the fancy words making it hard to follow. She chanced a glance, and to her surprise, the woman looked sincere. She supposed her voice wasn’t nearly as grating when she wasn’t dishing out dead threats either. 

But they were talking too much, Nicole was increasingly aware of the fact. She didn’t want to do that in this particular trail. And risk drawing one of those creatures the trail was infamous for. “Pick up your stuff, I’ll—” she let out a defeated sigh, “there’s one close. Not great for pushing— one of the best views, though,” the bed of bushes directly underneath didn’t leave her mind either. Precautions. She waited until the woman grabbed all her bones to move. She was not walking ahead, offering her back to be shoved when she least expected it. “You know— Nobody would think anything of you if you weren’t… dressed like that.”  

—

To reject a gifted bone was a terrible insult in banshee culture. Possibly because it was extremely difficult for a banshee to deny the liberation of a bone and so it must’ve meant that the other banshee was deeply and truly hated. This human couldn’t have known what she did, but Siobhan was wounded nonetheless. No one had ever rejected her bones before and she felt that even Regan would’ve accepted it. Siobhan slipped the skull away into one of her many cargo pant pockets where it clinked harmlessly against the other tiny bones there. She searched for her usual haughty anger but grasped only at hurt. It was a nice bone and she’d offered a line of poetry with it. Siobhan strode back to her bag, hips swinging as she was still in heels and the ground was uneven and she never learned how to walk like she wasn’t trying to seduce the air. She knelt down and stuffed her bones back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. She was definitely going to push this woman off of a cliff now. 

“Dressed like what?” She asked, more than a little annoyed now after the terrible insult paid to her. And then there was the matter of the heat. Siobhan had never fared well in it: she was a banshee and a winter child and dressed with funeral colors almost exclusively. Sweat beaded around her forehead. “With the utmost offensive I don’t think I want fashion advice from someone who looks like they could be posing next to a department store catalog lawnmower.” She grumbled. “This is work clothing,” she said. “Clothes for boning,” she said. “Normally there would be more cleavage; I don’t dress like this.” Siobhan wiped her sweat away. There were more murders in summer, she thought suddenly. “In fact, if you hate this so much…” 

Siobhan dropped her bone bag suddenly, a move she’d regret later, and pulled her black sweater off. “There,” she said, stuffing it inside her bag and pulling it back over her shoulder. Immediately, her pasty, freckled skin screamed red under the sun. She had enough sense to keep her glamor on but not enough to have applied sunscreen; she didn’t think she needed it. Still, it was a relief to be out of her shirt. The cool wind grazing her sweaty skin was a feeling comparable to boning. “Happy?” She scowled. She could feel herself burning but said nothing about her glowing red skin. She tried to keep walking under the shadows where possible. “I don’t care what people think,” she said, “least of all you.” Never mind that she’d done this because of what the woman thought. If she made another comment, the pants were going next. 

Siobhan’s black bra was also ill-suited for the weather and ill-suited for physical activity and though she’d been uncomfortable before, each step propelled her into new states of discomfort. “How close is it?” She’d push the woman and be done with it and sleep inside the big freezer she used for dead bodies. 

—

Nicole didn’t think she was getting a headache. She knew it. The pressure behind her eyes grew heavier and unrelenting the longer she spent time with the woman. Why was she so abrasive one moment and then acted— acted what? Strange. Childish. Nicole watched her pick up her bones like a kid who was chastised and had to put away her toys. Nicole didn’t get it. Though there wasn’t much she got about anything in the first place, it wasn’t surprising. Once it was all over, at the very least she would be an interesting story to share back at the station. She should focus on that.

The woman seemed annoyed as she stood, ready to go visit the promised cliff. Good. Nicole didn’t allow herself the satisfaction of pissing someone off too often. It went beyond the type of interaction she was comfortable with. The snarky back and forth would make her anxious. But this woman deserved contention. What was the— a taste of her own medicine. English idioms were fucking absurd. The woman defended her outfit and the corner of Nicole’s mouth twitched, one side curving imperceptibly. It wasn’t a smile, she lied to herself. “And this is mine,” she pointed out, hand pulling down the hem of her shirt. One thing was true though, she wasn’t the person who should be offering any kind of advice. “Fucking hate it. Can’t do much about it,” she shrugged. She didn’t know what effect it was supposed to have on visitors. It didn’t inspire authority. To Nicole, it almost felt like dressing like a clown.  

“Don’t hate yours, I’m saying it draws too much—” Nicole didn’t finish her sentence, eyes widening when the woman dropped her bag and started… undressing. What the fuck— “I didn’t— I wasn’t— I meant… the black. Nothing wrong with—clothes are fine. No— not everything. Those aren’t hiking shoes,” she looked down, eyes darting on the ground instead of the woman flashing her. Though could a bra be considered— This was a prank, of course. And now her coworkers came out from behind the trees and everybody would have a laugh. She’d try following along, but in reality, she’d be humiliated. Nobody showed up, however. It was only them on the trail, the realization that it was a real human interaction she was having sinking slowly. “You always take things to an extreme?” she questioned with a scowl, glancing up at the woman. She kept her eyes from wandering anywhere but… the vicinity of her face. Because she couldn’t look her in the eyes either. 

“Right,” if the woman didn’t care about her opinion she had a weird way of showing it. Nicole couldn’t take any word that came out of her mouth seriously. Once she was done with her little show, Nicole was able to expand on her initial comment. “All black makes you look like a fucking cartoon robber,” what was so wrong about gray, or that military green, or brown? She processed her words, and her eyes widened in fear. “Keep the rest though, please” she added, for safety measures. This was not the type of woman she should be interacting with. Where were the simple people? Nicole needed at least one more year of being back in the human world to be able to deal with her. 

Hoping no other acts of exhibitionism would be committed, Nicole turned her attention to the path ahead. The other was ready to go too, it appeared. Not that she trusted anything or anyone at the moment. Logic and reason were buried on the ground where the bones used to be. “Ten or fifteen—” she huffed out an answer, casting a side glance when they finally got on the road. Was it too much to hope for a quiet stroll? “Could be more, with inappropriate footwear,” she reached behind her, searching for something in her back pocket. She held out a small tube of sunscreen for the other woman. She had a feeling she would be bright pink in no time. “It’s no bone but— uh, will keep you protected”.  

—

What was the world coming to? Did the humans think of their cults as work now? Siobhan grumbled, trudging over uneven ground, kicking the occasional rock. In her time, cults were a fun hobby, not work. “Take it up with your leader,” she said. “You shouldn’t walk around looking that ugly. It’s insulting.” Even the usual black cloaks were more flattering. She kicked a few more rocks, most tumbled back down to her feet, so she kicked them again. She wished she was still boning. Even to prove a point, or whatever it was she was trying to do—the whim melted out of her mind with the heat—this was one step too far. All this physical labor for what? A cliff? Why couldn’t she just stab her? Watching humans spatter like crushed insects was fascinating, yes, but now, with all this walking, was it even worth it? Siobhan counted at least ten good stabbing spots in the woman’s back. Oh, but it was so hot. Why even bother with that? 

Energy drained out of Siobhan quickly and only stubbornness kept her moving. “Am I not hiking in these shoes?” Poorly, she thought, each step threatened a twisted ankle. “They are shoes I am hiking in. Ergo, hiking shoes.” Her grip on her bag tightened. “Extremes?” Her laughter shot up like a howl, sending one poor bird flying off in a lopsided flight. “Live long enough, and mild becomes synonymous with boring.” Which was a rather verbose way to say yes, she realized. Did she always talk like this? And in this weather? Under these circumstances? Maybe she ought to start grunting one word at a time. “I am a robber,” she said. There was no praise for her straightforward response, which disappointed her. She gave up any attempts to speak less immediately. 

“Ten or fifteen what? Feet? Miles? Minutes?” Siobhan scowled at the distance. Could the woman be leading her astray? She wanted to go back to her house now—she missed the air conditioning. Siobhan snatched up the sunscreen. She squeezed the cool cream into her hand and spread it across her red shoulders. She offered no thanks, despite how her skin was soothed. She ought to have rejected it, as the woman did to her bone, but the day was getting to her. “How far away is it now?” She asked. And again, not even a full minute later: “How about now?” 

—

“My… leader?” Somehow, Nicole managed to look dumbfounded. As if she didn’t learn by now who her hiking partner was. Did the woman truly not know the National Park Services? She walked slowly, due to the other’s poor choice of shoes, as well as her own paranoia. She didn’t trust her not to do something if she kept her back toward her for too long. “My… leader,” she repeated, kicking one of the rocks that landed by her feet. Tossing it as far away from the trail without much effort. “Out of my control, I guess. Too high up the chain. Will have to keep— offending you with my ugliness,” she shrugged, half a smirk reaching her lips at the thought of insulting the woman simply by existing in a stupid uniform. Better than any real confrontation, Nicole figured, and carried on.     

The woman wasn’t wearing hiking shoes. Didn’t matter what bullshit argument she was spewing, she had to know that. So, no, Nicole didn’t fall for the bait, tempting as it was. It wasn’t often she was certain about things, she would’ve enjoyed the chance to call out her terrible outfit and footwear, but— better keep her mental peace than get roped into another pointless discussion. Her silence seemed to be an affront to the other woman, whose howling laugh made Nicole flinch. Her eardrums were intact, but she wished she had her earplugs with her, should another one of those… attacks come. She tensed as the bird flew past them. Knowing they were stepping away from the dangerous areas of the trail wasn’t enough, she grabbed the woman by the wrist and rushed her as much as her stupid, inappropriate hiking shoes allowed. She almost told her not to try that laughter again, but— don’t must sound like do in the other woman’s head, so she relented. 

Why did she continue to speak and act as if she was much older than Nicole? it made no fucking sense. A decade older at most, no? She clenched her jaw, fighting the snappy remark long enough that her exasperation vanished. “Live long enough, you revert to acting like a child?” she asked flatly, though she admitted to herself— At this point, she was intrigued. 

The admission that she was a robber would have been concerning, if Nicole could take anything that came out of the woman’s mouth seriously. That ship sailed long ago. Granted, she kept that piece of information in the forefront of her mind, should it become relevant at any point. Though it was difficult to keep anything important in her head, when there was a persistent voice chiming in behind her. “Minutes,” she grumbled. Did she forget to say that part aloud? Shit. It happened sometimes. Her mouth got tired and stopped uttering words. Sometimes, they stayed in her head, in a senseless mess that couldn’t be untangled, so they didn’t get a chance to come out. When the other accepted the sunscreen, Nicole kept her eyes ahead, paying little attention. “Make sure to get your back,” not that her polite advice would be well received, of course. 

And if Nicole briefly hoped that her gesture would be perceived as conciliatory, those hopes were stomped on the ground by inadequate shoes when the woman called out, asking when they would arrive at their destination. Nicole let out a weary sigh. Should she let herself be pushed now? It would end this painful interaction, after all. A broken rib was potentially less horrible. She was finding joy in pissing her off, surely. She couldn’t allow that. “We’ll get there when we get there, you’re the one who wanted the cliff, no? Can take you to one of the exits, if you prefer.” What else could Nicole have done? This wasn’t a woman who would’ve taken a ‘please step out of the trail’ kindly. “So what is it?”

—

There was no relief under the unrelenting sun. The merciful trees shielded her as much as their pitiful branches could, but scorching rays of heat dappled through the leaves. It wasn’t this bad back with the bones and Siobhan guessed her misery must’ve been a combination of things: the woman’s ugly fashion and general unpleasant attitude; the physical labor; the wasted time; the lack of bones; her own blistering annoyance at everything. “Not a child,” she whined like one. “How many times can you stand the same words? The same events? How long until predictability grinds your mind to a paste? The same things over and over again—if your life is boring, you lose your years. The passage of time turns to sludge.” Siobhan’s grip on her bag tightened as she tried to remember the years she passed in exile. As humiliating as her false commands were, they were all she remembered. In forty years, what remained were a handful of hope drenched moments. Everything else was the unending, unrelenting shame. 

“Is that what you want?” She added, allowing her bitterness to keep her legs in motion. “To forget your life? A lack of fun is merely a lack of life.” In someone else’s mouth, it may have sounded inspirational, but Siobhan intended nothing of the sort. She pulled the words from her throat with an acrid conviction; as much a product of her current state as it was her hatred for this truth—wouldn’t it be nice to be boring? She couldn’t bear it for long, the self-hating itch of her mind burned as terribly as the sun. Forty years, she thought. If she had to pass another second like that again, waiting for nothing, she’d shatter the world. How could she endure anything so monotonous again for the rest of her centuries? It was better, always, to live in extremes. 

It was easier too. In extremes, one did not need to think. Siobhan had never been very good at thinking for herself. “I can’t reach my back,” she said. In truth, the act of rubbing one’s own back was an embarrassingly ungraceful gesture. “I’m not going to try. Are we there yet or not?” Clearly not, the horizon was still swallowed up by tree trunks. The exits were tempting; each human-made path of trampled grass pulled her attention. And she watched them until the trees swallowed them too. She liked to think each of those paths led back to the parking lot, where she desperately wanted to go. 

“No,” Siobhan said. She didn’t know which way the official exit off this trail was, but eventually the sliced paths between the trees thinned out until there was only the trail they walked and she knew that leaving now would probably be a longer trip than simply finishing what they started. “You’re stuck with me. In fact, we’re glued together. Forever. Always.” Siobhan liked the idea only because she thought it would horrify the woman. How terrible was it to be going about your tree cult business with someone like her trailing behind? “I’m going to come back every day. I’m going to be boning. I’m going to find you. I’m going to remind you that your fashion is ugly.” She smiled, now accepting the unrealistic idea as the fuel for her jellied legs. If only she could get to the cliff, and then turn this woman’s life into a nightmare as punishment for…well, actually, this was her idea. 

“Are we there now?” Siobhan punished herself enough; she was full of punishment, unable to make room for one more. It would simply have to be deferred to this unfashionable cult member. 

—

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nicole argued under her breath when the woman whined childishly, after being called childish. She seemed to believe she had to prove Nicole wrong, if the weird existential rant that followed was anything to go by. Nicole frowned, hearing words she only understood on a surface level, growing annoyed with herself for being unable to keep up when the other was trying to outsmart her. She shook her head, “Got the wrong person, I don’t think about that stuff,” she opted to lie, in hopes of getting out of a conversation erring into a more serious discussion. “But you got me, I’m not fun—or have a life. Suits me fine.” 

After what had to be the third or fourth insinuation that the woman was something beyond human, Nicole was forced to reckon with the fact. Usually, she preferred making conjectures about supernatural species after lunch. Mornings were often reserved for Nicole to live under the pretense that she worked at a relatively normal job in a slightly weird town. Nothing more. But not even that peace of mind the woman was willing to grant her. Despite her appearance, she claimed to be old. So what? Vampire old? If her reaction to the sun was anything to go by… possibly. Nicole reached for her neck, instinctively brushing the fang marks there. Sure as fuck she didn’t want to find out if her hunch was right. 

“I want peace,” she answered curtly. Why should she need more than a dog to care for, walls to keep the cold away, the comfort of a solid mattress and a kitchen to make a warm meal? When she’d lived the alternative, no— when she’d survived the alternative, it was easy to find fulfillment in small luxuries. “I won’t live several lifetimes like you have, though.” Hopefully, she’d reach a hundred in good condition, a sound mind. To make up for the decade she’d lost to the jaguar. That would be nice. The universe repaying her for what it put her through at a young age. She didn’t linger on her hopes and dreams, focusing on the fact that despite living for many years, the other woman didn’t know shit about life either. Nicole had expected years would bring wisdom and experience, but looking at her companion, anxiety wormed its way into her chest. Was she doomed as well?

Hearing complaints about the sunscreen, Nicole shot a judgemental glance back, ignoring the small pang of pity she’d never dare voice. “I’d offer, but I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” going anywhere near a woman who had stated her intentions to push her off a cliff was plain stupid. She shook her head, answering the second part of the sentence instead. No, they weren’t fucking there yet. Like they weren’t two fucking seconds ago, when the woman asked the same question. They were getting somewhere, however. The path twisted before them, the trees growing dense, canopies closing in for long stretches, then trunks peppered along the trail as the sky revealed itself again. 

It should’ve been a sight that brought relief within Nicole, a step closer to getting rid of the nuisance she’d stumbled upon, but the woman had a different idea. Stuck. Glued. What? Nicole looked back at her, realizing how pleased she looked for coming up with such an evil plan. She smirked despite herself, because the woman’s vindictiveness made her stride faster, stupid inappropriate shoes be damned. Whatever worked for her. “You sure about that?” She drawled through her smile, tugging at her shirt. “Would have to hand you one of these, if you plan on being glued… voluntary ugliness,” she was thankful the woman didn’t know shit about her, otherwise she might have believed she was joking with her. She wasn’t. Didn’t know how to, of course not. “If you say so. Sounds to me like you’re the only one who’s gonna suffer,” because Nicole was slowly getting the hang of the woman’s tantrums. While she’d never had what it took to be a good conversationalist. If anything, only one of the two would find her silent company aggravating. 

“Got no issues with you boning, by the way. Could’ve gotten away with it— if you didn’t dress like you came out of— Scooby Doo,” an information sign ahead of them indicated they were close to the summit. She let out a sigh of relief. “So maybe you didn’t. Want to get away with it, I mean. Maybe you wanted someone to find you,” she mused, forehead creasing. Was that it? Children wanted attention, didn’t they? Most people did, she supposed, though she was foreign to that concept.  

Thankfully, they reached the end of their path a moment later. Crisp air filled her lungs, a much needed dose of oxygen after walking up the trail with an argumentative woman behaving in erratic ways. A wide area of foliage and rock extended ahead of them, giving them a panoramic view from one of the highest points in the park. The sun was at its tallest, rays unforgiving on their skin sure, but illuminating the horizon and showcasing the best of Wicked’s Rest woodlands. The sky was a bright blue, with scarce wisps of clouds that refused to give any kind of shade. Sweat beaded her forehead, but it didn’t matter, it all made up for the trek to get there, and the company she’d brought along the way. She breathed out, taking it all in for a moment, heightened senses attuned to the sounds of nature, allowing the vast landscape before her eyes to speak for itself. A minute passed, then she straightened her back, pointing at the distance. “We’re here. Viewpoint over there, careful with the boundary, or—” No, she didn’t know how that sentence was supposed to end, so she refused to finish it. With a nod, she encouraged the woman to go ahead. “Forgive me if I don’t walk farther than this, I have a murder threat to my name”.

—

The apartments weren’t empty, they were filled with dust—it was the thought that coursed through Siobhan’s mind as the woman claimed not to have a life, not to desire fun. She thought of herself—she was always thinking of herself—and the empty apartment. No, not empty. There was the dust and there was her. If she stayed in one long enough, she became convinced she memorized the pattern of the wood grain. What was the point in furnishing a temporary space? What was the point in doing anything else but her duty? Which then, those forty years, demanded that she wait. Siobhan winced as she recalled it. The humid air transformed into the stuffy aroma of an unused space. Surely, the woman had no idea what she was referring to.

“You’re part of a cult,” Siobhan said. “That’s fun. Clearly you need fun. Clearly you need something.” The idea that anyone could live happily with nothing made her shiver. And then, the idea of peace made her laugh. “No such thing as peace.” Siobhan sneered. “Fate will disrupt you; it always does. And what then? Why desire a falsehood? This world has never known peace.” She should’ve asked the woman what she meant by ‘peace’, as Siobhan herself was unconvinced of it and unsure of the exact definition. However, it was more fun to deny it outright. In her estimation, they were beyond amicable philosophical discussions now. 

But they were not beyond murder. Siobhan imagined it, yearning. She was going down her mental list of all the different kinds of sharp, pointy things—cleaver, stick, fork, particularly sharp pencil—when the ugly-dressed woman dared to interrupt her again. Nevermind the fact that they were having a conversation. “I was not asking,” she said and then: “no, you will not.” It would be a touch of poetic irony if she used a stick to kill her; killed by the very thing she worshiped in her unfashionable cult. “You are attempting to dissuade me from gluing myself to you. You are attempting to pretend as though it would not annoy you. You lie. I will not have to wear the ugly clothes.” Somehow, she was struck with the rather distinct feeling of being treated like a child. The stick she planned to use transformed into a dull, rusted saw. “You’re the one that will suffer.” She was struck with the rather distinct feeling of acting like a child. 

Where was that damnable cliff? “I don’t want to be found. I don’t…” Siobhan’s voice faded away. Didn’t she? Why had she worn the outfit? Because she looked good in it, yes, but who exactly was she expecting to be seen by? No one, of course. But then why? “I don’t wear ugly things, it’s the principle of the matter. The principle of not being ugly. You wouldn’t understand.” But was that enough to explain it? Did that even make sense to her? Siobhan shifted, forever displeased with her own seemingly contradictory nature. “I am not someone who dreams of being found by another.” But wasn’t she? 

Where was that damnable—oh, there it was. Siobhan met the cliffside. The tops of trees like a quarry of green greeted her, the glorious sun embraced her, and the cloud waved to her, rolling over head. At once, her unpleasant attitude dissolved; it was impossible to be mean in the face of nature’s beauty. “Thank you,” she said, and spun immediately to the woman with alarm on her face. If she knew to take it, if she accepted it—she swallowed. Maybe she wouldn’t? Maybe— “I take that back. I take that back.” But it didn’t work that way; she’d said it, the fae magic was out there. “I had decided to use a rusty saw to kill you actually,” she said quickly. “Not the cliff. If you wanted to…” Disgusting. Was she really inviting her over? “Do nothing. Do absolutely nothing. Go turn around and leave. That’s what I want.” 

—

Park Rangers belonged to a cult, according to the woman. One more reason for Nicole to believe she wasn’t talking to a human. She rarely met people who cared so little about concealing that side of themselves. Hell, she could count the number of people who knew about the jaguar in one hand. Not this woman, no. She was too clueless or too proud —perhaps a mix of both— to care about secrecy. It made their previous misunderstandings slightly less annoying. Only slightly. Nicole couldn’t let the murder threat go. She looked back at the woman, who laughed bitterly. She’d given up acting like a child, speaking instead like the jaded old woman she kept claiming to be, talking about fate being disruptive and shit. Nicole couldn’t figure out exactly what emotion weighed in her throat as the woman gave her verdict, —the world has never known peace— but it was tight, and it dragged down its chest like lead. Didn’t she know that too? Didn’t fate disrupt her life at every turn? Maybe peace was an impossible thing to achieve, but Nicole was stupid, wasn’t she? It was previously established. So she’d keep believing in it, hoping for it. Like the idiot she was. She cleared her throat, the only audible proof that she heard what the other said. 

“Not much of a liar,” she grumbled, as the woman doubled down on her “evil” intentions. She kept on walking like she had places to go, finally, so Nicole nourished that energy. “At least you’d have fitting shoes—” Why was the woman attempting to convince her of how awful she was? It was often the other way around, no? People liked to pretend they were better, kinder than what their actions revealed. Nicole trudged past the forest that was her perpetual confusion, determined to follow the conversation. This woman was weird. Contradictory. She was certain that she could cause any of Nicole’s suffering. As if. It was amusing, almost. But the words were consistent with a self-centered monologue. “I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” she dismissed the claims. It was meant to be reassuring, though if the woman’s goal was to cause the suffering— it was likely to have the opposite effect. 

No, she didn’t understand. The list of things Nicole didn’t understand grew longer with each passing day. The other woman wasn’t achieving anything new. “You’re right. I don’t understand,” another thing they could agree on, regardless. She paid no attention to the empty comments and the woman’s fixation on ugliness. She was full of shit, Nicole gathered as much. If she was honest about not wanting to be found— “Gotta be better at hiding, then. Camo print… next time,” perhaps, left to…bone unsupervised, she’d be able to find the elusive peace she claimed not to believe in. 

Cliff-watching didn’t last long. Certainly not for someone who faced the scorching sun to reach the destination. Nicole was wrong, nothing new, it wasn’t a good cliff to push people off. Right, that had to be it. She was displeased, annoyed to be pulled along for this in shoes that looked more like torture devices. The woman didn’t ask for a picture or anything. Nicole considered offering to take one, but again, they were too near the cliffside for her liking. Safety first.

Half expecting a snarky remark after witnessing such a disappointing cliff, Nicole was surprised to hear a thank you. Too abrupt to suppress the expression on her face. She accepted the words with a shrug, aware that she didn’t need them. “You’re welcome, but it’s my jo—” she was cut off by the woman taking her thank you back. Nicole frowned, confusion bringing out a dry laugh, “what— too polite for you?” she almost rolled her eyes, but chose to ignore the outburst. Being thankful seemed to disturb the other woman to the point she needed to get back to making death threats. Fucking weird. Nicole hummed, eyes narrowed. It was a much weaker attempt, though. “You won’t find one big enough,” she dared her, emboldened by her logic. If the woman expected her to cower in fear, she should’ve tried something else. In fact, being friendly to begin with would’ve set off her flight or fight response quicker than cliff-pushing or sawing ever could. 

“If I wanted to do— What?” Nicole blinked at the woman. Did she— miss part of the conversation? Shit. She must’ve been too inside her head to realize it. But no clarification was supplied, instead, the woman seemed adamant about going. And do… nothing? What? Nicole looked behind her, in case a wild animal was creeping nearby, causing the sudden shift. No. Only other hikers reaching the summit. “Right. Uh— Can’t do that. Nothing. Doing my job and shit right now, but—” she gestured back to the trail, “if we descend the other way we’ll find my car. I’ll leave you at one of the exits.” She hesitated, looking over at the viewpoint. No picture then? No picture. Her loss. She shuffled back to the trail, waiting for the other woman, eyebrows furrowed tightly as she replayed the conversation in her head. Whatever she missed, she wouldn’t know until she was alone. For the time being, there was a not-too-happy woman right in front of her, finally ready 

to leave. “I uh— can make the way back entertaining for you, if this wasn’t up to standards,” her frown eased, a small smirk creeping on her face instead. She made sure they were too far gone from the cliff to finish her thought. “Go over what you can and can’t do at the park. Rules. List is long, got plenty of time.” Torturing could go both ways, no?

—

Siobhan walked alongside the ugly-dressed woman, defeated. She did not bone, as she planned. She did not toss this woman off a cliff, as she wanted. The only victory she could claim was knowing that the woman intended to annoy her, but inside the monotonous drawl of her voice listing things-for-Siobhan-to-do—they were rules and thusly things-not-to-do but to Siobhan they were a to-do list—she found an odd measure of peace. The woman’s voice laid out before them as the sounds of the forest did, underscored by the crunch of Siobhan’s heels. She might’ve seemed tortured—stomping around as though she could stamp out the heat—but her erratic thoughts were scooped out. The section on littering only reminded her that she would litter later; something compostable, she wasn’t a monster. The section on after-hours visitation cemented plans to come in the dark. The woman droned on and Siobhan, a chronic insomniac, was sleepy. 

When she crawled into her car, she didn’t consider that it was that feeling—the tension withered from her muscles—that the woman was referring to. Instead, she thought it was odd that a cult should have so many rules. What a boring cult that was and she’d be back to tell the woman all about it. 

[declinlalune]

@nicsalazar replied to your post “[pm] Met a Andy, hi Hey, I Uh met another hunter...”:

[pm] Some fucked up... snake monster. Needed truths to kill, whatever the fuck that means. Ever heard of it? I'm fine. Your cousin? Made it pretty clear he wasn't a threat, yeah. [del: Might reach out, if that's] Can you share his contact info?

​[pm] I'm [...] not familiar. No, I'm sorry. No, he's not. If he were, I wouldn't stick around him, I hope you know that. Oh, of course. [user links Kaden's contact information]

You're okay though, right?

[awhile later]

Can I ask you a question about [...] shifting and stuff?

[recoveringdreamer]

[pm] Hey Fe Hi there. Doing alright? How's Squok... your pet? Showed any interest in the toys?

[pm] Hey! I'm okay! Do you mean Squonkella? She's doing good. She [...] cried on the toys. Maybe that means she likes them?

[chasseurdeloup]

@nicsalazar replied to your post “[pm] Hello This is We met in the Hey I'm Nicole....”:

[pm] Hey. [del: Okay this is wei] Uh, been hiking friends for some time, gotten closer recently. [del: Think we are be] I mentioned this hunter with a weird french accent I met the other day, turns out it was her cousin. [...] I'm... fine. Owe part of that to you. Guess you were pretty quick figuring everything out. What was it?

​[pm] Good, yeah. Safer to go out in the woods with others. Mostly.

Guess I should thank you for not calling it a Canadian accent. Anyway, yeah, that's me. Take it you know she's a hunter, too and vice versa. Considering.

Anyway, I figured that thing was probably a bethier. Snake monster, wasn't a basilisk, so it was a decent bet. Only it wasn't that. Well, it was but it was a different kind. A fraus. Scorpion tail gave it away. I, uh, I grew up hunting and learning all this shit. Doesn't really go away. Not in this town.

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Early January LOCATION: Darkling Lake PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Nicole (@nicsalazar) SUMMARY: Wyatt thinks he’s found a nice midnight snack. He hasn’t. It’s an ustra, but he doesn’t know that. Neither does Nicole, who happens to be out walking the banks of the lake that night. The pair team up to take the creature down, but it doesn’t go so well for Wyatt. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

—

It wasn’t often camp set so close to Darkling Lake. For good reason. Firefighters were wise enough not to get too familiar with the territory, its bleak reputation influential enough to defer to places nearby when in need of an anchor point. But, with fire season well on the way, it wasn’t always sensible, and sometimes the most awful of fires required drastic measures.

The day had been exhausting. Digging up the fireline, reducing fuel and the general stress of, well, everything —work and real life— weighed heavily on Nicole’s body, her muscles so sore she didn’t think sleep would come easily. When the night fell and the new crew came in, some firefighters had found their way back to the main tent. Others, like her, preferred to sleep on the forest ground, ready if emergency called.  

Nicole twisted one final time in her sleeping bag before she let out a frustrated groan and rose to her feet again. Maybe a walk would help her get rid of all the adrenaline still coursing through her body, hindering her rest. So, with the excuse of going to find the bathroom, she grabbed a banana, a bottle of water and strolled away from the rest of the team.

Despite all the stories she had heard about the lake, she couldn’t deny its beauty. And at night? Everything was as breathtaking as it was eerie. It was an interesting combination, Nicole decided, though she was speaking from the comfort of her own experiences with the lake. Which had all been good in the past, when she’d visited Teagan. Except for the first time, but she’d rather not dwell on almost drowning right now.

Unsurprisingly, the walk had managed exactly the goal she had in mind, her body feeling a lot less jittery and restless once she had set a constant pace. So of course, something had to go and disturb her peace. 

Her stomach plummeted as the scent of decomposition reached her nostrils. Nicole whipped her head around, gaze trying to pin down the source. Luckily for her, there was nothing. She wasn’t in the mood to find bodies lying around. Not that there was ever a mood for that. Picking up her steps, she navigated her way back to camp, until a figure near the water caught her attention.

It couldn’t be taller than Leah. Whoever— whatever that was, they were risking a lot by standing near the edge. That’s how Nicole almost—

She had likely not concealed her steps very carefully, because the figure was alerted of her presence, twisting around and revealing its supernatural form in the process. That was no woman, it required little to no observation to gather that. But it would take a moment for Nicole to go over her mental notes to figure out exactly what type of beast she’d encountered. The creature kept its distance, though it was clearly preparing for something. 

Under no circumstances Nicole could’ve predict it was to spit something at projectile speed, aiming at her. She dodged, by the grace of her enhanced agility, but she knew it was time to run before she found out the real purpose of that substance. Just in time, however, something else appeared ready to join the “fun”, as Nicole picked up extra movement in their vicinity.  

—

A quick, easy meal, he’d thought. Some creepy little fucking humanoid skulking around the edge of the lake, unaware of the danger that lurked beneath the water. Though truth be told, Wyatt was the one in danger, though he didn’t know it. He’d seen one of these once, when he was just a little hatchling back in the bayous of Louisiana, but his mother had quickly dispatched it. He couldn’t remember much about it other than it spit something that seemed corrosive, but he was under the impression that such a defense mechanism would prove useless against his tough exterior. Surely it must, if mama had made such easy work of it!

But then things became more complicated, because there was a human (apparent) on the banks drawing its attention, and—damnit. Damnit. Wyatt didn’t make a habit of protecting random passerby from the local fauna, but his conscience got the better of him and stirred him from where he hung deathly still in the water, his crocodilian head no longer appearing like just a log in the still waters. 

The lamia slipped toward the bank with haste, scaly body rising almost silently from the water as it grew more and more shallow. The creature between them was focused on the woman, not hearing the low rumble that accompanied the parting of Wyatt’s long, deadly jaws until the lamia was almost upon it. It screeched, scrabbling through the mud to get away from him, barely escaping the loud snap of his teeth slamming together in a bite that bore no fruit. He let out an angry bellow, slithering between the stranger and the beast, challenging it to come closer. It wouldn’t, hiding in the reeds and spitting at them from a distance, an attack that the lamia was able to dodge. “Gonna have to do better than that, pig roast!” His attention briefly swung to the woman behind him, and he huffed out a breath. “You good?” 

—

Some sort of… creature rose out of the water too. Crocodile. Alligator? Fuck if Nicole knew the difference. She was too busy fucking dodging spit to examine more closely and settle that. She immediately realized she was a good distraction, though. Not something she ever wanted to be, but when the creature by the lake was too busy trying to get her instead of noticing what slithered behind, then… Nicole could try to be more distracting. She stepped away from the trees she used as cover, showing herself out in the open for the monster to get. It looked like it was working at least, until the crocodile snapped at it and it wasn’t quite the powerful bite it should’ve been. The monster slipped away, screeching in the process. Likely disturbing other wildlife lurking in the shadows. There was a moment —brief, but there— where Nicole considered whether the jaguar should join in or not. If it would be smarter to let two beasts have at the monster rather than one. 

The animal slithered to a halt outside his lake, putting himself between her and the monster, adopting a protective stance. And that should have been enough to tell Nicole that this was no ordinary animal. Dogs could be protective. Cats too, sometimes, if they got their heads out of their asses. But a crocodile? Nicole was open to the idea, strange as it was, and took this gesture as an invitation to retreat to the trees, to hide as the monster continued to shoot at them. Or she could leave and let the animal take care of the rest. That was what she was supposed to be doing before she got attacked. Running. Nicole did none of that because a voice reached her ears and froze her in the spot. 

What the fuck didn’t cover it. The crocodile—alligator, whatever the fuck hybrid spoke, checking in on her. Eyes bulging, the momentary shock made it so the monster’s spit nearly touched her. She ducked in time, again by the virtue of flexible clavicles, hearing it hit the leaves behind them. Right. There was no time for shock. She knew humans could shift into all kinds of animals. This wasn’t new. Or it was, but not in any way that should have Nicole unable to team up with…him. Her mind was spinning, but survival always came first. “Been better— got any idea what that thing is?” Not that it fucking mattered, of course. A time and place for all that. But it did matter, in a way. Nicole was no fighter, but she’d been able to get rid of dangerous creatures before, depending on their weaknesses. Leah had taught her well. Knowing where in the wide realm of Wicked’s Rest bullshit this one fit could give some indication as to how to get rid of it. Because— “Something tells me we shouldn’t let it go free”. She reached for her backpack, forgetting she wasn’t carrying her hatchet. How else was she going to defend herself? Something stabbed between her ribs, cold and demanding. The spirit. No, she wasn’t doing that. Not after it got hurt. “Can work distracting her, you’ll— you…” her forehead creased. Was she really speaking to an alligator? “You get your dinner” she mumbled without much conviction, before blowing a tense breath and moving into the spotlight.

—

“Nope! Doesn’t look as tasty up close as it did from the water, neither!” Wyatt returned, his gaze fixed on the bipedal thing trying its best to land a spit hit. “But I never turned down a new chew toy before, got no reason to start now!” He kept quiet while the stranger moved to attract the monster’s attention and try to give him a better shot at getting in there and getting a good bite on this thing, lurking in the darkness and waiting for the opportune moment. 

It came when the monster realized it wasn’t going to get anywhere just standing here, and seemed to hesitantly move away from the water and towards Nicole. It clearly was not as clever a creature as Wyatt (which was not an especially high bar), seeming to forget the scaly shifter that had almost made an appetizer of it only minutes before, focusing wholly on the dark-haired woman as it advanced forward. Wyatt took advantage of this and moved up behind it again, primed to sprint on all fours right for it once he felt the moment was right. It was getting uncomfortably close to the woman and he grit his teeth, bounding forward with more speed than one would expect from such a large shifter. 

The thing, whatever it was, might not have been clever, but it wasn’t deaf. It whipped around as the lamia barreled down upon it, a long, prehensile tongue rocketing out of its gaping mouth (ew) and shooting right for the massive alligator-creature’s throat. Wyatt felt it make contact but didn’t slow down, crashing down onto the humanoid with 2,000 pounds of weight. And that mass may have been his only saving grace, because the ustras’s venom didn’t immediately paralyze him, though he did quickly notice he was having difficulty with his flexibility. 

Sometimes, having such a large snout was a hindrance, and he couldn’t quite get a good grip on the creature. Besides that, it was stronger than it looked, holding his jaws apart while the spines on its back stabbed into his tongue and coated his mouth in a horrible, bitter taste. He tried to bite down, snorting and huffing and generally making a pretty big fuss over it as he lost more and more of his mobility. His breaths became faster, more panicked as he realized something was wrong. The tongue that’d attached itself to his neck had retreated from that spot, but he thought he felt it on the roof of his mouth, instead. 

The shifter let out a terrified bellow, and it was pretty clear he was rapidly losing the ability to defend himself. 

—

It was talking, yes. Nicole wasn’t hallucinating. Somewhat of a relief but— What the fuck? Provided she made it out alive out of this new encounter with a deadly creature, she’d have to go look into reptile shifters. The one joining forces with her tonight must’ve had such incredible control over its transformation to be able to do any of that. A wave of admiration swept through her as she held the crocodile’s gaze for a moment, though it was quickly replaced by the more familiar cocktail of guilt and shame. Whose fault was it that she couldn’t claim to have equal control over her shifts? Right. 

Nicole stepped nearer, picking up on new details on the other creature’s face. The slimy complexion, the unsettling muscles for such a small body. And the tongue, impossibly long as it was flaunted in a threatening manner. This was supposed to be good, however. The monster thought Nicole was stupid enough to get close with no plan. Perhaps it was already thinking how it was going to feed off her. But Nicole was counting on the element of surprise, even as she had to dodge another wad of spit aimed at her. She recovered just in time to see the crocodile hybrid charge at the monster. The thud shook the ground beneath her boots, but it was hardly an inconvenience when she was certain this meant the quick hashed out plan had worked and the enemy had been defeated. 

It— It didn’t look like the crocodile was winning, though. Not after the initial collision, where he had come out on top. The long-haired monster made good use of those muscles, preventing the animal's maw from delivering a final blow that surely would’ve resulted in the creature’s demise. After that, the reptile thing began struggling. Nicole noticed its lethargic movements, heard its erratic breathing, as the horrible monster proved to have more than vile spit to defend itself. Making it a tricky opponent. They had underestimated it solely on their size. Nicole should’ve known better than that. 

In the face of adversity, it was the moment to consider her options. She could run, that thought hardly ever left her. She could run and let this crocodile hybrid perish. The monster wasn’t agile enough for her, and she knew the woods well enough to lose it amid the trees. But she had this thing —a conscience— keeping her rooted to her spot. The crocodile— alligator… fuck if she knew, had intervened before, when it was Nicole’s life on the line. She should return the favor. She should return the favor not only because it was the right thing to do, but because she still believed they couldn’t let a monster like that get away and risk innocent people from stumbling upon it. A pulse, cold but insistent, struck in her chest. The jaguar wanted something. To fight. To solve this. Save her and the crocodile. She was reluctant, not so much out of fear of her own spirit anymore, but in an attempt to protect what remained of the beast. Are you sure? She asked. Another pulse in response. They had a small advantage, she figured. Knowing how the monster took down bigger predators. Her heart pounded in her ears as understanding dawned on her: It might as well be their only chance. 

Her body shook as she released a calming breath. Her muscles were still tight, shoulders still tense, but there was no time to collect herself. Nicole pleaded with the spirit for a smooth transition. And luckily for her, the jaguar was in a mood to comply. It ripped through her in an ethereal mist, its physical shift so quick, she barely registered any pain. The beast was already in motion as its paws stepped into the forest floor, leaping with coiled energy toward the monster. Feral bite found purchase in the creature’s windpipe, tearing and mangling. Gurgling noises filled the night air as the vampire released its grip on the alligator and attempted to take down the jaguar too. Two beasts against one, there was no chance it was walking out this in one piece. 

—

The corners of Wyatt’s vision darkened dangerously and he shook his great head to try to fight it off, but his movements were becoming more restricted by the moment. He couldn’t kill it. He just needed to bite down on its stupid head and rip it off, and he couldn’t. It was poisoning him, paralyzing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was helpless… and that was a new feeling. A new fear. He’d never been helpless before. He’d never lost a fight before. Never been in a position he couldn’t get himself back out of, if he really put his mind to it. Even that night that Owen had dragged him out to the woods and fed him a deer to help him heal his wounds, he would have lived if left on his own, it just might not have been pretty. But this? This thing was intent on feeding, and it would make sure there wasn’t enough left of Wyatt to heal. He was going to die, unless—

Something came barrelling into them, and suddenly the pressure of the ustra’s tongue as it tried to slip down the back of his throat was gone. His jaws fell shut, snapping loudly and allowing him to finally see what was—oh. 

There was a wildcat. Not the Wildcat, not Felix, but a cat nonetheless. Yellow, slitted eyes watched the feline tear at the throat of the creature, adrenaline dumping in his system once more as renewed hope tried to lift him from where he lay among the grass and reeds. “Rip…” Wyatt wheezed at the cat, shifting lamely in the mud. “Rip the h-head off…” It was meant to be a much more inspiring shout but he could hardly speak, let alone yell. “Watch out for… spines.. tongue.” Ugh. He had to help hold the thing still if he could—he was already succumbing to the paralysis, so what did a little more matter? With one final great burst of effort, the lamia heaved himself forward and let the weight of his head crash down on top of the ustra, pinning it to the ground across its legs and middle and leaving the head and throat exposed for the balam to take care of. 

—

The instruction was lost on the jaguar, who –at best– was able to pick up on a certain inflection in the other animal’s cry. A warning of sorts. With the momentary advantage of a disarming tackle, the jaguar examined its foe. Of course, it was no common prey. If it was prey at all. The jaguar had watched it measure up to the much larger alligator with relative ease before it intervened. So what was it? What made it a formidable opponent despite its ordinary size? The jaguar battled against a slimy composition, slippery as the monster tried getting away despite its torn throat. Dark blood oozed from the injury, coating the jaguar’s fur. It had seen something similar before. In the beast with red eyes, the one who attacked amidst the red fog. Angry about the similarities, angry about being overpowered at the time, the jaguar took it on the monster beneath. Its sharp claws sliced the head, and a screech cut through the air. 

And then the booming of a heavyweight slamming against the forest floor froze everything for a moment. The monster had been pinned down by the alligator, who had dragged himself to help. Not even the slippery build of the monster would be able to slide away now. And it seemed to be aware of its imminent demise. Poisonous spit came out aimlessly, as much as it could produce with a torn mouth, but it never landed on the jaguar. Who, wasting no time, lunged forward again, aiming to rip the head off. Viciously tearing through flesh, trying to find a tasty bit to chew on, but giving up when nothing satisfied it. What a nasty creature. What remained of the head rolled down the grass, with a look of horror plastered on its ugly features and its once dangerous tongue hanging out of its mouth. But the jaguar cared very little now, a limp body lay beneath it. This was no meal. But—

It turned toward the alligator, getting a better look at the animal. The jaguar tilted its head curiously. It wouldn’t feast on the monster, its bitter taste still coating the jaguar’s mouth, but wouldn’t the alligator be fair game? It was weakened, bordering on paralyzed. A pathetic beast on the ground. An easier prey would never be seen; rather, not of this size. The jaguar had been unlucky in past outings. The red fog, the beast that cut its tail, the giant termites, and so on. Was tonight the night it gained back its pride, its title of predator? It would be so nice, to wash the awful taste of the monster with a more enticing meal. It stalked forward, amber gaze fixed on the back of the animal’s skull. Where it could land a merciful blow. Rarely inclined to violence for the sake of it. The alligator had the human’s back after all. But something pushed underneath the surface, slowed down its movements. Tried suppressing the animal instinct, the predator impulse that made this the inevitable conclusion to the evening. 

The jaguar grumbled in protest, and unlike the time against the insects, nothing about the battle for the body was kind. Neither the human nor the spirit wanted to let go. There was no kindness or understanding between them. The human wanted control. The jaguar fought back and came out on top, for a moment. Dissuaded from taking on the alligator just yet. Its tongue dragged across razor-sharp teeth, but instead of pouncing, the jaguar approached slowly, its stump for a tail stood tall. Alert. Why would the human –Nicole, it conceded reluctantly– oppose eating it? She never had before. What the jaguar did, was the jaguar’s choice. That much they agreed on. 

But the alligator had made sounds before, hadn’t he? Was that the reason for apprehension? There was no spirit within him, so— What made it different from a common alligator? It was the moment of curiosity, of indecision that had Nicole grasping control. Holding onto consciousness, navigating through the mist, until the jaguar’s body shifted to fit her. Her eyes were wide in surprise, as the edge of the lake welcomed her back into the world. How the fuck did she do that? “What do you need?” she rasped out, a shaky hand reaching for the crocodile’s— or, well she still wasn’t sure— she touched a massive jaw, self-preservation going out of the window at the sight of the animal struggling with his body. 

—

The relief was immense as the cat ripped the stupid beast’s head off, and for a moment, Wyatt was able to relax. That is until he instinctively tried to get back to his feet, only to remember that he could not. Letting out a long, weary sigh, the gator tried to focus on the positive—at least his lungs were still working in spite of the paralytic. It’d be unfortunate if those gave out. Unable to do much else, he laid there in the muck, yellow eyes closed in an attempt to find some calm. But… what of the cat? The woman? 

He peeked with one eye and saw the balam staring at him with a look in its eye that was… unsettling. Familiar—he’d seen it enough times in the reflections of glass and water, but unsettling to be on the other side of it. His jaws parted and he let out a low, rumbling hiss—a warning to back off, as best he could convey in his current state. Something worked, because eventually the cat’s temperament seemed to even out, and then she was back. The woman from the woods. 

Her hand reached for him and he snorted, keeping his mouth open as he felt her fingers brush close to his teeth. Speaking was… proving to be a challenge. He considered shifting to look more like her, but there was a fear that if he got any smaller, the paralytic would do even more damage. All he could do was flick his gaze in the direction of the water, then back down at her. His mouth slowly closed, careful not to catch any of her phalanges, and he tried to get a few words out on the exhale. 

“Home. Warm.” His cabin was across the water, visible as pricks of golden light shining from between the trees on the distant shore. “... push.” His limbs that didn’t want to work right stirred to life, lethargic but scraping and scrabbling in the dirt as he tried to hoist himself up off his belly and drag himself closer to the water. Floating back home would be much easier... all he needed to manage was a few flicks of his tail now and then. 

—

For a second time in such a short period, Nicole had managed to revert the jaguar’s shift. How? What had changed for them to suddenly find ways to understand one another? Was she simply getting better at controlling the beast? It wasn’t the time to celebrate, however. Her chest felt chilly and tight, as if the spirit was trying to squeeze back into position. And in front of her, the crocodile —or…?— looking all too fragile for such a powerful animal. Blood pounded in her ears while she approached the beast. She kept her palm as far away from its teeth as possible, trying not to get bitten in the process. He was struggling, visibly. Bile rose in her throat watching the animal as he tried to communicate. Had the jaguar struggled similarly, with the sleeping dart? Did it put up a fight against the hunter? Tears stung in her eyes, but quickly batted them away. She couldn’t entertain those thoughts when her help was needed.

Home. As soon as he spoke, Nicole’s gaze darted to the lake. Then spotted the lights in the distance, eyebrows knitting while she contemplated the instruction. He certainly didn’t expect her to carry him all the way to the cabin. Right? She was as strong as a firefighter could be, sure, but not carrying a crocodile-alligator-human strong. So— The cabin… The water. Was he like Teagan? Could the lake heal him? Was that what— Did that make him closer to fae than to shifters like herself? Shit. Hardly mattered, didn’t it? What the reasoning behind his instruction was. He wanted to get back into the lake, that much Nicole could understand. “Okay. I will. Need a second” she nodded, pushing herself off the ground.  

Nicole felt the harsh cold against her skin as she searched around for the clothes that were left behind during the shift. Just like her previous encounter with the other jaguar, some of her clothes didn’t survive. When she returned to camp, how the fuck was she going to explain the torn pants? If the plan was to keep making impromptu shifts —her stomach weighed heavy with anxiety, disagreeing with the idea— then she would have to come up with a better system to keep her things safe. She didn't have a large closet to begin with. She couldn’t keep losing more items because of the jaguar. That would be entertaining for Leah, wouldn’t it? A quick excuse to restock her wardrobe. She mentally groaned at the idea of going shopping. She seized her pants and her windbreaker jacket, and quickly put on her clothes again, uncomfortably aware that there was a crocodile gasping and writhing not too far from her. 

But with some layers on, Nicole felt more at ease and prepared to tackle the task at hand. Pushing the animal back to the water. Couldn’t be that hard, especially with the beast trying to help despite being under the effects of the monster’s spit. She moved closer, positioning just behind him and pushed with everything she had left. He didn’t move much, or fast at all, but a few breaks to catch her breath and then finally, came the splashing sound as he slipped inside the lake. Nicole didn’t move, fear bubbling in her chest, frozen as she watched the animal get accustomed to the water. Waiting for something to go wrong. Could he even swim? But he did. He floated, slowly but surely he began moving, switching directions toward his cabin, and then drifted away.  

—

Well… he’d certainly had better hunts. In fact, this might’ve been the worst one thus far. His mother’s voice filled the silence between their joined efforts to get him back in the water. I done told ya boy, ya can’t go messin’ wid every critter ya see. ‘Specially dem ones dat ain’t in da Britannicas. Sense, ya gotta have some sense! She was right, as usual. It’d been stupid to go after that thing like he had—he just hoped the cost of his ego wasn’t permanent. 

Hissing a sigh of relief as his body finally slid into the water, the gator immediately felt somewhat better now that his own body weight wasn’t slowing him down so much, supported by his natural buoyancy. He began to drift back toward his cabin without a word, but then thought better of it. Manners. Manners n’ sense, n’ you’ll get t’rough dis world just fine, boy. 

Angling his head back in the stranger’s direction, he blinked his yellow eyes slowly like a cat might to show trust. They’d probably get that. With some effort, the lamia lifted his head more fully out of the water, parting his jaws to speak again. 

“Thanks,” he groaned. “Wyatt Barlow. Look me up. Owe you a drink.” And with that, he ducked down again so only his eyes showed above the water, flicking his tail as best he could and steering himself back toward the opposite shore. 

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: Mid August PARTIES: Nicole @nicsalazar & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Mistwood Park SUMMARY: Nicole and Inge visit the cemetery for their own reasons late at night and strike up a conversation, which is soon interrupted by a reanimated corpse. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gore, beheading, child death

There was something about Mistwood Park that pushed it to the top of Nicole’s list of favorite cemeteries to visit. (Yes, including Jericho ground, which had only one redeeming quality: its walking distance). That something being the arboretum. Even before she developed an interest for wandering around cemeteries, Mistwood Park had been a common stop. She could’ve spent hours trekking through beautiful mausoleums and even more stunning landscapes, provided with peace and quiet she could never find in Old Jericho.

So now, as Nicole tried to get in touch with that pesky spirit side of hers and thus making cemetery visits much more frequent, it was only natural to have a ranking. Leah would be proud. And yes, Mistwood was at the top.

The sun had set before she arrived, and then she went and got lost for an hour in the arboretum before deciding to head back to the burying grounds. All planned that way, so there’d be less of a chance of someone stumbling upon Nicole trying to see ghosts. It was, after all, the whole point of these visits. 

She had chosen to sit against the wall of a mausoleum, knees sinking into overgrown foliage, bag close to her left thigh, as Nicole mentally prepared for what she had to do. Shifting her gaze (or any part of her) wasn’t something she could do on a whim. Her concentration was broken even before she could start, as the sound of shuffling steps reached her ears. She craned neck around, searching for the source of the sound. “Who’s there?” she tried, hand ghosting over her backpack where she felt the outline of her hatchet.

While creepy locations were easy to create in the dream plane, where Inge could move and manipulate the world, that didn’t mean she didn’t like visiting them on the earthly plane too. There was something inspiring about the darker nooks and crannies of Wicked’s Rest and besides, cemeteries were favored places of plenty of immortals. Ingeborg wouldn’t mind striking up a connection with a couple more of them, considering the hunter she’d come across.

And then there was, she supposed deep down, something about a place like this – created for mourning, for resting the death – that pulled her towards it. Visiting her daughter’s actual grave was too heavy, too confrontational and so she often didn’t return to the motherland to do as much. But here, she could somewhat pretend she was being healthy about it, all those people she had lost over the course of seventy years.

There were glasses with tinted lenses perched on the top of her head, ready to be pulled out should any mortal/hunter/other pest come across her path. With the sun gone, her eyes were glowing that soft red hue. She personally loved it, but it did raise some questions from time to time.

But what good was a cemetery during daytime? So here Inge was, moving around and feeling almost meditative. How healthy this was: reflecting on her losses. Getting inspiration. Hoping to meet some undead like her. When a voice popped up, her sunnies came down and Inge moved toward it, turning a corner. “No one special. I’m just, ah. Visiting someone. I prefer it at night, when it’s quieter.” She looked at the other, lifted her shoulders. “And it’s a nice night, out.”

Nicole moved her hand away from her backpack, if only for a moment. She was certainly less on edge as a feminine figure revealed herself but still, monsters liked to take any sort of deceptive shapes. But when her explanation came, she felt her face heat up. Right, of course. Cause that’s what people came to a cemetery for. To visit people, not— partake in weird ghost experiments. And another, more embarrassing thought lodged in her hyperactive brain. “Oh— right. Shit, is it…” she jumped back on her feet, pulling the bag with her. She turned to the mausoleum she had just been sitting against, pointing with her thumb. “It’s not here, right? I was just taking a break from… walking” she nodded, maintaining a serious expression.  

The moment she stood, Nicole was able to get a better look of the woman. Her shades were a little odd. Especially at night. Could she see anything at all? Nicole didn’t want (wasn’t ready, more like) to dive deeper into that line of thought, because Leah wasn’t here and she had been advice against asking too many questions for the sake of sating her curiosity. This woman must’ve had some eye problem, and that was it. Rational answer.  “Cool glasses” she pointed out, a friendly smile on her face. In case, you know, the figure in front of her was about to grow ten feet tall and sprout wings or something.  

“Yes. Yeah it’s nice. I was, um— I was visiting the arboretum nearby,” Nicole explained, realizing she had been quiet for a while. Picturing all sorts of dangerous beasts. “You seen it? Best one in town”.

Inge shook her head. “Oh, no, it’s quite a bit further down.” As if any of her family would ever reside in a mausoleum in Maine. She thought of Vera’s grave, back home and how simple it was. She hadn’t wanted a lot of fanfare, though it really hadn’t been as if Inge had been in one the funeral arrangements a lot. A mother wasn’t supposed to lose a child anyhow, so perhaps it had been for the best. “Take a break all you need. I won’t take offense.” 

The glasses drew some attention, but at least it drew attention away from what was below it. She offered a small smile, a nod of her head. “Oh, you think so? Nice of you to say.” She pushed them a little further onto her eyes, not giving any explanation. To say that she wear them to make a statement or to emit a cool energy would be rather pathetic, and to claim nightblindness or an infection might bite her in the ass later. 

“Yes, I do like it there. There’s something special about that place at night too, but it’s at its best during those first days of spring, hm?” Inge had grown fond of the Maine climate and the way the seasons looked here. She let her gaze drift around the darkness, wondering if the woman across from her was a mere human, running a risk by being at a graveyard post-sundown, or if she was something more similar to herself. While considering a question that could prod at her nature, she heard a branch snap. Head swiveling to the dark behind her, she saw only the outlines of various headstones. “Huh.”

Nicole breathed out in relief. The last thing she wanted was to be caught doing something disrespectful. Though when it cames to hanging out with ghosts, she was probably treading a fine line, wasn’t she? “Yeah… yeah” she nodded at her question, even though it was likely she wasn’t actually looking for an answer. But, whatever helped escaping potential murder. She kept a polite smile in place as the woman talked about the cemetery. She wanted to interject, speak some more about the arboretum, but the shuffling sound intensified around them, killing the conversation. 

It was soon evident that whatever threat Nicole would face tonight wasn’t in front of her, wearing tinted lenses. The footsteps echoed again, and a branch snapped, despite both women standing still. “There’s definitely something else out there,” she muttered, mimicking the woman’s action and peeking from the side of the mausoleum. Nothing but empty headstones and graves in sight. All of them too small to conceal anything with such heavy footfalls. 

She lifted a finger, a warning to the other woman to remain where she was, while Nicole took stepped forward with the intention of checking out the source of the noise. It was probably a dog or something similar she could easily scare away. 

It wasn’t that. Far from it. 

A figure appeared amid the shadows, slowly creeping towards them. It looked human sized. “Hey, you scared—” the words died in her tongue. The more Nicole looked at this person approaching, the more it felt like things weren’t adding up. She ignored the sinking dread in the pit of her stomach, and tried again, softly. “You… okay?”. It was the all too familiar stumbling gait that had Nicole wondering if they were in the presence of a common drunk, but when she reached out to help balance them out, the figure jumped her. She didn’t get a chance to stand her ground before the dead weight brought both bodies tumbling to the forest ground. 

A thrill ran through her body like an electric current. Inge didn’t tend to get scared anymore, numbed to the emotion she put others through night after night. But she did get excited and, at times, worried. Cemeteries attracted the undead, namely vampires, and places that attracted the undead also tended to come with slayers. Had her eyes given her away? Her method of traveling, perhaps? Or was this just a random creature, one of the many strange ones this town had to offer?

Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t just a boring old hedgehog.

Even with her night vision, she saw very little until the thing got close. Was it using the shadows and objects to its advantage? It was a person, though that said little about its threat level. Inge wanted to meet its eyes, see if she’d see red reflected in them, but remained rather stagnant. There was something about the way it moved that intrigued her, a flesh wound like quality to its neck. Its paleness could be attributed to the lack of light around them, maybe, but she somehow hoped it was something else.

Distantly, she became aware of the fact that she wasn’t alone in her observation of it. “Careful,” she spoke, though it was too late. Inge watched the creature jump the stranger, the pair of them rolling around the funeral ground. A twisted part wanted to keep watching, wanted to know what this decidedly not-just-human was going to do with her fellow cemetery patron.

However, it would be ill-advised to act so cruelly and apathetically with a stranger who lived in town. Her reputation here was more fragile than it was in a large city. Fucking small towns. So in stead Inge jumped up, pushed by a rare excitement and she tried to grab the thing. It looked dead, but it was somehow alive — undead, most likely, but nothing like her or the glamorous vampires she’d come across. It reminded her of the zombies popular media adored. Fingers dug into mushy flesh, trying to gain some kind of upper hand as she spared a look at the other. “Can you get out from under it? Go on, go!” 

She regretted her decision as soon as the body dipped forward. She should’ve taken the woman’s warning more seriously. Nicole flopped onto the ground, the body on top feeling a lot like dead weight. Even as she struggled to get it off her, her brain didn’t turn off. She couldn’t say she had an extensive history with zombies, but from the little she’d seen, they didn’t look or feel like the one above her, who now grasped her shoulders with surprising strength. Like it was going to attempt smashing her against the ground. Was it hungry maybe? Losing its control because of it? That couldn’t be too good for her, right? Shit.

She heard the shuffling steps of her companion as she approached, willing to help. Two against one was a lot easier to overpower, and as the woman pulled the body back, Nicole dug into biceps and pushed forward, allowing a small gap for her to roll out of the monster’s hold. It fell face forward, soil smeared on what looked like a melted face. 

Scrambling to her feet, Nicole was able to get a better look of the attacker. Still, her mind couldn’t process whatever this body was supposed to be. One thing felt clearer, however. No zombie. But probably something more sinister. “Thank y—” she panted, forcing her facial muscles to work a smile. She wasn’t sure if it came across as one, but she didn’t have time to overthink it, because the body had risen, and was stumbling towards them again. Its arms extended, not unlike those zombies on tv, but instead of stretching for her, it tried to grab the woman’s neck. Nicole reached for her bag, discarded on the floor, and began rummaging for her hatchet.

She let go of the rotting flesh, wiping her hands on the clothes on the body’s back before leaping back, a look of genuine disgust on her face. It was not so much the corpse or its actions itself, but rather the fact that it had gotten onto her physical form. Inge was used to none of these things being real, all of it dreams or art — nothing about it affecting this ever-failing body of hers. Whenever things stirred her physically it was usually because some son-of-a-bitch hunter (literally). 

And yet she was intrigued, watching the body move the way a zombie might have in a shitty 80s horror movie. Inge took note of the way it moved, the way it seemed not wholly aware of it — as if possessed, or pushed by an external force or just really out of it. “Sure thing,” she said, digging into her pockets to try and see if she had anything useful on her.

Because while this was intriguing, she was not interested in becoming whatever this body wished of her. (Not that Inge could become a zombie herself, after all: she knew what happened to mares when they died.) As she dug for her knife, she forgot to pant in panic like a human would, forgot to pay proper mind and as the body barreled towards her with outstretched arms, she was too late to duck. Rotting fingers enclosed around her throat and she let out a wrangled noise, even if she wasn’t actually choking. Inge moved up her own arm, trying to stab the stupid thing in its bicep. It seemed not to mind, though, that she broke its skin and so she tried again, glad that she no longer needed oxygen to live.

Nicole moved on instinct alone, her enhanced agility finally kicking in. She had the hatchet in hand in a second, and when she turned back to the woman, she saw her trying to use a knife against the zombie’s —not zombie?— arm. It felt no pain, she realized. Didn’t scream, didn’t halt, as much as the woman sank the blade, it didn’t deter the attack. So what did that mean? They might need magic means to get rid of the creature. Means she didn’t have with her. What she did have was the hatchet, which she could still use to at least get the monster away from the woman. 

She sunk it on the corpse’s back, grimacing as the flesh posed more resistance than expected. The creature felt nothing, again. With some effort, Nicole pulled to remove the hatchet and struck again, aiming for the shoulder. The figure let go of the woman as a result, attention turning back to her. That was something at least. Unaware of the space it had between the two women, the monster staggered, and it took a simple shove for it to stumble face forward onto the ground. “Hold it down for a second, I’ll aim for the head” she shot the woman a fierce look, the adrenaline pumping inside making her sound far more collected than she felt.

Because she was about to— she had to— The body underneath her was about to be— Yes, it was already dead, yes it attacked first, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t human. Or did it, maybe? It was fucking confusing. Nicole didn’t know a lot about many things, but she knew to aim for the head when she had no other way to stop a creature. Decapitation and fire, Leah had taught her, were some of the best defense options against Wicked’s rest dangers. 

Jaw tight, she extended her arms to measure the right spot for the blade to hit. She hovered closer to the back of its head. The easy part. She chopped wood every winter, same logic had to apply, right? Right? It was just…a tougher log. She could do this. She could, she could. Her grip was steady as she raised the hatchet over her head. She tried to go over every correct step in her head. The stance, the distance. She knew this, but logic had no hold on her heartbeat, which was coming up her ears. She spared one last glance to the woman, then back to the corpse. It felt surreal, what she was about to do. It was already dead. Her gaze fixed on the target with more determination. Whatever had woken up this body, it wasn’t their fault, but she had to do this.

Nicole swung, letting gravity do the work for her. The blade whistled only for a second as it sliced through the air. A sharp thump followed. The sound was all she needed to know it was a solid hit. But she couldn’t look at it, it would all become too real. She lifted her weapon, repeating the action once, then twice, jaw clenched so tight it was starting to hurt her teeth. And when she allowed herself one short glance at the end result, she would’ve liked to scream. Release the adrenaline coursing through her. But she couldn't get it out. It was trapped inside her ribcage, stifled by the shock and horror. Her chest heaved, trying to process the skull pinned by the blade, its interiors spilling all over. Underneath her boot, the body had stopped writhing. She looked up at her companion, eyes wide in fear. 

She had a hatchet. This stranger in the graveyard had a fucking hatchet. Inge tried not to assume the worst, but some kind of instinct did kick in — this was a weapon that could be used for decapitation. Had she, somehow, managed to get cornered by a reanimated corpse with a slayer? It would be her luck, wouldn’t it: that she somehow managed to get herself in a situation like this. She continued her struggle, perhaps more frantic now that another weapon was on the scene, and she hoped desperately that it was only meant for the corpse and not her.

But the stranger aimed for the corpse, whose hands seemed to tighten around her throat at the first impact but let go at the second, Inge moving back a step or two as she changed her grip on the knife. Ready for another attack but also looking at what the other was doing. She could just escape and leave her to her own devices, run off in the astral and not look back. It was the cowardly thing to do, certainly, but she’d given into cowardly instincts plenty of times over the past few years. It had kept her alive up until now.

The other was capable, though, the undead thing sprawled on the ground and a command thrown towards Inge who decided to oblige. Adrenaline made her sharp, after all, and once her mind had decided not to run from the situation, she jumped into action. She went down, pressing down a knee on its stomach – and trying not to feel too put off by the rotting flesh beneath her – and pinning down its arms. Her head was spinning, and it wasn’t due to the strange nature of the thing beneath her or the way it had previously gripped her throat, but rather the weapon the other brandished.

She swung it towards it neck and Inge’s head whipped away, unable to look at it. It was pathetic, to be affected by such a thing, and she wished to reject that kind of feeling, but it still pushed its way to the forefront of her mind. That unburied past of her rose, reminding her of the way Sanne had been killed with an axe to the head. There was another sound of the hatchet cracking down and Inge just held on tight to those disgusting arms, wanting to get away from this place, this entire scene and the creature that was dying underneath her. 

It wasn’t like her, it couldn’t be — it didn’t seem to have her kind of cognitive abilities. But it was still something undead that she was helping to kill. With a fucking hatchet. Through beheading. Eventually she whipped her head back, staring at the other and the decapitated thing. Her sunglasses had slipped down now, from the impact and quick movements, and the red glow remained unhidden. Inge let go, stood up and continued looking at the other, trying to gauge what the situation might turn into next as she told herself she wasn’t afraid. This was survival instinct. This was something as stupidly human as what a psychologist might call a trauma response. “Well.” Her voice was strained. She pushed up her glasses. “Good work.” 

Nicole didn’t feel guilty. She didn’t— it was a corpse. A corpse that lunged at two innocent people. Who had tried choking one of them. There was no place for guilt at a time like that. It was already dead before she— killed it again. Her eyes prickled with tears. Must’ve been the intensity of the workout. Yes. Hacking skulls was very different roots or trees. That was something she knew now, apparently. She gritted her teeth. Didn’t feel like screaming anymore, because she feared if she did open her mouth, she might throw up too. 

She noticed the woman rising, slightly disheveled, her sunglasses sliding past her nose. Nicole almost kneeled in case they fell to the ground, but quickly froze in place. Staring back at her were a pair of glowing red eyes. Red eyes. The memories zapped through her, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. A flash of teeth sinking into her neck, the fog making her sick. Weak. Easily preyed upon by that monster. The scent of her own blood filling her lungs when all she wanted was oxygen to keep living. Panic. 

As soon as she dared speak, Nicole raised the hatchet between. A warning. “Don’t touch me” There was no tone to her voice, just air. She was still steadying her breath. Still blocking the noises of the blade smashing flesh. Still shaking from the vice grip she had on her hatchet. Her eyes burned now, unwilling to blink. These monsters were fast. Not once she’d looked at the corpse since she confirmed it was dead. Hadn’t begun thinking of how she’d clean the blade. “Don’t—” she repeated, lowly. She moved backwards, her gaze never leaving the other woman’s while she reached for her backpack. She crouched to pick it up, wielding the weapon again. “Fuck off” she demanded, pointing in the opposite direction. “That way. If I… If—if you try—” If what? She didn’t stand a chance against the vampire last time. The jaguar had to bail her out. And she didn’t want to make her night worse by giving up control to it. But maybe this woman would be deterred from attacking by the fact she had just seen Nicole decapitate a corpse. Maybe she didn’t look as weak as she had the last time she encountered a vampire. Maybe she’d be rational, if that was a thing monsters could be.  

Well, this was unexpected. The person holding the weapon — no, the person who had just undone the head of an undead’s body was the one expressing their fear the loudest. Inge stared at her, dumbfounded and confused. It didn’t usually bother her when people were afraid of her – it was what she required, in a sense, to live – but this was just a little ill-placed. She’d stayed around for the other, had helped her with the act of violence they’d just committed and now, due to presumably her red eyes, she was staring down a hatchet. Her hands raised, defensively, and for once there was no instinct to laugh or quip the situation away.

She stood still, eyes on the other woman and her hatchet — the hatchet she’d proven plenty proficient with. Was he a hunter then, after all? A slayer? But even that would make no sense: a slayer would now that the best way to ground her was to touch her, because now Inge could go any moment she wanted. “I’m not …” She wasn’t sure where that sentence was going. Her mind whirled and she tried to find the source of the miscommunication. But her mind only saw the hatchet, the decapitated undead thing between them and the threats being made. Her mind singled in on the risk and the fact that she was being given an out.

Inge retreated into the direction the other pointed at, taking careful steps back as if she expected her to throw the hatchet in spite of it all. “You know, I could have just left you to your own devices,” she muttered, wondering how much good that good deed had now done her. She swallowed bitterly. “With that thing. But fine. I’ll fuck off.” Better to go anyway: her mind was starting to grow feeble the way it did sometimes, and if she was going to start crying, laughing or both at once, she’d prefer to do it in the privacy of her own home. She continued to move back, wide eyes on the hatchet, and she opened her mouth for one last comment: “You’re the weirdest slayer I’ve ever met.” With that, she turned around and disappeared into the astral, having no more interest in this slowly backing away.

[mortemoppetere]

WICKED'S REST RP as SCI FI

( featuring: @bountyhaunter, @alan-duarte, @deathsplaything, @nicsalazar, @disinfernus, @howdy-cowpoke, & @mayihaveyournameplease )