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

[ellarose]

"Ah, I see. Wilco must be very skilled." Juliet observes with a head tilt, envisioning the 'dough nuts'. Initially her mind paints them as roasted nuts covered in dough and she finds herself intrigued by Willow James's explanation of what they are actually supposed to be. (Then she becomes rather distracted, gazing at the strawberry that the sorceress sets aside on her plate as she samples the frosting from her flaming red cake. Is she going to eat it? The archer fights to resist the urge to steal it when her companion isn't looking.) Ah. The smile means she likes the cake, yes? That means she has good taste.

Anyway, she does understand that 'dollars' are the currency used on the Other Side. Juliet supposes that this is a fair price if Willow James is so enthusiastic about them. There is also relief alongside this revelation, knowing what she said of her family and knowing that she can afford to eat a dessert that she enjoys so much. (Then again, Willow James does not strike her as the sort of person who has ever had to punch anyone in the face in order to secure a meal.) Once again, the archer imagines the fried rings of dough that she speaks of. They must be delicious. Will she ever get to try one? She has never entertained the concept of exploring the Other Side before... well, not since she was a child anyway. Meeting Willow James puts the thought in her head. Especially when they speak of desserts like this. "The most delicious desserts in Amoria come from the market square. There are flaky devilfish rings... those are nice. Not to be mistaken with the flaky rings of death at Dimitri's stall." Her face twists in a mildly offended expression just thinking of the flaky rings of death (and Dimitri) and quickly cleanses her metaphorical palette by thinking of other things-- like the chocolate coated fruits on sticks. The nobles who attended the gathering that evening would never trust food from the square and they are missing out for it. The art is in observing carefully and knowing which stalls to avoid.

Juliet presses her lips inward, tasting the remnants of something sweet on them. It's all this talk of food. She thinks of various different ways to approach the subject of the strawberry on Willow James's plate. However, the topic of breaking noses stops her before she can find the words, let alone work up the nerve to say anything at all. When it comes to breaking noses, though, it doesn't take very long for her to answer to that question in contrast. "Yes. I have broken many noses." Is her automatic, straightforward answer. Although most were not over petty squabbles with other ladies such as with Lavinia. Rather she acted in self defense or out of necessity in order to survive. Listening to the sorceress speak of what she knows of her own skills (or lack thereof when it comes to breaking noses) and how she wants to do better is admirable. She is honest. The path she's choosing is not an easy one (especially when noting her jumpiness and the way she curled into a tiny ball upon meeting an ogre) but her earnest resolve to try is still worth something. (Earnest enough that it distracts her from the strawberry... briefly.)

"There is a time and place for breaking noses. As fast as you might learn, you will not learn fast enough in Amoria." Juliet supplies. The first half of the wisdom she imparts is something her mother once told her while the second half sounds more like something Lara might say. (Her mother insisted that she would not need to break any more noses so long as she lived safely in the kingdom of Amoria... but she couldn't have been more wrong about that. Monsters exist in every social class. Some are simply better at hiding it is all. Juliet has made a living of exposing such monsters who walk among them. The liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of the world.) Even so, this is not an outright refusal or even an attempt to express some close-minded belief that Willow James will never be capable of breaking anyone's nose. It's a statement coming from someone who has experience attempting to use her dolls for target practice as a child after living on the streets of Athana and in the wood. It's just not the same. "Er... because there are not many consenting individuals here. If you truly wish to learn then I would be best equipped to teach you in the wood."

That is how Lara taught her. That is what she knows. (There is nothing more than that.) Juliet bites her lip and snuffs out flickers of thoughts that don't matter. It's indisputable that all of Amoria would agree that the archer is too busy handling the recent spike in afflictions to teach someone to fight within the kingdom. If Willow is to accompany her as her partner, then the lessons would be best learned 'on the job'. (If she brings this up with princess Elise then she might be sent to train with the guards until she is ready... and she would not subject Willow James to their lot.) It is best if she learns from her if they really are to work together.

"I suppose there are a few things I can teach you before we venture out that far, though. Such as how to deliver a punch without breaking your thumb." Juliet makes a proper fist where her thumb is visible and then an improper one where she holds it within her fingers indicatively... and then that same hand moves like lightning to snatch the uneaten strawberry from Willow's plate. (Heavens. It is just sitting there. And if it continues to sit there she will think of nothing else. As a rule, Juliet always eats the strawberry first to ensure that no one can steal it from her.) She coughs awkwardly. "I will do so in return for this strawberry."

Juliet hurries ahead as her cheeks blush as pink as the strawberry. (Ah. Was that too bold of her?) However, it seems that she is right to hasten her pace because she overhears nearby fragments of conversation along with the sound of her name. She does not want to linger long enough to know what they are saying about her-- let alone long enough for them to discover her. The archer manages to scarf down the whole entire strawberry before whispering a warning to Willow James. "This way. Hurry."

They turn another corner, into the hall where the plush, velvety carpet sinks satisfyingly beneath her feet and quiets their footsteps. Juliet finally stops before yet another staircase. Rather than approach it as if she is going to ascend it, however, she approaches a statue of a mermaid on a nearby pedestal instead and tugs on its hooped earring. The staircase then parts in the middle with a soft rumble, revealing a secret passageway within.

It's dark inside the hidden hall until Juliet touches a plate on the side of the wall. With a 'whoosh', lanterns lined all the way down the passageway ignite with golden flames that dance like pixies. The archer never indicates whether she is leading them somewhere specific or if this is simply a route she is taking to escape notice. Instead, she thinks back to what Willow James had to say about her contributions.

"Strategy is important, too." Juliet points out quietly as they walk, thinking back to the sorceress's comment about wanting to 'actually do something'. (She is not sure why she is incentivized to something about this... it's more of a feeling. And like most feelings, she intends to pointedly ignore it.) "It sounded like you worked very hard before coming here."

That's when they finally make it there. The music room. The main attraction is undoubtedly the grand piano sitting near the bay window, with edges that seem to sparkle and shine. In certain places the wood is carved in intricate patterns like lace and flower garlands are wrapped around the legs and draped over the top. (There are similarly beautiful instruments sitting together on a small platform.) It does not look like an auditorium meant for large performances-- but rather a parlor explicitly purposed for gatherings among close friends. While it is intricate and exquisitely designed, a lot like the rest of the palace, there has always been something inherently cozy about the music room. At least that is the case to Juliet. Maybe it's the smaller size, or the memories of the music she used to doze off listening to as she rested on the sofa in the corner. The summer days she snuck away to play the piano (badly) when no one else was present. Along with learning to read, Juliet came to appreciate the piano lessons she received as a child with time. In fact, learning to play her first song almost matched the happiness she felt hitting her first bullseye.

While part of Juliet longs to approach the piano and touch the keys, she resists the pull. (It has been a very long time.) Her brown eyes flicker over to Willow James instead. "Do you play any instruments?"

 

[starboob]

Were Willow James not trying to pretend that she is not huffing and puffing her way through the castle, struggling to keep with Juliet’s pace, she might have corrected her that Wilco isn’t a person. (She doesn’t think, at least.) Instead, she can only smile to herself and wonder what kind of donut Juliet might enjoy and it pains her that she doesn’t know enough about the other woman to know this for sure. (In the back of her mind she imagines some distant future with herself and Juliet. One where they live together somewhere cozy and warm. On Sunday mornings Willow will wake up extra early to pick up a dozen of her lover’s favorite donuts. She’ll buy them with the intent of making them last at least until Monday, but she knows neither of them will have the self-control to let them see noon. That’s a bit silly as she doesn’t see why she would ever buy a dozen donuts for two people, but it’s a fun daydream and one she might find lulling her into slumber later on.) Though the topic of donuts is short lived as the archer starts speaking of the stalls in the market. It reminds her of the “grease trucks” that would hang around her college campus, waiting for hungry students to wander by after classes, smell the salty-oily air, and be pulled in with watering mouths and open wallets.

Then Willow quiets some as the conversation moves back to fighting. Not just because they are moving through a castle and she is having trouble taking everything in, following along with Juliet, and keep up their conversation. No, the sorceress quiets when the archer tells her that she will never learn fast enough. Her stomach drops hearing that and interpreting it as Juliet’s lack of faith in her fated partner. She doesn’t necessarily blame her. Not after the wood. She knows who she is and she is Willow James, the girl who can’t handle even a tap on her shoulder without jumping three feet out of her pants. ‘This was naïve.’ Though she’s always known that and for some reason… That just did not stop her. Probably because she knew that without her, no one else would do something. (Not even Sawyer had been interested––well, she had been, but she had also been doubtful they’d even be able to find a gateway successfully and she also worried about falling behind with her transcripts.) It was her first brave step, she can acknowledge that, and yet there are miles still in front of her. 'So what? Didn't you just say that every champion has to start somewhere? Don't quit before you've even started.' She thinks for a second that she might just do this to prove everyone wrong, but then she decides against that. She wants to do this to prove herself wrong, because maybe Willow James can be a name that actually means something more than being the kid with a dad who––

“Wha––?” The sorceress’s face turns into a question mark when Juliet agrees to teach her. She had not been expecting that, admittedly. Not after what the archer said, but it turns out that Willow James may have jumped to her conclusions much too soon. ‘She’s your person, of course she won’t give up on you.’ Before she lets herself get too caught up in her thoughts, she pays close attention to this first lesson. ...That she does already know, thanks to Leif’s obsession with kung fu and karate movies and having been forced to sit through several. Even so she appreciates the lesson as she knows it is the first of many and that is rather exciting. (Already her brain supplies her with a fantasy of sparring with Juliet. A fantasy that ends with one of them pinned to the ground and, wow, it’s getting hot in here? Probably just the running, haha.)

Needless to say, she totally misses when the other woman swipes the strawberry from her plate. Not until it’s brought to her attention and when she is aware? She can only breathe out a laugh. See, Willow James always planned to give the strawberry to Juliet August. That is why she set it to the side. (Well, also because the best berries grow at the Rhode Island house and she doesn't want Amoria to disappoint her. Assuming they make it over to Elsewhere, she can't wait for Juliet to taste real strawberries from her grandmothers' property––if they make it before the season ends, of course.) If she were going to be upset about it, it would just be over the fact that she didn't get her chance to be charming about it. "You are funny, Juliet August. That strawberry was always for you," she pops another cream puff in her mouth, "I saw you eat the strawberries first on your flaming red cakes." (It's just red velvet. Who is going to tell them? Ah, well, it's not hurting anyone and she supposes it makes sense that the sides would have different names for things.) "If we ever have to go to my side, I can take you to the best berry orchard in Elsewhere." She would say more, but suddenly they’re rushing and Willow is struggling to keep up. (Thankfully for Juliet, Willow does not hear any of the snippets of gossip. She doesn’t even register that they’re running again because of the possibility that they will get caught.)

She does look a little betrayed when the archer takes her to another set of stairs, believing they will to climb even more, but then… the staircase splits apart? “What the…” she mutters, her eyes wide with wonder. She struggles to remain forward facing once they’re in the tunnel, turning her head from side to side, up and down, trying to take in as much of this as time will allow. (As in, what Juliet’s pace will allow her to see. Gah, she walks so fast!)

“Yeah, I guess I have worked hard,” Willow admits in between eyefulls of wonderment. (Like this, her tone sounds distant and dreamy.) Still, she doesn’t think it’s as great as what Juliet is doing. All of her stuff has been behind a book or typewriter. Sure, sure––plenty of academics have made important contributions from their books and inkwells, but for Willow James? Who desires more than a quiet academic life can offer? It won’t be enough for her and she had not realized that until this opportunity with love came about.

She sighs and tucks a loose curl behind her ear, staring down at her plate. (She smiles remembering the strawberry incident.) “But it’s a different kind of hard work than what I think this venture might require. I mean, I can only strategize so much to play to my strengths. At a certain point, I need the skill to back it.” (That, again, she does have! Otherwise she wouldn’t have the famed Carmilla le Roux as her thesis advisor––the sorceress who practically invented the study of illusions. That she had been impressed with Willow’s charms and adaptation of her spells when she interviewed? Willow still thinks about how the esteemed sorceress's lips twitched––no one's ever gotten that kind of reaction from her and Willow knows to feel good about it. It's just that that had been a contained environment and Willow had weeks to prepare both mentally and physically. She also knew what to expect. When they venture into the wood, no one is going to write her a list of adversaries she will see or when she will be encountering them; she won't have any clue how to prepare. She'll... she'll have to trust herself.) “I’m sure with you as a teacher, I’ll be quite interested in my lessons and, uh, making sure I don’t embarrass you.”

When they enter what Willow will later learn is called the music room, she gasps, taking this opportunity to fully spin around and marvel at the room. It's as ornate as the rest of the castle, but she doesn't find herself nearly as intimidated by it. Maybe because it's much smaller and the fixings are more minimal. Either way, she can see why this would be Juliet August's favorite place in the castle. She naturally wanders over to the grand piano, setting her plate down on the bench (she does grab the lemon tart as she suspects leaving an unattended plate around Juliet August might result in an empty plate when she returns) to run her fingers over the carvings. She then goes to the bay window to admire the view and then over to the platform to look over the variety of other beautifully ornate instruments. ‘Gosh, this all looks so expensive.’

She takes a bite of the tart, pleased that it truly is tart, as she runs her fingers delicately over the viola. “Sort of,” she replies with a wiggly hand gesture to punctuate just the level of 'sort of' she means. (Music was always more of Leif’s thing––he is the type who can hear a tune and reproduce it effortlessly.) “I know a few songs on the piano and ukulele, but I just memorized them. It’s not like I can read sheet music or anything like that.” Realizing that this now might set the expectation that she play something, she hurriedly adds, "But I really don't play in front of people––I get too nervous and just forget everything I know." She polishes off the tart and then sits down at the piano, even if she has no intention to play. "What about yourself? What secret talents does the great Juliet August have?" Then, rather slyly (or so she thinks) she adds, "Aside from defying death."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is acutely aware of where Willow James sets her plate as she strides towards her velvety, tufted sofa in the other corner of the room. She removes her shoes and then throws herself down upon it in a fashion that her mother would scorn as 'most unladylike'. (Mother is not here. But there are many times where Juliet has acted out in the castle, mistakingly thinking she was not there when she actually was. The archer has learned to listen for her footsteps-- but it turns out that that is not enough. If the right eyes or ears catch her, then the gossip will reach her eventually. Her mother is a masterful forager when it comes to gathering whispers and rumors.) This tenseness accompanies every small rebellion, even now. Even when it really shouldn't. Because she is beyond the point of caring what these nobles think of her. There is a world beyond the crystalized bubble of Amoria and one day she intends to escape it forever. (She was almost there. She'd been so close. If it wasn't for...) Her eyes track the lemon tart, which Willow James holds onto, and she diverts her attention to the painted mural on the ceiling as if not to make her interest obvious. It is true that she did wrap some sweets up herself... but she is practicing self restraint and saving them for when she is in a location where such sweets are no longer accessible to her.

The simple act of tilting her head back makes the archer sleepy. Heavy exhaustion settles itself over her eyelids now that she is finally resting. This has been an eventful day, more so than usual. Exploring the wood, meeting an Other Sider and socializing. The announcement. While she may be able to hide now, she won't be able to hide forever. They will blame her for putting ideas in the princess's head, Lavinia's mother will reaffirm her stance that bringing in an 'urchin from the outside' all those years ago was a grave mistake. (Not that it matters. It's the same old song and dance. She knows the steps. She just has to swallow the words she'll never say, even if they're heated enough to burn her throat in the process, and endure it long enough not to give into her innermost desires to burn the castle down. This is why Grace sticks to the shadows and does not accompany her into the castle anymore... when a fox starts breathing fire, it becomes apparent that something is amiss.) The castle itself drains her. If anyone asks, though, Juliet has not had the chance to rest her aching feet since before sunrise. That is the reason why she is so tired. Physical exertion and nothing more than that. Because her feelings are not allowed to exist.

"I see. I learned to read sheet music as a girl... but I prefer to listen." Juliet's ears have always been sharp, attuned to every little sound, so she has been told that it makes sense that she learns best by ear instead of 'by the book'. (What does music on the Other Side sound like? Is it the same?) Then she considers what Willow has to say about nerves, wrapping a red lock of hair distractedly around her hand. (Another habit that mother would have commented on. Her hair strangles her wrist.) "Princess Elise was the same way. She did not like to go up on stage." She remembers the princess clinging to her hand, claiming she would not go without Juliet there beside her. Eventually her duties made it impossible for her to avoid such events. (Once Juliet asked her why she started dressing in such sparkly dresses... and princess Elise smiled and said she became happier expressing herself when she felt like she was 'being who she was on the inside'.) Still, she can only imagine the strength it took for her to make that announcement. (For Flynn Everson of all people. He is, er, nice. One of the only boys who treated her with genuine kindness when they were kids. Yes, he will treat her like the princess she is. But he is so very simple.) Juliet can only hope that he is worth it. In the moment, love seems like it is worth all of the risk in the world. Until...

Aside from defying death. Defying death? Juliet's brown eyes widen with realization before flickering like cornered prey. The heart she's been trying to ignore pounds fervently at her chest, like an intruder. Like a killer who's out for her blood. She gathers her legs and skirts against her chest and averts her gaze. Where did she...?

"...I used to act and dance at the opera house." Juliet starts, miraculously managing to keep her voice steady. (By now she's had lots of practice. Doesn't get any easier to try and block out the memories that accompany that part of her life, though. She's fine. It's behind her. And in a way she does understand the intrigue, as much as she hates fielding the questions. It makes sense, hearing such things, why anyone would be curious. After all, how does a dead girl come back to life?) "And, yes... at one point I faked my own death." She tries to make this sound casual. As casual as it can possibly sound. "I was thirteen." (Thirteen and stupid. Stupid and in love with someone she should not have been in love with. Thirteen and heartbroken and desperate to get revenge and run away.) "And I know my poisons." She shrugs. Again, keeping this casual. "My 'death' was so convincing that Lavinia still brings it up to this day, all of these years later. I suppose she has nothing better to talk about."

Juliet 'died' with the intention of staying dead. She never wanted to come back. This is all in the past, though, and there is not point in digging any deeper into the reasons why.

The archer considers what else she can add to her list of 'talents' to change the topic and effectively set it to rest. Hm. Her ability to twirl a blade is rather distracting, and also one that she takes much pride in. (Once she saw Lara do it for the first time, Juliet was so fascinated that she demanded the woman teach her immediately. She had been six years old at the time. Surprisingly, Lara told her that she learned that trick from a pixie. Evidently, pixies and faeries are very skilled with knives.) With Willow James's nervous disposition, she's not sure if brandishing her dagger all of a sudden would be the wisest course of action. Then again, Willow James intends to learn to fight from her. And no one else is around, so... Juliet fishes under her skirts for the dagger strapped to her leg and proceeds to twirl it like a baton between her fingers. "...I can also perform a number of dagger tricks." She adds, nonchalant as ever. "Would you like to learn one?"

 

[starboob]

As Willow James sits on the piano bench and looks around the room (because she's trying to keep from staring at Juliet), she realizes that she has never been this far from home before. Each step taken takes her further and further from the Rhode Island house where she did most of her growing up. There is a part of her that feels a tug to go back––a part that is doubtful of herself, a part that worries over worrying others (no doubt her entire family is frantic and also trying to remain calm), a part of her that already misses Elsewhere. This is similar to how she felt her first night of college when she slept in a room that did not yet feel like hers in a place that did not yet feel like home. Though unlike that time, she had not known who her person was and there is a small comfort in knowing that Juliet is here with her, even if she is still a stranger to her.

She looks up at the mural on the ceiling when Juliet starts to talk, not wanting the archer to catch her staring. She is trying to keep it casual––she doesn't want to freak Juliet out. Even if she knows that it is nearly impossible to scare off one’s match (or it was), she’s been burned far too many times to chance any mistakes now that she’s finally, finally, finally, stumbled into Juliet August. She steals a careful glance at the lounging woman and smiles to herself. It’s impossible for her to resist picturing what it would be like to curl up beside her and listen to her heartbeat. 'She's cute.'

When her eyes flick back down to the keys in front of her, she pictures a version of herself who isn’t so scared. A version of herself who would play symphonies for Juliet, fearlessly. She stares down at the keys and even debates just tapping on one. She even mentally runs through her five song repertoire to see if maybe there is one she would feel okay about playing, but ultimately Willow James just is not that brave (yet) and so she doesn’t dare even start. (The idea of failing in front of the other woman when she has already seen her falter fills her stomach with dread, heavy enough to sink her. No, she must aim to be perfect so that Juliet does not wonder how she got stuck with someone like Willow James.) ‘Someday,’ she insists, ‘Someday, I will be fearless and play a song for Juliet August.’ She even has the perfect one in mind already.

“Really? I cannot imagine princess Elise as shy––she just seems so,” she struggles for a word, “lively.” Because that really is a good descriptor for the princess, even if it leaves so much open to interpretation. “And she just has a way of capturing everyone’s attention.” Even though she is surprised to learn this, she does also find it inspiring. If princess Elise can overcome her fears, then why should Willow James not be able to? (She also notes that this is another difference between Elise and Dorothea. Dorothea Birdsong never shied away from the spotlight. She seemed to shine brightest in it, like it was made for her. That’s probably why she got every lead role in the school plays.)

She watches as the archer curls herself into a ball on the couch and realizes it might not have been wise to reveal that she had heard that particular rumor––or at least, she could have done it with more tact. The guilt starts to nibble at her and even if Juliet does not express offense or discomfort verbally, she does wonder what she must be thinking of Willow. ‘I bet she thinks you’re nosy.’

While Willow is (nosily) curious to know more about the stunt the other woman pulled when she was thirteen, she already knows she’s pushing up against boundaries far too early––even if by accident. She looks away from the redhead, deciding to stare out the window as a distraction from her own discomfort. She chews on the inside of her lip, thinking of how exactly she might be able to make this more fair, because already she has learned so much of Juliet August (without her consent) and Juliet August knows so little about Willow James. (Of course, there is a time and place for everything, and she only hopes this won’t make it weird.) She just doesn’t want her feeling like she’s the only one who’s exposed.

“Being a thirteen year old is powerful,” she furrows her brows, remembering how invincible and fragile she felt back then. How passionately she could hurt and how fiercely she felt. Everything was a big deal. Being a teenager is powerful. Those hormones are no joke. “I never faked my own death, but when I was fifteen I really wanted to run away and almost did.” In the end, she didn’t want to make her grandmas sad or any of her family members, really. Plus, the thought of having to figure out how to make it on her own terrified her so she turned right back around the second her hand hovered over the doorknob. “Um,” she swallows and pauses for a beat. (She knows she doesn’t have to do this. Juliet didn’t ask. Juliet might not even want to know. And still Willow wants to do this.) “It was pretty much the worst Tuesday of my life––my first girlfriend broke up with me,” a week after taking Willow’s first kiss and telling her she loved her, “and then my dad got arrested later that evening.”

She stares down at her hands while her leg bounces frantically underneath her skirts. ‘That was too much.’ She sighs and looks up, at first avoiding Juliet, but she does eventually let her eyes settle on the redhead. “That’s different, I know. I won’t pretend to know your life or hardships. I won't pretend I have a similar experience––we are quite litcherally from different worlds––but since secrets are being spilled…” she rolls her wrist as if that explains everything else. “I just figure you ought to get to know me a little, too.”

Then Willow straightens up as Juliet pulls a dagger from under her skirts and twirls it effortlessly. That’s easily the coolest thing she has ever seen and her mouth opens a little when the woman offers to teach her a dagger trick. This feels pretty unsafe, but if Juliet is offering… Well, she’ll keep her safe. Willow just knows it! She nods dumbly, her cheeks a storm of pink, and then gets up from the bench, almost trips, and scurries closer to Juliet. “Yeah, wow, teach me everything––Leif is going to be so jealous when I come back doing cool tricks with his knife. Can you juggle knives?”

 

[ellarose]

And so Juliet teaches dagger tricks, silently watching the other woman make her attempts once they've gotten started. She silently decides that Willow James is... interesting. And not just in the ways in that any other Other Sider would be interesting. As a person, she is timorous in some ways and yet remarkably fearless in others. The archer seldom encounters anyone like this, responding to the scatter of breadcrumbs regarding her own experience by sharing troubling experiences of her own. She does not comment on or delve any deeper into the story that was her disastrous life at thirteen years old, does not attempt to crack her open to judge her heart. To find her weaknesses. (...Contrary to what most people believe, Juliet is plainly aware of how little she gives. She has been told on numerous occasions that she is a terrible storyteller in reference to her concise manner of speaking. But she is selective about her words with good reason, having long ago learned her lesson when it comes to talk. Words can be used against her. They can get twisted beyond recognition until they lose their true meaning as they are whispered from one ear to the next. When she was honest, laying her whole heart out on the floor, no one in the kingdom saw her for who she was. Her bleeding heart was either judged, stomped on or neglected entirely. Never cradled or cared for. It was only a matter of time before she decided enough was enough and stopped explaining. Stopped apologizing and making excuses for people who did not deserve excuses. It's too excruciating to try-- so she promised herself that the right to her thoughts and stories must be earned first. For now, Grace and Millicent are the only ones. For now? She catches this thought and cautiously glances at the thread hanging between herself and Willow James. It doesn't mean anything. Well. Juliet is out of practice, anyway. These days she struggles to come up with words when it is necessary for her to use them. In the wood, she has gone for months without speaking a single word to anyone but Grace. And Grace is a fox.) Still. She sees that Willow James is considerate in the way she shifts the shine of the flaming hot spotlight away from Juliet, allowing her some time to compose herself. (There is something safe about her.) First girlfriends, her father, and the thoughts of running away. She acknowledges that she does not fully understand everything that Willow James has been through either (as the sorceress herself pointed out) but she does understand the desire to run. They have something in common there. When the archer catches their thread flicker with light in her peripheral she vehemently wishes that she hadn't.

It's when Juliet shows that she can indeed juggle daggers that princess Elise makes her entrance. (Not through the door, but through the enchanted, gold-framed mirror at the other end of the room. These passages in the castle are exclusively available to the royal family.) Her cheeks are rosy, her skirts and spirally, royal curls just the slightest bit out of place.

"Oh, marvelous. I had a feeling you two might be here." Elise bolsters a smile, managing to speak once she catches her breath. "Well. Either here or in the kitchens. You did miss the main course, after all."

"...Yes. Willow asked to see the second best view in the castle." Juliet supplies the facts with a nod, lowering her daggers. The first of course is the kitchens. The food. (Technically the music room is the third best room, or even the fourth-- but they'd have been spotted right away in the most scenic areas of the castle directly after an event such as this. There are balconies where they can see stunning views of all of Amoria. Although to be honest, those views are more or less on par with those they saw while riding on Lucky's back.)

"I see. The second best secluded view, I take it." Elise never loses her smile, despite the tiny wrinkles of worry and exhaustion between her eyebrows. Then she snorts as if something about all of this is funny to her. (A habit 'unfitting' for a princess, the queen would say. But her mother is not here.) "And instead of playing music you are playing with knives! Willow, I will have to give you a proper tour of the castle later. While our meeting at this moment in time feels like fate, I do regret that we've had to meet on such a chaotic night." She joins them on the sofa, then, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I have not yet told anyone that you come from the Other Side. It became apparent after all the, ah, excitement that any more news might keep the two of you from your important mission. I am afraid I cannot stop word from spreading, considering Lavinia already knows, but I can at least keep your presence in the castle a secret until you leave in the morning. Otherwise there is no telling how many questions you will be made to answer..." She purses her lips, undoubtedly recalling all of the questions she must have been made to answer after her announcement.

Juliet nods. While Elise's excitement is what initially what spread the gossip, it seems she understands now why this information ought to be kept quiet for now. Good.

"Ah! Before I go on... you must be tired. I have prepared a room for the both of you. We can talk more there." Elise rises from her seat, then, gesturing for them to follow her towards the mirror she came through earlier. "Willow, please take my hand." She offers her hands to Willow and Juliet both. This is because they need to be holding onto Elise in order to travel through the shortcuts that the mirrors provide. In a flash, they find themselves in one of the luxurious guest chambers. The first thing Juliet spots (or rather smells) is the delicious meal set up for them on the tiny dining area in the corner. She giggles seeing the archer's reaction. "Help yourselves to anything you like. I have left some coin in the wardrobe, too... there must be some items that you'd like to purchase in the kingdom tomorrow to prepare for your noble quest." She places her hands over her heart and sighs, as if she's daydreaming about undertaking a quest of her own. "I have also left a scroll detailing the most recent cases of the sickness for you to investigate."

"Thank you." Juliet dips in a small curtsey, resisting the urge to go directly to the food. "Congratulations on your engagement." (Ah. Of course, she only says this because it's polite... not because she feels that Elise might need to hear it from someone after the night she's had.)

"...I do hope I'm doing the right thing. In times such as these I truly feel that I must follow my heart." Princess Elise nods, appearing tired for the first time that evening. Juliet withholds her own opinions. (The part of her that was young once and in love once understands. Yes, Juliet might be the same age as Elise... but it has always been apparent that she grew up much faster than the princess.) "After tonight we may not see each other for quite a while... but it would set my heart at ease if you two heroines of love were in attendance on my wedding day. We have not settled on a date yet, but you will be the first to know when I do. I intend to see this through no matter what." She tucks a curl behind her ear, her blue eyes sparkling brighter than her dress with determination. "That said, it is only a matter of time before everyone will be wondering where I am again. Is there anything else you might need before I take my leave, Willow James? This is your first night in Amoria and I should like to see to it that all of your needs are met."

 

[starboob]

Juliet August is nothing short of interesting. There is a graceful elegance to how she handles the daggers, effortlessly tossing them up into the air, catching them, and moving them between her hands. To say that Willow is just impressed would be the understatement of the century, but it also goes without saying––her eyes have practically turned into the night sky with how they twinkle. (She has never met a woman like Juliet August before. She never would have even imagined that people like the archer exist outside of her storybooks and she certainly never would have guessed that someone who seems like they are from a storybook would be anchored to the end of her thread. In all her years of picturing who her person might be, she would not have dreamed of her being from the Other Side. An other sider. There’s nothing wrong with this––she trusts what the fates have in store for her, because they have always protected and watched out for her in one way or another. Not being what she had been dreaming of is just different and Juliet August is a good kind of different.)

It’s a good thing that when princess Elise makes her surprise entrance that Willow James is not holding one of the knives, because she jumps out of her seat when the woman announces herself so suddenly. (She already has enough knicks on her fingers from practicing the dagger trick as it is. At least injuries are universally attractive even if hers are probably still like paper cuts in comparison to what a real battle hardened hero might experience. Not that she’s looking forward to fighting and collecting battle scars––she’s terrified of that prospect and is naïvely hoping that she can ‘diplomatic solution’ her way out of any conflict. Of course to do that she will first need to learn how to not cower when ogres in the wood threaten to eat her…)

She settles some just in time to realize that princess Elise has come through the mirror on the wall. Immediately, the sorceress bolts out of her seat to check out the piece. Her eyes are as wide and as shiny as they had been watching the archer show off her tricks and the tiniest, “Oooooh,” escapes through her breath as she inspects it and even experimentally taps the glass. Solid. If she had to guess, it’s probably a custom enchantment set to a specific DNA signature or there is a passcode of sorts, like a personalized glyph. Very neat. (She wonders if the base spell is the same as the one she uses on her mirrorball keychain or if it’s something else entirely.) “This is so dope, dude. Your royal dudeness?” she muses, not even recognizing that she is speaking nonsense as she is completely taken by this magic mirror.

Still paying attention to the conversation behind her, Willow realizes that Juliet literally took her to the second best view in the castle. (Second best secluded view, according to the princess.) She isn’t sure whether or not to laugh so she settles on a signature smile as she turns back around and rejoins the women on the sofa. There’s something about the archer that is just so genuine that she cannot and does not think she missed the flirtations on purpose. It’s not out of the question, but for now she believes that the redhead is legitimately oblivious––more data is needed, but this is her working hypothesis for now. (Another point for Juliet August being cute.)

As much as she’d love to continue thinking about Juliet August undisturbed, the princess mentions that while she hasn’t let slip where Willow is from, it’s out of her hands since Lavinia Laurence knows. And girls like Lavinia Laurence never know how to mind their own business. The realization dawns on her that she’s going to have a lot of attention on her the next time she’s seen and all she can think is, ‘Oh gods.’ Her eyes widen in mild horror, her heart zips forward as she imagines all the questions she might have to field; all the taunts that could be sent her way; all the disappointed faces she might see when they realize that Willow James is not who she so boldly claimed to be. Her palms start to get uncomfortably moist as a chill trickles down from the top of her head and a heat creeps up her neck. (She’s so glad that her and Juliet are not at the hand holding stage yet, because this would be disgusting.)

Hoping she hasn’t paused for too long and let on that she’s a hero with anxiety, she rubs the back of her neck and nervously chuckles, “Dang, no worries. I guess the sooner people know, the sooner this will all cool off.” Though with girls who have petty long memories like Lavinia, she might not be able to count on it. (Now that she’s thinking about it more, Lavinia Laurence has some striking similarities to Kinsley Prescot––a stuck up snob who prides herself in always having the hottest piece of gossip to dish. Girls like that can only cling to relevance by being gossip girls. Blerg.)

The longer she thinks about the attention, however, the less she minds. Maybe it’s seeing the contemplative look on the princess’s face when she mentions the questions she’s had to field following the announcement, but Willow decides that if the spotlight on her takes some of the heat off of the princess then she can handle it. Besides, she’s pretty sure Juliet wouldn’t leave her alone to the wolves. (Even if she did earlier when she weaved over to the refreshment table.)

Then, before she even has time to fully process that she is going to be sharing a room with Juliet August, the princess is asking for Willow’s hand and pulling her through the enchanted mirror (!!!). When they land in a room as lavish and rich as the rest of the palace, Willow has to stick her hands out for balance as she recovers from the travel. (It’s almost exactly like traveling through her mirrorball––but slightly more wooshy. Yes, wooshy. That is absolutely the technical term… if you are Willow James.) She steps forward into the room, spinning around to take in everything and barely catching anything that princess Elise is saying––something about coins and the sickness, but that’s all she catches in her wonderstruck state.

When her eyes land on the bed, huge as it is, she notes that there is only one. One. Juliet and herself make up two separate people. There is one bed. Does this mean… Willow’s eyes widen again. Does this mean they’re going to share a bed? Is someone supposed to sleep on the floor? Is there maybe a secret second bed she doesn’t know about? Gah!! She has so many questions about this arrangement and she is too scared to ask at least half of them for fear of sounding like an even bigger uncool weirdo nerd than she already is.

Too overwhelmed thinking about sleeping arrangements, she sits herself down on one of the chairs in the dining area, angling so that she can drape one arm over the back of the chair as she stares at the bed (1). “I think you’re brave for defying expectations like that and following your heart,” Willow affirms, wanting the princess to know that she understands. Love is unexpected, after all, and the thread hanging between herself and Juliet is proof enough of that. “Love conquers all, princess. I think that, at the end of the day, it’s all we have and usually the choices we make under its influence are only for us to understand. It’s proof we’re not so rational as philosophers think.” The spirits certainly know that Willow has made questionable choices when she has convinced herself it was love and it wasn’t. It’s a powerful placebo drug and for as terrible as it can be, it’s not something she will ever give up on. She can’t. She’s seen good love; she knows it exists and it will exist for her. Of that, she is most certain (or delusional as Ryan once told her). “Anyway, you def deserve to be with someone who makes your heart sing. We all do, of course, and I especially wish you and Flynn the best.” (In some ways, Willow is saying what she wishes she could to Dorothea who definitely deserves better than King––or at least that one.) “I’m going to be working most diligently on this mission, I promise,” she offers a reassuring smile.

When the princess asks if she needs anything, Willow tilts her head to think on this for a moment. “I think… I think I’m good?” Yeah, so long as they circle back to Juliet’s tomorrow so that she can grab her personal belongings, she is fairly certain that she is set. “Oh, wait! If you could spare some paper, a pen, and a bottle––any bottle will work––that would be super duper.” As tired as she is, she can’t lose her thoughts to sleep and she needs to make sure she documents everything she has learned so she can send her findings to Sawyer. (Although, now that she’s thinking about it, will her message even make it to Sawyer? Even if she uses Sawyer’s personalized message glyph, what if the spell doesn’t work from this side? Huh, this is not something Willow James considered and she guesses she is about to find out.) “Oh, are there any restrictions or laws regarding dragons? My companion is a dragon and I imagine they’ll be back soon and I don’t want to startle the guards. They’re totally harmless.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet silently eats the meal provided for her while Elise speaks with Willow. (She can't resist it for any longer... and it is only practical to finish her food while it's still fresh and warm. She prefers eating here as opposed to at the banquet hall table, anyway, as it allows her to dip pieces of her bread in her creamy soup without worrying about prim and proper manners.) The princess agrees to the request for materials and then explains the laws surrounding dragons in Amoria-- which are fairly standard in the sense that so long as they're not used to burn down any residences, cause disruptions, or harm people, then there are not all too many restrictions on where a dragon can and cannot go. (Naturally these restrictions are tighter around the castle and the guards standing outside would not allow for a dragon they don't recognize to fly in past the gates.) "I will inform the guards that I am expecting a dragon and see to it that they make it safely to you." The princess promises with a little bob. "Everything will be super duper, dude." She giggles at the phrases as she repeats them. By the time she bids them farewell for the evening and passes again through the mirror as not to alert anyone of their presence within this guest chamber, Juliet has already finished her own dish. There is not even a scrap of what was once there to be seen. (...She was starving and it was delicious. The grilled fish melted in her mouth.) And now she needs to distract herself with another task before she can even consider swiping anything from Willow James's plate.

"I am going to take a bath." Juliet decides with a nod. "Make sure to eat all you can. We may be able to stop by the market tomorrow, depending on how much time we have... but food of this quality will be harder to come by on our travels." With that said, she peers into the wardrobe and impartially selects a white nightdress from one of the hangers. Then she disappears into the side door that leads into the bathroom. It's just as extravagant as any other room in the castle and the large, circular bath looks particularly inviting. Juliet pulls on the string hanging down from the iridescent fountain on the wall, which activates it and sends a steady flow of warm water trickling down into the bath. Everything sparkles with an iridescent sheen and is covered in delicate roses and pearls. This design is inspired by the neighboring sea kingdoms. The queen herself came from the sea, having had to sacrifice her tail for legs when her marriage to the king of Amoria was arranged. (With her sense of responsibility, there's no telling how severely she's going to react to Elise's decision.) That said, a number of the guest chambers in the castle are essentially rooms just like this, filled entirely by giant pools containing underwater accommodations, designed specifically for the comfort of the queen's family and their mermaid guests. She and princess Elise snuck away to explore them once when they were children.

While Juliet undresses, her hand grazes the red crystal she wears around her neck. It gleams once, indicating the arrival of a new letter. Oh. (She always wears it underneath her clothes, as not to draw any attention to it. Biting her lip, her gaze flickers cautiously to the door. From now on she'll be traveling with a companion. Best that she do it now while she has the privacy.) She scatters some of the provided rose petals into the bath and then sinks herself into it with a sigh. (The warm water is heaven against her skin, soothing her achey muscles. The floral scent nearly causes her to lose herself in a daydream of the flower fields of her childhood-- but no, there is business to attend to.) Once she's settled, she takes the crystal into the palm of her hand and closes her eyes. 'I'm listening.' With this thought, the crystal hovers in the air and glows a faint red that illuminates her corner of the room. Then it projects a text that scrawls across the wall, like calligraphy over stationery. 'Dear Juliet,' All of the letters start this way. 'I needed to take action and seek you out at last... before I give him another chance he does not deserve. I cannot go on like this.'

The letter continues in this same vein, detailing a woman's woes with a man who is continually unfaithful to her before pleading with her for help. They live in a small town by the sea and the archer makes a note of this for whenever she is in that area again. Douglas Abberton. Once she has the name of her target, she closes her palm around the crystal to erase the words and cut the glow.

...Juliet is something of a myth to those who don't know her personally. Many seek out information about her identity in dark pubs and alleyways and-- if they're desperate enough-- travel a long way to visit Millicent's cousin, Nessa, so that they might have their messages relayed to her this way. She seeks out these targets at her own convenience, usually when she is near the area detailed in the message. There is no telling how long it will take before she finds this Douglas Abberton.

With that matter settled, Juliet eventually finishes her bath and pads back into the room with her crystal pendant tucked safely beneath her nightgown. She sits herself down at the vanity and struggles to runs a comb through her tangled wet hair, turning in the chair so she faces Willow James instead of the mirror. (She doesn't catch onto the fact that a few of the flower petals from her bath have gotten caught in her red locks.) "...The bath is ready if you would like one, too." She tilts her head, "Have you received the materials that you requested?"

The archer doesn't ask what they are for, although she is somewhat curious. The indication is clearly a message in a bottle. (...Who does she intend to write to? Is there perhaps a method to sending messages to the Other Side?) However, Juliet decides not to pry and simply continues down her list of practical things to discuss as she wrestles the comb through her most stubborn tangles. "...You may take the bed tonight. I do not mind sleeping on the floor." She nods. What else, what else? Right-- the dragon. "Are there any arrangements we should make for Lucky? Where do they like to sleep?" Grace likes to sleep at her feet. (But she will be sleeping in Juliet's bed in the wood alone tonight. Much like Juliet, though, the fox is content to keep to herself from time to time.) She knows that some companions are very particular about their routines, however, and liable to act out when faced with unfamiliarity. In a dragon's case it is only best to be prepared.

 

[starboob]

When Juliet steps out of the bathroom and sets herself up at the vanity, Willow is rolling up her letter to Sawyer and sticking it down the neck of an empty champagne bottle. (Earlier she sent a tester message to Sawyer and confirmed that the message portals still work-ish from this side. -Ish, because the other sorceress’s response came back two and three-quarters minutes later with the edges of her note singed. Singed messages aren’t common and usually are a sign of a poor connection, but Willow considers this pretty good since it could have been worse––like explosively worse. This just means she’ll have to update Sawyer sporadically and only with the most pertinent information––no long essays on Juliet's... everything.) She circles her finger around the bottle until a white halo with a blue glow appears around it, then she scrawls out a few runes that tell the spell where to send the message––it’s sort of like identifying Sawyer's address, but these personalizations ensure that it reaches only her. Once the message has been addressed, she snaps her fingers (this isn’t actually necessary for the spell to work and is just Willow being Willow) and the halo closes around the note, disappearing with a shower of sparkles and a tiny little bli-op. With that matter settled, she shifts her attention to Juliet and admittedly gets distracted watching her comb through her tresses, imagining a day when she might get to run her fingers through her hair.

Ahhhh! She clears her throat and once again refocuses. (How is she going to do any hero work alongside Juliet with all these fantasies that are inspired just by looking at her? Could her person be, like, less distracting? No? Okay.) “Lucky will be fine by the fireplace,” she nods toward the wolf-sized dragon who is already curled up and purring by the flame. (Dragons don’t usually purr, but Lucky has ever since they took feline forms for most of Willow’s childhood.) The scales closest to the flame are changing colors, mirroring the warm orange flickers while the scales facing the rest of the room remain their usual stilled twilight colors.

“Anyway,” she stands up and puts her hands on her hips, like she’s going to scold the redhead. It’s not that intimidating coming from Willow James, however, and even she can’t keep a straight face about it––her grin is wide and lopsided. “Juliet August, if you think I am going to let you sleep on the floor as thanks for saving me from an ogre you are wrong. The bed’s ginormous. We don’t even have to touch.” She thinks she’s being nice saying this, respecting boundaries and all, and in five seconds she will panic and worry that Juliet now thinks she doesn’t want to touch her. (She does. Oh gods she does. She wants to cuddle her so badly, she might explode in a few days if it doesn’t happen.) “I don’t even take up that much space. I just curl into a ball and then don’t move for six to eight hours. Besides, if we're about to leave the lap of luxury tomorrow, you might as well get the best rest you can.” She plucks a nightgown from the wardrobe and heads into the bathroom, but not before saying, “You better not be on the floor when I get out. I mean, like, unless you really like floors. Then I'm sorry for assuming, but seriously. You don't need to sleep there on my behalf. I'm gucci.”

***​

The weight of ‘some coin’ hits the sorceress’s thigh as she tries to keep up with Juliet, her own curiosities, and Lucky as they wind through Amoria’s bustling market. From all sides vendors are calling to her, asking if she would like to sample some of this or some of that; others try to drag her into their stalls with the promise of telling her fortune; and if it’s not the vendors themselves trying to nab a new customer, then it’s the smells and sights pulling the other sider in. (At some point, she almost trips over herself trying not to trip over a stone that resembles a frog only to trip over an actual frog in the process. She learns a lot of new Froggish swears thanks to that.) It’s a lot for Willow James to take in all at once and it’s extremely exciting––though for as different as Amoria is, it’s quite similar to Elsewhere in certain regards. It’s not just the similarities between the people––like the barely clothed dancing man in the streets or the group of totally not mobsters sitting outside the taverns––but even some of the establishments remind her of home. The shady pawn shop they pass by, for example, has a strikingly similar energy as the totally cursed thrift store downtown. These subtle similarities are comforting to the other sider who has already been feeling homesick and she tries not to think about the fact that she doesn't know when she'll be back.

As they wind through the streets, she pulls her cape tighter around her shoulders and scurries closer to Juliet, practically bumping into her like the fool she is. (Underneath Willow's cape she wears her usual other sider garb, having sent Lucky to retrieve her things from underneath Juliet’s bed earlier in the morning. They only had an hour or so to get ready as news quickly spread that Willow is from the Other Side and when people tried to find Juliet, assuming the other sider would be with her, it became apparent that both heroines were still at the castle. At least they had Lucky to help them make a sneaky escape.) Her staff is still holding its shape as a bracelet for the time being and Lucky has finally calmed down enough to perch on the top part of her overstuffed (bottomless) backpack. At present, they are off to find someone who might be able to work on Willow's dagger. While she initially hadn't thought that that would be worth their time, and almost said so, she remembered that the dagger is from this side. It's therefore possible that while the people on her side couldn't do anything, there might be someone here who can. (She is visibly excited about this prospect as seen by the pep in her step.)

“Uh, hey, Juliet,” she absently tugs on her sleeve, then quickly lets go when she realizes she’s maybe invaded her personal space. “Could you, um, do the talking for me? You can just say that there are Starbursts stuck in the canister and that my idiot brother had another idiot carve runes into the handle.” Completely useless runes, too. Willow might not have been so mad about the antique being rune'd had he done something useful like, place a trainer glyph on the hilt to help with throwing aim. But, nope. He instead added some runes that turn the tip into a laser pointer because he “thought it would be funny” and “it’s almost like a lightsaber now!” Willow doesn't really get angry, but when he announced that? She saw bright red and couldn't even speak to Leif for a full week. (Ah, shoot. Thinking about him is making her miss home again.)

"Did you read the scroll princess Elise left for us?" she asks, deciding to change the subject from her idiot brother (who she misses). "The way she's outlined it, it seems like the cases are rising exponentially." And it's honestly overwhelming to think that they are tasked with solving it all. "How do you usually handle these assignments?"

 

[ellarose]

The idea of once again being free to travel someplace where no one will recognize her face encourages Juliet to weave briskly through Amoria's bustling streets. Although she blends into the crowd in the market much better than she does in the castle, she still wears her hood drawn over her head to hide her recognizable red hair. Considering how chaotic their morning in the castle had been, it is only a matter of time before news of the Other Sider's arrival spreads through the whole kingdom. (The archer already overhears some passerby's whispering about princess Elise's announcement. While some comments range from judgmental to outright disapproving, she has also heard many younger girls swoon over it, thinking her actions 'admirable' and 'romantic'. Princess Elise has won the hearts of many people in the kingdom and will also have lots of support, even if it doesn't come directly within the castle's walls.) "Quit yer yapping! Back to work!" A woman waves a rolled up newspaper at a cluster of gossiping girls who giggle and scatter like a flock of startled birds. Juliet shakes her head and focuses her attention forward again. (Always better to look forward as opposed to backward, anyway. For her own peace of mind. However, she has to remind herself on occasion that she's traveling with a companion now and occasionally checks to ensure that Willow is still following behind her.) Outside of an incident with a frog it seems that she is keeping up with her just fine. That's good. It will be important that she be fast when they start training in the wood.

"...Yes, of course." Juliet agrees to the request and commits Willow's words to memory. The grave affliction of the Starbursts, the unwanted runes carved into the handle. While the weapon is in dire need of repair, the archer is confident that she knows just the person for the task. The route to the forge eventually leads them down a steep, secluded alleyway with considerably less people out and about. "Tread carefully here." It warrants a fair warning, she thinks, considering she has witnessed Willow James fall over or almost fall over a few times since they met. Juliet has walked these roads long enough to have memorized which footholds in the cobblestone will help her descend without falling and twisting her ankle. (That happened once when she was ten, running away from a vendor she had stolen a delicious piece of fish bread from. She sometimes wonders what would have happened if she managed to escape back then, if he never found her... ah. Again. Forward, not back.) "As you can imagine, these roads are especially treacherous in the rain." No path in Amoria is completely flat or straight-- all of the roads are hilly and winding.

When Willow asks about the scroll, Juliet retrieves the map she'd marked up from her cloak when they make it to the bottom of the incline and blinks at it. (Ah. It is covered in a haphazard array of red x's... and something clicks.) "Oh. I did drink quite a bit of champagne last night... I suppose I am guilty of writing messy x's as well." She observes. Now the sorceress's words from the night before make much more sense to her. Blushing, she awkwardly scratches her cheek. "I often seek out the locations with the most dire cases and then branch outward from there. I take care of those I happen to pass en route to these locations, or if I happen to cross a pack of Lightless in the wood. The afflictions spread faster than I can fix them... therefore my work is never ending." Then she draws her finger across the wood and stops to point at the kingdom illustrated by floating waterfalls and the sea. "I will need to stop to fetch Grace and my belongings in the wood. Once that is done we will travel here, to the kingdom of Okeanos. Their Lightless have taken on an aquatic variant that no one has ever seen before... the queen herself traveled there to assess the situation and sent word insisting that I travel there at once."

The archer rolls up her map and tucks it away in her cloak again, continuing to walk along the path. "Can you swim? If not, I will do my best to teach you in the lakes as we travel."

The roads gradually become shadier and less populated the more they walk. At last Juliet gestures for Willow to follow her towards the forge she has been seeking out, which is squeezed unassumingly between a small pub and an abandoned building with boarded windows. Everything about it communicates that this is a widely unknown location that must be sought out specifically.

The inside of the dim, fire lit shop is much larger than what the outside implies. Magnificent weaponry and armor of all kinds hang from the ceiling and all along the walls (whoever designed this place might not have thought much of the safety hazards) there are some shelves containing an assortment of other steely, magical items with a variety of mysterious purposes. It's chaotic and messy, but also much like a work of art in that it has an undeniable charm to it. (Many of the archer's favorite places are like this. Millicent's cottage is also covered in shelves like these, overflowing with strange potions and tomes.) A loud 'clang, clang, clang' echoes from the blacksmith's hammer in the back. Juliet lowers her hood now, deeming it safe to do so, and leans herself nonchalantly against the counter to wait. "Hey, Nix..."

"Red! It's been a long time." The blacksmith whirls around, revealing herself to be a woman around their age with flaxen hair. She enthusiastically waves the blazing, ember-red sword she's working on in the air. (Again, with no regard whatsoever for safety. It is really a wonder that this woman is still alive.) "The blades always make me think of your hair when they're like this. 'Cause they're, you know..."

"Red." Juliet supplies the answer flatly, noticeably less enthusiastic. She hears this spiel every single time.

"That's right! Red and scathing." Nix giggles with a snort, completely unfazed. Her grin shows off her overbite as she dunks the burning blade into oil and steam billows around it. As she waits for the blade to cool, she wipes a gloved hand over her splotchy overalls. "So? To what do I owe the pleasure? Looks like you brought a friend today! Gee, I didn't know you had friends, Red." Juliet looks especially unimpressed at this one. (She and Nix have been friends since they were kids. Their lives have taken turns where they are essentially friends from a distance. Nix doesn't know what goes on in Juliet's life and Juliet doesn't know what is going on in Nix's life either. They are both content like this, though, which makes it... easy.) "I'm teasing, Jules."

"Of course you are." Juliet nods imperiously, perhaps teasing back in her own subtle way, before glancing over at Willow with an encouraging nod to unveil her dagger. "This is Willow. She has a dagger with an, ah..." Her brow furrows and she lowers her voice to lend the situation the gravity it entails. "It has nearly been ruined by grave, weapon-destroying magics... known as the 'Starburst'. There are also unwanted runes etched into the hilt which she would like removed."

"I see, I see. The hilt I can fix. That's simple enough." Nix begins tempering the blade she's been working on and wears a contemplative frown while considering the rest. "Can't say I've ever heard of 'Starburst' magics before. Sounds awfully serious, though. I can try to take a look at it, though... do some reading on curses to see if I can cleanse it." She glances at Willow, then. "Can you show me your dagger? Does it burn to the touch? And 'Starburst'... hm. Gosh. It doesn't emit any explosive energies, does it?"

 

[starboob]

Having been left behind by Juliet twice now, Willow has been extra mindful to keep her distractions in check––even if that is so very difficult when everything around her demands her immediate attention. Her rich chocolate curls bounce with each turn of her head, quickly checking everything out before turning back to watch for Juliet; only on occasion does Lucky need to bat her head with their tail whenever she is at risk of losing her. Though that doesn’t seem entirely necessary when Willow catches Juliet looking over her shoulder every now and again, presumably to make sure that she hasn’t lost her companion. This small consideration does soothe her prior hurt, knowing that the other woman is now making the effort to look out for her. Though she tries not to get too excited over this. Like, it would be sad if Willow were to get rosy over something as basic as being considered. That should be the bare minimum requirement in caring for your Willow James.

When Juliet warns her of the roads, Willow nods and starts following the archer’s exact path, regardless of how stable the other parts of the road appear. Even with how cautious she is, she still almost stumbles when the woman reveals how she interpreted Willow’s comment about writing to exes and it being messy from the night before. She can’t help her smile or the endeared look in her eyes when she realizes how earnest the sentiment is, with Juliet's little pink-cheeked scratch. “Oh, er,” she chuckles nervously, unsure of how to broach this with tact and non-judgment. “That’s not… I meant ‘ex’ as in a former flame or lover or almost. Not the letter,” she holds up her arms in an ‘X’ as if this will help bridge the connection. “Sometimes I get caught up in the past when I’m drunk and it’ll look as rosy as it felt and I’ll want it back even if I know those people aren't for me.” In a couple of cases they didn't even deserve Willow––taking advantage of her naïvety at fifteen, thinking she’d always forgive them if their apology came with a big enough gesture, and just generally taking her for granted. (One in particular should have been cut off, but when the skater girl came back into her life with the audacity to ask her how to get her person back, having lost her in the same way she lost Willow… Well, she should have said no and sent the skater home, but she saw change reflected in those stupidly hazel eyes and begrudgingly agreed. Willow is a sucker for a happy ending, after all, and while she hadn’t planned on letting the skater back into her life so completely, when two ding-dongs work together to help one get the girl, that forges a bond that cannot be broken even with the sharpest steel.)

Anyway, she listens intently as Juliet explains how she usually operates, nodding along and trying to contain her excitement over the fact that they are headed to Okeanos after their stop in the wood. This is a kingdom she has heard of, but not from books on the Other Side. She heard of it through her mermaid friends before they left and took the ocean with them; she wonders if they went back to Okeanos or if they just retreated to Marianas. “Yes, I used to swim with mermaids when I was a kid.” She thinks to mention that she knows of a few spells that will allow them to breathe underwater, but ultimately she's too nervous about her ability to actually cast that she decides to wait and see what Juliet’s solution is. “Maybe we can still practice at the lakes,” because it could be romantic, “It has been a while since the ocean visited my grandmas’ shore, so I might be rusty.”

As they approach the forge, Lucky perks up and places their front feet on Willow’s head, leaning forward to get a better look. She can tell that their wings are starting to twitch and, knowing her companion, she suspects they’re rearing to launch, so she grabs them from her head before they can, hugging the dragon close to her chest. Lucky is not pleased, as noted by their squirming, but they settle after a few seconds and hang limply in her arms, contenting themselves with just looking around, mirroring the sorceress's wonderment.

“Woah…” Willow whispers to herself as she admires all of the clutter of armor and enchanted pieces hanging dangerously from the ceiling. The mess doesn’t bother her and neither does the danger of standing under all the heavy and pointy objects that could easily take her out. If Juliet trusts this place then so does she.

Then when the blacksmith turns around, Willow swallows hard. She's. Wow. 'Arms.' Yeah, those are all of her thoughts on the blacksmith who looks like she could end the sorceress's life with a mere flick to her forehead. Somehow, despite her melted gay brain, she's still able to note the familiar way that Juliet greets Nix and their back and forth banter. (Immediately she makes sure to never call the archer Red as she seems far less keen on this nickname than Jules.)

However, all of Willow’s observations are halted when Juliet starts describing Starbursts as this dire affliction. ‘Oh. Geez.’ Her cheeks immediately flame at the second misunderstanding (that she is aware of) between herself and Juliet. While juggling Lucky in one arm and reaching for the knife with the other, she simultaneously reminds herself that she cannot assume the archer will always understand her. “Well, um… While Starbursts have definitely ruined the knife, it’s… it’s not a curse? So that’s a plus?” Once she has wrestled the knife free, she twists the pommel and pulls on it to reveal about a quarter inch of the canister used to hold poisons. It’s hard to see the Starbursts that are coating the inside, but this is as far as she can remove the canister. “Starbursts are a candy with a texture similar to caramel or taffy… It’s sticky and stretchy and––” She snaps her fingers suddenly, remembering that she actually has a pack on her. With her staff attached to her wrist, she simply twirls her hand through the air and the rectangular tube of candy appears in her hand in a shower of glitter. She had been saving this in case of low blood sugar while on her travels, but she decides sparing a couple squares now won’t be a detriment. (Besides, she has an entire bag of Halloween candy in her pack. You know, just in case.) She tears open the wrapper and hands Nix a lemon square and then fishes through the stack to find a strawberry flavored one for Juliet, remembering how quickly she devoured the strawberries at the banquet. (Besides, everyone knows that the pink Starbursts are the best and Juliet deserves the best.) “Um, that’s a wrapper on the outside. I guess it’s technically edible, but it will be unpleasant to eat and the candy is much better sans wrapper.”

“Anyway, the Starbursts fused together with the inside of the hilt and the canister can’t be pulled out more than this––I even tried to get my half-giant friend to help, but he couldn’t pry it apart without fearing he’d break it. The antique experts also refused to work on it, because they didn’t want to further the damage,” she explains, handing the weapon to Nix for her to inspect. “It is a sensitive object with magical properties and that’s why it’s not as simple as soaking it in a solution to dissolve the candy. This is further complicated by the fact that it’s an elven weapon and there aren’t too many elves on––” she stops herself, unsure if she should mention where she’s from, but then she remembers the familiarity between the two women and decides that Nix might be safe. “On my side in Elsewhere.”

“Elf magic can be particular,” she continues, her voice lowering some, like she's sharing a secret. In some ways, she does feel like she is as there is a stigma against elves on her side and she isn’t sure if it’s the same here––her grandma has even told her to claim that she’s part fae instead. "It can be highly reactive if the right conditions are not met. How familiar are you in working with elf magic, Nix?"

 

[ellarose]

Oh. Starbursts are not a curse but a... candy? Juliet pushes herself up against the counter to get a better look as Willow snaps her fingers and procures some of these 'candies' with her magic. (While doing so she cannot help but notice a few similarities and differences between the Other Sider's and Millicent's magic styles. The witch of the wood always moves her hands in snappy, hurried motions and the glitter that scatters from her summonings are reminiscent of aimless fireflies.) However, these thoughts cease quickly when she is presented with one of the tiny square candies. It is pink and covered in thin paper. (The paper should not be consumed, according to Willow. She makes a note of this.) Hm. It reminds the archer of a tiny present box. She taps gently at the sides, discovering that it feels hard and smooth. (When she holds it closer to her face for inspection she realizes it smells sweet. Almost like strawberries, but just a bit off.) It's so unfamiliar. Her heart races at the very thought of trying it.

"Well, would ya look at that. It's just candy!" Nix repeats, bewildered and amused all at once as she examines the yellow piece that Willow offered her. She pinches it between her fingers and flips it over once. Then she snorts and gives a hearty laugh. "Here I was thinkin' it was some kinda curse! I'd ask if you were teasing me, Jules, but I know you don't mess around when it comes to food." The blacksmith glimpses Juliet to discover her lost in her own little world observing the candy. Then her gaze pans meaningfully over to Willow. "You'd best keep those hidden. She's a fiend for sweets."

But why is it called a Starburst? Juliet is deep in thought (rightfully so) and so it completely flies over her head that Nix is talking about her. The candy is not star-shaped. And it's not going to burst in her mouth, is it? That is one of the few reasons why she hesitates to try it right away. The name holds an ominous connotation to it-- it sounds outright destructive. This is why she thought it was a curse. (Especially with the context that they destroyed a weapon.) Then again, flaming red cakes are not particularly spicy. So maybe this is the same thing. Perhaps whoever it was who named the candy gazed upon the stars while eating it for the first time? No, it still doesn't make sense to her. She supposes she'll ask Willow for elaboration later. She squints at the candy, sniffs it once, and slowly begins to peel the paper back. Wow. The candy itself is just as striking a shade of pink as the wrapper is.

"Alright, I hear you." Nix, meanwhile, has shifted her attention away from the candy to focus instead on the blade as Willow goes into her explanation of what happened. The tilts it in her hand and squints at it under the light. "Yeah, this material... I was gonna say..." She muses, studying the blade with all the intense focus of a weapon enthusiast. Then she snaps out of it in time to catch the part about the other side. Rather than gasp and flail around (like princess Elise did) or corner her with questions (like Lavinia) the blacksmith has a better hold of her composure. She simply cocks her head to the side and gives Willow a second look, as if she didn't pay enough attention the first time around and somehow missed a telltale sign that she should've picked up on about the sorceress's origins. "The Other Side. So you've come a long way from home, huh. And you..." She glances at Juliet, who is still deeply considering putting the candy in her mouth. "Brought her here of all places? Why?"

"Because you're the best in Amoria." Juliet supplies automatically, never parting her gaze with the strawberry flavored candy. Then, at long last, she places the 'Starburst' on her tongue and closes her mouth around it. It's sweet. And to her relief, it does not shock her with a 'bursting' sensation. Reluctantly, she begins to chew.

"That's right." Nix blushes, grins and rubs the back of her neck with faux modesty, soaking it up. (...Yeah, she's absolutely impressed that the only Other Sider to visit Amoria in their lifetime is standing there in the flesh, visiting her shop right now.) The blacksmith leans across the counter towards Willow and lowers her voice as if she's letting her in on a secret. "Okay, but the best in Amoria is actually my beautiful wife, Hazel. She's trained in villages with elves before, so I know for a fact she'd be able to help me repair your dagger here." Then she traces the hilt of the blade. "There's just one problem. This material here is incredibly rare. In order to replace it properly, I need to restock it first. The Lightless cases have been impacting shipments from the other kingdoms and villages as of late." She breathes out a big sigh and rubs her temples.

"It will be a while before we return to Amoria." Juliet rejoins the conversation, having now assessed that the pink Starburst candy is 'pretty good'. The yellow candy is slightly less good, but still refreshing enough to suffice should she crave something sweet. (And yes, she successfully stole Nix's piece in the time that she went into her explanation.) "If we pass through an elven village on our travels we may be able to find the proper materials ourselves." The archer glances at Willow. "Is that all right with you? It may be a while before your dagger is repaired, but..."

"You're traveling together outside of Amoria? And is this your only weapon, Willow?" Nix squints with something like concern in her eyes, looking from the ruined dagger to the duo.

"...To my knowledge." Juliet offers, glancing quizzically at the sorceress. Given she did not understand what a Starburst is, she knows better than to answer for Willow. (Although she did say that it is uncommon for those on the Other Side to openly carry weapons. Because it breaks 'several laws'.) Willow James does not strike her as the sort to willingly break the law... this is evidenced even further by her concerns in regards to where dragons are permitted to land. "Unless the Starbursts are weapons as well as candy." She tries to joke. (Although she hopes there is no truth to this statement considering she has now eaten two of them.)

"You in the market for something new, then?" Nix turns specifically to Willow, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. "You ought to get yourself something to defend yourself with if you're traveling through the wood. Especially with the Lightless running around lately." Then the blacksmith beams and gestures towards the surplus of pointy weapons currently hanging above their heads. "Made most of these beauties myself. Got some battle axes, elemental swords, normal swords, enchanted maces... anything strike your fancy?"

 

[starboob]

Willow cannot believe her ears when Nix reveals that she has a wife. Not only that, but her wife is also a blacksmith. By process of deduction, this means they are blacksmith wives and if that’s not the greatest thing that Willow has ever heard, then she doesn’t know what is. (Okay, the actual greatest thing she’s ever heard is either Juliet calling her funny the night before or, maybe, Carmilla le Roux asking for Willow’s input on a new spell. Both compliments could cause her to pass out if she were to think about them for too long so it might be a tie.) The thought of two strong, powerful women being married is ugh, to put it poetically. She sighs wistfully and steals a glance at Juliet (who seems to be working on Nix’s piece of candy now) and the thread hanging between them. Perhaps that will be herself someday. (Actually, she knows it will be, because Juliet’s already strong and powerful from what she’s observed––knowing how to both take down ogres and snobby rich girls––and Willow… Well, she’s getting there. On both fronts.) The champion of love is so distracted thinking of the weapon wives (and trying to peek behind Nix to see if she can catch a glimpse of Hazel) that she almost misses the part about the difficulties obtaining the necessary materials to fix the hilt. She also almost misses the suggestion that they might pass through an elven village. (Like, a real ducking elven village. She’s always wanted to visit one of the clans, but grandma Elva is no longer welcome in hers and interacting with city elves just isn’t the same. Grandma Elva calls them, “Out of touch stinkheads.”)

“Mhm, that’s gucci,” Willow nods, forgetting that the Gucci name probably doesn’t exist on this side and, if it does, it might not have the same connotation anyway. “I’ve already been waiting years to find someone who would even be willing to take a serious look at the dagger, so what’s a little longer when there’s a whole future ahead, you know?” She grins good naturedly and spins around to look at all the various weapons scattered around the forge before even glimpsing at the ones hanging right above her head. Before she strays too far from the counter, she places the rest of the Starburst pack down on it and pretends it’s some absent task. However, she’s really just trying to see how many, if any, will be left when she gets back. The only test here is to see if the redhead will eat the orange ones, because everyone knows orange sucks and anyone who eats them happily is not to be trusted. (She still remembers how scandalized she was when she learned that Ryan unironically enjoyed orange flavored candies. She should have taken that as the sign it was and ran. That would have spared her so much heartbreak.)

She tilts her head back to look at all the pointies, gulping, and absently letting Lucky escape from her hands. (The dragon mostly just sniffs around the shop, but they do knock down a few items with their tail and sneeze into the actual forge. Ah, at least that was already on fire?) This is like standing under all the pots and pans in the kitchen back home, except way more dangerous. Despite her lingering worry that she might meet a gruesome fate if Lucky sneezes even one more time, she still manages to laugh at Juliet’s joke. (Willow has already decided she likes Juliet’s humor––she’s even funny when she isn’t trying to be, like when she stole her strawberry from her plate.) “Starbursts aren’t a weapon, but...” An idea seems to come to Willow as her sentence trails off into her thoughts, imagining what a spell named after this candy could look like and the list of potential effects depending on caster preference. ‘Why didn’t I think of this sooner?’ Already, she’s thinking of a few combinations of runes and geometric patterns to form a glyph that could aptly be named Starburst.

Finally, returning back to the forge (at least mentally), she thinks about what weapon might make the most sense for a sorceress. She waffles between perhaps another dagger or trying something entirely new (and cool) like an axe. Peering over at the blacksmith and the archer, she decides it’d be better for her to get an expert opinion as weapons are clearly not her forte. Then, deciding that Nix is probably a trustworthy person since she is both an acquaintance of Juliet’s and has a blacksmith wife who trained with elves, Willow swipes her hand over her bracelet, pulling the piece off her wrist so that it can transform into a full six foot staff. (The top looks as though it has been warped and bent into an ornate cage of sorts that holds a smooth citrine crystal streaked with cracks that resemble lightning.) “Magic would be––is my go to for fights,” she quickly corrects, even if it feels weird to say, but she’s got to speak it into existence, right? Not that she wants to speak fights into existence, but it is true that this quest they’re on will involve fighting even if her experience is zilch and she needs ten years of combat training (at least). “Hence the dagger being my only weapon. Anything one-handed would be best for me…”

The blacksmith considers this for a moment and then beckons Willow and Juliet towards the back of the forge, taking them to a sizable room that is clearly meant to test weapons with all the targets and wooden dummies lying about. (Okay, just how big is this place?) Since Willow expresses interest in something ranged, Nix starts her with an axe and then almost promptly nixes that idea after the sorceress impressively almost hits both Juliet and Nix who were standing behind her. They try some knuckle knives, but Willow can’t even hit the training dummy without feeling bad and like she’s, “hurting someone on purpose.” (Because somehow the other weapons scream nonviolence.) She tries other daggers out, but ultimately feels like she’s betraying the one she brought (Nix seems to be understanding of this sentiment). So, finally, the sorceress is paired with a one-handed sword––a normal one, since she has enchantments covered.

With that settled, they leave ‘some coin’ (Willow still cannot get over how much coin the princess left for them as the amount could easily change her family’s life back home), and Willow warns Nix that the next time they’re back, she’s going to want full deets on how she met Hazel and their epic romance. The sorceress also isn’t able to stop herself and she hugs the blacksmith before they depart. (She also hugged princess Elise earlier before they flew out the window of the guest room. She has yet to hug Juliet August and she is desperate to, but their first hug needs to be special.)

The rest of the market visit is hurried (or it feels hurried with all the stimulus), but it does end with Willow stuffing her mouth full of a savory morning bun. She hadn’t realized how long it’d been since she had a proper meal until her jaw started to tingle and her mouth started to water when she put the pastry to her lips.

Before she knows it, they’re past the gates of Amoria and the pastry is long gone and the crumbs have all been claimed by Lucky. While Willow is tempted to pull out her sword and admire it (Nix truly is an artist), she also understands that the weapon is not a toy, so she resists and settles her hand on the pommel and imagines a scenario wherein which she slashes through some baddies to save a damsel in distress. (Not necessarily Juliet, because she can’t imagine the redhead needing saving, but she does imagine Juliet swooning over her heroics.) Though it would seem that Willow’s fantasy might have leaked into reality when a blood curdling scream rips through the air a short distance ahead of them (Amoria is not even that far behind them). It’s quickly followed by a woman screaming, “Help!”

‘Oh, crud. You’re a hero now, Willow, this means you.’

 

[ellarose]

With a pack restocked with goods (and a stomach full of breakfast... as well as every flavor of Starburst candy) the weight Juliet carries on her back indicates that it's finally time for them to take their leave from Amoria. And she couldn't be happier about that. Despite everything she's carrying, her footsteps become lighter the closer they take her to the gates. Nearly there. The kingdom will be in all sorts of disarray because of the princess's announcement (her perceived involvement in it) and Willow's status as an Other Sider being revealed. Even as she travels through the shadows, these streets have always accompanied the unnerving sensation that her every move is being watched. (Usually it is. Everyone has something to say about her upbringing, or how she reacted, or how she died, or how she came back, or anything about everything afterwards that marked the very beginning of this mess.) Ghosts of memories she would rather forget linger in the corner of the market square, at the flower shop front, by the fountain. The uneven cobblestone lanes beneath her feet is a reminder of the way it cut into her back the night she...

This is why it is better that Juliet leaves Amoria. How is she meant to keep her resolve to move forward when everything she sees reminds her of the past? She can no longer gaze around these streets with the same wide-eyed wonder that Willow James does. (How does the kingdom look from her perspective? She is a bit curious, though she refrains from asking. She can vaguely remember her ten-year-old self's awe when Lara took her into the kingdom for the first time. Every building standing tall like a work of art, the stalls smelling of delicious food. Lara noticed a mother holding hands with her children as Juliet struggled to keep up with her strides and awkwardly mirrored the mother's actions, grabbing her hand so that she wouldn't get lost in the crowd. Juliet argued with being coddled like a baby, but... she thought that meant something. It doesn't matter. The last thing she wishes to do is talk about Amoria. They're leaving now. They're leaving now and that's all that matters.)

They're nearly at the gates and Juliet quickens her strides in her anticipation, eager to be free of this cognitive prison. A scream cuts through and when the archer blinks and squints through the haze of her thoughts, she sees the scene unfolding by the scarlet crape myrtle trees. The woman who screamed is pushed backward as a creature more 'beast' than man rips free from her embrace. This always happens when they change... the Lightless roam off into the wood, because something within beckons to them. (What this 'something' is, Juliet has yet to discover herself. Those who receive the antidote never have useful information to tell her in this regard, claiming that they were 'trapped in another world' throughout the period of their transformation and unaware of their actions as a creature in the real world. When she brought this information back to Millicent, the witch didn't seem stumped or even surprised by it. (Though it's rare for her to be stumped about anything.) She informed her that the minds of the inflicted enter a labyrinth where they are made to confront their 'inner truths and demons'. Most of this explanation went over the archer's head. However, she is aware that she is changing hearts led by greed and violence and lust by doing what she is doing. It may not look like 'heroics' on the surface, but... what she's doing means something. It means everything.) "Help!" The woman cries out. "Please, help!" Then she tries to run forward again, lunging for the creature's claw to try and pull him back. Damn. Why'd this have to happen now?

Juliet's feet carry her forward automatically and she grabs the woman's arm to yank her backward before the Lightless can shake her off or snap at her.

"It's dangerous. Stay back." Juliet informs her cooly. The woman tries to shake herself free, watching with horror as the creature stalks off towards the wood. The guards in the tower at the kingdom gates is stupefied (they always are when confronted with these cases). "He won't hurt you if you let him go."

"What are you saying!?" The woman shrieks, turning her tearful eyes on her. Then she tries calling out to the man-turned-monster. "Trevor! Come back!"

Juliet doesn't look at the woman. She instead studies the monster, who lumbers slowly towards the wood as if hypnotized. The transformation finalizes as sharp spikes grow out from the arch of his spine. (Had the woman been clinging to his back like she had been doing, one of them very well might have pierced right through her. She audibly gulps, perhaps realizing this.) The archer decisively reaches for her bow and the woman panics at the sight of it.

"Don't hurt him!" (Juliet is not going to hurt him.) "Please. He-- he can still be saved. I know he can. Juliet August is visiting the kingdom, and..." This woman clearly doesn't know who she's talking to and Juliet doesn't want or have the time to explain it to her. She resists the desire to roll her eyes. "And I got word this morning that the heroine from the Other Side has appeared as well! We just need to find a way to stop him from going into the wood until they arrive. It's so dangerous there, I cannot bear the thought of him--"

"He is the danger right now. He might hurt you and other bystanders if his attention remains within the gates." Juliet explains gravely as she searches for the right arrow for the task. (Normally she prefers not to waste the antidote on the newly transformed-- they've hardly the time to change in those instances. However, she just wants to get this one over with so she can leave the kingdom. And she needs to keep up appearances as well, even if this woman doesn't know who she is. The guard at the gate certainly does.) "You need to let him go for now and let me--"

"Trevor! Trevor, come back!" The woman is not listening to a word she says. She runs forward a few steps and foolishly proceeds to take off one of her shoes, chucking it at the Lightless who was once 'Trevor' and directing his attention back within the gates. His eyes are an angry, blazing red. (...Doing the exact thing that Juliet expressly told her not to do. The people in Amoria truly do love to test her patience.) "Trevor!"

The Lightless, 'Trevor', begins to charge right for them. Juliet curses under her breath and pushes the (foolish) woman out of his path, taking them both down into a rolling heap on the ground. (Cobblestone does not provide a kind landing for them, that is for certain. However, it's either that or being torn through by the claws of the beast.) The monster clumsily barrels into the fountain standing behind them instead-- shattering the beautiful sculpture that stands there. Water spews everywhere and the head of the figure depicted falls and breaks into a million pieces. Nearby people scatter and scream and the stimuli visibly causes the creature great distress.

Juliet hisses through her teeth as she forces herself to stand up. (She hurts all over. Her nose is bleeding, there are cuts and scrapes all along her arms and legs and she can feel the beginnings of several bruises blooming on her side. This is nothing, though, and she needs to stop this chaos before it can get any worse.) Nocking an arrow, she aims and purposefully grazes the monster's shoulder specifically to become the target of his fury. She moves backward, towards the gate, and keeps her gaze firmly locked with his as she nocks another arrow.

"Lady Juliet!" The guard has finally scrambled down from his watchtower. "Are you all-- all--" He gulps as he looks at the beast, which is slowly drawing nearer to Juliet and him by association.

"Check on the woman. Make sure she doesn't follow us." Juliet snaps, rubbing some blood from her nose. She continues to back up, just nearly on the verge of passing through the gates. The guard hurriedly nods and scrambles to do just that. While keeping her attention fixed on the monster, she remembers that she has a traveling companion now and ought to inform her of what's going on. "Willow! We need to guide him into the wood before anyone gets hurt." She shoots the second arrow then, grazing the monster's other arm. It roars at her and she turns around when she's confident she has its attention, breaking into a run towards the wood. "Follow me!"

 

[starboob]

‘Crud, crud, crud.’ The word keeps repeating itself in her head with increasing urgency, but tension keeps her body still like she’s been petrified. Like her muscles are frozen and locked into place. She can’t move. She’s a prisoner in her own body and she needs to break free if this is going to be her debut as a hero. (There are so many eyes on Juliet. There are going to be so many eyes on Willow the second they piece together who she is. They are all going to know the truth: that she lied. That she isn’t the hero they have been waiting for, she’s just a kid who stumbled through one of the gateways and bumped into the right person at the right time. Or perhaps the wrong person at the wrong time, depending on one’s perspective. Willow hasn’t decided what narrative to go with.) ‘It shouldn’t be me. It should not have been me.’ Her only saving grace right now is that she hasn’t curled up into a protective ball, but that small improvement isn’t going to save Amoria and it certainly isn’t going to save love. (Anyone can be a bystander.) Not everyone can be like Juliet August who is both working with the hysterical woman and the newborn Lightless, like a real hero.

Lucky, at least, is still alert and unphased by whatever their companion is experiencing, but that doesn’t mean they dive right into the action either. (As a companion, that is not their purpose.) They grow several feet in size, nothing to startle the lone guard or the bystanders, but enough that they can look Willow in her thousand yard stare and lick her cheek. (Dragon tongues, for the record, are much worse than cat tongues.) It leaves behind a stripe of pink, having taken off the topmost layer of skin, and it’s rough enough to call the sorceress back from being stuck inside of her own head. Kind of.

She shakes her head, emptying out her thoughts (or trying to), and looks around herself in a daze. Right, there’s the Lightless (Trevor) and there’s Juliet and here is Willow James, soon to be found out as the fraudulent champion of love. But at least she can move again; at least she can try to do something. ‘Focus, Willow.’ From what she can gather from the conversation Juliet is having with the woman, the plan is to draw the Lightless away from the crowd and out into the wood. Okay. So they need a distraction. She can do this––she knows tons of spells that can accomplish this. (What are they again? What runes does she need? How should she channel the magic?) She could do something easy, like summon the winds to corral the beast, forcing it to exit through the gates. ‘What if I screw up?’ Not that Willow has ever messed up summoning the wind before, but what if this becomes her first screw up? What if she goes too big and brings in a full on rainstorm? (That’s also never happened, but what if?) Her throat starts to tighten.

She can’t do this. She can’t. (She has to.) She’s going to mess up. Her fingers twitch around her staff-turned-bracelet, wanting to do something and yet, once again, she finds herself choking. She’s not good enough. She’s not cut out for this. This was a mistake. (This is just like when…) All the moisture in her mouth is sucked dry, making it feel like she has a mouthful of sand; her hands and cheeks start to feel cold and numb; and all the noise around her sounds like it’s coming through a cement tunnel. (Has her magic left her? No, it never does, but she can’t think when all she keeps hearing is, “All that talent is wasted with you, Willow. What are you so scared of? Being great?” Sometimes, she thinks she might be.)

‘Focus.’

She takes a deep breath and tries to suffocate the memory. That was then, this is now. She is Willow James and she will be the champion of love.

Heat creeps up her neck the longer she waffles on what to do and, ultimately, she doesn’t think she can do anything. Magic… Magic has to be out of the question for now, she’s far too in her head to cast safely––especially with all these people around. (She can feel everyone’s searing gaze on her back, burning holes into her skull. She finds herself wondering if the women up in their apartment are whispering about her?) Lucky must recognize their companion’s hang ups, because they nudge the sword on her hip and the sorceress nods. Even if she has no idea how to use this thing (aside from the few swings and blocks Nix literally just taught her), she needs to do something for the citizens of Amoria. ‘Okay, okay, okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.’ She scrambles and trips getting onto Lucky’s back (thanks, nerves), and the dragon barely waits for Willow to get settled before they’re barreling forward to catch up with Juliet.

Lucky flies low enough to the ground so that the beast has something to follow and, while Willow has zero idea of what she’s going to do with the sword, the reflective surface gleams in her eye a few times, giving her an idea. (It pales in comparison to anything Juliet August, the real hero, might do.) She holds the weapon up over her head and angles it in a way so that the sunlight bounces off it and hits the Lightless’s blazing red eyes. Trevor, as she recalls that is the Lightless’s name, shrieks in annoyance and shifts his focus on her and, while that had been the entire point, Willow isn’t sure what to do from here. ‘Mist!’

Trevor sets back onto his haunches and then launches himself into the air, over Lucky and Willow, landing right in front of them. Neither of them are given enough time to slow down or change their course and this results in Lucky crashing directly into Trevor; all three bodies tumble over each other, going down like bowling pins. Willow manages to hold onto her sword as she falls off of Lucky’s back and lands somewhere in the tangle of limbs. The fall is enough to disorient Willow to the point where she isn’t sure of what’s happening or what appendages are hers, and it takes her a minute to find herself in the mess. She feels Lucky’s tail slap into her stomach as the dragon struggles to free itself and she’s pretty sure Trevor’s elbow is what knocks her chin, forcing her to bite her tongue. To be honest, Willow waits for the other two to sort themselves out before she even considers figuring out herself.

Lucky and Trevor eventually roll off of Willow and start to wrestle. While she hasn't gotten up from the ground and is staring dazedly into the trees, she can feel heat building in her own throat and knows that her companion is going to go for the kill if she doesn’t stop them. Dizzily, she props herself up onto her elbows and shouts, “Lucky! Don’t hurt him––he’s still a person!” A person whose attention she has just grabbed (again) and Willow doesn’t know how to feel about this, but there isn’t time for her to asses as Trevor tosses Lucky against a tree (a feat that would not have been possible were Lucky even a few feet longer), temporarily knocking them out. The man turned beast then turns and bounds towards the sorceress, pushing her back down to the ground. (This somewhat reminds her of wrestling with Leif, but far more deadly and not as fun.) She struggles under Trevor, trying to wriggle away, but he’s got a firm grip on her shoulder and keeps her in place. He releases a guttural cry from his throat, baring his fangs and letting slobber drip down onto Willow’s cheek (ew, ew, ew). Her heartbeat thunders in her ears and cold sweat beads over her brow as she tries to beat Trevor’s hand open with the pommel of her sword. Her sword. Right. As the beast throws his head back and then comes back down to eat Willow’s face (she’s guessing), she manages to raise the blade in defense so that Trevor clamps down on the reinforced steel, cracking some of his teeth. (Oops.) “Ju-Juliet!” she calls out, struggling to keep her weapon in her grip, "I one hundred percent do not got this and could use some help!" At that moment, Trevor yanks the sword from her hand and tosses it to the side. Crud. Is this how it ends? Is this where Willow James's young life ends?

 

[ellarose]

Juliet makes it into the clearing and turns on her heels to face the battle she's found herself in, bow nocked and readied. (It is efficient-- preferable-- when she fights from a distance. Especially so when she approaches a target from the shadows and take care of matters when they are completely unaware of her presence. As an archer, she has that advantage if she acts wisely. There are also many reasons why it is more efficient to fight alone... for with others, unexpected variables are brought into the battle. Such as this indescribable scene unfolding with Willow and Lucky, entangled with the Lightless and rolling across the ground. She blinks. Why is... There is no way for her to aim with the three of them in such close proximity, where she risks striking the wrong person (or dragon) if any of them move into the path of her arrows at the last second. Moreover, the net she's prepared will only accomplish to snare the three of them together in a tight little bundle. That simply won't do. Troubled, she bites the inside of her cheek, considering the terrain and various options as to how to proceed from here. Were this any other fight, it would not take this much pause and deliberation. But their opponent is indeed a person and despite everything, Juliet is not a killer. She needs to proceed with an option that will cease the fight while keeping everyone involved safe. Before she can voice her intentions aloud, Lucky and the Lightless part from Willow. (...The dragon will not listen to her, she is fairly certain, if they are anything like Grace. Companions can be quite protective and they have only just met. It's clear that they do listen to Willow, though, pausing just long enough to be thrown off and into a tree when she cries out. Then the Lightless is hurtling towards Willow and Juliet is not fast enough to stop it this time. Her heart pounds fervently in her chest as she watches the sorceress fall to the ground. You started this, Juliet. You will be responsible if she gets hurt.)

That is not going to happen. She's already replacing one trick arrow with another. This one sizzles, flickering a faint orange and sails like a thin strand of flame through the air when she releases it. It flies over the beast and Willow both-- past them and firmly into a tree behind them.

Let it be known that Juliet August is not a terrible shot. She is an excellent shot-- has been ever since she was just a tyke-- and she did not miss her mark just then. The enchanted arrowhead explodes behind them and successfully captures the creature's attention. Their head snaps upright and alert, which at least gets those sharp teeth away from Willow James's face before she can lose it. (Which is good, because she has a rather nice face as far as faces go.) The archer is not finished yet, however. She has already nocked her bow with a grappling arrow, aiming it at one of the sturdier branches overhead and bracing herself for her feet to leave solid ground as she swings herself over to the place where the explosion went off before the dust has time to settle.

"Over here!" Juliet taunts the beast to completely secure it's attention as she reaches for one of her remaining antidote arrows. (She has only three of these left in her quiver. She needs to make them last before they reach Millicent.) This arrow is as elegant as it is magical, wispy and glowing a faint blue. When she nocks it, her entire bow transforms to match it in appearance-- glowing and curling whimsically at the ends like fluffy clouds from a realm of angels. The creature lets out a guttural growl from his throat, his clawed feet thundering against the soft earth as he runs right for her. (Newly transformed, the only thing that he knows how to do is charge at anything that captures his attention or gets in his way. Those that have been in that state for longer are often smarter. These simple instincts do work to her advantage in this case, even if she feels it is still too soon to heal him.) The archer is unflinching and unmoving as the Lightless thunders towards her with his teeth bared. Wind blows her hood back, revealing her red hair and fixedly determined glare as she waits for him to come within range... and then she releases the arrow. It spears right through to the creature's dull heart and he releases an ear-splitting howl.

The arrow doesn't create a fatal wound or stick out of the monster's body like an average arrow would. Rather it gets absorbed within his chest, harmlessly slipping inward as if sinking into a pool of water instead of into flesh. The Lightless's blazing red eyes change to a blue that matches the arrow that just struck it. Eventually his mouth emits the same glow, as if the light is devouring his soul from within, and eventually his entire monstrous form is engulfed in it. His silhouette is suspended in midair as the monstrous features dissolve-- the spikes and teeth shrink down until they disappear and reassume their former shapes. When he resembles a human once more, he begins to descend towards the ground again. Juliet rushes forward and catches him in her arms before he can hit the ground. Oof. Heavy.

'Trevor' gradually starts to come to, his facial features twitching as if he's waking from a nightmare. Then he cracks one of his blue eyes open. At first he's understandably confused... but when he processes the fact that he is, one, completely naked, and two, lying in a woman's arms his first instinct is to assemble a drunken smirk that squirms in the most unpleasant way under Juliet's skin. "Must've had a real fun night, eh? What a fox you are." He slurs and makes what she can only describe as an embarrassing attempt to purr. Oh gods. His breath stinks of alcohol and sleaze. (Ugh. Yes, it's just as she thought. Too soon. He's still a prick.) "Don't tell me... it's Scarlet. Or maybe Rose?" Juliet does not look impressed. "Not often that you find a redhead in Amoria--"

Juliet unceremoniously drops Trevor onto the ground before he can finish that thought. "He's fine." The archer bluntly informs Willow as she uncaringly steps over his body to walk across the clearing to check on the sorceress instead. She offers her a hand, her brows knotting with concern. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?" From what she can see from looking her up and down, there is nothing that causes her too much alarm. She glances over at Lucky, at the base of the tree that they were thrown into before. "...And what about Lucky?"

"W-what am I...?" Behind them, Trevor seems to be recognizing the fact that they are in the wood. He scrambles to his feet, teetering awkwardly as he gathers leaves from the ground in a lame attempt to cover himself up. "Witchcraft! You've-- you've taken me to the wood to sacrifice me, haven't you!?" Here they go.

"...Indeed. Our ritual demanded the blood of a pig." Juliet steams, whirling around on him for interrupting. (She has no patience for men like this. None.) "No, you oaf. The gates are right there. You've been healed and we want nothing more to do with you. Go home."

 

[starboob]

Sweat drips down the side of Willow’s face and she can feel some pooling at her lower back as she struggles against this beast. Adrenaline and cortisol flood the little muscle mass she has as she tries to keep those fangs and her own blade at bay. She groans and grunts against the strain of effort and, absently, tries to brace the weapon with her free hand only to remember that swords are, in fact, very sharp. She grinds down on her jaw, pulls her hand back and tries to reach for a spell that can help her push this beast off of her. Though just as before, she finds herself at a loss with her brain resembling something more like scrambled eggs as opposed to functioning gray matter. At least she knows that Juliet is not far behind and she trusts the archer to protect her––connected thread and heroics aside, she simply believes that Juliet August is a good person. She holds onto this as her muscles shake and strain, knowing that she doesn’t have to do this alone and that she is not alone. Juliet August, the real hero, is here.

And she arrives just when Willow’s sure her face can screw no more and that there is no more strength in her body to push Trevor back. She heaves a sigh of relief when the monster bounds off of her and she feels her own body sink into the dirt now that she can relax some. Her sword arm falls heavily next to her and, to her credit, she does try to lift herself to join Juliet, but her body is reluctant to listen. (She’s a scholar, not an athlete, and had she thought more about what being a hero might entail, she might have added exercise into her training regime rather than just research. 'Just call me Sir Foolious, ugh.')

Lazily, dazedly, she turns her head to the side to watch the rest of the fight. She squints one eye, as if that might help her concentrate, and tries to note everything Juliet is doing. (Moving and thinking quickly. Using strategy that must be harbored in her very bones from years and years of practice.) She stands tall and unshaking as Trevor rampages towards her. Willow holds her breath––she certainly believes in Juliet, but she hasn’t much experience witnessing action from so up close and it always makes her tense. (In fact, she can count on her hand how many times she has watched a fight go down. Once at one of Leif’s baseball games when two players got into a scuffle; another time in downtown when someone from Griffith’s gang pushed down the dancing man and a bystander felt strongly enough to hex him (without a permit!); then yesterday when Juliet cut off an ogre’s hand and again, just now, with this Lightless.) There’s wonder and admiration in her green eyes even if she feels disappointment settling in her stomach. ‘C’mon, Willow. There are supposedly supposed to be two champions of love and until the actual hero from Elsewhere arrives, you’ve gotta be more than dead weight.’ She pauses, realizes what she’s just suggested and pinches her nose. ‘You are the hero. No one else is coming––that’s prophecy 101: the fates don't mess up. They might screw with you, but they don't mess up.’ Even if this feels like an accident, she has to hold onto what has already been prophesied and understand that the second hero is her even if she doesn’t feel ready.

When Trevor sheds his monstrous form, at first Willow feels a bit triumphant, even if this is not her win at least there is one less Lightless roaming the wood. Then he opens his mouth and she has trouble masking her disgust. She doesn’t judge Juliet when she unceremoniously drops the adulterer. (Part of Willow is aghast he’d be so lewd when the woman he had been with earlier seemed to care so much for him, but then she remembers what Juliet said the night before. Something about inner-work needing to be done in order to protect hearts from the sickness; she also remembers the comment that Lavinia’s future brother-in-law was already half monster before he became affected. This does suggest those who are susceptible to the sickness must be pieces of work themselves. ‘Hmm.’)

She accepts Juliet’s hand and dusts herself off once she’s standing again. “Uh, I just cut my palm, but I have a palm balm for that.” Okay, it’s not a palm balm specifically, but Willow James is not one to miss out on a good rhyme. “Note to self: swords are sharp. Who woulda thunk?” She grins sheepishly and sheaths her sword just as Trevor accuses them of witchcraft. As always, the sorceress stiffens and, in this particular instance, she shoots the man a rare glare. (If looks could kill, Willow's glare would need to be a registered weapon.) It disappears rather quickly, however, but she can still feel heat creeping up her neck and her fingers twitch, tempted to pull off her staff and say some sassy quick remark like Meredith would. (In the privacy of her mind, she imagines a pettier version of herself. One who complements Juliet’s remark by giving the man a little piggy tail and snout to match.) She stays quiet and does nothing other than simmer.

The man scoffs, not taking Juliet’s hint to leave and starts to come at them (still holding leaves to cover his indecency). “You little bitch––” He probably would have said more had Lucky not roused in that moment and taken a stance behind the two women, huffing smoke from their nostrils and letting the tiniest flames escape from the side of their maw. That, at least, gets Trevor to think twice. "Ah, fuck both of y'slags," he says with a wave of his hand, stalking off back towards Amoria, and grumbling something about women all being like witches or something similarly offensive. Willow seriously considers letting Lucky singe his butt hairs off, but the moment passes.

When Trevor is well out of earshot, Willow turns to Juliet. “Are they all like him?” Because while Willow is somewhat aware that hero work will be thankless, she had not considered the possibility they would be saving… slimy buttheads for want of a better phrase. They might not be evil, but they’re certainly evil’s mean cousin. (Kind of like Griffith, Conrad, Sabrina, Kinsley and the rest of that crew. Well, Griffith might actually be evil but Willow has yet to prove that.) “How do you… How do you deal with people like that? Like, I kind of regret not letting Lucky mess him up more.” (Willow remembers very clearly in her early years when she used to wish ill on people who are bad, but her grandmas always contested that and would say that those people are the ones most in need of love and kindness. She still finds that hard to swallow, even if she can see the truth in it. Being a hero now, she wonders how she will come to terms with saving the buttheads as well as the truly deserving. 'Leave the judging to the judges, I guess.')

“If the sickness affects those who are jerks… do you suppose there’s a purpose to it?” she wonders, swiping her staff off of her wrist now that they are well past Amoria’s gates. (She makes a note to have Sawyer keep an eye on the jerks in Elsewhere to see if anything funky is starting to happen to them.) “Or do you think it’s just a punishment for being jerks?” As they continue into the wood, Willow summons Leif’s cap and puts it on backwards (an intentional stylistic choice, because everyone knows a backwards hat is much cooler than a forward facing one); she then summons the aforementioned balm that is not just for palms. “Also, be honest. How did I do? What can I do to improve next time? Oh, and hope you don’t mind going on foot… After that hit, Lucky shouldn’t carry passengers for a couple days.”

 

[ellarose]

"I see. You came prepared." Juliet nods, relief softening her features just slightly when Willow informs her of the 'palm balm' that she packed. That's decidedly a good quality to have. (Especially if she has a balm specifically suited for every part of her body stored within... although the archer is not sure if the specificity is necessary when it comes to such balms. If anything, she imagines the sheer amount of balms this might require would take up an exponential amount of space in her pack as well. Although the pack is quite big, isn't it? She almost catches herself wondering what else is inside when she remembers the pack of Starbursts that the sorceress procured for them (...her) in Nix's shop. Unless she can summon candies all the way from the Other Side, it must be on her somewhere. Juliet is not going to look through her companion's belongings. She was not raised in the woods. (Well, she was... but not completely. Now she's an oddity with nowhere to belong, an amalgam made up of rigorous survival instincts and relentless etiquette lessons.) Has the thought crossed her mind once or twice to peek, though? ...Maybe.) "Swords are very sharp. I can offer you some more pointers when we set up camp for the night." She says this with such a straight face that it's genuinely hard to tell whether she's trying to joke with what could have very well been a play on words or if she's being entirely serious.

Juliet does not bother turning around to listen to the insults that Trevor throws at them like bricks. He is undeserving of her attention and she owes him nothing. If she goes any further she risks incinerating him where he stands. Her expression doesn't even twitch to indicate what she thinks of this unsavory display, giving off the impression that she's taking it all rather well on the outside (or not at all)... but in truth, the words are kindling on a fire that burns quietly from within. Feeding her fire, which has always been much too stubborn to go out entirely. Every time she's ever been called a bitch is nestled within those everlasting embers. One petty altercation will not change anything. But one day, if her fire rages on to the point that it becomes an uncontrollable force... there is no telling what might happen then. If the archer fears anything, perhaps it is to see what destruction these flames might wrought outside of her body. They're powerful. They're terrifying. And moreover, they're a starved thing. Once she lets it out it will build an appetite and she may never be the same again.

"You must fix that wolfish appetite of yours, Juliet. It is most unbecoming of a lady." (The bite of Brooks's fingernails digging in her arm ghosts over her flesh. He had a whole list of things for her to fix and they all rest within her fire as well. Stop, stop, stop.) "How do you... How do you deal with people like that?" This voice belongs to Willow, to the present, and Juliet hastily anchors herself to it before she's lost to the storm.

"Practice." Juliet offers quietly. (She's still dealing with it. No, she's not. She's fine. Honest.) She breaths in sharply and exhales softly. (The sharpness always gets stuck somewhere within. It always does. But she's fine. She's fine.) "Lots of practice. In my experience, the weakest of men yell the loudest." She brushes her hands over her skirts and hood. The hem is torn and muddied but she could not care less. When they reach the witch of the wood she intends to change, anyhow. "And, yes... corrupt hearts are the most susceptible to the sickness." Because they're the ones wearing the targets. Of course she's not in the business of infecting the innocent, not in this line of work to hurt anyone. No matter what it might look like on the surface. However, Juliet is not responsible for all of the cases across the kingdoms. The first... the first one... she was not even responsible for. Millicent could probably learn how it originated in the first place if she ever felt inclined to venture any further than the bounds of her safe, woodland cottage. (Which means it's never going to happen. The only time she dared to travel faraway was... then. She's too much of a homebody.) These affairs involve complicated magics which, admittedly, she does not fully understand herself.

"A purpose." Juliet muses, carefully turning the thought around in her mind. Or punishment. The implication of these words is that there is someone responsible for all of this. And, in a way, there is. (Her.) While she did not start it, she contributes to the 'problem'. What will Willow think of her when she finds out? (Ah. This is why she wanted to destroy the gateways before something like this could happen. But it has already happened and there is nothing she can do to change that.) No matter what she thinks of her, a woman who believes in love so unflinchingly that she would risk her life in another world will try to stand in her way. The archer is indeed capable in a fight. But she does not wish to fight Willow James. Understanding the sorceress's interest in collecting data, as well as her sharp memory as to the discussions from the night prior... she must not say too much for risk of showing her hand. "...I wonder." She twists a lock of hair around her finger before tucking it over her shoulder. "I always thought it was most attracted to those with little faith in their own hearts." Then she furrows her brow, the way she often does when she is stumped by a question. "Admittedly, I've been so busy confronting the beasts that I hardly understand it myself." In a way, this is a truth. Sort of. She may be omitting crucial details, but... she does not wish to fight with Willow James. "I suppose that is why you are here."

Juliet is immensely grateful for the change of subject when Willow brings up her own performance. "You did not curl up into a ball. That is a step in the right direction." She offers with a nod. "It was clever and brave of you to draw the Lightless's attention the way you did... but it was also very reckless. Dangerous." The sorceress must know this, having been the one who ended up trapped beneath the beast herself. Lucky got hurt as well. "I know you wish to help, but you do not have to force yourself to stand in harm's way until you feel you are prepared to do so. I have been fighting on my own for a very long time now." The archer's gaze pans up at the canopy of branches rustling overhead. Just her and the trees. And Grace. She manages a half-smile. "And I have traveled on foot for a very long time as well. I do not mind." While flying is fast and efficient, she is content to travel with her feet firmly planted on solid ground. "Like this, it will take us two days time to reach the witch of the wood."

Walking beneath dapples of sunlight filtered through the trees, the season gradually changes around them from a wintry spring to fall. Orange leaves float all around them and the 'clink-clank' sound of tinkerers at work echo like little bells in the trees. "Careful where you step. We need to tread carefully through this village." The archer cautions as she steps over a line of sentient terra-cotta figures that hop across the path with their tiny ladders and hammers. (It does not look like a village at first... but it becomes evident the further they walk that there are tiny doors and golden little windows built into the trees all around them here.) "The clink-clanks live here." ...Yes, Juliet named them that specifically because of the sounds they make. She came up with it when she was ten and traveled through to Amoria for the first time. She once kneeled down and asked them what they would prefer to be called, only to quickly realize that they communicate with no more than squeaky little gasps and incoherent noises. They often sound panicked to her-- but this may be due to them having unmoving circles for eyes and mouthes, creating expressions which seem frozen in eternal horror. It's a part of their charm, she supposes. "Anyway, if you step on one it is said that they summon a beast built of their fallen in retaliation." This is what Lara told her, anyway, in the same low and conspiratorial voice that Juliet is using now. (It occurs to her that she has never shared this story with anyone before.) "Are there any clink-clanks in Elsewhere?"

 

[starboob]

Willow James decides that Juliet August is very funny. She likes her dry sense of humor, because while deadpan humor might not be her own strong suit it is one of her favorites. (Of course, this quality in Meredith is what made her think that she hated her when they first met, but she eventually realized it was an honor to be hazed so ruthlessly by her jabs and jokes that were spoken with all the seriousness of a mean girl.) She’ll have to be on her ‘A’ game if she wants to keep up with Juliet and her jokes––she’ll need to be on her ‘A+++’ game, in fact.

With an amused smile, she takes a small swipe of the aforementioned palm balm, just enough to barely cover the tip of her little finger, and carefully applies it to the cut on her palm. The balm has a slight blue-green tint (it always reminds Willow of toothpaste) and it starts to glow then sparkle along the cut; the blood that had been leaking from the wound pulls back inside of it and, after a few seconds, the balm sets over the wound, still glowing and sparkling. (Once the wound is healed, the balm will harden and then flake off. With a cut like this, it should be flaking by mid-afternoon.) She hands the small jar to Juliet, noting her healthy coverage of cuts and scrapes. “I lied, this isn’t a palm balm but I like rhymes. It can be used on any minor injury and you don’t need much for it to work its magic.” It’s actually a balm that her family has made for centuries and the secret ingredient is love of course! How can one heal without some love, after all?

On the subject of love, when the conversation turns to the Lightless and the possible cause for the affliction, she nods along to what Juliet is saying. (She looks very cute when she’s in thought.) It isn’t surprising to her that the archer hasn’t had more time to consider the causes or possible reason for the sickness––after all, she is only one archer and Willow remembers reading the scroll from the princess as well as looking at Juliet’s map of messy exes. (That misunderstanding still makes her smile.) Well, at least Willow knows that what she might lack in bravado and braun, she makes up for in brain. Plus, she's always believed that two heads are better than one.

She furrows her brows together thinking on the two things Juliet has just said––that the men who yell the loudest are the weakest and that those affected might lack faith in their own hearts. While she knows it is not only men who are capable of being awful (again, Kinsley and Sabrina and Lavinia are proof), she sees a connection in the sentiment. How is this form of insecurity not essentially a reflection of their faith in themselves? And by extension, their own heart? The heart that is so often conflated with being a representation of the rawest self, the most primal organ in the body? Willow cannot help but to see a possible parallel, but she keeps this to herself for now. (If one had more faith in themself, maybe they wouldn't have the need to scream and shout and slam doors and stomp. Maybe they wouldn't have to show how badly they wish they could hurt someone. Maybe, maybe, maybe.)

Though unknowing to the archer’s relief at the change of subject, she feels that same relief wash over her when Juliet gives her notes on her performance. The highlights do leave something to be desired and Willow James still feels a glow of pride that she did not, in fact, curl into a ball. (She is a day closer to successfully making toast without squeaking.) It’s not much and she’s still many miles away from where she’d like to be, but Juliet recognizing even this small step helps her fully accept that she is actually doing better than yesterday. She sucks in a breath and nods when Juliet also points out that there isn’t a need for Willow to dive in head first; there is conflict within the sorceress when she hears that. She doesn’t want to be benched. She doesn’t want to be put on the sidelines. But she also reminds herself of when the Department of Magical Affairs ordered her mom to put a child lock on her abilities at two and half, because even as a toddler she could sneeze and cause a full-on hurricane and her tantrums usually came with lightning storms. (While Willow may look nothing like an elf––she lacks the grace, height, pointed ears, and elegance––her magical prowess speaks for itself and always has.) She had to learn how to harness and control her power before she could use her magic freely and that took years of watching. (Now people think she holds back too much and grown too scared of what’s inside of her and that’s not even true. At least, she doesn’t think so.) While she doesn’t necessarily have years to watch Juliet, she starts to understand enough to quell her upset.

She heaves a sigh and nods in agreement, “Yeah… Yeah. But you better know you don’t have to fight alone––I’ll take notes until my hand cramps, but don’t forget about those of us on the bench, coach,” she says, trying to make light of her feelings. “Let me help wherever you think I can. I respond well to gentle nudges and positive reinforcement,” she asserts with a defiant little nod of her head, for the first time giving Juliet one of her more serious looks. (It doesn’t look that serious, on account of her adorable button nose being all scrunched up and her mouth pulling in a way that reveals her dimples.) “That reminds me, when we get to camp, I have some letters for you.” She won’t give her the love letters (the ones she had written to the idea of who her person might be), but she will give her the ones that are in the vein of How to Take Care of Your Willow James: A Comprehensive Manual by Willow James. (It is indexed and complete with footnotes!)

As they continue through the wood, Willow marvels at the scraggly branches overhead and the warmth that comes from the change in leaves. (She finds this change interesting, because it’s like walking through the seasons. That does not happen in the wood on her side.) She can hear the little sound of tinkering and nods along to Juliet’s explanation, staring down at the ground to watch for the little moving people––they're not as small as ants, but probably no bigger than baby mice. “Clink-clanks,” she muses, “That’s cute.” She is starting to wonder about all these Other Sider naming schemes, but she says nothing about it for now. Who is she to judge, really?

Lucky, who had been curled at the top of Willow’s pack, now shrinks even further to investigate the ‘clink-clanks.’ Willow grins, watching the tiny people run around Lucky. She bets that they most likely have never seen a dragon before. (Or, if they have, the dragon was probably too big for them to fully make out what it was.) “There are! My grandmas’ house is full of them, actually. Well, not clink-clanks specifically. We call them gneabils. I don’t really know what they are, but they live in the walls and help keep the house spick and span.” She thinks about this for a second and then clarifies, “Clean. They help with the housework and they’re pretty nice if you don’t step on them. They won’t summon a beast, because grandma Juniper banned that, but they will play some pretty mean pranks.” She prances over a group of clink-clanks just as Lucky rejoins her on her head, having decided they are done with the fanfare.

However, while Lucky may be done with the clink-clanks, they are not done with the dragon and are now scaling up Willow’s cloak. “Someone’s popular,” she says, looking up at the top of her head with a grin, not seeming bothered by these extra passengers. “Let’s see what they want!” No, Willow doesn’t understand the clink-clank language (nor does she understand the gneabil language), but she knows a spell that can help bridge language barriers between these sweet creatures. (If only she knew this spell at the time of the Toothbrush Incident.) “Juliet, would you like to understand the clink-clanks?”

Once she has the archer’s answer, she sticks her staff in the ground and claps her hands together. A small wind gathers around the sorceress and when she pulls her hands apart, a white glyph with a blue glow appears and she tosses it into the air. It spins slowly and expands until it's covering the boundary of this little village. It then descends back down, passing over everyone like a scanner before finally settling on the ground. They have about 30 minutes before the spell will need to be reinforced.

Nothing fundamentally changes about the squeaky gasps and the incoherent noises that the clink-clanks make, but it’s now understandable to their ears. (Likewise, when they speak they aren’t speaking the language of the clink-clanks, but the clink-clanks can now understand them.) “Alrighty,” Willow hums and puts her open palm to her shoulder to invite one of the lil dudes into her hand. When one crawls into her hand, she brings them up to her face. “What’s going on, friend? Never seen a dragon before?”

The lil dude squeaks and huffs and moves their arms around emphatically as they share a story of a rival village, the klonk-klunks, who stole all three of their harvest berries that they’d been saving for the high elder's centennial birthday. (Aww.)

Willow nods thoughtfully, “And you want Lucky to burn down the klonk-klunk village?” Well, that won’t do. “Have you tried a diplomatic solution?”

At that, the lil dude practically bursts into flames, entirely insulted by the idea of “diplomacy.”

“Okay, okay––my bad, friend. That’s harsh, but I get it. You need to send a message.” She scratches her chin thoughtfully and looks over at Juliet. “Any thoughts? Do you know anything about the klonk-klunks?"

 

[ellarose]

"I see." Juliet says as Willow explains her own side's version of the 'clink-clanks'. She silently wonders if Willow named them the 'gneabils' or if the 'we' implicates that the name is one that's been passed down for years, something that she's been told-- perhaps by her grandmother. (They're just details. They shouldn't matter... but she cannot help but be curious now that she knows an Other Sider herself. Willow comes from a whole other world. It is only natural to wonder, isn't it? It has nothing to do with the thread.) She has never known anyone to let the clink-clanks in their home... with the exception of Millicent, who will let just about any mischievous creature in need of shelter under her roof. (Just as she let Juliet under her roof when she needed someone as well.) She envisions the other side's clink-clanks, cleaning and listening to Willow's grandmother, considering she has managed to keep them in line enough to ban any such summoning. (She always thought the concept of the clink-clanks summoning their fallen was yet another a ghost story that Lara told-- as she sometimes would-- but now she's not so sure. The archer was always vigilant not to step on the clink-clanks because of it, though.) She also considers the phrase 'spick and span'... and she likes it. The 'spick-spans' could be a nice name for them, too. Before Juliet can suggest this, however, Willow is making a suggestion of her own. Understand the clink-clanks? (Little remnants of a ten-year-old Juliet's childlike wonder shines ever so briefly in her eyes... the jaded Juliet with work to do pushes her down. They ought to keep distractions to a minimum as they navigate the wood if they want to pass safely through Wraith's Valley before nightfall.)

However... the clink-clanks are uncharacteristically insistent on getting their attention. Or at least Lucky's attention. Juliet has always known them to keep to themselves. (The only physical contact she's ever had with one was when she tried sitting down in the grass to talk to them as a girl and a particularly energetic one with a broken spike jumped right into the palm of her hand. She fixed the spike and it kissed her on the nose.) With this in mind, there is a possibility that they know something they should be aware of ahead. Perhaps they actually mean to warn them about something? Now that she's considered this as a possibility, she knows that passing by without checking first will make her wonder-- she'll pick at these thoughts until become a distraction. With that in mind, the archer nods to give her consent for Willow to proceed.

Juliet tilts her head as she observes the scene of Willow's magic coating the area, looking from the backs of her hands to the clink-clank's village as the light drapes over the lot of them like a magical blanket. Woah. She's never seen anything quite like this before. (Or rather heard anything like this before.) Her brown eyes blink rapidly when she realizes she does indeed understand what the clink-clanks are saying now, picking up on the sound of distinctive voices through their village full of squeaks and shouts. (Willow's intentions were clearly spoken, but hearing their voices with her own ears is another matter entirely. What would the clink-clanks say if clink-clanks could speak with them? This is a question that she set to rest a long time ago-- and all she's done lately is tread lightly while passing through their village. But now it seems that they will find out.) It takes the span of a few more blinks before her mild shock flattens into something slightly more unimpressed. A petty feud, is that it?

"The klonk-klunks live between the ice caves to the east. They build... sculptures." Juliet considers, thinking of the everlasting powder-white snow and the clunky chimes that rattle among the icicles on the frozen tree branches. They give that indicative 'klonk-klunk' sound, much like the bells over the door of the old antique shop in the market. "They are rather obnoxious. They enjoy throwing things at the pixies who travel there to knit snowflakes." 'Jealousy can make monsters of anyone.' Lara told her when she witnessed it happen for the first time. (It is rather generous of her to call the klonk-klunk's primitive creations sculptures. Just as people run to take cover from the hail, they will stop to stare with awe when they see a snowflake.) They took the injured pixie, Sera, with them and ensured she made it back to her village to get her broken wing fixed. Although... while she understands and deeply empathize with the clink-clank's need to get vengeance for stolen food of all things, this is not a matter that they ought to get themselves involved in. The ice caves are out of their way. They need to keep moving, as getting sidetracked may have unforeseen consequences. (Such as getting caught in Wraith's Valley as the sun goes down.) She sighs and rubs her temples. "We don't have time for this."

The little clink-clank sighs and throws their arms defeatedly in the air as if to say that 'all hope is lost'. (If these enchanted beings were human beings, the archer surely would have had a much easier time ignoring them and moving on. They are being fairly unreasonable to expect them to settle their own battles for them. As it is now, however, she has trouble rejecting the notion with the same air of finality that she's used to. It has nothing to do with Willow's infectious enthusiasm or her taste for adventure or anything like that. It's just...)

"I... er, I mean no disrespect." Juliet informs it awkwardly, holding her hands out primarily because she doesn't know what to do with them anymore. She is out of practice conversing with people, let alone clink-clanks. "We are very busy." That is the truth. They are on an incredibly important mission to save (destroy) love here.

"Red hood girl is always busy." A motherly looking clink-clank says matter-of-factly. "Always, always!" Another chimes in to agree. "Busy, busy girl."Oh. Juliet blushes at the implication that they recognize and also notice her as she passes through their village. With her face hot and her words uncertain, she is not sure if she wants to hear their opinions about her. Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved? While she does not think they've seen much of her, as there is no need to set up camp so close to Amoria's gates, it is admittedly strange to think that they've noticed her all along in the same way that she noticed them.

"Here, here! Down here!" A small crowd of them bounce by Juliet's boots, clink-clanking along the path. (They remind her of a group of rambunctious group incessantly prodding a reluctant friend to do something bold.) A few of them cling at the ruined hem of her skirt and she reluctantly brings herself to her knees to see them better. She is at a loss. "...Y-yes, what is it?" The group parts to reveal a clink-clank with a tiny crack in their spike. It's... Their terra-cotta cheeks look slightly pink as it scoots a tin, heart-shaped box towards her.

"Busy, kindhearted red girl. Never got to thank!" Their words all jumble together. Once the box is delivered it unleashes an embarrassed scream and scurries back off. A few of their little friends race off to chase them while some stay back to eagerly watch her reaction.

"This... is for me?" Juliet has to clarify before she reaches for it, touching it with the gentleness the tiny craftsmanship entails. It's about as small as a thimble and dented around the edges. The clink-clank must have worked very hard on it.

"Mallet wait for years to give! Red girl disappear... then she appear and never stops. Always busy!"

"I am very busy." Juliet concedes, hoping that her resignation might stop them from repeating it over and over again. She searches through the amassed crowd of clink-clanks for the one with the fixed spike. "...This is a very nice gift. I cannot thank you properly if you don't come back."

"Mallet shy! Very shy!" A few supply the details she's missing. Juliet tucks the little box away into her cloak pocket and stands again. Ah... well, what is she supposed to do now?

"Willow..." Juliet is certain that her cheeks match her hair at this point based on how warm they feel. (Though it's not as bad as she thinks it is.) She is not equipped to handle any of this. She (carefully) steps towards the sorceress and lowers her voice. "Ah, do you have any more Starbursts in your pack? Upon inspection, I thought they resembled tiny present boxes." Although she already ate the extra ones in the pack she left on the counter in Nix's shop. (Oops.) "...We may not be able to help them with the klonk-klunks, but we can leave them with gifts for their elder's birthday to replace the berries." ...This is a purely logical decision, too. She does not want to make enemies of the clink-clanks is all.

 

[starboob]

These little guys are quite a feisty bunch, but not too dissimilar from the gneabils back home who are known for being quite feisty themselves. Of course, where the clink-clanks have three ‘Os’ to make up their horrified features, the gneabils have three horizontal slashes that make them look perpetually unimpressed (and it makes their angry faces all the more intimidating). Whatsmore is that the clink-clanks, who seem to be made of terracotta, do not live within their own flesh as she does not think the trees are made of terracotta too. (The gneabils are wooden and seem to have sprung from the same trees that became the wood planks of the Rhode Island house. It has always creeped Willow out that they seem to be living in something that makes up their own bodies. Clover never fails to mention this when she remembers it freaks her cousin out. She always likes to ask Willow if she thinks they carve out new babies from the walls of the home, knowing full well that the sorceress will be forced to question this for the rest of the evening. She misses her.)

When Willow catches a brief flash of… something else in Juliet’s usual stern look, she can’t help but wonder who just came out––what other versions of the archer exist behind her cloak? Who does she keep hidden? Is there a version of herself who she is trying to protect? These are questions she will have to ponder later, however, as she must work diligently to commit to memory how utterly adorable Juliet looks while interacting with the clink-clanks. She also seems quite popular among them. This is not surprising as Willow cannot imagine that anyone would not be fascinated with the redhead, but maybe that's her thread talking. (It very much is.)

But something about Juliet makes it seem as though she might be uncomfortable with the attention. Willow supposes this makes sense. The night before she had been under some negative spotlight and while she handled it well, the sorceress must wonder whether that was just practice. (Practice. Having to be quick. There are many things about Juliet that seem to be a game of mastery and poise––an act, in other words. Willow hopes that Juliet does not feel she has to pretend around herself.) Even so, Juliet does not run from them even with that fierce red storm across her cheeks. ‘So cute!!!’

She’s also happy that the archer lets go of her pragmatism for just this one second to consider the clink-clanks' request. Willow James is not sure what she would have done had Juliet August refused. (They are heroes, the champions of love, and Willow takes their title seriously. To save love, they must restore all creatures’ faith in each other, she thinks. The divisions on her side between the elves and humans, the humans and giants, the giants and pixies, the pixies and the nymphs, and on and on and on… She sees the need for unity now more than ever. If love is the binding thread of the realms, as she so believes it is, then she doesn’t see a limit to what is and isn’t part of their quest. But perhaps she is too much of a greenhorn to know the difference.) The sorceress, while prepared to travel to the klonk-klunk village and give them a stern lecture on stealing, does understand that it does not make sense for them to go out of their way to appease the clink-clanks. Not when they still must go to Okeanos and investigate the new Lightless variant. Nodding to what the archer suggests, Willow grabs her staff.

“I can do better than Starbursts.” (She doesn’t fully realize that sharing she has more than just Starbursts in her pack might not be a good move. Though it’s not like Juliet could really rummage through her pack. If she were to try, she would more than likely get lost inside of the pack as it has a tendency to swallow things whenever it's opened.) With that, she procures three dark chocolate miniature Wonka bars, something she think might be more valuable than harvest berries or Starbursts combined. She remembers chocolate being a valuable currency before it became widely available to the masses and she figures the clink-clanks might not have access to such goods given that Amoria is probably a distance away for their tiny legs and travelers don’t seem to stop much through their village. Besides, the mini bars are also neatly wrapped like presents, just like the Starbursts. She crouches down to the ground and holds out the replacement gifts, then stacks them neatly in a pyramid formation. “I know these are not fresh berries, but chocolate has long been regarded as the closest we can get to the food of the gods. I hope you can accept this replacement offering for your esteemed high elder.” She then snaps her fingers, another idea coming to mind, and summons a small bell from her bag. “Perhaps you can use this to build an alarm system against intruders?” The sorceress then summons her notebook––it’s leatherbound, has colored tabs sticking out from all sides, and it also seems to be teeming with scraps of paper she’s stuffed between pages. She opens it to a blank page and quickly sketches out a system of pulleys and trip-wires based on what she’s seen of the trees and the technology available to the clink-clanks. (To anyone from her side, they would immediately recognize the influence from the Mouse Trap board game.) She tears out the page, shrinks it down to clink-clank size, and hands it to one of them.

“Oh!” they gasp, their little o-shaped eyes widening as they look over the blueprints. More of the clink-clanks gather around the plans and their faces also mimic the first clink-clank. The group hops up and down and excitedly praises the two heroes, “Whisper and Red! Very smart!”

“But… revenge?” Another chimes in, the first one that Willow spoke to, to be precise. “Klonk-klunks!! Melt them!”

Very politely, Willow rises from the ground and shakes her head. “As my companion said, we are busy and perhaps any other day we might help but…” She lowers her voice and gives the little dude a stern look (it’s still very cute), “What are you telling the klonk-klunks if you let some outsiders handle your squabble?” She remembers Leif saying something similar to her when she had asked him to help her with some middle school bullies. “Sometimes, you need to find your own way to be strong.” (Is she saying this to them? Or herself? Does she even realize this statement might need to be reflected back to her?) “You all seem very crafty, I am sure you will figure it out.”

The little dude kicks the dirt, but is not backed by their fellow clink-clanks, who all seem eager to build traps to fend off klonk-klunks. Knowing they don’t have the backing to push the melting request, the little dude takes a gander at the plans and moves along with the group as they head up into their workshop. (Well, that is where Willow assumes they head off to.) The clink-clanks wave the two heroes goodbye and thank them for their assistance, leaving Willow with a pleasant golden glow. After her earlier fumble with the Lightless, she feels good about this. It’s small, she knows, but sometimes being a hero is as much as about putting a smile on faces as it is about saving lives and, in their case, love. 'Experience is experience, as they say.'

When the tiny little clink-clanking is lost to rustling leaves, Willow steals a glance at her partner. “Thanks for humoring that. I'm such a sucker for helping and I know we’ve got a journey ahead of us, but I really couldn’t help it. Though I’m not sure we would have been given a choice given their interest in Lucky,” who is currently gliding above them, keeping with their pace. “That was a smart solution, too. I hadn’t even thought to offer some of the candies I have in my bag.”

“I also thought it was very cute that Mallet waited so long to thank you.” Not that she knows what a past Juliet might have done to earn the clink-clank’s gratitude. “But it does make me wonder… Are you always in a rush?” She tilts her head to the side, curious. “I mean, I’m struggling to keep up with you while trying to take in the wonder of this place. The wood here is so beautiful.” Back home the wood is something of a mystery to the cityfolk and there has always been fear that surrounds it––especially around the full moon as all the werewolves tend to congregate there to shift. (Well, the ones who don’t want to hurt people tend to travel into the wood when the moon summons them.)

“I mean!” Willow starts to exclaim, pointing to the road ahead of them with one hand as she slaps the other over her forehead, “How can you not be amazed by the giant bullfrogs!” The one she is referring to is sleeping in the middle of the road, effectively blocking their path. “Is it true that they grant wishes if you can out burp them? Can we try?” Already, she’s summoned two bottles of Coca-Cola from her bag. (It’s safe to assume she has an entire flat of soda on her person.) “We can even wish to be closer to a good campsite.” Her green eyes are filled with excited spark and she’s practically bouncing up and down at the idea of out-burping a giant bullfrog. “So it might be very practical…”

 

[ellarose]

"I grew up in the wood and acquainted myself with the sights and creatures a long time ago. Now I am quite... ah, busy." Juliet replies, finding it a bit awkward to admit that after the clink-clanks insisted over and over that she's a 'busy' person. The descriptor is apt, though, and so she supposes it warrants saying. "There are several people who depend on me. Moreover, there are certain parts of the wood that are not--" Willow's excitement pushes the thought downstream to drift away as she observes the sleeping bullfrog in their path. Typically such a sight would not cause her to stop. She simply walks around the sleeping creatures in her path, and quietly so as not to disturb them. "Out... out burp it?" She has never heard of such a thing before. (And ladies cannot burp. Or rather 'must not', as it's not as if a lady is incapable of burping. Ladies are capable of a great deal that they are often told they are incapable of. Juliet once made that point when she was told she could not throw the gross, tiny trees (broccoli) on her plate at Lavinia and proceeded to lob one right at her forehead. Because she has an excellent aim. That habit as well as many others have long since been frightened out of her by that grouchy old governess with her yard stick.) Juliet shakes her head. No, no. They cannot get distracted again.

Juliet's lips part to insist that they carry on without disturbing the frog, that they will make it to a safe campsite if they only stay vigilant... and the shiny bottles Willow summons up instantly capture her undivided attention. (Shiny like her green eyes. But she's not paying attention to her eyes.) Oh. What is that? What does it taste like? (The archer is distracted again.) The sorceress informs her that it is called 'Coca-Cola' and she naturally has to give it her thorough assessment before trying it. As her companion chugs the soda and attends to the bullfrog, Juliet takes her time screwing the red top off. It hisses at her rather threateningly and she looks at Willow once again to be sure that it's actually safe. (It seems fine.) It fizzes up, much like champagne does, and she watches with her head tilted sideways as the bubbles rise and flicker to the top. They wade in zigzags like microscopic fish. The aroma is like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon and breathing it in tickles the inside of her nose in a way that makes her sneeze.

The archer hasn't even tried the 'Coca-Cola' yet by the time the giant bullfrog decides it has better things to do and hops off with a bored croak. She finally takes a sip as she passively watches it hop away, disappearing in the trees. It feels... snappy in her mouth. Kind of like champagne, but much sweeter. Like candy. Pressing her lips together, she thinks about the flavor. It's unlike anything she's ever tried before. She takes another sip.

"Is everything on the other side this sweet?" Juliet asks, brows knitting as she examines the red label. (This is an observation she's making about the food, yes, and perhaps Willow herself as well.) She finds herself increasingly curious to know what is on the other side of those gateways she's been destroying. (And is there more of it inside of her bag? Because she had chocolate as well...) Then she she glimpses the tracks the bullfrog left with a shrug. "...The bullfrogs aren't that fascinating. They like to laze their days away in the shade, staring at the grass." She says this in attempt to smooth over the creature's unreceptive response to the sorceress's efforts. (How simple it must be to be a giant bullfrog.) Anyhow, she isn't particularly sure why she feels inclined to apologize on behalf of a frog. Perhaps because Willow had seemed so eager about it all? "Okeanos is known for having some of the finest sights in all the kingdoms. Let's keep going."

Juliet nods ahead at the path and takes the lead, closing the lid over her drink to save the rest for later. (She possesses more self-control in the wood.) They hop on stones to cross the stream of singing rainbow fish, pass over the illuminated mushroom bridge, and then trek through Mushroom Forest-- which is exactly what it sounds like in that it's a forest composed of clusters of giant mushrooms instead of trees. While Juliet tries to insist on keeping their pace steady, even as Willow stares at everything with her wide-eyed wonder, she does stop to collect some of the rare crystals growing out of some of the mushrooms for Millicent. (Juliet vaguely recalls the witch pulling on the ear the last time she returned without bringing any back for her and does not want this to happen in front of Willow James.)

The sun resembles a bright tangerine in the sky as they near the entrance of Wraith’s Valley. With Willow’s continued fascination with just about everything they've seen, she never did bring up what traveling through Wraith’s Valley entails. However, it may be for the best that she did not. In a way, worrying about what to expect in Wraith’s Valley has a way of making it even worse. When the anticipation builds itself high enough, those rampant magical energies have more to feed off of.

Juliet nears the boatman, who waits by the river that runs through the valley. They’re a shadowy indication of a figure that lacks any real tangible form that wears a little straw hat. They exchange a cordial nod with Juliet as she gestures for Willow to follow her onto the boat. “We will just nearly make it through here before it gets dark. There’s a safe place to set up camp just beyond the valley.” She mentions, gazing up at the sky. The archer bites her lip uncertainly, considering how she ought to breach the subject. She needs to warn her now that they’re here. The clouds become redder the lower the sun sinks... but she tells herself it's worth the risk. They should only have to endure the dark for a few minutes at most. (And she has survived Wraith's Valley at night before.) They are going to have to face worse later... this counts as practice, doesn't it?

“La de doo, la de doo.” The boatman begins to prattle happily, swaying their ghost-like form from side to side as they row. “Would you ladies like to hear a song?”

“No.” Juliet replies automatically. The boatman is a notoriously bad singer. There is an awkward beat where all they can hear is the splashing of the oars cutting through the water. "Willow..."

"So, what brings the two of you through Wraith's Valley?" The boatman asks before she can find the words herself. "You're brave lasses to travel through here at this hour."

Juliet clears her throat. Damn. "We'll be fine." She hopes so, anyway.

"If you say so!" The boatman hums contentedly. They are just along for the ride, whether it goes well or terribly. The sky bleeds a deeper red and shadows just like the boatman begin to float all around them, in ghostly wisps running along the surface of the water. They all seem to be aimless, minding their own business. Right now there is nothing to be afraid of.

"Willow, this is one of your first lessons. Listen carefully." Juliet begins. This is how Lara taught her. This is what she knows. "You're going to hear voices through here as it gets dark. They aren't real. They're just Husks, crying out for prey that they can suck the souls out of."

"Horrible, horrible creatures." The boatman concedes with a shiver.

"They'll get into your head, use the voices of people you care about." Juliet continues her explanation. She says this in part as a reminder to herself as well. She has to steel herself to whatever might come her way. "You just need to remember that these voices aren't real and you'll be fine. Let nothing distract you, no matter how real they might sound. If you acknowledge them you'll start to see things, too." She bites her lip. "Does that make sense? Do you, ah, have any questions?" (She is not used to being a teacher. Hopefully her explanation suffices... because they are already on the water.)

"Willow." A voice (?) whispers, as if carried there by the wind. "Willow, help!"

 

[starboob]

It’s a happy day, one for the books, as far as Willow James is concerned. She is not sure if she can stuff that much more wonder into her eyes or nose or mouth. Her legs ache, and are admittedly still aching from yesterday’s climb up all of those menacing palace steps, but she is content. She is content especially knowing that with each day, her body will slowly become stronger than it was before. (Perhaps one day her body will catch up with her mind’s capacity for endurance. She can only hope, really.) It does excite her to think that she might put some muscle on her string bean form through her adventures and training with Juliet. (She cannot let herself think about the possibility that Juliet August might be toned beneath her clothes. Not unless she wants to plant her face in the ground and aggravate the bruise that’s already on her nose from crashing into the archer the day before. …Thus the thought only crossed her mind when they stopped for a quick lunch and while collecting those crystals in that magnificent mushroom forest.)

All in all, even despite the hiccup (burp) with the giant bullfrog, the day has been full of awe and she’s excited to review the notes she took with her enchanted pen (it became too difficult to notate and keep up with Juliet at the same time) and press the plant samples (she got permission to take these!) into the already impossibly stuffed notebook. With the setting sun painting the clouds a vibrant (or violent) shade of red, she thinks the idea of an evening boat ride will be quite a romantic way to end their day. (She wonders if Juliet planned it this way just as she wonders if Juliet might think she is a sweet thing from the Other Side.) As ominous as the valley ahead of them looks, she trusts the archer. Juliet August will not put her in harm's way.

Happily, she steps into the boat, flips her baseball cap around so that she can tip it towards the boatman (they mirror the gesture with their straw hat), before she settles into her seat with Lucky on her lap. (The dragon has had quite the day themself and she can tell that she’s going to have a hard time waking them up tomorrow.) While Willow would have loved to hear a song from the boatman, she does not protest when Juliet beats her to a response and waves off the request. Well, serenade or not, this is still quite a charming experience! The shadows in the water are a bit disturbing, Willow must admit, but she guesses that can just be part of the charm as well.

…Ah, if only her romantic fantasy were meant to last as it becomes clear this is not going to be a romantic boat ride to end their evening. When Juliet mentions that this will be her first lesson, the sorceress leans forward and hums thoughtfully along to what she says. She has several questions, naturally, but she doesn’t get the chance to ask when the first voice that calls out to her is none other than Griffith. Ugh. It’s easy enough to not acknowledge his cry for help, because, while Willow James does not make it a habit to hate people (it’s a waste of her energy), Griffith has more than earned her ire. In that, she does care about him but not in the way that makes her heart bleed. Even so, it is jarring to hear his voice calling her name and asking for help, but that makes it easy to remind herself it isn’t real. He would never. She focuses on Juliet, the boatman, and the weight of Lucky in her lap. That all is real.

She pulls the white cape tight around her shoulders (the enchantment earlier that made it twilight colored has since faded) and thumbs over the fabric. This is also real. She concentrates on her breath, taking big breaths in and even longer breaths out. (She used to do this a lot as a kid to still the winds inside of her. At least, grandma Elva told her to picture it like that. The exercises were to help her control her powers so that she could get that child lock removed.)

“Hey, Willow, it’s me,” Dorothea says (it sounds like she’s leaving a message and guilt starts to creep up in her stomach), “I’m at Red’s… where are you? I really need to talk. I need you. Meet me at our booth?”

The sorceress’s brow worries. She closes her eyes and focuses on the texture of Lucky’s spine as she strokes it. ‘Dorothea is on the Other Side,’ she reminds herself. ‘She’s never had a desire to cross the gateways. Red’s is on the Other Side, too. You are not on that side.’ Moreover, Dorothea hasn’t visited Elsewhere since she graduated high school and went off to study performing arts the prestigious Galinas Institute. Willow also knows that she’s abroad at the moment.

As an illusionist, Willow knows a bit about magic that can affect the mind. Though her knowledge is purely theoretical and, given that she is not a secret agent, she’s never had a reason to learn how to defend against them. She’s a scholar. She only comes up with new spells and improves the discipline. Now she’s realizing the folly of that approach, because the longer this goes on the more desperate and personal the voices get. (Sabrina, Ryan...) The gaps in her magical knowledge are coming through with each new voice that tries to tempt her focus. (Meredith, Clover, Leif…) It’s harder to focus on the spikes along Lucky’s spine or the silly tune the boatman hums. (Her father, her mother…)

She purses her lips together. ‘This isn’t real.’

“Where is my little Willow?” Grandma Juniper asks.

“She left without saying goodbye.” She can hear the frown in grandma Elva’s voice. “I thought we raised her better than we did Dahlia.”

“I suppose we didn’t love her the way she needed. I wish she knew she could have told us.”

Willow’s eyes snap open and she stands abruptly in the boat, not realizing she’s disrupted Lucky’s nap, not realizing she is rocking the boat. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t––” she blurts out, her words crashing into each other in her throat. What does she even say to that?

“Willow? Is that you?”

“Come home, Willow. We miss you.”

The shadows in the water begin to stir and when Willow looks down, she can see her grandmas wading in the water. They offer their hands to her and motion for her to join them. (This isn’t right.) The sorceress leans over the side of the boat (the boatman chuckles) and reaches for the shadows, not realizing she's going to fall right into their open maws––

 

[ellarose]

“You dance like a goat.” Lavinia’s nasally voice ineffectively rolls by on the breeze and Juliet rolls her eyes. (…It was that exact comment that persuaded a younger Juliet to take her dance lessons seriously. With her balance and poise, she exceeded Lavinia in skill purely out of spite— to the extent that she performed well enough to become a dancer at the opera house.) The archer knows that the other woman would never leave the comfort of the kingdom and that the probability of encountering her in the wood is unrealistic enough to make her scoff. (This is indeed part of the appeal to traveling through the wood— no possible chance encounters with people like Lavinia Laurence.) A great many of the voices that call out to her have the same effect— or lack thereof— on the archer. The wood is her escape, her safe place to hide. She does not risk drawing attention here the way that she does within the castle gates. The Husks methods are effective on those who have connections composed of reliable threads-- both real and metaphorical, symbolizing all kinds of love and connections. The ones connecting Juliet to all of the people in her life are cursed. (Or severed.) “Juliet… what have you done?” This one accompanies a shiver that travels all the way down her body. No. She takes a breath and shoves it back, tapping her foot idly to stay present. She has conquered Wraith’s Valley before. The only difference now is that…

Juliet casts a glance over at Willow James as the glow of the moon above touches the river and turns it silver. She observes the way her fingers ghost cautiously over Lucky’s spine, the way she sets her eyes forward and focuses on her breathing. Those subtle gestures portray her effort. As the archer hears voices, she knows that at the same time Willow James is hearing her own versions of the Husks calls. It’s relieving that she has already made it this far without any attempts to throw herself out of the boat. She’s doing very well. It was the right call, then, that they didn’t prolong their travels by waiting until—

The pattern of Willow’s breathing changes, immediately catching Juliet’s attention. She’s slipping. (Vaugely, she recalls her own first night through Wraith's Valley. She'd been six, perhaps seven... and she still remembers how tightly Lara's arms locked around her, tight enough to hurt as she struggled and scratched and bit as she strove to respond to the lulling voice that beckoned to her.) While she does not sense that same feral desperation from Willow now, it still compels her to brace herself for a fight.

“Willow, stay focused. Stay present.” Juliet urges her. Willow is responding... and this will only deepen the illusion if she does not act quickly. She considers reaching for her hand, but the sorceress is already standing, throwing off the balance of the boat as she reaches her arms out towards the water. Towards the creatures swimming in the depths. The archer aims an exasperated glare at the chuckling boatman before wrapping her arms around Willow’s waist, not daring to look and see what she might find in place of the Husks this time. (She knows, she knows, she knows). "No! It's not real." She yanks Willow backward just before she can get snatched up and the boat rocks back and forth perilously, water sloshing in over the sides and soaking them both. "Hang on, ladies!" The boatman calls. (They sound much too cheerful for the situation they've found themselves in. But the boatman has always been like this.) They fall backward, missing the seats entirely and landing on the ground in a heap.

Frustrated with their failed attempt to snatch Willow's soul, the Husks masquerading as whoever it was she'd been apologizing to shrieks and whacks the side of the boat, jostling them in such a way that Willow is thrown on top of Juliet. The boat picks up speed as it nears the first drop and they are promptly shaken again. Oof.

Juliet focuses on the way her bruised elbow throbs from the impact. Not on the words, which have found the smallest opening in her defenses and begin to smother her at the first given opportunity. "Marry me, Juliet. You’ll never have to be alone.’" (No, no, no.) "Why haven't you come to save me yet? Don’t you have a heart?"

With a sharp breath, Juliet reaches for Willow's arms and holds tight in part to keep herself anchored to the present moment. Breathe. In, out. It shouldn't be all too much longer. They just have to endure a few more minutes until they reach the end of the Valley and the Husks are behind them. "Juliet, I've come back for you."

"...Lara." Juliet whispers. (It's not Lara.) She shuts her eyes and grits her teeth. She should know better than this. Lara never came back for her. She never will.

"Turn around, Juliet."

"Willow." Juliet says her name, mostly just to say something. To remind herself of who she's with and to focus on something other than the voices in her head. She focuses on the way their chests rise and fall against each other as they breathe, on the warmth of their bodies pressed together. (They're simple, grounding details. Nothing more.) Blinking through the haze in her own eyes, she peers into Willow's to see if there are any remnants of the Husks visions in her own. "Keep your eyes on me. It's almost over."

 

[starboob]

Willow James misses home like a lone wolf misses its pack. It’s only been a little over a day and she cannot help the ache whenever she is reminded of the bits of home she brought with her; the people she carries in her pocket like stones. Worse is that she left without warning, because she worried she’d back down from her quest if she told too many people and set an expectation. She did what she thought was best and tried to ease the burn by leaving letters, but she knows those won't necessarily make it hurt less. So when she hears her grandmas' voices, it's impossible for her to ignore, as guilt wears down her defenses; she knows they are undoubtedly fretting over their grandchild. (They practically raised her and she owes so much of who she is to them. Of course she feels guilty hearing them lament over raising her wrong and she needs them to know that that's not true at all.)

It doesn’t occur to Willow that missing them is exactly what she needs to hold onto right now––she misses them because she’s on the Other Side and she has no clue when she’ll get to hug them again. (And face their loving reprimands for leaving like she did.) However, the prior voices have done their work on the sorceress’s mind and while she’ll later wish she could have been stronger, she is weak when it comes to her family; it’s only natural that it would be her grandmas who cause her to lower her guard. It doesn’t matter that seeing their faces in the water doesn’t make sense; their image alone is enough to convince Willow that they’re here. In fact, in her mind, they’ve traveled to the Other Side to rescue their granddaughter from her foolishness. (But that's not like them. It’s not that it’s entirely out of the realm of possibilities, but Willow knows they will ultimately trust her judgment and make peace with her decision; they will not try to disrupt the path her spirit has chosen and her letters will convince them of her conviction.)

“Willow, stay focused. Stay present.” Those words are lost in a storm as her grandmas coo at her, promising to bake her favorite mixed berry pie if she just takes their hand. She reaches for them, dipping closer and closer to the Husks, not at all seeing or recognizing the way her hand shrivels and decays as the distance closes between her and––

“Oof.” She doesn’t know what’s happened, but she knows she’s being kept from her family and she struggles against the arms that hold her in place. “Let go!” But Willow is a string bean and her struggles couldn’t even free her from a toddler. (Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but her attempts are shockingly weak.)

“Willow, grandma Juniper had another stroke. You have to come home.”

“Please––let me go, I have to go back.” Tears begin to fill her eyes as she imagines her grandma in the hospital; as she imagines not being there for her. The tears soon streak down her cheeks as she breaks into sobs trying to get away from whoever is holding her; trying to get herself into the water so that she can be with her family––they need her. She needs them. She has to be there for them––

Then she hears a shriek, feels herself get tossed on top of someone (who is suspiciously girl shaped) and when the cold river water douses her, that's enough to pull her halfway out of the trance. She blinks a few times, confused and startled by the unfamiliar place she’s in, not yet remembering everything that’s happened in the last few minutes. The haze in her eyes has cleared enough, however, that when she looks down and recognizes Juliet August under her (!!), everything comes back to her at once.

“Oh.” That’s all she’s really able to muster when she fully comes to. Her cheeks flood with red, but she doesn’t move away from the archer, too scared to see what’s happening in the water. (Plus, there's much more important things to focus on knowing that Juliet is underneath her. Not how she expected this to happen, but she’s not complaining!) With the assurance that the other woman is there for her, she lets herself deflate against her form, and looks into her brown eyes, noticing how they reflect the moon above. (Her own green eyes look like two emeralds hidden under the lakes.) Her hand stings and when she looks at it, it's slowly coming back to life though Willow couldn't say what caused it to shrivel in the first place. She guesses it has something to do with the Husks, who continue to call to her, but she is better able to focus on Juliet given that she’s on top of her. (She decides that her favorite sound is Juliet saying her name. ‘Willow, Willow, Willow,’ she repeats to herself in her voice)

She shivers, maybe from the cold soak, maybe because she’s underneath her eventual lover, and nestles herself closer to the archer. (She doesn’t care that Juliet is seeing her with tear-filled eyes––it was bound to happen at some point as the sorceress is a notorious crier. Whether it be over a particularly cute animal, a perfectly grown blackberry, or a situation where she thinks a loved one might be in danger, Juliet August was always going to see Willow James cry over something at some point. That Willow managed to even last as long as she did without crying is a miracle in and of itself.) They hit a few more bumps along the river and while the archer has told her to look at her, at some point, she boldly rests her head on her chest instead. Her heartbeat is a nice sound to focus on. Especially considering the cries she’s hearing now. (“Willow, it was you–– it was always you.”) She reminds herself, again, that some of these voices are too little, too late (so why respond? She deserves better) and that others would never guilt her (like the ones of her grandmas).

The last drop presses their bodies even closer, leaving her with a good imprint of Juliet against her, and Willow wonders what it will be like to lay like this all the time. (Perhaps with less–– ‘No!’) When the boat comes to a stop, she doesn’t fully realize it. Even when the boatman says, “Cheers, ladies. The pleasure was mine. Hope to see you again soon. Toodle lee doo!”

Nope. Willow doesn’t hear that, she just continues to listen to the sound of the archer’s heartbeat like it’s the song she’s going to be listening to on repeat for the next three million years. Luckily, Lucky hasn’t lost their wits and, having grown several feet in size (the boatman whistles in awe), they clutch onto Willow’s bag and lift her off of the archer. Even hanging limply in the air, she is still processing being so close to Juliet. ‘She’s so… soft and firm and warm.’ Her brain doesn’t turn back on until she’s unceremoniously dumped on the shore and even then, she still feels like she’s stuck in a gay little haze. ‘Can we, like, skip to the part where we're together? And can do that all the time?’

Once she’s dusted herself off, waved goodbye to the boatman, they’re off to the campsite. Though the sorceress had been teary earlier, now it’s as though nothing has happened. (Perhaps that has to do with landing on top of Juliet and getting to memorize the rhythm of her breath and the beat of her heart.) At the same time, even with the nice distraction Juliet provided, it’s not as though the voices haven’t had their effect. She might not be crying anymore, but her stomach is swirling with guilt and it all boils down to how she left. (Not just… never mind.) The sorceress lets out a sigh and then quickens her pace so she’s matching Juliet’s stride (why is she so quick!). “Thanks, by the way. I… those Husks are no joke. Do you know what their deal is?” Maybe just maybe the sorceress is curious to know if they’re hurting and can be helped. But perhaps they are just like that, in the same manner that the mists are inexplicably like that. (Just thinking of the mists gives her the heebie-jeebies.) She sighs, remembering also what the Husks used to break through to her. "I've never really been away from home like this. It's weird."

The campsite isn't too far away from the river, as promised, and setting up isn't an ordeal as Willow is able to whirl her staff and conjure up the campsite from her pack. And, thanks to Lucky, the fire is already glowing and warm. (The dragon has already tucked themselves in for the evening and Willow intends to sleep in against their belly like she sometimes does when either herself or Lucky are feeling antsy.) She perches herself near the fire, her green eyes flickering between Juliet and the flames. (She does see how there could be a comparison between a fiery flame and Juliet, but she sees Juliet more as the warmth and light of the flame than anything else.) After a few beats of silence, she asks, "How did you decide to become a champion of love? Did you always know?"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is quieter than usual as they make their way to her preferred site for camping on these journeys. (The reason she replays the feeling of Willow James, pressed up against her and resting her head on her chest for comfort, is... ah, completely practical. Trust her. Even if she can't describe why with words quite yet, she is sure it will come to her eventually.) She is finally able to shake the remnants of that moment off, if only slightly, when the sorceress asks about the Husks. "That is just how they are. How they've always been. Vicious and hungry." She supplies unhelpfully. "Many things in the wood are hungry." (This observation may or may not include Juliet herself, much like the sweet things from the other side could easily be attributed to Willow.) "You must be fast and vigilant, or you will become something's dinner." The campsite is lit softly in the night with with a circular, magical enchantment and little firefly lanterns flickering in the trees. This makes the location indicative of a safe stopping point. Lara told her that a witch once had a lover who often traveled through the wood and she set up various points to offer her safe places to rest her head at night as she made her way through. A younger Juliet listened to this story with rapt attention, with little stars dancing in her eyes. ("Was the traveler you, Lara?" Juliet teased and then her eyes grew wide with disbelief when the woman actually blushed. She insisted on hearing more answers and the woman shooed her away, insisting it was time for bed.) The Juliet who approaches the site in the present only has her eyes illuminated by the external things that glow around her, believing that the story was nothing more than a story designed to comfort a child.

It is undeniable that these points are safe, however, and designed to keep anything that might want to eat them out. This is part of the reason why Juliet thought it best to brave Wraith's Valley to make it there. She'd be restless attempting to sleep anywhere else, especially with a new companion to keep watch over. (While it isn't exactly ideal, Willow James is fine as far as companions go. Perhaps because she comes from the other side and does not look at Juliet like she's...) There are many more treacherous paths for them to brave, anyway, and she must ease Willow into accepting the cruel realities of those dangers.

The archer watches with mild interest as Willow bypasses the grunt work of setting up a camp with a few waves of her hand. (She is admirably prepared.) Exhaling slowly, she realizes her shoulders are relaxing for the first time since they set out. All right, then. She sheds her clothes down to her chemise, hanging up her soaking cloak and dress to dry by the fire. Then she perches herself down, wringing her hair out before holding her hands towards the fire for warmth. A chill set in them-- which is natural, considering she's been drenched with river water. (It has nothing to do with...) Juliet is about to wrap her arms around herself for comfort, but stills cautiously when Willow speaks up. She's gazing at her across the fire with those wise beyond her years green eyes and so she thinks better of it. (What will Willow think if she holds herself while she's watching? She is supposed to be capable and strong. Like Lara was for her. Lara, Lara, Lara. The memories are incessant. She sees her at every landmark, she wonders what she might do in her place. She's never left her. But she left her.) Then comes the question.

"...No." Juliet admits that single truth in the shortest possible manner. No, she did not always know. There is not an easy way to answer this question. When she considers what Willow James already knows, thanks to one Lavinia Laurence, she doesn't know how to approach it. The day that she began is not one she wishes to trace back to in her mind. In fact, it makes her want to hold herself all over again. She settles for gripping her kneecaps. If only Grace were here. "I took this role because it was necessary. I had to clear my name... like Lavinia said last night." ('Juliet... what have you done?' She struggles to silence the voice inside her head. The Husks brought it all back, flashing through her mind with the subtlety of a stabbing knife. 'No, it wasn't me. You know me. You know I wouldn't do something like--' And then she... 'No. Please don't. Don't leave me--') Stop. Everyone leaves and love does not exist. (Not for her, anyway. Not when she's cursed.) With that affirmation, she steels herself. "I am not sure how much she told you. The truth is... the man I was arranged to marry was the first victim of the sickness." Paris Brooks. Ugh. The pain ebbs as annoyance sets in and she decides to exchange one heartache for a lesser one. She stares fixedly into the fire, not daring to look Willow James in the eye. If she does not hear it from Juliet, she is bound to hear it from someone else eventually-- if she hasn't already. Lavinia already informed her that she died. There are some things that best come from her own lips, to ensure that no lies are woven into the narrative. Willow James is sharp. Should she piece together the implications of Elise's announcement last night along with everything else... the implication that she was once in a similar position herself becomes glaringly obvious. Perhaps it is the night, the exhaustion, the need for a distraction that will truly distract her. But she tells the truth. "I held no love for him in my heart. That was quite obvious to anyone who possessed a working pair of eyes. With my ties to witchcraft, many people-- such as Lavinia Laurence-- assumed that I was the cause." (That's how it started, anyway. Until she singlehandedly collected the shards of her own broken heart off the ground, even as they cut her hands-- forging them from glass to steel as she pieced it back together. Now things have changed.) She shakes this off, trying to find something else, anything else to smooth over it.

"I cannot blame them. The day before it happened I stomped on his foot and called him a chicken-hearted gollumpus in public." Juliet's brown eyes flicker amusedly as she considers this memory. Then she catches herself, realizing how this may seem insensitive. Ah. This is exactly why... she clicks her tongue scoldingly at herself, her light dimming. "I really am quite wicked." She chastises herself with a sigh that morphs into a yawn and turns over. (What does it matter if she believes you wicked? She is going to find out eventually and leave you, too.) "I'm going to sleep now. Don't stay up too late... we have a long way to travel tomorrow."

***​

Juliet wakes to the dying embers of their fire crackling softly. It is still dark, the sun only just now brushing the skies with the faintest hint of gold. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she rises absurdly early out of habit and collects her clothes from where they hang. They are now mostly dry. Experimentally, she tries another sip of the Coca-Cola that she saved. It still hisses threateningly at her when she cautiously unscrews the cap, but the taste is flat and not quite as bubbly as before. Deciding it is not quite as satisfying, she decides to down the rest of it before reaching in her cloak for one of the (tragically squished) pastries she saved. (If they do not make it to Millicent's cottage before evening, she will have to hunt for their dinner. That is incentive for them to be on their way.) Because the archer sent Grace with the ogre's hand and also collected crystals from those mushrooms, she is sure to receive a tasty meal as a reward. (...She gets her ear pulled for forgetting and warm meals for remembering. The witch knows her well.) The archer paces, recalling the things she said the night before, and hesitantly approaches the place Willow chose to sleep.

She bites her lower lip before her mouth can quirk into a slight smile at the sight of Willow curled up against Lucky, the both of them breathing softly. (Cute.) Now how to go about waking her up? Juliet is not used to this, clearly, because she resolves that the best solution is to nudge the sorceress's shoulder with the toe of her boot-- very much like she did when they first met.

"Willow." Juliet says. (Why is she so embarrassed? Perhaps because the sight is... cute. Vulnerable.) "Willow James, it is time to wake up."