#rebeca forest

[dorianwolfforest]

Redraw… 5 years later

[xfangsxbangsx]

Long wait

By Rebeca Saray

[bracketsoffear]

One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel García Márquez) "It tells the multi-generational story of the Buendía family, whose patriarch, José Arcadio Buendía, founded the fictitious town of Macondo. Alongside the story of the Buendía family, there are an abundance of vignettes recounting both the everyday and the supernatural occurrences that shape the lives of the inhabitants of Macondo.

To be honest, it could be argued that there's a little of every entity here, from the Slaughter to the Flesh (The baby born with a pig's tail comes to mind…), but the word Solitude isn't in the title for nothing, it is the most dominant theme in the book. Macondo gets founded in the remote jungles of the Colombian rainforest. Isolated from the rest of the world, the Buendías grow to be increasingly solitary and selfish. Throughout the novel it seems as if no character can find true love or escape the destructiveness of their own egocentricity, and even if they find one it will end in tragedy in one way or another.

Many characters end up isolated from the rest of the world and each other in several different ways. There are several examples that I think would fit the Lonely, like Rebeca, who starts as a semi-feral child who's unable to comunicate with her adoptive family because of a language barrier and ends as a bitter old woman who ends her days self-isolating from everything and everyone by choosing to live in seclusion on her mansion after the untimely death of her husband, keeping her family outside at gunpoint when they try to reconnect with her. There's also how the patriach of the family goes insane and is tied to a chestnut tree like a dog until his death. There's Coronel Aureliano Buendía, who shuts himself in his room making gold fish out of coins that he then sells for more coins to make into more gold fish. And just… so many more examples of characters living and dying in sheer loneliness either because of tragic circumstances or by their own choice. And then there's the ending.

"(…)because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.""

Solitude (Michael Penning) "The forest has never been more deadly…

Megan Danforth thought she knew the dangers of the wilderness, but she was wrong. When a little girl goes missing deep in the woods, the young forest ranger must put her own demons aside and turn to an infamous hermit for help. But as secrets are revealed and the clock ticks down, Megan realizes the man she's relying on to save the girl's life may have ties to her own troubled past. He wasn't alone out there in forest. Something evil was with him, and it may have driven him to kill.

Can Megan uncover the truth and bring the lost child home before it's too late, or will the darkness haunting the forest consume them all?"

[finlayheartonfilm]

Film Project - Critical Essay - Finlay Hearton

When reflecting on our ROADKILL, both in regards to the creative process, and the final film, it’s important to consider the intentions and incentives that led me to the project. One major appeal that drew me towards ROADKILL was its potential to explore the sense of place found between our two lead characters’ relationship. My intention going into production was to create this effect through identification with characters, characterisation through location, and encouraging engaging performances. As the producer for ROADKILL – I wanted to try to locate the right cast, and the right location, to give a platform for the crew to create the film we set out to make.  When reflecting on my contributions and engagement with the process of producing ROADKILL, I would argue that ‘success’ comes down to those three points. I would say I was fully engaged with the project throughout – the film presented many unique production challenges but, through my own contribution and the other members of crew I feel we were successful in meeting them. In particular, scouting and contacting Jorgie and Lewis (our actors), and locating Rebeca’s house stand out as points I’m particularly proud of.  I maintained regular communication with Rebecca, keeping her informed on the pre-production process and our plans for the house. Alongside this, I went to visit her on two occasions, and offered her son (a Glasgow film student) a role on set. This allowed her to feel fully comfortable with myself, and with the project at large. Both actors had numerous rehearsals with our director, scheduling this time for the three of them to work together allowed the performances to be nailed down, and meant that by the time we came to filming, all three were comfortable and confident within their roles. I feel that I maintained good communication with the crew, particularly with Hayley (writer) and Alfie (Director), which allowed for a smoother production process. Selecting crew members that I believed would work together in a positive and respectful way is another aspect in which I feel my contribution was constructive. ROADKILL maintained a respectful, positive, and professional atmosphere on set, which is my personal proudest achievement regarding the film. An aspect in which my contribution could have improved was in post-production – while I did maintain communication with both Euan and Hazel (Edit and sound respectively), I feel this could have had more communication. I personally believe that with the stress of placements, issues with the edit, and other modules, both Hazel and Euan would have appreciated some extra support. Going forward with future projects I plan to schedule regular check-in with members of the post-production team, not only in order to check on the work being done, but also on how the crew members are personally doing. Overall, if I were to reflect on my contribution to the project, it would be positive. I feel I maintained a good level of engagement throughout the process, constantly engaging with the work required at all given points. This, combined with maintaining a constant line of communication with the crew, and selecting a good location, cast, and crew, stands out in my view as the strengths of my contribution. However, I think my contribution could have been improved in relation to the post-production of the film. A reduction in the level of communication following the shoot allowed certain deadlines to be missed, increasing the stress and speed needed for the film’s post-production to be successful.

Moving beyond the process, it is necessary to reflect upon the film itself. ROADKILL in its current state is a thriller, it follows Lewis and Bruce, a young married couple who hit a pedestrian with their car. The couple enter into an argument which follows them around their home, culminating in Linda murdering Bruce, before burying him in the same forest that they had previously buried the initial victim. In my opinion, the major strength of the film lies in the performances. Lewis and Jorgie are fantastic throughout the film, and their performances carry the tension over the runtime of the film. Jorgie’s facial expression and physical acting in particular communicate so much emotion Lewis plays the counterpart, perfectly encapsulating the manipulative, campy tone we wanted, providing the necessary moments of humour throughout the film. This serves to keep the film from potentially becoming too overbearing with the necessary tension and tone. The location also aids the film, the house’s spacious layout gives a lot of room for actors to move, giving the whole scene a lot of energy and engagement. The changing locations keep the film interesting, while it would have been easy to set the film in one single room, Production design and camera did a fantastic job of constantly dressing and lighting the new locations. One weakness of the film is the occasional gaps in dialogue when moving from room to room. This is most evident when Bruce and Linda leave the living room, the pause before Linda’s “stop calling me Lulu” line deflates some of the film’s tension – right before the climax. Despite this, the tension remains one of the film’s biggest strengths. Successfully maintaining that constant tension throughout the film keeps the audience engaged. I’d argue this isn’t down to one specific department, the use of camera, sound, production design and smooth cuts work together to carry the tension. A second weakness I would say of the film is, at points, I believe the grade is too dark, obscuring both Jorgie and Lewis’s performance. This is particularly evident in the bathroom scenes. Luckily, both myself, Aflie, Hayley, and Gus have been in discussion, and plan to regrade the film.

The goal from the outset of creating ROADKILL was to place the viewer between Bruce and Linda – fully immersed within that sense of place. The question then is, how successful were we in achieving this effect? The previously mentioned strength of both the performances and location really aids this process – placing the viewer within a believable world, filled with two believable characters. Gus, the DoP, made an excellent choice shooting the film handheld, helping to immerse the audience further. Myself, Alfie, and Hayley had frequent conversations regarding the POV shots throughout the film. The use of these shots help’s to establish the principle of identification we aimed for, and opening and ending on the same POV shot, but from different characters gives the film a nice level of narrative cohesion. This use of POV serves, in my opinion, as a creative method of creating this immersion within the relationship. As mentioned before, the gaps in dialogue cause some issues with this immersion. These gaps pause the flow of the dialogue, giving the film a staged feel at these moments. Similarly, one point that was raised during the crit for the film, was the blocking in the second bathroom scene. Having Lewis seemingly stop for no reason gives the feeling he’s hit a mark, standing in a strange spot for seemingly no reason. Holding on this shot exacerbates this issue, building the audience’s expectation something is going to happen, and thus making the kill even less of a suprise. We attempted to circumvent this issue by cutting between Bruce and his phone, but the blocking and length of the shot mean that this issue is still present.

So, does ROADKILL meet the intentions that we set it out with? In my personal view, I would say yes. Overall I feel the film has an impressive technical quality – particularly due to some fantastic camera work from Gus, and some lovely production design and sound from Saoirse and Hazel. This acts as an example, demonstrating how the film meets the required technical and professional standards I believe this can be seen throughout the entire film, but as an example, I think the blocking, dialogue, and performances in the kitchen scene stand out. I also believe the film succeeds with the idea of identification and immersing the audience in the relationship between Bruce and Linda. While certain aspects of the film could be improved, such as the pauses in dialogue and issues with colour. Overall I feel the crew did an excellent job building this sense of place, the visual storytelling and characterisation from the set dressing and location serving as an example. This culminates at the end of the film, where Bruce’s burial is shot from his POV, literally placing the audience's viewpoint from his perspective. I believe this identification, combined with the technical standard, and performances of Jorgie and Lewis creates a film that successfully and effectively engages with the audience, holding their attention.

[disneymovies321]

Maleficent

Director: Robert Stromberg

Cast: Angelina Jolie, Sharlto Copley, Elle Fanning, Sam Riley, Imelda Staunton and Juno Temple

Genre: Fantasy, action and adventure

Year of release: 2014

Maleficent tells the story of one of the most iconic Disney villains from Sleeping Beauty. Story of how her heart became cold. Moved by revenge and the desire to protect her kingdom, the Moors, Maleficent (Angelina Jolie) cruelly curses the newborn king’s daughter, Aurora. Aurora faced conflicts between the forest kingdom, the place where she grew up and loves, and the human kingdom, where she keeps a legacy. Maleficent realizes that Aurora could be the key to peace in her kingdom and is forced to take drastic measures that would change both worlds forever.

Rebeca Delinski, 28 years old, movie maker

[ceekbee]

“What can I say that I have not said before?

So I’ll say it again.

The leaf has a song in it.

Stone is the face of patience.

Inside the river there is an unfinishable story

and you are somewhere in it

and it will never end until all ends.

Take your busy heart to the art museum

and the chamber of commerce

but take it also to the forest.

The song you heard singing in the leaf

when you were a child

is singing still.

I am of years lived, so far, seventy-four,

and the leaf is singing still.”

~ Mary Oliver, “What Can I Say”

Artist: Rebeca Dewey

#BeautyTruthandLove #Spirituality #Inspiration #Encouragement #Wisdom #Leaf #Poem #Poetry

[bookfanatic96]

The Divide fancast

From Left to Right

Rachel Collins, Tyler Forester, Grace, Damien Simmonds, Cole, Alfie Mallon, Rebeca Morgan, Angie, Garrett, Brianna, Kira, David Collins, Mrs.Collins, Annie Collins, Ava Peterson, Callie Michaels, Mrs.Michaels, Mary Collins, Ralph Peterson, Alana Peterson, Ross Michaels, Mr.Michaels, Olivia, Molly, Abe, Jacob, Katherine, Patrick, Razec, Marcus, Kieran, Leah, Reserve escapee brother 1, Reserve escapee brother 2, Survivor of forest group

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Since Amazon’s Cinderella is awful, here’s some of my ideas for reimagined Fairy Tales as High/Dark Fantasy Epics

Cinderella: Young Ella is orphaned at a young age when her mother dies and her father perishes soon after. Now under the thumb of her cruel stepmother, Ella’s life is a living hell. But, unknown to Ella, her mother was a powerful Druid who served under a mighty Fae Queen. One day, Ella finds her mother’s staff hidden away and she meets the Fae Queen face to face. The Fae grants Ella great power over the beasts of the land to do her will, but her power only comes forth under the light of the Full Moon. Using this power, Ella meets the Prince of the Kingdom, an accomplished monster hunter, and the two bond and fall in love while fighting the Demons and Witches that plague the land.

Red Riding Hood: Young Rebeca, known as Red by the people of her village, befriends a girl in the forest on the way to her Grandmother’s home. Unknown to Red, the girl is a werewolf, and Red soon finds herself embroiled in an ancient war between Werewolves and the Huntsmen who prey upon them. To make things even more complicated, Red discovers that her father and grandmother are masters of this order of Hunters. Caught between the young werewolf girl she is coming to love and the legacy of her family, Red must find a way to bring balance to her land and people.

Beauty and the Beast: Long ago, Prince Adam waged war on another kingdom in vengeance for the death of his father. However, consumed with hatred and wrath, Adam committed horrible crimes in the name of such black vengeance. In retaliation, the Last Queen of his enemies cursed him to become a beast, for a cruel and vicious beast he had been. And his knights and vassals became living tools, for tools was all they had been in his hands. Years later Belle, the Last Queen’s unknowing granddaughter, finds herself in the Beast’s company, looking for a way to break the ancient and terrible spell that is growing out of control, and amy threaten all the kingdom.

[stolenlyricstoyourheart]

Elite season 3 soundtrack!

Ep 1: Carla

The kids are coming- Tones and I

Ya lili- Balti

Galarina- Leïti Sene, Aleesha

Hush- New day

In Dreams- Broken Twin

Now you're a home (feat Ruuth) - Christian Reindl

Lbalya- H-Kane

L'Bilya- H-Kane

Ep 2: Samuel y Guzmán

Forever- Chvrches

Crow (mixed)- Forest Swords

Kiska- Kedr Livanskiy

Loner Boogie- Boy Azooga

Breathe for me- Attic lights

En el Aire- Vega Almohalla

Ep 3: Cayetana y Valerio

Afraid- Anavae

Forever- Cvrches

Can't Take It No More- Brigitte Laverne

Shake The Tree- Simon Field

Indebted To You- The Perfect Kiss

Cold Fever- Matias Aguayo, The Desdemonas

Mientras Bailo- Nos Miran

Castles- Freya Ridings

En el Aire- Vegan Almohalla

You Mad- Jump To The Moon

Ep 4: Lu

Tengo Un Trato- Mala Rodríguez

Forever- Chvrches

Dancing tonight- Christina Quesada

Sunset- The Midnight

Dinamita- La Bien Querida

Bloom- Hvob

Indestructibles- La Habitación Roja

Crush on you- Brigitte Laverne

Phoebes Room- Brigitte Laverne

Ep 5: Ander

Bills- Lunchmoney Lewis

Lunatic Moon- Pisces

Move Your Feet- Destabilized

Wild Child- Damn The Witch Siren

Lungs- Endless Forms

Let's bounce (Feat. Mc Sherlock)- Clyde Trevor

Electrogaga- The Hiiters

Disco Techno- The Wookies

Old Picta- Slvr

Ep 6: Rebeca

Hoy No Me Puedo Levantar- Kimberly Tell

In Fantasia- Kishi Bashi

Sad Girls Club- The Magnettes

Ep 7: Nadia y Omar

Forever- Chvrches

Can't Take It No More- Brigitte Laverne

Mesmerizing- Cinthie

Trihte- Kimbery Tell

Kind Of Love- Rat City, Isak Heim

Out of touch- Cut_

Ep 8: Polo

Forever- Chvrches

Can't Take It No More- Brigitte Laverne

Mesmerizing- Cinthie

Poison Lips- Vitalic

The Last Goodbye- The Kills

Twisted Games- Night Panda

Feel free to add anything I've missed in the comments :)

[dorianwolfforest]

These 2 could win the worst sso oc awards. They have absolutely nothing to do with the main story. All they know is live at the circus, bother ydris and eat egg

[porco-galliard]

I was tagged by Margaux @finger-pieck Minnie @honeymeh Alice @roronoazooro and Rebeca @s0ushimiketsu

Thank you sm! 🥰

indoor plants or gardens // cloud-watching or star-gazing // water or fire // paperback or hardcover // running or hiking // sleeping with socks or without socks // fruit or vegetables // hanging plants or succulents // dark wood or light wood // handwritten or typed // instagram or pinterest // braids or pigtails // books or movies // oceans or meadows // forests or fields // sweet or salty // ice cream or chocolate // hoodies or sweaters // long hair or short hair // piercings or tattoos // summer or winter // boots or sneakers // cars or motorcycles // curls or straight hair // castles or cottages // sunny days or storms // reptiles or birds // disney or nickelodeon // strawberries or watermelon // essays or posters // phones or laptops // glass or stone // dark or light // photos or paintings // circuses or theaters // reading or writing // dogs or cats // poetry or novels // monsters or ghosts // thrift shops or libraries // fiction or non-fiction

Tagging :@wuatsui @cr0wprince @jeanbo-kirschtein-blog @ta-keigo @haiikyuuns

[weirdletter]

Avenging Nature: The Role of Nature in Modern and Contemporary Art and Literature (Ecocritical Theory and Practice), edited by Eduardo Valls Oyarzun, Rebeca Gualberto Valverde, Noelia Malla Garcia, María Colom Jiménez, and Rebeca Cordero Sánchez,  Lexington Books, 2020. Info: rowman.com.

“Nature, thou art my goddess”—Edmund’s bold assertion in King Lear could easily inspire and, at the same time, function as a lamentation of the inadequate respect of nature in culture. In this volume, international experts provide multidisciplinary exploration of the insubordinate representations of nature in modern and contemporary literature and art. The work foregrounds the need to reassess how nature is already, and has been for a while, striking back against human domination. From the perspective of literary studies, art, history, media studies, ethics and philosophy, and ethnology and anthropology, Avenging Nature highlights the need of assessing insurgent discourses that—converging with counter-discourses of race, gender or class—realize the empowerment of nature from its subaltern position. Acknowledging the argument that cultural representations of nature establish a relationship of domination and exploitation of human discourse over nonhuman reality and that, in consequence, our regard for nature as humanist critics is instrumental and anthropocentric, the present volume advocates for the view that the time has come to finally perceive nature’s vengeance and to critically probe into nature’s ongoing revenge against the exploitation of culture.

Contents: Introduction, Eduardo Valls Oyarzun   Part I: Towards a New Ecocritical Ethics: Cultural Perspectives 1. Bringing Culture Back to Nature: A Biosemiotic Reading of Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek – Anastasia Cardone 2. “Have You Seen the Snow Leopard?”: Animal Commodity Resistance in Peter Matthiessen’s The Snow Leo – Frank Izaguirre 3. “With One Arm I Supported Her: The Other Arm Was the Executioner’s”: An Ecofeminist Reading of Anna Kavan’s Ice – Laura de la Parra 4. “We Were Neither What We Had Been Nor What We Would Become”: Frankensteinian Science and Liminal States in Jeff VanderMeer’sAnnihilation – Jessica Roberts 5. Santiago Rusiñol’s Abandoned Gardens: Between the Poetics of Ruin and the Defense of a Lost Identity – Laura Sanz García   Part II: Empowering Nature: Transcending Anthropocentrism in the Anthropocene 6. Welcoming Cosmos: A Comparative Study of Narrative, Nature and Cosmopolitanism in The Wall and Pond – Hande Gurses 7. A Few Sockeyes and Dying Embers in What Is Left of the Forest: Settler Culture and Changing Views of Nature in Gail Anderson Dargatz’s Latest Novels – Pedro Miguel Carmona 8. The Last Epigram: Christian Bök’sXenotext – Ryan Winet 9. A Poetic Correspondence on Ecology and the Green World: Allan Cooper and Harry Thurston’sThe Deer Yard – Leonor Martínez 10. Wonders and Threats of Symbiotic Relationships in the Anthropocene: Jeff VanderMeer’s The Southern ReachTrilogy – Patrycja Austin   Part III: The Age of Dystopia: Nature against Culture in Contemporary Literature and Film 11. Demonizing Nature: Ecocriticism and Popular Fantasy – Peter Melville 12. Accepting the X: Uncanny Encounters with Nature and the Wilderness in Jeff Vandermeer’sThe Southern Reach Trilogy – Carmen Méndez 13. Ecocritical Archaeologies of Global Ecocide in 21st–Century Post–Apocalyptic Films – Mónica Martí 14. Biohazard, Eco–terror and the Rise of Post–Human Dystopia: Re (b) ordering Space to Promote Environmental Ethics in ZalBatmanglij’sThe East and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road – Paula Barba Guerrero 15. Another Inconvenient Truth: Hollywood, the Myth of GreenCapitalism – Víctor Junco 16. De–Evolution, Dystopia and Apocalypse in American Postmodern Speculative Fiction – Javier Martín Párraga Index About the Editors About the Contributors

[dgtln0m4d]

Rebeca, I want to be with you. I want us to be. I want to be with you, in all your facettes, all your stages. I want to be there. I want to stay with you. By your side. In all chapters of life. Overcome all obstacles in the way. Your and mine. I want to know you and want you to know me. I want to show you my true feelings, my true self. Feel you. I want to give you love, light, honesty, respect. I want to dance with you, through the snow and rain, through the new life of spring, around the fire, in the summer sun, jump in the water and lay on the ground, dance with the leaves, that are falling from the trees in autumn. See the height of mountains and the depths of the ocean. Walk through forests, in the sand of beaches and dunes of deserts. Live, wherever there is a place for us. I want our souls to grow and let us be positivity in this universe. Sing the songs of our souls and hearts. Explore our being and the world, human and beyond. My love, let us be destiny, let us be unity. Te quiero mi amor

[steven-falls]

Steven Universe Future reviewed: Little Home school

Basic synopsis: The new status quo is established as Steven introduces a freshly uncorrupted gem to the ‘Little Homeschool’, a school that teaches gems how to be earthlings. Steven, however, becomes upset when he remembers his former enemy Jasper has gone into isolation. So, he journeys into the forest looking to extend an olive branch, only for several branches to be snapped when a fight breaks out between them.

Thoughts: Okay first, I have to talk about the pink gem that Steven shows around the school, because A LOT of people theorised that she was going to be a major character. This was because her scenes in this episode were featured heavily in promotional material, as well as her resemblance to Rose Quartz. In reality, she’s nothing more than an audience surrogate used to introduce the new status quo. She’s not even important enough to receive a name.

Personally, I doubted that she was going to be that big a character considering she doesn’t appear in the title sequence. I just find it hilarious that such a big deal was made over such a minor character. Just goes to show that promotional material can be completely misconstrued. But who knows, maybe in the season finale she’ll be revealed to be Steven’s long lost twin or something.

The school itself is pretty cute.  It gave me serious Pokemon Sun and Moon vibes. After the season 5 finale, I made a post where I joked that now that the conflict was resolved, Steven Universe would finally become the coffee shop AU that Rebeca Sugar always wanted it to be. And after seeing the school setting I think that statement was more accurate than I realised. The highlight of the school is, obviously, Amethyst's ‘How to decide stuff for yourself’ class.

Steven’s conflict in the episode is that he believes Jasper ‘is still hurting’ and that he needs to help her by convincing her to come out of isolation and join his society… I mean school. What’s ironic is that Jasper is living out one of the things the school teaches; She’s deciding for herself what she wants to do by choosing to live in isolation. Jasper’s final line to Steven in this episode is ‘do whatever you want.’ This is clearly a mantra she’s already taken to heart.

After watching the Diamonds go from intimidating dictators to groveling at Steven’s sandals it’s honestly refreshing to have Jasper outright refuse his help. Hope they don’t ruin that by giving Jasper a redemption arc! 

So, the person who actually learns a lesson this episode is Steven. At the episodes end, Steven says to Jasper ‘Maybe you don’t have something to learn from me. Maybe I have something to learn from you.’ Steven realises that instead of focusing his energy on someone who doesn’t want or particularly need his help, he should focus on improving himself. And honestly, one of my biggest issues with the past few seasons of SU is that Steven constantly swoops in to solve everyone else's problems. As seemingly everyone around him is too emotionally stunted to solve their own issues without the help of some 14 year old therapist. The fact that the first thing Steven learns this season is that maybe he isn’t as helpful as he thinks he’s being makes me hopeful for the series direction.

[morningsound15]

Bechloe and Salem witch trials for the au game please. Thanks!

I had one idea for this but then completely switched it after like 3 parts so here’s that second version:

(please excuse my exaggerations about how the Salem witch trials went down it’s for narrative not factual purposes i know it’s not right)

(also please excuse the fact that this is approximately 1 year late!! i’ve been, how shall we say, Going Through It)

1.)

Chloe Beale is the daughter of the most famous and well-respected Deacon in Salem, Massachusetts. Her father’s status means that she is held accountable for her actions in a way few other women of her time are. Ever since she tottered her first stumbling steps, she has had a list of duties — not chores so much as necessities. There are certain responsibilities she must complete, certain behaviors from which she must demur, certain reputable people she is expected to socialize with, and certain disreputable people she is expected to avoid as if they carry certain death on their person, ready to infect should she happen to wander just a step too close. “Pray remember, daughter,” her father would whisper with his hand vice-like digging into her shoulder, “do not allow womanish fribbles to lead you to distraction. Your actions reveal my judgment, and the sanctity of the Congregation. You will not be an embarrassment.”

And she has not been an embarrassment. Though she is a girl just shy of twenty, her moral fortitude — her piousness — is unmatched, nearly unparalleled. She spent so many hours of her girlhood kneeling on the floor of their house that her knees were oft rubbed raw, red and smarting like she had been punished. But it was not earthly punishment, rather penance. “Christ knows how many Devils there are in his Church, and where they walk.” Her father’s eyes would glint, sharp steel. “Corruptio optimi est pessima.”

“Corruptio optimi est pessima,” Chloe would repeat with solemnity, head bowed low towards the ground. She could barely feel the stinging in her joints anymore. The blessing of God’s love was more than enough to evacuate the worst of her ailments.

.

.

.

.

2.)

Chloe has run into only 2 problems with her father and the Church since her childhood. The first is her lack of marital prospects. Being a woman of nearly twenty and still unmarried is not ideal, and she can expect a near daily barrage from both of her parents to accept the offer of one of nearly a half dozen men who have already asked for her hand. Luckily, as none of the prospects have been irrefutable (Barnabas Allen was odious — and Catholic on top of it; Benajah Applebaum’s family was both too poor and too Jewish to be a viable option; and rumor had it that Jesse Swanson had asked 3 girls to marry him within the same year, which did not bode well for his faithfulness), Chloe has managed to dodge answering any of them. She knows her situation cannot last much longer, however. It’s only a matter of time before her father brings her a husband she cannot refuse.

The second problem involves her choice of companionship. Chloe does not have many close friendships — she never had the desire — and until very recently, has spent most of her free time (those hours when she is not in prayer nor doing her household duties nor delivering alms to the poor) in the company of one young lady: Aubrey Posen, the daughter of respected Captain Jeremiah Posen and Chloe’s closest confidant since infancy. Their parents happily approve of their continued association. The Beales are a family of status and power and influence, the Posens of money and respectability and ties to England. Chloe knows that her father hopes, through the Posens, Chloe may meet a suitably pious husband (perhaps even an English Lord, or a businessman with a respectable if not excessive fortune).

Aubrey is a reputable, respectable companion.

Rebecca Mitchell, suspected practitioner of dark magics and the wicked pagan arts, is not.

.

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3.)

Rebeca Mitchell is not a witch. Chloe knows that she isn’t. Or at least, she believes that she cannot be. Rebecca — or Beca, as she insists Chloe call her — is a quiet, thoughtful woman. She has no family, no station, nothing to speak of except a small homestead she operates alone. She tends a small garden in the back of her property — right at the boundary of the dense wooded forest that surrounds their small town — where she grows her own herbs and food. She is prone to night-time walks, particularly under bright skies and full moons. It is for this reason that some of the residents of the town of Salem suspect that she is a witch. A woman residing alone, without the livelihood of a husband or father sustaining her, who is sometimes seen walking about on her own on bright, cloudless nights, is not a woman to be trusted.

Beca, curiously, seems oblivious to how she is perceived. Chloe finds this facet of her personality fascinating. Her entire personality is fascinating. For their friendship only exists because Beca has so little regard for conventions — the only young woman Chloe has ever met who exhibits such blatant disregard for what the Church considers upright. Beca is the one who initiated their meeting, their ensuing conversation, and the numerous occasions they have had to casually, ‘accidentally’ run into each other since. In the street, when Chloe is on her way to the market; in the fields through the first thicket of woods where they retreat on warm Saturday mornings in the spring, dew staining the hems of their skirts as they trek through unruly terrain; in the strawberry patch behind Old Man Elias’ cattle field every Tuesday in the summer, picking side-by-side and sneaking plump fruit swollen with juice that stains fingers and lips and chins alike. Beca has not been to Chloe’s home and Chloe has not been to hers. They forgo all talk of family, obligations, and the several dozen reasons they have that should mandate they immediately and unequivocally cease all further interactions.

(Of course, they do not cease their interactions. If anything, they only grow in both frequency and length.)

So you see, Chloe knows Beca cannot be a witch, because witches have no friends, no love; they work in darkness, and madness, magic and manipulation. Chloe has not been cursed, she has not suffered fainting spells, witnessed ghostly apparitions, or been forced to do the Devil’s bidding. She has not been sent into fits of convulsion or hysteria.

Beca cannot be a witch because Chloe is unaffected, and witches do not allow their acquaintances to go unaffected. Though they continue to see each other and Beca continues to have ample opportunity to bewitch her, corrupt her, she does nothing — nothing except smile when she says Chloe’s name, her head tipped low in deference. Nothing except pluck wild flowers from the field on the days they can manage to sneak away together; ties them into a bouquet with blades of long, cutting grass. Nothing except press her lips to Chloe’s cheek, close to her ear, breathless and warm as she whispers her farewells.

Beca cannot be a witch, because witches are evil, and vile, and inhuman. They are beasts, creatures of malice, followers of Satan himself. They cannot love, and they are unloveable.

(Beca cannot be a witch, because Chloe loves her, and she cannot bear the thought that it may not be reciprocated.)

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4.)

The first words Chloe says upon entering Beca’s homestead are: “This does not look like a witch’s home.” She winces, already regretting the tactlessness of her conversation.

Beca merely scoffs. “Witches,” she sneers. “You spend too much of your time listening to your father. He is filling your head with lies and frivolities.”

The house is small, just one room. A table with a single chair in the center, a small fireplace built into the wall furthest from the door, a small cot tucked in the corner. Beca perches herself on the single chair, leaving Chloe no other choice but to stand or sit upon the bed.

She sits, and says, “I do not think witches are frivolous.”

“They are not real. If not frivolity, what else could they be?”

Chloe picks at the thin bedspread beneath her fingers. She does not answer. Beca had not been looking for an answer anyway. Instead, Chloe lifts her head, and asks the question that has been at the forefront of her mind for the past several months, as long as their acquaintance has been growing.

“Why did you approach me?” Chloe asks the still room.

“Pardon?”

“We did not grow up together. I never knew of you, except the things whispered by others.”

Beca laughs. “You mean gossip.”

“Gossip, yes. But worrying gossip all the same.” A pause, then. Chloe tips her head. Beca’s attention is on her hands folded in her lap, and she sits very still. “We never had reason to meet. Yet you crafted a reason.”

“And you believe that was… suspicious.”

It is not quite a question. Still, Chloe evades. “My father thinks your interest in me is corrupt.”

Beca’s head jerks up. Her eyes seem to blaze. “Corrupt?”

“He does not trust you.”

Beca’s spine is stiff in her chair. “I have been accused of nothing.”

“He is suspicious of everyone,” Chloe attempts to demur, worried she’s said something inappropriate, something shocking and distressing, worried she’s shattered the tenuous serenity they’ve managed to found together over the past half-year. “It is nothing serious.”

But Beca is unswayed. “It is serious if it’s stopping us from seeing each other.”

“I’m here now, am I not? He has not stopped us.”

“You’re twitching like a newborn pup, you can hardly sit still.” Chloe flushes bright and stills her hands. Beca continues to stare at her, expression unreadable. “Why are you here, Chloe?”

It’s a question to which she does not have an answer. The simple truth — that Beca had invited her, and Chloe had been curious enough to accept her invitation — is far too mundane. She knows if she were to propose it to Beca now, she would be caught immediately in her fabrication. But she cannot explain the reasoning behind her actions. She seems to have so little reason, these days.

She stands from the bed and walks to the other side of the house. Beca watches her and does not move to follow. Chloe gazes out the front window with unseeing eyes, her hands twisting themselves into the fabric of her dress, her jaw working over unspoken words. Finally, she says, “I cannot seem to help it.” She turns back around, feeling miles away. “It’s as if… wherever you go, I feel compelled to follow.”

Chloe hears Beca swallow loudly. She takes a breath, as if stealing herself, and looks up to the ceiling. “I heard you singing.” Chloe frowns, not understanding. Beca glances at her and then glances away. “That is why I approached you.”

Chloe cannot help but laugh, but Beca does not laugh with her. The smile slips from Chloe’s face, and she frowns. “Is that true?”

“I used to hear you sing in services. When my parents died I stopped going to church, and I couldn’t hear you anymore. But then you started cutting through the woods, on your way home from schooling, and… The first few times it was merely an accident, but… your voice is so beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it. And you sing when you walk alone. I thought… I thought your songs were kind, and I wondered if you were, too.”

“You followed me?”

Beca turns a lovely, delicate pink. “I know it is strange of me to admit this to you now, to have spied on you without your knowledge. I apologize, it was not my intention. It’s as if… something came over me. A possession, a madness. I… I felt I had to know you. I was gripped by a force I cannot comprehend, and I was powerless but to obey.” Beca’s blush darkens, and she turns her head. Her hands are fisted in the front of her skirts, and she tugs on the coarse fabric restlessly. “I sound foolish.”

“You do not sound foolish,” Chloe whispers, her own eyes bright. “I… I know the feeling.” She takes a tentative step forward and raises trembling hand to Beca’s cheek. Her thumb brushes, Beca’s eyelids flutter, and something tugs in Chloe’s stomach. “It’s like a bewitching.”

Beca’s eyes snap open. “I have not bewitched you,” she says quickly.

Chloe laughs. “Nor I, you. I could not even if I wanted.”

“Chloe,” Beca’s voice remains serious, “listen to me: I have not bewitched you.” There’s something to the weight of Beca’s gaze, something that makes Chloe pause. She does not move. There is an electricity between them; the air crackles, charged like the sky before a summer storm.

“Okay,” Chloe whispers, her eyes locked to Beca’s. She cannot look away.

The kiss Beca presses to her lips is soft and unexpected. Chloe has never been kissed, has never even desired the feeling. She always imagined an unpleasant, wet, uncomfortable experience, trembling against the stiff body of some faceless man with rough hands and rougher skin.

But Beca’s skin is soft; her body yields when Chloe falls into it. Her hands are sure and focused as they trace her neck, wind into her hair, push her dress off her shoulders, but they are not rough and incessant; they guide her gently onto the cot. Her lips leave fire in their wake as they skirt Chloe’s cheek and down her chest. Her tongue traces Chloe’s breasts, sneaks a sinful path up bare thighs.

Beca’s fingers slip inside of her. Her breath is hot on Chloe’s lips and her eyes seem to burn straight through her. Chloe gasps like the breath has been stolen from her chest and trembles like she’s going to shake apart.

“Convulsions,” Chloe say breathlessly, her chest heaving. She is entirely exposed to the world in front of another person — another woman, no less — and has just committed a cardinal, lustful, adulterous sin. She feels nothing but rapture. “Is this how it feels to be cursed by a witch?”

“You think too much of witches.”

“I cannot help it. What we just did… it was supernatural.”

Beca laughs and rolls onto her stomach. She throws an arm over Chloe’s hips, presses kisses to Chloe’s bare shoulder, and Chloe shivers from the pleasure of it. “You believe it was dark magic?” Beca murmurs teasingly into her skin, her fingers tickling Chloe’s ribs.

“M-magic, perhaps,” Chloe, flushed and panting and skin slick, is nearly gasping, “but not dark. Nothing that feels like this can be evil.”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” Chloe swears her heart stutters to a stop and hangs, still in the moment before painfully restarting. “Is that even possible? Is it… am I too bold in my pronouncement?”

“No,” Chloe whispers back at her. “Not too bold. I think I have fallen in love with you, too.”

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5.)

She leaves Beca the next morning with a swift kiss and flushing cheeks. Beca beams at her as Chloe slips away from her, sneaking off through the woods and towards her own homestead.

She holds her breath as she sneaks inside and tries to make as little noise as possible. The ground beneath her feet is solid but smooth, and her shoes glide over it nearly soundless. Her mother and sister might still be asleep — she is unsure of the precise hour — or else they’ve already gone to market. Father must surely be in service already. If he was in a hurry he might have even left without noticing her glaring absence. Chloe sends up a short prayer to the Almighty that that is the case.

But of course, she is not so lucky. She never has been.

“Where have you been?”

Chloe freezes mid-step, her heart already turning to ice. She swallows thickly and turns slowly. Her father is seated in the kitchen, his hat upon his knee and his face empty save for a few dark shadows. “F-father,” Chloe straightens her spine, does her best not to tug at the skirt of her dress. “I was just… calling on Mrs. Hawthorne. You know she has two little ones both ill with diphtheria.” Her father stands and makes his way slowly towards her. Chloe holds her ground and continues speaking, as calmly as possible. “They haven’t been resting, so I went to see what little relief I could provi—”

Smack. The back of his hand connects with her cheek and Chloe stumbles, nearly crashing to the ground. She grips at her smarting cheek and turns her fearful gaze up at her father. He stands over her, fully glowering, now. “You lie,” he snarls at her, and it’s all Chloe can do to shake her head.

“I… no. I’m not lying. I haven’t been—”

“You did not come home last night. Tell me, harlot — in which young man’s bed did you spend your wicked night?”

“There is no man, father, I promise—”

“Captain Posen spotted you with Rebecca Mitchell yesterday.” Chloe falls silent, and curses her fair complexion and the way it so easily draws a blush. “Is that who you were with?” His words sound near-murderous.

Chloe shakes her head again, but he only seems to grow larger in front of her. He towers above her, a fire gleaming in his eyes. “You spent your night cavorting with that witch?”

“She is not a witch, Father! She is kind, and generous, and she loves me.”

He looks down at her with unbridled disgust and spits at the ground by her feet. “No one can love you.”

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By the time she makes it to Beca’s home, she’s already too late. The door stands ajar, creaking on its hinges in the early-afternoon breeze. Chloe doesn’t even bother trudging through the gate to peer inside; she knows with a certain inevitable heaviness that there is nothing there for her to find.

She follows the sounds of revelry all the way through the outskirts of the village, picking her way in some sort of daze through empty streets and past dark cabins. The sounds grow louder and Chloe stumbles towards them like a moth to a flame.

When she gets to the center of town she feels the world crash back into consciousness. What looks to be the entire town has gathered near the steps of the church. Parents with small children perched upon their shoulders, housewives and mothers still with aprons tied around their waists from working in the kitchen. Chloe pushes her way through them all, ignoring the looks and hissed words tossed her way.

Her father’s voice trickles through the crowd towards her, and Chloe hones in on it and stumbles, breathless. “The Devil is using this woman to lead astray the youths of our village with her little sorceries. With her black magic she has controlled the mind and possessed the body of many young women from our good Congregation, forcing them to submit to her vile evilness. She threatens the sanctity, the chastity of our daughters! For her crimes she has been arrested, and now will face the Judgment of the Vengeful and Almighty Lord.”

“No! Father, no, please, you can’t—”

“I can and I will!” He grabs Chloe’s face in his hands, squeezing her tight. His eyes are wild, mad and unseeing. Chloe wants to recoil from him, pull herself from his grasp, but his grip is too strong. His fingers leave bruises along her neck, her jaw, and she bites her tongue hard enough to taste blood to stop from whimpering from the pain. “We are God’s chosen people,” he whispers, his words meant only for her, “but we have fallen from His grace. He sends us these witches as a temptation, a scourge on our town. In order to return to His favor we must eradicate the disease.”

“No.”

He shoves her away from him, turning back to the swarming masses. “For her crimes, she has been arrested. And for her crimes, she will burn!”

There’s a roar of agreement from the crowd. Chloe fights back a wail. She can see Aubrey off to the side of the frenzied mass, her face pale and her jaw trembling. She meets Chloe’s gaze with eyes full of tears and turns away almost at once, like she can’t bear to watch.

Chloe fumbles upright, her feet and hands scrabbling in the mud. Her dress must be a hideous sight now but she hardly cares, can barely spare a thought for the ruined fabric. Beca is tied to a pyre in front of her, her head tipped back, her eyes closed to the sky. Chloe feels tar in her stomach. Her feet sink into the ground like the earth itself is grabbing hold of her, refusing to let her go.

She cries out, “No. NO!” But her screams are drowned out by the roaring of the crowd. Her father lowers his torch towards the pyre, and Chloe rips her head away, already ill, unable to look. The wood catches with a sickening crackle, and the jeers only grow louder. Chloe barrels away from the scene like she’s the one at risk of being burnt. She stumbles from the town square on legs that cannot support her, crashing blind through unfriendly bodies until she finally breaks free. The pathways are dark and twisting, and she allows her feet to carry her without thought to her destination.

She crashes through the door to the empty house. It is dark inside, and cold; there should be a fire burning in the hearth but there is no one left to tend it. A wooden plate sits on the table with a half-eaten loaf still perched upon it. Chloe thinks they must have grabbed her while she was unawares.

She feels next to nothing. She would cry, she thinks, were there any breath left inside of her. Instead she stumbles forward, tripping over her own feet, and falls face-first into the hard cot. She shivers violently but does not move to pull the quilt over her trembling body. She wraps her arms around her stomach and does not move and hopes, hopes that she’ll stop breathing.

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+1.)

She awakens in Beca’s bed many hours later. The sun has long set; the world is in darkness now, and will remain as such likely for a few hours longer.

Beca’s house is dark. Of course it is. She was the only inhabitant, and now she’s—

The door is unlocked. It always is. Beca once told her she had nothing to fear from the outside world. If only she had known…

The moon outside is full. It illuminates the world, casting long and twisting shadows upon the ground. Chloe shivers as she peers out at them, for reasons she can’t quite explain.

The shadows are moving. Chloe blinks and rubs at her eyes, sure she must be seeing things, but— There. Right by the forest, where the path meets the trees, there’s… a figure, shrouded in black. And it seems to be creeping this way.

Chloe fumbles, her back slamming against the wall behind her. She clutches Beca’s bedroll to her heaving chest, her mouth frozen open in a silent scream. A demon is approaching, or perhaps a dark spirit; there is something wicked out in the woods, something haunting. It claimed Beca’s life earlier today and now it is here to claim hers. She’s set up residence in a dead woman’s home and the Devil is not pleased with her for it. He’s come to take her, to pull her soul from her body, to bewitch and entangle her in the dark magics.

She fumbles, her hands trembling so badly they can barely hold the flint and steel. She strikes once, twice, thrice, each movement more desperate than the one before. Finally, on her fifth attempt, a spark flies onto the candle by the bed. It catches fire, and Chloe can see inside once more.

She whips her attention back to the window, her eyes searching, her heart pounding heavy and pressing in her chest. She’s breathing hard, already in a panic, and she feels light-headed. But there is movement neither outside nor in. Chloe rubs at her eyes but it does little to calm her nerves.

“A trick of the light,” she mutters to herself. “A trick of the light and the illusion of a dream. That is all it was. No specter or ghoul, just… just my imagination.”

A shadow passes over the door, and finally, Chloe screams.

The door crashes open with a loud bang, and Chloe screams again, higher this time and louder, a wrenching shrill that tears at her throat and burns at her lungs and the figure races into the house, its taloned claws reaching for her face, and Chloe twists away from the horror and kicks out as hard as she can.

Her heel connects with something soft and pliant, and the demon buckles with a soft “Ooph,” like the breath has been torn from its lungs. It collapses onto the ground wheezing, and its hood falls from atop its gruesome head, and

“Beca?”

“You struck me.”

“I… I thought you were a demon.”

“No demon, just a foolish woman hoping to silence your screams before they drew the whole village to us.”

Chloe stares down at her, her mouth wide open. “I thought you had died.”

Beca shakes her head, clambering slowly to her feet. “I seem to have dodged death twice today.” She rubs at her middle, still wincing. “Was your father part-donkey? You kick like a mule.”

Chloe can’t believe this is happening. She can’t believe it. She saw Beca die this afternoon. Or… well, she saw her father light the woman on fire. That’s not exactly something you can just walk away from. The only explanation could be— “You… you are a witch,” Chloe says, breathless.

Beca winces like she’s been struck again. “Please, Chloe, hold your tongue,” she hisses. “And put that light out. If any of the nearby homesteads discover—”

“H-how did you survive? I… I saw… They lit a fire under you.” Beca ignores her, turning to a large trunk at the foot of the bed. Chloe frowns. “What are you doing?”

Beca is rummaging through her belongings, throwing together everything she can carry into one canvass sack. “I cannot stay, Chloe. You know that as well as I. They’ll have my head, next. The fact I escaped today was luck; nothing more than that.”

“I… But I saw you.”

“You saw nothing.”

“They set you aflame, yet you did not burn.”

“A trick of the light, that’s all.”

Chloe grabs her by the arm and wrenches her around. “Do not imply that I am mad, Beca. I am not my father; I am not the men of this village — I am not prone to wild, feverish bouts of anger and accusation. I do not mean to accuse you, only to confirm what I already know.”

Beca stares at her, eyes cold and expression unreadable. “And what is it you think you know?”

“You’re a witch. There is no other way you could have survived that fire were it not for—”

“For what?” Beca snaps. “God’s intervention? A pact with the Devil, with goblins and ghouls?”

“For magic.” Chloe breathes the word like a prayer, and it pauses Beca.

She swallows. “Would it matter? If I was a witch?”

“Are you working on behalf of the Devil?”

Beca scoffs. “No. How ridiculous.”

“If you were one of Satan’s minions would you be inclined to tell me?”

“If I were one of Satan’s minions I would already have your soul in hand, would I not? It matters little which power I serve.”

Chloe takes a moment to think. She quirks her head. “Can you guarantee that you will not get caught? That the next town you find yourself in will not chase you from its borders with pitchforks and flames?”

Beca swallows again and says, quieter and more seriously, “No. That is not a guarantee I can provide. When I leave here tonight, there is a very good chance I will be dead in months. We will not see each other again.”

Chloe takes a deep breath. “Can you teach me to be a witch, too?”

Beca’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “You—”

“If I wish to learn magics, are you able to teach me?”

“I… yes. Yes, I can teach you.”

Chloe finally takes Beca’s hand in hers. “Then let us go, quickly; before they think to search for you.”

They dash off together into the night, Chloe’s dress flapping behind her in the wind and Beca’s dress, a little singed ‘round the edges, catches on twigs and branches and the debris of the forest floor.

The moon is full in the sky, the air is crisp and clear, and their feet move so swiftly across the ground that Chloe swears they must be flying.

[cursed-ice-spirits]

100. “I’m sorry. None of this should have ever happened–this is all my fault.”, im curious of seeing how rebeca would feel after having sky sneaking in her dreams, probably causing her pain at some point by accident. idk , feel free to make me cry (:

OW NAR. THAT HURTS.

Hhhhhhhh

100. “I’m sorry. None of this should have ever happened–this is all my fault.”

Rebecca Lord & Skylar Morningstar

———

At first, everything was alright.

Skylar found himself in another dream, set in a beautiful forest with tall trees that seemed… oddly comforting. He hears the sounds of laughter, and he looks up to see a blur of black jumping from tree to tree, whoops of joy escaping.

He later realizes it’s Rebecca. Quiet, fair, Rebecca who looks happier than he has ever seen her.

It’s… a nice change from the frown that usually settles on her face. She only really smiles like that around Andre.

He sees her perk up and turns around, then she grins as she jumps straight off the branch.

“Skylar!”

Skylar starts and he catches her before she hits the ground. She was light. Extremely so. But before he can ask, she hops off.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, although she was laughing. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

“Astral projection, remember,” he says with a small grin. “I was wandering the realm and stumbled upon yours.”

She shrugged. “The more, the merrier.” She grabs his arm with a grin. “Come on. Might as well enjoy some company before I have to deal with Diego’s weird compliments.”

Restraining the urge to tease her (because it definitely wasn’t just weird compliments), he lets her pull him to the center of the forest.

She looked so at ease here, so happy. Usually, she’s very guarded, very controlled. 

Sorta like him.

Nothing was going to go wrong.

Rebecca suddenly tenses up and looks around.

“Something wrong?”

She slowly shook her head, still frowning. “Must be nothing. I’ll go check it out anyway. Stay here?”

Unease curls in his stomach but he nods anyway.

But it did.

And suddenly a sharp scream rips through the air. His blood turns cold.

No.

He turned on his heel and sprinted towards the source of the scream.

No no no no no—

———

“MOM!!!! NOOOO!!! MOM NO!!!”

She was curled up in a ball, wailing and screaming for her mother, with that thing hovering over her. His heart sinks to his stomach as she uncurls and lets out another bloodcurdling scream.

How—

A growl echoes behind him, and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Rebecca screams his name and he whips around to see her crawling away from it, eyes dilated from panic, and he only had a few seconds before she surges forward and slams into him, sending them flying away. A black spell shoots over his head just before they hit the ground hard.

Rebecca shakes her head, blinking rapidly, then she gets up and grabs his arm to yank him to his feet. “Run,” she wheezes.

Skylar squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arm around her shoulders, then they tear through the forest.

“I’m sorry.” He hears himself saying as they continued to run. “None of this should have ever happened–this is all my fault.”

She shakes her head and tugs him to the right just in time to dodge a strange shadow. “Skylar, it’s fine,” Rebecca whispers. “You’re not the only one with a literal demon stuck to your side.”

His mouth falls open. “What—”

“Not the time,” she curses as they duck behind a tree. “Just… tell me what to do.” She looks at him, eyes pleading. “That thing isn’t the sort of thing my mother’s family deals with.”

“You,” he swallows, his mouth dry. “You need to wake up. I usually try by finding my body.”

“Wake up,” Rebecca repeats, her eyes closing. “Got it. And Skylar?”

“Yeah?” he asked, watching the world around them disappear. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” she promises as everything goes black.

———

Skylar seeks her out in the morning. 

Rebecca was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. She never sits at the Hufflepuff table unless it was on special occasions, so it didn’t really surprise him. She was leaning over the table, holding a cup of tea in one hand, talking in a soft voice to Andre, a sketchbook between them. She scribbles something on the page and lets him take a look, then roars with laughter when he jokingly throws it back.

It was like last night never happened. 

Then they lock eyes and her smile freezes on her face.

He doesn’t have to do anything. Rebecca simply turns and tells Andre something, then kisses him on the cheek and gathers her things, yelling her goodbyes over her shoulder as she exits the Great Hall.

Skylar was quick to follow her.

“I’m...” he starts as they came to a stop. “sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she says softly. “I’m fine, and that’s all that matters.”

“You could have gotten hurt.” 

Rebecca shrugged. “I’ve faced worse.”

“Rebecca-”

“Look,” she said, looking at him in the eye. “None of us knew this was going to happen. It caught us both off guard.”

“But still,” Skylar insisted. “You-You can’t pretend that... that thing didn’t hurt you — you were screaming for your mum—”

She averted her eyes. “I would be crying at her mention anyway.” Something flickers over her face. “She... she went insane from grief. There’s no hope for her to recover.”

An ice fist closes around his heart and guilt sweeps him once more. This is all his fault—if he kept that thing under control, she wouldn’t have to experience that—

“But that’s okay,” she continues, her smile strange. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Something flickers behind her — a being with a long neck and a thin and blank face except for a large mouth with sharp teeth dripping with blood, with two white hollow points as eyes. From its midsection, definitely not where it should have been anatomically, thin, long fingers, attached to a thin palm, and long wrist began to emerge. The fingers had an extra joint, making them abnormal. Its skin was black and skeletal as it grips her shoulders tightly, giving the hands a sinister look. 

And just as quickly as it came, it vanished.

“I’ve faced worse.”