#once again i think the highest form of comedy is YELLING AND CONFUSION and i don't know why

[skellebonez]

Prompt 76, MK accidentally lets it slip to Pigsy that Monkey and Macaque are “seeing each other” as in not quite dating but been on a few “dates”...again. Pigsy who is on a low profile and hasn’t told MO who he really is, let’s it slip how he thinks “his eldest brother can do better” and MK is very confused.

Feel free to ignore!!!!! I’ve never asked for something like this before and if I did it wrong feel free to ignore it!

I may or may not have a soft spot for protective younger sibling type scenes in media so I had way too much fun writing this.

It could be worse. They could be dating. Wait? They are?!

"I don't understand what that damn monkey is thinking half the time," Pigsy said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his snout with a groan. "Just... let Macaque on the ship, yeah, that totally isn't going to backfire. Not like he has ulterior motives at all, not like we just learned all the stuff he pulled over the last year including trapping three of us in a lantern to fight you and teach you some kind of lesson.”

Things had been tense on the drone ship for the last month. They’d barely begun on their journey before a certain immortal monkey managed to catch them off guard and chase them for multiple days under the White Bone Spirit’s influence.

It became apparent very quickly that she was using him to toy with them, a sort of gloating in her victory. Well, joke was on her. Sending him after them meant they were able to see just how far her influence and control actually reached and they were able to find a way to free him from that with more than a little force and some stolen artifacts.

The fact she hadn’t sent anyone else, however, was... concerning to say the least. If she wasn’t worried about losing her grip on Macaque, of all people, that did not bode well for them.

But for the moment that was neither here nor there. What mattered in the moment was that in the month since the immortal monkey had managed to be dragged onto their ship to recuperate Wukong had become far too comfortable with letting him have free reign over whatever he wanted to do on the ship (within reason).

And Pigsy didn’t like that. Aforementioned soul trapping in a lantern and trying to turn MK against his teacher and all that. Pigsy didn’t trust Six-Eared Macaque as far as he could throw him.

"It's been a month and nothing's happened yet?" MK offered not so helpfully, shrugging with an awkward nervous chuckle. “I mean... unless he’s playing a really long game he’d probably have done something by now, right?”

"Well... It could be worse," Pigsy admitted with a chuckle as he stretched out and started to cut up the ingredients for his lunch dish. "They could be dating."

MK made an awkward choking sound as he inhaled his water.

"Wait...?" Pigsy turned around slowly, leveling the young man with a half glare. He stared for a moment, watching as MK refused to meet his gaze. Looking left and right and literally anywhere not at Pigsy’s face. "THEY ARE!?"

"I didn't tell you!" MK shouted, jumping up and hiding behind the table and pointing at Pigsy dramatically. "I said nothing, you cannot pin this on me!"

"YOU KNEW AND YOU KEPT IT A SECRET!?" Pigsy yelped, tone not angry but loud enough to make MK freeze with wide worried eyes. The chef stopped, sighing again as he took in a calming breathe before continuing. "Ok... ok... MK, I ain't mad, being mad at you would be ridiculous. But exactly how long have you known?"

MK frowned, looking up at the ceiling in thought before a tentative but curious look passed over his face.

"...I can neither confirm nor deny that I caught them smooching in the med bay two weeks ago."

"TWO WEEKS!?"

“You didn’t hear it from me!” MK said, pointing at himself as he backed away with another nervous laugh. “I have plausible deniability, you figured it out on your own!”

“Of all the hard headed thick skulled bad decisions that stupid-” Pigsy mumbled to himself, burying his face in his hands as he held back a scream of frustration. “There are so many men. So many men! So many ex-enemies even! But no, he had to go and hook up with his actual ex that tried to take over his identity and kill his entire travel party!”

“To be fair he kinda seems to be changing for the be-wait...?” MK started to offer, watching at the chef paced around the kitchen. “How... do you know they used to date? I don’t think even Tang knows that.”

“He could have dated literally anyone else and he chose to get back with Macaque,” Pigsy said with another sigh, removing his hands from his face with a scowl. “I knew he was dense but elder brother can do so much better.”

“I’M. SORRY?” MK yelled, this time being the one to startle the other. “ELDER. BROTHER?”

Pigsy froze, eyes wide in horrified realization. “... you didn’t hear that.”

Pigsy ran out of the room, MK hot on his heels.

“PIGSY COME BACK YOU NEED TO EXPLAIN AND NOT MAKE RASH DECISIONS!”

Pigsy did not go back to the kitchen, instead heading straight to the rec room that he knew the two monkeys were spending most of their recent time in when not off alone who knows where (now he knows where). MK was following right behind, trying to both get an explanation out of him and to dissuade him from confronting the Monkey King and also looking generally very confused and concerned.

He didn’t succeed before the pig demon slammed the rec room door open.

"WUKONG!" Pigsy shouted from the doorway, startling the two immortal monkeys from whatever conversation they were engrossed in . "You. Me. Deck. Now."

"I-"

"NOW. ELDER BROTHER."

The facial journey through confusion to realization to horror on Sun Wukong's face was worth the delayed reaction shout of "WHAT DO YOU MEAN ELDER BROTHER!?" from the other immortal sitting next to the Monkey King.

“BAJIE!?” Wukong yelped.

“YOU’RE ZHU BAJIE!?” MK yelped in much the same tone.

“Oh fuck,” Macaque whispered under his breath.

“DECK!” Pigsy repeated.

“BAJIE WHAT THE FUCK!?” Wukong repeated himself.

“ZHU BAJIE!?” MK also repeated.

“How many other enemies did I piss off that are on this ship?” Macaque continued, seemingly resigned to his fate.

“YES I’M BAJIE STOP YELLING MY OWN NAME AT ME!”

Needless to say that conversation was the most incoherent non-productive mess they had on the ship in the last month. Until Sandy burst into the room and forced them all to talk it out peacefully.

Macaque did, in fact, learn how many old enemies he had on the ship when Sandy came clean that he was also Sha Wujing.

And Pigsy did not, in fact, manage to talk any sense into his elder brother given how much MK was yelling at him for keeping his identity a secret from him.

Wukong just sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands wondering what in the actual hell his life had become.

(The next day, after a night of rest and a day talking to MK and apologizing and explaining everything, Pigsy caught the two immortal monkeys asleep cuddled on the couch of the rec room and decided that his elder brother could make his own decisions. And maybe MK had a point, given Macaque hadn’t done anything. Yet.

If he pulled a blanket over the two of them while they rested and they noticed no one said anything about it. And if Macaque snuck off the ship and there were, coincidentally, some rare ingredients for some dishes Pigsy missed making and a few scrapes and bruises on the immortal when he resurfaced... well, he didn’t say anything either. But he made it a point to have more mangoes and plums on hand.

Just in case.)

[bigklingy]

Random Tails of Equestria Homebrew in Honour of the Series Finale

So ignore this post if you’re not into anything pony related. Basically, the show ended last week, and I was going to do one giant write-up on it but I had to stop because I was making myself cry. (No joke)  So instead, I decided to post a silly Tails of Equestria (yes, there’s an official tabletop RPG) homebrew I did a while ago. For context, I always found DnD 5e’s Wild Magic Surge table hilarious, and a lot of its results felt like things I could see happening on the FiM show. So, I retoolled it a bit, and I give you... THE CHAOS TABLE!  Feel free to use this any time Discord is involved, any time any creature besides Discord tries to control chaos magic, or if you somehow end up in his domain or anywhere heavily influenced by him.  Again, this is adapted from DnD 5e’s Wild Magic Sorcerer Wild Magic Surge table. Which can be found here: http://dnd5e.wikidot.com/sorcerer:wild-magic (This might require a bit of homebrewing to define exactly what constitutes a “turn” in ToE.) D100 Roll (roll two D10s, one for 10s, one for ones) - Result.  0-1: Roll on  the table at the start of every turn for the next minute.

3-4: For the  next minute, you can see any invisible creature as long as you have line of  sight to it.

5-6: A Pony  Golem (see Statuettes) appears within 5 feet of you and disappears 1 minute  later.

7-8: You use  Fire Breath D8 centred on yourself. 

9-10: You  use Stun Ray D10 on a random target.

11-12: Roll  a D10. Your height changes by a number of inches equal to the roll. Even =  taller, Odd = shorter.

13-14: You and  all creatures within 10 feet of you become extremely confused.

 15-16: For  the next minute, you regain 1 Stamina per turn.

17-18: You  grow a long beard made of feathers that remain until you sneeze, at which  point the feathers explode out of your face.

19-20: Slick  grease covers the ground in a 10-foot square around you. Anycreature who  enters the area must succeed on a Difficulty  4 Body Check or fall prone.

21-22:  Creatures must downgrade their die to resist the next Talent you use that  requires a resistance roll. 

23-24: Your  skin/coat turns a vibrant shade of blue. This change can only be removed by  magical means. For Changelings, the effect persists across any  transformation. 

25-26: An  eye appears on your forehead for the next minute. During that time, you  upgrade your Mind die for tests that rely on sight. But you downgrade your  Charm die when interacting with others, because dude that’s creepy.

27-28: For  the next minute, you can use two magical talents per turn. 

29-30: You  teleport to an unoccupied space of your choice you can see.

31-32: You  are transported to the Sock Puppet Dimension until the end of your next turn,  at which time you reappear where you once were, likely extremely traumatised.  

33-34: For  the next magical talent you use, you count as rolling the highest number on  its die. (Exploding Hoof does not apply)

35-36: Roll  a D10. Your age changes by a number of years equal to the roll. Odd = younger  (minimum 1 year old), Even = older. (Dragons and Alicorns aren’t affected)

37-38: 1d6  Flumphs (yes, they actually exist in Tails of Equestria) controlled by the GM appear in unoccupied spaces within 60 feet of  you and are frightened of you. They vanish within 1 minute. 

39-40: You  regain D10 Stamina.

41-42: You  turn into a potted plant until the start of your next turn. While a plant,  you are incapacitated and gain the quirk Weakness: Everything (D6). If you  drop to 0 Stamina, the pot breaks and your form reverts.

43-44: For  the next minute, you can teleport up to 20 feet once per turn. 

45-46: You  levitate for the next minute.

47-48: A  Unicorn controlled by the GM appears within 5 feet of you, then disappears 1  minute later (they go back to wherever they were before being “summoned”, and  think the whole experience was a dream). 

49-50: You  can’t speak for the next minute. Whenever you try, pink bubbles float out of  your mouth. 

51-52: A  spectral shield hovers near you for the next minute, giving you Thick Hide  (D4) and Magic Resistance (D6).

53-54: You  are immune to getting a sugar rush from sweets for the next D4 days.

55-56: Your  mane falls out but grows back within the next 24 hours. A wacky comedy  episode ensues. (Creatures without hair re-roll this result)

57-58: For  the next minute, any flammable object you touch that isn’t being worn or  carried by somecreature else bursts into flames. You just don’t know what  went wrong!

59-60: You  regain the use of one expended “once per session” talent.

61-62:  For the next minute, you must shout when  you speak. Hope there’s a shouting closet nearby! 

63-64: A  cloud of fog bursts out around you.

65-66: Up to  3 creatures you choose within 30 feet of you suffer the effects of Shock (D6)

67-68: You  are frightened by the nearest creature until the end of your turn. 

69-70: Each  creature within 30 feet of you becomes invisible for the next minute. The  invisibility ends on a creature if it attacks or casts a spell. 

71-72: You  gain Thick Hide (D10) for the next minute, except it also works on magic.

73-74: A  random creature within 60 feet of you becomes poisoned (as per Poison Spray)  for 1D4 hours. 

75-76: You  glow with a bright blue light in a 30 foot radius for the next minute. Any  creature that moves within 5 feet of you is blinded for one turn. 

77-78: You  must make a Mind Test (Difficulty 5). If failed, you turn into a Breezy for 1  hour. 

79-80:  Illusory butterflies and flower petals flutter in the air around you for the  next minute. After 10 seconds, the butterflies start yelling insults at you. 

81-82: You  take one additional action immediately.

83-84: Each  creature within 30 feet of you loses D4 Stamina. You regain Stamina equal to  the sum of the damage dealt.

85-86: You  clone yourself as-per Duplicate (D4). Fun!

87-88: You  cast a flight spell on a random target within 60 feet of you that lasts 1  hour. (If it targets a creature that can already fly, it loses its  flight for 1 hour!)

89-90: You  become invisible for the next minute. During that period, other creatures  can’t hear you. The invisibility ends when you attack or cast a spell.

91-92: You  gain the Rebirth (D6) talent for the next minute.

93-94: You  double in size for the next minute, upgrading your Body die. Dragons instead  suffer one level of Dragon Greed. 

95-96: You  and all creatures within 30 feet of you gain Weakness: [GM thinks up  something fitting or funny] (D6) for the next minute. 

97-98:  “Winter Wrap-Up” plays repeatedly in your head for the next minute. 

99-00: You  upgrade your die for any action you take for the next minute. 

[ashswritingplace]

Escape

Here’s another short story, this one about a cloning experiment. I had this idea years ago and only ever wrote a prologue, so I decided to expand upon it, and add a steampunk theme.

Escape

The sound of the ticking clock echoes throughout the empty room. The waves bounce off of the countertops and shining flasks, the spotless floor and the silver syringes, landing into my ear like an onslaught of rhythmic alarms. I thought, if ever I would end up in a laboratory, it would look so much less cliché. For a moment, I am more upset at the banality of my situation than the severity of it.

Cautiously, I rise from my thin bed. The scratchy blankets reach for my hair, which is currently down and curling against my back. Annoyed, I move to tie it up, but realize I do not have my hairpins and clips. It appears as though the maids will not be able to come to me if I call for them, so, defeated, I let my hair drop irritatingly over my eyes.

I am in a hospital gown. This both confuses and offends me: I have no recollections of checking myself into a hospital, and the speckled grey of the shoddy fabric makes my naturally pale skin look even sicklier. Perhaps, I consider, I was too ill for even the castle apothecaries, and they had to send me away.

There is another bed in this room. It is identical to the one I was on, and on it, a girl rests. She is dressed in a similar grey gown, and her dark brown curls drape over her shoulder and spill onto her childlike face. She is the result of bred and pampered beauty, the heir of nobility. For a moment, I watch her chest rise and fall with her subconscious breaths. She is completely unaware of me, the spitting image of her, watching her.

I don't have time to wonder where this twin of mine came from, or why she is here. I break my gaze by looking around the room again for some kind of clue as to why I am here. This hospital is void of any medics. The various colored liquids on the countertops ominously bubble to themselves. Haphazardly strewn across the countertops, numerous scientist tools glisten in the harsh candlelight coming from the lanterns in the room. Thrown between the tools and liquids is a black, leather-bound book, its covers scuffed. I glance back at the other girl before tenderly picking up the book.

It is a journal. A nightmare of a journal, with each entry scribbled in a sloppy penmanship. I flip through a few entries, until I find one about me:

Lady Ambriella    currently rests safely in our care.  Such a severe struggle was not expected when we abducted her, but we managed to overpower the   persistent   lady.   Her wounds, though   not fatal, will need   careful observation. I do look forward to what will become of this.

Struggle? I cannot recall an abduction, though I am sure that is something I would not forget. Suddenly filled with a hunger to find out more, I ravenously read on, to a few entries after that:

The experiment was a success. Lady Ambriella and her clone both sleep peacefully now. The clone reacts to stimuli and functions just as the lady herself. We have finally succeeded in creating a perfect copy of a person, and how fortunate for us, it is someone that will fetch the highest bounty. It will not be long now until we are all incredibly wealthy. Just the taste of our assured riches fills me with such joy. What a prize our little lady is proving to be.

A clone...? Am I being used as a ransom? What despicable human being would—

Then, the most recent entry:

No great researchers are immune to defeat. Today, we came so close to our undeniable success, and all was for naught. The lady and the clone were communicating amicably, until suddenly the clone attacked. She grabbed a knife and stabbed Lady Ambriella, damaging our goods. We were able to pry her from the lady, and that is when the clone turned and attacked one of the researchers instead. We were forced to induce both the lady's and the clone's slumber. We have wiped their memories of this event, and we hope that nothing like this could ever happen again. Our researcher was unable to survive his wounds, and later died in the hospital. Finally, we were successful in human cloning, but we created a murderer.

The journal stops there. My eyes slowly rise from the leather-bound book and crawl towards the girl on the bed a little distance from me. She is my clone. She has tried to kill me. What if she wakes and attempts it again?

Swiftly, I set the journal down, and I scan the room in search of a weapon. I grab a syringe and a pair of medical scissors. Then, I seek a way out of this room.

There are no windows here. The room is bathed in shades of white. The tinkling fire and the ticking clocks form a choir of eeriness. Though the scientist tools and sinister-looking medical substances are foreign to my eyes, I know enough to be wary of the toxins and sharp edges around me. There is a single double door in the room, and beside it, there is some kind of lock. Its gears and springs intertwine intricately, and a narrow hole might be big enough for a key. Taking a look around the room for another time, I wonder where such salvation might lie.

I walk back to my own bed, my eyes glued to my clone. This girl is crafted of my DNA. She is closer to me than any human being could ever be. And yet, she has tried to kill me.

I lay down again. Perhaps, I allow myself to hope, this is only a terrible dream. When I wake, I will be back at the manor with my parents, the duke and duchess, and I will resume my duties. None of this will have happened.

I fall asleep knowing far better.

жжж

When I do awake, I am staring into my own emerald eyes, reflected in the flabbergasted girl before me. I watch as she looks me up and down, scoffs, then turns away as if to talk to someone else. When she realizes we are alone, she turns back to me. Her voice is icy, accented from the peaceful, green birthplace we take pride in. "Who are you?" It is more a demand than a question, and her gaze, unwavering, would do much to intimidate someone who did not know her tactics.

I see no reason to lie. I reply evenly, "Lady Ambriella Marie O'Hara."

She rolls her eyes. "Your response lacks comedy, and I haven't the time for trivial jests." I know, like me, her vocabulary must expand when she is irritated. She looks sharply back to me and places a fist on either hip. "Who are you?"

I know nothing I say will pacify her, so instead, I silently move away from her. This angers her, as I expected. "Listen here, you brute." She moves to grab at me, but I slip away from her grasp.

"Be silenced," I say. She grows angrier, but before she can start yelling at me, I cut her off. "You ought to look at this."

I walk towards the countertop with the tools and liquids on it. I pick up the book again and hold it out to her. She stares at it for a long time, untrusting, before taking it. I tell her to read it, and hesitantly she does. A part of me wonders if the journal is true, if she truly does not know the atrocities she has committed. But, as her eyes scan the pages of the journal, my suspicions are confirmed, and I watch her expressions twist to those of dread and disbelief.

Her green eyes narrow, then widen, and her lips part as if to protest, but she cannot fathom an appropriate response. By the time she finishes reading all the entries I have already read, her hands are shaking. She throws the book back to the counter and glares at me, suddenly defensive. "You tried to kill me?"

I hesitate. "You tried to kill me."

She backs away from me warily. Despite her twenty years, she looks like a small child in this moment. Seeing her shake so violently sends shivers down my spine. She is unpredictable now, and as a precaution, I clutch the syringe I grabbed earlier in preparation for any attack she might make.

But she does not. She falls, undoubtedly painfully slamming her knees against the pristine stone floors. I can tell she's terrified, and seeing that look on my mirror image is unnerving. For a brief moment, I wonder if I am the one she is scared of or if, like me, she is beginning to question whether she is the real Ambriella at all.

I wonder if, like me, she is thinking of the words of that journal. Our memories of the situation have been erased. How would we know which of us is the original Lady Ambriella, and which tried to murder her? We cannot know why we are here, or how to get out. With these realizations, I can feel the saltwater start to drip down my cheeks, too. I can hear the other Ambriella, her voice soft, terrified, whispering, "I want to get out, I want to get out, I want to get out."

жжж

For a long time, neither of us knows what to do. One thing is for certain: We must get out of here.

The other Ambriella is still crying, so I gently place a hand on her shoulder. She whips around, eyes piercing, and demands, "What are you doing?"

I shush her. "Bri, it is important that we find a way out, before someone might come back."

"Do not call me that, as if you know me," she scoffs. "Get off me."

"I do know you," I say. "I know you better than anyone. Never mind that. We need to find an exit. If we spend all day crying here, the researcher madmen will return, and they will have their way with us. Is that what you want?"

She sniffles quietly, considering my words. Finally, she mutters, "No."

"Exactly." I extend my hand to her. "We have to leave."

She hesitates, but ultimately takes my hand. Once up, we decide to look around the room together. I find nothing new: It is a vacant room we are in, save for the equipment and the two beds. The large doors seem to be the only way out of this place, and the lock beside them is unyielding.

We must search for hours in silence, until Bri collapses onto her bed, exhausted. "I cannot handle this anymore," she announces, throwing a hand dramatically over her forehead.

I am exhausted too, but I know sitting around will not get us anywhere. I walk back to the door lock and fiddle with the gears. There is no key in this room; I've searched all over for one, with no results. I run my fingers over the fine edges, the metallic points lightly digging into my fingertips. As I press on a certain gear, the lock pops, though I notice no discernable different within the mechanism itself.

Bri looks up at the sound. There is a question on her lips, though she does not ask. Instead, she gets up from her bed and walks to the doors. I continue with the lock, until I hear Bri's voice behind me.

"You did it!"

I look up suddenly. Bri is pushing the doors open herself. I look down at the lock in my hands. Had it been so simple all along?  

With the doors opened, Bri rushes ahead, down the hall beyond. I jog to keep up with her, and call after her to slow down, to tread with caution. She does not listen to me. Her bare feet beat against the polished floor of the corridor, and I worry that she will alert someone of our presence.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching from down the hall. "Bri!" I whisper sharply, hoping she listens to me now. She stops, pauses to look at me, then seems to hear what I had heard. She freezes, paralyzed, until I walk to her and move her out of the middle of the hall. We still into the nearest room, and only after we've caught our breath do we think to look around.

The lights are dim here, but reflect off the gelatinous substances contained in the many jars lined on shelves. I try to study one of the jars, only to realize there is a part of something, or perhaps someone, inside.

"What are these?" Bri whispers. I want to soothe the panic in her voice, but I do not have an answer.

"You do not suppose they might be... real?" I approach a jar and pluck it off a shelf. It contains what appears to be a brain floating within the jelly. The one beside it on the shelf has a still-beating heart.

I can see that it takes everything she has for Bri not to scream. The shivers crawling up my spine leave an agonizing discomfort throughout my body, too. Suddenly we are both muzzled as we hear the footsteps approaching again. They are right outside the door, and we both must duck. I can hear her jagged breaths, and I can feel her shaking. We wait for torturous seconds, until the footsteps die down, and we are safe.

Bri is frazzled. "What manner of nightmare..." she mutters. I wonder if I look as petrified as she does. I grab her by the wrist and pull her out of the room, in the opposite direction as the footsteps. I drag her through many corridors and rooms, searching for some way out.

We had been wandering for a long while when the lights blew out. The overhead lamps and the lanterns all seem to go out at the exact second, as if stopped by some magic. We are both bathed in blackness, and I cannot help but let out a scream. Bri forcefully puts a hand over my mouth, quieting me. "Imbecile," she spits, "do you want to get us killed?"

Sounds seem to scream in the dark. The ticking of the clock is intensified now, a constant drum straight into my ear. Some animal from within this labyrinthine laboratory lets out a yelp, and somewhere else, a man moans. They are the sounds just eerie enough to be in nightmares, but this nightmare will not end soon. We remain still as statues, not daring to give ourselves away.

Then, Bri starts screeching.

I jump and back away from her. My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, and I just make out her silhouette. I hear someone else near us now, and it sounds as if Bri is fighting with them. My hands reach blindly to support the terrified girl, but as my fingers gently brush her arm, she screams again.

A candle down the hall starts to flicker. Its little light is all I need to realize Bri is wrestling with a man who is grabbing for her wrists. Without thinking, I swipe at the man. He swears under his breath, then seemingly effortlessly, he throws me against the wall. Hefting Bri up, he begins to run down the hall.

It takes me a moment to recover from the impact. When I do, I start after the man and Bri, led by the dim light. He proves too fast, and the floor is too slippery, and I lose them both.

Tears fall furiously from my eyes. Now I am alone in this horrid place, and my clone—or perhaps not-clone—has been abducted. I want to scream, but I have learned my lesson.

I know that I must continue on. I pick myself up and proceed to wander through the dark halls of this prison. Paranoia bubbles inside me, causing me to stop at every sound, at every slight wind.

I do not know how much time I waste in the dark. My legs grow weary, and my face is drenched in a mixture of tears and sweat. Then, I hear a scream from down the hall. It is my own voice, the voice I recognize to belong to Bri. Filled with new energy, I run the rest of the way to her, hoping I am not too late.

In my pursuit, I run into a room. Though it is dark, I can still make out the pale glow of some jars and their colorful contents, some fangs and bones of furry corpses. I squint through the darkness, but can make out scarce more than that.

"Bri?"

I freeze. My eyes scan the room. There is nothing.

"Bri." The voice is behind my ear, and I can tell it is that of my lost companion. Cold hands run down my arm, leaving a slimy trail where they touch. The metallic smell of blood assaults my nose. The quiver in her voice as she said our name fills me with great fear. I cannot force my voice to respond.

"They've hurt me," she says. It is clear from her voice that she has been crying. "The bastards have hurt me. Unchain, please, you have to unchain me."

My entire body is paralyzed with fear. I cannot move to help her. I cannot even help myself.

"Bri?" Her voice is a plea, one that is agony to my ears. My lips begin to quiver, my hands start to sweat.

She is tired of waiting for me to answer. "My parents will hear of this," she says. She is directing her emotions into anger, into a hopeful retribution, in order to cope. "I will ensure this place is taken down immediately. I am of nobility, how dare I be treated with such hostility, such—" She is cut off by a loud crack, followed by her own scream. I flinch, hard, not knowing what to do.

"Shut up already," comes an exasperated voice behind her. It is a man's voice, though I cannot see what he looks like. "You complain and complain constantly. I do not care the price your parents are willing to pay for you. It cannot be worth it for this insufferable whining. I should kill you now, while I have the chance. Finally there would be peace, then."

Bri turns sharply. Her newfound confidence scares me. "Like hell you will! Who are you? Where are we? What mad plot have you pulled me through? I demand answers!"

"Shut up!" There is another crack, and another of Bri's screams. She stifles a sob. I shiver.

I can hear the man begin pacing. My breaths are frantic, uneven, and I wonder how he cannot hear them. His dialect suggests that he is from the far North, and I wonder just how far we are from the manor, from home. How long until I can return to my family, my people? How long until this horror ceases?

Beside me, I hear Bri pick herself up. She is silent now, though I know she must be holding back more tears, too.

The man grunts and starts away from us. He mutters something about the lack of lighting, then kicks something metallic. The sound makes both of us jump.

I can feel my paralysis lifting then. I reach out for Bri, shushing her before she can make a sound. I can feel that she is covered in what I pray is not blood. My fingers slowly trail her skin, to the cold cuffs at her wrists, to the chains trapping her in place. When my fingers reach her back, she flinches violently away from me. She has been hurt badly.

From a little distance away, I can hear the man fumbling with something. He manages to light a candle, then moves it towards us. I gasp, ducking out of the light. He manages to not see me, and the relief at that blankets me. He locks eyes with Bri and scoffs. "You are staining our floors," he spits, as if he is not the one to blame for that.

The candle dimly lights his face. I can just make out his features, his dark and greasy hair, his unkempt beard and moustache. He is no one I recognize, just a barbarian that I must get away from, but I cannot leave Bri here, not like this.

Suddenly, I remember the weapons I had grabbed from the other room, the syringe and medical blades. I remove both from where I had hidden them in my brassiere, and I run my shaking hands over them. The scissors are sharp, easily able to cut through human flesh. I cannot know what poison might lie within the transparent vial of the syringe.

I look up at the man again. He is keeping the candle steady, studying Bri's pathetic form. My grasp around my two weapons tightens. Can I do this? If it meant protecting myself—if it meant protecting Bri—could I do this?

Slowly, I make my way towards the man, cautious to stay out of the candlelight. It is some wonder he cannot hear my movements. Bri notices me approaching him. She looks back to the man and starts speaking. I cannot hear her well, but it sounds as if she is only trying to distract him. I send her my silent thanks.

Finally, I am close enough to the man that I could touch him. My body is shaking, and I figure this man must be near deaf to not hear the drumming of my heart. I look at his neck, bare and exposed, and my fingers clutch the syringe. Would it kill him? Can I really kill someone?

Knowing I cannot afford to have a moral argument with myself, I take the syringe and I plunge it into the man's neck. The candle falls to the ground, a part of the wax breaking off. The light flickers off. I can feel the liquid pumping into his bloodstream. Once he recovers from his shock, he is quick, and he moves to grab at me. I toss the emptied syringe and defend myself with the scissors, listening as the blades cut through his hand. I flinch and back away, out of his grasp.

He begins to moan in agony. I am thankful I cannot see his face. I listen for his movements, prepping my blades to defend my life. But the man seems to have stopped. He swats helplessly, but I hear him fall to the ground, still groaning. He sounds as if he is being killed. It is my fault.

In just a few moments, he stops moaning. We are still for a long while. I am too terrified to check for a pulse. I do not know which outcome would be worse: our assailant still being alive, or me being a killer. Regardless, for now, we are safe.

жжж

The shock of the situation finally fades, and I turn my attention to where Bri was. "You are okay now," I say.

I can hear her backing away from me. "You've killed him," she says. Her voice is quiet, desperate, terrified. "It is you, you are the clone, you tried to kill me and you killed that researcher and now you've killed him. All this time you had me quaking, thinking that it was me, that I could ever do something so terrible, but it was you all along!"

"No!" I reach to grab her, but I cannot see, and I miss. She strains against her chains to get further away from me. "No, listen to me. I had to do something, I had to protect. I didn't know what else to do."

"Were you carrying that around to attack me?"

There is no way to answer her question that will make me look any less guilty. Bri understands my silence.

"You wench," she spits at me. "Get away from me. Begone with you. How dare you try to touch me, after all you've done." She pulls at her chains again, but they are too firm, and she is too weak. "For a moment, I trusted you," she whispers.

"But, Bri," I plea, "I didn't try to kill you." Not even I can know that, though, and my voice wavers in my uncertainty. "I was trying to help."

"You can help me by getting the hell away from me." She moves away again, but she is too weak to tug at her shackles much. "Find someone who can take me home."

Her words hurt me. I hesitate, not knowing where I could go, what I could do. I cannot leave; I have to convince Bri—or maybe myself—that I am not a murderer.

I move towards her chains and feel where they are latched onto the wall. I silently curse the darkness as I feel for some sort of lock. I find one, a small one, but the key is much more impossible to find. Bri is ignoring me, lacking the energy to argue anymore.

We must be there for hours. I feel around the entire room, even daring to venture into the halls. I am reluctant to leave Bri by herself again, so I cannot get far. She is still ignoring me, or asleep, or eerily still.

I have no choice but to accept defeat. I fall into a sitting position beside the wall Bri is propped against. She does not stir. I wait a few moments, then call her name. She does not answer me, so I continue to prompt her. "Hey, speak to me, please. I'll go mad if you ignore me now."

“Give up,” she snarls. She sounds exasperated. “We’re going to die. No one is going to help us, and we cannot leave by ourselves. Stop trying to make this better." She stops, chuckles. "Look at me. I’m disgusting and pathetic and I’m talking to a murderer. I just want to die. Kill me already.” She looks up at me. Her green eyes are brimmed with tears. “Kill me.”

I step a cautious step away from her. “Do not speak like that--”

It takes Bri all her energy to stand up again, forcing me out of her way. She grabs at my gown, painting it with red. “It’s what you’ve wanted all along. Just finish what you started.”

I say nothing. She searches my face for something, but she does not find what she is looking for. Then, she melts into my arms, sobbing.

I do not know what to do. I shift awkwardly, then place a hand on her head and pat her gently. "I'm sorry," I mumble, almost inaudibly. Because I cannot take the silence, I continue to speak.

"I cannot stop thinking of Clessia," I say, referring to my mare back at the manor. "I cannot imagine how she is managing without me. She must be so frightened." No response. "I miss Mother's voice. I want her to scold me for something, just to hear her again. I wish I could hear Father's songs when he thinks no one is listening again. I miss my bed, the soft, flowery pillows, my room perfumed with the loveliest lavender. I want to get out of here." I cannot stop myself; I continue speaking. I tell Bri about all the things from back home that I wish to get back to, knowing that she must miss them too. I ramble on and on, the only sound in this godforsaken place. I chuckle for a moment. "I miss the light most of all."

My words are followed by a few moments of silence. Then, "I miss the sun."

I look up. Bri has not moved from her position. She exhales deeply.

"I miss the sun too," I say. "I miss staring at it so long your eyes hurt."

"On a summer day, after Mother has told you so many times to not do that."

"Knowing that, no matter how much you disobey her, you will still come home to a freshly baked strawberry tart."

We both start laughing then. Bri is the first to quiet. She moves towards me, and though I cannot see her, I feel her breath on my face. She must be staring at me. She cocks her head to one side, then says, "We're not too different then, I suppose."

I chuckle again. "You're my clone."

She clears her throat. "You are mine." But her voice is free of malice, and she sighs softly. "Hey Bri?"

"Hm?"

But before Bri can finish her thought, there is a distant sound, like someone approaching. In a few moments, light fills the room. I stare into the lantern for a moment, before thinking to look away. My eyes look over the still man on the floor. He has not moved since we've been here, and he is not breathing. Blood is dried along the wounds on his neck and arms. The syringe beside him is dripping silver.

And then I see Bri. She is squinting into the light too, as if she truly believes it is the sun. Her gown is torn along her back, its fabric stained reddish brown. Scarlet puddles around her, its sources scattered all over her body in different scratches and gashes. Her left arm is bent awkwardly. Her eyes are bloodshot, her cheeks glistening with dried tears. She looks pathetic, and I have to remember that she looks like me.

She comes out of her stupor and looks at me, but looks away soon. With the lights on, I can see her rusted chains, and the places where they rubbed her wrists raw. She says something, but she is too quiet to hear.

"Oh dear."

Both of us look up at the sound of a new voice. There is a woman holding the lantern. Her blue eyes look on at us in terror, and she takes a woozy step back. "What on earth have they done to you?"

Bri starts crying again, and I can feel the hot tears trickling down my cheeks as well. The woman sets the lantern down. She walks to the wall where Bri's chains are, and she fumbles with a ring of keys at her waist. Pulling one, she inserts it into the lock, and Bri's chains fall away with a metallic crash.

The woman's eyes fall over the man, too. No expressions cross her face. She stares a moment, then looks between the two of us. "Lady Ambriella?"

Bri does not move. I reply, "One of us is."

"Which one?" She looks between us. "I must return our lady to Lord and Lady O'Hara. They are so terribly worried."

Bri is silent, terrified. She is too weak to respond.

I reply. "It is she." My words surprise myself, even more than they surprise Bri. She looks bewildered, and her lips part again to protest, but she is not given the time.

The woman gently places a hand on Bri's shoulder, causing her to jump. "My lady," she says, "I am so sorry." She soothes her back, runs her hand through her hair. "I will get you cleaned up right away. Come now." She helps Bri to her feet and starts out of the room. Before she leaves, she turns to me. "You should return to the experiment room. Dr. Hambert will be seeking you." With that, she and Bri both leave.

жжж

I do not know how long it takes me to return to our original room. Everything is untouched, and the leather-bound journal taunts me from the counter. I move to sit on my bed. The one across from me is empty.

I do not know when I stop crying. My tears drench the blankets and pillow on my bed.

"Ambriella?"

Footsteps approach, and a firm hand lifts my skin. I see a short-haired woman standing before me. Her bright eyes are squinted as she looks over me. "What are you doing here?" When I don't respond, she looks to the empty bed. "And where is your clone?"

Your clone.

"Lady Ambriella has been taken to be reunited with her family," I say. I wonder how long it will take me to convince myself.

The woman looks to the journal. "Did Shannon take her?" She pauses for a moment, then looks to me. She silently steps over to me, and without warning, she pulls down my hospital gown. There, on my chest, between my breasts, is the scar of a deep gash. My mind goes back to the journal. ...suddenly the clone attacked. She grabbed a knife and stabbed Lady Ambriella, damaging our goods. I was stabbed. I have to be the original.

"A clone took your place," the woman says. "We have to get you back. We must continue our research on her."

My mind is in an uproar. I shake my head. "No," I say. "Lady Ambriella has returned to where she needs to be. I will remain, and do as you please." My voice is more forceful than I intend.

The woman, perhaps Dr. Hambert, looks me over. Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she nods. "I am glad Lady Ambriella will be going home. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we will continue testings." She nods again, and her heels click against the floor as she starts out.

Alone again, I walk to the journal. I pick it up again, and I pen the last entry:

Lady Amrbeilla was taken back to the manor today. The clone remains, and testing will continue as normal tomorrow. The experiment was undeniably a success.