• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

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

The walk home is warm. It’s that specific type of warmth that only summer can capture; the type of warmth that beats back up from the concrete and asphalt, making summer’s heat near inescapable. If the ocean were still here, it’d be cooler by ten degrees. And if the ocean were still here, they’d hear the waves lapping on the shore, but it’s quiet save for the chirping and chattering insects. (Lucky, pretending they are a frog, tries to catch the mosquitos with their tongue. They’re even hopping next to Grace.) But Willow doesn’t hear the bugs over her thoughts, her mind playing back the events of only an hour ago, haunted by the sight of Dorothea; seeing her completely sunk. Hollow. She thinks too of Juliet’s words and her earnest acknowledgement that Willow might want to stay. She didn’t and doesn’t take offense to the suggestion. She does, however, worry that Juliet might think she is still in love with Dorothea.

She squeezes her staff for comfort, to remind her that it’s there, when Juliet starts on the subject of Dorothea again. (It’s awfully cute when the archer blushes. If she decides to stay in Evermore, and she is considering it, she’ll miss that.) As she talks, she also realizes that they have only ever spoken of the situation in Elsewhere once and the conversation had been cut short for reasons that escape her now. However, while she understands why Juliet assumes Dorothea might have been Willow’s motivation for traveling to the other side, that is not so. Her old friend had come to mind when she fortified her resolve, but she hasn’t kept up with the celebrity’s life since she left Elsewhere. She truly hadn’t known anything was amiss. (Dorothea’s always been a talented actress.) But that is not the sole focus of the archer’s inquiry and she decides to focus on the more general aspects.

“Well… No, I hadn’t suspected anything like this at all.” Willow chews on the inside of her cheek when she admits this, pulling her mouth over to one side. Honestly, the heroine had been surprised to learn about the situation in Folklore and how it has been manifesting as full on beastly transformations. “Our incidents involving love haven’t ever resulted in transformations or even hinted at them. The worry hadn’t come to me until after you informed me about the Lightless when we first met.” Willow has always been of the opinion that the sister realms are interdependent and learning of the Lightless made her wary a similar affliction would come to Evermore in time. (However, she is still not sure whether or not tonight’s incident had been related to this love thing at all. Dorothea… There’s just no way she’d ever become Lightless. But if something is attacking love…) “All that has been happening here are threads snapping, usually after spewing vitriol.”

Well, that had been it. Then Sawyer sent that article from the newspaper with the picture of a couple who had been snapped and… Willow doesn’t want to draw similarities between their eyes and Dorothea’s earlier. So she doesn’t.

“I came to Folklore, because it’s where love first originated.” This is the common and standing belief in Evermore, at least. Whether or not it’s true is unknown, but research has favored this theory heavily and Willow is thusly inclined to accept its veracity. “I also suspected that there might be something going on in Folklore given the causal relationship between our realms. Traveling to the sister realm for an answer made sense for this reason, because I knew if I could find the source in one realm, the other realm would likely benefit. The origin point seemed the best bet with its relevance across our folktales.” Honestly, Willow would have mentioned this much sooner but with the whirlwind that came with her arrival in Folklore and the focus on the Lightless, it slipped her mind.

“The thought was that I’d find the origin point for love, figure out what’s affecting it, and just… fix it.” She blushes and laughs nervously admitting this, knowing it sounds totally naïve. In her mind, she had conceptualized the affliction as little more than some literal black ooze on love— which she pictured as a large floating glowing pink heart— that could be magicked away with a powerful enough spell. It’s very embarrassing to even remember this. “I’d done some research on the source of love at one point and there had been this article that spoke of this…” She rubs her head. “I don’t know, this axis point that connects the realms. Not like the gateways, but something else. The article never identified a location, but the descriptions didn’t sound like Evermore.” It was way too romantic. Way too repressed. Way too gay. It screamed Folklore. “But this is supposed to be where the first thread was formed, between Love and her partner, Fearless.”

“And, Juliet? I am going to think about staying.” She looks directly at the archer when she says this, wanting to make it clear what her intentions are. “You’re right, I do care a lot about this place and the people here. Clearly, there is something happening on both of our sides and I do still think they’re related, but, after tonight, I might want to fight this fight closer to home.” No, she doesn’t really feel prepared to do this on her own, but she supposes she has her friends, her family all here to support her. Maybe Sawyer will finally teach her how to gun-cast? She can get Leif to start a fitness training program for her. Her grandmas might teach her what they know of fighting and self-defense. Meredith probably will want to be in on this now that Charming Street has been officially involved. So, she’ll have her team. Her group. Her people. And it does make her sad to think about doing this without Juliet. Juliet’s been the one encouraging her this entire time and while her friends and family are encouraging… Juliet doesn’t baby her. She gives Willow James, heroine of love, a chance. More than that, she just likes hanging out with Juliet. “But at least I know the other heroine of love is more than capable of taking on the problem in Folklore.” She grins brightly. “We’ll be working on the same thing from our own sides, in that we’ll still be connected.” The thread hanging between their chests doesn’t concern Willow as much, knowing that the fates don’t make mistakes. Part of the thread’s power is bringing people back together, because sometimes the timing isn’t right. And maybe their timing isn’t quite right just yet.

“And I want to make this clear, too. I do care about Dorothea. She’s…” Willow scratches her ear, trying to think of the right way to phrase all of this. (It’s been so long since she’s even spoken about her.) “She wasn’t my first girlfriend,” and Willow isn’t even sure if Dorothea counts what they had as a relationship, “but she was my first love. She was the person who made me realize I had never been loved before. Like, truly loved in the romantic sense.” The entire experience had been surreal for Willow. Sometimes she’s half convinced it never happened, because wrapping her head around that whirlwind romance makes her dizzy. “She was the first person who made me realize that my Princess Charming didn’t only exist in books, but she could be real.” After Dorothea, Willow got more selective with who she let in. She still made mistakes (several…), but she at least never dated anyone who treated her like trash after her. (Well, she did get bamboozled by a colleague once.)

“I guess, through her, I realized I hadn’t been very nice to myself when it came to choosing the people to share my heart with.” Even if everyone around her was saying it, there was no way for her to hear it until it finally slapped her in the face. “That all probably sounds really intense,” she laughs, looking at the ground. (She hops over a crack.) “But I swear, I’m not in love with her anymore. Like, I do love her and I always will, but not like that.” Willow sticks her hands into her pockets and tilts her back, looking up at the few stars she can make out.

“When Dorothea and I were,” she blows a raspberry and rolls her wrist rather than explain the situationship. “As sweet as it had been, we were never going to work. We loved each other and it wasn’t going to work.” Surprisingly, they actually never told each other they loved each other. They always found a way around it. But Willow feels confident in naming it now. “Threads aside, we wanted different things. Like, she wanted to leave Elsewhere and I couldn’t ever imagine living anywhere else.” She scrunches her mouth to the side, knowing that her words more or less imply that this is still what she wants. That she does hope her person, Juliet, will be willing to keep an open mind about this. Of course, it’s not as though Willow would keep Juliet from Folklore, her home. She’d be willing to split her time between realms, but she does feel it’s important to make known that Elsewhere is not a place she wants to be away from.

Willow sighs and looks back up at the sky. “I will miss traveling with you if I decide to stay, you know. And learning from you.” She doesn’t know if she’s been the best student as the results are so minuscule now, but Juliet’s been a great teacher. Of that, she is most certain. “And scheming with you, I’ll miss that. Wish we could’ve done more of it.” She chuckles, recalling everything that happened in Okeanos. “What do you think is happening in Folklore right now?”
 
The more Willow says about Dorothea, the less Juliet knows what to say in response. So she settles for a contemplative quiet, listening to her voice with the soothing background noise of streetlight humming and insect-song. My first love. Reaching her hands into her jacket pockets, she rolls Scaramouch between her thumb and index finger, feeling for the familiar grooves. She imagines the character's empty eyes staring back at her. (Instead of her eyes.) The person who made me realize I had never been loved before. When Willow James spoke of love in the past, Juliet immediately thought her naive. Granted, she still believes this to some extent... but when she speaks of love right now, she has a way of sounding wise beyond her years. She sounds like someone a starry-eyed, younger Juliet would want to believe in as she speaks about love like it's capable of more than hurt. That it can exist-- not just in dreams and the pages of a storybook.

It's silly. Utterly foolish. Juliet cannot let herself fall that far again when no one will be there to catch her. People leave or they hurt her. And Willow James is contemplating staying home in Evermore. Yes, it's true that it was Juliet's idea to bring the notion up in the first place and she doesn't intend to fault Willow for prioritizing her family and friends, either. Hell... if she were her, she'd leave her too. But the nature of the reality unfolding before them now confirms what she already foretold. The lesson she was made to learn over and over before the thousands of cuts she endured left permanent scars. She's supposed to be alone.

...This is exactly why Juliet built her walls so high, isn't it? To protect herself. To make the inevitable goodbye easier to bear. And that's what she's done. She's effectively guarded her heart and so she'll be okay. She'll be fine.

"...Elsewhere is an interesting place. I see why you would want to stay." Juliet observes when the topic shifts from love to Elsewhere. If she were younger and not committed to any long-term responsibilities, she might have wanted to stay. Explore this world she's never known, experience the rare freedoms it has to offer her. Maybe get lost in the other side forever... and let Folklore wonder forever where Juliet August disappeared to. "It's bitchn'." More than that, it's clear that Willow has love here. A soft, warm version of love will remain forever unattainable to Juliet... and she can understand why she wouldn't want to give that up for anything or anyone.

Juliet lapses into silence again when Willow mentions that she's going to miss traveling with her. Learning from her. Scheming. (Briefly, she considers their travels. Stealing the strawberry from Willow's dessert plate, their visit with the clink-clanks, their training session in the lake, the portrait game they'd played at Millicent's house, and the night she braided Willow's hair in preparation for the Okeanos banquet. All the food she introduced her to. It had been... unexpected, experiencing the wood with someone again. Having someone to watch out for other than herself. Having someone to talk to who hadn't once defined or judged her by a collection of untrue stories. That had been nice.) Stubbornly ignoring the ache in her chest, she tries to excuse the admission. She must be saying it by means of formality. In these words, she can hear the decision being made, the goodbye. That's what this is, isn't it? Since her throat is too tight for words, she simply nods her head to agree with the sentiment.

While Juliet does not want to think about Folklore, she supposes she prefers it to the concept of saying goodbye. She breathes out a soft sigh as she considers the state they left her world in-- disrupting the peace of an entire kingdom by unveiling the king's wrongdoings.

"...Amoria will be in a state of chaos. With Queen Viviane's attention spread between her family in Okeanos and Princess Elise's announcement, her enemies may see it as an opportunity to strike." Juliet says, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. "Queen Viviane is a strong and capable leader, so I am not particularly worried about that." Queen Viviane has slain many of the assassins who have crept into the castle by her own hand. She is not one to be underestimated. "However, maintaining the order may come at the cost of Princess Elise's happiness. I will have to check on her." (She may be locked in the tower and quite possibly forced to marry someone of her mother's choosing. Even if it means targeting a prince, Juliet will try to help her if it comes to that.) Then, thinking of Amoria and the events of the banquet, she scrunches her nose up with evident distaste. "Upon my arrival I will undoubtedly be summoned to Amoria by the Stanley and Laurence families anyhow... to heal Lucinda Laurence's betrothed." Gerard. Ugh. She is not looking forward to that. In dealing with the entire Laurence family and him both. "He is a proper blunder-fuck."

Juliet bites her lip. Should Willow decide not to come back with her, she will also have to explain to everyone where the other heroine of love disappeared to. Rumors may spread... despite her having an explanation for it. (She has to hope that no one assumes the worst of her in the process, that their imaginations do not paint some other picture that further damages her reputation.) Princess Elise will be upset, but no doubt understand the reasons why. She always tries to understand. And Millicent... Juliet is not sure how Millicent will react. There is no telling. But she has grown to enjoy Willow and 'Lucifer's' company. Lavinia... she can already picture the snide expression on her face. 'She couldn't bear to spend another second with you, could she Juliet?'

Eventually, they make their way back to Willow's home. Despite their incredibly late arrival, her grandmas await them at the door with concern plain to see in their eyes. They inform them that they heard about the chaos at the faire from their other family members... and while Juliet expects to slip past them unnoticed as they worriedly examine Willow and Lucky for injuries, she's surprised when they insist she be ushered into the kitchen alongside their granddaughter to look at her nicks and scrapes as well. (...Almost as though they're worried about her as well. Her heart clenches, to be looked at like that. To have hands other than her own patching her wounds for the second time that day.) It's... different than what she's used to. Rather than having to shrink away from reprimands while her clothes and hair are fussed over, it seems they couldn't care less about those things. They're worried about them as people, about what they've been through.

Juliet's left with what Millicent might describe as an emotional soup roiling in her stomach as she confronts it. There's worry about the risks rising above her head like a tidal wave, worry for the future. A pinch of envy, perhaps, and sadness for the person she might have been had she always had this sort of care in her life. More than anything, she's tired. The unfamiliar environment and experiences, the realization that soon everything may simply go back to the way it was before she met Willow James. It's a bit too much. It's a bit too much and sleep may be the only cure to clearing her mind.

Once they finish summarizing the events of the evening, Juliet offers Willow a meaningful glance. There's a possibility she may want to discuss her options with her family... and she is more than willing to offer her the privacy to do that.

"It was an eventful day... I ought to go to bed now." Juliet excuses herself with an appreciative nod, collecting a similarly tired Grace into her arms as she backs towards the door. "Goodnight."
 
Willow never makes it up to bed. She stays up well into the early hours of the morning and ends up watching the sunrise with her grandmas on the back porch. She’s nestled between them, resting her head on grandma Elva’s chest with her big arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulder. Despite everything that has happened, the busyness of her day, she cannot bring herself to sleep. Especially with the thought of staying on her mind. Well, to be honest, it’s not so much the thought of staying as it is the thought of saying goodbye to Juliet. Though she knows it won’t be a goodbye forever, that their thread will bring them back together, she finds herself torn between the realms. Both of her grandmas assure her that they will support whatever decision that Willow makes, and they only ask that if she chooses to remain with Juliet that she at least say goodbye this time and not disappear in the early hours of the morning. Though she had written letters and while they don't say it, Willow knows it still reminded them too much of her mom.

Even after the lengthy discussion, she still doesn’t know what she will ultimately decide and she is well aware that she only has the day to deliberate over this. In the short time since Juliet has brought this possibility to her attention, her heart has gone back and forth. Sometimes it will seem very obvious that she should stay— this is where her people are and these are the very people who built up her resolve in the first place. Then she will think of all those she has met in Folklore— like Princess Elise, Milfred, Princes Dylan and Zander, Cassia— and how she considers them as additions to her resolve. She thinks, too, of her commitment to helping Juliet clear her name; how she would like to be there for her when she inevitably has to face that awful man she was once betrothed to marry. She thinks about how she has wished to stand up Queen Viviane on behalf of Princess Elise. Then those thoughts will cycle back into her thoughts about staying in Evermore and how she can still protect and fight for those in Folklore by continuing the investigation in Elsewhere. And this inevitably brings her back to Folklore and the idea the answer really might be the sister realm anyway and her efforts might be more effective there. Then they wander to Dorothea and the affliction she is fighting off, the guilt she harbors for being so frosty towards her old friend, and the desire to be there for her now. It’s endless. It’s confusing. It’s endlessly confusing and while she knows she doesn’t have that much time to deliberate, she figures the answer will come to her the moment they’re at another gateway. She just need to take today in stride. (She ought to mention to Juliet that she actually never got the chance to mark the gateway on her map and therefore does not know its precise location…)

Though she’s no closer to an answer, she is more at ease having talked it out with both Juliet and her grandmas. When she does finally make it up to her room, the sun has already peaked over the horizon and she knows that sleep will not come to her now (ever sensitive is her sleep cycle). While the archer is still sleeping, the sorceress knows her companion well enough by now to know that at any moment she will start to rouse. Willow takes an extra second to admire Juliet, her peaceful features, and the way the sunlight bathes her in gold and brings out the intensity in her hair. ‘I will miss this sight for sure.’ Though it’s honestly not one she usually gets to see as Juliet more often rises before Willow. While she waits for her companion to fully come out of her sleep, she attends to a couple of things, like the message from Meredith waiting for her in the bottle on her desk.

Her heart is like a frightened rabbit in her chest, unsure of what scathing words her best friend has in store for her, knowing full well her offense is great enough to warrant being put into the best friend dog house. Shakily, she unrolls the scrap piece of paper with Meredith’s messy, scrawled out handwriting.

“Willow James, I am deeply offended that you neglected to inform me of your— I’m just kidding. That’s really cool! I’m proud of you, honeybear < 3 You’ll have to tell me everything tomorrow night. I’d come over sooner, but work’s a bitch yadda yadda yadda.

xoxo Your favorite lemonberry.”

She breathes an audible sigh of relief knowing that her best friend of three thousand lifetimes has not forsaken her. (And even used their old nicknames!) Admittedly, her fears that Meredith would be royally ticked were wildly overblown. While the fae has a temper and can be scrappy, she’s never once lashed out at Willow— and Willow has never given her reason to either. Even this perceived offense would not warrant that type of reaction, but the sorceress still worried that she might have damaged their relationship or hurt her friend by not telling her of her plans. Then again, it has been a while since either of them have had complete access to each other’s every waking thought, especially since they stopped sharing a room and no longer spend nearly every second of their days with each other. ‘Of course she’d understand.’ Still, she’ll want to make it up to Meredith tonight, to show her that she is still deeply important to one Willow James, and while her note didn’t specify whether or not she’d be here for dinner… Willow commits to making her favorite. (And she also really wants to cook for Juliet, too, in case this is her last chance for the time being. She hopes Juliet likes hot chicken.)

With that sorted and settled, the next order of business are the photographs neatly stacked on her desk. (The dark room conversion charm is only ever set to last for the length of time it takes for the photos to finish drying. Once complete, it fixes itself up and neatly puts everything back the way Willow intends.) She glances over her shoulder to check on Juliet, figuring that they ought to review these together. (In the event today is their last day, they should try to learn as much as they can together. It will only serve them both as the heroines for their respective realms.) Noting that it looks like the archer won’t be falling into a post-sleep nap (a Lucky James favorite), she smiles brightly at Juliet. “Morning, sunshine. Wanna look at the photos from yesterday?”

However, her smile soon drops when she turns her attention to the photos, forming into a deep frown. The first set of photos, from before the entity went for their thread, only show misty blurs that could easily be blamed on faulty development. However, the ones she took of Juliet fighting with the entity? Those do show a figure, but not the antlered entity. A woman holds Juliet in these photos, dipping her like they’re dancing (it had looked more like a dance than a fight, she remembers). A woman with raven hair, red lips, and a cloak of shadows. (“Sefarina.”) Willow doesn’t ask the archer to confirm anything, but she understands what she has captured is not the entity but whatever Juliet had seen in her minds eye. ‘This could mean it works by using the power of the imagination or belief. Maybe even a combination…’ She chews her lip on that possibility, feeling both relieved and worried by the notion. Relieved because this happens to be an area of expertise and worried, because the implications are not positive.

As she continues to examine the photographs, handing them backwards to Juliet whenever she is done with one, she notes all the other different figures who appeared in the mirrors. Just as with yesterday, none of them are familiar to her but their clothes indicate they are from Evermore. Well, none are familiar until she gets to the last photo. The one that captures those unforgiving piercing blue eyes and perfect sneer belonging to Kinsley Prescot. “Juli—” Just as she’s pointing to the image, it sears in her hands, causing the sorceress to drop it just before it bursts into inky black flames. The flames don’t damage the furniture and go out as soon as the evidence is gone, but Willow knows what she saw. “We definitely need to go to the mall now.”

The heroines waste no time in getting ready following that discovery (Willow clarifies what she saw in case Juliet missed it before the evidence burned). Willow settles on wearing a flower patterned set of short denim overalls with a white t-shirt underneath. Knowing that the mall is liable to be cold, she makes sure to pack a cardigan and recommends that Juliet also bring her jacket. (She does invite the archer to steal something from her wardrobe as all of her jackets are oversized by Willow James fashion law.) Breakfast is simple and Willow apologizes for not being able to prepare something more than cereal and a bowl of fresh berries for them. She also offers Juliet some “wakey-wakey potion” and fails to explain that it’s just coffee. After a quick combo good morning goodbye with her family, they’re settling into Willow James’s car.

She reaches over to flip on the radio and a news reporter is relaying the incident at the Elsefaire. (This also reminds her of what her grandmas said of the incident.) “An unprecedented werewolf attack occurred late last night at the Elsefaire during the closing show. According to eyewitnesses at the scene, the werewolf transformed while within one of the attractions and attacked several fairgoers before fleeing the fairgrounds. Though no fatalities have been reported, three victims remain in critical condition.”

The reporter then runs through a few interviews with apparent eye witnesses, a mixture of attendees and staff, all of them corroborating the story that a rogue werewolf is to blame. Without a visual aid, it’s hard for Willow to suss out whether they’ve been coerced or hexed into telling this version of events. But then she recalls that her own family relayed this very story to her grandmas and while some of her family members have questionable recounts of stories (often prone to exaggeration), she doesn’t think they’d have a reason to outright lie. Then again, she hadn’t seen her family while making her way over to the house of mirrors (not that she had been looking). It’s possible they hadn’t seen anything and just got caught up shortly afterwards. Still… Jovi was ginormous at one point. People had to have noticed a freaking overgrown, mutating deer.

“Authorities are also searching for two vigilante heroes who allegedly chased off the beast. If you or someone you know has information regarding the identities of these local heroes, please call the local tip line at…”

“Fiddlesticks.” Willow purses her lips and glances over at Juliet. Though the call for them to come forward is concerning— but given the lack of description, it doesn’t seem the authorities know who they’re looking for— a thousand other thoughts fly through the sorceress’s mind. The first being Sawyer, knowing that even if she has managed to dodge the werewolf registry thus far, her paranoia might be skyrocketing right now. Then there’s just the overall and outright lie. It’s not even a good one given the level of damage. And someone will have to notice how the wounded victims don’t bear bite or claw marks, rather they're likely to have large punctures and gashes from antlers. Yet people happily report that version of events.

She starts the car, now determined to get to the mall. (She wonders if the Charming Street kids will play pretend or not.) “We should talk game plan for this mall trip, because if that’s the story that is circulating…” She chews on her cheek. “We might want to refrain on bringing up last night until the Charming Street kids do.”

“They also weren’t mentioned in the reports which is strange. Most of them love being in the spotlight.” Kinsley, namely. “And if we’re being asked to come forward… Well, I’m not surprised Conrad isn't able to identify us.” Even though he recognized Lucky, he clearly never connected the dragon to Willow James. “But Kinsley and Dorothea? They definitely would have been able to.” Maybe Kinsley didn’t want to admit she got help from nerds, but what about Dorothea? She doesn't have those same hang-ups. So either she was too out of it to recognize them (a likely possibility) or there's a reason both Charming Street women have failed to name them. “I have a toasty toasty feeling about this... How about you?”
 
Sefarina. The woman has become the chill that raises hair on the back of Juliet's neck. A breath of ice that creeps into her body and freezes her heart. While it's been years since she's appeared before her, her presence is always felt, even when she isn't there. Even when she's an entire world away. 'Shall we play a game to pass the time? I'm going to guess what you're thinking.' Juliet hears her voice ringing in her ears, as clear as when she first heard them while she stares at the photo. She can recall the way it felt like she was holding her face up to the light as she stared inquisitively at her and spoke. (They played this game often at Sefarina's behest. Sometimes it seemed that nothing made her more curious than the inner workings of Juliet's mind.) 'What a boring affair this is. The conversation is all so trite and dull.' A pause for a playful quirk of her red lips. 'If only a beautiful stranger would offer to run away with me right now. I would take her hand and never look back.'

'Boring, yes. But I would not use a word like trite...' Juliet had said with a stubborn frown-- mostly to indicate that her mind could not be so easily read. (And she did not want to admit that she had no conceivable idea what the word 'trite' even meant.) 'Oh? What word would you have used, then?' 'Beeswax.' '...Beeswax?' 'Yes. It is all a load of beeswax.' Then Sefarina laughed. She laughed louder than was considered ladylike, if the glares cut their way meant anything at all. Her laugh was an unashamed melody and would not be drowned out by anyone. 'You are funny, Juliet August... And what about the second part of my assessment?' Sefarina smiled like they shared a secret. Juliet just squinted, confused. 'I can run away by myself. I require no coaxing from a beautiful stranger.' Sefarina raised her eyebrows. 'Really? I will believe that when I see it.'

Juliet smirked and proceeded to run past all of the fancy-clad partygoers and into the lake. Luxurious gown and all, she broke through the still surface of the water with a glorious splash. Because she was thirteen and had a point to prove. (And she'd been baking under the sun in all those clothes.) Princess Elise had excitedly jumped in after her, compelling some of the children and one of the ladies to follow her lead... needless to say, they both had received quite an earful from their mothers afterwards. It was only when she lay in bed later that evening that she realized the romantic implications of Sefarina's words. It started so innocently. 'You are funny, Juliet August.'

'You know, it appears to me that you did run at a beautiful stranger's coaxing. Although I must say, I did not expect you to run into the lake. That was a bold choice.' 'I was not coaxed. And you are not a stranger. I know your name.' 'Yes, I suppose... but what if Sefarina is a false name? Then you would know nothing about me. Think of your name, Juliet August... is that your real name?' Her eyes saw right through her. 'Even so, a name is not enough to truly know someone. We're strangers. But we could change that tonight.'

Where Juliet was purposefully difficult, pushing everyone away, Sefarina made an effort to understand her. To dig below the surface and find what made her soft, what made her laugh... what frightened her. (She thought it was because she cared. But--) At some point, she carved out a place for herself in Juliet's mind. Since then, she's never left it. The proof is now tangible in this photograph, in something she can hold in her hands.

The other photograph burns too fast for Juliet to see what Willow saw, but she believes she has no cause to lie about seeing Kinsley's image within it. If anything, this assessment calms her a little. The entity they encountered can take on several images. Meaning that while it might take her shape, it's not actually her. It's a false Sefarina. A devious creature that will use her face and name against her. The tactics are dirty, yes, but knowing this also allows her time to steel herself for when (if) they meet in combat again. Much like the voices that emerge from the rotten heart of Wraith's Valley, she can strengthen herself with reminders of the reality that exists behind the fabrication. This time she will be ready.

...Juliet knows Sefarina as more than just a stranger now. She will take out all of the imitations until the real one shows her face.

Bolstered by this thought, Juliet gets ready for the day alongside Willow James. While her companion changes, she arms herself with a few spare arrows alongside her knife for protection. (After their encounters the day before, she is not convinced that Evermore is as harmless as once stated.) Then she selects brown just-shorts (it will be the last day she can wear the just-shorts, after all) and a white, red and black striped shirt. She also selects the oversized brown corduroy jacket from her companion's collection, mostly because it looks comfortable, and she's sure to retrieve Scaramouch from her other jacket pocket before heading downstairs for breakfast. (...She will miss the consistent food as well. Traveling alone, her diet consisting of game and berries will resume.) For a moment, she considers asking if Willow would give her a few breakfast bars to take back with her... and then lets the moment pass without saying a word as they're headed out the door. She is sure that Willow James is giving her future plans plenty of thought and does not want to push on the subject before she's ready to discuss it herself.

Just as the Evermore wood entity takes on false images of others, the 'radio coverage' detailing the events of the night also spews lies. Fiddlesticks indeed. In a small extent, it mirrors the way word in Amoria can spread a narrative drastically different from what actually transpired. There is also a call to find them. And given that they know the truth, the implications are obvious that these authorities intend to find a way to silence their side of the story. (The truth. Because everyone fears the truth.) And what has Juliet dedicated her life to if not bringing the truth to the surface? Exposing the monsters wearing human faces to all those they might hurt, forcing them to confront themselves?

Charming street. Admittedly, just the name itself nurtures an urge to punch them in their pretty faces. (The uncharming ones who give her good reason to, at least.) There is something about that pretty facade contrasting the ugly truth that brings out a vehement resentment in her. While she can compare the way stories spread between the worlds, even the royals in Folklore are not safe from scandal. There are plenty of gossips who write about them as if for sport. She was strictly conditioned to behave (...and even that did not work) all to perform for the prying eyes of the public because of it. Forced into the arms of a man she would never love because--

Juliet inhales sharply, unclenching her fists before she can cut herself on her nails. She would have preferred to leave all the luxury behind if it meant disappearing from the public's eye. She would never go back to starving on the streets, fighting for scraps, but... she had always considered there were downsides to every way of life. If these 'Charming Street' residents can have a 'charming' way of life and also escape repercussions for their missteps...?

Dorothea remains an enigma, however. Willow James had mentioned how she yearned to escape the expectations of whatever it is she's supposed to be. (Juliet can understand that much.) The fact she was coping with such an agonizing transformation to begin with indicates something amiss. But still. Juliet was never kept safe from scrutiny. Had what happened to Dorothea happened to Juliet in Folklore, the news would have spread far and wide by this point. (How does Dorothea feel, Juliet wonders, having the blame shifted elsewhere? Guilt... or relief?) There is much more to it than exists on the surface... it goes without saying that something sinister rests at the heart of this issue.

"It's not that strange. I can see many reasons why they would not want to be associated. For one, they would likely be held responsible for ruining the closing show. People got hurt... and the incident itself seemed deeply personal." Juliet sighs, considering the panic in their eyes. The way they were immediately told there was 'nothing to see' when there was everything to see. "The light cast over them by association would be unfavorable. A stain on their reputations..." She looks out the window at the mall. "Beyond that, a published story would give anyone reason to bother them with questions about it. Even if they chose to tell lies about what actually transpired, they would be forced to relive those moments in their minds every time the subject is brought up. When we found them they were afraid. Their clothes covered in blood." She shakes her head. "They would rather forget and pretend it never happened at all. For that reason, I agree that we should refrain from telling them what we know."

With that agreed upon (and after writing documentation of the events that they know to be true-- just to be safe) they exit the car and make their way to the front entrance of the 'mall'. There is a man standing there who asks for their identification, as the place has been 'rented out' and only a select few on a list can be granted access... and while Willow James has her own to show, it quickly becomes evident that Juliet August's family seal from Folklore does not have the same power as an 'ID' in Evermore. The sorceress claims that she will go find Dorothea to sort things out once she realizes her attempts to explain to the guard aren't working... once she leaves, however, worry begins to creep over Juliet that this may be a trap. (...There's been a call to identify the 'vigilante heroes', after all. While Dorothea had made this offer before the evening devolved into chaos, there is no telling what horrors might await Willow inside. What if they are separating them on purpose? ...What if Willow is ambushed inside while she is ambushed outside?) While the guard is preoccupied with greeting a sentient leaf (or leaf-shaped bug) that landed on his wrist, Juliet stealthily escapes from him by diving into the nearby bushes. She proceeds to run through the plants framing the entrance of the mall until she reaches the other side.

Once she's sure she's in a place that no one will see her, Juliet throws the grappling arrow she tucked in the inside of her jacket and uses it to scale her way to the ceiling. From there, she peers inside through the skylight windows until she notices the few people inside. Willow James is only just now joining them, gesturing her arms the way she came. (Perhaps explaining the situation. It does not look as though she's in any danger... yet.) Considering this peace may not last much longer, Juliet quickly finds a skylight she can finagle open and climbs down through it. From there she casually drops down in front of Willow, landing gracefully among the small group that has gathered there.

Confident now that the potential ambush attempt has just been thwarted, Juliet nods at Willow. "...It's all right. I found my own way in."
 
Even though Willow had gone the extra mile earlier and placed a protective charm over their minds, stepping into the mall feels like walking straight into a pool of boiling water. While she is confident in the spell, logically understanding that her magic surpasses that of the average caster (though emotionally, she does not accept this fact), she cannot help but to wonder if it will be enough. In the event manipulations are present, that is. (She cannot imagine that they aren’t. While one of the forbidden magics, when has law ever gotten in the way of someone’s ambition? Especially those on Charming Street who all believe the universe shines and twinkles for them and therefore all their misdeeds are simply means to vainglorious ends? Never. They can get away with anything. They can apparently even convince all of Evermore that a werewolf is to blame for the events last night.)

With a deep breath, she steps forward and lets the blast of frosty mall air slap her in the face as she hurries inside to find the one person on Charming Street who she does trust. Even with that terrible rumor standing in place for Dorothea’s reactive near-transformation, she refuses to judge or cast doubt until she’s spoken with her old friend herself. She owes her that much. It doesn’t even end up being an event to find the woman, despite the mall being so humongous. The second Willow steps inside and bops her curls around, she spots the star gliding past the entrance surrounded by a security detail and her usual gaggle of goons. This includes everyone from last night (save for Conrad) as well as a few others Willow remembers from high school, like Kinsley’s minions. She kind of hopes that they don’t remember her just as Conrad hadn’t. “Dorothea!”

The demigod turns and a smile immediately lights up her face, brightening the halo around her. In spite of everything that happened last night, Dorothea appears fine. More than fine, really. The bruises under her eyes, the nicks on her fingers, are all gone. Her halo is also (obviously) back. No hints or shadows on her face indicate that anything is amiss. But Willow doesn’t read too deeply into this for a number of reasons— namely that Dorothea, by virtue of her divinity, has never needed much recovery time in anything and she’s also a talented actress. “Willow James, I’m so happy—”

Just as Willow is gesturing towards the entrance, just before Dorothea can finish her greeting or even look to where she points, Juliet August plops down right in front of them as if summoned. Everyone blinks in surprise. Some look up at the skylight, obviously perturbed. Two members of the security detail look between each other and stalk off towards the back of the mall, probably to investigate this breach. Willow stares at Juliet, incredulous, then her gaze fixes itself on the arrow. ‘She ducking brought… Well, okay. That’s honestly kind of fair.'

In the end, it’s Kinsely who speaks up and breaks the shocked silence. She rolls her eyes with her usual flair, full lips sneering. (Willow notes that everything about Kinsley appears just fine as well. This is also not necessarily surprising.) “I still can’t believe you invited TJ Maxx and Ross Dress for Less.”

“Kinsley,” Dorothea holds her pleasant smile when she turns to address the socialite. “Go eat a soft pretzel.” Kinsley curls her lip in offense and almost scoffs, but Dorothea cuts her off before she can start again, addressing Juliet this time. “Fancy entrance, Jules. Does anyone ever call you Jules?” She tilts her head, curious. (In the background, the other Charming Street kids slowly start to fan out, most likely bored that the attention is not on them or at least not on something they deem interesting. The only ones who stay are Kinsley and Felix.) “Come, we were just getting started. I’d love to hear about Folklore and this quest of yours, Willow.”

From there, they continue along the mall strip, walking by several fountains with moving statues and flowers that bloom and wave when people pass by. Strings of memories come back to the surface for Willow and it seems Dorothea might be having similar recollections when they both glance over towards the indoor waterfall. Dorothea catches Willow’s eye and then quickly looks away.

“And aside from learning more about Folklore,” Dorothea continues and, somehow, Kinsley’s eye roll is so powerful that Willow feels it coming from behind them. She’s obviously still dubious of their story. “I’m excited to style you, Juliet. I imagine that fashion is different over there?”

“Ohmygods.” Kinsley would probably be dragging her hands down her face in exasperation if there wasn’t the risk of ruining her makeup. “I cannot believe you actually buy that story. No one has been to or come from the other side in centuries— I asked my father about it last night.” She says this like it should close the case on their Folklore travels. Like her father is the ultimate source of knowledge on Folklore-Evermore affairs. “Anyway, if style even exists in Folklore, Jules clearly possesses none of it— by the way, you should drop ‘Juliet.’ You don’t have near enough class to pull off something so timeless and elegant.”

Felix nods his head in agreement, sipping on his iced coffee. “Juliet is like the name of those nasally girls who create their entire personalities around being know-it-alls when really they’re just sentient boils.”

Dorothea rolls her eyes and says nothing. Kinsley smirks, probably feeling vindicated. Willow debates the pros and cons of pointing out that Kinsley sounds like it’s trying too hard to be unique and Felix is what you name a sprightly cat. She bites her tongue, deciding the comebacks aren’t strong enough. Rather than say anything on the matter, she just shoots Juliet an apologetic glance before she changes the subject. Swallowing, she tries to breach the next subject with as much tact as she can muster. “How’re Jovi and Paisley? I don’t see them around.”

Kinsley outright ignores the question and Felix’s disposition reveals nothing. Willow figures the question is a safe way to get onto the subject of last night without directly talking about the events. If she didn’t know better, she would assume none of them were present with how they’re all carrying on with their lives. (Is this just the result of years of PR training? Are they genuinely disaffected? Have they been made to forget or suppress?)

“Oh…” Dorothea’s face drops to a frown. “Jovi hasn’t been doing so well lately. Touring was hard on her and ever since coming back to Elsewhere she hasn’t wanted to be around people.” This is odd, because the companion isn’t shy and has been known to be friendly in the past. “Griffith is looking over her right now. She’s been clinging to him lately.” Dorothea squints up at the glass dome ceiling overhead, then she brings her fingers to her lips and whistles. The sound is melodic and sweet, not bearing any sharpness whatsoever; the potted plants and ivy that grows along the columns all bristle as if awakened by the short song. A second later a golden eagle swoops down from above and shrinks so that they can perch comfortably on Dorothea’s shoulder. “Hux is with me, though.”

It takes Willow a second to place the eagle, but once Dorothea names him recognition hits her like an anvil. The eagle’s eyes are golden, similar to that of his human companion’s, and when his head turns to look at Willow, the sunlight catches on the bird’s eyes in such a way that they gleam and burn her own like a camera flash. Stranger, however, is that her mind flashes with an image of Griffith and she’s not sure whether it’s because she recognizes Huxley as his companion or if it’s something else. (If it’s Griffith actually watching them, to be precise.)

“I actually went to your place not too long ago to ask about Jovi.” Dorothea admits, her cheeks taking on a tinge of pink. It always surprises Willow that someone like Dorothea could ever feel embarrassed. (“Willow, I’m still a person. Of course I get embarrassed.”) “I know your relationship with Lucky is strong and wondered if maybe you’d have ideas on what’s going on with Jovi? I’m worried about her. It’s like she’s withering away.”

‘Are you actually speaking about Jovi? Or yourself?’ Willow wonders this, but keeps the thought to herself as she glances over at the archer then to Grace and Lucky. (Lucky is stiff on her shoulder and she knows it's because Huxley unnerves them. The bird is intense.) While the sorceress doesn’t get the sense that Dorothea is lying and where nothing on the actress’s features betray what might be going on beneath the surface, she has the distinct sense that something is being withheld.

By this point, the small group walks into one of the numerous sleek stores. Kinsley and Felix beeline for a display of shoes giving Dorothea, Juliet, and Willow some semblance of privacy. Dorothea leads them away from Kinsley and Felix, either on purpose or because this also happens to be where the “bitchin’ boots” are.

“There are a lot of causes for companion afflictions. Usually, they’re…” Willow catches Hux’s golden eye again and thinks better of what she’s about to say. Not wanting to give up her hypothesis, she considers a different angle. “Well, it’s complicated. Do you think maybe she’s trying to take a new form? Lucky got pretty sick when they were settling into their dragon form.”

“Perhaps.” Dorothea picks up a pair of platform boots similar in style to the ones Juliet wears. She holds them up to the archer, silently deliberates, then sets them down and selects a slightly different pair, these ones with silver accents. “But would it be normal for a change to happen so late in life? Jovi also seems resistant to it. Like she’s scared.”

“Well, ever—”

“No.” Kinsley breezes up behind Willow, startling her enough that she jumps and almost knocks over a display. The only reason she doesn’t is because Lucky reacts and pulls her back just in time. “Those are hideous. Besides, she’s already tall. She doesn’t need platforms.” There is an irony to Kinsley’s words given that she is the exact same height as Juliet right now, if not a smidge taller, thanks to the heels she’s wearing. “If she’s going to get a boost, it’s heels or nothing. Platforms are for strippers and prostitutes. Are you a slag, Juliet? Because those shoes scream slag.” Kinsley then holds up a pair of classy black stiletto heels with silver bottoms. “These are hot, versatile, and have enchantments in the soles to prevent you from tipping over. So at least you know that falling over won’t be how you inevitably embarrass yourself.”
 
Juliet looks Kinsley up and down, attempting to scrounge up some pity for the ignorant sauce-box before she can form another fist. (Willow James changed the subject before she could suggest that Kinsley drop dead for telling her to drop her name.) It must be exhausting to be unpleasant and wrong all the time... and without possessing the capacity to realize it? Sad. And assuming that Juliet August would trip without the help of enchantments is laughable at best, as someone who has spent years strengthening her core, training en pointe, perfecting her passé and bourrée among other techniques at the opera house. If she falls, it is often on stage and on purpose as her character dies a tragic death. (Ballet was an acceptable pursuit for ladies in Amoria. Storytelling with ones body is a highly respected art form in the kingdom. There were several years that Juliet committed herself to it fully. Training her body to be flexible and strong, to for her body to flow weightless and graceful as a stream.) But just because she has trained en pointe does not mean she's longing to tolerate the offensive stilted shoes being dangled towards her. They're also a personal favorite of Lavinia Laurence, which causes her to hate them even more.

"No." Juliet says, dropping her opinion of Kinsley's choice with the wave of her hand before moving on. She weaves around their small group and ventures forward through the aisle ahead of them, studying the options lining the shelf for herself. In Folklore, everything was chosen for her. From every dress she wore to every ribbon in her hair. Her 'husband'. In Evermore, she has a choice. She might take Dorothea's advice here and there, but the choice will ultimately be her own. "...This is my last day in Evermore. I intend to enjoy it." The faire had been enjoyable until they came along and endangered everyone with their drama. (The event that caused that fucking wheel to stop at the top.) She considers implying this and decides not to. They still need to mind where they step in regards to the night before. Especially as she recalls the man's reflection in the ominous bird companion's eyes. Hm. The archer stops before another black pair of platform boots, taking them from the shelf. These ones will make her even taller. "I think 'the slags of the worlds would know more about versatility than you." She grins mischievously, brown eyes gleaming. "...And fun, too. It is a shame your stilts don't accompany an enchantment for your unpleasantness as well as your lack of coordination."

"...I told you, Dorothea. She's a lost cause." Kinsley snips and rolls her eyes.

Juliet focuses her attention on lacing the boots. She should not punch Kinsley in the face... but the desire is growing, spreading like flames down her arms and into the palms of her hands. She can so clearly recall Lavinia Laurence squawking with her flock of ladies, insinuating that her 'real' mother used to work such jobs on the street. Insinuating that she was dirty because of it. She doesn't remember mama well enough to know what she did to provide for them... but she did know that life was hard. That she was trying. (...Or Lara told her that to make her feel better. Her memories of that time are faded and vague.) When Lavinia began spreading theories about her wanting to end their lives in the wood out of shame, she could not bear it any longer.

If Kinsley hadn't started the day by telling her to 'drop her name' as if that isn't the only thing Juliet's mama left her with, then maybe this wouldn't bother her so much. Just ignore her.

"Your opinion is a lost cause. Perhaps you should go share it with someone who cares?" Juliet rises to her full height in the boots, relishing in the way the platforms elevate her enough that she stands taller than Kinsley. (Good. As it should be.) "I like these ones."

"Cool." Dorothea nods her approval, shelving the ones she picked. Kinsley, most likely realizing that the friend she left on the other side of the store would be her only ally in this scenario, lowers the stilettos and marches off.

They continue to make their way through the store. As they scope out the racks and aisles, Juliet picks out sections in the store that catch her attention and Dorothea gives nudges and suggestions in regards to what garments would best flatter her figure. (The different items they select are magicked into a 'fitting room' for later.) At first, they discuss the dress style in Folklore and the shops where she would go to get fitted for custom dresses. She rolls her eyes while explaining the rules that must be obeyed in Amoria and how much freedom she has in Evermore in comparison. With this in mind, Dorothea grins and encourages her desire to go for a 'rebellious' style that will compliment her intent as well as her platform boots.

Gradually, Juliet considers what they'd been discussing before Kinsley interrupted with the stilted monstrosities she called shoes. Companions. Afflictions. Aside from that admission, they're all acting much too unaffected and calm considering the events that transpired the night before. Though to some extent it makes her wary of Dorothea's true nature, she's inclined to withhold judgement when she considers the golden-eyed bird on her shoulder. The image of the man emblazoned in his eerie stare. Is it there to watch her? To control her?

It's true that they need to tread carefully, but they will have to dig deeper if they want any answers.

"...I'm not sure if it will help, but Grace suffered an affliction two years ago." Juliet scoops Grace up into her arms. She exchanges a glance with her companion, silently asking for her permission before smoothing the fur around her neck back to reveal the scar scrawling around her neck. Her stomach churns at the sight. While she isn't particularly eager to relive the memory-- let alone share it-- this may be her last chance to contribute something worthwhile in regards to this situation before she returns to Folklore. (Her heart aches to recall the sight of Jovi tangled in nets and Grace curled sympathetically beside her.) Alongside that, Willow James has already seen the memory of Brooks with Grace. 'The unruly thing attacked me. Good enough reason to put it down.' "There may be differences between Folklore and Evermore when it comes to bonds with our companions..." Even if she's trying to encourage Dorothea to look inward for the answers to these questions, she's going to tread cautiously with the implications. Juliet is merely sharing her own personal experience, after all. (If anything, it will be telling to see if her response gives some indication of her intentions.) "But Grace suffered because she was so deeply attuned to my suffering. At the time, my entire life was outside of my control." Because a man was doing everything in his power to control her. Juliet's gaze quickly brushes over Huxley, quick enough to miss, before looking at Dorothea again. She resists the urge to stare the bird directly in the eyes and challenge the man hiding there in plain sight. (She doesn't know him, nor what he might be capable of.) "Grace lashed out in unfamiliar ways to protect me."

"We've only just met, so our experiences may differ greatly. I thought I should share what I know." Juliet tilts her head, gently setting Grace down at her feet as she perplexedly examines a pair of pants with holes already torn in them. (Blimey. What happened to them?) "These are..." She likes them, actually. But it's also undeniably strange to see them on display this way. "Should we inform the seamstress about these pants?"
 
Kinsley looks as if she’s deliberating whether or not she believes that someone could fake being so stupid. Her lip curls in a half sneer, barbed tongue ready and dripping with poison. Willow imagines her pupils elongating to snake-like slits with the venom in her gaze. (But then she remembers that Kinsley’s not the snake of Charming Street, even if she occasionally plays the part.) Then it’s gone. For reasons that remain private to the ice queen, she drops her snark. Instead she just scoffs and turns back to the display she'd been looking at before. (The tension Willow had been holding in her shoulders visibly melts away when Kinsley's attention leaves them.)

Dorothea appears mostly amused and shares that same amusement with Willow. Though none of it suggests that they are delighted because of Juliet’s ignorance, just that they can understand the oddness of pre-ruined clothing despite the popularity of the trend across the Evermore states. Willow shrugs, communicating her equal measure of perplexity and Dorothea provides clarification.

“Oh, no need to contact the seamstress, Jules.” She sifts through another stack of folded jeans, pulling out a pair that has been acid washed. Then she lifts up a shirt peppered in holes. “Distressed clothing is in vogue here. My mom absolutely abhors it.” The irony here is that Cordelia Birdsong essentially controls the media and could just as easily change opinion with the numerous publications and networks that she owns. “If you’re a rough and tumble type, you might just want to let a chaotic lifestyle rip the jeans for you.” With an elegant sweep of her hand, Dorothea has the clothes fold themselves and sent back to their original places. “Are you ready to try on your selection? We still have the rest of the mall to crawl through. Willow, did you want to try anything?”

“No, I—”

In that moment a bodyguard from the security detail approaches the trio and carelessly interrupts. “I was told to leave a message for Willow James.” Willow’s brows knit together as she looks between Dorothea and Juliet, but she raises her hand just the same to identify herself. The man nods and presses his finger to his earpiece. His brow twitches, but aside from that he remains stoic in his delivery. “The cabbage is smoothest at midnight.”

Her confusion only increases from there before her eyes widen with realization. ‘Sawyer.’ Only Sawyer would be able to not only find out Willow’s plans for the day, but also send a bizarre enough message to identify herself without identifying herself. She turns to Juliet and Dorothea (she looks appropriately confused, but does not pry) as the bodyguard departs, opens her mouth and then closes it. Hux’s gold eyed gaze sears into her. She can feel it even if she’s not looking. While naming Sawyer alone isn’t enough to out her, the sorceress exercises an abundance of caution anyway. She doesn’t know why Sawyer has summoned her, only that she has and she can only imagine (or hope) that the werewolf wouldn’t do so flagrantly.

“I have to go check on something.” Willow says this to Juliet, hoping that the archer will understand. (She also hopes Juliet makes the connection regarding who left the message and why Willow has to go. Willow had explained the werewolf situation in Evermore to Juliet earlier in the car, so she’s certain the archer will empathize.) While she doesn’t think that Juliet would object to cutting the shopping trip short, she also understands the need to continue gathering information. Dorothea seems comfortable enough around Juliet that it’s likely she’ll open up. “I’ll be back.”

Before Willow leaves, she considers offering reassurance that Juliet will be safe but with Hux on Dorothea’s shoulder, she’s actually not sure that’s true. Again, she’s torn on whether to leave or stay, but ultimately trusts that Sawyer might’ve glimpsed the future and deemed this call safe. Still, she’s not entirely comfortable with the prospect of leaving her companion in a city unknown to her, with company she’s not familiar with. Dorothea may be a friend, but there’s no telling what might happen as the day progresses. As in, what if she starts to change again? What if there’s an attack?

Lucky seems to understand Willow’s concerns and flies from her shoulder to Juliet’s. ‘Just in case,’ the gesture says. “Lucky will take you and Grace back to my grandmas’ if everything finishes up here early.” It goes without saying what else Lucky will do should they have to cross that bridge.

Then, just before she leaves, she approaches Dorothea, hesitates when she catches Hux (and another glimpse of Griffith), stares at the bird, and wraps her arms around Dorothea anyway. Dorothea’s face reflects surprise, for the most part, but she does return the embrace. “You should come over for dinner sometime. My grandmas miss you.”

Dorothea watches as Willow leaves, her eyes not leaving her until Kinsley hisses her name from across the store and gives her a harsh, albeit questioning, look. It comes off as both worry and a reminder and Dorothea quickly refocuses her attention shortly thereafter. “I hope everything’s alright with Willow. She rarely leaves so abruptly.”

The pair then head into the fitting room set at the back of the store. The fitting room has a number of brightly lit stalls that line the walls, all leading up to an obnoxiously sized three panel mirror, backlit with golden lights. A couch and two armchairs are placed in this back section for company.

“I’ll just be out here. If you need help, just holler.” Once Dorothea settles on the couch, Hux hops off of her shoulder and perches on one of the couch’s arm. Dorothea idly strokes his head, lulling the bird’s eyes closed. Lucky stares at the bird for a hard second before gliding closer to Dorothea and settling at her feet. She smiles and strokes along their spine and Lucky nuzzles against her calf. “I am sorry to hear about what happened with your companion. And yourself.” Whether or not the other woman identifies with the experience is not revealed when she shares these condolences. “Grace seems so mild-mannered now.”

“To feel at such a loss like that… I need not imagine it.” Dorothea’s words are measured, careful, and yet also fall from her lips as water does from a waterfall. Her tone is casual, conversational. Hux’s eye peaks open and Dorothea starts humming a lullaby. His eyes flutter closed again. Even Lucky’s start to lull a bit at the demigod's tune, but they shake their head and fight it. “My life is different than how I expected it would be. Very different.” Her hand falls to her chest, resting over her heart. “Of course, I understand how fortunate I have been, too. It’s just been an adjustment. Expectations versus reality.” She rolls her wrist through the air lazily.

“Willow and I used to talk extensively of where we’d go outside of Elsewhere.” Lucky perks beside Dorothea at the mention of their companion, leaning against her as she reveals bits of their past. “She wanted to go to the moon, because it was the furthest point she could think of away from Elsewhere. I told her I’d rather go to Saturn.” Dorothea snorts at this recollection. Lucky tilts their head to the side, looking at the woman. If the dragon could raise an eyebrow, they would be. “We were so naïve.”

“Anyway,” Dorothea, with the effortless grace that comes natural to her, gently steamrolls onto a different topic. “Jules, are you ready? Depending on what you like here, I can show you other stores that have your preferred aesthetics.”

When the archer steps out from the dressing stall, Dorothea encourages her to stand on the slightly raised platform before the three mirrors. The woman then steps behind Juliet, looking over her shoulder at her reflection. She clicks her tongue with a slight smile. “Damn. You look killer.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Kinsley is going to have a conniption over this. But she should really stop betting against me.”

Dorothea excuses herself to grab Kinsley and when Kinsley struts in (possibly now wearing a taller pair of heels), arms over her chest, she stands with her hip popped, taking in all the details. Her eyes scrape over Juliet with scrutiny, mentally tallying up all the flaws. Her lips stretch into a thin line. “Well. Edgy is an easy gimmick to pull off.” Which is to say the influencer's angry that Juliet doesn’t look like an entire troll village after having rejected all of her ideas. “This also doesn’t change that she’s going to need a fucking lobotomy to act the part. Major personality dialysis.”

“Kins, sometimes I wonder if you still have ears because Juliet was literally just telling us she’s nobility and I know you were eavesdropping.” Dorothea smirks. “Don’t be mad just because you were wrong. Again. So not sexy, babe.”

“Whatever. How'd you even know she'd fit what Pantera's going for?”

“Hmm…” Dorothea puts an arm around Juliet’s shoulder. Through the mirror her eyes track around the room, quickly looking over Hux (eyes still closed) before her violet eyes settle on Juliet’s brown ones through the reflection. “I have a sense for these things. Jules and I are birds of a feather.”
 
The glance they share in the mirror tells Juliet (mostly) everything she needs to know. The man hiding in the hawk's eyes was nearly enough evidence as it was, indicating that she cannot go on about her business without being observed as though she's a small child-- but the sight of Dorothea's eyes darting around to ensure that it's safe before meeting her gaze confirms it. She's unable to make any sudden movements because, in some way, she is trapped. (Birds of a feather. Juliet can remember searching for eyes in every shadow, tensing at every sudden noise, sending wishes to the heavens that the footsteps walking past her bedroom door would simply walk past it. It'd been a hellish time... and she sends her heart to any woman who finds herself similarly tortured.) Evermore and Folklore are quite different. And this is her last day... with that in mind, she intends to do everything she can with the remaining time that she has to help. Rather than say anything, she gives just the slightest tip of her head to nod. I understand. Out of respect and a desire to keep Dorothea safe from whoever is waiting for her to slip, she doesn't inelegantly ask to confirm anything specific. She'll find another way... and now understanding the way these fitting rooms are set up, she's beginning to form a plan in her mind.

They begin moving from store to store. Juliet studies the styled mannequins they pass, picking up on new ideas and trends. Sometimes Kinsley will see what she's staring at and automatically reject it. Sometimes she does the exact opposite and commends her eye while dropping some fancy name that the archer cannot be arsed to remember. ( She doesn't dare to assume that she's 'warming up' to her in any way, as the woman immediately finds a way to turn what could be compliments into insults. Juliet always holds her ground, serving back similarly sharp insults of her own. Their verbal sparring hasn't ended with any broken noses, perhaps thanks to Dorothea's presence... but the day isn't over yet.) They take a break from clothes to look at accessories and jewelry. Dorothea recommends she try different black chokers and bracelets as well as a few silver pieces. When they realize Juliet's ears are pierced, they browse through the earrings as well. There are many that come in shapes and sizes she's never seen before. While she has two piercings on each ear herself (mother was not happy about the second piercings, which she had gotten on a drunken night in a faraway village) the archer finds herself staring at some of the advertisement photos where people wear multiple piercings all over their ears. She noticed a few people with such piercings at the faire the night before. Hm. If she weren't returning to Folklore... Ultimately, Juliet ends up selecting silver arrow-shaped earrings and hoops. They're subtle, small and won't get in the way during a fight.

As they gather more options, Juliet ends up trying on various new items. There are the black and denim short skirts, similar to the short pants, which she is encouraged to try with various belts, knee-high boots and tights. There is also a short red dress which she layers with a black halter top (Kinsley condescendingly applauds her for understanding how 'layering' works, acting bossy as ever as she hands her a 'superior' halter top to try with the dress.) Thus far she has been avoiding the short-shirts chosen for her thus far, which would show off more of her skin... but she eventually decides to try one on at Dorothea's suggestion. It's cold in the air-conditioned store. That's why she's shivering. It's not because she's showing off more of her scars before the multiple mirrors. There are two along her lower back, which cross over each other and another along her abdomen.

"Gods." Kinsley says while examining her body, raising her eyebrows with her usual tact. "The Pantera will cover your arms at least. But the rest of this?" She gestures up and down with her perfectly manicured nail. "Absolutely not. What the hell do you even do?"

"Kins, seriously?" Dorothea shoots a chastising glare her friend's way before approaching Juliet to take a closer look. At this point, she can read the unspoken apology in her gaze alone. "You're totally pulling this off, Juliet. You're toned... and I think Kinsley's just jealous."

"Are we really supposed to buy that she's noble when she strolls in here looking like an ex-assassin?" Kinsley crosses her arms. "She's probably a pathological liar."

Juliet thinks that assessment is rather ridiculous coming from a 'Charming Street kid'-- who had direct involvement in the events of the night before. The archer will never go as far as to label herself a saint who has never lied before in her life... but it doesn't eliminate the hypocrisy. Unless Kinsley genuinely doesn't remember what happened, it's clear that she's performing as well. Lying about something. The archer feels the inner fire challenge her about it upfront... but Huxley's presence, even whilst the bird drifts in and out of wakefulness, has her biting her tongue. It'll endanger herself and perhaps even Dorothea to carelessly mention it now. However, this isn't going to stop her from collecting information. To gauge reactions on related topics.

"No. It's simply that I escaped that way of life... somewhat. Through my responsibilities to the kingdoms." Juliet offers, tilting her head as she considers it. Technically, she received many of her scars before she began her work as a 'heroine'. "A dastardly affliction has befallen Folklore..." Kinsley's already tuning out, having deemed all of this 'dorks and dragons' nonsense. The archer continues nonetheless. "One that transforms ordinary people into monsters." This causes her to look up again. While she has her attention, there's no indication yet on whether or not she's touched a nerve and the air is still. Juliet carries on cooly, indicating none of what happened last night or its possible relation. If they know, they know. She's treading much too closely to the issue at hand to act sloppy. She'll only bring it up indirectly by discussing Folklore. A world completely unrelated to their own. (Or so it might seem on the surface.) "Their heart-glows dim and they change. Therefore we call them the Lightless." She tilts her head. "Thus far, I am the only one who has found a cure. I am a noble woman, make no mistake, but the kingdoms have no other choice. I'm the only one they've been able to rely on thus far." Until Willow came along, that is. But their time together may be nearing an end. While she's tempted to credit Willow's recent contributions, she doesn't want to mention it in front of Huxley. They're searching for two heroines. She doesn't want to bring them any more attention than they've garnered thus far. If she leaves and Willow stays, it will be Willow who must live with the remainder of this issue. "I am required to travel across the wood to locate those that have escaped. It's dangerous work." She nods. Probably best to imply that she's not investigating or staying for 'Charming Street'... as perhaps that will discourage them from taking any risky actions against her. "It's urgent that I return soon for that reason."

"...That's a lot to take on alone." Dorothea empathizes after a long period of silence, keeping herself composed on the surface level. She hums softly, as she's been doing periodically throughout the shopping trip, keeping Huxley in a relatively drowsy state that filters in and out. "It's cool that you're spending your day off with us, too. We'll make sure to show you a good time today. You're gonna love the jacket." She turns to Kinsley. "That said... I'm thinking make-up next?"

Juliet's not so certain if this part is a 'good time'. She struggles to sit still as Dorothea and Kinsley have her sit on a stool in the make-up department at a store that smells heavily of perfume. They get to work selecting an array of palettes and lipsticks for her. (She selects a striking shade of pomegranate red when Dorothea presents her with options-- earning her a knowing smile. "Oh, that's one of my favorites. I knew we were birds of a feather." She nods approvingly as she applies it. "Red's definitely your color.") Kinsley proceeds to try and help her achieve a 'smoky eye look', leaning in towards her face with various different brushes. By some miracle she does manage to style her eye shadow in a way that looks presentable. But Juliet flinches back from her touch so often that she decides applying eye-liner at this stage is way too risky-- insisting that she and Dorothea should teach her to use it instead and hope that she has better results doing it herself. She is given various novice tips in regards to getting her lines even for 'wings', such as using an object with a straight edge. Juliet casually uses her knife to accomplish this task. It suffices.

After this, they sample some perfumes as well. Juliet takes one of the strips of paper used for testing, spritzes it very lightly with fragrance, and then slips it into her pocket. Huxley is watching, so she's sure to examine the bottle of perfume she just used as if to commit the name to memory.

They return to shopping for clothes once more, looking over their assortment of selections thus far while finding a few last minute pieces to the pile. They're now in the process of assembling finished ensembles for her to wear with the Pantera jacket. Juliet models while Dorothea and Kinsley discuss their options with serious expressions. They'll look her over, take certain things away and then give her new items to try. (These two take shopping to a level beyond that of what she and Willow explored the other day. This mall is filled with what seems like endless options... Juliet doesn't mind it so much, considering that everything is so fascinating and different.) That said, there are some styles that are reminiscent of styles in Folklore. Like the soft white blouse she pairs with a black vest she tried on earlier. (Kinsley had approved of this choice, stating that it adds something chic to her edgy aesthetic.) Continuing to take notice of garments she's familiar with, Juliet notices the unique ways that corsets are incorporated in Evermore. When worn with pants or short skirts, it's bold and flattering. She's willing to try bold while she's still here.

...Well, that and it also gives Juliet a means to enact the plan she's been working out. Ever since mentioning the afflictions in Folklore, she has mostly kept up with small talk unrelated to anything of interest. (Enough that the man spying on them might get bored, might lose interest... might lower his guard.) She selects the black corset she sent there earlier, a garment with lots of ribbon in the back-- the sort of thing that anyone would need help tying. "Dorothea? Would you mind helping me with this?"

"No problem." Dorothea joins her in the fitting room, closing the door behind her. Good. Huxley naturally stays put outside with Kinsley, Lucky and Grace... which is exactly what she was counting on.

Juliet pops her new tube of lipstick open and uses it to write on the fitting room mirror while Dorothea ties the corset behind her.

'Is there some way I can help you?' Juliet earnestly meets Dorothea's gaze in the mirror and then vaugely tips her head towards the fitting room stool, where she left the slip of paper from the perfume counter and the eyeliner pencil from the make-up kit she'd been gifted. (Complete with make-up wipes, which she will use to wipe the mirror clean when they're finished. No evidence left behind.) Perhaps she could write a date, a time, a place? Anything sort of hint that can give them an indication as to what they can do to help. Her heart pounds in her chest as she continues to write on an impulsive thought. 'Folklore isn't Saturn. But it is far away.'

The implications carry a rather bold offer, Juliet knows. Even bolder yet to suggest it without asking for Willow's opinion first. But Willow isn't here right now-- as she's busy checking on Sawyer, who she can only hope is all right considering what she'd been told in the car before. What she does know is that the sorceress cares very deeply about Dorothea, that she wants to help. Dorothea is also exactly the sort of person Juliet has dedicated her life to helping. If she needs to go somewhere far away, then perhaps she could help her find a safe place to hide and heal by taking her to Folklore. Millicent may even have some insight on what's been happening to her.
 
Dorothea’s fingers slide along the black ribbon to separate the two ends as she adjusts the lacing. She slips a finger between the corset and Juliet’s back, ensuring a snug fit once she tightens them. She doesn’t immediately notice what the other woman is doing, focusing herself on making sure the bow is just so. “I miss…” She trails off having lifted her gaze to examine Juliet in the mirror only to see the message written in lipstick. At first she makes no indication whatsoever what she thinks of it, only clearing her throat instead as if that is the reason she stopped speaking. “I miss wearing stuff like this. I mean, I never chose rebellious looks for myself—” Kinsley snorts from outside of the changing stall. Dorothea rolls her eyes. “But I loved corsets, crop tops, and the like. My management team thought it was too risqué for my young fans and that I might corrupt them by dressing as Kinsley would say,” she raises her voice here, as pointed as it is playful, “a slag.”

“That’s actually exactly what I said. Good to know you’re not going senile, Thee.” Kinsley’s smirk can be heard in her tone even if she cannot be seen. “And that came from Cordelia, technically. I thought you mostly pulled it off.” Somehow she manages to imply that Juliet absolutely does not. “What did you expect? You’re Evermore’s sweetheart, babe.”

“Yes, and the pressure to be perfect is paramount.” Dorothea says this while not really addressing Kinsley. Instead her eyes are trained on Juliet. ‘Thank you, but…’ she mouths, shaking her head as she reaches to take one of the small slips of paper. She presses her thumb over it and a yellow light glows under the touch, and once it goes out she hands the slip to the archer. ‘Temple of Fearless. 2am.’ “It’s a lot.” Casually, she both finishes what she had been saying and offers a brief explanation for her decline. Shadows then dance under Dorothea’s eyes for a split second, disappearing almost as soon as they appear. It's quick and still unmistakable. She inhales sharply through her nose and pinches the bridge before excusing herself under the guise of giving Juliet privacy to finish the ensemble.

Outside of the stall, Kinsley’s standing and it appears as though she might have been moving towards the dressing room; however she sits back down when Dorothea emerges. She tilts her head to the side and Dorothea shakes her head, taking the place beside her friend as they wait for Juliet to finish up. Kinsley and Dorothea both check on Hux (sleeping) before chatting between themselves.

“After this we need to go over to the Stakes’ estate.” Kinsley pretends to keep her voice low, but it’s conveniently loud enough for Juliet to still hear. “Someone actually got a glimpse of the heroes.”

“Oh?”

Kinsley nods. “Sabrina got a security guard to squirm. You know how she is. Anyway, it’s a crappy imprint but they do know to look for an archer now.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Like, good fucking luck. It’s 1989 who the fuck shoots a bow and arrow?” Despite her words, both women give a knowing look between themselves.

“Do they have information on the other hero?”

“No." Kinsley looks over at Hux and Dorothea starts humming, just in case. "But they’re probably going to find Willow once they figure out Lucky was there. The dragon is…” They both glance at Lucky, who stares back at them. “Pretty easy to identify. They were the fucking school mascot senior year practically. Fucking Willow James.”

Lucky hisses at Kinsley. Kinsley cuts them with a glare. Dorothea pulls Lucky into her lap, soothing them by stroking down their spine. “But do you think they'll believe Willow James,” Dorothea doesn’t say her name with judgment, but she does imply her meek reputation, “was actually involved?”

“... Dorks and dragons? No, but they’ll ask if she knows anything.”

“Fuck.” Dorothea bites her lip. Kinsley purses hers and nods. “They’ll sift her for sure if they suspect anything.”

“And if there’s anyone who can make her squirm, it’s Sabrina. She was so obsessed with her freshman year." Kinsley rolls her eyes and twirls her fingers through the air as she sings, "Stalker, watcher, psychopath.”

Lucky hisses again and this time Kinsley just ignores it.

“You know she hexed you for spreading that rumor.”

“She—” Kinsley’s voice raises several levels as she becomes apoplectic in her rage. “She what!?”

Dorothea smirks, satisfied, then turns to the dressing stall. “Are you finished, Jules? I am just dying to see you in the Pantera jacket. I think you’re going to love it.” Kinsley is still beside herself, visibility trying to put together a timeline of when the alleged hexing might have happened. Dorothea snaps her fingers to summon the jacket, laying it over her lap. “When we’re finished here we can go to the food court then the actual Pantera storefront to add button flares— some have enchantments, too.” Rather suggestively she adds, “Maybe you can find something for Willow? Since she missed today.”

*************​

The second that Willow had made it out to her car, she barely waited to slip into the driver’s seat before she opened a Presto Path to the university. Though the wolf hadn’t indicated her location, the sorceress figures that she will start there and, if the wolf is missing, she’ll then cycle through the precincts until she finds her. As she runs through the halls and makes her way to the basement, it’s only natural that several of her former students try to stop her and, not only that, she has to duck and hide when she spots Carmilla le Roux’s looming figure gliding to her office.

In total, it takes Willow six minutes and thirty-six seconds to get to their lab and throw the door open. Only, once she's there, she discovers... “What the duck!?”
 
Millicent Saffron (otherwise known as ‘the infernal eater of souls’ or Milfred) dramatically spins herself around in one of the lab’s office chairs to face Willow. Unused to the newfangled chairs with wheels, she overshoots her spinning momentum and whips around five times before slowing down enough to change from a motion blur into a figure who can meet Willow James’s surprised, green-eyed gaze. The witch of the wood strokes the abnormally large worm on a string draped over her arm like a luxurious silk scarf, its body changing color every time her fingertips glide over the soft chenille. The worm’s googly eyes shift from side to side like those of the paranoid portraits on her walls… in her cottage. In Folklore. Where she distinctly isn’t right now.

“What the frick frack applejack indeed, Willow James.” Millicent nods empathetically, as though she possesses a deep understanding of her current plight. She raises her arm, indicating the worm. “Do you like the offering I received? A new friend. I am trying to think of a new name…” She sighs. “And Scaramouch is already taken, as I’ve been informed. Drat!” She pulls her mouth to the side, glancing down at the worm. “Drat. Do you like that?” She tilts her head, watching as it turns an embarrassed cherry red, and then shakes her head. “No. Of course you don’t.”

Millicent reaches behind her and produces a blue bag of chips she also received as a gift, twirling her finger as it hovers towards Willow and waggles temptingly. Shake, shake. “Care for a triangle?” She grins, eyes gleaming. “Careful. They’re crunchy.” She says as if she is now the expert on triangles (Doritos) and Willow is the one who never experienced them before today. “Crunchy like branches, come to think of it. I recommend eating the ones in the peppermint bark forest when you return to Folklore.”

Speaking of crunch… there’s a crunching noise before a burp sneaks out of the vat Willow had to help Sawyer seal closed the day before. “Patience! You must wait for your maker to return.” Millicent scolds. She tips the lid open just a sliver, slipping a ‘triangle’ through. “This is the last one.” Then she drapes the worm on a string over the vat. The thing’s long nose curls over the lid and seals it securely shut like a padlock.

“Lucifer did not accompany you.” Millicent observes with a forlorn sigh, tossing the chips aside with the flap of her hand. The bag lands on the floor and a curious Jeffery Von Willigans inspects it with their twitchy pink nose. (They’re currently dressed in ball gown and a white-powdered beehive wig with a tiny ship tangled in the tresses.) “Because they are with Juliet, I know.” Her eyes flash a bright amber. Without any warning, her head vanishes from her shoulders.

Meanwhile, Millicent’s disembodied head appears in the dressing room mirror just as Juliet begins to clean the lipstick messages from its surface. The archer stills, pausing mid-scrub, but doesn’t give any indication that this sudden appearance has shocked her. (Millicent appears everywhere and she’s gotten all the jumps and starts out of her system a long time ago. That the witch has managed to appear in Evermore isn’t all that shocking… if she can cross over, it does not seem so strange to her that Millicent would be capable of doing so as well.) Still, she glares and brings a finger to her lips. Quiet. Dorothea and Kinsley are talking outside. Millicent tilts her head, listening intently alongside Juliet. They wait together until she’s addressed.

“…Yes, I’m nearly finished.” Juliet assures them. Millicent raises her eyebrows suggestively, looking her up and down. Giving her opinion on the ‘make-over’ with a series of weird expressions alone. The archer glares, scrubbing over her reflection in retaliation. The witch scrunches her nose up as if she can feel this and vanishes with a huff.

As Millicent’s head disappears in the fitting room mirror, it reappears on her shoulders in front of Willow James. She smirks and laughs mischievously. “Exchanges such as these will be eminent, Willow James.” She threads her fingers together. “The day you and Juliet met, the worlds collided again. Pathways that weren’t previously possible are possible now… and there is not undoing that now that it is done. There are plans in motion.”

Whirling a finger around, the witch of the wood tries to summon her trusty tome. The ‘not bees’ jar ends up in her hand instead. “Toasty toasty. Not the ‘not bees’!” She clucks her tongue. “I keep forgetting.” She mutters softly under her breath, pressing a fist to the side of her head and mussing up her short hair. Apparently the change of environment is messing with her usual spells, if only a little.

“… Alright, alright. Allow me to explain.” Explain what, exactly? That isn’t explicably clear yet, but it seems that she’s getting there. Slowly but surely. Millicent holds a single finger in the air. “There are three rules. Number one: the parallels must be parallel to each other. Physically and metaphorically.” She adds a finger to holds up two. “Number two: a mirror must be present on both sides.” She snaps, summoning a derpy fish-shaped mirror into her hands. “We used this one.” She proceeds to toss it carelessly over her shoulder after making this point and holds up three fingers. “Number three: both must possess the desire to trade places. Even a moment’s hesitation could cause things to go toasty toasty.”

The witch of the wood plops herself down into the chair again, spinning herself around another couple of times. “You and Juliet are an enigma… much like your world-piercing thread. The rules do not apply to you.” She taps her forefinger to her chin. “Perhaps because of the world-piercing thread?“

Millicent nods to herself, gaze fluttering to the ceiling when she wonders whether or not she’s said everything that needs to be said. “Any questions?” She tilts her head and then adds the next bit on like an afterthought. “Oh and beware. The glitzy glitzes on glitz-street know to search for an archer.” She warns her of what she heard on Juliet’s side. “It is also probable that they will identify Lucifer and send ‘Sabrina’ after you.” She bites her lip contemplatively. “There was also something about a vampire weapon estate.”

***​

Juliet leaves the fitting room behind as clean as she had entered it, not a lipstick smear (or witch’s face) to be seen. The slip of paper is folded safely in her pocket. Her arrows have been rolled into her previous clothes, safely hidden but also accessible should she need them. Dorothea and Kinsley’s conversation had sounded enough like a warning to her that she thinks the place and time she’s been given is not a trap. (The possibility always exits, though, and so she will make sure that she’s prepared regardless.) Huxley had not appeared before, when she scaled the wall. But the others were. Arrows are a last resort and she will use her dagger instead if need be.

Temporarily, Juliet’s attention is captivated by the various different smells wafting from the place they call the ‘food court’. It is strange to her, to see a place that must normally be filled with people this empty. Princess Elise would never be able to reserve the market square this way. She’s spent most of her life within the castle gates— if there is a particular seamstress or food she desires, someone else is sent to fetch it for her. If they enchant her enough, they receive rooms and full-time employment in the caste itself. Reserving entire locations, the blame being shifted to werewolves… Juliet is curious to know what Dorothea thinks. (It remains unchanged that she wishes to help her. But she’s masked her own emotions long enough to see that Dorothea has an impeccable one. She’s still not sure if she can fully trust her yet.) Rather than venturing off on her own, she follows Dorothea and Kinsley’s lead to try the ‘soft pretzels’ that’d been mentioned earlier. They’re pleasant enough. (The crispy coral-shaped cakes are superior, though.) The conversation is kept mostly light and inconspicuous as a drowsy Huxley follows them around.

The Pantera jacket is a sleek black leather jacket which quite possibly fits Juliet a bit too well. It’s so uncanny that even Kinsley can’t find anything cruel to say. (Although this may be because she’s stewing in a quieted rage trying to trace when she’d been hexed without her apparent knowledge. Juliet may know something about this hexing already, but chooses to hold her tongue.) At the shop front they have her pose with it draped over her shoulders, some where she’s instructed to pull at the collar in a certain way, and then some from the back— which has enchantments that give her fiery wings. (Juliet does not like this one very much and nearly drops the jacket to shake the flames off before Kinsley deactivates the enchantments with a ”Don’t you dare.”) Juliet decides the enchantments aren’t for her. They add a few last touches she picks something for Willow at Dorothea’s suggestion.

When it seems that everything is finished, Juliet offers her Grace-less shoulder for Lucky to land on. The dragon companion turns themselves as small as a lizard and lands on Gracie’s head instead. The fox gives a little huff but ultimately allows this. “Is that all, then?” Juliet checks with them and looks at Lucky again. If they already know this much, she’s not sure if exiting through the door and past the guard is an option. (An ambush may be waiting outside. She has arrows and Lucky on her.) She glances up at the skylights and back to Lucky in an unspoken suggestion that they fly.
 
Willow blinks. Then she turns her head, searching around the lab for a hint of Sawyer. Like the weirdo werewolf might jump up from behind one of the many stacks of boxes or papers or other miscellaneous items, effectively disappearing the illusion of her parallel twin and announcing her clever prank. But when that doesn’t happen, she stares hard at Milfred, her gaze narrowing as she then wonders if Milfred is just Sawyer in disguise. This just has to be a prank. However when her labmate’s parallel twin starts to talk, Willow understands that this is indeed Milfred of the wood, infernal eater of souls. Still dumbstruck over this, Willow can only stare, rub her eyes, and stare some more as Milfred continues on, speaking of Doritos (Cool Ranch) and their level of crunch.

‘Sawyer isn’t in trouble?’ While this is good news (if true) considering the events of last night and who has been blamed for them, she is annoyed Sawyer would worry her and drag her away from Juliet. It’s not that Willow needs or even necessarily wants to spend all of her time with Juliet, but she is not necessarily comfortable with the fact that she left her with the Charming Street kids. As much as she trusts Dorothea, there are still so many questions lingering in the air when it comes to the celebrity— Willow hates to admit it, but she does wonder how complicit Dorothea is in all of this. While there could be just cause, especially knowing she’s with the king of Charming Street himself, her suspicions of him are still only speculation. (Well, mostly. The glimpse of him she caught in Huxley’s eyes was unnerving but also could have been an illusion. In her head.)

On the outside, Griffith King and Dorothea Birdsong are a perfectly suited pair and while Willow has not kept up with their romance since high school, she remembers Griffith’s outward sweetness towards Dorothea and the grandiose ways he would proclaim his love for her. (He even asked her to prom by manipulating the clouds in the sky after school. Not only that, but he paid someone to turn the entire baseball field into one for daffodils, her favorite flower. His proposal to Dorothea even allegedly involved receiving a blessing from her divine ancestor. It had been such a shock to Evermore, considering the minimal contact between mortals and the seven in the past centuries, that even Willow had heard the supposed news.) To be perfectly honest, aside from Willow‘s first meeting with Griffith, he has been nothing but pleasant. (Frustratingly so.) Even so, she knows Griffith. She knows Dorothea. And she’s always known there would never be a way for him to make her happy. She is a bird, bound to nowhere, and he is a cage, all duties and roles—

The sorcerer squeaks in surprise when Milfred’s head disappears. Jeffrey Von Willigins doesn’t react, of course, but does hiss at Willow. (She interprets this as a, ‘Don’t worry,’ but maybe she’s just being wishful. She knows that Tiger Lily Billy only tolerates her presence in the lab and she’s not sure the parallel companion likes her anymore.) Willow summons a chair and falls back into it while she waits, avoiding looking at Milfred’s headless form directly. She sighs and worries a hole into her lip when she goes back to considering Juliet and leaving her alone. ‘Wonder what she found out.’ Then, as she looks around the lab, she thinks, ‘I hope Soy is okay.’

Milfred(’s head) returns before Willow can investigate her thoughts further, and she immediately launches into something about imminent exchanges, three rules, and their world piercing thread. The sorceress jerks back, shaking her head as she processes all of this information at once. “Woah, woah, woah— wait up. What? Exsqueeze me?”

“Exsqueeze me! What a delightful phrase.” The infernal eater of souls claps excitedly as she twirls around in her chair, once again losing herself to physics and becoming a blur. “It reminds me of lemons.”

Willow would try to refocus Milfred, but then her brain stops processing everything about exchanges and her thread— how does Milfred even know about that? Should she even ask?— and latches onto the name Sabrina. She then quickly puts together what Milfred means by “vampire weapon estate” a second later. Her blood stops in her veins like ice has frozen her over at the mere thought of her. (“Are you talking to me, fresh meat?” Her brow arched and betrayed nothing of her emotions. Willow had half believed she was going to vaporize her with those bright eyes. Then she handed Willow a glass of water. “At least try to impress me with something other than fire facts.”)

“Um.” She swallows down the thousand thoughts that always bubble up to the surface when thinking of Sabrina. This is not good news. The Stakes being involved is never good news. It’s not even because this is her ex (she guesses) or even that she’s the ex who took a wrecking ball to Willow’s fragile heart and confidence. That family, reformed hunters or not, decimated the population of non-human casters during the war. Somehow (though not surprisingly) the Stakes managed to escape persecution and consequence once a peace agreement had been reached. They even managed to keep their status and now own one of the largest properties in Elsewhere. Willow hadn’t known all this when she pursued Sabrina and became her dirty little secret. She hadn’t known until it was too late. (Willow remembers grandma Elva dropping the kitchen knife when she announced this development. “You’re seeing who?”) The Stakes might be reformed and making honest money through their monopoly on the garbage business in Elsewhere and Foreverend, but she knows they’re rotten still. (If Sabrina is any proof of that, at least.) “You’re sure that’s what you heard?”

Milfred nods, absently reaching backwards to stroke her yet to be named worm on a string. “Well,” she taps her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose it could have also been a reference to a cattle ranch. What are the big moos like here? Are any of them blue?”

*************​

Meanwhile, Lucky simply nods and grows in size to accommodate the archer and fox passengers, dipping their neck to make it easier for them to climb on. Kinsley fidgets upon seeing the enlarged dragon and takes a few steps back. Dorothea, unbothered, approaches Lucky and rubs their nose affectionately. She then looks to Juliet, a silent thanks in her eyes. “I was totally right. That jacket does look bitchin’ on you, Jules.” The woman reaches up to fix the collar. Though focused on the task, she also looks as though she wishes Juliet could stay longer or maybe it’s that there’s something she wants to tell her, but can’t. Or maybe that she’s afraid of something imminent. None of this is voiced or expressed in anything more than careful glances and gestures. Not with the eagle perched on her shoulder. (While Huxley’s eyes are no longer golden, instead a rich chocolate brown, the companion’s presence nevertheless gives the impression of watchfulness. Especially with the way his talons are sinking into Dorothea’s shoulder. She doesn't seem to notice.) “Take care of it for me, okay? And, if you can make it, the gala where I was supposed to debut this piece is in a week over in You York.”

“I still can’t believe you’re letting her debut the Pantera.”

“Kinsley thinks you look great as well.” She smiles cheekily before her tone becomes a touch more serious, bordering on worry. “Have Willow ring me when you make it back, okay?”

With that, Lucky beats their wings and then launches themself through the glass ceiling, phasing through the barrier. The dragon takes them high into the clouds, until the few cars in the parking lot are nothing more than dots. Perhaps sensing that their passengers are not accustomed to flight, the dragon keeps themself steady and forgoes the fancy flying they (as well as Willow) are known for.

As they pass through some clouds and as Lucky snaps at them, happily pretending to eat them, a blurred shadow shoots by their right side, heading in the opposite direction. Lucky turns their attention to the movement, growling as the spikes on their spine raise. The blur passes on the other side, moving ahead. Lucky misses it, again, but follows its direction as best they can. But it’s clear they don’t have eyes on this potential threat. Smoke puffs from their nose in warning.

They lift higher into the air until they’re above the clouds, milky eyes scanning below and around them. (Wordlessly, they might be counting on the archer’s eyes as well though it’s not necessarily possible for them to communicate with her.) Their spikes don’t lower and they keep their teeth bared, the only indication they can allow to inform Juliet they’re still activated and alert. That they still sense danger.

The air is still. They hover in place, keeping watch of their surroundings but nothing, aside from some birds below, moves through the air. Their spikes relax, though they keep their fangs bared, not yet convinced they’re all safe. Cautiously, they lean forward to continue home, descending back into the clouds for cover.

Just as they dip into cover, a lion’s roar surprises Lucky, coming from their flank, and the force of the soundwave knocks Lucky’s wing and throws them off balance. They tilt to the side, nearly tipping so their passengers are parallel to the earth below before they can right themself again. When Lucky looks backwards, they see a chimera with the head and body of a lioness, a second head of a ram, a snake tail, and bird wings. The six pairs of eyes on the beast all glow bright neon red like traffic lights. Similar to with Huxley, looking into any of these eyes shows a brief flash of a woman. (Where Kinsley has hair dark as a raven’s feathers, this woman’s hair is the same darkness of a depraved soul. Where Willow’s eyes are two emeralds, hers are shining rubies and seem to glow. Where Dorothea glows, she seems shrouded in shadows.) The chimera roars again, this time louder, and the sound waves knock against Lucky’s ears, dizzying them enough that they’re corkscrew spiraling down, down, down—

*************​

As this happens, Willow’s head splits into a headache and she falls from the chair to her knees, like she’s the one who has been hit by the chimera’s roar. She grabs the sides of her head, pressing her palms against her temples and perhaps hoping that will keep herself together. She forces her eyes open, wildly searching the room for the other caster. “Milfred, it’s Juliet and our companions.” She inhales sharply, her heart beat hurting her chest with urgency. “Can you track her? I-If we combine our magics, we can probably teleport them here using something akin to a summoning spell but their location—”

Willow whimpers out again. (The chimera isn’t leaving Lucky or their passengers alone.) She reaches out her hand for the other caster to grab. “Toasty toasty!”
 
Gnats. Juliet closes her eyes to ward off a spell of dizziness while the world spirals around her, itching to grab for her weapons for some notion of control but clinging onto Grace and Lucky's back instead to keep them both steady. The fox growls in her arms and whips her head around to unleash a howl that challenges the cruel vibrations the chimera sent their way. This effort succeeds in steadying the skies and knocking the creature back a few paces in their pursuit as it partially reflects the blast back at it. Her companion quickly unleashes another two howls in quick succession before the chimera can rear their head back to roar again. She strokes Lucky's back consolingly as they blink slowly, spottily regaining their focus and taking the opportunity Grace granted them to right themselves again. There's little more Juliet can do than watch and offer this meagre comfort. Even with her aim, throwing her daggers and arrows will be largely ineffective. The equivalent of wastefully tossing them over a cliff into oblivion.

Juliet glares fiercely at the woman's reflection shining in the creature's ruby red eyes. The darkness shrouding her reminds her of... hm. (It's a crafty little trick, mirroring that of the hawk on Dorothea's shoulder. Most likely, it's connected to the not-so 'Charming Street' and their precious false narrative.) To deliberately harm two companions is against Evermore laws, as Willow once explained to her. But she supposes if this woman is connected to that place, their deaths would be promptly covered up. Perhaps then blamed on another rampant werewolf attack? She bristles with the desire to fight back but has little to no means. Perhaps it was once safe in Evermore... but now? Juliet resolves to bring her weapons everywhere if she survives this attack. She shouldn't have left them behind at all. Now she's helpless. She hates helpless. Hates, hates, hates. Fire swirls in her gut with nowhere else to go, burning her up with that familiar frustration.

The tempo of her heartbeat increases as the chimera stubbornly charges towards them and they swerve sharply to avoid it, encouraging her to hold once more to keep herself and Grace from falling. Lucky is fast, wildly zig-zagging through the clouds as if to physically shake the beast. But suddenly the air shifts and the chimera appears in front of them instead. There's a flash from the snake head's red eyes, stunning the dragon, holding them still for an instant.

An instant is all the chimera needs to charge again, shoving Juliet off of Lucky's back and down into the woods below. She uses her last moment to push Grace upright, ensuring she's securely positioned on Lucky's back before she plummets down. (She wouldn't drag her down with her.) Grace looks poised to dive after her companion anyway, peering fearfully over the dragon's wing. Wind roars in her ears and her limbs flail weightlessly before she manages to curls herself inward, moving her arms to protect her head and face as she crashes through scraggily branches on the trees below. The precious Pantera jacket suffers various tears on the way down... and somehow, Juliet finds herself finding a bud of satisfaction in that amidst her fear. They will not cry any tears for her. (...Juliet can vividly recall Lavinia Laurence snottily informing her that she didn't cry at her funeral. "Very few people did. They were glad to be rid of you." Princess Elise quickly interjected, insisting this was a lie. Apparently, the event was trampled over with panic when word spread that her corpse mysteriously vanished.) Still, she hopes these people feel something over their precious fucking jacket, shredded and drenched in blood they can't wash out. She hopes it stains badly enough that it's something not even a convenient little spell can fix. Let the damage last. Let them suffer consequences. That a jacket may be the only way to get people like this to respond with any emotion outside of indifference is... quite sad, really. There are many depraved hearts in Evermore as well.

Juliet cannot envision a single person who would truly miss her outside of Grace. But she does regret that she couldn't help more people escape their fates. There are unanswered letters waiting, with red seals that will never be broken. Women in Folklore who are looking to her like their last glimmer of hope in the darkness. She supposes she regrets that she cannot break all of the curses she's cast, either. (“I will miss traveling with you if I decide to stay, you know. And learning from you.” Willow James. Their thread sparkles and sends a zing of warmth through her chest with the precision of one of her arrows. She said this the night before, with her gaze set on the very sky she's falling from now. She'll miss the travels. The lessons. Juliet herself...? No. She'll fade and become little more than a hazy memory-- as fleeting as she is fast.)

It's fitting that an unceremonious death should come for Juliet after all this time. That a story she has no part in would interfere, snatching everything away when she isn't poised to fight back. Both of the worlds are filled with things that want her dead. It's unfair. But unfair becomes tired and predictable after a while. Panic is climbing through her, all the way up from her toes, and yet Juliet can't help smiling venomously up at the chimera. She's danced with death countless times before. If it's the last thing she ever does, she wants to sear her final moments upon the conscious of this woman she's never met like a brand. For it to leave a lasting scar. She wishes to disturb. To unnerve.

This desire builds in Juliet... building until it finds an outlet through Grace. The fox howls again, loud and enraged on behalf of her companion. But this time, a tornado of fire sparks to life around the edges of the blast. The chimera screams out as the unexpected breath of flame laps over their left side, burning one of the wings and affecting their flight. Grace lets out a pained yelp as she leaps down from Lucky's back... and Juliet watches with equal parts awe and terror as two red wings split free from her back. She flies jaggedly towards her companion, enlarging and catching her on her back. Obviously not accustomed to flight, especially not with their combined weight, they crash through the trees towards the ground together. Above them, Lucky snaps out of their trance in time to come racing after the tumbling duo.

Juliet, Lucky, and Grace end up rolling to the ground in a confusing bundle of limbs as they hit the ground. Grace shrinks back down to her fox-like size as Lucky effectively shields them both with their body and wings, their scales less sensitive against the solid earth than their skin. The world continues to spin long after they've stopped, but Juliet pulls herself upright against the hammering vertigo to check on Grace. The fox whimpers, coughing up wisps of smoke as her wings crinkle, snap, and shrink down inside of her. The only evidence that they'd ever been there at all is two long, branch-like scars on her back. The archer doesn't notice the extent of her own scrapes and bruises while tending to her companion with trembling hands. She gathers her into her arms and curls her body around her while Lucky uses their own around the both of them. They growl a warning... but there's little they can do. The chimera, despite being wounded by the flames, is still approaching them them. Kicking their lion legs as if to charge again.

Juliet reaches for her dagger (she doesn't realize Millicent's reflection in the blade) and stares meaningfully at Lucky. They're all on the ground now, giving her options to work with. (Limited options, but options nonetheless.) From where they are, she can hear the soft whooshing sound of cars passing on a nearby road. While the dragon growls out a noise, perhaps asking her not to do whatever reckless thing she's about to do, the archer nods down at Grace. At the very least they share the desire to keep her safe. "...Look after her, Lucky." She grits her teeth. The companions have suffered enough. She's going to do whatever she can to protect them. They want her, no doubt, for the information she has about 'Evermore's sweetheart'... the companions don't have to suffer for it. It's needless violence. If they want their archer so badly, then they're going to have to catch her first. Rising to her feet, she offers the dragon's nose an affectionate rub. "Stay safe."

Juliet takes an arrow and stabs it into her side, sending a jolt of magic coursing through her veins. She runs through the trees in flashes, racing towards the busy roads where they're sure to have a larger audience. The chimera chases after her like a predator after their prey.

***​

"Milfred...?" Millicent briefly contemplates the new name. When Willow gives her assessment on the situation, her head disappears from her shoulders again to check on Juliet. It returns again shortly afterwards, shaking a solemn 'no' as it lowers on her shoulders again to indicate that she hasn't had any luck. "...Flapjacks! It's much too dark for me to see. I'll try again momentarily." She twirls her finger absentmindedly, though it's clear she's a touch unnerved by these developments. "You know, the rules of reflective surfaces and whatnot. And for now, Juliet's dagger remains in her pocket. Therefore unaccessible." She sighs. "Personally, I enjoy traveling by spoons. Alas, there are no spoons present... Fear not, Willow James. Before long the dagger will work. It must."

The witch strokes the worm on a string, nods decisively, and then her head disappears once more. This time the dagger is out-- her face appearing within the reflective surface-- and she manages to take in her surroundings. Once this is done Millicent returns and takes the sorceress's hand in her own. "Lots of trees. Their signals are weak, but I can still reach them. Everything in existence has a pinch of magic inside of it, if only one searches hard enough." She supplies. Her honey eyes aglow, she allows Willow to see what she's seen. She takes a sharp breath and crushes some dried flower petals in the palm of her hand, scattering them around the floor and extending threads of her magic outward. "We must act quickly, before..."

There's a shudder and the air in the lab shifts... the summoning spell is successful in bringing Lucky and Grace into the basement lab. But Juliet...

"Tsk! She moved outside my range at the last moment." Millicent complains, rubbing her temple with her free hand. Jeffery Von Willigans hisses and scurries off at the sight of Lucky. The witch kneels down next to the two companions, checking them both over. "Lucifer, are you all right?" Grace whimpers and Millicent flinches seeing the fresh scars on the fox's back. "Oh, Grace..."

"Juliet's trying to outrun it. She's moving too fast." Millicent rights herself again, steeling as she squeezes Willow's hand. "...Let's try that again. Focus on your thread this time. It's a powerful tether. It may be enough to bring her here regardless of her speed."
 
The chimera stampedes after Juliet, not taking its three pairs of eyes off of the archer as it rampages through the wood and out onto Elsewhere’s bustling highway. Cars honk and swerve out of the way to avoid hitting the creature but the chimera does not budge an inch from its course, apparently not concerned for the destruction and damage that it’s causing. (When the family it belongs to resides on Charming Street, it doesn’t have to.) It even adds to the chaos by belting out roars with the intention of throwing the red bullet off her course. However, the blasts are not precise and several cars tip over backwards from the force. Ones close enough to the chimera are thrown into the air, landing upside down or on their sides, trapping the passengers within.

Paying this no mind, it hops onto the hoods of cars, leaping to cover greater distances to catch up with Juliet. Though, at a certain point, it starts shifting between the cars to gain speed, glitching in and out of existence and gaining on the bullet. Once close enough, the chimera roars three times and these ones tear open portals directly in front of Juliet’s path. Where the portals lead exactly is a mystery as they only reflect a black matte surface, though it isn’t hard to guess that one probably doesn’t want to learn what’s on the other side of this opening. It adds a fourth opening and, from this one, the snake head jumps out, attempting to flash Juliet with its stunning eyes.

*************​

Meanwhile, Willow hugs Lucky close to her body, as tightly as she can, tears squeezing from her eyes as she does so but relief doesn’t come to her yet. Immediately, she’s already noticed that Juliet had not been captured by their combined efforts and she’s already cursing herself for not being quick enough. Lucky grumbles in a manner that suggests they tried to stop her, then settles down next to Grace— though they don’t dogpile her as they sometimes do. They seem wary of the fox, for some reason. (Willow somewhat registers the smell of fox fire and the new branch-like scars along her back, but her focus is more so on trying to figure out how to track Juliet. This is all her fault.)

“Of course. Of course she’s trying to outrun…” Willow purses her lips, then looks at Lucky. “What was chasing you?”

Lucky flicks their tongue like a snake and turns their scales black.

“Crud.” Willow chews on her already bleeding lip at the implication and grips on Milfred’s hand tighter. Sweat gathers in her palms (unfortunately— she’d apologize if this were the time) as her heart rate hikes. (Along with panic, regret and guilt both swirl together in her stomach knowing that Juliet is in this situation because of her. Because she left her. Because she insisted that Evermore is safe and that they should follow the laws. Because she’s silly little Willow James. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’) Her hand trembles as she winds their thread around it, pulses of electricity travel along it, sprouting first from Willow’s chest before they dart off. The first few pulses don’t travel too far, barely even making it out of the lab. She presses her eyes shut, focusing on their thread. Their connection. (Juliet’s rare smiles. The way she can school everything from her expression except for her blushes. How she loves food and seems to have a fondness for red things in particular. How she is so fiercely herself and never cows. She’s the most fearless person Willow knows and she wants to continue knowing her.)

Her cheeks flush as these thoughts of Juliet flood her mind, her heartbeat going from a full on stampede to dopey little skips. The lightning dancing along their thread changes too, from electric blue to soft lover-pink. ‘Juliet. Juliet…’

*************​

“Juliet.” Willow’s voice echoes over the rush of wind, honking cars, and screams, managing to sound perfectly clear to Juliet. Thrills of pink lightning jump towards Juliet, dancing along their thread and obviously coming from the basement lab. They sink through the archer’s chest, as easily as her arrows do, and send the invitation to join Willow.

Unfortunately, the chimera reacts in the middle of this summoning attempt— either coincidence or it somehow can sense what is happening— and unleashes another roar. (In the basement lab, Willow hunches over and clamps her hands (and Milfred’s) over her ears.)

*************​

“Shit!” The sorceress shudders when she loses the connection, struggling back to an upright position. “Freaking chimera got in my way.” She grumbles to herself then looks over to Milfred of the wood, squeezing her hand with a determined nod. “Gotta be faster.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “I’m going to try something slightly different.” Slightly more dangerous. “Watch my body.”

*************​

Despite its burned wing, the chimera forces itself (or is forced) to leap into the air, flapping its wings to bring itself higher and higher. Once it's several hundred yards in the air, the ram head takes the lead and somersaults forward, tucking in its wings as it becomes nothing more than a spinning disc in midair. It angles its body downward, then propels forward, picking up momentum until it’s little more than a blur. Though it follows Juliet, it doesn’t seem to be aiming for her per se. Instead, it rams itself into the ground with enough force that shockwaves rip through the earth to knock the archer down.

In that same instant an electric blue outline of Willow James appears in front of Juliet. Her curls bounce as she looks around, assessing the situation, before she reaches and offers her hand to the archer. “Take my hand?”

The chimera shakes out its body, coming up to a quick recovery. It growls and paws the earth, red eyes flashing.

Willow (the apparition) looks up, mistakenly— unthinkingly— and catches the snake’s hypnotic glare. Even as an apparition she sees her and freezes— partially because of the snake eyes and partially because it’s her. Sabrina. The one ex she actually wishes she could unmeet.

The snake head hisses, unhinges its jaw, and holds the sorceress in place. "Why am I even surprised?" A woman's voice— her voice comes from the chimera, sounding smooth like honey (but even honey can be poisonous). The chimera eyes Willow (the apparition) and Juliet, shifting from foot to foot as if unsure what it's going to do next. Though with Sabrina behind the beast, Willow isn't hopeful for reprieve. That's why it surprises her when she's released, her spirit relaxing as it's let go from the hypnotic gaze. (Willow has a hard time believing she's being let off because of her shared past with Sabrina.) "Watch your back, James." With that threat, the Stake chimera then runs past the heroines and jumps through a portal it opens with another roar.

The chimera (and Sabrina) are gone. Juliet is safe. Willow is not relieved. (Who has Willow just endangered by being identified?) She steels herself and finishes the summoning spell to bring Juliet (and her own spirit) back to the basement lab, immediately hugging onto the archer once she's reunited with her corporeal form. She presses her nose into the crook between Juliet's shoulder and neck, momentarily forgetting that the companions and Milfred are in the room with them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry— Juliet, I'm so sorry," the sorceress sniffles, not at all bothering to hold back her tears. "I shouldn't have left. Shouldn't've left you defenseless— now Grace—" She clutches the other woman tighter, clearly taking the burden of responsibility for everything that's just transpired.
 
Juliet is caught by a warm breeze carrying notes of the eucalyptus and honey scents that she's come to associate with the Rhode Island house. It wraps itself around her tightly. She blinks once, twice, as the breeze gradually shapes itself into a teary-eyed Willow James. Holding her so tightly that through the press of their chests, she can feel the way the sorceress's shudders and shakes with her cries. Willow? Uncomprehending and unsure of what exactly to do with her arms, she hangs limply in her embrace. (Apparently she left her mind in traffic, along the road and toppled cars. It's still trying to catch up with her. Clearly. That's why even breathing regularly is a challenge.) For a split second she's in bed on Cornelia street, rousing to the tight squeeze of mother's arms and teardrops on her shoulder. This is affection. (...Yes, an astute observation to be sure.) Juliet doesn't know what to do with it. Where did it come from? Where did she find it? Her breath is caught in her throat, writhing around uncomfortably like a fly trapped in a web.

The embrace is tight but soft. It's tender. So startlingly, tantalizingly gentle that it feels like it's meant for someone other than Juliet August. If she leans in towards it, surrenders caution and accustoms her heart to the warmth of such affections again, the fates will surely snatch it away from her. Tragedy has been her longest and most faithful companion. Living within the lonely fortress of her own heart hasn't always been easy-- but it's much safer than searching for shelter in someone else's heart. In time she's always thrown out, dragged elsewhere, and asked to fulfill a new role so that she might be enough elsewhere. (But she never is.) After all this time, Juliet isn't even quite sure she knows who she is anymore. Just a sorry, scrapped-together picture of a woman who has lived many different lives hoping to be worthy of love. She wanted the kind of love she heard about in stories. A great love that prevails over adversity and lasts. (But it never does.) True love is only reserved for the worthy. For the genuine heroes, the chosen ones. Not the ones who have to cheat to win an unfair fight, dirty their hands to escape imprisonment and build their reputations by cleaning the messes they themselves create.

Death continues to come for Juliet. She wonders oftentimes if it was meant to take her earlier... if that's why it wants her than anyone or anything else. Perhaps there's no story she belongs to because she isn't meant to exist at all. Beads of light zip erratically around their thread as if confused by what color they're meant to be portraying.

"It isn't your fault." Juliet says calmly. The lights dim and collapse as she finally lifts her hands and settles them on Willow's shoulders as firmly as she wishes to make her point. She doesn't doubt that she's sorry, given how many times she's repeated it. But there isn't even an ounce of the archer that blames her for what just transpired. It hadn't crossed the scope of her imagination that Willow James would ever feel the need to protect her to begin with. (Though it's not that she thinks the sorceress completely incapable of doing so-- especially after the events of the night prior.) Juliet's responsible for taking care of herself. That's the way it has always been. "You've no obligation to protect me. I should have been more mindful." She nods in a businesslike manner, the glazed look fading from her eyes. Then she considers the electric blue outline of the sorceress, offering her a hand. She came for me. "... And I should be thanking you for helping me escape. So thank you."

Juliet gently presses Willow away by the shoulders, giving herself the space she needs to check on Grace. Her hands hover around her companion for an instant, like she's afraid her touch might make everything worse, before gingerly gathering the fox into her arms. Her ears, usually upright and alert, have drooped. She gives the occasional raspy cough and wheezes, her clouded brown eyes staring blankly ahead. It's only when the archer cradles her close to her heartbeat that her breathing begins to calm. But she doesn't resurface. It seems she'll need time. Just like...

"What happened?" Millicent asks from across the room, drawing her attention. Juliet can't help staring. While it isn't rare to see the witch of the wood appearing in reflective surfaces, it is strange to see her physically standing outside of her cottage. Outside of the wood. There she stands, in the flesh, in Evermore. It isn't particularly surprising that she's capable of visiting other worlds... but the fact that she chose to is. Millicent's knowing, concerned gaze is set on Grace.

"She was worried." Juliet glances back down at Grace, the scars on her back, biting her lip. I'm sorry, Gracie. "She was just worried."

Millicent clucks her tongue, disappointed in her brief response, but doesn't push for more details. Instead she rummages through some materials on the table behind her. She reaches in the pockets of her skirt for tiny (familiar) vials. She tips drops from each into a bowl of water and then levitates it towards them. "Have her drink this when she comes to."

"...Why are you here?" Juliet asks, glancing between the two casters. So it wasn't Sawyer who sent for Willow but Millicent? Gradually, the events that transpired before her arrival (before Willow James's embrace) begin to click into place.

"It's dangerous to be a wolf in Evermore... dangerous to be a witch in Folklore." Millicent says, twisting her arms in an elaborate double criss-cross over her chest. "Our exchange is only a temporary affair. An experiment, if you will." She tilts her head. "To test travel between the worlds and help you both." She flicks her fingers towards them and Jeffery Von Willigans hisses as if to agree with her. "...From the looks of it, you both need bushels of it."

Juliet furrows her brow confusedly. "Exchange." And travel between the worlds... it calls to mind her offer to provide Dorothea refuge in Folklore. (It's relevant enough. But it seemed that Dorothea didn't seem particularly interested in the offer. Still...) Maneuvering Grace to one arm, she uses the other to reach in her back pocket for the small perfume sample paper. 'Temple of Fearless. 2am.’ She smooths it open before handing it over to Willow.

"...This is the only piece of information I could retrieve with that bird watching." Juliet explains, shifting Grace back into both of her arms. She strokes the back of her ears and back consolingly, mindful to avoid touching the scars on her back. (Wings... that was new.) She goes on to explain the means she took to get this information-- what was said in the dressing room as well as her offer to temporarily shelter Dorothea in Folklore. Then she considers the event in 'You York'. While it does seem that there is plenty to preoccupy oneself with in Evermore, her place is in Folklore. "She asked me to take care of the jacket... but it seems that my 'chaotic lifestyle' has already torn it to shreds." ...Immediately after leaving at that. There's a metaphor for her life to be found in all of this.

"...Princess Elise has been confined to her tower." Millicent speaks up, drawing her attention away from events in Evermore. Juliet's chest tightens. (She suspected this. But still. Just hearing it...) "The queen has announced a tournament for eligible princes across the kingdoms to compete for her hand, claiming that the princess longs for a match she feels will 'protect' her... hence her announcement regarding he who shall not be spoken of." The witch rolls her eyes. Fighting over her, like a trophy to be won in other words. Juliet grits her teeth. "And the king of Okeanos... it would seem that he transformed upon realizing that Prince Zander made his miraculous recovery. The sea kingdoms are restless and wondering where you two heroines have disappeared to. Conspiracies have run rampant since." Millicent swishes her hand to imitate a wave after a moment. "Or swam rampant?"

"I will accompany you to meet Dorothea tonight, if that is what you wish to do." Juliet turns to Willow, thoughtful as she considers everything that has transpired since their arrival... and everything that happened since they left Folklore. (The king's transformation isn't all too much of a shock.) "...While I would gladly lend my help with matters here, I must return to Folklore." Then she thinks of her attacker, the way they appeared to know Willow. While they told her to watch out and didn't seem inclined to hurt her... "You knew my attacker. Are you going to be all right if you stay here?"
 
“Of course,” Willow mutters, her big green eyes looking like river rocks. She sniffles and wipes her nose as Juliet goes to check on Grace and Lucky soon comes to take the archer’s place, draping their long neck over her shoulder and wrapping their wings around her. She presses her nose into the dragon and lets out a few more sniffles then pulls herself back together. Once she’s calmed down, the dragon shrinks and perches on Willow’s shoulder. (They keep a watchful eye on Jeffery Von Willigans, lip curled to keep the possum-cat at bay.)

Willow takes the small piece of paper from Juliet and immediately recognizes the handwriting. The question on her face is soon answered when Juliet supplies what happened after she departed. It’s only when the archer finishes by bringing her attention to the jacket, that Willow really takes in the rest of Juliet’s make over, stumbling backwards a few steps. ‘Dragon smoke. Wow.’ Her heart shivers in her chest, causing their thread to jiggle and match the same awkward rhythm of her heart. For a full minute she stares and while it could be passed off as her just absorbing every detail related to Dorothea’s (limited) intel, Milfred’s brow waggle suggests that she sees straight (gay) through the sorceress. Her mouth becomes dry as the deserts of Nowhere as flashes of heat pulse through her. ‘Wowza.’

Lucky flicks Willow subtly with their tail to help her snap out of her gay fantasies. It works… sort of. The new look is very distracting. ‘She’s so cool.’ She clears her throat and plays catch-up with the conversation. “The jacket… nice.” Brilliant words from the not so brilliant sorceress. “Um… It’s Pantera, right?” She doesn’t need Juliet to confirm this, Kinsley only name dropped the designer a zillion and one times. “Nice. It looks. Is how it looks. It looks nice.” She can feel the intensity of the brow waggles increasing from Milfred’s direction. Willow pinches her features together in a, ‘Stop embarrassing me!’ manner. The waggles become twice as obvious. ‘I swear to gods…’

She tries to ignore this in favor of taking in the news of Folklore. That becomes easy with the fire that pours over her when she hears the news of princess Elise and how her choice is being stripped from her. She twists the end of her shirt, recalling her desires to help the princess and how she can’t do that from Evermore. Not if she also wants to help Dorothea. And now she might need to watch out for her loved ones with Sabrina’s threat still lingering in the shell of her ear. Her heart is between two worlds and she’s only one (very small) Willow James. ‘Should I stay or should I go?’

King Cederick’s transformation is hardly news to Willow as she could have predicted that without seer gifts. (At least that is one less liar and cheat in power.) Of course, this probably means that Juliet will be tasked with bringing him back and who knows if he will even be changed, like she hopes Zander is changed, or if he will toss blame at casters and other scapegoats (like Juliet). Again, she has to wonder, ‘Should I stay or should I go now?’

Willow still has no answer to that question as the situation in their realms becomes increasingly complex the more that is revealed. (She doesn’t want Dorothea to be transforming because of a love affliction, but it becomes more likely when she considers why the council might not have been willing to take her seriously. The old stiffs were so frustrating, but maybe they knew something already and refused to budge because the Head of Council’s son could be implicated. All the more reason she needs to stay.) The sorceress blinks a few times and chews on her lip. “I’d like very much if you accompanied me, Juliet.” In part, because she feels safer around her (braver around her, too) and partly because this could very well be their last sleuthing mission together. At least for the time being.

At the mention of Sabrina, Willow pulls her mouth to the side, brow furrowing together. “Sabrina. I do know her.” She sighs, remembering the hell she put her through. (“Do you actually think anyone’s going to like you?”) “She’s a sigh and a story for another time. We should prep for tonight.” She turns to Milfred who is now experimenting with various versions of brow waggles. (Currently, she’s making her eyebrows wiggle like caterpillars.) “Would you like to come over for dinner, Milfred? My family would love to have you.”

“I am not be had, Willikers. I am a stringbean in comparison to the other delicacies that Evermore is sure to offer.”

“That’s not what I… never mind…”

Milfred nods resolutely, arms crossed over her chest in a triumphant and assured manner. “In any case, my twin and I have some important-important experiments to run if we are to aid the heroines on their quest!” As she says that, her shadow grows twice as large behind her, leaving the impression of something ominous but Willow chooses to not question this. Ultimately, she does trust the wonder twins, weird and wild as they may be. In fact, she trusts and adores them because of those characteristics. (They are so fiercely themselves and Willow has always admired those types. ‘They make it look so easy.’ And she knows it’s hard.)

Willow grabs a few materials from the lab before departing— some half finished keychains she had been working on, mainly— and writes a quick note to Carmilla, explaining her absence. (She’s not sure if Carmilla will be understanding or not, but she hopes her reputation affords her some flexibility on submitting her next draft.) Just before they leave the basement lab, Willow wraps the other caster in another one of her signature Willow James hugs. Lucky even joins in and nuzzles against Milfred as if to say a long goodbye in case this is a long goodbye.

As they make their way back to the Rhode Island home, Willow catches Juliet up on the specifics of the exchanges Milfred had referenced— explaining to her the three rules. They then muse over possible parallels based on observations and think about where these physical and metaphorical parallel locations could be. (Both of them conveniently skip over Lavinia and Kinsley, either not wanting to give those women the time of day or maybe even assuming they’re far enough from the drama that it shouldn’t matter.) In the context of Juliet’s dressing room offer, they mainly focus on Dorothea and princess Elise. Juliet points out that Elise has never left the castle and so Willow begins thinking of which home Dorothea might consider her homebase.

“Since we may be apart when Dorothea needs to hide, I should teach you how to use IMM— instant message magic.” She bites her lip, remembering how toasty toasty Juliet’s casting abilities apparently are and how the networks between Folklore and Evermore are already prone to fire starts. “Or maybe we can rely on Milfred and Sawyer to ferret information between us?” She drums her fingers against the steering wheel, trying to think of other ways they might be able to communicate if (when) these exchanges might need to happen. “Milfred did mention mirrors… maybe I could…” The sorceress trails off and soon they’re pulling up to the long dirt driveway up to the Rhode Island home.

They find her grandmas in the backyard, tending to a small patch of flowers, both of them smeared in dirt. (She guesses they had a dirt fight earlier.) They inform her that Meredith called while she was out and won’t be able to make it tonight, something about her shoot running longer than she had initially anticipated. While disappointed, she takes the news in stride, happy that Meredith is even behind the camera again after her long hiatus due to a creative block.

Grandma Juniper also asks about Dorothea and Willow solemnly explains that she had not appeared well last night and while she seemed in better spirits at the mall, something about her candor felt off. Then, remembering the story her grandmas had heard of the attack at the fair, she slyly mentions the events of last night— leaving out the details that herself and Juliet are the ones who stormed in to help (while the rest of Charming Street ran). They blink, eyes glazing over, then smile. “You’re mistaken, Willow.” Grandma Elva insists. “The attack was clearly by a werewolf. Probably a freshly turned one. I hope the poor dear is okay. The media really should not stir up such anxiety around werewolves. They’re sorely misunderstood.”

Willow nods along and does not push back on her grandmas’ belief. The way their eyes glazed over tells her that pushing it will be futile and could turn ugly. As soon as herself and Juliet are in the kitchen, she re-ups the protection spells on their minds. (If she had the time, she’d teach Juliet how to resist sifting techniques and other attacks against the mind altogether.) “Belief and mind manipulation,” she explains. “I don’t know how the caster or casters managed to reach so far, but I’ve a feeling it’s only going to get toasty toastier from here.”

She pulls out some ingredients to prep dinner, still determined to cook at least one meal for Juliet in case this is their last meal together. When the archer asks if she can help, Willow instructs her to prep the vegetables while she dresses the chicken. (She nixes the initial hot chicken idea, wanting to save that for Meredith, and decides on a simple and flavorful roast.) She flips on the kitchen radio, finds the station that is more likely to play Queen, and, with voices lowered and masked by the music, they begin discussing the game plan for the late night rendezvous. Though Willow wants to believe that Dorothea would not lead them into a trap, she doesn’t entirely rule it out and Juliet seems to agree that they should be prepared for anything. With that in mind, they agree that until they know what exactly they are stepping into, they ought to remain hidden. More importantly, they need to make sure no one and nothing sees them enter the temple. Willow volunteers some ideas to help them sneak around unnoticed and it’s agreed she’ll handle that part of their mission. The hope, of course, is that this overabundance of caution will be for naught and that Dorothea is still true. (The temple does seem to be a good indicator that she is, as holy grounds are protected from malevolent magics and even a foreboding watcher like Huxley (Griffith) would have no power there. The Temple of Fearless is especially sacred and supposed to have the most protections for those seeking their true voices.)

The dinner passes in a blur of laughs and stories— most embarrass Willow (like when Leif brings up the time she cried at the school bake sale because she didn’t know how to read decimals and thought everything was priced between fifty and two hundred dollars). It’s warm. It’s comforting. It’s home. It makes thinking of leaving impossible, but she doesn’t say anything just yet. Instead, she waits until dinner (and dessert) is over. Both herself and Juliet excuse themselves to turn in early, given they’ll have a busy day tomorrow trying to locate that gateway. At least, that’s what they tell everyone. (Guilt is most definitely sowing in Willow’s stomach even telling that half-truth.)

Once in her room, Willow prepares them for the evening by practicing her enchantments. Though she knows that she should probably take a power nap, she’s buzzing with too much energy to rest easy. So she stays up, eventually confesses to Juliet that she thinks she might stay, and continues to mess with her magic— creating mini-twisters in her palm, flashing bright lights from her staff, and stretching out her mirrors. When it’s time for them to leave, they sneak out Willow’s bedroom window (like she used to with Meredith), sliding down her staff and walking to the edge of Rhode Island Lane before she teleports them to the temple. (She daringly forgoes the Presto Path, knowing that the company tracks data on where users teleport to and fro. It’s late enough, too, that she doesn’t expect to accidentally collide with another caster.)

They land a few blocks from the temple in a park with thick growing trees to keep them covered. There, Willow warps her mirrorball so that a mirror dome encapsulates them, camouflaging them from view. She assures Juliet that her arrows will be able to pass through the barrier without needing to drop the cloak. If they’re crafty, they can even disguise their position if Willow uses the remaining mirror panels as portals for Juliet to shoot her arrows through.

They sneak to the temple without even the moon to witness them, remaining silent. Only crickets and owls fill the air. While she knows their intentions are true, she isn’t sure if the temple’s magic will undo her enchantments so they decide to wait outside, hiding in bushes as added protection. (One can never be too careful.)

It’s still some time away from 2 AM (Willow arrives early to everything), so while they keep watch for Dorothea (who might show up early anyway) or anything suspicious, the sorceress decides to share about the Fearless god. If only to keep her mind occupied with something.

“She was human once, you know,” she starts, her voice low and hushed. “She’s the only of the seven to ascend from being a mortal. It even surprised the gods that a mortal could ascend, especially since she had not caught their eye at their birth— usually, that’s when heroes are marked.” Willow always used to wonder if any god threw their favor towards her at her birth. She thought that maybe the storm god had, but her father told her to stop reading so many books and reminded her that Jameses are not special. “But Fearless defied expectation.

“She started as a knight for her temple, serving the god of her village. She was dutiful and loyal. Never fussed or complained and never stood out. She was content with being a fixture. Obedience might as well have been her name back then. However, when a tyrant god stormed her village and took over the temple, demanding that all the old god’s servants bend their knee to him, something stirred in her heart— a fire she had never known ignited in her veins until it became so overwhelming, so impossible to ignore, that decided to challenge the tyrant god.

“She raised her sword and cried, ‘Hear me, god of oafs and fools, leave this village or I will put you on your knees.’ The resonance of her words sent a ripple through the cosmos and, suddenly, all the gods’ eyes were on this small village, watching.

“The tyrant god did not even sweat. He cackled and tore the sky open with lightning, striking all around Fearless but never striking her directly. ‘Girl, know your place is best served on your knees. Swear your service to me or I shall promise an unfair death to all who are close to your heart.’

“Sweat gathered in her palms and beaded over her brow as she considered this, as she realized what she was doing and the death wish she was making for others. Doubt crept in. Her sword began to lower as the tyrant god’s lips stretched into a smirk. Then, she heard a whisper and it sent a shiver down her spine and pumps of electricity to her heart. ‘Trust your heart. Serve your god once more.’ Her eyes sparked. She raised her sword. She charged and her stomps sent shockwaves through the earth.

“It is said the battle lasted seven days and seven nights. Each time she’d falter another god would whisper in her ear to emboldened her; when her arms would shake, there would be a god to hold them up and guide them. But though the gods were watching and were blessing each of Fearless’s steps and strikes, they can only do so much from afar and none were willing to directly challenge one of their own. Fearless was still mortal and on the seventh day, she fell. The pantheon sighed a collective, ‘Oh, well. Wasn’t that fun?’ and left Fearless to her fate.

“The tyrant god stood over her, victorious and flung her into the village walls, pinning her by her hands over the gates as a warning. She was meant to die there and to be left as an example. The village was quiet that evening as they mourned. Some brave few came to visit her, but most bowed their heads and hurried past as they walked, fearful of what the tyrant god might do.

“As her body hung over the village gate, all the strength gone from her, her old god disguised as a woman came to her. She stared at Fearless for a while. Fearless stared back. Eventually the woman asked her why she thought she could defeat a god and Fearless simply said, ‘I will be defined by what I love, not what I am afraid of. Especially not when my god of Love needed me. Are you going to call me foolish now?’

“Except, when Fearless looked up? The woman was gone already. By the time the sun came up, Fearless should have been dead. But instead her body was missing from the gate. The ivy that clung to the village walls reported a woman helped her escape just before daylight and that they were seen fleeing towards the mountains.

“It would still be many years before Fearless would come back to her village and defeat the tyrant god or even ascend, but that first act is what started her legend.” Willow pulls out her sword as she finishes. “I named my sword in her honor.”
 
Juliet appreciates every bite of their dinner. She takes her time, savoring the flavor of the chicken as she chews because she knows all the while it will be her last home cooked meal before she's traveling the wood in Folklore again. (It's good.) She acknowledges that she's been quite spoiled recently, between the food the sorceress shared during their travels and all the delicacies she's tried since arriving in Evermore. Donuts, funnel cakes, potato sticks, clouds on sticks, chicken on sticks, puff-pretzels... she'll miss the food. Now she needs to brace herself for the reality awaiting her-- which mostly consists of fish and game roasted over the campfire, foraged berries and mushrooms. She can procure her own food, of course, but it's not quite the same. (It is not as though she carries a whole kit of spices and extra ingredients with her.) Prepping the vegetables and spending time in the kitchen together... that had been nice, too. The process of contributing and then eating the meal together with Willow's family is warm in a way she can't quite describe. So she appreciates every second of the dinner as well. She'll miss this, too. The archer offers to help with the cleaning after they're finished and the grandmas shoo her out, insisting that they would clean up since they cooked.

Through the lively dinner conversation, she could see Willow's choice before she admits to thinking of staying. It's something she doesn't even need to say. It's in those affectionate green eyes of hers, crinkling when she smiles and sparkling as she laughs at her family's jokes. She's staying. The idea that she would leave with Juliet is absurd, really, because her heart is here. The embrace before... Willow James is a kind person is all. Selfless and compassionate. Juliet understands that she cannot compete with her family, her friends, the people she's already loved once. Still loves, to some extent. Come daylight, the archer will be leaving on her own. Just her and Gracie. That's how it is, how it's always been, so she'll be fine. No one lasts. Anyone else is a temporary visitor in her life. After planning a decent amount with Willow, she begins turning over the events of the day in her head in their idle time-- from the photo capturing Sefarina's picture to everything that followed after the shopping trip. The spying eyes, the figures (cowards) hiding behind them. (It has been a lot. She knows she should rest before her departure, while she still has the chance.) When Willow preoccupies herself with spells, she decides to curl up with Grace on her makeshift bed of blankets. (Still recovering, still restless. Every soft wheeze and whimper that escapes her companion's throat as she sleeps saws through her.) She doesn't sleep-- she finds she can't bring herself to-- and ends up staring blankly at the wall instead as she cradles the fox against her chest. It makes her feel small, like a lost child in the wood again. Gracie.

Juliet thought she'd been doing well recently. But Grace is breathing fire again. Not only that, those wings that burst from her back... her heart pounds as she replays the scene, over and over. It cannot be safe for her to endure these changes. Perhaps there is a faraway village she can venture to, one with an expert on companions. Someplace she can seek answers without eavesdroppers, with prying eyes and scathing quills. ("You travel all across Folklore curing others. But perhaps you should really be seeking a cure for yourself?" Millicent had suggested once. Juliet interpreted this as a teasing remark. But lately... no. She's in too deep.) It's all the changes in her life recently. Traveling with someone new, visiting an entirely different world from their own. When things go back to the way they were, Gracie will settle again and everything will be fine.

Eventually, the warmth of Grace mingled with the golden sunlight streaming in through the window helps Juliet drift off. When she wakes again, she feels quite well-rested... but she's surprised to find that her slumber had only lasted about twenty minutes. (Reminders of Sefarina... they've always accompanied the nightmares. It's the sort of strange that sits with her that she'd been able to sleep dreamlessly, if only for a short while.) Willow James has been casting protections on her mind. She's curious if that has something to do with it.

Belief and mind manipulation. They'd been an endless torment, the nightmares. Unusual, abstract, hellish. Whenever Juliet went to see Sefarina, despite all of her instincts screaming at her not to, the nightmares would disappear and offer her peace. Young and foolish, she was sick and believed Sefarina was the cure. (Even after everything she'd done. She'd been a fool.) Manipulation. She rolls the word around in her mind until righteous fury burns a hole through the center of her chest.

Juliet is tired of being manipulated. Having her every move anticipated and controlled by others like she's a puppet on their strings. It seems she must challenge the people in her life as well as the fates themselves... every thread that's ever been connected to her must snap if she's going to move freely through this world. She does not agree with the royals or their stance on witches. However, there is some magic she believes their worlds would be better without. (It is not as though royals or witches are specifically to blame, either. There are good royals, just as there are good witches. The alternative is true as well. The King of Okeanos himself employed most sinister magics to enact his schemes. Sought help from the witches he slanders to escape unscathed while murdering his own brother before an audience of horrified onlookers. In front of Queen Adelaide... surely knowing full well what it would do to her to see the man she loved and lost cut down.) Some people have too much power, too much magic at their disposal.

Evermore seems to suffer from this just as much as Folklore when she considers the clouded look in Willow's grandmothers eyes. How is it that they managed to manipulate so many minds? It's enough to make Juliet question whether or not anything is truly real anymore.

If anything, it vindicates Juliet in using her arrows to give those with too much power a taste of the powerlessness she has felt her whole life. Challenge them to think from the perspective of their victims, so that they might be better men (and women, in some few cases) going forward. Grace shivers in her arms and Juliet sighs out, cooling the flames of her resolve for her sake. Companions themselves are built from desire... she wonders if her own are becoming too much for poor Grace to hold onto.

***​

Juliet is far more confident venturing towards the temple than she was the mall that morning. While she'd been alert and sensed the potential of an ambush earlier, she truly hadn't known the full extent of the danger the people of Evermore would pose. Now that she's seen some of what they're capable of, she can adjust. She's carrying her dagger, her bow and arrows (as well as Scaramouch, of course) and is therefore better prepared to fight at her best. The archer had gone to great efforts to think of her plan, to ensure Dorothea was the only one to see her message. There's a version of Dorothea that Juliet sees herself reflected in-- one that she truly wants to help. However, she doesn't trust it completely yet. Especially after speaking with Willow's family and pondering the topic of belief and mind manipulation.

A sinister version of Dorothea exists as a possibility as well. One who doesn't care at all for the werewolves who had taken the blame in her stead. The innocent sweetheart who benefits from those who manipulate minds behind the scenes... if she's aware of what is happening, then she is just as much to blame as the ones who do the dirty work. (Just like King Cedrick, using witches and their magic to excuse his atrocious behavior.) She may very well be setting them up tonight. Juliet had exposed that she and Willow know something is wrong with her by asking her questions. (In turn, Dorothea revealed how much she knew of their involvement while speaking to Kinsley. It had come across like a warning, but...) Juliet cannot deny the possibility that Dorothea might want their memories erased as well. The part of her who wants to believe the kind things Willow had to say about her the other night, the part that relates to her so deeply... it could all be the result of masterful manipulation. The perceived warnings, too, could have been part of convincing them to let her guard down. So she steels herself and prepares for the possibility that they're being led into a trap. No one is going to take me for a fool again.

Juliet was relieved when Willow casted their defenses and mentioned wanting to be cautious. She had confessed to loving Dorothea the other night... if their relationship has all been a result of an elaborate rouse, she will be devastated for her. But she is glad that the sorceress is also considering every conceivable outcome. She is not quite as naive as she thought when they first met. And that's why it's probably for the best that their partnership ends sooner rather than later. She does not want Willow James to come any closer to her. To potentially feel betrayed when she discovers the full extent of her methods.

Thankfully, these thoughts are easily set aside while Willow tells the temple's story. Juliet stays alert throughout, peering through the darkness with her bow readied in hand... but is listening closely nonetheless as the sorceress breathes life into the tale, going as far as to describe even the sweat on the knight's brow. (It reminds her of...) The archer is not a great storyteller herself. But she has always been fond of them. Willow's visuals paint pictures in her mind, breathing life into the story. The plight, the determination, the drive that won her the favor of the disguised god. A tale of a female knight such as this would have truly enchanted her as a girl. (...Maybe it still does, a bit.) She supposes she and Willow James must have this in common as she confesses to naming her sword for the ascended mortal.

"That's..." Juliet lapses into silence before she can give the extent of her thoughts. The temperature drops quite suddenly, much like it had in the underwater halls of the Okeanos kingdom. She squints through the darkness, adjusting her bow in her hand and angling it across their line of sight. A row of figures in hoods streams through beyond the bushes they've sought shelter behind. The archer holds her shot, unsure of whether or not to shoot yet. Patience. The cold air breathes chills and dread over her skin, but they ought to wait and see what exactly they're here for first. (...Is this Dorothea's doing? Does she want them to simply witness this? Or, perhaps, have they stumbled upon someone else's meeting?) Her questioning gaze briefly flickers to Willow, lowering her voice to the quietest whisper-- so much so that she might as well be mouthing the word to avoid drawing any undue attention. "Worshipers?"
 
Willow shakes her head and places her hand on Juliet’s forearm, though she doesn’t push down to force the archer to lower her weapon. The gesture is only meant to signal patience, but she feels the unease in the air as well and the whites of her knuckles around her sword indicate as much. These are not worshippers. Not of Fearless, at least. With the hoods over their faces, she cannot make out who is hiding beneath them, whether it’s people she’d recognize or strangers entirely.

Just like Juliet, she wonders if Dorothea knew of this meeting and wanted them there as witness or if she chose this time and location unknowing of this other meeting. Yet it’s 2 AM and Dorothea is not here, leading Willow to believe it might be the former. Her old friend is rarely late. Her old friend never plays games, either. If she is communicating through veiled stories, suggestions, and hints, there is a reason. Willow is certain of that. ‘What is it that you want us to know, D?’

The sorceress counts the figures clad in dark hooded overcoats. Five. That’s not so— three more stream in from thin air, wearing the same non-distinguishing uniform as the rest. Okay, eight. They’ve faced worse odds before (like a pack of Lightless and a stone hydra), should they need to do more than witness. The figures whisper among themselves and while she can’t hear what they’re saying, they seem to be scratching their heads and shrugging over something. Their confusion is short lived as an additional five figures shift into existence, seeming to address the concerns. More than that, these additional figures come with a plain-looking palanquin. Whatever they are carrying is hidden under a black box. (This brings her back to sneaking around the palace in Okeanos where they discovered those guards carrying Zander.) ‘Toasty… toasty…’

She squeezes Juliet’s arm then drops her hand to her staff, gaze fixed on the group of thirteen figures. They converse, share greetings, and then file into the temple in two rows with their leader at the front. As they breeze past the bush the heroines are hiding behind, Willow catches a pin on the lapel of their coats— a silver anatomical heart with black veins and a ruby sword stabbing through it. It’s not a symbol she is familiar with, but she commits it to memory so that she can ask Sawyer or her grandmas about it later. (Though, given the glazed over look in their eyes, she worries about their reliability, unsure of how far that spell has reached. Has it only affected their perception of the event at the fair or does it go deeper? With that in mind, she also wonders whether or not this group might be the ones behind the state-wide charm.)

When the last of the group have entered the temple, Willow motions for them to follow, carefully sliding between the bush and wall so as to not even rustle the leaves, worried of anything that might give them away. Though still invisible under her protective mirror barrier, the sorceress is still unsure whether or not the spell will hold once they cross the threshold. Just peering in through the entrance, she can see that the hoods have all been blown off the figures’ heads (with their backs still turned, she still can’t make them out) and while that could have to do with their intentions, Willow still bites her lip as she looks down at the threshold.

Deciding to play it safe, she motions for them to slide into the temple while their backs are turned and points to the pillars inside. She raises three fingers as a countdown and once she gets to zero, they sneak inside like shadows. In spite of Willow’s fears, her enchantment holds and they remain invisible. Still, being as risk averse as she is, she does press her back against one of the columns, clutching her staff closely to her chest. Lucky shrinks themself down to lizard-size and skitters up the column to take watch.

The temple itself is rather simple having been constructed entirely of granite. There is a noticeable walkway that divides the temple, but only because it has been smoothed over with thousands of years of worshippers passing through to light their candles. Even so, the giant lion crested seal on the middle of the floor still looks as fresh as the day it was first painted.

Columns line the circular chamber with an eternally lit torch posted against each one, providing only dim light at this hour. At the far end of the temple is a tall statue of the god herself. A circular stained glass window with blends of pinks and oranges is set behind the statue’s head and would provide a halo-effect if it were sunny or the moon full. Fearless wears her signature armor, holding her legendary greatsword between her fists with the tip pointing down. Her eyes stare eternally forward.

A short set of stairs leads up to the god’s statue and at the top of the steps, just before the feet, is a long candle rack and a kneeling pad below it. Being that hardly anyone practices the religion of the seven anymore, only three candles are lit.

It’s colder within the temple too. Or it’s getting colder as spiders of ice start stretching their legs across the floor, up the pillars, and even gather at the feet of the statue. Willow peers around her hiding spot, heart shaking in her chest as she watches one figure, the leader, stand facing the statue with their arms clasped behind their back, one hand gripping a curved dagger. He’s broad shouldered and his short, neatly cropped waves of chocolate hair are slicked back. An anchor weighs in her stomach, recognizing him and not wanting to.

Her attention falls to the palanquin bearers instead who set the palanquin down in front of the steps, at the edge of Fearless’s seal. A soft, dull thud jolts through the air, the only sound to fill the temple. One of the bearers taps the box, disappearing the panels to reveal…

Willow almost audibly gasps, eyes widening as she recognizes the unmistakable white deer. The companion’s front and back legs are bound together with rope and a heavy silver chain weighs down her neck, but she looks subdued regardless, her eyes lazily open, breathing obviously shallow. Unlike the last time they saw her, she only has her two sets of antlers and her body shows no sign that other sets had ever sprouted over her. This would be good if the implications of what is about to happen to her weren’t so sinister.

Her heart and throat both burn. Lucky quickly scampers down to Willow and pleads with her to let them do something. She holds them close to her chest in response. ‘Not yet.’ Her eyes glide over to Juliet, full of worry and determination both. If this is what Dorothea wants them to find, then she must have also known neither would let it happen either. Even so, she still believes it’s too soon to act just yet. The sorceress needs to know what they’re doing and why here, on holy ground.

Their leader finally turns around, his golden eyes gleaming in the dark like two suns. His chiseled features appear sharper under the flickers of firelight and the measured way he moves makes him seem almost like a marble statue sculpted by an artisan. (Even Willow cannot deny that, for a man, he is handsome.) His only (physical) flaw is the small, curved scar that acts as a lopsided dimple when he smiles— and, right now, he is. His distracting smile almost makes one forget the companion bound for slaughter before him. The smiling knife in his hand is the sole reminder of what he is (likely) about to do.

“Tonight, my fellow devoted, will bring us closer to justice for our fallen god, wrongfully exiled and forsaken by his kin.” Griffith raises both of his arms, flipping his empty palm towards the cosmos. Two of the figures step to the palanquin, each grabbing onto the antlers to lift Jovi’s head, keeping her neck exposed. “May the blood of a divine’s companion break the first of the seven seals.” He nods to another of the figures.

She steps forward, carrying a large tome under her arm, and ascends the steps to stand behind Griffith. With a definitive click of her heels, she turns, void black hair whipping around with flourish as she does. Willow jerks back against the pillar, bonks her head, and looks fully at Juliet with a look of plain dread and fear mixed on her features. “Sabrina,” she mouths, then adds, “Griffith.”

Sabrina pulls the tome from under her arm. It floats in front of her, automatically flipping through to the page she needs. Her red eyes glow the second she opens her mouth, reciting a… hymn? A prayer? The language is foreign to Willow, but parts sound similar to some of the Elvish dialects she knows (similarly, Juliet might notice bits of the mer language). Whatever Sabrina is speaking, it is clearly reverent as the other 'devoted' begin to rhythmically stomp their feet. Griffith, meanwhile, remains in place and watches as two of the five remaining devoted work together to trace a complex rune over the seal. (From what Willow can tell, Jovi’s blood will fill it and activate the spell.) The final remaining figures stand opposite to Griffith and, with their hands over their chests, chorus an eerie melody. It vibrates through Willow's chest, cooking bile in her throat. Jovi thrashes weakly.

Willow swallows hard. She's seen enough. She tugs on Juliet’s sleeve and points to the window behind the god’s statue. Then she flits her eyes between her arrow and the window, suggesting a distraction.
 
Juliet holds every shot she wishes to release into that group of hooded snollygosters as Willow holds Lucky to her chest as if to say 'not yet'. Gritting her teeth, her fingers flutter impatiently over her arrows. She tries to repurpose her anger elsewhere, slowing her breathing and methodically observing the scene unfolding before them. Every angle, every stance. Mapping out different actions, reactions, and outcomes, before they come to pass. Lara taught her that when concealed like this, she must take advantage. The distance and shadows benefit her, as an archer. She must be several steps ahead of her opponents. Where she once lacked skill seeing ahead in mind games, she always excelled doing so in a physical fight. When she feels she's fully assessed their environment, the placement of pillars to use for cover and items to use as makeshift weapons should she be disarmed, she moves onto their opponents. (Those who she will delight in attacking for putting Jovi through such distress.) For trying to... trying to... (A memory claws at her and she fights it back.) The man-- Griffith-- has a smile that matches the curvature of the knife in his hand. (The memory makes another attempt and she banishes it.) His figure indicates one who knows his way around a fight. However, there's not even the slightest indication that he notices their presence... and they can use this to their advantage. None of them do, not even with the slightest inclines of any of their hooded heads. Willow has explained that malevolent magics can be used on temple grounds, so the concept that they're being watched by something other than their eyes is out. This makes their first shot in particular very important. From then on, those gathered will be aware of their appearance.

Juliet takes a moment defining what her first target ought to be. She wavers her aim between Griffith and the tome in Sabrina's hands. Which one will effectively ensure Jovi's safety? Given she couldn't understand the language of the chanting in full, she isn't entirely sure. Sabrina clearly hasn't memorized her lines, given the presence of the tome, and eliminating it could break the ritual's proceedings and spare the companion. And Griffith? Griffith has the knife and is the closest to Jovi. If the ritual must be completed by his hand, as their perceived leader, eliminating him may be just as effective. (However... if it doesn't matter, it's highly probable that another of the hooded figures will step forward and kill the companion anyway.) She isn't sure if the man is waiting until the end for a purpose or strictly to be theatrical, if he could cut Jovi at any time and complete it. Whatever the case, they cannot wait until the end of the ritual to make their move. If they wait to see what happens, it will already be too late. Sweat gathers in her palms as the pressure mounts. Jovi's life is on the line. The wood raised you. Remember your strengths, your training.

The archer tilts her head to the side, considering her shot and... wait. From this angle-- her brown eyes widen at the opportunity. She should have thought of it sooner. Because her targets are standing close enough together, are they not? Griffith in front, Sabrina directly behind. So if she aims her one shot just right...! She bites her ruby red lip, concentratedly turning a flower-shaped dial on the end of her bow. It gleams faintly as the nocking point waves and shifts to support two arrows instead of one.

The archer, like the dragon, is antsy now that she has a plan and quite prepared to attack at any moment. She does understand Willow's reasoning, why it's so crucial that they obtain information. But the discomfort in her chest rises with each second of inaction that passes, sweeping over her like a wave with the progress they've made with their chanting and rune-drawing. They need to stop this before they make any further uninterrupted progress on their ritual and take it much too far.

She keeps her chin high and her aim steady. There's a tightness to her breathing and her gaze, pupils dilated, as her eyes flicker from the chained companion to the two figures standing over her. In Jovi's place, she can see Grace there. Helpless and constrained. Grace who has been similarly tortured. The fox is currently resting in Willow James's room... and she's glad for it. She's suffering enough as it is... she can only imagine the distress this would cause her to witness. (The woman behind the tome is responsible for what she endured today. The woman whose red eyes she's avoiding, because they remind her so much of... another memory claws forward and she beats it back.) Willow taps her arm. Juliet's eyes are trained on the hooded group, not moving away for even a second to consider the window as her companion is suggesting.

Minutely, Juliet shakes her head 'no'. "...Sneak attack." She mouthes. She will not use her first shot on the window. They're effectively hidden, thanks to Dorothea's tip and their cautious entrance. The arrogant goblins are already distracted enough by their creepy ritual, completely unaware. Alerting them to their presence without truly hindering their progress will allow them time to readjust and defend themselves. The archer would rather them scatter and panic with good reason. Strike fear in their unprepared hearts.

Most of all, Juliet intends to take full advantage of the position Dorothea has given them by making her first shot count. To give her warning power when she's no doubt feeling powerless. They spent their entire day on that shopping trip, maneuvering carefully under that hawk's golden gaze and seeking privacy just for her to obtain this one small hint... therefore the first shot will be Dorothea's as much as it is her own. Juliet is not going to squander it by giving their hard-earned covertness away.

Juliet nocks two arrows and tilts her bow, the top at the tome and the bottom at Griffith. She adjusts her grip, pulls back, holds her breath and then releases.

Griffith falls to the floor with a satisfying 'thump' as the net trap springs on him from the left, tangling him up. (...Yes, that shot was specifically for Dorothea's sake. Poetic justice. Let's see how he likes being tied down.) She hopes he hit his head. Hard. Only a split second afterwards, the tome in Sabrina's hands is pierced and shot to the right side of the temple, effectively pinning it to the wall. After a moment the book explodes into flames that spark erratically. A few latch onto one of the nearby goons and they prance around in a panicked circle as their clothes catch fire, breaking the rhythm of the song they're singing entirely. "Fuck-- fuck-- I'm on fire!" His friend tries to wave the fire out by uselessly flapping the end of his overcoat... and naturally the flow of air to the flames only makes it worse. "What the fuck!" The eerie melody is effectively silenced at this point, replaced with confused shouts and the crackling of flames. Griffith barks orders at the figures at his sides to help him... they anxiously release Jovi's antlers in order to do so, opening up the space around the companion.

Juliet smirks but doesn't relish in her satisfaction yet. It's not over. They've prolonged the ritual, which means only the first step is complete. They still need to free Jovi. She takes Willow by the arm and races forward, quickly guiding her along the path of pillars she'd carefully traced out before. Sabrina reacts the fastest of anyone in the group, brandishing a gun and sweeping her arms as they move across the temple, shooting glowing bullets at them. They clearly have some magic effects. The walls and pillars take the brunt of most of the shots as Juliet quickly maneuvers them around to safety, dodging them. Some explode with fire ants while others are encased in a thin sheet of ice. Whenever she finds openings, Juliet shoots a few more of her netted arrows to entrap those less inclined to fight or dodge, just to keep them out of their way. Any fool can do irreparable damage with a knife. None of them should be left unattended.

Before long, Griffith and his two 'devoted' will cut him free of the net. They need to make their way over there... "Any weaknesses you're aware of?" Juliet keeps her voice low as she pulls Willow into cover in the shadows behind the statue, closer now to Jovi and Griffith. "Lucky and I can hold Sabrina off... and keep an eye on Griffith. The ropes will not hold him forever, but they will afford us with some time to act." A shame. Though it will take quite some effort on their part to sever them, even with blades in hand. They've been created to constrain beasts from the wood five times his size. While Juliet could have eliminated him altogether by shooting to kill, she refrained. Mainly because she will be returning to Folklore in the morning and as the one who stays behind, Willow might face harsher consequences for their actions tonight if the damage is brutal enough. And when it comes to human beings, she is not a murderer. (...She uses other means to incite karma.) "...Do you think you can you free Jovi?"
 
Willow’s cheeks ignite into a fierce red when Juliet mouths, ‘Sneak attack,’ realizing that her plan— mild distraction— would have been like using a baseball bat to get rid of a wasps’ nest. Heat pits in her stomach, fist clenching at her sides. ‘Now is not the time to be green, WJ.’ Not when Dorothea’s called on them. Not when Jovi’s life is on the line. Not when the Fearless god could be in danger, along with the rest of the seven. Not when she’s finally been vindicated in her belief that Griffith King, the golden boy, is rotten to his very core. This is the hero big leagues and sometimes? Sometimes even heroes need to strike first. A fair playing field only applies to opponents who play by the rules and the Charming Street kids write and rewrite the rules in accordance to their whims. Juliet and Willow need to use every advantage that they have been given and Willow needs to remember this. Willow needs to do better. For Dorothea, her family, Juliet, and all the rest. She needs to be better if she truly is to live out her claim that she is Willow James, champion of love.

The sorceress clutches her staff and nods, stepping back to let Juliet take the lead. Arrows fly through the air. Her mirror illusion falls, having broken the rules of the temple, and Willow snaps her fingers before the mirror pieces can clatter to the ground, ordering them back to her keychain.

Griffith falls next. Then bullets fly through the air from Sabrina’s gun. Chaos and shouting ensues as the devoted scramble. Willow counts the shots. Eight. Once their backs are pressed against the statue of Fearless, hidden by the cover of shadows, the sorceress takes a moment to catch her breath before she answers. “She fired eight rounds. The magazine has nineteen rounds, then she’ll need to reload.” That is, if Sabrina is using the same glock Willow once discovered in the glovebox of her car. (That should have been a red flag in and of itself, but Sabrina brushed it off as her father’s paranoia and insistence. The excuse fell from her lips so easily, Willow never guessed it was a lie. She forgot that liars and cheats usually practice and hone their craft.) “Well, nineteen or twenty-one is my best guess.” She bites her lip, apologetic that she doesn’t have more information. “Not sure if she’ll be able to use magic to reload, but I imagine not given her intentions. She might have a second gun though. If it looks like Sawyer’s gun, it’ll only have six or eight rounds. If it looks like the one she’s currently brandishing, same number of rounds I mentioned before. And knives. She probably has knives.” She gifted one to Willow once, but also told her to watch her back in the same breath.

As for weaknesses? Willow closes her eyes, racking her brain for every memory she has of watching Sabrina and Griffith compete in unsanctioned magic duels after school. While they probably can’t use their primary skills, there’s no point in taking risks. Not with everything on the line. “Avoid Sabrina’s eyes. In fact…” Willow snaps her fingers, bringing her mirrorball into her hands. She taps a panel, peeling it off like a sticker, and draws a transformation glyph over it, magicking it into a pair of mirror shades. “These ought to dissuade her from using anything involving her sight.” It’d help against Griffith’s abilities, too, if only Willow could remember his skillset. (That’s a hint by itself, but Willow can’t even piece that together.)

“I… I don’t remember much of Griffith’s skills. We didn’t spend much time together.” That is true, but Willow should at least be able to remember how he tore the ligaments in his right knee three times in middle school. She should remember his family sword that he used to brag about at parties. She should remember details about his honey voice and golden eyes, but all this escapes the sorceress. The only warning she can manage to scrape together is, “Avoid close quarters with him.”

Willow then sends another piece of her mirrorball around the statue, her green eyes shifting to reflect mirror surfaces as she scopes out the rest of the temple. The panel returns to her and her eyes return to their usual green. “Sabrina is opposite to our position right now. The goons are still sawing at the net, but one of them has a lighter. I can get Jovi.” This is all she can manage before the situation will evolve past her intel. She looks to Lucky, worry in her eyes. They nod, seeming to understand, and shift up a few sizes, changing their scales to reflect a painted starry night as disguise. While it's likely that Willow's cover is already blown— if not for Lucky's two recent appearances in Charming Street affairs, then because Sabrina literally made her out when she astral projected herself to get Juliet— it's not as though she's going for an award for the number of times she can anger them. She's not trying to endanger more people around her. She has to be careful.

Lucky is first to fly out past the hiding spot, grabbing Sabrina’s attention before anything else can. Two shots are fired. Willow summons a bandana from her bag, duplicates it with a copy glyph, and hands one to Juliet and ties the other around her face. She also throws up her hood and rushes out from behind the statue, making her way to Jovi.

Thanks to Juliet’s earlier efforts, the devoted who are not helping Griffith have all been trapped under nets themselves or are still wrestling against the flames from Juliet’s second shot. Willow only glances over their faces for a second, just to confirm whether or not others look familiar to her, but none do. It makes her wonder if this group is more than just Charming Street and, if so, how people like Sabrina and Griffith got involved. (More worryingly, why? Aren't their lives already good at the top? Or, perhaps, is this exiled god the reason for their fortune?) She has several questions bouncing off the inside of her skull, but now is not the time.

Jovi’s tired eyes look over at Willow, but she doesn’t react. Maybe it’s the chain around her neck or maybe it’s that her spirit’s broken already. Either way, new rage filters through the sorceress as she collapses to her knees and inspects the bindings. She reaches for the chain first and electricity reactively jumps at her, sending a shock through her finger. (Anyone else would have been blasted backwards, because anyone else isn’t a stormchild.) She shakes out the digit, inhaling sharply. ‘Magicked.’ She should have guessed this from the start, but eagerness took hold and made her sloppy. 'C'mon, WJ.' She calms herself and takes a closer look.

The chain itself seems to be made of pure silver and, from up close, she can see it burning against Jovi’s skin. (That she isn’t howling out breaks something in Willow, knowing how full her personality used to be.) The sorceress scratches her head like fingering through a drawer full of files in her mind, trying to recall what Sawyer told her of silver. (“It’s a pure metal so it is used to get rid of impure things.”) But Jovi isn’t an impure thing. She is a companion and has been a loyal one at that. (“The moon charges the metal. It’s why it’s so effective against werewolves on the full moon. Such a shame, though. I feel like silver is more my color and now I have to settle for the cheap cheap. Like chicks. We should get chicken nuggets today.”)

Willow looks up and glances at the stained glass window behind the statue’s head, coming to understand why tonight and why silver. It’s a moonless night. Meaning, it’s very likely silver will have an opposite effect and invite… She gulps. Jovi huffs out weakly, like she’s calling for someone. (Dorothea?) Knowing the chain is hexed, knowing the implication of the metal used, the sorceress is hesitant to cycle through charms for fear of what effect it could have on herself or Jovi. But she has to act quickly. She has to be quick.

Shots are firing all around her. She can feel the heat of flames. She can hear Griffith wrestling out of the net, now that it’s been severed.

“Get them!”

Startling as this is, Willow trusts her companions to watch over her as she thinks of a way to circumvent the hex. The gears spin in her head, fast enough to steam and yet they are not fast enough. As she stares into her pensive reflection captured by the chains, an idea finally forms. Once more, she peels off a mirror panel from her keychain, stretches it to the size of a pocket mirror and layers two glyphs on top of each other over it— one for protection and one to repel.

Griffith has his sights locked on Willow, pulling a gleaming sword from thin air. She locks eyes with him, stills the quiver in her voice, and gives her spell direction by whispering, “Griffith King.” The glyphs against her mirror brighten, shining against Jovi's chains. The chains start to spark. Willow closes her eyes, bracing herself.

Bolts of electricity jump from Jovi’s chains to Willow’s mirror to Griffith, striking his chest and sending him hurtling backwards into the statue with a crack. (The statue remains intact, strong. Fearless.) The chains around Jovi’s neck break then fly off of her, wrapping themselves around Griffith instead. "You bitch," he hisses, struggling against the bindings and burning himself in the process, just as the chains had burned Jovi.

Willow doesn't even allow herself a moment to smirk in her triumph. Jovi is still bound and not free or safe just yet. She unsheathes her sword and slashes through the rope around the companion’s ankles. Though despite being free, the companion struggles to rise on her own. Willow tries to brace herself against her, but she's still not strong enough to be of much help and shakes from strain more than she lifts.

This is where Sabrina takes the opportunity to change targets.
 
Last edited:
Juliet and Sabrina are quiet, laser focused on each other as they move in zigzags and fire shots across the temple at each other. The archer nimbly rolls and dives behind pillars, occasionally peeking out to send arrows towards her adversary— primarily when the need arises to keep her distracted— and the other woman returns these attacks with gunfire. Counting bullets, Juliet is mindful to use her arrows more sparingly as Lucky helps with diverting the other woman's attention away from Willow and Jovi. (Every arrow must serve a purpose. Those she uses to distract Sabrina are also used to shoot sleeping lily arrows at some of the goons.) She focuses primarily on dodging, waiting for an opportunity she can make the most of.

Realizing she’ll have to slow the archer down if she wants to have any chance of hitting her, Sabrina starts aiming ice bullets at the floor to create slippery patches. Juliet snorts at this and can tell from the twitch in the woman’s set jaw that it irritates her when she jumps over them with relative ease. (The weather in the wood changes rapidly, with winter storms that can be as formidable as any opponent. These small patches of ice are nothing. She'll have to do better than that.) Sabrina fires more shots, all in rapid succession, to create an even longer patch of ice. Spikes shoot up at the end of this trail. Adjusting to this development, Lucky swoops down and offers their wing to Juliet, allowing her to temporarily step on it and glide over the obstacles. (They're moving seamlessly together, finding a sort of solidarity in the toasty toasty encounter with the woman’s chimera earlier.) Sabrina is wasting her shots and the archer counts the bullets she squanders on these tricks, ensuring that she has more arrows in her quiver than the other woman has bullets. Three, two…

Now. Juliet anticipates the moment that Sabrina’s hand shifts from the trigger to the inside of her coat thanks to Willow’s warning, presumably to reach for another magazine of bullets or one of her knives. Juliet clenches her teeth, adjusting her aim and releasing the sleeping lily arrow she’d been saving for this moment. While the effect will not be immediate, in time it’s going to eliminate Sabrina entirely as a threat as the evening progresses. Unlike the nets, she will have no such chance of freeing herself and entering the fight again. No chances of chasing them down. Juliet will likely be in Folklore again by the time she wakes.

Sabrina’s calm and collected shell shows a few cracks when she jerks with the realization that she’s been hit. The arrow dissolves against her chest, leaving no wound behind, and she looks herself up and down confusedly at this development. She frowns, wholly aware of what just happened, and proceeds to shake it off. She steels herself and pulls a second gun. If the woman has questions about the arrow she doesn’t give her hand away by asking them— rather ignoring this development and proceeding to fight like she did before.

Their back and forth ensues. Sabrina fights even more determinedly than before, nearly grazing Juliet's arm a few times... but then her aim begins to slip and her movements slow down. Her bright red eyes are fogging up. She blinks hard, struggling to keep them open. This affords the archer with a chance to glimpse Willow's progress with Jovi.

...Griffith has freed himself from his nets, he's approaching her. Juliet snaps her aim towards him, lightning fast. Before she releases her nocked arrow, however, something unexpected happens. Sparks dance across the chains and there’s a flash of light as the chains whip themselves off of Jovi and secure Griffith to the statue. How did Willow...?

Juliet’s unable to school her expression, brown eyes wide with awe. Woah. How did she...? Griffith has the audacity to call Willow a bitch and Juliet's grip tightens over her bow. (...Hm. How would he like an arrow through the face?) Her peripheries are sharp as ever through this and she notices Sabrina shifting target. The woman's aim is wobbly, though, slowing her down considerably.

Sabrina’s biggest mistake is thinking she could get away with taking her eyes off of Juliet August for even a second. With the consensus that Willow needs their help, Juliet nods urgently to Lucky. The dragon swoops down and offers their wing for her to step on just like before— which she does— before they thrust it upwards. She dismounts into the air like their wing is a spring as the dragon pitches her across the temple, allowing her to effectively tackle Sabrina to the floor before she can squeeze the trigger. The impact sends them both crashing to the floor, rolling in a brief fight for dominance before Juliet pins her down. (Her opponent is sluggish, now, her reflexes slowing down.) The archer's mirror shades slip off in the kerfuffle and she reflexively punches Sabrina square in the face before she can make eye contact with her. (…Anything to avoid those eyes.) "Shit!" When the other woman squirms to try and shake a steady Juliet off, it becomes evident as the glow in the woman’s red eyes dims even further that the effects of the arrow earlier are truly taking their toll. Sabrina slurs something unintelligible under her breath before going slack and slipping into unconsciousness.

Juliet rolls her fists, stretches her neck from side to side, and brings herself to stand once she’s sure Sabrina is out cold. The archer takes the woman's gun, examines it, and then slips it into her own pocket. Aside from the crackling of the flames and Griffith's anguished curses, the atmosphere in the temple is much calmer now. (Especially since Jovi has been untied and is no longer at immediate risk of being slain. Thank goodness they were able to save her. Thank goodness.) A few of the goons writhe in their nets... but thanks to the distribution of the sleep arrows, their efforts to free themselves are slowing. While Juliet is incredibly tempted to knock Griffith out the old fashioned way, with a solid whack to the head (and perhaps a punch to his annoyingly handsome face for good measure) she remembers Willow's advice about avoiding close quarters with him. So she settles for firing a glare and a sleeping lily arrow at him. Just because they're leaving the temple doesn't mean these snollygosters won't give chase as soon as they're able. After the incident with the chimera, Juliet intends to take any precautions she can leaving this place.

They need to hide Jovi. Considering Jeffery Von Willigans's presence in Evermore, they know now that it's possible to shelter her in Folklore. However, they'll need to find Princess Elise and persuade her to switch places in order to accomplish this. Or, rather, Juliet will have to find Princess Elise. After tonight, there isn't a doubt in Juliet's mind that Willow intends to stay. While she is admittedly nervous to leave her here, her life and responsibilities are tethered to Folklore. While no one may need Juliet August specifically, they do depend on her cause. Her rebellion, her arrows that set them free and punish the heartless.

"...Nice one." Juliet commends Willow's performance with sparks in her eyes. She doesn't quite manage a smile, however, as her attention shifts to the state Jovi is in. She clicks her tongue, equal parts sympathetic and infuriated with those who put her in such a state. In Jovi's tired, disoriented eyes she sees Gracie all over again. Enduring the sort of trauma an innocent companion should never have to endure. A fire ignites in her heart, the desire to punch Griffith in his face-- to do more than just break his nose-- and she quickly snuffs it out. (Grace might suffer the consequences of her rage. Besides, the best revenge lies in their successful escape. Another day lived. Not impulsive mistakes that may jeopardize the victory they've nearly secured.) With the combined efforts of Willow, Juliet and Lucky they're able to safely rescue Jovi from the temple. It's not until they put distance between themselves and the temple that they stop.

"As much as I would like to reunite Dorothea with her companion tonight... I presume doing so will only endanger her again." Juliet mentions somberly, gently stroking the companion's side to console her as she often does with Grace. While she's still tired, it's notable that she's more relieved than she is distressed now. Dorothea trusted them with this. Trusted them with her companion when she couldn't be there herself. "We need to hide her someplace safe." She furrows her brow as she considers it. "When I return to Folklore, I'll see if I can persuade Princess Elise to come to Evermore. They'll have no chance of finding her in Folklore."

Juliet considers something else, then. "Griffith and Sabrina will sleep until late tomorrow afternoon." She bites her lower lip. Which means it eliminates them as potential threats for the remainder of the night. It may open a window of opportunity for them. Alongside that, this may be her last opportunity to help Willow and Dorothea in Evermore before she returns to Folklore. (Of course, she will do what she can from her side as well.) "...Should we find Dorothea and offer her a place to hide as well? If they realize her involvement in this, she may be in danger." More so than before, anyway. "Or is it too risky for the time being?"
 
Willow is shaking, wide eyed as she stares at Griffith’s writhing, helpless figure against the statue of the god he tried to disrespect. Her skin ripples with goose flesh. She tries to tamp it down by rubbing her arms, but the knowledge of what she's just done cannot be rubbed away. She isn’t sure whether she’s swelling with boundless pride or fear. Maybe both? While she doesn’t think Griffith recognizes her beneath her bandana and hood, he’ll connect the dots. It’s only a matter of time. She won’t naïvely hope for oblivious ignorance when it comes to the eagle eyed King. Besides, if not Griffith, then perhaps Sabrina. Her attention may have been occupied by Juliet and Lucky, but even with Lucky’s disguise… a dragon is a dragon and how many dragons are there in Elsewhere? Evermore? She won’t even hope that she’s bought herself more than a few extra hours of pretending she’s innocent. (She is innocent, of course. Her hands have committed no crimes, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Charming Street were to spin a false narrative. Sometimes she wonders why the god of reputation is on their side.) Once she sees Juliet off, she’ll need to work on her protection charms and talismans.

The sorceress blinks a few times, realizing that she’s not even within the temple anymore. Yet the image of Griffith, his eyes like molten gold searing into her, is burned into her mind and it’s so easy for her body to believe she’s still back there. But they made it out. Thanks to Juliet and Lucky. ‘Right, we left.’ They left and Willow threw up her mirror charm again to protect them from prying eyes. (The trees along these city streets… Who knows who they might report to. Who knows who might be able to unravel their memories from their fallen leaves. Better safe than sorry. Especially without the moon to watch over them.)

A slight grin pulls at Willow’s lips, looking over to Juliet and glancing at her fist. “You punched Sabrina’s face. Do you think you broke her nose?” If Juliet hears an eagerness in Willow’s tone, it’s not imagined. Maybe the sorceress is awful for hoping her ex’s vanity is damaged, but she tried to ruin Willow’s image before so it’s only the long arm of karma coming back for her. “I think you’re only the second person to land a hit on her.” Not that Willow knows much about Sabrina’s fighting record. Honestly, Willow hadn’t even known that Sabrina is a sharpshooter or fighter type herself; though this fresh knowledge isn’t necessarily surprising. It’s just not the version of herself that she showed to Willow when they were fooling around. (And Willow had been the real fool in the end.) “Meredith sucker punched her once.” This is how she knows it’s not easy to land a hit on Sabrina. Meredith tried twice to pointblank hit her in the face and Sabrina caught her fist both times. Meredith landed the third punch only because she feigned defeat. (Except Meredith ultimately ended up punching her boob, not her face.) “You and Meredith would get along, I think. I’m bummed you didn’t get to meet her tonight.” ‘But you will,’ she wants to add and bites it off. While she is convinced that this is not their last mission together or even last time seeing each other, she doesn’t want to call more attention to their eventual departure. She’s going to miss Juliet. A lot. She can feel the ache budding in her chest already and the archer isn’t even gone.

Then her cheeks blush fiercely remembering Juliet’s earlier praise before they left the temple. ‘Nice one.’ She closes her eyes, immortalizing the exact tone and inflection of her praise. ‘Nice one.’ While she’s probably just put a huge target on her back, it felt good to use her power like that. Not because she finally turned the tables against Griffith, finally worked the nerve to do more than some petty school investigation on the football team (although that certainly lingers among the mix of feelings), but because she did something good with her power. At least, she thinks what she did back there was just.

(“When are you ever going to do some good with that magic of yours?” ‘Now,’ Willow thinks to herself, fighting against the disapproving voice in her head that’s always sounded like her father’s.)

Willow reaches to her shoulder, rubbing Lucky’s nose affectionately as she sets her other hand on Jovi’s shoulder. She nods in agreement to Juliet’s assessment. Jovi won’t be safe with Dorothea and Dorothea likely knows this herself. It would surprise Willow if she expected to see her companion returned safely to her tonight. She looks up at Jovi’s beady eyes. They still look blank, shocked. Similar to Grace’s when she was pulled back to the lab. It occurs to her to ask more about what happened with the chimera, but there’s too much else to focus on and too little time. “No, I don’t think Jovi or Dorothea will be safe in Evermore. But Dorothea knew the risk of sending help for her companion.” Jovi’s gaze shifts lethargically to the heroines, dipping her chin just slightly as if to confirm this suspicion. “I’d guess she’s worked up a plan herself.” Dorothea… It’s never occurred to Willow to think of her as crafty, but she supposes, in retrospect, that she is. All those hidden meetings and rendezvous; always making sure they wouldn’t get caught... Willow thought it was shame or embarrassment, but maybe…

“I still wonder if she’ll go. If leaving today was an option on the table and she sent us here instead…” The sorceress rocks her head from side to side, getting the thinking juices flowing as she does. “Who knows. Who knows with her.” She blows a raspberry, frustrated. Dorothea has always been the mystery of mysteries. (Though, in many other ways, she’s always been transparent, too. It's an odd line she walks and she does it so well. Willow wonders how she hasn’t already been crushed under the pressure.) “As for finding her tonight and asking, I’m not sure.” She doesn’t even know where Dorothea is staying— it could be at her mother’s. It could be at the Prescots or even Kinsley’s place, depending on where the ice queen is staying. It could be at the home her and Griffith own together. It probably is that place and Willow doesn’t want to chance going there. She turns to Jovi. “What do you think?”

The companion doesn’t respond, at least not in any way that Willow can understand. Lucky stares at Jovi hard then looks at Willow and shakes their head. ‘No.’ “Jovi does need to be hidden. If her blood is necessary for that creepy effing ritual, Griffith won’t stop until he’s found her.” The only problem is finding a place not even he would dare to go.

As if reading Willow's mind, Jovi abruptly stops walking, staring straight ahead at the air before them. Though her gaze is so fixed that Willow swears she must be seeing something. She tilts her head to the side, then the companion scrapes the ground as if to charge and then she—

She bolts.

“Jovi!” Willow whispers out her cry, but the companion is off ahead of them. While Lucky has the best chance at catching her, they stay on her shoulder. It seems they have good reason, too, as the deer lowers her antlers then jerks them up, ripping a portal through the air. She scrapes to a halt just before it. Jovi pants and looks back at the invisible spot where the heroines and Lucky remain hidden. She gestures to the portal. Willow looks to Juliet and shrugs, slowly following the path the deer left until they’re beside her again.

It’s a lake. Mirror Lake. Through the opening Willow can make that much out, though it’s not easy because the lake is surrounded by the mist. The portal Jovi has ripped open will have them stepping into a cleared patch, but will still leave them surrounded and the mist can move fast. It can even grab people, Willow’s heard. She takes a few startled steps back, as if the mist itself will jump through the portal and grab her. (And it very well could.) Jovi blinks slowly as if that explains everything. It doesn't, but Willow has her guesses why the companion would pick Mirror Lake, currently protected by the mist. It is a place Griffith wouldn’t dare to venture. As a companion, Jovi likely won’t be affected by the mist’s powers as it’s never been heard of that a companion alone can be misted. If a companion is misted, it’s usually because their counterpart has already been misted themself or they were misted together. (Just like Meredith’s dad and his companion.)

Jovi gestures for them to step through and Willow shakes her head, not even considering it. Jovi insists. Lucky flicks their tail against both heroines’ shoulders, gently nudging them forward. She gives her companion a questioning look and they simply nod assurance in response. Willow links her arm with Juliet. “Stay exactly in that clear patch,” she points, “Folklore won’t have a heroine if you get misted in Evermore.” She’d explain more (she’d do an entire lecture, complete with a slide presentation), but there isn’t the time. (And Juliet will be gone soon. She doesn’t need to be schooled on the mist of Evermore when there is enough already in Folklore to be watchful of.)

They step through the portal, finally, with Jovi being the last to follow and it immediately closes behind her once she’s through. Being a companion, she steps right into the mist, but not far enough in that Willow and Juliet are unable to see her. Though her white coat does somewhat blend in. They stand surrounded by mist on three sides and the lake on the last.

Jovi turns to face the lake and lets out a low, weak three note bleat. Then again. And again. Like she’s calling for something. Someone? Lucky shifts on her shoulder and trills lowly, joining the call. Willow, while confused, doesn’t interrupt the companions but does shuffle closer to Juliet. There’s a ripple in the air that passes over the lake. Lucky squeezes onto Willow’s shoulder and that’s the only warning she has before something feathered and winged flies above them and sweeps them into the lake with their tail; at which point, watery arms and hands wrap around the heroines (and Lucky, though the dragon remains eerily calm) and drag them down, down, down—
—towards a hidden gateway.​
 
The impact is harsh as they're swallowed with light and hit solid ground, as if having fallen down from the sky. It's a moonless night and therefore dark on the other side. (Juliet has destroyed enough gateways now to understand what this means. They've returned to Folklore.) Though the archer has long ago trained her eyes to see in the darkness, training can only do so much on a night such as this. She can hardly see anything at all upon their landing. Juliet recognizes dewey blades of grass poking her... and the smell. Hints of vanilla and pine. She actively forces her way through the vertigo threatening to hold her down, hauling herself back up onto her feet as she struggles to pinpoint their exact location. (They're off somewhere in the wood, clearly. Not back in Okeanos, or in the sea-- which she is thankful for, as Willow James's water-breathing enchantments would have long since faded. Even with the merblood flowing in her veins, she would have similarly been in trouble without her magicked scales. They've not been dropped into a field of poisonous flowers or carnivorous plants either... nor a monster's den. All things to be thankful for. But Juliet isn't going to let her guard down just yet, a tingle sparking at the back of her neck. They're at an unknown point of the wood in the middle of the night. Who knows who or what could come after them? It's dangerous.) The sky is dark and the silhouette of the trees standing tall around them are even darker. Everything has a bluish hue. The trees shift and vibrate around her... they swirl... and a sharp pain juts through her skull.

Juliet's face flushes and sweat beads at her brow as she presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, waiting the sensation out. In time it does fade minutely. (Perhaps she forced herself to stand too quickly.) The archer checks on Willow next, offering a hand to help her to her feet. "...Are you all right? It would seem we've returned to Folklore." She knows full well that sorceress wanted to stay on her own side. But the gateway they had entered through is nowhere to be seen, as if it had simply vanished and closed behind them. Meaning they cannot travel back through it. (There's little they can do about this now. There's nothing they can do about this until they find another gateway.) While there are plenty of things to concern themselves with-- the events transpiring in Evermore, Jovi, and Grace-- they need to focus on finding a safe place to set up camp. "Perhaps in the morning we can--"

Sensing motion nearby, Juliet snaps her chin up, alert.

"Bok, bok!" A panicked chicken runs towards them in zigzags. Their snow-white feathers with blue tips glow in the night as they flap their wings and wobble clumsily on their spindly chicken feet. It unceremoniously crashes into Juliet's leg. The archer frowns and cautiously picks the chicken up. She frowns, holding it at a slight distance from herself as she stares it in the eye. It doesn't meet her gaze. It's really quite funny-looking, with eyes that stare off in two different directions.

"...Dinner." Juliet names it matter-of-factly, tilting her head to the side. She cannot help herself from thinking back to the chicken on a stick.

"Bok." The strange chicken responds. Despite the worrying implications of their newly christened name, they seem to calm down at the sound of Juliet's voice.

"Lulu, wait! Come back!" Juliet blinks, tearing her eyes away from Dinner as she follows the sound of a young girl's voice. A short distance away, she notes the glow of a frantically swinging lantern. Eventually this girl catches up to them, collapsing to her knees and breathing heavily. Up close in the light of her lantern, it's apparent that this elven girl is tiny. She cannot be more than five years of age, with her rounded fingers and cheeks. She has sharp ears, dark skin and her white, curly hair is tied in twin braids. Two starry symbols are drawn on her cheeks beneath her big blue eyes. "Lulu." Juliet sighs softly under her breath, somewhat disappointed at this development, but she surrenders Dinner (Lulu) to the girl without a fight. Oh well. Some dreams die too soon. (She quickly sets this aside to examine the implications. This means they're near one of the elven villages, does it not?)

"Thank goodness." The girl hugs the chicken in one arm and then tightly hugs Juliet's leg with the other, squishing her cheek against her thigh as she sighs dramatically. "Thank you. I love you." Then she releases her, holding the chicken up to give it a stern talking to. "Lulu! Are you trying to get me in trouble with mama?"

Juliet swallows. Her throat is dry and her face flushed again. (...It's the headache.)

"...You two are dressed real funny." The girl proceeds to make a blunt, childlike assessment of them as she raises her lantern from the ground and shines it towards them. Her eyes linger on their bare legs. "What are you doing out here?" Her astonished eyes widen. "Were you... kissing?"

"We're lost." Juliet supplies, blushing deeper. (Again, it's the headache. But thank goodness it's so dark out.) While she knows the wood well, she must admit this much. Folklore is vast, especially the wood, so even Juliet August with her expansive knowledge hasn't seen all of what it has to offer. "We've come from somewhere faraway."

"Oh. Okay." The girl nods understandingly. "Usually the plants are brighter here. It's really dark tonight since it's a moonless night... the plants out here only glow in the moonlight." She nods, proud of herself for being able to recite this information. Then she pauses for a moment, a soft wind picking up her braids as she closes her eyes. The elven girl wears a thoughtful expression and lifts a finger, as if examining the feel of it. "We're standing between the kingdom of Arcadia and my village, Celestine." She points north to indicate Arcadia and south to indicate the village. Then, taking notice of Lucky, she offers a wide gap-toothed smile and wave. "...My village is closer. Do you want to come home with me?" Juliet immediately finds herself worrying for the child, her naive openness to invite strangers from the wood to her home. While she knows neither she or Willow James would cause her harm...

"Jericho!" A young woman's voice calls out worriedly. Juliet's eyes follow the sound and, similar to before, she notices a lantern shining in the darkness. The elven woman who approaches looks quite similar to the girl, with dark skin, blue eyes, and flowing white hair that nearly ends below her kneecaps. She has more intricate symbols beneath her own eyes and a sleeve of white tattoos on her left arm. A black bear wearing a crown of blue flowers strides slowly at her side. A white, glowing rabbit with blue tips at the ends of their ears rides upon the bear's back. The woman scoops both the girl and chicken duo into her arms upon closing the distance between them. "You know it isn't safe to venture out on a night like this." She scolds. Unlike the girl, she takes a cautious step back when she takes full notice of Juliet and Willow.

"I was going to tell the chickens a bedtime story... and Lulu got out." Jericho explains herself, biting her trembling lower lip. It seems she can truly use those wide eyes of her to her advantage, because the woman looking down at her softens immediately at the sight.

"Lulu..." The woman points a glare with thinly veiled disdain at the strange chicken. ("Bok.") Because of this animosity, it does not seem as though this is the first time such an incident has occurred. She doesn't let any of this show while dealing with Jericho, however. "It would be a great shame to lose our beloved Lulu. But an even greater shame to lose you, my child." Then she lifts her gaze, staring directly at Juliet and Willow. "Who..." She studies their clothes, as if to assess who they are and where they come from, and is clearly lost at the sight of their Evermore attire. Then she moves on to examining their features. "Hm. Red hair..." She tilts her head as she moves from Juliet to Willow. "And you..." Her eyes light up with surprise. "You're the missing heroines. Are you not?"

Immediately, the woman and the black bear exchange a glance. Some unspoken message passes between them.

"Yes." Juliet answers honestly. She sees no cause to lie when the woman has already put the pieces together for herself.

"I see. My name is Esmeray. This is Calli and my companion, Momo." Esmeray gestures to the bear as Calli, the rabbit as Momo. (Juliet's gaze lingers on the bear after learning her name. They are near Arcadia, so...) The woman then nuzzles her nose affectionately against the crown of the little girl's head. "And this is Jeri--"

"Echo! Just Echo." Jericho (Echo) insists. Then she glances at Juliet and Willow, wide-eyed again. "You're really the heroines?"

"Yes." Juliet echoes her earlier answer. (No pun intended.) "I'm Juliet August." She tips her head towards Willow. "And this is Willow James."

"...Juliet, Willow. We can offer you shelter tonight in our village for as long as you need in exchange for a favor." Esmeray says, running a hand gently over Calli's back. Juliet watches this carefully, beginning to sense that she already knows what this favor might be. Hm.

"Lightless?" Juliet asks, raising a brow. (She already knows it isn't, quickly putting the pieces together.)

"No. Something else." Esmeray shakes her head, visibly deflating.

"I'll try. But I cannot promise results." Juliet offers upfront. (If Calli is Callisto, the cursed princess of Arcadia...) She glances at Willow. The sorceress may not want to spend any time here and instead find a gateway to travel through in the morning... which is why she doesn't say 'we'. She will not agree to it on Willow's behalf unless that's what she wants.

"That is enough for us." Esmeray nods understandingly, as if she had expected this answer. "It's late, so we can discuss it further in the morning. Come with us and stay close."
 
"Oof.” That same noise escapes her mouth again when her dragon lands on top of her a half second later and continues in small bursts with Lucky scrambling off of her to shake out their scales, flapping their wings to dry themself off. The excess water sprays over her and the sorceress simply remains flat on the ground with her face pressed to the wet grass for a few extra seconds, letting the pain from her landing dissipate. She deflates into the earth with a sigh before finally pressing her palms to the ground to push up, then reaches for Juliet’s hand to pull herself up fully. She stumbles over to the right, then left, as the world settles around her. The smell of vanilla and pine hits her next, too sweet and lulling to be something from the dry Evermore woods that would smell like dirt and hint at a fire this time of year.

‘Folklore.’ She doesn’t need Juliet to make this announcement, but the confirmation settles something in her stomach. Fear that builds into trepidation. Disappointment that morphs and joins hands with relief. It’s a lot for her to untangle, especially with the night she’s already had, so she sets aside the unnerving fact that they were forced back to the other side for a later investigation. She’s in Folklore again and that just has to be okay. She just has to be okay with that.

When the little girl appears from the wood, following after the chicken, Willow immediately recognizes her as a fellow elf and chews on her lip, debating how to best reveal her own blood. (She also debates whether or not she even should. Elves can be particular, to say the least.) Though she doesn't think there is much to worry about, given the kid's too-friendly nature. Which she also finds concerning and looks over to Juliet to see if she shares the same concern. 'I thought stranger danger would be a more universal lesson, but I guess not...'

It is a welcome relief when the child's mother does appear behind her, relieved knowing that she does have some caution about her while Echo might not. (Which Willow understands, having been a carefree child once herself.) While Juliet takes care of introductions, Willow once again debates on whether or not to reveal herself.

Ultimately, she decides to go for it, hoping high Elvish is as common a tongue as it is in Evermore. If anything, she supposes they'll recognize some of the lyricism common to the elvish dialects. ≪Greetings, hospitable stranger.≫ Willow places her right fist over her heart and holds her left fist, closed, behind her back as she inclines her head towards her elder.

Esmeray’s brows rise in surprise, eyes then narrowing in scrutiny. Willow worries that, perhaps, her Elvish is rusty or that her pronunciation isn’t clear enough or that Esmeray will not recognize her as an elf and will take offense to her attempt at the language. (She's well aware that being an elfling is uncommon and some clans outright reject elflings as elves at all, referring to them instead with more offensive terms.) But then Esmeray returns the gesture and speaks, quelling those particular fears. ≪From where do you hail, child?≫

Willow shuffles at the question, knowing it is to be expected and always unsure of how the answer will be received. (Another reason she had debated revealing herself.) ≪That, I do not know. My grandmother is unnamed.≫

"Oh, oh!" Echo jumps ahead of her mom, skipping backwards with excitement. ≪Perhaps we might use the ancestor constellation, mama? To help the heroine trace her lineage.≫

Esmeray shushes Echo and nods to Willow, giving nothing away of what she thinks of this. She neither asks further questions nor changes her mind about her offer for hospitality. Perhaps because their help is more important than who they’re related to. (Well, who Willow is related to in this particular case.) Whatever the case, Willow decides that she is safe enough with Lucky and Juliet if Esmeray changes her mind and decides to show another face. (Being clan-less and related to an unnamed is not something most elves take lightly. A clan’s decision to unname one of their own is reserved only for those who have committed the highest treason. Though Willow hardly thinks her grandma deserved what happened to her. There's nothing treacherous about falling in love and fighting for it.)

As they trail after the mother and child, chicken, rabbit, and bear, Willow looks fondly at the bear, a twinge of guilt coursing through her as she realizes she has disappeared in the middle of the night. Again. She grabs her side as that settles, knowing there is a slim (zero) chance she’ll even be able to make it back before Evermore’s sunrise. (Not to mention the danger her family may be in because of her actions at the temple. They’ll support her, no doubt, but she doesn’t want them to suffer because of her choices. At least Leif is there. That's some protection given his own celebrity status— doesn't matter that he doesn't play anymore, people still know his know name and face and think of him fondly despite the scandal. Even so, that won’t shield the likes of Sawyer or Meredith, who both can be used as scapegoats being a wolf and a fae from a tainted bloodline. Not to mention Dorothea and Jovi both are still very much in danger until they can convince both her and princess Elise to swap places.) She needs to make it back to Evermore soon and is grateful that Juliet hadn't volunteered her help with whatever favor Esmeray might need. As much as her heart bleeds for Folklore, and always will, Evermore needs their heroine too.

Still, maybe the bear is a sign that all will be alright. Calli reminds her of Valeria in that she is a bear. Though her grandma’s bear is larger, older, and golden in color. (She also notes that Esmeray had not introduced Calli as a companion and she wonders if she is merely a bear who took to the village and became its lingering guest, like a stray neighborhood cat or dog.)

Idly, without even putting much thought into it, Willow loops her arm with Juliet’s and rests her head against her shoulder as they walk. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve left you out of the conversation earlier. We just greeted each other. Esmeray asked about my grandma’s clan and I told her I didn’t know.” Willow doesn’t know why she doesn’t also tell Juliet about Elva’s status, but she supposes because it’s not really her story to share even if she carries it with her.

As they continue, Echo happily chatters as the group makes it back to the village, naming all the plants she knows— noting the ones they should stay away from and the ones that make scrumptious meals and the ones that smell like farts. In a low whisper, she recommends hiding these ones in their mothers’ cabinets. Willow smiles at that and comments that her family would be very amused by these smelly plants.

As they arrive at the village, Willow doesn’t even realize that they’re entering the village until they cross through a thin membrane-like barrier that shimmers like a mirage as they step through. “Woah.” She looks back at where they came from, noting the near-invisible charm that domes over Celestine. As she follows the arc of the dome, her eyes eventually level on the village itself. “Woah.”

It takes Willow’s eyes a second to adjust and spot the structures, as the village itself is set in a patch of old growth trees with trunks as thick as Lucky’s neck when they’re at their full titanic size. Above them, houses modeled after mushrooms have been built against the trunks of these ancient trees. Bridges have also been built between trees (and tree houses), allowing the residents to travel between them with ease. Ziplines and pulley systems also hang between the thicker branches, allowing for more ease of travel (Willow assumes). On the ground level, there are more houses along with several closed storefronts and vendor stalls. At the center of the village is a towering glowing crystal jutting out from the earth. The bottom is covered in vines and moss but higher, the brilliant blues shine brightest and she vaguely make out rune like markings on the stone. It takes a second glance, but Willow also notices that there are similar crystals growing on the tree bark and adorning some of the homes, especially the ones that appear older in age.

When Willow realizes they’re heading to one of the massive trees, she’s already dreading the climb up to whatever home they’re staying in. Esmeray seems to notice this in Willow's eye when she looks back to her. She chuckles. ≪Worry not. Our dwelling is ground level.≫ Then, looking to Juliet, she explains again. “Our home is just ahead.” Esmeray points to a fallen tree in the forest, with its roots exposed. Between the draping of exposed roots, Willow can make out a soft orange glow coming from a window. As they pass between the roots, there's a modest garden and a chicken coop beside it. Esemeray pats Echo’s bum and sends her to put Lulu to bed, telling her she’s also to go straight to bed afterwards. However, the look on Esmeray’s face shows that she doesn’t expect the child to listen. It also shows that she doesn’t plan to stifle the child’s wonderment, as she’s clearly excited and curious about the heroines.

The inside of the home is humble, warm, with smells of saffron, garlic, and onion filling the air from the kitchen set at the front of the home. Esmeray shows them to a modestly decorated guest room in the back. There are no beds within the room. Instead there are rolled up, feather-stuffed mats and nearly folded blankets in the corner. (Willow remembers grandma Elva complaining noisily that beds are the worst of inventions. “They are the spine’s slow killer.”) They set down their belongings (which isn’t much, considering they hadn’t planned on leaving Evermore) and then settle in the living room, taking seats on some cushioned chairs in front of the fireplace. Esmeray offers them some tea (Willow accepts) and some sweet rolls (Willow holds onto one, but doesn’t eat it just yet). Calli settles between the heroines and Esmeray, Momo settling on top of her in an animal stack. Willow can tell that Lucky is tempted to join in, but they ultimately choose Juliet's lap to curl on. (It’s pretty cute how her companion has taken to the archer.)

As they sit before the crackling flames, Willow spots a certain child peeking out from the corner and the second green and blue meet, Echo pulls back with what she must think is a quiet gasp. Esmeray shakes her head, but allows it. She opens her mouth to say something, but Willow speaks first as an idea takes hold. “Does your village recognize the mountain god?”

Esmeray nods. “We do. Though our patrons are the sky and star god and the god of wind. The mountain god plays a lesser role in our practices, but I light candles for them all. A god scorned is never a friend.”

“Yeah.” Willow agrees, nodding her head, thinking about that exiled god. She blinks and shakes it off. She can’t be thinking about that right now. There’s nothing more she can do about it now that she’s in Folklore again and thinking about it will only twist her up further. (But she will be writing to Sawyer before bed.) “I don't know if he's a patron for my grandma's people, but the mountain god is my favorite.” She watches carefully for Echo’s shadow, noticing that she’s scooting just closer to the corner, to the point the end of her white braid is poking out from her "hiding" spot. Willow smiles. Esmeray sighs. Then, shaking her head, she goes to scoop up her curious daughter, who squeaks in surprise when she's caught. Once Echo is settled in her mother's lap, Willow continues.

“He is also known as the heartless god, but not because he is cold and cruel like stone. See, once, long ago, the mountain god had been jilted by a lover in the worst way possible— he had caught his lover kissing another." Echo gasps. "Wounded, hurt, the mountain god ran from the scene but the image still played over and over again in his mind. He tortured himself for weeks on end, recalling the details, agonizing over what he might have done wrong. Whether the diamond gifts weren't perfect enough. Whether his rocky appearance finally disgusted his handsome lover. Whether it was only his relation to the god of love that motivated his lover to accept his advances. He worried and worried and worried until his heart twisted and contorted in his chest so fiercely, he thought he might drown.

"The pain became unbearable for the great god, to the point that desperation took over and he begged his mother, the god of love, to turn his heart to ice. She naturally refused and encouraged her son to move through the pain, promising it wouldn't last. This did not satisfy the stubborn mountain god, so he turned to his cousin, god of heartbreak, for advice. They echoed his mother's word and suggested the only way to be unfeeling, is to be heartless. They had not meant it as a suggestion, but the mountain god took it as such.

"On a moonless night, not too different from this one, the mountain god took his great diamond sword and cut open his chest, pulling his still beating heart from its cavity. Except, rather than finding the solid iron ore that should have been there, the pain of his heartbreak had grown so intense that his heart had melted into bubbling, bursting molten lava. While this surprised the mountain god, he decided it best to bury it, hoping the weight of the earth would extinguish the flames and harden the heart once more. However, once he dug the pit and erected a mountain over it for protection, the heart started to beat and shake the new mountain until it blew off its top, creating the first ever volcano."
 
Once more, Juliet finds herself clinging onto every word of Willow's story. As a young ballerina at the opera house, she never fully understood what people meant when they told her that her dancing painted such vivid pictures in their minds. (She has never watched herself dance, after all.) She has her own means, she supposes, as she has never been particularly skilled with words lest she be sparring with them. Willow James has a true, endearing talent of wielding words like they're magic. She can paint such pictures as she details them, breathing life and emotion into the mountain god and his plight. His pleas, the means he finally resorts to--

'Took his great diamond sword and cut open his chest, pulling his still beating heart from its cavity.' Juliet's hand pauses as it absentmindedly strokes along Lucky's scales. (The imagery shines a light upon a locked door in the throes of her mind. It's old, covered in cobwebs and something sinister growls from within-- throwing itself against it with abandon and causing it to tremble on the hinges. It stays shut. For now. For now...) Her heart shakes in her chest like an animal caught in a trap, with no means to move without severing a limb. 'My heart. You're here because you love me.' She can feel the bite of sharp stones against her back, the crackle of heels, the ends of raven skirts approaching.

'This is not love.'

Juliet resurfaces when Lucky nuzzles at her hand, as if to inquire why she stopped petting. (Or perhaps the dragon has sensed something amiss with the way she started staring into space... though the most obvious tell that something is wrong may be the way she hasn't yet treated herself to one of the sweet rolls.) Brought back to the present, it takes a moment for the archer to remember where she is. What she's doing here. (It is somewhat worrying, she supposes, the way she occasionally has to remind herself that she still exists somewhere in this reality. That she isn't just a shadow floating from moment to moment.) When she glances down at them and resumes stroking their scales, Lucky settles down again with a contented sigh. It isn't very long before their quiet snoos accompany the sound of the crackling fire. This appears to spread a contagious spell of drowsiness over everyone in the room... perhaps with the exception of little Echo, whose eyes are bright and eager. Her tiny hands are pressed empathetically over her own heart as reflects on the mountain god's story.

"Poor, poor mountain god. I would give him a big hug if I could." Echo sighs and then beams at Willow, wiggling around on her mother's lap. "You tell stories like my gran. Can you tell us another one? Please?"

"Aht, aht. It is time for you to sleep now, little one. Not just you, but all of us. The heroines have traveled far and surely wish to rest now." Esmeray chides, tapping her forefinger to Echo's nose. She lifts her daughter so she's standing up on her feet at her side, then, and pats her by the shoulder to steer her towards Calli. "...Will you make sure she makes it to her bed this time? I will be in to say goodnight soon."

Calli growls softly as if to say that she understands before nodding at Echo and guiding her down the hallway. The little girl pops back in the doorway before disappearing for good, though, waving with a big, dramatic swing of her arm. "...Goodnight Willow, Juliet! And you too, Lucky." Calli takes the end of Echo's shirt into her teeth, giving a very gentle tug that urges her to follow along. While they disappear down the hallway, can still hear Echo giggling from where they are in the sitting room. "Calli, that tickles!"

"Calli." Juliet speaks quietly when she's certain Echo, Calli and Momo have left the room. Esmeray meets her eyes in such a way that confirms the answer to the archer's question before she even asks it. "Calli is Princess Callisto, is she not?"

"...Indeed. But you mustn't tell anyone." Esmeray nods, looking between the two heroines with a protective fierceness flashing in her eyes. Juliet nods. Then, considering how to approach the story she has to tell, the elven woman taps her fingers idly against the handle of her tea cup as she peers down at her reflection. "If you know that much, then you must know it was the work of King Cayman." Her expression darkens. Juliet narrows her eyes gravely in return, an uncomfortable zing shooting down her spine. "She rejected his proposal."

"Of course she did. He's a bastard." Juliet says coldly, clenching her teeth. Not to mention thirty years older.

"She's the thirteenth princess to reject him this year. In a fit of rage, he turned the poor girl into a bear and then ordered his men to hunt her for sport." Esmeray sighs as she relays the story. Empathetic and enraged on behalf of the princess. "We found her wounded in the wood and brought her here. By consulting the stars we were able to hear her story. However, we've not yet found a way to break her curse." She looks at Juliet and Willow. "I know King Cayman's transformation magic is not the same as the Lightless transformations. But if there's anything you can do..." She shakes her head. "She is comfortable here. But I can tell she wishes to return to Arcadia. It is her home. Her kingdom was left in shambles... and she is the sole heiress."

"Is Arcadia still under attack?"

"...No. King Cayman has since set his sights elsewhere. Amoria." Esmeray divulges, clutching the handle of her tea cup now. She lifts it to her lips, takes a long sip, and sighs exhaustedly. "He announced his intentions to compete in the tournament for Princess Elise's hand." No. Juliet's blood freezes to ice. Not possible.

"Queen Viviane would never allow it." Juliet states, mostly to convince herself of this fact. Especially if...

"If you say so. The royals have been scrambling. Arcadia, Okeanos, Amoria..." Esmeray shakes her head somberly. "It's beginning to take a toll on everyone. Princess Elise's lover has gone missing as well. While some believe he fled the kingdom, others are inclined to believe that the queen threatened the poor fellow... or made him disappear."

Flynn. Juliet's heart sinks as she considers this, knowing all too well that he would not run. As infuriating as he is, he is much too good and loyal for his own good. He would never abandon Elise on purpose. Millicent must have known this news, too. She must not have shared it, because...

"Much has been happening. For now, it is best that we focus on what is right in front of us." Esmeray says, as if she's had to recite this mantra to herself quite a few times as of late. "Do you think you can help Princess Callisto?"

"I'm not certain if I can... but I will try." Juliet repeats the sentiment from before, gently petting Lucky's back. Then she glances at Willow. Similarly to Princess Callisto, she believes the sorceress will likely wish to return home in the morning after everything they encountered.

***​

It isn't too long after that that they agree to continue the conversation in the morning and Juliet and Willow are in their room, getting ready for bed. As they change into the nightclothes that Esmeray has lent them and unfold their blankets, Lucky discreetly pulls their mats closer together. The archer paces, still unpacking the information she's just learned, before her headache has her seeing double and persuades her to finally settle down. She distractedly starts combing tangles from her hair... and then glances at Willow. She will talk about something else, if only to distract herself from Princess Elise, Flynn Everson, and King Cayman.

"Did you bring your dagger with you?" Juliet asks, considering the earlier exchanges of elven dialect between Willow and their hosts. (Her cheeks heat as she recalls the soft of Willow's curls brushing at the crook of her neck as she grabbed onto her arm.) "We may be able to find the materials needed to fix it here in this village. If you wish to leave in the morning, I can keep it safe for you. I will search for the materials and give them to Hazel when I return to Amoria... and when we meet again I can return it to you." If she sounds hopeful at the prospect of meeting again, that is... just the headache, of course. And tiredness softens her voice. Shyly averting her eyes, she climbs over mat and tugs her blanket over herself. Then, for the first time, she rolls over onto the side that faces Willow. (And Lucky, who nestles themselves snugly between them.) Anyway... the sorceress may need a distraction as well, to help her ease into sleep. Especially after the night they had. "...Do you have any more stories?"
 
Juliet August is facing her. They’re laying down and Juliet August is facing her for the first time ever. Willow sucks in her lower lip and takes in the archer, lit only by the stars and nothing more. She can barely make out the shine in her eyes, the slope of her nose. It takes the sorceress a moment to process the question as she herself processes the fact that Juliet August might very well fall asleep facing her. (This feels like a turning point night. The kind of night where people go from ordinary friends to best friends.)

Willow nods slowly. “That’s very kind, Juliet, but I'll take care of the dagger. And I do want to return to Evermore ASAP— that means, as soon as possible— but I also want to make sure you make it to Amoria safe.” She’s no longer so naïve to believe that Juliet will be safe there. There’s no telling who might be after her (and Willow) following the incident in Okeanos. (The image of Juliet standing up to the king of Okeanos as he threatened to kill his brother in front of a live audience— that included his wife and his sister— is seared into her mind, so she cannot imagine that anyone in the court has forgotten. And she can only imagine what others might be whispering when talking about what they saw that night.) Juliet August has a reputation in Folklore. Still, being in Amoria offers a hair more safety than the wood, where any number of accidents (and “accidents”) can claim the archer. Of course she knows that Juliet will be back in the wood again once she’s dealt with the princess’s situation, the suitors, the missing lover, the Laurences, and the Stanleys. She knows there's only so much she can do to protect her. Willow just wants to take care of her for as long as she can. It’s not much, she knows, but she doesn’t want to leave her alone. With Grace in Evermore, who else might look after Juliet? Princess Elise and Milfred both are location bound. Juliet is capable, obviously, but that doesn’t mean she should always have to be on her own. “Or at least until Grace makes her way back.”

“I’m also curious if I might be able to help Princess Callisto.” She admits, albeit shyly. While her skills are needed in Evermore, Juliet doesn’t know a lick about magic. Willow does. More than that, most of Folklore believes that royals are the only responsible users (and, clearly, they aren’t). She has the most license to do something as someone from Evermore. As a heroine from Evermore, no less. It’s the responsible thing to try and help this cursed princess. Were there more time, she’d also think about figuring a way to even the score with King Cayman. If she was able to throw Griffith’s hex back at him, maybe she could do the same to this Cayman. Wouldn’t that be funny? (Somehow, she doesn’t think it will be that easy.) “I’ve studied transformation magic. It’s the basis for my keychains.” She turns and reaches over for them, flipping back around to jangle them in the air. “Transformation, illusions, and a sprinkle of belief.” Plus will, but that goes without saying. All magic is based on the will of the caster.

“But you wanted a story, not a magic lesson.” Willow grins. With her eyes now adjusted to the dark, she can see more of Juliet. ‘I hope we get more time together now. I don’t want to wait.’ She reaches over to push a stray strand of hair behind Juliet’s ear. “Well, I’ve already told you about Fearless and the mountain god today. Might as well tell you the story of how it was the mountain god who hid Fearless from the tyrant god.

“After the god of love left Fearless, she went to visit her son and told him of Fearless’s plight. As she told the story, it was clear that she was requesting her son’s aid in helping this mortal. The mountain god, however, was more perturbed by the fact his mother had been ousted from her own temple.

‘Mother,’ he had said, eyes wide. ‘What of your temple? Are you not concerned that you are only the first to fall?’

‘Do I look fallen to you, son?’ the god of love replied, arching her bright pink brow. She even stood from her seat for good measure, as if that might prove her point. But, truthfully, the god of love is the most mysterious of the gods and one usually only figures out her plan after the fact. ‘Of course that is a concern, but I have found my champion. Now, will you help me, my son?’

“The mountain god considered this and though he had already lost his heart by that point, he was not unfeeling. He could see the care for this mortal in his mother’s eyes and while he could not understand it, he could not deny her. He is a mother’s boy, after all. ‘What would you have me do, mother?’

“The god of love smiled her wolfish smile and simply disappeared, because she knew her son would do anything for her and that an explanation would never be truly necessary.

“When she reappeared again, a few hours later, she held Fearless’s slack figure in her arms and asked her son to watch over her. None would dare disturb the mountain god, strongest of the pantheon, so it was a sound place of hiding. ‘My work in that village is not finished. I will be back.’

‘What if she wakes before you return?’

“The love god blinked and furrowed her brow. ‘She will. It will be fine.’

“Fine might have been too strong a word, because when Fearless awoke in a strange bed with an even stranger man watching over her, she naturally attacked. It took more strength in the mountain god to not accidentally crush the flimsy mortal as he defended himself and tried to explain himself and her situation. Fearless never calmed. She fought back until she fell asleep and on and on the cycle went. She’d wake. Fight the mountain god. Try to escape. Fall asleep, rinse, repeat.

“Eventually, on the seventh day, she wore herself out and wandered deeper through the mountain home, only to discover that, the deeper she went, the more fine the home became until it was clear she was within a mountain palace. When she realized she was, in fact, in a palace and not some strange man’s cave hovel, she quickly figured out just who she had been fighting all this time. A deep shame washed over her, but when the mountain god found her again, saw her groveling for forgiveness, he laughed. Deep, rich, cacophonous laughter that might have sounded evil if he wasn’t so warm himself. ‘Get up mortal. If I were offended, I would have already snapped you in two. Do you realize how brittle your bones are? And your skin, it’s like jelly.’

“So began their friendship.” Willow finishes with a yawn. “Sometime, I’ll have to tell you the story of Fearless’s legendary sword and how the mountain god helped her forge it.”

Willow closes her eyes and when she opens them again, a second later, morning light streams in through the window and the soft scuttling of whatever creatures share this tree home fills the air. She’s still on her side, facing the spot where Juliet once lay but finds the archer has already beaten her to waking. This is not surprising. It’s more surprising that Lucky must have risen with her, because they are not in the room either. She smiles. ‘Lucky James, I knew Juliet August would grow on you.’

With a cat-like stretch, she yawns and rises from her mat, neatly rolling it up and setting it beside Juliet’s. She changes back into her clothes from the previous day and slips on the Pantera jacket, leaving her triple great grandfather’s behind. She looks over the rips and scuffs in the leather, noting the gentle twinkles around the blemishes as the jacket mends itself with intricate embroidery work. ‘So it’s true.’ Panteras get better with age. ‘Meredith is going to be so jelly.’

She summons her staff into her hand and snaps it around her wrist for the time being. While she intends to out herself as a caster, she recognizes that it’s an advantage to have her skill hidden. With luck, she’ll be able to cast when it counts and really force adversaries to think twice about trying her. (Conversely, she may only inspire her enemies to conspire against her. But she also might inspire other casters to come out of the shadows and conspire against their collective enemies.)

The sorceress glides through to the front room on a small breeze, still rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. A small body crashes into her legs and proportionally small arms wrap around them, nearly knocking Willow off balance. “Willow!! I missed you.” Echo rubs her cheek against her. Willow smiles and musses her hair.

“Little one,” Esmeray sighs, stepping out from the kitchen. “The heroine is just waking up. Why don’t you ask if she’d like some breakfast?”

“Oh! Okay.” Echo nods, still hugging onto Willow’s legs. She looks up at the sorceress, squeezing her. “Would you like some breakfast? We have fresh eggs!”

Without waiting for Willow’s reply, Echo grabs her hand and pulls her over to the dining table, then scampers into the kitchen to retrieve the necessary breakfast materials. Esmeray pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, but a smile still tugs at the corner of her mouth. Willow chuckles. “It’s fine, really. She’s cute enough to get away with it.”

“Being cute has saved her many a time.” Echo slides past her mother with a set of plates and utensils and goes to haphazardly set the table. She then runs back to the kitchen to gather the rest of the supplies. “Careful, Jericho.” The elder elf then turns back to Willow. “Would you care for any coffee? Tea? Juliet stepped out a moment ago to fetch some berries. Lucky trailed after her. I expect they should be back soon.”

Willow nods, requesting some coffee as she looks around the home, taking in the woven tapestries that line the wall. Calli saunters in from the back of the house and settles down in the front room, where there is a warm patch of sunlight to bathe in. When Esmeray comes back in with the coffee, Echo follows behind her with a pan of scrambled eggs. She sets it down on a pot holder and heaps more eggs than Willow could ever eat onto her plate. Satisfied, she nods and settles down in the chair between her mother and Willow.

“Thank you, Echo. You’re very helpful.” Echo beams at this, kicking her legs under the table. Willow smiles and eats her breakfast. As she does, she looks over at Calli. “I’d like to help with that favor, if you’ll have my help. I’ll need more information, but I think I can at least get you closer to figuring out a solution.” She won’t promise that she can reverse the curse, but she is confident that she can identify the mechanics.

“Any amount of help would be appreciated.”

“There is something else, too.” Willow mentions, looking worriedly over at Echo then to Esmeray. Esmeray quirks her brow, but seems to understand that what Willow has to share next might not be for tikes. She leans over and whispers something in her daughter’s ear. Echo gasps and nods, sliding out of her seat and running towards the back of the house. When Willow is confident the girl isn’t spying, she summons the damaged dagger, wrapped in Leif’s old jersey. Esmeray leans in closer. "As I said yesterday, my grandma is unnamed and she goes by the name Elva now." Recognition seems to cross Esmeray's features, but she waits to speak. "This is something she was able to smuggle from her village before her banishment. It's damaged and I’ll need help retrieving materials to repair it, if you agree.”

Esmeray narrows her eyes, still choosing to remain quiet until she has more information. Willow sucks in a breath and pulls back the folds of the jersey to reveal the curved dagger with a serrated back. The other elf immediately jerks away, eyes wide like she's just looked into the soul of malevolence itself. “What have you brought into this house, child?”

“I understand that these daggers were omens during the war and I don't come with ill will." Willow explains, trying to keep her voice level and calm. (She worried this might be Esmeray's reaction and it's partly why she hadn't wanted Juliet's help. It could have been dangerous for Juliet, a non-elf, to bring in something so harrowing and request help in fixing it.) "I brought it with me for protection. It was the only weapon I had when I left Evermore. I know it functions without the handle intact, but being able to see it restored—"

“Child, don’t be a fool. If it is damaged, perhaps it should stay that way.”

“I-I understand.” Willow settles back into her seat, hot shame heating up her cheeks. She sits quiet for a moment, poking at her pile of eggs, but when the heat in her cheeks dissolves, a fire lights in her heart instead. She doesn’t know what comes over her next, perhaps it’s all the stories she’s been telling of the fearless god, or maybe the flash memories from the previous night, but she doesn’t let herself accept Esmeray’s answer. Not until the elder has heard her out fully. “Look, I get your caution but with the way things are going in the realms," she looks over to Calli, as an example, "I think the dagger's full properties will be valuable to the cause."

“Can you really guarantee that this weapon will stay in your hands alone?" Esmeray does not relent, but she keeps any hint of anger from her tone, if she even is angry. The elder clicks her tongue and stares off to the side, looking at nothing in particular. "It is too great a risk to restore something of that power.”

"Will you at least consider the request?"

"My mind is made. Now put that away before Jericho sees. Gods know the questions she'll ask and she is not ready for those memories."

At that Willow nods and wraps the dagger back up, placing it on her lap. She drops the argument as well, but somehow the other elf's worry is exactly what steels her resolve to see the dagger fixed. And when she accepts that? A gust of wind blows open the door, clanging the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen, disturbing the tapestries on the wall, and shuttering all of the cabinet doors as it sweeps through the home. Both Willow and Esmeray cover their ears, though Esmeray has her eyes crushed shut like she's in pain. "Fine, fine!" The other elf relents and the wind calms some in response. "I will consider your request, heroine. But I make no promises."

Before Willow can even express her gratitude, Echo dashes through the home and out the front door, leaping into the air like she's a predator pouncing her prey. "Juli-Juli-Juliet!"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Edric Blight
Fandom Magical Expectations [HP 1x1] - Edric and Sponge
2 boys closed harry potter
Replies
45
Views
682
Edric Blight
Edric Blight
TheCutestBookmark
Realistic or Modern A Fight in the Arena and a Fight for Love
Replies
6
Views
146
TheCutestBookmark
TheCutestBookmark
Garului
Fandom Just a simple PMD roleplay
2 3 4 pokemon mystery dungeon
Replies
84
Views
384
Garului
Garului
Edric Blight
Fandom The Untold Stories of Hogwarts - 1x1 HP RP
51 52 53 54 55 closed fluff harry potter
Replies
1K
Views
6K
EquineGurl23
EquineGurl23
Lucyfer
Fandom Fallout New Vegas: All Roads [Closed]
fallout new vegas
Replies
4
Views
76
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Back
Top