#pleck didn’t tell jacks anything bc he knew that if he did jacks wouldn’t want to hang out :)

[chryzure-archive]

“Chrysi isn’t coming,” Pleck said, looking up from the candy bowl. “She said she had to study.” 

“What?” Jacks stood from his seat, taking the candy out of his mouth so he could properly frown. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I don’t know- here Fil!” Pleck tossed a pink lemonade flavored lollipop behind the counter, which Filly caught only because she dropped her pen to snatch it out of the air. “You didn’t ask!” 

Jacks groaned. 

“What made you think she would be here?” Filly said, now speaking around the lollipop in her mouth as she reached for her pen. “It’s Saturday.” 

“So?”

“She never comes to the library on a Saturday,” Pleck said, giving up on looking for a cherry lollipop and popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth instead. “I thought you knew that.” 

“Why would I know that?” 

“Because you follow Chrysi around like a lost dog?” Filly was grinning around the lollipop stick by the time Jacks turned his glare on her. “I just tell it like it is, Jacks.” 

“Neither of you are of any help to me whatsoever.” 

“Aw, come on, we can help you find her at least.” Pleck got up, setting the candy bowl back on the counter while simultaneously stuffing some candy in his jacket pocket for later. “Then we can get food.” 

Jacks huffed, but said nothing, sticking the apple flavored treat back into his mouth. Upon realizing his friend wasn’t objecting to the idea, Pleck turned his grin on Filly. 

“You commin’?” 

She smiled at him, sticking both the pen and the book of crosswords into her bookbag. “I do enjoy food.” 

“Great!” Pleck took her hand over the countertop and walked her around, all while Jacks rolled his eyes with barely contained disgust. 

“Aren’t you working right now?” Jacks asked, stuffing a hand into his jacket pocket as they made their way out the door. 

“‘Supervisor only comes around once a month, and we’re the only people who ever visit this library anyway.” 

“You’d think a lot more people would, given how quiet it is.” Pleck said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend once she made her away around the counter completely. 

“Chrysi says it's because of a rumor that someone got murdered in there,” Filly said, moving closer to Pleck's warmth as they stepped out into the chilly October air. “I think it’s just less conveniently placed though.”

Chrysi pressed the board game to her chest, breathing too heavily. Every breath made her throat hurt, and she was one step from crumpling to the ground to hack up all the blood she could taste on the back of her tongue. 

The creatures lured closer. Even now, they looked more akin to classic movie monsters than true villains—down to even a Dracula that looked so much like Bela Lugosi that Chrysi wanted to ask him what skin care routine he had, before she realized that Bela Lugosi had definitely died back in ‘56 and would probably be feeling a little out of place amongst a monster with vines wrapped around a wiry rib cage and another that dripped a noxious black goo that made the carpet sizzle and curl with smoke when it dripped off its indistinct form. 

But for her racing mind, the part of her that lived in the world with these monsters for fourteen years only provided a single word, a quiet hiss to center her:

Cornered. 

Yeah. Shit.

She cast her eyes to the left. The board game weighed more like a stone in her hands—heaven knew if it were actual stone, the texture of it was so off-putting—but if she moved quickly, she could pass it off before she passed out. 

But there, she only found Pleck a little tied up, fending off hyena-wolf—God, what were those things?—hybrid-somethings with the same fireplace poker Chrysi had almost ruined Jacks’s face with. Holding his own as best he could, but not in a prime position to act as wide reciever. 

She edged back a step, putting one of Mistress Luck’s finely upholstered couches between herself and the small pack of monsters looming closer. Another black drip of goo splattered, this time on the couch. A horrible smell of burning chemical-and-upholstery filled her nose. The goo quickly ate a hole in the red couch. 

To the right this time.

Filly currently looked a little tied up, this time literally. A baby-doll-faced spider worked out a long silky thread and set to wrapping up Filly’s flailing legs. Her arms had already been bound to her sides. 

Well, she wasn’t an option either. 

The vine-creature lashed out with a thorny vine. It caught on the couch. As it tore away, it took with it an almost entirely steady stream of white stuffing. 

Mistress Luck was not going to be very happy with them at the end of this. 

She took another step back—and this time, she thunked into a wall, hunched shoulders hitting first, then her startled jump knocked her skull back against it. A bright spark of pain made her vision shudder once, then ease into a dull thrum of visual interference. 

The monsters loomed closer—Not-Bela Lugosi Dracula closest. And, honestly, out of all of them, Chrysi had to admit that she’d much rather go at his hands. 

One last desperate time, she cast her eyes over the room. Left (Pleck, still fighting somethings), right (Filly’s ankles now firmly tied together), and finally up (Jacks, standing at the railing of the second floor’s inner balcony, staring down at her in horror—)

(Wait.)

Jacks wasn’t doing shit!

His eyes caught on hers. His face blanched. 

“Princess!” he called, right at the same time Chrysi let out a rather vitriolic, “Hey, jackass!” 

Jacks startled, then cocked his head to the side so quickly he looked like a woundedly curious dog. 

She evened out the board in her grip and curled her arm in. 

“Catch!”

Then she flung her around out, whipping the board game like it was little more than a Frisbee. It flew from her fingertips discus-like, spinning at a speed that belied its odd shape. 

For a moment, its four corners turned into a misshapen throwing star. Light gleamed off its gilded edges, glittering like cursed magic. It was powerful, and it went right over the monsters’ heads. 

A vine shot up after it. Goo fizzed into the air like a fountain in a city park. Not-Bela Lugosi went up in a puff of smoke and a bat came flapping out of it. 

But it sailed out of their reach before they could do anything. 

And it hit Jacks square in the face. Hard. 

His head snapped back. He staggered, then collapsed. She was pretty sure she could see the glitter of gold, even from here. 

Chrysi gaped up at him. 

“Are—you—serious?” she screamed. 

Jacks groaned. 

She replied like he’d said something cognizant: “Get a better reaction time!”