Fantasy ♡ need you like a heartbeat. (starboob & ellarose.)

[starboob]

Oh, the sweet, sweet vindication Willow feels when Juliet commends her pizza of choice could send her directly to the moon! Maybe even to Saturn, though she won’t get ahead of herself just yet. It’s only pizza. (But pizza is life…) She taps her feet against the floor, trying to hide her delight; though it’s so obvious that if the power was to go out now, Willow would be glowing bright enough that no one would really notice.

No one else is as delighted as Willow. Clover is dragging her hands down her face. Leif is shaking his head in disapproval. Crimson just shrugs. (She did call it.) Meredith is the only one who keeps her reaction to herself, remaining as quiet and stoic as ever.

Or she's trying to be. Despite herself, she finds herself torn over these developments, caught between glaring and letting her brows rise in mild admiration. The end result only makes her look confused and she supposes that she is. Too bad her resolve to hate Juliet for the crime of being Juliet and daring to give her best friend butterflies is too great for her to let go of so easily. Anyone can trade barbs with Kinsley Prescot. It’s just that few have the tits to do it. That Juliet has the tits is just irrelevant. (Still, she does find herself leaning in a bit more even if her eyes are pointedly fixed on her third or fourth slice of ‘za.)

Mournfully, Clover shakes her head. “Nah, grams would never allow for that. Even when we all got jobs and could buy our own clothes, they’d raise such a fuss that it wasn’t really worth it.” Her grin turns mischievous. “So we took to roughing up our clothes ourselves—well, not goody-two-shoes Willow James.”

“Pfft,” Leif snorts. He washes down a mouthful of a carnivore’s delight slice with some cherry cola and hammers his chest to speed up the process. “Willow? Goody-two-shoes? Are we talking about the same famed clothes thief of Rhode Island Lane? How many of your clothes went mysteriously missing only to show up on Wills’s back a few weeks later?”

The entire table murmurs in agreement, each of them mourning lost pieces they were never able to get back from the little thief. Willow blushes, stuffing her mouth with pizza to avoid having to address these dastardly accusations against her good name.

“That’s why I never leave anything out that I want to keep,” Meredith says. “I’ve been burned way too many times.”

“You best be careful, Jules,” Crimson nods. “It might be Willow James who ends up debuting the Pantera. Although…” She hums thoughtfully. “That might be pretty funny. Maybe it would be the conniption that activates the malevolent living inside of Kinsley.”

Meredith glares at Crimson.

“So are you two going to go to the gala?” Crimson smoothly ignores Meredith. “Aren’t you working the event, Mer?”

She nods, refusing to elaborate. She sinks into her seat, tearing up her uneaten crusts. Willow and Meredith exchange a few glances and when she’s certain her friend is okay, she turns back to Crimson. “We hadn’t really talked about it. I honestly thought we’d missed it. What’s the theme this year?”

“Through The Eras. I bet that’s why Dorothea pushed for Jules to debut the Pantera—though that jacket isn’t exactly Folklore.” Crimson squints, eyeing the various tears and scuffs in the leather. “Aren’t Panteras supposed to patch themselves up?”

“Paolo apparently has a big surprise for the jacket,” Meredith mumbles. “Apparently he’s been grilling Dorothea and Kinsley about where it is and now Kinsley is being a real pill. Well, a bigger fucking pill than she usually is.” She rolls her eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind going.” Willow shrugs, patting her belly. Another slice of tropic pizza or maybe even a barbecue one beckons to her, but she’s so stuffed she might explode. “Might be fun to spend a few days in You York, too. It’s one of the biggest cities in Evermore. What do you think?”

“Dude, do you really think that’s a smart idea?” Clover asks, shoving away her plate. “You’re going to give grandmas a heart attack,” “Hey, don’t joke about that.” “They’ve been trying to convince Meredith to move back in with them.”

“Fat chance.”

“I mean, I think at this point Juliet and I have faced worse than You York.” She knows that they’re all concerned about the murders and the werewolf attacks, but, even if the latter were true, she has full faith that Juliet and herself can handle anything Evermore has to throw at them. Willow summoned a full on rainstorm. Juliet shot King Cayman twice. Though it’s true they still don’t know what they’re up against, they have a quest. They have a princess and a popstar to protect. “Besides, they know about our mission already.”

“And they’re losing sleep over it.” Leif blurts this out before he can stop himself. Regret hits him instantly when Willow winces. “Ah, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. They’re proud of you. We all are, but we’re your family so of course we’re worried.”

“Really? ‘Cause I’m not.” Meredith defiantly crosses her arms over her chest, staring down the other three. “If anyone can handle this quest, it’s Willow fucking James. The last romantic. The stormchild. The girl who’s got more magic in her little finger than half of Elsewhere combined.” She holds up her pinky for emphasis. “Our girl’s studying at the most prestigious institute in Evermore, training under an absolute legend. I get your hang ups, but this is Willow James.”

Willow’s eyes are wide by the end of Meredith’s little speech, her cheeks a little darker. It’s not surprising that her best friend is her loudest cheerleader and it still means everything to the anxious sorceress. If she weren’t determined before, she’s twice as determined now. “Thanks, Mer.”

“What’s she like in action?” Once again, the spotlight is back on Juliet. Clover raises her brow. It’s not a challenge by any means, but the cousin is curious and still obviously concerned for her sensitive younger cousin’s safety. She cried after stepping on a snail shell for Fearless sake! "She a badass?"

 

[ellarose]

"...What?" Juliet scrunches her nose, perplexed and somewhat scandalized at this notion. Bad ass? She finishes sucking some chocolate from one of the magic brownies off her thumb and continues. "Willow does not have a bad ass."

Leif spits up some of his soda, shooting some of it out of his nose. Then he and Clover exchange a glance, raising their eyebrows sky high. (It's takes everything to keep them from bursting into laughter at the insinuations that could be derived from such a statement.) They're only halfway successful in their efforts as they quietly snicker and nudging each other like children. Given the Folklorian's confusion is completely genuine, Crimson shakes her head at their immaturity and elaborates for her. (Though she can't help biting into a small smile of her own.) "Clover's asking if she's been tough." She flexes to demonstrate.

"...Oh. I see." Juliet grabs her second slice of tropic pizza. (Leif and Clover's reactions fly completely over her head.) She repeats it to commit it to memory. "Badass."

Juliet lapses into a thoughtful silence after this. The people sitting around them at this table are worried for Willow James's safety... it sounds that her grandmas especially are struggling. She supposes she ought to be thorough with her observations, if only to offer them some peace of mind.

"Admittedly, I was uncertain at first. When we met, she told me she wished to save love... and then she cowered in fright at the sight of an ogre." Juliet begins slowly, truthfully. That was Willow James before their journey began... but jumpiness is only one small facet of who she is. It's one that some might falsely might define her by. That would be a grave mistake. On that level, she understands the protective feeling that her friends and family harbor for her. It is clear just looking around this table that there are many people who innately wish to protect her. (And the sorceress wishes to protect them in return. She has told her this many times now. They're the reason why she has taken on such a daunting task in the first place.) "It was a natural reaction, given it was her first encounter with a monster from Folklore's wood. Few people dare enter the wood for that reason. That is part of the reason why I worked alone, only traveling with Grace until she arrived."

Grace yips quietly at the acknowledgement, nuzzling affectionately into the crook of her neck. Juliet automatically picks a bite of crust from her tropic pizza, feeds it to her companion and then scratches her behind the ears. It's good to have her back. (Because, honestly, Juliet cannot take all of the credit for her survival. Grace has been there to take care of her all her life... she would not be sitting at this table now without her.) Without Grace present, it is a true testament to Willow and Lucky's reliability that Juliet did not succumb to any of the dangers they encountered in Folklore.

"Instead of running away, however, Willow asked me to train her. What she lacked in experience she made up for in resolve... I could see that she possessed a fire to fight for what she believes in. One that I could respect. So I agreed." She tilts her head to the side, considering everything matter-of-factly. (She doesn't realize fully what she's admitting to Willow for the very first time. Her first impressions. The things that factored into her decision to train her.) As her teacher, she is going to be upfront. "These skills do take time to master... I can confirm that she has been making realistic progress as a fighter ever since. Her form needs work and there is much she still has to learn about wielding Fearless Daylight. We've had much else to focus on lately, so it has been a while since I've given her gentle nudges and training."

Juliet nudges Willow's arm gently while it's on her mind. (...Though it might come across this way, she is not teasing. She still genuinely believes that physical, gentle nudges somehow help with Willow's learning process. Does she understand how or why? No, not quite. She supposes it must be a magic thing.) She nods resolutely once she finishes the nudge, her serious and honest belief in the process shining through. Gnats. She's been neglecting the nudges... she'll need to remember them more often.

"If she continues to work diligently, I am sure she will make a fine huntress and live up to the name of her sword." Juliet nods. As she observed before, the physical fighting is really only one facet of Willow's role of a heroine. "And as a caster? She is already a bad-- badass? Badass. I've no skill whatsoever in casting myself, so I find myself turning to her for help when those situations arise." She considers this, the way her skill for magic sprung up all of a sudden. (But at the same time, there was nothing sudden about it. Willow had clearly studied and practiced intensively long before they met... but she did not show what she was capable of until later in their journey. Juliet wonders what changed.) "She did not cast very much in the beginning... now she does so without hesitation. Her spells have helped us accomplish many things. We were able to enter the tournament thanks to the magicked disguises she made for us." She shakes her head. "A difficult feat to be sure. I tried to sneak into one when I was seven... I was unsuccessful."

Juliet recalls the Labyrinth pulling her down to the depths, her weaknesses on display... the way that Willow reassured her that she did not need to know all of the answers. Since that moment, she has proven herself someone she could lean on, if only from time to time. She wouldn't have survived it without her.

"I've rarely been able to rely on anyone in my life. But I've realized I can rely on Willow James." Juliet admits earnestly. "She was there to take care of me when I was stabbed in the back..."

"Stabbed in the back..." Crimson muses. All around the table, everyone is stunned into silence. (This is the most Juliet has ever spoken in front of them. And, of course, it is largely her discussing the subject of Willow James.) "Like the idiom, stabbed in the back?"

"...I was stabbed in the back. I still have the scar." Juliet shakes her head, not thinking anything of it. "Willow was there for me afterwards. She was also there when I was injured in the joust and when I fell during the tournament. That is when she summoned the storm." There were even more instances than just that... but now it's starting to settle with her, just how much she's been speaking on this subject. It also reiterates that she really does need her rest. Every small thing has piled up on her shoulders-- to such a point that she has struggled enough to constantly need someone to rely on. This bolsters her determination to regain her strength for what's to come. (The pizza is a nice start.)

Hearing about their recent endeavors, Grace leaps from Juliet's shoulder and curls up in Willow James's lap. It's her companion's response that fully jostles Juliet back into the present, reminding her of what she's saying, who she's saying it to, and what's happening. She blushes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me..." Juliet pushes herself out from her place at the table, looking towards the 'crane game' monstrosity that startled her before. Yes, good. A distraction. "I am going to rescue Scaramouch's mother from that coin thieving machine."

"Scare-a-mooch?" Leif asks somewhat dazedly, still stuck on everything that was just said as he watches Juliet leave the table. Then he does a double take and squints, tilting his head at a dramatic right angle. "We didn't get any tokens, did we? Someone should probably tell her, 'cause..."

"Um. I don't think she's going to use tokens. Actually, it kind of looks like she's gonna--" Crimson squints. Juliet takes a stance... and then she leaps into the air, latching onto the side of the machine. The people standing nearby gasp and stare at her in bewilderment. "Y-yep. She's climbing it. We should probably stop her." "Probably. But I kinda want to watch and see what she does." "...Clover."

 

[starboob]

‘She believes in me.’

It’s not a shock. Not exactly. Somewhere, Willow has known that Juliet must have believed in her. She’s too practical a person to not have had some sense that Willow was worth giving a chance. And the sorceress has done everything to prove herself; to prove to Juliet that she had not made a mistake when she agreed to take her under her wing. It had been rough at the beginning. Willow tried muscling through dangers she was not prepared for just to show Juliet she wouldn’t be deadweight, but Juliet never treated her as such. She’s been kind, patient, and encouraging; always reminding Willow to watch until she’s ready. It was immeasurably difficult for her to sit on the sidelines while Juliet moved swiftly through battle, incurring injuries just to protect her, but the archer never faulted her for that. And when the time was right?

Willow blasted Griffith King using his own enchantments against him. Though it was a simple deflection, Juliet treated it like she had put stars in the sky. Since then, she’s been trying to show Juliet that she could put stars in the sky if she really wanted to. (Okay, maybe she’s not that powerful, but that moment changed everything.) Juliet sees the caster that she is. She believes in her.

So it’s not shocking in retrospect. And a kaleidoscope of butterflies still flutters in her chest. ‘I want to kiss her.’ But Juliet is a mere speck, scaling the side of the claw machine. Wait wh—

“Willow? Earth to Willow James, we have a problem.” Crimson waves her hand in front of Willow’s face, finally drawing her attention back to the table. “Shouldn’t you go stop your girlfriend from getting us banned from Cheez’d?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” “But you want her to be.” At this point, Willow’s face is a permanent shade of beetroot. “And, yes, I’ll go stop Juliet, my totally platonic companion, from destroying that claw machine.”

“I got this.” Leif waves his hand for her to sit down, already stepping out of the booth to intercept Hotdog Charlie, the cashier, before he embarrasses himself trying to flirt with a customer. “Finish your slice.” Though that’s what he says, his eyes gesture over to Meredith who is skulking next to her, burning holes into her torn up pizza crusts. She skewers one with her tail. “Clover, Crimson, meet me at the Pop-A-Shot. We’ve got a score to settle.”

The two take the hint and slide out of the booth after Leif, leaving the best friends to themselves. Meredith sighs when everyone is well out of earshot. “I’m not mad.” She clarifies this before Willow can overthink and get into her own head. “Not about Juliet. But I still don’t like her.” She might even like her less than before. Though some part of her wants to believe the archer, for Willow's sake, almost everyone has treated Willow well before taking advantage of her kindness. (That’s where Sabrina gets some points. She never pretended. She was always trash.) Her amber eyes flicker up to Willow’s. It’s a wordless plea and a familiar one, one Willow recognizes whenever Kinsley’s 18th is referenced. “You believe me, right?”

***​

Meanwhile, Leif puts himself between the greasy cashier and Juliet. His greasy dirty blond hair is combed in an embarrassing straight part down the middle and, despite being as old as Leif, he still sports peach fuzz like a teenager. (He really should give it up.) He’s a lanky guy and standing in front of Leif, he seems more like a fishline string. Leif gives him the friendly smile he gives everyone, then places one hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I’ve got this, Charlie. She’s a friend of my sister’s. From out of town, just visiting.”

“Is something wrong with her?” Charlie leans over to take another look. His eyebrows raise. He licks his lips. “Just a friend of Willow’s?”

“Don’t even think about it, Hotdog.” Meredith appears behind the cashier, seeming to come out of thin air. She hisses at him, poking him harshly with her tail. Leif’s grip has also tightened around the cashier’s shoulder. A subtle warning. Hatred for Juliet aside, Meredith’s got an even shorter fuse for creeps. “Get her the stupid doll before I slit your throat.” She jabs her tail underneath his chin, daring him to deny her. Leif swallows. (Yeah, Hotdog deserves it, but Meredith is always so intense.) Meredith's eyes flash orange, for good measure.

Charlie nods rapidly and reaches for the keys on his belt. His hand shakes, causing the keys to jangle. Meredith doesn’t ease her tail until the glass door is opened and Juliet’s secured her prize. (Really, that fugly alien?) Hotdog Charlie scampers back behind the register after that and everyone else around them is pointedly pretending to not pay attention. No one wants to earn the ire of a cursed fae, after all. Once Charlie is gone, Leif awkwardly scratches his jaw, a funny gesture on someone so large and imposing as he is. The tension in the air is thick like butter and it’s not just Meredith’s hostility towards Juliet. “Ah, well… I think I hear Clover calling me.” She is yelling, but she’s yelling at a machine while Crimson laughs at her. “Later, gators.”

“Men.” That’s all Meredith says. A single syllable and the first one she’s uttered to Juliet since her threat earlier. She doesn’t have anything more to say and, thankfully, Willow arrives shortly afterwards, stuffing the last of their leftover pizza boxes into her bottomless miniature backpack. (It’s shaped like a dragon.) Grace is at her heels and Lucky is on her shoulder, looking longingly at the fox. (Why doesn’t Lucky get reward snuggles?) She nuzzles against Willow’s calves and then paws at Juliet’s leg.

“Alright, got our ‘zas.” Willow glances between Meredith and Juliet. Then her eyes land on Scaramouch’s mother. “Did Leif help you win that?”

“No, I threatened Hotdog Charlie.”

“Oh…” Willow scratches her cheek, unsurprised though unsure how to react. (Is this progress? Or Meredith’s vendetta against creeps? Probably the latter.) “Cool, I guess.” He probably deserved it, that creep. “Want to play some air hockey? You and Meredith can play against each other,” maybe work out some aggression, “and I’ll play the winner since I’m the reigning air hockey champ.”

In retrospect, it might have been a bad idea to pit Meredith and Juliet against each other. Or maybe it's a really good idea? Willow can't tell. Meredith doesn't hold back, seeming to only thinly veil that she's imaging the puck as Juliet's face each time she wacks it over to her end of the table. But Juliet is as cool and disaffected as ever. Even with Scaramouch's mother held in one arm, she defends her goal with deft ease and, it seems that once she's figured out the gameboard, she doesn't shy away from hitting back just as fierce. Juliet wins the first match, loses the second, and then takes the third.

Then's it's Willow's turn. She grins. It's rare that she ever engages in competitions, but air hockey is one game that's easier for her to get into. Unlike her spars with Juliet, this game doesn't end in eight moves. The puck is a blur on the board, almost invisible. The score is nil to nil for a long while. Then Willow employs a sneak attack. She fakes like she's going to hit the puck into a zigzag against the walls but instead, at the last second, changes trajectory to hit just at a slighter angle so that it hits one wall and then goes into Juliet's goal. The look on Juliet's face is so worth it. Meredith can't even hide her snicker.

In the end, Willow wins their match up, though it's pretty close. After air hockey, they find Leif, Crimson, and Clover at the strength test machine. (Why Clover is so insistent on this one when she knows she's going to lose is beyond Willow.) Clover's bicep looks like it's going to burst. The light blinks up to the third level. Clown Grip. Crimson has to pull her away before she fights the machine. (Apparently Leif got Iron Grip and Crimson got Semi-Pro.) If it's any consolation to Clover, Willow and Meredith both score between Wimpy and Butter Fingers. Of course, Juliet immediately proceeds to score in the Crusher range, right between Leif and Crimson. Clover looks like she's about ready to challenge Juliet to a wrestling match.

Instead, she settles on the sharp shooter game. "You're an archer, right? Let's see if your skills transfer over to this bad boy." She pats the stock of a fake rifle. "And let's make this... interesting. Loser has to eat a tablespoon of horseradish."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet tilts her head inquisitively at the game, somewhat oblivious to Clover's hankering for a competition. She shrugs. Why not? Without releasing Scaramouch's mother, she lifts one of the fake rifles and tilts it from side to side with the flick of her wrist. It's light enough that she can hold it with one hand and point it at the screen with ease. She's calm now... but had Willow not explained these machines to her earlier, she might have smashed them all by now. (They look like windows. But apparently, what rests on the other side of the glass is not real when it comes to these 'CRTV screens'. The ghouls shambling across the screen in front of her now are positively uncanny... like something from the wood, but with jagged edges and exaggerated, unrealistic features. The others seem to be calling them 'zombies'. Peculiar.

Despite being entirely new to this game (and the concept of 'arcade games' altogether) Juliet is able to keep up relatively well with Clover's 'kill count'. It takes a few tries initially for her to adjust-- and it takes lots of self control for her not to smash the screen with the rifle when the 'zombies' strike particularly threatening poses or gurgle at them. (Gracie hides her face against Willow's calves whenever this happens, also having to remind herself that the images on the screen are not real.) She's focused and starting to exceed Clover's count when...

"Another murder on the news today..." Juliet overhears snippets of conversation at the next machine over. She tries to tune it out, but can't help tensing when they go into more detail. "...had her heart ripped right out of her chest. Do you think it's..."

Murders. Juliet heard bits and pieces about the Evermore murders from Willow. With everything happening in Folklore, however, they had yet to discuss the matter in much detail. But it's... hearts. Hearts, hearts, hearts. As pixellated gore blooms on the screen in front of them, Juliet's aim slips. Flashes of teeth. Of blood, innards all over the forest floor. And then...

("You know what I'm after." Sefarina taunted, her smile as sharp as the tip of the dagger she dragged against Juliet's chest. "Don't you, my heart?")

Juliet's hardened herself enough to make her panic invisible, but she starts missing her targets as her mind slips her into a moment she would rather forget. She hugs Scaramouch's mother closer against her side. 'I can go places you can't follow.' She'd said that confidently enough yesterday... but what if Sefarina is in Evermore? What if she's... no. It's not her. It can't be. It can't be. Blood rushes in her ears. Her heart shudders in her chest like a hunted rabbit.

The game ends and Clover gets to celebrate her win. With an imperceptible tremor in her grip, Juliet sets the fake rifle down. Everyone's voices are muffled and faraway.

Juliet swallows the spoonful of horseradish presented to her without flinching. If anything, the burning sensation in her mouth helps her reel her mind back into the present. She's not here. She's not here. Just breathe. Each breath is fire-warm... it's somewhat comforting. (In her mind, she imagines herself becoming a dragon at will. Burning the tragedy and hurt away in a blazing, brilliant fire. Reducing Sefarina to ashes.) She subtly presses her hand over her knife pocket to feel for its imprint, to remind herself it's there.

"Never mind the game. That was impressive." Crimson observes, wide-eyed. Competitive as ever, Clover looks tempted to try the horseradish herself to see if she can do it as stone-faced as the Juliet just did. She does and instantly regrets it. Her face scrunches up and she rushes for the soda fountain. This rouses snickers from their small group.

Juliet remains quiet, tilting her head to the side as she watches Clover run off. She hugs Scaramouch's mother fully against her chest. (She's not here.) To her, nothing is worse than Dmitri's flaky rings of death. There's also Millie's special 'health' potions... poison. Sefarina flashes through her mind again and Juliet wills her away. (Not here, not here.) Needless to say, her palate has been through a lot. It'll take much more than horseradish to stagger her.

This is when Leif appears at her side, taking this opportunity to bring the subject of donuts back to her attention. He's still trying to gauge her favorite. Meanwhile, Juliet internally debates asking him if the big donut on the donut shop is edible. She needs to know.

"Bet you wish you were that alien right now." Crimson whispers as she sidles up to Willow's side, seeing the way Juliet's clinging on so tightly to Scaramouch's mother. Meredith immediately hits her with a glare that says 'gross' in response. "...What's with her and aliens, anyway? And where'd you guys find that choker? Can't imagine Kinsley Prescott helped her pick that one out."

 

[starboob]

Juliet might believe that she is slick; that she is still acting business as usual, but Willow has become something of a Juliet-ologist and can recognize when something isn’t right. She doesn’t notice immediately. It takes her a second or two, but it’s there. In the way she presses her hand to the knife hiding in her pocket. (Willow needs to discuss the consequences of concealed weapons in Elsewhere with her.) In the way her stare seems a thousand yards away. How she’s quiet (quieter) than she had been before. Perhaps she’s still tired from their (mis)adventures. That is certainly plausible. And, on top of that, Juliet is not a particularly talkative person as it is—though she had a lot to say about Willow’s training earlier—so maybe she should not be so suspicious. But Willow would not be a budding scholar in Juliet-ology if she were not diligent in her studies and as she mentally backtracks, she puts together that the archer started missing her marks after those two dudes loudly discussed the latest murder in You York.

Her suspicion only rises when she notes the way Juliet clutches Scaramouch’s mother. It must look like jealousy, because Crimson is quick to tease her about it. (Okay, maybe she does want to be the plush alien, but that is beside the friggin’ point!) She ignores Crimson altogether and tugs on Leif’s shirt sleeve. “Hey, can we go home? I’ve been up since too early o’clock and I’m pretty beat.”

***​

It takes them longer to get home than Willow would prefer, but Leif had been insistent on stopping by Wilco’s for a birthday donut. She suspects that’s just a cover and that he’s really just interested in finding out what Juliet’s favorite donut is. (He takes his donuts pretty seriously.) She doesn’t have the will to fight him on this and, besides, Juliet does seem to like the donuts so she agrees. Though what should have been a five minute detour turns into a half hour when the donut barista informs them that a fresh batch will be out soon. Again, Willow doesn’t protest. It’s hard to beat a fresh donut.

By the time they get their order and start walking back towards Leif’s pick-up, a quarter of the donuts are gone. Two blocks out and they’ve disappeared. Regret forms in the pit of Willow’s stomach in the form of a tummy ache, but that doesn’t stop her from schlooping up the last donut hole. (In for a penny, out for a pound, as they say.)

When they finally arrive back home, they say their goodbyes to Crimson and Clover; Crimson teases Willow one last time and Clover gives her a birthday noogie. After that, Meredith, Willow, and Juliet part ways with Leif to head up to Willow’s bedroom.

Meredith immediately makes herself at home by belly flopping onto the bed, wordlessly agreeing to let the heroines share the blanket fort. Willow snaps into some pajamas and offers to put up a privacy screen for Juliet to change, then downs the maximum recommended amount of antacids to soothe her stomach. Meredith eventually snaps into her own pajamas then flips over onto her back. A second later and she’s bolt upright, grabbing her tail and wringing it between her hands. “So.” (Willow tenses.) “You said earlier you wanted to go to You York and attend the gala? Right… Well, you and I guess Juliet can stay at mine, but I want in.”

“Meredith…”

“Don’t, Willow.” Meredith gives her a hardened look. She sets her hands down onto her knees and Willow can tell she’s barely holding back her talons from sharpening. “You know this is important to me. You know I’m literally the expert in what you’re investigating.”

For a second, Willow debates playing oblivious but knows that won’t do anything other than delay the inevitable. She sighs and slumps down into a freshly summoned beanbag. She duplicates it and then slides the second one over to Juliet so that she has a place to sit as well. This all is to stall. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” It’s not that Willow doesn’t understand Meredith’s investment in their quest and the potential connection to the recent string of murders plaguing Evermore, but… “This case really works you up and you don’t even know if it’s connected. We’re not even technically investigating those murders.”

“Yeah, but even you were starting to see a possible connection earlier. It can’t be a coincidence.” Meredith’s eyes are as wide as she is insistent. She’s leaning in so far forward that she could roll right off the bed. “Think, Willow. Creepy cult and then murders? It’s just like senior year all over again! And, even if it’s not, don’t you both want to be as prepared as possible?”

Dang. She knows Willow too well. Meredith grins when she realizes she’s touched on Willow’s major weakness: The desire to be as prepared as possible. “So you’ll let me help?”

“Well…” Willow’s eyes slide over to Juliet. Meredith narrowly withholds a groan. “Juliet and I are the heroines of love. We’re a team. Co-captains. If Juliet agrees, then I guess it’s fine. But that means you have to work together and you have to share what you know with her. Catch her up to speed.”

Meredith looks like she’s being tortured, not that she’s necessarily surprised. “For real?”

“For real. And, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t want you involved.” Guilt worms its way through Willow, but she continues. “I don’t want you to get hurt. What we’re doing is dangerous. After the Elsefaire incident… I have a feeling Charming Street is going to be watching us." Before Meredith can protest, she holds up her hand. "That said… I know I can’t stop you, either. I’d rather have you involved, know what you’re doing, than to push you to the sidelines. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you. You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” But Meredith can’t promise that and Willow’s almost worried they’ve already jinxed themselves and tempted the fates. “I’m tough as nails, like a fucking pirate.” She deposits a quarter into Mer’s Swears. “And I want to punch Sabrina in her stupid fucking face.” Away goes another quarter. “So, if a truce is what it takes,” she looks over at Juliet, “then fine. Truce or whatever.” She even pulls the bright orange scrunchy off her wrist and bleeds its color until it's white, waving it through the air.

 

[ellarose]

"Or whatever." Juliet repeats the phrase slowly as she watches the scrunchy change from orange to white, like an autumn day blanketed in winter snow. (She's not repeating it to challenge the fae or anything like that-- more so to observe what she presumes is another Evermorian saying. 'Or whatever.') Given there's no hostility from her own end (as of now, anyway) it's really Meredith who will have to come to terms with the arrangements Willow has set in place. When she considers their conversation earlier, she finds herself wondering if she's doing it for her sake or if there's more to it.

Based on their exchange, Juliet gauges that there is. Once again, they speak of this 'senior year' and a possible connection without elaborating very much on the details-- in their familiarity, they seem to speak a language all of their own. Although she shouldn't, she cannot help feeling like she shouldn't be there. She stands so far behind them both that doubts begin to creep up within her. Is it really her place to come here, to engage in matters that don't truly involve her? Willow may discover that Meredith is a better partner for her on her quest and then...

No. Willow has mentioned the potential of a connection between what's going on in both of their worlds. It's why she traveled to Folklore and met Juliet in the first place. There's a reason why they met the way they did. If this thread between them is real and not a trick like all the others, then the fates deigned for this to happen.

...But why?

Then there's... 'had her heart ripped right out of her chest'. Yet another connection arises and it's one that only Juliet can see. She wonders if she should tell them... but whenever her lips part to speak it, her palms become cold and clammy and her heart starts to race. The only person she's ever trusted with the entirety of her experience was Viola. And after that... after... (It doesn't matter anymore.)

Even if it isn't Sefarina, there could still be a connection in regards to the murderer's motive. If she isn't careful, someone else might decide to target her instead. Juliet glances at the thread in front of her, at Willow, and then averts her gaze. Since the sorceress has been at her side this whole time, she cannot see her being involved in this. It's doubtful she's using their thread to reel her in towards a sacrificial altar, wielding love like a sharpened knife. ( 'Juliet and I are the heroines of love. We're a team.' 'You're not sleeping in the barn, Juliet. That's ridiculous.' 'I want you here.') She's not like her, not like...

Curling up in the corner, Juliet hugs onto both Grace and Scaramouch's mother. (She hasn't released the alien plush since she received it. She has never owned a stuffed toy of this size before, nor one this soft... it's nice. She rates it 'five out of five' stars.) It takes a moment before she realizes she's said very little on the topic and hesitates before offering more input on the situation.

"It's clear this is important to you." Juliet offers, nodding towards Meredith. She can empathize with that. If the fae is already involved in this, it is not her place to tell her to leave it alone. Especially not as an outsider. "...Do what you want."

 

[starboob]

While she waits for Juliet's decision, Meredith pulls her knees up to her chest and grips her toes, rocking back and forth. She never takes her eyes off of Willow's companion (and future heartbreak). For a moment, she almost regrets her behavior earlier. Then she quickly brushes that off, because she’s Meredith Ardent and she’s never wrong (except for the twelve or so times she has been wrong) and Juliet earned that reaction after fucking tackling her and threatening her with a knife.

She holds her breath.

Then Juliet agrees. Well, she doesn’t agree, but she more or less doesn’t care whether or not she participates. Meredith is only slightly offended by this, because it’s a fucking honor and delight to have her on their team, but decides against souring things since they’re officially under truce. She flings the scrunchie in Juliet’s direction (Willow whispers to her that she’s supposed to wear it around her wrist now), then flings the orange color she gathered onto Willow’s desk. (It now becomes apparent the desk is not paint splattered, but Meredith splattered.) “Shit,” gone is another quarter, “I should have brought my notes. This would be so much easier with my notes!”

Willow rolls her eyes and then summons two blankets from their blanket fort; one for her and one for Juliet. They're in for a long night.

***​

Eight years ago, Kinsley Prescot turned eighteen. Because her birthday was usually the week before the second semester of school started, it was Elsewhere High tradition that her birthday party also serve as the Welcome Back To School Bash. With her eighteenth also aligning with the last semester of their senior year, it was a highly anticipated event. And, as per usual, her parents were out of town, most likely doing business in You York or cheating on each other. (Or both.) To make up for their annual absence, it was customary for the Prescots to let Kinsley do whatever the fuck she wanted for her birthday bashes.

With a limitless budget, the socialite spared no expense. Everyone was invited—including troglodytes like Meredith Ardent and Willow James. Ordinarily, the duo spent the weekend before the second semester watching romcoms, eating obscene amounts of Starbursts, and drinking liters of Coca Cola. But that year, Meredith made a point of going. She hopped up onto their bed and proclaimed, “I want to get trashed like a rich girl. C’mon, Willow. We probably won’t even see your rotten ex. Everyone is going to be there.”

(“Dorothea is not rotten, Mer. We weren’t going to work out and we both acknowledged that.”)

It took little to convince Willow to go along, mostly because she wanted to make sure her friend made it home safe. Meredith was a little more than wild in high school and prone to making questionable decisions. (“I resent that comment. Let me tell the story.”)

Meredith blasted the radio. They danced, had a fashion show, did their make-up, took shots, then snuck out Willow’s bedroom window. (“You know, I think my grandmas totally knew we used to sneak out all the time.” “Oh, no doubt.”) When they arrived, the party was already raging. The music shook all of Charming Street. The Prescot mansion glistened like a diamond. Lights flashed from inside. It almost hurt to look at. Rumor goes that the party could be seen from space.

Girls were already throwing up in the bushes. A nerd was being dangled from his ankles over the balcony. Fireworks were going off. Champagne flowed like a river—the fountain right outside the mansion had even been replaced with champagne. Once they got inside, flutes were handed to them and the air was so thick with smoke that one whiff got them both a little more than high. Willow had said, “Just an hour, okay?”

But Meredith heard, “I want something sour.” To which she replied, “Alright, sounds good!” And they split, wandering dazedly through the mansion. Boys were streaking. Someone jumped into the pool from the roof. Kinsley’s sisters were swinging from the chandelier. Distant and constant, “Chug, chug, chug!” echoed from the kitchen.

Everyone was talking about Kinsley’s grand entrance an hour or so prior, commenting on the dress she wore. Meredith thought to herself, ‘Fucking disco tits.’ Deciding it would be a good idea to piss off the birthday girl with her presence alone, she set out to find her and was unsuccessful. Not surprising, the house was ginormous.

Eventually, Meredith ran into Dorothea. Surprisingly, Griffith wasn’t hovering over her shoulder. She was shitfaced and when she saw Meredith she grinned wide and grabbed her shoulders. “Ohmygods, you’re here!” Her words were slurring together pretty bad by that point. “Where’s Willow? I think,” —hiccup— “she’s avoiding” —hiccup— “me.”

“She is.” Meredith never beat around the bush. “Hey, do you know where Kinsley is? I want to piss her off.”

“Y’know I haven’t” —hiccup— “seen her in abou’ an hour? Tell Willow I want,” —hiccup— “t’talk!”

“No.” Meredith left shortly after that, once again wandering the property, determined. Though she hates to admit it, she was starting to get worried. No one had seen her since her entrance. That’s when she spotted Griffith and his goons sliding through some double doors, looking suspicious as fuck. Meredith, naturally, followed. But when she got to those double doors, they were locked. She pressed her ear to the door, but that was useless because the music and everyone else were too fucking loud. So she peered through the keyhole. She caught a flash of Kinsley's rumored disco tit outfit. Then there was a scream, followed by an explosion of darkness.

Meredith was thrown backwards. She hit a column and knocked out for who knows how long. When she came to, the door was open but the room was empty. She would have searched for clues, but Willow found her a minute or so later, barely holding back tears. “C-Can we go?”

So they went.

***​

“When the semester started, Kinsley didn’t show up to school for a week and when she did come back, she wasn’t Kinsley Prescot,” Meredith continues. She’s been up from the bed since she got to the Dorothea part of the story and now paces back and forth in front of the heroines. “Sunken eyes, with deep dark circles underneath—you could tell even with the layers of makeup she had slathered on herself. Her neck was mottled with bruises and her hair was completely limp.”

“It was weird,” Willow admits.

Meredith nods, then continues. “She was like that for a week or so, then the first murder happened; not too far from school, either. It was brutal.”

“Heart ripped right out of his chest. His eyes were scratched out, too.”

“Yeah, but the eye thing doesn’t happen with all the victims, just those early ones. Anyway, the first murder happened and it’s not immediately apparent, but Kinsley’s appearance starts to improve. I honestly didn’t notice until the third or fourth one.” Meredith taps her chin, shutting one eye as she debates the accuracy of that. “Around the fifth one, she’s back to normal. And, like, it wasn’t my first thought to make this connection between Kinsley’s state and the murders. I was so focused on the murders, I really wasn’t paying attention. But what tipped me off—”

“Ducking Griffith.”

“Ducking Griffith,” Meredith agrees solemnly. She pinches the bridge of her nose, then explains. “I had a few free periods my senior year and worked in the office, helping the school secretaries. One day one of them asked me to get her a can of pop from the vending machine and on my way over, I passed by the boys bathroom.”

***​

“Dude, you didn’t say that was going to happen!”

“Chill the fuck out, Conrad. It’s fine. I have this under control.”

“Murder. You have murder under control? I fucking knew that was a bad idea—”

“Shut up. Listen to me. Forget what you saw at the party. Forget about what we did.”

“Yes, Griffith.” A pause. “What were we talking about?”

“I asked if you were going to practice today or if your old man is still insisting you go home after school.”

***​

“I started spying on the football team after that.” Meredith slumps down into a third beanbag that Willow duplicated for her a moment prior. “Willow helped me with a disguise, I created some fake records to enroll as Bradley Rushmore, and joined the football team. Football is a no cut sport. Anyone can join.” Meredith pushes back her green bangs and stares up at the stars painted on Willow’s ceiling. “I got caught pretty quickly and nearly expelled, but fuck.” At this point Meredith has started “borrowing” quarters from Willow. “They were acting shady as shit. No one even seemed to remember Kinsley’s party when I asked. Chalked it all up to being blackout drunk, but I just didn’t believe them.

“Meanwhile, the murders start slowing down and Kinsley’s starting to look worse again. I don’t think much of it and, honestly, I kinda relished it.” She grins over the memory. Fuck that bitch. “She’s acting weird. Not even challenging me in the hall when I was out of my disguise. Dorothea and her weren’t hanging out. Figured it was just drama on Charming Street—what’s new, right?

“Well, the murders pick up again. The freshman charms teacher gets murdered on school grounds. Broad fucking daylight.” Willow grimaces, clutching Lucky tightly. (They’re passed out on her chest.) “Obviously, they cancel the rest of classes and as everyone’s evacuating, I see Kinsley fucking Prescot covered in blood. Griffith’s doing his best to shield her from view, but he’s a fucking idiot so I saw. I was ready to make a scene and I kinda did. I was still in my Bradley disguise and that’s how I got caught. I approached them and called her something only Meredith Ardent calls Kinsley—Pigsley. It’s a blur after that. I know Griffith tried hexing me, but, like I said, he’s an idiot. Memory curses don’t work on fae of my bloodline.” She supposes it’s one of the perks of having ancestors who slew a malevolent and feasted on its flesh. “Anyway, since he couldn’t hex me, he did the next best thing. Exposed me. Suddenly, somehow, despite there being a literal fucking murder on campus, the whole school is talking about how I was spying on the football team.

"I tried telling my story, but no one believed me. Well," she nudges Willow's leg with her foot, grinning, "except for Willow. Had it not been for Willow, I probably would have burned that school down. Anyway, that's why I want in. I know I'm fucking right and I know something's up with Kinsley and I know it's fucking Griffith's fault."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet doesn't sleep that night.

It'd be a reasonable enough excuse to say that she slept the entire afternoon away and isn't tired anymore. Still, she tries not to make it too obvious. She lies perfectly still in the blanket fort with her eyes shut, holding Scaramouch's mother over her heart like a shield. 'It was brutal. Heart ripped right out of his chest.' She squeezes her new plush tighter, restlessly waiting for the sounds of Willow and Meredith's breathing to deepen and indicate that they're both asleep. When she's certain they are, she rises. The memories will catch up to her if she stays still. So she sneaks out.

Well, not necessarily 'out'. With the potential dangers Evermore poses in mind, Juliet doesn't stray all too far. (She doesn't mean to worry Willow, after all.) She stays inside the Rhode Island house-- all she really does is venture downstairs. Grace accompanies her, introducing her to some of her new gneabils friends among the way. One with a little branch-like spike sticking out of their head takes an immediate liking to her after they're properly acquainted and hops aboard the archer's shoulder to keep her company on her after midnight stroll. The tiny creature reminds her of a certain clink-clank in the wood back home... she finds herself wondering if these creatures have parallel twins as well.

...Does Sefarina have a parallel twin?

Juliet shakes the thought and continues making her way downstairs, specifically seeking out the cozy-looking nook surrounded by books that she noticed before. It's been a long, long while since she last had the opportunity to sit down and read, to lose herself in the pages of someone else's story. Stories have always been the closest she could get to escaping her own life. (...It's why she keeps asking Willow for them, even as her better judgement warns her against it.) The story she heard tonight wasn't quite so much an escape as it was a grim reality. It was necessary that she hear it, to be sure, but now she can't help but tense at the sight of every shadow she passes.

Juliet knows what it is to have a target painted on her back, to be hunted like prey. Knowing they're now actively seeking someone who would do the same to their victims that Sefarina tried to do to her, she...

She's not scared. Of course she's not. It's just...

Juliet leaps backward, nimble and quiet like a cat when she notices Elva sitting in the very nook she sought out with a large tome laid flat in her lap. The archer recovers quickly, so quickly it'd be easy to mistake her fear for a meagre trick of the light. Elva smiles apologetically. (She noticed.) In that moment she recalls what Leif had said at dinner, mentioning that the grandmas haven't been sleeping well themselves.

"My, my. What do we have here?" Elva asks, her voice tinged with gentle amusement. Her eyes, though, are slightly creased at the corners in a way that gives away her worry. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to startle you." Her gaze flits down to Grace at her side. "...You seem to be feeling much better now." She chuckles softly. "Oh, she worried for you so. I rather understood how she felt. We spent many sleepless nights together, didn't we Grace?"

Though Juliet is reluctant to approach, Grace doesn't seem to mind at all. She approaches Elva and curls up at her feet.

"I... actually..." Juliet stammers, slightly taken aback. (Grace has grown very fond of them. It's extremely rare that the shy fox is this comfortable around anyone other than Juliet.) All the more reason for... Seeing the opportunity she has, she reaches into her satchel for the book she picked up for Elva, bowing her head respectfully as she offers it to her. "I wanted to thank you properly for taking care of Grace when I could not. Thank you."

"Now, I won't say it was no trouble..." Elva is honest, squinting her eyes playfully at Grace. The fox guiltily hides her face against her paws. Juliet bites her lip, recalling the scratch marks all over Willow's room. (They're the troublesome duo.) "But the fact that you're taking such good care of our Willow means everything to us. You didn't need to get us anything. The gesture is very much appreciated, though." Now she takes the time to look at the book she's been presented with, running her thumbs thoughtfully over the side. Her eyes sparkle with genuine interest. "What a thoughtful gift this is."

"I didn't mean to interrupt." Juliet blushes, thankful for the cover of darkness in the dimly lit room. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she debates leaving-- perhaps finding some other nook to read in. (There were plenty of stacks strewn about the house, after all.) "I can..."

"You're a reader, aren't you Juliet? I can tell." Elva shakes her head, stopping her and insisting without words that she'll hear none of that. "If you'd like a recommendation, the third novel from the top of that stack is one of Willow's favorites." She smiles knowingly, nodding encouragingly to one of the nearby sofas. "Would you mind keeping me company?"

Juliet swallows down any sort of protest. When she phrases it like that... she supposes it couldn't hurt. She selects the book that Elva recommended and curls up on the sofa with it. Elva doesn't say any more after that-- they just read in companionable silence while Grace snores softly at their feet.

The little gneabil on Juliet's shoulder endeavors to read along with her, though there's no telling whether or not it actually comprehends what it's looking at. When she eventually stops turning pages, it's about to give her a gentle nudge her to remind her to move along-- but then it pauses, noticing that she's finally drifted off to sleep. Nearby, Elva's already prepared with a knitted blanket, which she lays carefully over the sleeping archer. Then she gingerly lifts the book from her hands and sets it down at her side before it can fall against her face. Once that's done, she grabs a blanket of her own and settles back down into her chair.

 

[starboob]

The Rhode Island house stirs before the first rooster even has a chance to crow. It’s Elva and Juniper who are the first to rise. Elva waits patiently in her chair, pretending to sleep while Juniper prepares their morning tea and only when it’s ready does Juniper tiptoe into the front room and press her lips to her lover’s temple. Elva’s hands are already reaching for the warm mug. They share another kiss then quietly leave the archer alone, slinking off to the porch as is their morning ritual. Valeria sneaks in as the grandmas leave and the small bear curls up in the warm seat left by her companion. Not too long after, Mallard follows and uses Valeria as a bed.

It’s Tita Barbie who rises next and when she notices the sleeping archer, she avoids the creakiest steps and floorboards as she makes her way to the kitchen. There, she prepares the first pot of coffee and turns on the burner to warm up the special birthday soup she made for Willow last night. Then she digs through the fridge for various ingredients to cook a breakfast big enough for an army. Ordinarily, she might have settled to pour herself a bowl of cereal or toast a bagel, lather it in cream cheese, and content herself with no more. But Willow and Meredith are both home and Willow has brought home her friend, so she elects to cook something hot for everyone. Barbie might never say, 'I love you,' with words, a longstanding point of contention with her daughter, but she says it in other ways. In the ways she cooks everyone's favorites when they're home; how she always piles their plates with too much food; how she critiques her loved ones. No, she is not an easy woman to be around, but she does love in her own way.

When she hears her husband’s noisy clambering from upstairs, she tracks his footsteps until he’s at the top of the stairs and with one powerful, “Tsssoot!” Uncle Lenny understands to keep himself quiet. Even so, he can’t help his overdramatic yawn when he finds his wife in the kitchen, slumping down into one of the wooden chairs. It screeches loudly against the floor. She scowls at him. He pretends not to notice, accepting the morning coffee she offers him. Two sugars, no cream, just how he likes it.

Certainly, it would be easier for the Rhode Island house to cast a spell over the front room to keep noise from disturbing the archer, but this is the way the inhabitants show their care, always happy to adjust their habits for their guests.

It's many hours later when Meredith and Willow rouse, tangled in each other's limbs. At some last night, Willow remembers waking up to find Juliet missing, but before panic could grip her, their thread glimmered in the dark and pointed gently downstairs. Too tired to fret over why, she crawled into bed next to her best friend, just like old times, and now wakes with Meredith's head on her chest, her fist curled around her shirt, and one leg thrown over her own. Meredith squeezes her eyes tightly and noses into Willow's neck with a groan. (She hates waking up.) Willow, with eyes still closed, rubs her back consolingly.

The pair take their time rising, their tired brains not waking up nearly as fast as their bodies. It's comfortably quiet between them, communicating only in grunts, shrugs, and gestures. They take turns with the bathroom one floor down, then help each other with their outfits. Meredith throws on a pair of striped drawstring pants and matches it with a black band t-shirt that she's converted into a crop muscle tank. Then she fusses over several different combinations of necklaces. Willow goes for something a little more atypical for herself, though perhaps because she's trying to get a certain archer's attention. She selects a green dress with a sunflower print and wears it over a cream colored t-shirt. The dress cinches at the waist and, most importantly, the knee-length skirt has pockets. Once Meredith has figured out the perfect combination and layering of her accessories, they tiptoe downstairs, having noticed the silence. Snoops, now comfortably out of hiding, follows faithfully at Meredith's heels.

As they near the bottom of the steps, that's when they notice Juliet sleeping on the sofa. Snoops immediately makes himself small and shivers behind Meredith’s legs. She scoops up her companion, giving him consoling behind the ear scratches that somehow communicate, “Yes, I know. She’s totally evil, but we just have to put up with her for a little while and then Willow will come to her senses.” Willow misses this impressive exchange, too enamored with the sight of Juliet in the morning, as per usual. Meredith rolls her eyes, unsurprised. She mumbles something about getting their coffee then kisses Willow’s cheek before she pads down the hall.

Like a total creep, Willow stays and watches her companion, observing the slow rise and fall of her breath. She wonders what it’d be like to wake up in her arms or to have her in her arms when she wakes up. It’s then that the archer starts to stir and Willow doesn’t realize until it’s too late. She’s been caught. It doesn’t matter how quickly she pulls her gaze away to pretend she’s interested in Mr. Spider’s cobweb in the corner, Juliet forever knows her companion is a creepazoid. Her cheeks color at the thought, slowly bringing her attention back to Juliet. “Ah… Sorry. You just looked comfortable.” Cute is what she wants to say, but she’s not sure if they’re there yet. “I could just snuggle right up next to you.”

Yeah, she wishes she could disappear, but Juliet already knows she’s an embarrassing person so this really isn’t news. She stares down at her socks, then back over to the archer, then to the book at her side. “Oh, that’s an apt choice.” Sleepless Nights: A Collection of Love Stories by Folklore’s Finest. “Which one did you read? My favorite is the one where the Big Bad Wolf stumbles upon the Beast’s castle and they fall in love.”

Meredith makes a barfing sound as she comes up behind Willow. “That one is terrible.” She hands Willow her coffee then settles into Elva’s chair (now free of companions). “It romanticizes asshole on asshole dynamics.” Mer's Swears is overfull by this point, so she gets some free passes until the grandmas empty it.

“I just like that is shows there’s someone for everyone, just as they are.” She takes a sip of coffee; two creams, one sugar with a hint of vanilla. “Besides, you like the one where Little Red Riding Hood escapes the Big Bad Wolf, finds Snow White, and then breaks her curse with a kiss. That doesn’t even make sense! They don’t know each other and why would Red’s first thought, after surviving a near death experience, witnessing the murder of her granny, be to kiss some corpse woman?”

“It’s true love, Willow! Isn’t that your entire shtick?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s magic.” Now Willow is getting heated. Never talk to the love scholar about true love. Meredith, however, seems to be amused. “They need to know each other first. Juliet,” she loudly slurps more of her coffee. “What do you think? You're also a heroine of love, back me up here.”

 

[ellarose]

Snuggle? Juliet's sleep-fogged mind lingers on the word even as Willow and Meredith begin a conversation about the stories in... ah, right. The book. The one Elva recommended the night before. She sits up slowly, struggling to reorient herself downstairs in the Rhode Island house. The sun is now filtering in through the windows and everyone else has already risen for the day... the archer cannot help but find it a little unnerving to know that others have been up around her and she never once stirred. (Such an oversight would mean death out in the wood... but in the Rhode Island house? There's nothing but quiet conversation, the smell of coffee and warm breakfast. It's... safe here.) 'I just like that it shows there's someone for everyone, just as they are.'

Juliet blinks, picking absently at the end of the knitted blanket bundled in her lap. (And when did this...) Their attention turns over to her before she's prepared for it. Well, Willow's does. Meredith still seems rather keen on avoiding her, even if she's still wearing the white truce scrunchy around her wrist.

"It depends on the person, I suppose." Juliet muses thoughtfully, glancing down at the cover of the book. Falling in love can look and feel beautiful at first. It's what happens afterwards that matters most. That's the thing about many of these fairytales. Two people meet, there's a spark, and then it's 'they lived happily 'till the end of their days'. There's no heartbreak a few months down the line. No fights, no betrayal, no running away. No attempted murder. None of that. It's pure and simple. (Does love like that really exist? If so, Juliet has never experienced it. And given the state of her heart, tainted beyond repair, she doubts she ever will.) "I think intention is the most important thing. Do you feel loved when you're with that person? Do you feel safe?"

Juliet wraps her arms around her middle, her hand brushing the scar over her chest. While there are less shadows for her to hide in now, Sefarina's memory still looms over her along with everything they have yet to face. "Do they learn things about you because they're interested... or do they learn because they wish to use that information to control you? That distinction is very important." 'Don't stop there. I want to know everything there is to know about Juliet August.' She narrows her eyes. (Is she saying too much, now?) "Not everyone can be trusted with love. Some have definitions of love that are skewed and dangerous... they use it like a trap. A weapon. It's this twisted misuse of love that creates the very issue that Folklore faces now."

True love used to mean something in Folklore, like it did in the fairytales in this book. Now, threads and soul mates are disregarded or outright manipulated by the royals-- and others-- in their quests for power. Their stories have long said true love is the strongest source of magic in their world. Now countless nobles and scum try to replicate it for their own gain, they try to fool the narrative into offering them fairy gifts, prestige and the like. People like Prince Devlin like to envision the romantic sunset cast over the kingdom and the subjects he'll get to rule over with a pretty and conveniently silent princess standing next to him. (...All the while ignoring the fact that Princess Elise is most talkative around those she feels comfortable around.) And the people of Amoria will sigh, they'll call it the perfect ending, one for the books, regardless if the princess actually feels seen, heard, or loved.

Those who don't manipulate are manipulated, they're herded into following the path they think is expected of them rather than acting on their own true feelings. The dishonesty, the facades, it's all a part of the overarching issue. Juliet would know because she's one of them. She's had to wear a mask for the longest time to survive... but the second her helmet came off during the tournament, everything changed. She's more determined now than ever to unmask everyone. Bring the ugly truth to the surface, so the fates can see for themselves that something needs to change.

"True love saves the day..." Juliet shakes her head at the sentiment, setting the book aside. "The most vile of liars have become wise to that narrative, haven't they?"

Noticing that both Willow and Meredith are dressed for the day, Juliet blushes and quickly excuses herself. She does it to get dressed as well, yes, but also to avoid speaking any further on the subject of love. Like Willow, she is equally passionate on this subject... she just tends to keep it quiet and toned down. Well, until now... but there's something about this place that inspires it from her. Something about the sorceress's company. Having fought by her side for this long, through the entirety of that tournament, perhaps she's beginning to feel that she's capable of seeing the problems in Folklore from a similar perspective.

There's a danger in over sharing, though. A danger that Juliet just spoke about in excess. Upstairs, the archer groans softly as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. (Today she settles on a black top with a dramatic v-neck, just to try something new and bold. She briefly considered the 'crop top' that would also expose her midriff... but ultimately decides against it for now. The one she's wearing now offers glimpses of her bruises and scars as it is.) Her outfit is fine, she thinks, but-- but why did she say all of that? Shaking her head, she grabs the go-to finishing touches to her 'look'. Her bitchin' boots, Scaramouch choker and the Pantera... A Scaramouch patch appears on the sleeve when she turns at an angle. The little alien buddy it depicts holds a knife, much like the goose in the thrift store. While the magic of this jacket perplexes Juliet, it also provides her with an odd sense of comfort.

Once that's sorted and Juliet has mostly recovered her composure, she ventures back downstairs for breakfast. (Her cheeks warm when she notices that Willow saved the seat next to her... or, um, no. Her cheeks must be turning pink because the food smells so good? It's a natural response. Very natural.) The archer then checks left and right, quickly noticing that Meredith's missing.

"...Where did Meredith go?" Juliet asks, about to sit down... and then she thinks better of it. (She shouldn't assume.) "Or-- was she going to sit here?"

 

[starboob]

After Juliet excuses herself, Willow takes the seat on the sofa, blinking perplexedly. Meredith shares the same shock, staring off in the direction the archer left. For a long moment the two of them are silent, chewing on Juliet’s insights on love and true love. It annoys Meredith that she agrees so much and makes her like the archer just a little bit more; this means she has to also hate her a little bit harder to keep her own distance, since Willow won’t.

Then there’s Willow who also finds herself agreeing.

True love is more than the classic fairytale sign off, “And they lived happily ever after.” Much as she’d like it to be, she understands that true love is true work, the purest abundance of understanding and compromise for and with another soul.

The upsetting truth is that in Evermore, love and soulmates are all taken for granted and, like Juliet says, are used and manipulated. Somehow a faulty assumption has spread that the threads of gold that connects two together means that there is no need for effort; that the person at that other end will never leave and can never leave. So some people find themselves in misery instead of love, but at least they are not alone. (A real saying! “We’re miserable, but at least we’re not alone.” Meredith’s dad used to say it before he was misted and Willow suspects her own mother thought it before she left.) In Evermore, the worst fate is to die alone and their strings, some believe, are what ensures they won’t. So long as they find their tether, they never have to worry or change or work for those sparks.

Willow wants something different and intends to be different with Juliet. It is true that butterflies first hatched in her chest upon meeting the archer, but that was mostly over the possibility that they could be destined for Forevermore. She does believe that they have potential and she does not want to force it if Juliet ends up feeling differently. As of right now, she settles on hinting at her feelings and hopes for their future.

Of course now she’s not quite so sure she’ll be able to be so subtle. After hearing what Juliet has to say on the subject, speaking so passionately, she finds herself plummeting head over heels.

Willow sighs dreamily and Meredith reaches over to kick her with her foot. Willow scrunches her eyebrows. Meredith replies in eye rolls and mouth movements. Then they’re both grinning. Willow launches herself off the sofa to tackle her in the chair. They laugh and then they're hauling themselves into the dining room.

Tita Barbie’s spread is laid out across the long table, kept fresh and hot with a dash of magic. Meredith and Willow are the first to file in and while Willow waits for everyone, Meredith starts piling her plate with garlic fried rice, fried eggs, and some of the sweet red pork. As she puts together her plate, she simultaneously wolfs it down in what appears to be a single action. “Don’t mean to jet so soon, but I gotta get my place ready,” she explains as she shoves a hearty bite between her cheek and gum, steps over the bench, and washes everything down with a large glug of coffee. She kisses Willow’s temple. “Tell Tita the food was delish and ring me once you get to my stop, I can pick you up from the train station unless you’d rather bus it. Love ya!” For good measure, she messes with Willow’s hair before she dashes out the door.

Willow is shaking her head and fixing her hair when Leif comes in a second later, his hair an absolute state. His eyes are still droopy and heavy with sleep and when he sits down on the bench across from Willow, the contents of the table bounces with his weight. Soon, the rest of the house joins them and they’re making idle conversation, complementing the food, and asking Willow about her plans. Juliet comes in just as she’s in the middle of explaining the Cash Gala to Uncle Lenny. Leif takes over so that Willow can properly address Juliet.

Her mouth dries almost instantly when she notes the v-neck top she’s wearing. She swallows a bit of orange juice and nods. “This seat is for you. Mer was sitting on the other side of me.” Willow points to Meredith’s egg-yolk streaked plate. “She wanted to clean up her apartment before we arrived, so she left. Plus, I still want to check-in with Sawyer.” Or Milfred, depending on if they’ve switched sides again. (She hopes they haven’t perfected their height swap charm. A small Sawyer was bad enough, but a tall Milfred? She shudders.) “Eat up, you’ll need the energy for a Sawyer visit.”

They eat until they’re absolutely stuffed. Tita Barbie keeps piling more food onto their plates each time they get a little bit too empty. It’s a near endless back and forth of insisting they’re full before her aunt lets up, but eventually she listens and sits down. Only to get back up when she learns that they’re going to see Sawyer, who she has never met, and starts fixing Sawyer a heaping plate.

Her grandmas make less of a fuss when they’re ready to go and leave them with small packages. Grandma Elva gifts Juliet a bundle of thirteen elf arrows that she refers to as singers. They’re made of a thin lightweight metal making them seem almost needlelike. According to Elva, they cut through the air so fast that they sing, hence the name. She also lets Juliet know that they’re particularly great for knocking opponents off balance with the noise they make. “Let’s practice when you return.” She also thanks Juliet for keeping her company last night.

Though Willow isn’t expecting anything, Grandma Juniper surprises her with a notebook where she’s taken care to finally write down some of the family’s healing traditions and practices. Only some, because there are certain techniques that must be passed down orally. “I’ll teach you more when you’ve mastered that notebook. Though I doubt that will take you that long, my little scholar.” She then gives Juliet an affectionately stern look that says, “Stay out of trouble, missy.”

Of course, the grandmas don’t let them leave without forehead kisses, “for protection.” Leif helps them load up the car (and “accidentally” leaves his army multi-tool conveniently on Juliet’s seat) and they’re finally off, Willow steering her mighty mechanical beast steed to the university.

At the university, they take way too many stairs down to the basement (Willow doesn’t trust the creaky elevator) and are immediately hit by a wall of thick sparkly swamp-colored smoke when they reach the last level. Whistling explosions, like fireworks, echo off the walls. Something loud and lumbering groans, followed by a wet splat. And all of this would be alarming if it weren’t for a well practiced lightning cackle that mixes with all the chaos. “The not bees have escaped,” Milfred coughs. “Come back later for your exams!”

Several questions flit through Willow’s mind, but all she can do is pinch the bridge of her nose. “As much as I’d like to pretend we’re students and take the out, we should probably help her with the not bees.”

 

[ellarose]

"Whew, those not bees." Millicent shakes her head, slightly winded as she finally manages to slam the lid on the jar containing those ungodly 'not bees'. "I tell you."

"Tell us what...?" Juliet leans against the wall, out of breath. She glances up at Millie, waiting for the witch of the wood (lab, currently) to 'tell her'-- but she says nothing to follow that statement. She only shrugs. Juliet doesn't understand it, but the witch is constantly saying strange things. It's not that unusual. "Whatever." (Did she use that one right?) She then turns to face Willow, who is also trying to catch her breath at her side, and gently picks a fleck of the not bees orange goo out of her curls. What a doozy. Thank goodness that's over.

Millicent tosses the jar of not bees into the air, claps her hands twice, and it poofs itself to the top of one of the nearby shelves... she's so flippant in the aftermath of their struggle that it almost makes Juliet cringe. Goodness gracious. That careless handling is exactly how the not bees find their openings to escape! Millie revels in the chaos, though, and Juliet would not be surprised if the witch of the lab purposefully released the not bees to have an eventful morning. She gets bored when she's lonely, which is often, and revels in creating her own problems to solve. That sound of that classic lightning laughter is indicative of shenanigans.

As Juliet recovers from the not bees incident, she's ultimately glad she's still having fun. Much has changed recently, but Millie is still Millie. She doesn't take the world too seriously. It'd certainly be interesting to see the world through her eyes, to be that carefree... though she knows better than to voice this passing curiosity aloud. Knowing the witch, she'd find some way to make that happen. She would not be able to cope, being as short and scrawny as Millie is... nor would she be able to cope, thinking about the sorts of things the witch of the wood might do while occupying her body.

"Ah, yes. Allow me to greet you properly... your highness." Millie sweeps herself down into an elegant bow before Juliet. Then she takes a rolled up scroll from the desk and swats the archer over the head with it. "Why didn't you tell me you were a princess!?" She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "To think all this time I've kept two royals under my roof! Of course, my Jeffery Von Willgans knew it all along. I should have listened to them." The witch drapes herself across the desk, knocking over paper and clutter as she does so, and clutches her chest dramatically. The possum (not a cat) remains unseen, but they hiss from somewhere nearby.

"...What are you talking about?" Juliet furrows her brow. She and Grace tilt their heads in unison as Millie throws the scroll. With the snap of her fingers it unfurls before them and the headline explains it all. Well, sort of. "Lost princess reveals herself..." She blinks once. Twice. Then she inches back as if the paper bit her. Alongside the story, there's a drawing in ink of Grace with wings. "Wait, what? I don't understand."

"It's your potential, Juliet!" Millie sighs as if it's obvious. She conducts the scroll to roll itself back up with the wag of her finger and then directs it to gently hit Juliet in the chest, right over her heart. "They're all beginning to see it now. Regardless of whether or not you're actually a princess... this is real bad. A real shit bananas situation, if you will. Your beloved witch doctor advises at least a month away from Folklore. For your health."

Juliet's still struggling to wrap her mind around the headline, the conclusions the people have drawn... how fast the narrative surrounding her changes. (Just like the weather.) Is there any amount of truth to it? Well... she doesn't even know. And what is shit bananas? (Mixing any food with shit... it's an unpleasant prospect to be sure.)

"I mean it, missy." Millicent continues, lifting herself up from the table and lifting her hands to her hips. With the way her own brow crinkles, it's clear that she's not quite so carefree as Juliet might have thought before. (She's worried. She doesn't say it outright, but it's there. Just like that time when...) "The creeps are all coming out of the woodworks. They'll be coming for you-- more than ever before now that this story is circulating."

Millicent doesn't need to elaborate-- and thankfully, she doesn't. She's talking about people like Sefarina, like Brooks, and...

"...I should also mention that King Cayman's hunting you, too." Millie adds. Juliet presses her eyes shut tight and sighs. What a headache. Or a clusterfuck, as the cool kids in Evermore would say. "Nice headshot, by the way. You got him real good." She nods sagely. "But yeah, he's pretty angry about that."

"...I should think so." Juliet muses. She tries to shake the news she just received from her shoulders, tugging gently at Scaramouch around her neck. "You needn't fuss over me. I meant to stay in Evermore for a while anyway. There is much to be done here."

"Murders to investigate?" Millie raises a brow. Somehow, the witch of the wood manages to stare right through the archer. "...I've heard. Are you sure you know what you're doing, Juliet?"

"Of course I do." Juliet insists. (Does she really, though?)

***​

Millicent goes on to update them on everything that's happened in Folklore since their escape. The queen's recent decree that Princess Elise is to marry whoever it is who brings her home, how Prince Devlin discovered Flynn's letter among their things (and how Jeffery Von Willgans valiantly stole it back like the 'cat burglar' they are), and Flynn's decision to leave her cottage to travel across the wood and kingdoms to Princess Elise. Millie then reveals that she came to the lab because she very much dislikes goodbyes. Even if she stubbornly insists she has not grown even the slightest bit fond of that lovesick Flynn Everson throughout the duration of his stay.

She then shoos Juliet away, requesting that the archer sort through the Evermorian 'travel snacks' that Sawyer left in the closet for them. the witch of the wood approaches her fellow sorceress and favorite dragon. She reveals another scroll to her-- this one covering 'the witch who kidnapped two princesses'. The narrative paints Willow James in a way that is so very unlike Willow James that it's almost comedic. However, it's not quite so funny when one considers that there are people in Amoria and all across the kingdoms who will read such gossip and wholeheartedly believe in it.

"It seems we're in the same club, Willow James. From one caster to another, I must advise you to keep your biscuits buttered." Millicent nods as if there is a deep mutual understanding between them. (Does her advice make any sense? Who knows. If Juliet were there to hear it, she would likely consider it another magic thing.) She nods thoughtfully. The sparks in her amber eyes are prideful on Willow's behalf. "Wear it like a badge of honor. You know you're a force to be reckoned with once they've started writing stories about you in Folklore."

The witch then turns to the dragon, whose face she affectionately cups in her hands. Of course she has not forgotten about Lucky!

"A scroll has been dedicated to you as well, Lucifer!" Millie reveals the last scroll-- one with a rather beautiful but terrifying pen and ink illustration of Lucky toppling the princess tower. "Simply majestic. Excellent work. Admittedly, you are the one I am the least concerned about-- for you are so wise and fearsome. I'm trusting you to take care of them both." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I must admit, the portrait I've painted of you rivals this one in spades. Would you like to see it?"

Millie skips across the lap, gesturing a canvas covered in a large white sheet. She pulls it off to unveil Lucifer's grand moment in Folklore-- the brushstrokes nearly photorealistic in their accuracy, detailing the tower bricks and dragon scales with startling detail. It certainly encapsulates the dragon's fierceness in that moment. She grins, openly proud of her work even before receiving validation for it (yeah, she knows she's good) and proceeds to offer Willow a smaller sized version of the portrait to keep in her wallet as requested.

"I will continue to paint the small portraits of Lucifer." Millie tilts her head curiously as Willow takes out her 'wallet'. "To be honest, I always thought those things were meant for faeries and wives." She shakes her head. "No matter. I must ask a favor of you in return... you have already been most vigilant, but please continue to watch over Juliet." She debates saying more, glancing towards the closet she sent Juliet off to investigate. (She'll be in there for a while-- she takes food so seriously.) "Those murders are..." The witch crinkles her nose. (Millicent knows better than to divulge the details of her friend's stories, knowing too well how she feels about that. But there are some things that Juliet just won't say. Things she needs to say, especially to Willow. Especially now.) "Her heart's been in danger before... and not in a poetic way, if you catch my driftwood."

 

[starboob]

The ordeal with the not bees is exhausting enough that Willow finds herself wanting to curl up into a tiny ball and take a long nap underneath her desk. (It does, indeed, have a napping station. A gift from Sawyer for National Sleepyhead Day.) Then when Milfred relays all that is happening in Folklore, she is tempted to call it a day altogether and try again tomorrow. Especially considering the other’s concern. The implications of someone like the supernal eater of souls being troubled is enough to send Willow’s heart into a twisting panic.

She rubs her forehead as a small headache presses against her skull, staring out over the glade. (After everything—from the not bees to the news—Willow needed some air.) The trio all linger around Willow’s mechanical beast. Willow and Juliet sit on the hood while Milfred takes to the roof. It’s the recluse’s first time out in public and, in hindsight, she should have taken better care to warn her about what it would be like. Especially after everything with Juliet. But in her distracted state, she mistakenly assumed nothing could go wrong if they just took a leisurely jaunt through campus. ...Milfred ended up scaring off three groups of prospective students and their families from considering King University as their dream school, no doubt.

Since then, however, Milfred has calmed down considerably and now observes a group of students tossing sparks back and forth between each other. She imagines it must be odd for the Folklorian caster to see magic used so openly and without consequence. ‘If they’re labeling me as an evil sorceress, how am I going to change things for Millie and the others?’

Willow looks over to Juliet for comfort, knowing that they’re both in this together. Juliet will defend her. She always has. Of course, her companion seems completely oblivious to her unease, far more preoccupied with snacks she collected from the closet. (Tiger Lily Billy must have restocked recently. What a helpful little racoon.) Whenever Juliet finds a snack she does not rate 'five out of five stars,' Lucky opens their mouth as if they are a trash receptacle—they even eat the wrappers. Willow smiles.

Though it’s a short lived thing, once more recalling the way Milfred challenged Juliet when the murders were brought up. How she asked the heroine to keep her heart safe—extra safe. Now she wonder if she’ll be enough. Though she is reasonably certain she could summon another storm or at least the winds, will she be fast enough this time? And should they really be going to the gala when Kinsley Prescot is prime suspect number one (according to Meredith)?

But it’s not like they have much of a choice. Dorothea will be there and they need to protect her; they need to get her out of Evermore—assuming she even wants to leave. ‘Why was she adamant on staying? She's always wanted to leave. Leaving could protect Jovi.’ She bites her lip, worries piling on top of worries until she understands why the Mountain god ripped out his heart.

Sensing Willow’s worries, Lucky sidles over to her and noses her palm for encouraging head rubs. (Everyone knows petting a dragon makes everything better!) She smiles at her companion, obliging them and then ending with a kiss right between their eyes.

“Hey, Milfred?” Willow peers up at the other caster, scooping up Lucky and hugging them close to her chest. Milfred’s knees are bunched up, held against her chest, as she gazes longing at the other casters. Even the locals who walk through campus cast so cavalierly, without second thought or an ounce of hesitation. “How long are you planning to stay in Elsewhere?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Milfred sighs wistfully. She stretches her legs out over the windshield and sets her palms back to rest. “Jeffery Von Willigans has some stately matters to take care of—you can take the cat from the kingdom, but the kingdom does not just leave the cat. Matters of succession and such are becoming dire now that their grunkle is starting to lose their wit. The citizen are just begging my dear Jeffery Von Willigans to return.” She blows out a raspberry, clearly exhausted by all the drama in her not cat’s kingdom. “Why? Aside from the sky, what is up? I have heard many a student utter these words, have I used them correctly?”

“Yes.” Mostly, anyway. “I was thinking, if you haven’t had any breakthroughs with the scissors, there are some people here,” Willow gestures around the university, “who might be able to help. I wouldn’t go to just anyone, but my mentor—”

“Carmilla? Lovely woman. Impressively tall.” Milfred nods then squints across the glade. Right there, from the far side of it, a statuesque woman strides towards them. The movement is so graceful that it borders on unnatural; it’s like she’s skating over air. She carries a large midnight dark parasol that keeps every inch of her from the sun and a large black cat follows closely at her heels. “She is coming over to reprimand you right now. Soyfred warned of this likelihood if I were to leave the lab with you two. How delightful! I have always wanted to meet a vampire.”

Willow wheezes when she flips around and sees her mentor only a few yards away. Lucky shrinks down and camouflages against Willow’s clothes, hiding. “Doctor—professor—”

“Carmilla. Willow, how many times must I insist that you use my name?” She inclines her head to greet the others. (Even if Milfred were to stand on top of her car right now, they would barely be eye level.) Her parasol casts a shadow over them and while the shade would have always taken away the sun’s warmth, Carmilla’s presence drops the temperature to near freezing. Frost starts to creep over the ground. “You have missed our last three appointments and have not returned my calls, Willow James. Is something the matter?”

“Oh…” Willow shifts awkwardly. She hasn’t even thought about her dissertation since her second day in Folklore, probably. “I… I was thinking of taking the summer off from writing. Something personal came up, you see—”

“Please, spare the lie. I am older than both your grandmothers combined.” She holds up her hand. Milfred marvels at her sharp pointed nails. “I sensed you were distracted towards the end of last term, what with all those thread snapping reports. Then I heard a rumor from Copernicus that you were gallivanting with an other sider.” Her maroon eyes cut over to Juliet and Milfred. (Milfred is still in awe.) “I expect more from you, Willow James. You are my protégé.”

“The travel is related to my research—I know my datasets are fine, but with those snappings and to be the most current—” Carmilla’s brow lifts, insisting the young sorceress get to the point. “I’m close to a major breakthrough on what’s going on with Love. I can feel it. My colleagues, Juliet and Mil…fred are helping me. And, yes, they are from Folklore.”

The professor considers this, eyeing her pupil and the Folklorians carefully. Then her gaze shifts the passersby, perhaps understanding Willow's hesitancies with speaking freely on the subject. Without warning, she snaps her fingers, teleporting the group to her lab. "Well?"

“We came across this magic capable of severing threads, prof—Carmilla.”

At this, the ancient vampire leans back, her expression wide. Willow’s eyes glimmer. She barely withholds her smile. (It’s rare something new is ever brought to Carmilla, being as old as she is.) “That’s impossible—such malevolent magic cannot exist. You best have evidence of this finding.”

 

[ellarose]

Millicent, the one currently in possession of said evidence, is already distracted with her new environment. (While she is certainly accustomed to snapping herself in and out of the rooms of her cottage, it hasn't been since before her dear old mumsy perished that someone else has snapped her into a room. Marvelous. She is in excellent company indeed.) Especially when she marvels at the lab they've been whisked into. While her own methods of organization (if one can even call them organization) are vastly different from the way Carmilla keeps her lab, the witch of the wood can appreciate the way she keeps her collection organized by color and specimen.

"Fascinating..." Millie peers into a violet crystal ball, grinning lopsidedly at the funny way it warps her reflection. Moments later, she's skipping over to the rows of mason jars lining the shelves. Particularly, the assortments of fungi.

"Cortenarious archeri!" The little witch squeaks as if she's just been reunited with a long lost friend. She presses both of her hands over her chest in attempt to hold her heart still. (This effort is futile.) "You sweet, slimy, dangerously poisonous child." Before anything can be said or done to stop her, Millicent is already dashing to the other side of the lab to observe the rest. She cannot be stopped. Millie... gets a certain type of way about mushrooms. (To her, they're the gods of the wood. They wear hats. Some turn blue when they're cut or glow in the dark.) While the mushrooms of Folklore's wood are particularly dazzling and magical, she also has room in her heart for Evermore's variety. In fact, they're especially fascinating simply because of the fact that there are some she's yet to meet. There is one row, however, that she frowns at. She crosses her arms over her chest, sticking out her lower lip. "...This will not do. These poor babies are sick." She laments. "An effect of the mist, perhaps?"

Juliet tilts her head to the side. They don't look sick to her... but then again, she's not exactly a mushroom enthusiast. Not that she's entirely clueless on the subject. She knows Folklorian mushrooms quite well-- it's essential to know which are edible and which are poisonous to survive out in the wood.

"...That's correct. You knew just by looking at them?" Carmilla asks. While her tone doesn't betray any curiosity, she does level her serious gaze with Millie. The vampire is perceptive enough to let this odd Folklorian to roam about as she pleases, to get these curiosities out of her system before she addresses her question. (...It'd be more trouble to try and stop her, anyway. Millicent's love for mushrooms radiates off of her in waves. It's almost infectious.) "How?"

Millie blinks once, her amber eyes flickering unnaturally as she turns to face the other woman. (The impressively tall woman. With impressively sharp nails.) She stares at her as if she cannot believe she is actually being addressed and noticed. By Carmilla-- an impressively tall woman with impressively sharp nails no less. Is she dreaming? No... probably not. Millicent's dreams are all distinctly grape flavored.

It's so unusual to see Millie this perplexed, so unusual to see her interact with someone neither of them knows, that Juliet has to fight the urge to stand in front of the witch of the wood to protect her from the vampire's discerning gaze. Millicent would undoubtedly take offense if she thought she was in need of any sort of protection... especially around a person who impresses her as much as this Carmilla. (Willow seems quite in awe of her as well... if a little anxious, given the way she stumbles over her words.)

Carmilla taps her long nails against the countertop, waiting for an answer.

"Perhaps if you tell me the secret to your tallness, I will divulge the secrets of my eyes." Millicent supplies with an innocent shrug. While she does indeed find the vampire lovely and fascinating, she will not open the pages of her mysterious tomes to just anyone. She frowns at the sick mushrooms. "I can see them. I can see that they've seen much suffering. Poor babies."

"The flora in Folklore has been behaving strangely as well." Juliet muses. She tenses imperceptibly when Carmilla's big black cat walks closer to them. "Willow and I struggled to get past the lullaby lilacs and sundews near Nightmare's Pass." There was also the roses during the tournament-- though those were tampered with by the royals and their blood, according to the apothecary.

"So there's been a correlation?" Carmilla raises an eyebrow at Willow. It's hard to gauge how much of this she believes-- it seems she'll need more proof before she can form a solid opinion. "Have you been writing about your findings, Willow?" She shakes her head. "And as I said before..."

"Tada! Evidence!" Millicent snaps her fingers. Mismatched floral gloves appear on her hands before she brandishes the hexed scissors Juliet and Willow brought back from the Midnight Mountains. Juliet inches away. (Just the energy that radiates off of them is nauseating. Malevolent.) "Unfortunately, I don't think it'd be very wise to give you a demonstration of how the hexed scissors work here and now. I do not wish to cut Willow and Juliet's thread." She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "The source of the scissors have eluded me thus far... sometimes my findings guide me to Folklore's soil." She aims the scissors at Juliet and then swiftly swivels them to Willow. "Sometimes they point over yonder towards Evermore." Lastly, she aims the sharp end of the scissors at the space between the two of them. "Perhaps they come from somewhere in between?" She shakes her head sagely. "I must make many more soups before I am entirely certain of their origins."

 

[starboob]

Everything changes when Millie brings out the hexed scissors. All nine and half feet of Carmilla stiffens. Even her companion jumps backwards, back arched and hiding behind the vampire. Antares hisses, scratching in the direction of scissors. While Willow’s reaction isn’t as extreme, she does shift, positioning herself defensively in front of the wave of their thread. It might not do much, but she’ll be damned before she lets anything happen to it. Even in the hex girl’s hands, she’s protective, not risking any accidents. (The creature in the woods hadn’t been able to cut through their thread, but that doesn’t mean Willow wants to test it against every sharp object.)

“Put those away. Now.” Carmilla’s tone is severe, leaving no room for argument. Her radius of frost widens in an almost protective fashion. (Willow has never seen it do that, though she supposes she’s never seen Carmilla threatened.) The maroon of her eyes hardens. It’s enough to cause carefree Milfred to shrink, though she listens and does as the vampire says without protest or hesitation.

The professor relaxes once the scissors have disappeared, the tension visibly melting from her shoulders as does the frost when it shrinks back. Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary has just happened, she gathers up her ink black hair, streaked with silver along the front, and knots it into a bun; all business. “I have not felt will that malicious in centuries.” Carmilla’s sharp nails graze over the onyx stone on her chest. Then she pulls it off, transforming it into her silver staff; the onyx stone sits at the top with an almost imperceptible glow to it.

“I apologize for being harsh.” It is rare that the ancient vampire ever has reason to apologize, but the other sider is pointedly distracting herself with her impressive collection of fungi. Millie’s eyes subtly flicker over to the vampire, turning just a bit to face her again. “It is just that the last time I was in the presence of a will as powerful as the one imbued in those scissors, Evermore was at war.”

“Anyway,” Carmilla continues, her tone shifting to something light. “My height comes from genetics as I imagine yours does as well.” (Did… Did Carmilla le Roux seriously just roast Millie’s family line? Willow stares in wide eyed shock. Has her mentor always been this cool?) Carmilla shrugs, nonchalant and deadpan as ever. The quip is enough for Millie to turn fully back to face the impressively tall and sharp vampire, fire under the bridge and all. “I simply ask for warning the next time you bring out those scissors. Now, come hither; all of you.”

She gestures for all of them to stand at her side to clear space at the center of her high tower laboratory. She stamps her staff once over the stone floor. The violet crystal ball flies from its place and stops at the center, hovering in midair. Then it grows to be about half the size of Willow. “Just before, there had been mention of a possible correlation between the sister realms? Let us start there.”

Willow nods and summons her notebook, laying it flat in midair. She leafs through it, chewing on her lip as she tries to decide what and how much to share. It’s not that she has anything to hide from Carmilla, but the researcher values hard evidence. More than that, if she’s going to implicate a King, she’ll need something so tangible it cannot be denied or doubted. (Not that her memory betrays, but the Kings are a powerful wizarding family and political dynasty. It will take more than just evidence to bring them down.) “The lakes here, they’re bleeding.” Willow’s eyes flash, calling up the memory of Mirror Lake and imposing it onto the crystal ball. “Just before we left Folklore, the seas there bled and remained red when we left.”

She continues to go through the parallels with some help from Juliet, each new addition adding itself around the crystal ball. Just as with her omissions of Griffith and Sabrina, she leaves out anything to do with Dorothea and her hollow eyes. She does, however, make mention of Sawyer’s information on sudden void disease. “Or Hollowhearts, if you prefer. They seem to complement the Lightless.”

Carmilla hums, long and thoughtful. Her eyes dance across the crystal full of evidence, Willow’s memories playing out on them in sharp detail. “And what of that?” She taps her talon against the encounter of that be-antlered entity at Mirror Lake. Unlike the photographs that blurred out the creature, her memory has retained all of the details. “What do you make of it?” She asks the question, but it seems she has an idea already and seeks to challenge her pupil.

Willow rocks her head from side to side. “The originator of the scissors?”

The professor doesn’t respond and instead turns to the hex girl. (She will not be referring to her as that inane nickname she knows her pupil devised.) Millie has since wandered back to the fungi collection, whispering sweet nothings to them while the others lay out all the pieces to this puzzle. She is still paying attention, but most of this she already knows and she has not yet introduced herself to all these new fungi friends. However, when she feels Carmilla’s eyes on her, she returns to the semi-circle, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. (Perhaps trying to make herself taller in front of such an impressively tall woman. Sharpness will be easy enough to accomplished, but height has simply eluded the witch of the wood.) “Yes’m?”

“If you please.” Carmilla says no more than this. The hex girl understands anyway and resummons the scissors, as well as her mismatched gardening gloves. She twirls them around her finger with a grin. Carmilla continues, “You mentioned your research has indicated both Folklore and Evermore, or someplace in between as the origin.”

“Indeed.” Millie nods sagely, then holds the scissors up like a gun, pointing them between Juliet and Willow. Willow stiffens and steps protectively in front of their thread. “If that handsome devil of an entity is the originator, this explains just about everything wrong with the realms. Or at least nine and three quarters percent and that may just be enough to be the straw that breaks the butterfly flap.”

If the oddism confuses the ancient vampire, she does not make it known. Rather, she nods in agreement. (Willow is not convinced she understands. Is her mentor really this cool?) “Though the likeness and intention are undeniably similar, we cannot draw any conclusions.” Her hand waves over the crystal ball, enlarging the image of the creature. The muscle in her jaw twitches as she stares it down, like it’s familiar to her. Just as suddenly, she tears her gaze away, landing on the heroines as distraction. “Should you face this being again, I encourage you, collect a sample; anything from a chipped antler to a drop of its shadow. From there we may analyze.” Lastly and finally, she turns to Millie. "Sawyer soon has to come back, as I understand it, but when you return, do come find me. It has been far too long since I've had Folklorian sorceress to banter with."

 

[ellarose]

The train will be enormous. The train will scream very loudly. The train is not our enemy, Juliet August.

Juliet repeats Willow's words in her head like mantra as the sorceress drives them off towards the train station. They are sent off with a pouch of new evidence gathering tools from Carmilla for the sake of 'research', even though Juliet is fairly certain Willow has at least forty six vials left in that devouring bag of hers. They've also said their goodbyes to Millicent. The witch covered her ears-- she really does hate goodbyes. She did not relent until Lucky gave her an affectionate snuggle. Now they're headed for You York. It's a city, from what Juliet has gathered. It's also noisy... and filled with people who will, occasionally, scream very loudly. Still, the archer has visited many bustling Folklorian cities before. It's not as though she is entirely unaccustomed to bustling crowds. She will be... fine. It is also the place where the murders have been most prevalent. But she will be fine.

Juliet cannot help but wish to prove Millicent wrong. The witch had smirked and laughed creepily under her breath like a mischievous troll under a bridge. "You best keep an eye on her, Willow. She's going to try to fight everything."

Considering the knife incident yesterday... Juliet must do her best. She mustn't cause Willow any more trouble. Not when her companion already has so much on her mind in regards to Dorothea, the cult, the murders, Meredith involving herself in their investigation. Though the archer considers leaving her knife behind altogether-- or at the very least moving it from her pocket and into her bag-- she stops herself from doing so. With the image of the haunting entity refreshed in her mind, she'd rather be prepared for anything.

The sky is turning gray. A few sporadic drops of rain plunk down against the windshield. Juliet watches with a spark of wonder in her brown eyes as the rain falls even harder. (The sound against the roof of the mechanical be-- car-- is rather soothing.) She glances out the window at the droplets cascading down-- each moving at their own pace, with their own patterns. She picks two of the raindrops to race... watching as the slower one begins devouring other raindrops, quickly closing the distance and becoming the victor. When she was confined to her room in the August house on rainy days, this was one of her favorite pastimes. Cars might be evil, but the rain on their windows is beautiful.

"Do you ever..." Juliet starts, her voice thoughtful and quiet. She lapses into a bashful silence. (It's silly, anyway.) This is the moment that she notices that their mechanical be-- car-- is parked before a faintly glowing sign. It's covered in brightly colored numbered lists and photographs of food. The archer turns to look at it directly, her brown eyes growing even wider. "What's this...?"

Willow then teaches Juliet about drive thrus. A place where one guides their mechanical beast around an establishment that makes food and picks it up from a window. She mentions it'll be cheaper here than buying the expensive train food for lunch and dinner both. (Plus, she mentions wanting to give Juliet her first drive thru experience while they have the opportunity.) It's a very practical decision.

Juliet's 'chicken nuggets' disappear very quickly. (Chicken nuggets are a five out of five stars.) Their size makes them easy to eat in exactly two bites. Or one, she's realized, if she's determined enough for it. They finish their food in the parking lot of the train station, waiting for the rain to calm down a bit before they head inside.

Perhaps due to the upcoming gala, the station is particularly crowded with people dashing back and forth with armfuls of luggage. A mother raises her voice as she struggles to keep her unruly children in line, an unfortunate man trips and spills his coffee all over an unsuspecting lady, and teen with raspberry blue hair whooshes by on a rolling plank. (A man in a uniform shakes his fist in the air, shouting and chasing after her.) Willow guides Juliet through the crowds and towards the area where they're meant to purchase their tickets.

"Two tickets to You York? All right." The woman nods, popping her bubblegum. "You got here just in the nick of time. First, I'll need to see your IDs."

Juliet notices Willow tense at her side. IDs. Identification? Ah. Juliet... doesn't have that, does she? Oh. But she does have--

"Will this suffice?" Juliet asks, showing the woman the August family seal. It gleams with golden light, temporarily dazzling the woman behind the desk. Once she recovers from the initial effect, though, she squints confusedly. She frowns and shakes her head slowly.

"That's very pretty, but... no." The woman remains firm on the subject. "You need identification to ride."

Juliet bites her lower lip uncertainly. (Here she is, already causing trouble for Willow. They need to make it to You York.) She tugs gently at Willow's sleeve, guiding her slightly away from the woman at the desk so she doesn't hear them. It seems unwise to inform the woman that she's from Folklore, considering the target that's been on their backs since the faire.

"We don't have time for this, do we?" Juliet whispers. "Purchase your ticket... I'll find a way to sneak onto the train."

 

[starboob]

Before Juliet is allowed to “go back for her ID,” Willow makes her recite the mantra. (“The train will be enormous. The train will scream very loudly. The train is not our enemy, Juliet August.”) She has her do it twice for good measure. While she considers also asking for Juliet’s pocket knife, she decides to trust the survivalist, knowing that it does give her a sense of control over her safety. Even so, she has Lucky go along with Juliet. And for a moment, Gracie seems torn between staying with Willow and going along with Juliet. She looks between the two heroines, one paw up as she falters between them. But then a particularly rowdy group of teenagers bumps past them and the fox, curls around Juliet’s calves, deciding to accompany her companion. It’s sweet that she even considered it and entirely unexpected.

“Ahem.” The ticket agent loudly clears her throat to get Willow’s attention after Juliet has left. “You’re holding up the line. Are you going to purchase your ticket, miss?”

The sorceress jumps and blushes, spinning back around; she apologizes profusely to everyone, those behind her and the agent, fumbling with her wallet as she does so and also over explaining the cover story. (This woman is not paid enough to care.) Once she has the ticket secured, she starts to thank the woman— “Next!”

Ah, right. Holding up the line. With her face furiously red, heart thumping, she sweeps up their bags and makes her way over to the turnstile. Once she’s fed the ticket to the machine, it lights up green and opens a convenient gateway to platform seven. The emerald train is already waiting for her and hundreds of other passengers who are all pushing and shoving to board. ‘Put on your Meredith face.’

This is supposed to mean that she shoves past others and asserts herself as she makes her way onto the double decker. But in true Willow James fashion, she apologizes profusely, trips too many times to count, and allows at least three parties to take the seats she had been going for once she miraculously manages to weave her way through the crowd. Even so, her kindness is awarded when she finds an empty two person table on the upper deck. She struggles to put their bags in the overhead rack and, just as she’s about to go for the magical assist, her kindness comes back to her again in the form of a nice man wearing aviator shades. He catches her bag before it can fall over and starts shoving it onto the overhead rack. “Thank you, sir. You can just—yeah, that’s good.”

“No problem, lil lady.” He tips his hat then saunters off towards the back of the train car, taking the aisle seat diagonal from her. While he faces the back of Willow’s curly head now, he will eventually face Juliet when she makes her way aboard.

Willow is oblivious to this watching man. To her, he is only a kind stranger, the one who helped her with her bags. The heroine is not alarmed at all, instead resting her elbow on the table with her chin in her palm, staring at the sea of people outside. She bites her lip. ‘I hope Juliet is okay…’ She has to remind herself that Lucky is with her; Lucky will protect the Folklorian visitors should anything happen. Not that she thinks anything will happen. It’s broad daylight. It’s crowded. No one is that bold. (But wasn’t Prince Devlin?)

A man in a pinstripe suit takes the seat right behind Willow, his back facing hers. He sits across from a woman in a beige trench coat. They nod subtly to each other; Aviator Glasses and Pinstripes also exchange nods. All three of these strangers have shadows that are too dark to be natural. This goes unnoticed by the sorceress who is still too preoccupied thinking about her companion.

The train doors close and Juliet is still not aboard. Or she is at least not in Willow’s car. A moment of panic grips her, but then she relaxes, reminding herself that this is Juliet August. She slipped past armed security the last time they were here. If she is not already on board, she will be, and she will find Willow James. Willow James does not need to worry.

And, just for good measure, she distracts herself with her train ticket, creating a duplication for Juliet. Technically, this is illegal. Technically, they could be fined $50, but Willow has known of this trick and used it for longer than she would like to admit. Her father taught it to her. Though, at the time, he promised her it was completely fine, but what he meant was that it was completely fine so long as they never got caught. She hasn’t pulled this stunt since figured out the truth and while she promised herself she wouldn’t ever be like him, this is just insurance in case a ticket checker does come by. It’s not worth the trouble of explaining Juliet’s situation and why they weren’t able to lawfully purchase a ticket. Still, guilt worms in her stomach. This is illegal and Willow James does not want to be a criminal.

The train pulls out of the station, slowly. Rain hits the window and streaks across it as the speed slowly picks up. Willow stares down at the two tickets, then out the rain streaked windows. Any second now and her Juliet will be here.

 

[ellarose]

"Hey!" A voice shouts from below. A shrill whistle rings out. "Hooligans! You're not supposed to be here! Stop that! Stop that right now!"

Juliet tenses, flattening herself down against the roof of the train. She holds her breath as rain pelts her from above. She can tell by the look on Lucky's face that the dragon wants to offer their wing for her to use for an umbrella if not for the fact that such a gesture would increase their likelihood of getting caught. (Provided they aren't getting caught right now.) When she hears the mischievous laughter that follows the threats, though, she releases the breath she'd been holding. When things quiet down, she allows herself to peek over the side of the train and notices an officer chasing the unruly teens that were running through the station before.

When they disappear, Juliet glances at the place they were gathered before. (The hooligans.) They left some graffiti on the wall in red and pink paint that says 'Love Bites'. Above those words is a haphazard image of a broken heart with a snapped red string running through it. Her brow furrows as she studies it, mouthing the words, and then shakes her head. 'Focus. Get on the train.' The hooligans have left her with an opportunity. Anyone who might have otherwise caught her are preoccupied with chasing them off. 'Godspeed, hooligans. Thank you.'

The train truly is enormous... and it does scream very loudly. It groans and begins to move forward. Juliet nimbly climbs down the ladder leading to the caboose and slips in through the back door. With her heart pounding wildly in her chest in the aftermath of hearing the beast's cry, her hand instinctively goes to her knife pocket to make sure it's still there. Lucky James narrows their eyes at her, giving her the equivalent of the stern (cute) look she imagines Willow James might give her in this situation. 'No knives.' She moves her hand away from her knife pocket, purses her lips, and nods.

Juliet can do this. She vows to make it to Willow without creating knife incident number two.

Swiftly, Juliet sneaks from car to car. Whenever she senses someone nearby, she nimbly ducks towards any nooks and crannies she can squeeze herself into. Grace and Lucky shrink down, explore the cars ahead, and gives her the appropriate signals on whether or not it's safe for her to proceed.

Eventually, Juliet makes it to an empty coach filled with carts. They're all stacked with dirty dishes, likely from the patrons who chose to eat lunch on the train. She notices one platter with a basket full of crumbs... probably a sandwich. And beside it is... oh. Her brown eyes sparkle. Two fresh, uneaten pickles. Of course she picks them up. (They're free pickles. Juliet August will always take a free pickle.) The fact that these pickles are someone else's leftovers doesn't exactly occur to the archer-- and even if she knew, she probably wouldn't care. The size of the pickles are somewhat similar to the hilt of her knife, so it's something of a comfort to hold onto them. She polishes one off quickly and saves the other for Willow.

In one of the gangway connections, Juliet is nearly thrown off balance when the train turns. She almost grabs her knife. (Almost. She has still not caused knife incident number two.) Still, the archer takes it upon herself to add a fourth part to their mantra. 'The train will rumble and twist.' At last, she slips into a car filled with people moving back and forth. There are stations to order coffee and other refreshments in this coach. Once she makes it inside, she's able to blend in among the other passengers.

From here, Juliet focuses on searching for Willow. She tries not to stare when a mother confiscates her son's 'Game Boy' and informs him that he won't get it back until he gets along with his sister. It's a glowing box that makes noise-- it reminds her a little of the games at the pizza arcade. Only smaller. (She makes similar pauses for other items she doesn't entirely understand-- various shaped boxes and tiny berries connected to strings that people stuff inside their ears.) Though she's curious, she turns her gaze forward and continues on, following her thread.

Juliet is initially relieved upon finding Willow James's familiar face in this train full of strangers... but she immediately senses that there is something wrong with the coach she's in. (If not because of the shadows, it's because the other passengers eyes disappear completely behind their gleaming spectacles.) Lucky trills happily and immediately makes themself at home in Willow's lap. Grace sticks close to Juliet's calves as she stiffly walks further inside the coach, carefully sidestepping the too-dark shadows before she sinks down into the seat across from Willow.

"I brought you a pickle I found." Juliet nods, handing the pickle she swiped from the dish cart to Willow. (She was good and did not eat it. There were two pickles and two of them... it is only logical and right that she share her bounty.) Considering the other passengers, she doesn't mention how her sneaking went, although... "I did not stab the train... or cause any knife incidents." This is something to be proud of. Lucky trills to confirm her success in this endeavor.

"So..." Juliet glances cautiously around their coach, but doesn't let her gaze linger anywhere for too long. (Who knows where the eyes of their fellow passengers are looking? If they even have eyes at all... there is no way to tell behind their suspicious spectacles.) "Did you notice the pattern on the carpet?" It's just red velvet with golden swirls. But she needs Willow to look-- to confirm that the shadows truly are strange and not just a figment of her imagination. (It wouldn't be the first time.) "Peculiar, is it not?"

 

[starboob]

This is the danger car. Of course Willow James picks the danger car—she could have picked any place to sit and she chose the one with bright red bullseyes hovering around it. Naturally. Obviously. Because she’s Willow freaking James and she always—

Lucky gets up into her face and gives her one of their rare, hard looks. ‘Knock that off, missy.’

It’s scary, sometimes, how her companion can totally read her mind. Then again, they wouldn’t be her companion otherwise. She softens almost immediately and offers them a small smile. It doesn’t happen immediately, but she starts to counter those critics in her head, the ones that sound most like her father, reminding herself that those shady fellows (hehe) sat down after she did. And while she could start herself on a whole new spiral about her lack of constant vigilance, she decides to commit this mistake to memory and learn from it.

Her fists are still tightly wound over her thighs. But, eventually, she relaxes enough to lay them flat once she’s expelled enough shame from her system. (She really should have known better, after everything in Folklore. But Evermore is her home and it’s never felt unsafe until now.) She meets Juliet’s gaze, finally, and gives a subtle nod. ‘It’s not in your head, Juliet.’ (They’re lucky to have each other.) “The swirls are extra swirly today. Sometimes they do that.”

Juliet is right to suspect danger, because those curling shadows are unnatural, but it’s too soon to react just yet. With the enemies they made last time, it’s hard to resist rising to action, but that won’t do them any good if they’re wrong. Right now, they have to focus on losing them. It shouldn’t be hard with the train being as crowded as it is. And there are still three more stops until they cross the Lost Ocean and reach You York; that means more people and more opportunities to lose these goons. Including Aviator Shades who she had previously thought was a nice fellow. He even called her “lil lady” just like her father used to.

…That should have been a warning, actually. Mentally, she’s dragging her hands down her face.

But nevermind that. She’s beat herself up enough for one day and she—

Crunch, crunch, crunch. When Willow looks down to her lap, the cruncher is sitting right there eating her pickle! (Honestly, she’s mildly relieved Lucky got to it, because that pickle… Where the duck did Juliet even “find” it? Should she be concerned?) Lucky trills innocently, swirling their tongue over their maw. Their thievery gets rewarded with a head rub. “Ah, well I am full of dinosaurs anyway.” Chicken nuggets. These ones were not even remotely shaped like dinosaurs, but Clover tricked her once into believing that chicken nuggets were made from dinosaurs and that’s why they went extinct. Friggin’ Clover. “I appreciate you thinking of me, Juliet. And!” She offers a small applause, then magics a sheet of gold star stickers into her hand. She peels one off and reaches over the table to stick it on Juliet’s cheek. “For your efforts in preventing knife incident number two. Well done. I mean it.”

Willow flops back into her seat, crossing her arms over the table and drumming her fingers against it in a way that would get her reprimanded back at the Rhode Island house. However, her ill manners are with purpose. With each tap, she sends miniscule, imperceptible glyphs over the aisle lights. They brighten enough to get the shadows to curl back towards their casters, who are all stiff now.

Casually, she blows out a raspberry, pretending she hasn’t done anything. “It’s gonna take us three hours to get to You York.” Three hours to lose Aviator Shades, Pinstripes, and Trenchcoat. Three hours trapped on a train with them. “We should play a game.”

They play Crazy 8s until the next stop. But neither of them are able to really get into it. Willow has to nudge Juliet a few times for her turn and Juliet has to clarify the rules when Willow puts down the wrong card. It’s a relief when the train finally reaches the next station and gives them both something else to focus on.

As more passengers board and crowd the train, Willow searches for an easy excuse to slip away from their current seats. And it comes in the form of an elderly couple who are slowly making their way through the upper deck. Knowing they’re slowing up traffic, they take turns turning back to apologize to the others and thanking them for their patience. ‘Perfect.’

Willow makes eye contact with one of them, smiles, and rises from her seat, motioning for Juliet to do the same. Before the old gents can wave for her to sit down, she stops them. “It’s really alright, sirs. We were going to go explore the zoo car anyway.”

“Ah, you’re too kind. May the fates watch over you.” One of the gents glimmers at both of them as his partner helps ease him into his seat. Then the partner tips his hat, taking the other seat. “You ladies enjoy the zoo car. I hear it’s a jungle exhibit today.”

They’re off to the zoo car once Juliet has taken care of grabbing their bags, courtesy of her superior height (and nice arms). Though they head towards the zoo car and even pass through it, they do not stop. Willow breezes them through, ignoring the screaming children and stressed out parents, not at all leaving time for them to get too distracted. (She makes sure to check back on Juliet every now and again, just in case she gets caught up in the excitement.) The sorceress does not stop until they’re in the botanical car which is essentially a greenhouse.

It’s quieter here, but no less crowded than the zoo car. Willow weaves them through the crowds, seemingly unnecessarily at times, until they’re on the upper deck near the exit in case they need to make a swift getaway.

She leans against the railing in front of some desert cacti from Nowhere, catching her breath and letting her shoulder relax some when she confirms no one from the Shady Bunch is immediately behind them. “I don’t think we were followed, but we probably shouldn’t stay in one place for too long. We have two more stops before we’re in for the long haul.” She pauses then tilts her head. “How are you feeling, Juliet? If it’s too toasty toasty, we can always figure something else out.”

Like breaking a bajillion laws by flying Lucky into You York proper. For Juliet, she would.

 

[ellarose]

While the desert air is dry and hot, the train whips a motion-induced wind through their hair. Juliet pauses before she can get too preoccupied with watching the way Willow's bouncy dark curls swish around her face, scooping her cheek star onto the pad of her thumb and protectively placing it on the collar of the Pantera jacket. It will be safer there. (Upon contact with the Pantera it changes itself from a sticker to a new patch, joining the alien with the knife. They compliment each other quite well, actually, though she can't quite explain why that is.) The archer runs her fingers over the stitched edges of the star, perplexedly tilting her head to the side.

For a few seconds, Juliet listens to the sound of the train clattering against the tracks. The train is noisy. Willow asks her how she's feeling.

"They've yet to try anything thus far. Perhaps because the train is so crowded?" Juliet points out, joining Willow against the railing. She stares out at the sandy landscape, thinking about the different deserts she's traversed in Folklore. "It seems those Charming Street wankers are not powerful enough to make disastrous incidents disappear entirely... at least not after several people have witnessed them. That must be why they blamed Dorothea's incident on werewolves. We may fare better here with so many people to bear witness than we would if we tried to escape. Otherwise we'll isolate ourselves, and..." Flashes of Sabrina flood her mind, when she gave chase and essentially shot her and their companions down from the sky. "If they possess the means to chase after us, it will be much easier for them to dispose of us in the middle of the desert."

Perhaps Juliet is being extra cautious because this is Evermore, too. It's all so unfamiliar to her and she cannot navigate the same way she does in Folklore. Willow is prepared with her bag, of course... but building a reliance on such a thing can be dangerous, too. What happens if they misplace it? If it gets destroyed? Are they prepared for the situations they might find themselves in if their preparedness doesn't pay off? Perhaps she's overthinking it... but Juliet August is prone to running into such unexpected disasters.

"I am not sure what the deserts are like in Evermore... but in Folklore, they are quite brutal to travel through." Juliet mentions. Barren and hot, endless seas of sand with too few places to hide. Water and food nearly impossible to procure. Not to mention the desert ruffians and thieves who run amuck. "Should something happen to Lucky or Grace, we may end up in a toastier situation if we try to leave now." She shakes her head. Worst case scenario, they'll end up dead and buried in the sand, forgotten as Charming Street and their cult orchestrates their convenient disappearance. Or they'll end up injured and too far away from anyone who might be able to help them. (And then, inevitably, dead.) They could end up lost, traveling for days on end... and though they might make it through that scenario alive, they'd likely end up missing the gala altogether.

It had initially surprised Juliet to learn that the Augusts lived in the desert for a year before properly settling in Amoria and adopting her. Father was studying the terrain and wildlife there, investigating hidden caves and myths. (He still spends his days chasing them around. It's why he's always away. Although...) Mother admitted that their families would often share tents on outskirts of the desert while they were growing up. Mother and father's parents were very good friends. Lovers of adventure and history... it's how they met. It was a shock to learn, to say the least. Juliet often wonders when mother's love for adventure died. (Possibly with her parents... mother's and father's both died in the same accident.) Father continued their work after that. Investigating Folklore, creating new inventions with the resources he discovered.

Juliet brushes the thought aside. She does not wish to think about her adoptive family right now. While she's in Evermore, she'd like to think as little as she possibly can about Folklore. Millie prescribed time away and she presumes that includes taking a mental break from it as well.

"They've underestimated us. I don't think they weren't expecting us to notice them so soon." Juliet nods thoughtfully, considering the way they tensed when Willow cast a light that diminished their shadows. "Now that we have, they may be hoping that we'll get scared and run away." Those Charming Street people strike her as the sorts who use intimidation to get their way. (Many nobles are like this as well.) If people involved know Willow James, they may have a false image of her stuck in their heads... one that's based purely on the one who would duck away from ogres. If it didn't sink in when they bested their cult, it's plain to see that Willow James is stronger now than ever. If they stand their ground, they'll show that they're not going to cower away so easily. The members of the shady bunch haven't lifted a single finger yet.

"We may be able to blend into one of the crowded coaches without incident until we reach out destination. If that changes for any reason, we can meet back here and make our escape when we're closer to the city." A mischievous glint flashes in Juliet's brown eyes. "If that happens, Willow, we should make as much noise as we can... cause an incident so loud and dramatic that they can't make it go away. It's their wish to silence us, isn't it? If they're going to come after us, we should try and do everything we can to make their lives hell."

"We should also be cautious of anything we're served to drink or eat. We don't know how many people they control aboard this train." Juliet nods. (After that incident with Devlin... they need to be careful of any substances that might incapacitate them.) She also recognizes the importance of hearing Willow's perspective on what to do as well. She knows more about Evermore and Charming Street than she does, after all. "What do you make of all of this?"

That's when Juliet notices a peculiar shaped shadow slithering under the door in her peripheral, creeping towards their feet. She grips Willow's wrist, giving a light squeeze of warning as she discreetly inclines her head towards it. Careful. They're watching... maybe even eavesdropping.

 

[starboob]

Juliet is speaking like a hooligan and Willow is falling for her, willing to go in any direction her companion dictates so long as they are together. Her heart thump, thump, thumps with desire. A desire to impress and live up to her expectations. They aren’t so lofty or high that Willow cannot jump to attain them. Juliet wants to protect them. She is making suggestions that will keep them safe. Willow wants that, too.

Juliet is also coming to her as the resident expert on all things Evermore, so she has to be smart about this, even if she wants nothing more than to continue proving herself to her companion. (She already has and she doesn’t want Juliet to come to regret taking her under her wing.) “It is better for us to stay on the train,” Willow concedes, keeping careful watch of the shadow that sneaks between the crack in the doorway. She tries not to think about how warm Juliet’s hand is on her wrist and how it might feel if she were to trail it up her arm, over her shoulder, cup her jaw, and—

Ah, she needs to knock that off before she becomes an ogling mess. Maybe one of her mantras should be, ‘I will not objectify Juliet August.’

She clears her throat, forcing herself to look Juliet in the eye (her beautiful brown eyes that soak up the desert sun). “Did you know there’s also an ice cream car?” If her companion has been paying any attention to her habits, then she knows Willow James will not be hungry again for a few more hours. (Even if the ice cream stomach is a completely separate chamber.) Lifting her brow, she leans in conspiratorially. (The shadows croon forward, as much as they can.) “We always have to scream for ice cream.”

She says this mostly to signal her acknowledgment of Juliet’s plan. She leans back against the rail. They’ll be safe here, for now. For now, this is the brightest car.

It’s another five minutes to the next station and Willow starts a game of “I Spy.” When the train stops, Juliet is stuck on Willow’s, “I spy with my little eye, the best view.” (So far, she’s guessed Lucky, the desert, and some clouds.) More passengers board and filter through this car. A large knot of people comes through the gangway entrance nearest to them, providing them with the perfect cover to blend and, hopefully, lose the shadow.

They end up in a packed quiet car. Everyone’s crammed in like sardines, making it impossible to weasel through the crowd and into another car. Even Lucky starts to squirm, poking their head over the sea for an easy exit. The train lurches forward and Willow falls against Juliet, unprepared. Juliet, ever prepared, catches her and helps her stand up straight again. (She couldn’t be gayer.)

As the train starts to gain momentum, some start to weave their way out of this overcrowded car. A particularly rude businessman, who pushes and shoves his way through, creates a current for the heroines to follow.

A few cars down the knots of people have thinned enough that they have room to breathe. They don’t find seats, which Willow is fine with if it means it’ll be easier for them to make a sudden exit. Thus far, they haven’t spotted anyone from the Shady Bunch, nor have any shadows creeped unnaturally close to them. They relax into a game of thumb war, but it’s not much of a game. Juliet wins every round and Willow only keeps playing because it’s like they’re holding hands.

It’s all well and good until they pass through a tunnel. Everything goes dark. Willow stiffens, letting go of Juliet’s hand to grip her arm (her strong, protective arm). Lucky’s claws dig into her shoulder, either tense or as a reminder that they’re still there. ‘Where are the lights?’

She pulls Juliet closer, the only way she can signal that something is wrong. Lucky and Grace confirm this in growls and a few passengers loudly shush them (this is also a quiet car). Willow’s eyes flash, adjusting immediately to the dark and—

She jerks Juliet into her, pulling her flush against her body as she stifles a yip against her collar. Right behind Juliet, smiling with too much teeth, is Aviator Shades. He leans over Juliet’s shoulder and drawls out in a whisper, “Hey there, lil ladies.” Too close. Way too close. “Just passing through. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

(This would be an appropriate moment for knife incident number two. Willow has a gold star ready and everything.)

Steeling herself, holding her breath, she peeks from behind the gold star collar. Aviator Shades’s nose is practically touching Willow’s. She can feel his icy breath coming through his too many teeth smile.

A second that feels like an hour later, their car bursts through the tunnel and he’s gone.

One more stop and then they’re stuck.

 

[ellarose]

Although Juliet has been making a most valiant effort not to cause knife incident number two, her unoccupied hand is in her knife pocket when the lights go out. (Her other arm is occupied as it's hugged by Willow James-- who provides her some semblance of reassurance that everything she's seeing is real. Or, if it is an illusion, it's an illusion they're seeing together. She has company, at least, and in that she feels less...) 'She's gone completely mad.' The scandalized voices from her memories gasp. A glass shatters. High heels click against the floors as ladies scatter and cry into the gentleman's parlor for help. Remembering the too-harsh grip of the men grabbing her by the arms, yanking the knife from her hands. Juliet grits her teeth. She loses herself to the memory to such an extent that she nearly shakes Willow off of her-- momentarily believing her to be someone else. (No. She's not them. Though the sorceress's hold is tight with alarm, it's not bruising. She does not aim to hurt or control her.) The eyeless man disappears just before the archer can wrap her fingers around the hilt of her knife and draw it out.

In this unfamiliar world, full of unfamiliar people and unfamiliar dangers, Juliet's pulse thumps like rabbit feet in her wrist long after their tormentor has disappeared. She can sense by Willow's frame and grip that she's stiff with panic beside her. Though she's been fighting at her side and getting stronger (or in some cases, showing a strength she may have always possessed) it serves as a reminder her that her companion isn't nearly as accustomed as she to being pursued by those who might wish her harm. (...Traveling by Juliet's side, she'll only encounter even more of the trouble and tragedy that trails after her like a curse.) After all, Juliet's been running and fighting since before she lost her two front teeth. It doesn't make it any easier. But she can pretend to be steadier and surer than she is, for Willow's sake.

'Breathe, Juliet.' Lara's voice soothes. Juliet constantly wonders if Lara was pretending back then. To find a starving, dying child, knowing she was the only person out there capable of helping her. Securing a safe space to rebuild her strength, teaching her to fight. She never got angry when Juliet panicked in the middle of the night and ate all of the food she'd spent the day gathering. She apologized over and over, but the woman just stroked her hair and shushed her. She understood why Juliet was terrified of hunger. She saw the fear in her, why it made her do the things she did. After that, she taught her how to find her own food. The archer's kept each of those lessons with her and still applies them to this day. Even though Lara is gone, her presence is always felt.

Sometimes Juliet wishes she could forget. It'd be easier than facing the empty void they leave behind when they're gone. She's completely alone to remember the moments she shared with Lara. She cannot reminisce over those memories with someone who also remembers them... not the way that Willow and her family at the Rhode Island house can. She does not have a Meredith in her life, someone who openly shows such a fierce protectiveness over her heart. (She did not have Willow James back when she desperately needed someone to believe in her, either.) Deep down, she knows she shouldn't compare their lives. It's reductive. However, it is rather difficult to smother the twinges of loneliness and envy that creep up on occasion when she observes these things.

Juliet can be happy for Willow and sad for herself at the same time, can she not? They've lived extremely different lives, in extremely different worlds. Though there is jealousy, her will is stronger than it is. She tames it, doesn't allow for it to become an ugly monster that consumes her with malice and hate. (No, she refuses to behave like those men she so often targets.) She knows better than to hold these things against Willow. It'd be different, perhaps, if she put her down because of their differences. But the sorceress has shown her nothing but kindness and understanding since they met. (The sort of understanding she hasn't truly felt since Lara, since... Viola.) For her sake, she knows she needs to hold herself together now.

"...Hey. We're fine, Willow. He's done nothing thus far but try to scare us." Juliet keeps her voice low, pressing a hand to Willow's shoulder to steady her. "It's hard to think clearly when you're afraid, isn't it? Think about it. That's exactly what that bastard wants. For us to panic, to give into it. Remember to breathe. That's the first step." She takes a deep breath of her own, hoping it might ease her companion into doing the same. "We bested a hydra, survived the haunted halls of Okeanos and exposed a king. You stood up to Griffith King and summoned a storm. Now, do you think that man and his spectacled allies will truly stand a chance against us?" She shakes her head. "No fucking way. The only reason they've taken an interest in us is because they know we're a threat. They're scared of us... as they should be."

Juliet wears a sharp, rebellious little grin. She is equipped with the skills to survive these situations precisely because of the life she's lived. When she combines every monster and foe she's ever faced up until this point, she knows with certainty that this won't be where she falls. She must think critically about their opponents, their strengths and their potential weaknesses. Along with that, she also must consider the resources they have at their disposal. How do they fight these creeps? (She considers the shadows, the shaded spectacles they wear.) Suddenly, her brown eyes flash with the beginnings of an idea.

Their opponents have left them alone for the moment... they must think they're twiddling their fingers fearfully, plotting their escape. They don't expect them to fight back. (If they wanted a fight, then surely they would've stared one already.)

"Carmilla gave us supplies earlier. If I recall correctly, she mentioned collecting a sample of the creature's shadow." Juliet muses quickly, quietly. "...Do you think it would be possible for us to trap their shadows in your vials?" She pauses. "Let's see... they're wary of the light. They're all wearing those peculiar spectacles indoors, too. There must be a reason for it, don't you think?" She voices her observations, knowing Willow's inclination to pick up on details she might miss-- or to think of useful spells she might not be aware of. "We should stay close to the windows while we still have daylight. We'll need to stay close and be especially cautious when the sun goes down. Ensure we have the means to create our own light if need be, should they try to use the darkness to their advantage again."

And should the worst comes to pass? Juliet does know a few toasty toasty spells that are guaranteed to start a fire. It's worth mentioning that none of them are explicitly meant to start fires. One of the spells she knows is meant to tie shoelaces... Juliet's version set them ablaze. Millie waved her arms frantically and yelled at her to focus, with hopes that they could still salvage it, but focusing only encouraged the flames to rise higher and higher. Anyhow... should they find themselves in a toasty toasty situation, she's not beyond using her toasty toasty magic to see to it that they escape.

 

[starboob]

Juliet is solid, like a mountain. (She is so much like Willow’s favorite god and she doesn't even know the extent of their similarities. Yet.) When the danger passes, she doesn’t push Willow away or remind her that she’s a grown woman, a heroine, and needs to pull herself together. She lets her recover at her own pace. She consoles her without judgment. She reminds Willow that she’s strong. And of course she hasn’t forgotten everything she’s accomplished since they started their work together, it’s just taking a while to fully integrate this knowledge. It’s taking a while to understand—to accept that her fear and her strength are not mutually exclusive.

Isn’t that what all the stories of Fearless are about? Isn’t this why she named her sword Fearless Daylight?

She gives herself another moment to recover and then pulls away from Juliet, still shaking and no less ready. Reluctantly, she gives Juliet her arm back. Then, with a deep breath she steels herself. They’re a team and they need to be strong for each other. They cannot let their enemies get in their heads. And maybe it’s a good thing Aviator Shades thinks that he has; maybe they can use this to their advantage. Somehow.

The first order of business, however, is staying in the light. It’s bright out right now. The skies are also clear and should remain so for the duration of their time in You York. The only other tunnel they’ll pass through will be once they get to the city's perimeter, where they'll enter the subway network (she’ll need to prepare Juliet for that). So long as they figure out their light situation by then (or even neutralize their opponents, if it comes down to it), they should be fine.

It’s also best to not rule out unnatural causes of darkness. If these are Charming Street goons, then it’s very well possible that they’re capable of pushing the boundaries of what is and isn’t possible. (The night at the temple proves that, too.) As she thinks, their thread flickers. Not with any particular color or for any reason (that Willow can tell), but she follows the direction of the reflection and—

Light up shoes.

Okay, maybe they don’t actually need light up shoes like those two giggling little kids, but it does give her an idea. (...Willow does kind of want light up shoes and she thinks Juliet would be fascinated with them, but she must be serious.)

The train makes its final stop before they cross over the canyon that was once an ocean and with the new hustle and bustle of onboarding and offboarding passengers, two adjoining seats open up that they duck into. Willow doesn’t intend for them to stay long, however; she only needs a bit of time to fashion her spells.

The first of which involved her summoning some holiday string lights (never question why Willow thought she might need these). Then she takes off her shoes and instructs Juliet to do the same. (Some people who notice this curl their lips. Willow ignores them.) And, yes, she does wrap the lights around the shoes. Then she casts a glyph over them. The lights brighten, then sink into the surface, disappearing. They're ordinary shoes again. But when she summons a blanket to cover them and then lifts that cover just enough for Juliet to see, rainbow lights twinkle back at them. (...So maybe she is giving them light up shoes, but they’re practical light up shoes!) She grins, handing the bitchin’ boots back to Juliet. “Hard to tell, but they’ll also create a halo around us in the dark.”

Next up, the vials. This is much simpler and Willow suggests they give up their seats so that they can stay on the move. For the vials, she simply casts a faulty expansion spell, like the one her father cast on his colorblock backpack that she now carries with her. Thus, it’ll be a little… sucky. Like a vacuum. She arms Juliet with two vials and then awards her another gold star that she sticks on the back of her hand. “For resisting knife incident number two. Although…” She pulls her mouth to the side, nodding thoughtfully. “It would have been totally appropriate. Still. Rules are rules. You did good, August.”

The next car they settle in is a great glass car. Not really, but it is made to look as though it’s made of glass. Or maybe it's more like crystal with the way the material casts rainbows everywhere—over Juliet’s red hair and Willow’s freckles. Small songbirds and butterflies flit through this car. A sparkly blue one lands on top of Juliet’s nose. Willow giggles.

After Juliet’s little friend takes flight, they find a small table near the crystal walls. A tiny pixie wearing a calla lily as a skirt pops in with a tea menu to place on the table. “Ring the bell,” a small bell appears beside Juliet's hand, “if you want anything. Today’s special is a lemon chamomile tea with some ginger bikkies—biscuits.” She covers her reddening face with her notepad, then flits away. So relatable.

Heeding Juliet's earlier warning, she doesn't dare tempt herself with the menu; though tea does sound nice. She leans forward against the table, grinning as she watches the rainbow reflections continue their dance over Juliet's features, getting caught in her brown eyes. “I think I’ve spied an even better view than the one from the botanical car.” She opens her mouth to say more, then closes it, the ever present grin and awe coming clean off her features.

A few seats away from them, under one of the few shaded tables, Trenchcoat appears. This doesn’t do justice what Willow really saw, however. It's more than just appearing. It's that a second ago a different woman had been where Trenchcoat now lingers. A different woman who melted away and from that puddle, Trenchcoat rose. (There is no evidence of said puddle.)

Her eyes snap back to Juliet, quickly schooling her expression. (Not quickly enough.) “Do you like peaches? There’s a peach tree over there.” She looks over to the one currently protecting Trenchcoat. "Peach pits can be poisonous... Murder fruit..."

 

[ellarose]

'You did good, August.' Juliet traces the edges of the gold star on the back of her hand, lost in thought. A warm feeling blossoms in her chest. Then some traitorous fucking butterflies hover around that warm feeling, their tiny wings sending flurries down her arms and legs. The tips of her ears turn pink. It's nothing. If it had to be anything, it'd surely be a natural sense of pride in herself for avoiding knife incident number two. Isn't it the same as when Lara smiled and praised her for hitting every bullseye during training? Anyhow, she needn't investigate the feeling beyond that. Now, what was Willow saying? Something about... about the view?

No, now she's onto the subject of peaches. Murder fruit? Juliet tilts her head to the side perplexedly, following Willow's gaze. The instant she notices Trenchcoat beneath the peach tree, she levels a glare at him. Following them around with that smug grin on his face, trying to get in their heads... this is getting to be tiresome. What do they want? What are they trying to achieve right now? She considers the option of throwing her silverware at the peaches above his head, perhaps causing a couple of them to rain down on him unexpectedly. Unfortunately, that's not a viable solution. (It would be funny, though.) It'd be simpler if she could strike him down with an arrow, or a knife, but... yes, of course she knows that's not a viable solution either. This is exactly the sort of situation where an invisible arrow would come in-- handy?

Speaking of hands? Juliet notices a strange sensation in the palm of her hand-- as if someone just handed her something. Not just something, but an arrow. When she looks down, however, she finds there's nothing there. (Nothing to be seen, that is.) Her brow furrows slightly. Did she simply... think it and will an invisible arrow into existence? (Thus far, she's only been able to do this with her Lightless arrows.) She can feel every familiar groove and edge around the sharp point of the arrowhead. Her heart races in her chest. What? Staring at the back of her hand wonderingly, she has to ask herself if this is the power of the gold stars.

Instead of using it right away, Juliet rings the little bell next to her hand and summons the pixie to their table. Since their pursuer wants to play games so badly, Juliet will show him that she's not afraid to play a couple games of her own. (It's how she learned to survive the torment of Lavinia Laurence and her cronies-- another circumstance where weapons not allowed.)

"I would like to place an order... it's not for either of us, but for the gentleman sitting underneath the peach tree." Juliet informs her. She shields her mouth with her hand, lowering it to a conspiratorial whisper. The pixie leans in eagerly. "It's his birthday today. I didn't mean to, but I overheard him on the phone with his mother earlier. It sounded like she forgot all about it. When he hung up he looked so sad. Would you bring out some cake and candles out for him? I think it might cheer him up."

Juliet is not sure whether this is the sort of establishment that makes a big deal of birthdays... she only knows what she knows from stories she heard about Evermore birthdays just yesterday. Apparently, certain restaurants will sing, bring out a cake full of flaming candles and cast a spotlight on someone when it's their birthday. (It sounded like hell to Juliet... but according to Leif and the others there are some people who enjoy it.) Either way, it's time to cast some unexpected light on Mister Shady Trousers and his shady ways.

"Oh my. That is so sweet!" The pixie presses her tiny hands over her heart, her eyes big and sparkly. "I love birthdays. I'm sure we could arrange a special surprise for the poor fellow!" She winks at them. "It won't come at any expense. Cake is free on birthdays!"

The pixie flits off, her flowery skirt swishing, and Juliet glances at Willow disbelievingly. "Cake is free on birthdays?" She bites her lip as she considers this. Willow's isn't for another year now, and... "Damn. Mine is in December." Crikey, to think that she refused cake yesterday. In the moment she knew that decision was best for her. She needed time to rest. Now, though... it'd certainly be nice if cake would appear in her hand, wouldn't it? She waits for a moment, tapping the fingers of her free hand against the table, but nothing happens. (Unfortunately, she still stands by her belief that they should be wary of the food served to them on this train. The pickle was fine... perhaps they should sneak back to the rear cars find some more?) While she cannot will cake into existence, she's still holding onto her invisible arrow. Rest assured, it's still a vital part of her plan.

Soon enough the rainbow projections in the glass coach flow towards Trenchcoat like a river, temporarily wiping the assured smirk off his face. Juliet tries to smother her smile behind her hand as a big spotlight blinks to life and shines down on him. Good luck slinking away into your precious shadows now. The pixie staff take it a step further, raining a magical, sparkling dust over him as they sing a cheery quartet birthday song that draws the attention of every single patron in the coach. The last pixies in line parade in with a cake. As requested, a circle of candles flickers whimsically atop it.

Trenchcoat is tense, the corners of a practiced, polite smile trembling as he tugs at the collar of his coat. With so many eyes and sources of light being thrown his way at once, he appears very much at a loss. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone is preoccupied with clapping and congratulating him, Juliet lifts her invisible arrow and aims it at one of the peaches hanging over his table. Once the cake is set down in front of him, she gives an expert flick of her fingers and it hits its mark. The peach falls and lands with a glorious 'splat!' into his cake, splatting his coat and the lenses of his shady spectacles with rainbow frosting. A few of the candles tilt into each other and when the flames meet, they create even bigger flames.

As the pixies let out hysterical, high-pitched screams at the ensuing chaos, Juliet grabs Willow's hand and weaves them through the gathering crowd to escape. No one takes notice of them as everyone's eyes are fixed on Trenchcoat-- everyone is trying to help him now, offering him napkins. Three pixies panic and heave a pitcher of water over the table-- making an even bigger mess. As the heroines wind their way through a few of the cars ahead, Juliet can't help but throw back her head and laugh like a little kid.

 

[starboob]

“I didn’t know you had invisible weapons.” Willow leans back, hands braced against the small of her back as she catches her breath. It doesn’t seem they have been followed, but that is no longer a reliable indicator that they are safe. The shadows on the ground seem normal enough, so she decides to at least find a small amount of comfort in that.

After a few minutes her breathing slows back down to normal and she does a once over of Juliet, searching for weapon shaped outlines that she might have missed before. Though the invisible one seemed to come out of nowhere and Willow doesn’t recall the archer reaching into her bag. (She's quick, but not that quick.) She narrows her eyes for a moment, then relents. She whips out the sticker sheet and sticks this one beside the one on her hand. “For the appropriate use of invisible weaponry.”

It seems that they have bought themselves a moment of respite as a minute without incident turns to an hour. They still move through the train, explore the different cars, get distracted making faces at babies (well, Willow does), and stay alert to any slithering shadows.

When they get to a car with a bump out balcony, Willow points out the different landmarks as they appear on the horizon. The Whereabouts are far enough behind them that they're just a blur of dark color, save for the distinct pink glow of Foreverend, Evermore’s capital. You York and the Summer Triangle are also distant blurs, but certain spires and towers in the city are becoming clear enough to point out. Like the statue of Reputation that used to rise out from the ocean, acting as a guardian for the bustling city. Then the three floating cloud islands that make up the Summer Triangle become clear establishments with their distant blinking lights and satellite towers poking from the otherwise soft fluffy clouds. (Willow explains that they used to be regular islands, but when the ocean was taken away, Evermore’s elite, who would frequent the island during holidays, namely summer, banded together to float the islands and turn them into a cloudy metropolis. She’s never been and has little interest in going.)

While they’re out on the balcony, Willow leans over the edge and points out some of the old infrastructure that once belonged to the mermaid cities. (Another place she’d never been and now will never get to experience.) Like the statue of Reputation, there is a statue of Style standing regal at a long broken gate that once would have protected the city. When Willow notices Juliet staying some feet away from the edge, she beckons her closer, assuming the polite distance is because of the group next to them. She does not suspect any alternative reason for her distance.

Not too long after that, Juliet inquires about the zoo car. (Maybe it’s a trick of Willow’s imagination, but she swears that Juliet is a little shy about asking.) With nothing else to do, they trek back through the cars. Along the way, they pass by several snack carts and Willow’s snack stomach rumbles, craving something salty. She summons a bag of Chex Mix from her bag and offers it to Juliet before pouring herself a handful.

The zoo car is shadier since it’s currently featuring a jungle habitat and while that initially has Willow reaching for Juliet's wrist, their shoes adopt a soft glow in response. An almost imperceptible halo also outlines their figures. It feels safe enough so Willow lets go and they stay, feed some monkeys, pet a tiger, and let some brightly colored birds land on them. The Shady Bunch does not show up even once.

“Maybe they want us comfortable?” Willow mumbles this as they wait in line to use the phone. The quiet makes her suspicious. It’s unlikely that Juliet’s prank got them to back off. (Ugh, that laugh. She would do so many unthinkable things to hear that laugh again.) They wouldn’t be Charming Street’s underlings if they were so easily scared off by ruined clothes, fire, and birthday cake. “Hmph,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not going to work. We’re too smart for that.”

She calls Meredith to let her know their ETA, deciding they shouldn’t chance public transportation. And, not wanting to put Meredith in danger, at least for as long as she can keep her safe, she hangs up the line and spins on her heel, holding up her vials. “Let’s take a sampy.”

Though they would cover more ground splitting up, and do entertain the idea, after everything in Folklore, they agree to sacrifice efficiency for protection. (Nothing good ever happens when they split up, anyway.) Finding these stalkers turns out to be a more difficult task than they anticipated. They showed up when they were unwanted and now that they know the heroines are not above fighting back, they are not showing face. Willow bites her lip. ‘Maybe they’re done for today?’ That’s an optimistic thought and she knows it, doesn’t even bother suggesting it. She bites her lip. “Maybe we should head to the back?” Where the bussing carts (and abandoned pickles) are located. “Well… It’s risky, but…” ‘I don’t want to bring these stalkers back to Meredith’s. I don’t want them to know she’s involved.’ The scary part is that they already might know.

She starts chewing on the inside of her cheek in silent deliberation. Her green eyes harden; she nods with steeled resolve. “We should do it. We should take the risk, right? It’ll send a message to Charming Street to not—to not,” she stammers, trying to find that effortless cool Juliet always carries with her. “To not duck with us.” Close enough.