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

[ellarose]

Juliet rises before the sun. Though to be honest, she barely slept through the night with her mind jam-packed thoughts. There are her various new experiences and memories from the other side. Dorothea. Jovi, chained down during a ritual intended to restore order to a tyrant god. Princess Elise locked up in the tower, Flynn Everson's disappearance, King Cayman. (The tournament. Since he cannot persuade a princess to marry him by choice, it is obvious that he intends to do so in such a way where she has no choice in the matter. He's a bastard.) The dwellers of this village may not be quite so curious, but upon their return to Amoria Juliet is certain everyone they meet will demand answers regarding their disappearance in Okeanos. (She hardly understands it yet herself. Magic is all around her and she is running as fast as she can to keep up with each new twist and turn.) The Laurence and Stanley families are awaiting her arrival. There is also Grace. Grace, who is still in Evermore. Her companion could hardly stand without collapsing into a heap when she left her in Willow James's room. Of course she is in no condition to travel this far. If she even can. The fox would push herself to her breaking point to close the distance between them, to make sure that Juliet is safe... and that is exactly what she's afraid of.

Nestled between these thoughts are the way the ends of Willow James's bouncy curls sent sparks of electricity skittering over the soft skin of her neck when they brushed against her, when she took her arm on their walk into the village. The way she wrapped her up in such a tight embrace upon summoning her away from the chimera. Her fingers gently taking a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear before telling another one of her stories. At first the memories are comforting. They're as warm as her touch. Willow never reaches out to hurt her... and Juliet cannot foresee her hurting her, either. This wherein lies the problem, the danger-- where she is lulled by promises of safety and care-- and then cut apart when she is most vulnerable. It may not be by Willow James's hand... it may be fate. Their circumstances coming from different sides-- in regards to their worlds, yes, and their mindset on what it means to save love as well.

Juliet cannot envision Willow agreeing with her methods. There are many risks involved. It is dangerous. (And she wouldn't ask her to follow her down this path, either, knowing the repercussions it may bring.) But much like their fight last night, Juliet has been offered a rare opportunity. She cannot waste it by hesitating, by drawing back in fear of what she's capable of. She cannot sit still. She has to embrace it. To do nothing and watch the world continue on as it has would be maddening. (So she will see it through, even if the cost is her identity or even her life.) The worlds are forces to be reckoned with. Those who tread too lightly, who are too afraid to challenge the unchallenged cannot make lasting change upon them. Willow James may be reaching out for the heart buried beneath the mountain in her, reminding her that she is not heartless in spite of everything. But Juliet August will not allow it to spill out like lava from the mouth of a volcano.

Along with all of these thoughts Juliet has her headache to contend with as well. The archer tries to ignore it as she gives up on the notion of sleeping any longer, rising and folding her bedding quietly as not to wake Willow. Upon greeting Esmeray, she asks if there are any clothes she might borrow and selects a dark emerald green dress from the assortment offered to her. (As much as she appreciates the clothes she received in Evermore, she would rather not draw any more attention than usual when she ventures outside. Villages such as these are less likely to be teeming with smarmy gossip than the kingdoms-- but that does not mean it is non-existent. So long as there are people there will always be gossip.) When Esmeray and Echo tell her they're heading to the coop to collect eggs for breakfast, she automatically offers to pick some berries. Who knows where her mind will go if it's left to wander any longer? She needs to do something with herself, otherwise...

With that sorted, Juliet is sent off with a basket. She breathes in the crisp morning air, soaking in the atmosphere with the aroma of the star-shaped flowers she passes, the soft crunch of her footsteps, and the way the rising sun sets the village and surrounding woodland aglow with pastel yellows and pinks. The moonless night has passed and a new day has begun. While a few of the villagers are early risers, there are not so many people out and about that she's uncomfortable walking the dirt road towards the wood. Her red hair is accentuated by the sunlight and naturally catches the eye of a few passersby, but when she meets their eyes all they have to offer are waves or nods of recognition. Hm. In the light, this village does look a bit familiar. Before she was known as a heroine of love-- or even red hood-- she was known as 'Lara's little redhead' throughout many of the smaller villages. (...Naturally, she has always resented the 'little' part of that title.) While Lara's services were requested all across the kingdoms, she always made time to pass through the villages in between whether they be big or small. With her inclination to help any stranger in need, the woman seemed to have good friends in every place she ever took Juliet to visit. Word of her spread naturally through her connection to Lara. It's been so long... but they had been through Arcadia once or twice. Juliet would not be surprised if she's visited Celestine as well and simply cannot remember it. After all, she'd been so young then. Some days of travel consisted of her sleeping or recovering from fights while Lara carried her over her shoulder like a sack.

Juliet is venturing into the wood by the time she realizes Lucky has followed after her. (While she had thought to check her letters, her red crystal remains tucked inside her dress. While there are sure to be plenty waiting, she will wait until she's certain she's alone.) This may be for the best, however, as she nearly slips while traversing stepping stones across a stream when her headache returns with a vengeance and the dragon rights her with the nudge of their wing. "...I'm all right. Thank you." She says softly to the dragon's pointed look of concern. They tilt their head towards the village, clearly urging her to go back. But she keeps pushing forward.

Juliet collects berries as well as a few murmuring mums, which she presses into her skirt pocket. Then she kneels before the stream. The archer lowers both of her hands within before swirling her hands in a circular motion... and finally, she takes one of the mums and sets it in the center. When she's sure no one else (besides Lucky James) is around to hear her, she utters the witch of the wood's name. "Millicent. I need to talk to you."

The trees and bushes shudder all around her, their leaves fluttering and startling the birds and woodland creatures. A few moments later Millicent's reflection appears in the stream. She's wearing her worm on a string coiled on her head like a hat.

"Oh, Lucifer! What a pleasant surprise this is, to receive a message from my favorite dragon in the worlds. Good morning." The witch greets the dragon with a delighted grin... as if they were the one who somehow managed to initiate this conversation. It's only when Juliet frowns at being ignored that she shifts her attention over to the archer. "...Hello Juliet. You remembered the mums! What is it?"

"I have some questions." Juliet bites her lip uncertainly.

"Grace is safe, Juliet. I checked. Willow's family is taking good care of her and she'll come back to you as soon as she's well enough." Mllicent nods sagely. "As long as she rests and recovers properly everything will be fine."

"...I-- yes, I was going to ask about that. That's good." Juliet concedes, relief already sinking in with that confirmation. That's one question answered, at least. (And with it answered, she neglects to bring up the headaches. There are more pressing matters to attend to right now.) "But there's something else, Millie. It's about King Cayman."

***
​

Juliet catches Echo with ease as she announces her sneak attack, reminding her somewhat of Willow during their first lesson on sneak attacks. (Since then she's grown a lot.) With the basket full of berries in one hand and the child tucked under her other arm, she slips off her muddy combat boots (yes, she kept the boots at least) and then steps inside. Gently, she sets Echo down and then rests the basket on the table.

"Oh, you found a ton!" Echo is already appraising her selection. "Elderberries, gooseberries... and oooh. What are these ones?" She scoops up a handful of bumpy orange berries.

"Cloudberries."

"Wow!" Echo gasps and then skips off, taking the basket off into the kitchen area to sort them into bowls. She climbing onto the counter in attempt to reach the higher shelves. Juliet and Lucky both move like they're going to help her-- but Esmeray has the quickness of a mother who knows her daughter and steps in behind her to help, ensuring that she doesn't take a tumble off the furniture.

"They don't taste like the clouds we ate at the fair." Juliet clarifies for Willow. She tilts her head, noticing the Pantera jacket and the embroidery that since replaced the various tears and scuffs. It changed. (Briefly, she also remembers her grandma calling her a thief as though it were a term of endearment.) "It looks good on you." This is simply an observation. "You should something new to wear while we're here if you're planning on accompanying me to Amoria."

"You can borrow something of mine if you like. My friend Tara also runs a shop nearby. You may be able to find something there." Esmeray recommends as she puts the finishing touches on the table setting. She brings out a plate of toast while Echo arranges the berry bowls. "Now let's eat."

***​

Once they're finished with breakfast and the cleanup afterwards, Juliet and Willow take a walk through the village. As it's still quite early, they'll have to wait before some of the different shops and establishments open their doors.

"I asked Mil--" Juliet pauses midway through saying the witch's name, recalling Willow's chosen name for her. "Milfred about the curse." Names have power, after all, and she's not going to reveal it without permission. Still, she wonders how much longer Millicent will keep it a secret considering the liking she's taken to Willow and Lucky both. "She didn't have much to tell me. Just that transformation curses in Folklore are tricky and unique to the individual. She said that the cure can come from their desires or their fears... or that the princess may need to be reminded of who she is in some way, since she's taken a new form." She bites her lip, uncertain of how much help this will be to whatever insight Willow may already have on transformation magic. "...Are there any supplies we might need to look for while we're out?"

 

[starboob]

The rest of breakfast is quiet. Or rather, Willow remains quiet as she reviews the conversation she had prior to Juliet’s return to the home. Part of her regrets talking back to an elder. She chews on the inside of her cheek. On the other hand, she does believe what she told Esmeray. Where she understands the other elf’s reservations— after all, she has glimpsed the power of the dagger before— she also knows what she saw last night in Evermore. She knows what she witnessed in Okeanos. (She can still feel King Cederick’s hands wrapped around her arms like pythons.) And she knows that he is not even the worst king among them all, if Princess Callisto is any evidence of that. The royals, the dynasty families of the realms have nothing to keep them in check— aside from two women determined to save love and ruin the appetites of these power hungry, chicken hearted, greedy guts. She knows they can be faithful champions of love, that the fates would not task them with the impossible, but would it really hurt to have this advantage?

Esmeray eyes Willow throughout breakfast. It’s not obvious, but Willow can feel her observing her, likely deliberating her decision, assessing her character. All the sorceress can do is show the integrity of her heart, so she tries to not overthink it.

When herself and Juliet walk through the village, Willow distractedly fiddles with the zipper of the Pantera jacket. (Her cheeks flush whenever she thinks about Juliet August complimenting her in it.) Her ears perk when the other woman shares what she learned from Milfred and she nods.

“That makes sense.” Willow agrees, unsurprised by the information. While magic is wielded differently in Folklore, she has noticed more similarities in the principles behind each spell or potion. Milfred’s notion that a transformation curse may be rooted in desire, fear, or the self (perhaps even a combination) aligns with what the sorceress already knows of transformation curses. While this means she’s no further from the starting line than she was last night, it also confirms that there is at least the possibility of a solution, unlike werewolf curses which have yet to be successfully undone by any afflicted. (Sawyer never even made an attempt, leading Willow to believe she either likes being a werewolf (and she knows she does now) or that she already knows it’s actually impossible.) “This is good. This means I can help. I might need to consult with Milfred and Sawyer both,” she blows out a raspberry, already exhausted by the thought alone, “but between the three of us, I think we’ll be able to cook something up for Calli. We’re all geniuses.” She grins, actually believing those words in a rare bout of confidence. (The voice inside her head that often sounds like her father is silent too, for once.)

“But, first, I’ll need to know everything that is known about King Cayman’s magic.” She keeps her voice low and a smile on her lips as they pass through the slowly waking village. “Are there stories of how his family developed their craft?” While the basis is in transformation, knowing the history and evolution of his casting could help identify where the answer lies.

They spend the rest of the morning talking through what they both collectively know about Cayman’s magic and transformation curses. Willow explains that a curse like this can be analogous to the labyrinths, as Milfred suggested, in that what can keep the individual in their state is almost always based in something personal— whether that be desire, fear, or the deep self. Just like how the labyrinths have trapped Lightless by forcing them to confront themselves. However, this particular curse isn’t meant as a personal quest as the Lightless curse seems to be. These curses, using ill will, are meant to trap, confuse, and torment their victims. Particularly powerful casters can even set impossible conditions to be met in order to have the transformation undone. Willow mentions the urban legend of a scorned wizard who turned a woman into a boulder and the only way she’d be able to regain her true form back would be for her true love to weep over her rock face. The story doesn’t end well, with the true love coming to her in the form of a road worker tasked with removing the boulder from the obstructed road where the wizard placed her. Her lover blasted her to fine sand without ever realizing what he’d done. After all, who would weep for a boulder?

Willow only mentions this as a way to determine whether or not King Cayman might have this kind of will at his disposal. If so, it will be more difficult to figure out the conditions of Calli’s curse, but not impossible.

In any case, Willow also recommends that they create protection talismans for themselves. If these kinds of magics are already rampant in Folklore, it’s only a matter of time before adversaries try to target them both. They are shaking the table and those at the head usually don’t appreciate that. “The first part of creating a talisman is finding an object that represents us— whether it’s something we’ve had since we were babies, a gift given by someone important, or really anything. It just has to have a deep personal significance.” Willow admits she’s unsure of what she’ll use, mentioning she has quite a number of objects to choose from.

In the meantime, she asks for Juliet’s help in gathering some ingredients for the talismans, deciding she ought to use a mixture of Folklore's soup casting and Evermore’s rune casting. The spell will hold for longer, she reasons, and she wants Juliet’s especially to hold. She doesn’t know when she’ll see her again after they part ways in Amoria and, thus, when she'll be able to reinforce the charm. (She’ll make sure to leave the instructions with Milfred, too, of course, but Juliet’s life is so chaotic that she knows she cannot count on the archer being able to visit Milfred frequently.)

Remembering what she learned from Milfred’s magic lesson and the Saffron family tome, she has Juliet identify the safe plants to use. She goes based on the logic that there is inherent protection in the worlds itself, that nature is the fiercest mother, and then attempts to feel for the aura of the plants through smell. Admittedly she doesn’t know whether it's actually working, whether she’s really identifying plants with the most potent auras or if she’s just picking the most fragrant plants. (She has not yet been able to actually meditate at the spots indicated on the Saffron aura curating map.) At the very least, she knows she'll have something to work with and she only hope it's strong.

Once they’ve gathered the necessary materials and head back into the village, it’s around midday and the village itself is bustling with life. Willow’s heart swells seeing all the people— the elves— milling about. She spots a group of children trailing after an elder like ducklings. There’s another group of elves dressed in simple robes who appear to be inspecting the crystal at the center of the village. Some are taking notes. Others appear to be channeling the crystals energy through touch. Then, of course, there are the shops and vendor stalls of all sorts.

They intend to head to the shops first and while they only intend to check out Tara’s shop, their stomachs first lead them to a vendor selling something that reminds Willow of stromboli. It’s only when their stomachs are full that they actually make it to Tara’s. They explain to her that they’re friends of Esmeray and Tara laughs that they hadn’t first introduced themselves as the heroines of love. She then waves them into the back and helps Willow select some clothes. Just before Willow ducks into one of the changing stalls, she sheds the jacket (finally) and wraps it around Juliet’s shoulders. “I, uh, was just keepin’ it warm for you.”

Noting that, similar to home, there don’t seem to be strict gendered styles within this elven village, Willow inquires about a more masculine look. Practically speaking, it will be much easier to travel and move in pants than a dress. More importantly, the style is much more appealing to the sorceress. Tara helps fit her into a dark blue short sleeve tunic with silver buttons and embroidery work around the mock neck collar and around the sleeves. The embroidery seems to be modeled after constellations. The seamstress also recommends that she select a long sleeve undershirt as the seasons in the wood are ever changing, so Willow picks out a plain light blue undershirt and a white shawl. She matches this with a brown leather belt, immediately securing Fearless Daylight and her bundle of keychains to it, and similarly colored trousers along with dark colored boots that lace up to her knees. She purchases a few other necessities before they thank Tara and move onto another shop.

The second shop sells bags, both regular and enhanced, and while it would be easier to purchase a pre-enchanted bag, Willow isn’t satisfied with the properties assigned to each one and elects to purchase an ordinary leather coin pouch that she’ll enchant later.

On their way back to Esmeray’s home, Willow loops their arms together as she had the previous night. “I think we’ll have enough to present to Esmeray that we can assure her we’ll be closer to a solution by the time we— or you,” as that is what is most likely going to happen, “return. I’ll make sure to leave detailed notes.” She sighs, kicking a rock in front of her. She wishes there were a way for her to exist in two places at once. (Her mirror clones make that a possibility, but it’s not the same. It's not exactly what she means by this sentiment.)

“Do you think King Cayman has a chance at winning the tournament?” She glances over at Juliet, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It’s no comfort, but at least Griffith King never had to manipulate Dorothea into a relationship with him since they’re threaded. (A thread-matching like theirs is part of her resolve for figuring out just what is going on with love, because there is no way the fates would string together two people who could not make each other more miserable. And, yes, Willow does believe Dorothea makes Griffith miserable. It just might not be obvious. She also doesn’t mean this to say that Dorothea is wicked herself, but whatever she’s up to… She’s clearly messing with Griffith as much as she can. Willow hopes so at least. She hopes that’s what’s going on, if only because it will mean Dorothea still has some of her fight. Still has some of her free-spirit left.) “Is Princess Elise’s fate doomed?”

 

[ellarose]

Willow is holding onto her arm. Juliet blinks, perplexed, and misses about half of what the sorceress is saying. (It's unlike her to miss such things, but Willow James is holding onto her arm. She's warm, her hold relaxed. She is not yanking her about or digging her nails in to scold-- she's just holding her to hold her. 'Why?' A faint blush colors her cheeks. She doesn't pull away. Suddenly, faced with the simple comfort of it, she may not possess the strength to. A second longer cannot hurt, can it? As long as she acknowledges this isn't going to last... it will be fine. Her companion is acknowledging that fact herself, isn't she? 'When we-- or you return.' It will not last.) Her heart skips a ditty in tune with their footsteps and she looks down at their feet. Gracie would usually be right there at her calves. She misses her. "Ah, notes. Right... thank you." If word spreads that she's healed one of King Cayman's victims as well, her workload as heroine will only increase. Expected to be everywhere at once. Sort of like Lara had been... if they were to meet again, perhaps she would travel alongside her like she used to. This time as equals.

'You know it will never happen.' A voice taunts, shoving an arrow through her heart. 'What became of Lara?'

Juliet's too old to be missing Lara like a child misses her mother. But now she's missing Grace and also confronting the fact that perhaps someday she will be missing Willow James as well... she cannot help it. Someday she'll be alone again. That's just how it is. The shadows on the ground stretch eerily in front of them. They're all too long. The archer holds her breath as she skims them over for eyes and sharp teeth. When Willow asks about King Cayman the shadows shiver and snap back into place. The archer inaudibly releases the breath she'd been holding, redirecting her attention.

"King Cayman is a liar and a dirty cheat. He will find ways to eliminate his competition in the shadows." Juliet explains gravely. "That is how he usurped the throne in the first place. In fact, he is one of the main reasons why the royals fear magic users outside of their own circles. Had he not appeared the way he did, things might be different." She lapses into silence briefly, thinking of Millicent. Of the way her expression twisted darkly when she spoke that name. It is because of those like him that she has to hide herself away from the rest of the world. (Because of him, too, that people are wary of those who mysteriously appear from the unknown and the wood. Like her.) "Initially, he was a brute from a hidden island. A place rife with strange magic. Before his appearance, this island was thought to be a place that only existed in stories. A myth. But it's real."

The hair on the back of Juliet's neck stands up whenever she thinks about it. (The island is real, but it hasn't been found yet. The island is still hidden, a well-kept secret, but she can paint it so vividly in her mind whenever she thinks about it. Perhaps due to the fact that Lara told her such lively stories about the island. About King Cayman's heroic rival, who thwarted him time and time again when he was not yet a king.)

"It's there where he claimed to have discovered the secrets of the world and immortality both." Juliet continues her explanation. "There are many rumors about how he attained his uncanny magic. Some say he kidnapped the queen of the fairies and held her for ransom, demanding wishes and fairy gifts. Others say he absorbed the pure heart of his rival and siphoned all of his magic away." There's more. There's so much more. The archer rolls her eyes to indicate this. "There are those who say it was locked away in a treasure box in one of the island's many mystical caves... and those who say he performed a ritual with entrails and a vial of mermaids tears." She shakes her head, at a loss. There are so many stories at this point that the truth is bundled away in fantastical mystery, growing King Cayman's reputation. Growing the aura of danger that surrounds him. "The answers must be on that island somewhere."

"As it's hidden, it hasn't yet been marked on any map. Apparently, it is as much of a trial to leave that island as it is to find it. Many have disappeared trying to do just that. The explorer who came closest said one must first travel through Wonderland." A land of nonsense and riddles. Those who travel there are turned upside down, quite literally. Their rights become lefts, their ups become downs. "Most who enter are quickly disoriented and never find their way back out." Juliet blushes again, mostly at the sound of her own voice. There is much to say when it comes to King Cayman, his magic, and his influence on Folklore. She wants Willow to be prepared, just in case if they encounter him in Amoria. "...That he was able to make through Wonderland with his mind intact is a feat. He is not one to be underestimated."

"Anyway, when it comes to his magic... King Cayman has many abilities. He grew back his missing right hand, replacing it with a monstrous one. There is an eye in the palm of that hand. If he can get his victims to stare into it, he can transform them in any way he chooses. He usually does this by elongating his fingers and holding their heads in place." Juliet bites her lip, rubbing her forearm with her free hand. (It does not provide nearly as much comfort as stroking Grace's back does.) "Many have also presumed that the eye is his weakness, as he keeps it covered with a specially tailored glove when he isn't fighting."

"He invaded the kingdom of Scarwood several years ago and turned the nobility and all those who opposed him into crocodiles. The castle moat is filled with them." Juliet shudders, thinking specifically of Brooks's companion. The crocodile was always slithering about and watching her. Very much like Huxley had watched Dorothea, really, but creepier and crawlier. "Ruling by fear, the rest of the kingdom was forced to serve him. Perhaps the most unsettling thing about him is that every attempt on his life has failed thus far. He's been stabbed and even cut in half... but his body rapidly patches itself back together." She clicks her tongue. It's irritating. No one should possess that much power. "It seems the only thing he hasn't been able to do is convince a princess to marry him. He has been trying to legitimize himself in the eyes of the other royals for years... but it seems he has finally lost his patience now with the kingdom of Arcadia and Princess Callisto."

"Queen Viviane will likely allow him to enter the tournament with this in mind. She will want to keep the peace in Amoria... especially with the current conditions in Okeanos." Juliet admits sourly. They've made it back to Esmeray's home, but she pauses out in front as she continues. "However... there is no way she would allow for Elise to fall into his clutches. I've no doubt in my mind that she would orchestrate some way to fight him back from the shadows." She bites her lip again, deep in thought. For once, her nervousness is visible. "It's complicated. They're both powerful people, so there is no telling what may happen. Also..." She hesitates... but she must bring it up. Better now rather than later-- better now than in front of Princess Elise. "King Cayman may be responsible for the death of King Alistair. After their search, the guards came to the conclusion that the intruders who killed the king came with the intention of kidnapping Princess Elise. It... happened in her chambers." Juliet pauses, distantly recalling the day Elise had confided in her about it. "While this hasn't been proven yet, it is highly likely they were sent from Scarwood." And if it was King Cayman, it was most likely to hold Elise captive until she was of age to marry. The number of eligible princesses is dwindling and many have rejected him. Sick bastard.

Queen Viviane has invited much more trouble to Amoria than she bargained for with her attempt to control her daughter's fate with this ridiculous tournament. (Unless the suitor is already chosen, and the tournament is just for show. Juliet would not put that past Queen Viviane, either.) Either way, Juliet is going to do what she can to stop it. "...I need to go there myself. I need to make sure she's all right. Especially now that Flynn is missing."

 

[starboob]

Willow trains her gaze on the grass underfoot as they walk, arm in arm, listening to each detail that Juliet provides regarding this king. (Kings, kings, kings. Why is it always kings?) Her brow pinches together, the image of King Cayman becoming less clear in her mind the more rumors that are added to an already mysterious figure. The only solid thing for her to latch onto is this mysterious island he comes from and a path through Wonderland; as well as the king’s disturbing knack for transformation and apparent invincibility. (Juliet mentions nothing of poison, she notes. Though Willow can’t imagine that no one has tried to poison him before if others have gone to great lengths to cut him down. She’ll keep it in mind, but she’s also wondering about the stretch of his abilities. She wonders if he could reform if his body were cut into pieces and quickly scattered across Folklore. It’s macabre, she knows, but she’s heard stories of other evils that were defeated in similar ways. Still wigs her out that that means they’re still lurking in the shadows, waiting for someone to stumble upon their remains and free them. It’s really only hope and faith keeping them caged. Even so, it's something.) She has to wonder whether or not King Cayman has truly found an answer to his mortal affliction or if it only appears this way on the surface.

Outside of elves, some lineages of fae, and the actual divine she knows that immortality is not something that occurs naturally for others. And, technically, elves and fae are only functionally immortal. They can still be killed and succumb to certain illnesses, but unless those conditions are met they will live on for as long as they please. Already, her grandma Elva is over two hundred years old and still kicking. (And she’s been able to use her thread to carry her other grandma for one hundred and fifty of those years.) The only person she knows who once sought out immortality would be her mentor, Carmilla le Roux. However, her search came with devastating consequences for herself and the rest of the world. She uses her story as a cautionary tale for other voracious knowledge seekers. (Willow considers reaching out to her professor for clues. She is myriads of years old and might know something of this wicked magic.)

This all leaves the sorceress with more questions than answers and through all of this chatter, Willow decides to close herself off to the noise. She thought it might be helpful to know as much as possible about King Cayman to help her figure out how this man’s magic works, but seeing that everything about him is shrouded in shadows, she understands now that mystery may as well be one of his talents for all the good it does her in figuring this out. She shakes her head. She needs to focus on facts and, until she has those, she cannot give any ounce of her belief to his air of mystery. ‘He’s a stranger. He’s evil. He’s got powerful magic. That’s it.’ She’ll need to assess him for herself.

It is a small comfort to know that Queen Viviane, despite the cold stare in all her portraits, is not so cold hearted that she would let Princess Elise become trapped by King Cayman. Willow doesn’t trust the queen, but this at least indicates that even she has her limits. (Of course, this king being a usurper and not a legitimate royal may be her only motivation for keeping her daughter from his monstrous claws. Who knows who the queen will try to pair her daughter with through the tournament. So far, Willow does not have faith that there might be a good royal for Elise and, even if there were, it should be Elise’s choice whether she wants to break tradition or not. Flynn’s disappearance… Willow doesn’t like that.) If all these royals insist on playing in the shadows, then Willow will be the light.

Willow doesn’t say much after Juliet finishes, her features set in pensive concentration as they enter Esmeray’s home. Echo excitedly greets them and asks if they have time to play and while Willow would ordinarily make that time, she informs the little one that she has to do some work first. This naturally disappoints the child (and seeing those big sad blue eyes of hers almost breaks Willow), but Lucky swoops from the sorceress’s shoulders and starts chasing Echo around the house. Her fit of giggles soon fill the home and Willow gestures Juliet back to their room.

She doesn’t explain at first, her mind racing faster than her mouth can move, but she sets out all the supplies they gathered and purchased earlier. While she wants to start the brew for their talismans, she decides that ought to wait and instead takes care of enchanting the leather pouch she purchased. She opens the pouch as wide as it will go, places one of her mirror plates within the pouch and wills the piece to liquify. With a stirring motion of her finger, she makes sure the inside is completely coated (she even asks Juliet if she sees any missing spots), then casts the expanding rune over it. Lastly, she sets the bag on the windowsill so that it will cure under the stars tonight, ensuring the bag will become as expansive as her dad’s colorblock hiking pack. Once finished, she finally starts talking. “I need to write to Sawyer about this and I don’t want to leave out any details. Will you help me?”

The two heroines settle next to each other, detailing the events of the previous night— including what they remember of Sabrina’s hymn— how they were yoinked back to Folklore after getting pushed into Mirror Lake by a mysterious entity, presumably summoned by Jovi and Lucky. She also details everything about Princess Callisto and King Cayman, making sure to include as many details about the mysterious island and the connection to Wonderland. She specifically asks the wizard if she’ll check out Area 13 in Somewhere, as Willow’s almost certain she remembers hearing that the now closed and upside down facility had once been used for the purpose of artificially creating a gateway to Folklore. If memory serves, the experiment was deemed a failure and whatever gateway they did open, landed them somewhere that did not resemble what any scholar knew of Folklore. However, based on Juliet’s earlier description, she believes Area 13 might have a gateway directly into Wonderland. Whether or not this will be helpful, she doesn't know, but the connection strikes her as worth noting.

Once the letter is sent, they find Esmeray and Calli in the garden and inform them that they plan to leave tomorrow at first light. They also explain that they believe they have some leads on how to help the princess, but they need to make it back to Amoria before the tournament can proceed. They promise to return and, hopefully, with more answers.

Afterwards, they go off to find Lucky and Echo and catch them near one of the neighbors’ houses. They’re playing some form of hide and go seek and Willow decides to join in. (Lucky cheats several times by camouflaging their scales.) Hide and go seek then morphs into a vicious game of tag, that turns into knights and thieves, that turns into WrestleMania, that turns into catching singing bugs and competing to see whose bug sings the prettiest. By the time the stars are shining, Echo is nearly tuckered out but stubbornly insists she could stay up all night.

She sleepily points out all the stars she knows, her favorite constellations, and then asks the heroines about their birthdays. Echo giggles about their star signs, but before she can say anything, Esmeray calls them in for supper. Throughout the dinner, Echo continues to talk about everything and nothing, driving most of their conversation. Esmeray remains rather quiet and Willow guesses her mind still might be on their conversation from the morning. During their dinner, Willow manages to block Juliet from stealing the untouched food from her plate, teasingly locking their forks together before relenting. (She doesn’t really mind this habit of the archer’s. She just couldn’t resist thwarting what Juliet probably thought was a sneaky attempt. And it was, but Willow has learned much during their travels together and she’s learned to spot when the archer is about to go in for the steal.)

Though it’s not particularly late, everyone in the home decides to turn in early. Well, everyone except for Echo, who insists they should stay up all night, despite her drooping eyelids. She ends up falling asleep not even five minutes later, with her dessert spoon in hand. It’s adorable.

There are no stories before bed tonight. Willow’s mind is too preoccupied with everything going on, the enormity of their situation, and the belief that they can handle this. Even if they don’t yet know how. Sleep comes for her quickly and her dreams are a bloody landscape, full of slit throats and stabbed hearts. She watches men the size of boulders crumble and whither into nothing. She feels their strength leaving them and finding a new home in herself. She watches cities burn, smoke filling up her lungs—

She wakes in a cold sweat to Lucky hovering over her. The dragon rests their head on her chest and, after a few minutes, she goes back to sleep for another hour. When she wakes again, she wakes with Juliet, and the pair wordlessly begin to tidy up the room and pack away their things. Though there isn’t the time for Willow to finish setting up her new leather pouch (i.e., designing the interior like a warehouse storage facility), she magics her few belongings into it then casts a final enchantment to reduce its weight.

The heroines creep through the house, careful to not disturb anyone, but find that Esmeray is already up and Echo, attuned to being left out, deliriously stumbles out of her room with a blanket around her shoulders. Their goodbye is quick and Esmeray sends them off with some supplies— homemade jams, some dried fruits, cured meats, as well as some first aid tinctures and balms. She also gives them what appears to be a shining diamond on a silver chain, explaining that it will help them pass through the village's defenses upon their return.

As they mount Lucky, Esmeray also looks to Willow and informs her, in elvish, that she is still contemplating her decision. She then wishes the heroines safe travels and Lucky launches into the sky soon after, their scales matching the twilight hour, as they head for Amoria.

 

[ellarose]

It takes an entire day's trip to make it from Celestine to Amoria by flight. They soar over the dismal landscape of the kingdom of Arcadia, devastated by King Cayman's attack. Then they pass over mountains and the various tiny villages and homes that dot it, cross over the sea, and then finally reach the vast wood that surrounds Amoria. While they periodically find safe places to stop and allow Lucky breaks to rest, there's an unspoken consensus among the three of them not to needlessly waste time. The dragon is just as antsy as they are and determined that they make it into the kingdom by nightfall. Juliet holds her arms tightly around Willow's waist whenever the wind picks up, they make a sharp turn, or whenever her head throbs. (She's warm. She's... holding onto her for practical reasons, though. Perfectly practical reasons.)

There are still a few sights along the way that manage to draw Willow James's wide-eyed wonder along the way, however-- like the forest of giant rainbow tulips, which make any who enter feel fairy-small in comparison. Juliet also points out Winter Wonderland, which she clarifies isn't the same as Wonderland-Wonderland. It's a rather friendly section of the otherwise dangerous wood, bordering the Trinket kingdom. The land of the sentient toys. (A whimsical dreamland to some and an eerie nightmare to others.) The creepier toys usually gravitate to Paper Doll Grove, which rests just beyond it. It's definitely haunted. Millicent often claims that this section of the wood serves as inspiration for many of her crafts. Juliet, meanwhile, traveled there once and promptly decided never again. Never. Again.

Winter Wonderland is blanketed in soft snow and elegant trees bejeweled with tear shaped beads of ice that glitter like diamonds in the sunlight. Quaint snow-capped fairy homes are nestled in the highest branches. They decide to make a brief stop here to rest, snapping up some peppermint bark for a snack. Lucky rolls around in the snow, lounging contentedly in the cool comfort of the ice while Juliet and Willow sit on a fallen log and nibble at their snack. While they do this, they watch the winter fairies that skate and dance over the frosted lake nearby. (They begin competing with each other, performing more and more elaborate stunts when they realize they have an audience to impress.) As they close their routine a thunderous applause erupts at the other side of the lake, drawing all of their attention to a fluffy white yeti that had been camouflaged into the snow the whole time. The fairies giggle and bow at the yeti's praise. One of them suggests that they have their afternoon tea together and the yeti accepts with a polite bow, plodding off with the fairies hovering around it. From afar, Juliet can hear them gossiping about the klonk-klunks and their recent thefts. However, now isn't the time to get wrapped up in all their drama. They have enough to deal with as it is.

Sentient snowmen initiate a snowball fight with them soon afterwards. Juliet and Willow exchange a glance at this, coming to the decision that they best train and stretch their legs while they're there and engage in a short battle. (...It's a perfectly practical decision, as it allows Lucky more time to rest before they overexert themselves. It also gives them a very brief respite from worrying over the dangers they're approaching in Amoria. Fretting does very little-- they've taken care of all the preparations they could the day before... now it's just a matter of getting there to straightforwardly confront their problems.) The snowmen are experienced foes, but the two heroines fare well against them. In the end, there is no clear winner. Once they've finished and the dragon has properly rested, they take to the skies once more to resume their journey.

"Oh..." Juliet squints when she notices a patch of trees overtaken with oversized brambles and an ominous, purplish fog. "That's... the place where we first met." The gateway. It seems that vines are criss-crossing over it, blocking the entrance. She shakes her head to draw herself out of a trance and pulls out her map, scribbling a note of it. "Hm. It'll be dark soon, so we shouldn't stop now."

Soon enough they're passing over the Crystal Lake, Riddle Vales, the twinkling pixies groves and the Forgotten Falls. By the time they approach Amoria, the sky has swapped their soft dawn shades for deep, purplish blacks of dusk. Juliet instructs Lucky to take them to Cornelia street so they can rest in the August household for the night.

"Princess Elise's tower will be heavily guarded." Juliet explains her reasoning as to why they're not seeing the princess first and foremost. "We'll request a formal audience with her at the castle in the morning, go through the proper means first. Try to avoid trouble. While we're there we can inspect the area and find a way to sneak in if necessary." She says this as they sneak in through her bedroom balcony, once again avoiding the front door. "The tower is... tricky. It's enchanted, often changing it's location and shape."

Plus, they need their sleep after an eventful day of traveling. Especially Lucky. Juliet's room is as pristine and untouched as it was when they first visited, fragrant with hints of rose. After pulling her combat boots off and setting them by the balcony door, she realizes that her bedroom door has been left open. Two wizened yellowish green eyes gleam in the dark, peering inside the room from the hallway. A sand cat darts inside, approaching Juliet to sniff at her heels before peering up cautiously at Willow and Lucky.

"Missus Diana!" Angelica's voice rings down the hall, followed by the sound of her footsteps. "Checking Juliet's room again, are you? Well, I highly doubt she'll be the--" Juliet sighs internally. (No avoiding it this time.) The maid appears in the doorway and jumps upon seeing the group gathered there, stumbling backward with a scream of pure terror. Realizing it's just Juliet, she promptly leans over and whacks a hand over her chest multiple times in attempt to slow her racing heart.

"Gosh all firelocks!" Angelica swears, smoothing a hand through her graying hair. (Juliet bites into her grin, holding in a mischievous laugh. Angelica has always been much too easy to startle. Admittedly, many of her childhood antics involved testing just how high she could make her jump.) "Fiddlesticks. Lady Juliet! You've given me quite a fright." She tsks her tongue and brings her hands to her hips. "Goodness. In case no one's told you lately, you are always welcome to use the front door. This is your home."

"Apologies, Angelica." Juliet responds breezily, shrugging her shoulders. "I prefer the scenic route."

"The scenic route... oh, pish posh." Angelica shakes her head, dismissing her excuse without missing a beat. "You are avoiding your mother. But you needn't fret. She isn't here at present."

"Oh?" Juliet glances at Diana, her mother's companion. The sand cat has since moved from her side to hide under the bed, where she keeps low to the ground and studies Lucky.

"She's visiting Lavender Coast, organizing a search to find her missing daughter." Angelica raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms. Juliet bites her lip and averts her gaze. Mother has an image to maintain. "Oh, Lady Juliet. She could hardly sleep at night, she's been so worried about you. Just like all those years ago... you should really stay for dinner one night. Or at least talk to her." The maid then drops the subject, knowing better than to dig any deeper into the past, and shifts her attention over to Willow and Lucky. "Ah. And you must be the heroine from the other side! Willow James, yes? I'm Angelica Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you." Then she elbows Juliet in the side and winks. "Look at you, sneaking such a lovely young lady into your room in the middle of the night!"

Juliet turns bright red and fights the urge to cover her face with her hands.

"Jokes aside, Lady Juliet has been traveling all by her lonesome for quite some time now. It's been such a relief to us all, hearing she now has a companion. While she likes to pretend otherwise, even she requires some looking after every now and again." Angelica nods sagely. Then she tugs at one of Juliet's red waves, inspecting the tangles in her hair as she purses her lips. She picks like a mother hen. "When she was a little girl she used to fear the wardrobe right there would gobble her up!" She nudges Juliet again, chuckling heartily. "Speaking of companions... where is Miss Grace? And where in blazes did you two disappear to, anyhow?"

Eventually they leave Juliet's room, descending the elegant bifurcated staircase down into the entranceway of the August's luxurious home. The white tiled floors are polished so finely they can practically see their reflections in them and each shelf is arranged just-so with tomes, flower vases, and a few of her father's gizmos and inventions. (Telescopes, eyeglasses and whatnot.) The most eye catching thing may be centerpiece of the entranceway, which is a regal lion statue built in the likeness of her father's companion.

They step into the red-carpeted parlor where they have tea and field most of Angelica's questions regarding their disappearance, Evermore and their mission thus far. (Juliet mentions nothing of their plans regarding Princess Elise. It isn't that she distrusts Angelica-- but she doesn't want the maid to let anything slip to her mother and by extension, Queen Viviane. It's best that they keep everything regarding the royals to themselves.) Eventually the conversation turns to Angelica sharing (unnecessary) stories about Juliet using her dolls for target practice, the way she would find slugs in the garden and hide them around the house to play 'treasure hunt', and then proceeds to show off a few small portraits of a younger Juliet in her dance attire as she speaks fondly of her time on stage and her rivalry with Lavinia Laurence.

...This, naturally, reminds Juliet that they'll soon need to visit the Laurences. The prospect quickly exhausts her.

"We should go to bed now. We'll need our rest for tomorrow." Juliet stands, smoothing out her skirts with an air of finality.

"Of course, of course." Angelica nods, standing as well as she collects the tray of tea. "Would you like me to prepare a guest room for you, Miss Willow?"

"No, it's fine. She can stay in my room." Juliet says. Angelica raises her brows. "...The bed is large enough for both of us." It is a big bed, after all. And besides that, they've been sharing a room and space since they started traveling together. But the maid's brows only raise higher. The archer blushes for the umpteenth time that evening, belatedly realizing where her thoughts must be going. "W-we may have some business to discuss further. That's all." She inches backward and then rushes out, deciding she's said enough.

Angelica chuckles again, watching Juliet scurry off. Then she turns to Willow. "I must admit, it makes me happy to see the two of you getting along. Lady Juliet's had a rough go of it these last few years." She clucks her tongue sympathetically. "Go on and rest-- you've had a long day. Do you need anything before you turn in for the evening?"

 

[starboob]

Willow’s head hits the pillow and she’s out like a light. After such an eventful day— a day that started even before sunrise— she doesn’t have much will to keep her eyes open or even tease Juliet some more about sharing a bed together. (Admittedly, the brow raising comments had embarrassed Willow just as much as they had Juliet, but Juliet’s reaction was far more amusing since she can school everything from her expression except for her blush. And her blush only seems brighter with how it matches her fiery tresses.)

While sleep comes quickly, it doesn’t pass quickly. Through her dreams, it’s as though she ages several more weeks with the rapid fire scenes that seem to blend and swirl together like the contents of a soup. (Mmm, soup.) Flashes of her own mom play through her mind first. Maybe it’s because the archer’s mother had been a brief topic of conversation— something that surprised Willow, if only because she hadn’t really thought of Juliet having a mother despite knowing she must. She half believed they both might know what it’s like to be motherless. Regardless of why her brain conjured scenes of herself and her mom picking daisies to make crowns, tears streak her cheeks as she sleeps. Though the scene takes a dramatic turn, from a sunny day to a dark storm that quite literally yanks her mom away, leaving Willow alone on a scorched battlefield. The skies are bleeding while the world burns. On the horizon, she can make out a small cargo plane in the distance. With a single step, she crosses the field and arrives at the plane. At first it appears abandoned, but a man with a thick black beard and a flight jacket she’d recognize anywhere appears from nowhere, shepherding shell-shocked women and children onto his plane. The man appears human while those he’s leading are a mix of elves, fae, satyrs and centaurs.

The man turns to Willow (?), his likeness to her father so startling that she steps backwards immediately. Or she would, if that were what happened back then. She’s rooted in place as her triple great grandfather meets her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“My mind is made.” Willow (?) says, waving the man off. “And my place is here. Take them to the crescent coast. There’s a house there that will protect them, hidden from malevolent powers.”

A red-eyed dragon screeches above them, bathing the world in fire. As flames encircle Willow, she’s back at the Whispering Waterfalls, falling from the guardian’s grip. However, rather than fall onto Lucky’s back, the wind sweeps her up and carries her off. As it pulls her away from the Whispering Waterfalls, she ends up surrounded by dark clouds laced with lightning, surrounded by thunderclaps. A bolt of lightning strikes her forehead and her mind fills with the image of a bleeding willow tree.

Willow bolts upright, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as she feels around the bed to check her surroundings. She touches her fingertips to her forehead, feels around her chest, checks for her legs, then flops back down, one arm laid across her eyes. When sleep refuses to return, she removes her arm and realizes that it’s already morning, soft gray light filtering in from the balcony. With a sigh, she looks beside her and is surprised to see the archer still there, rising with her. She offers a sleepy smile, still not quite ready to leave the warmth of the bed. Lucky even moves to rest on top of the sorceress’s chest to keep her in place.

After about five minutes, she gently removes the dragon from her chest (Lucky trills in a displeased manner, but is snooing again after five seconds) and slips out of the bed. The heroines get ready in relative silence. Willow asks Juliet if she has to wear a dress to the palace, scrunching her nose. (It’s not that she’s entirely against dresses, but the styles popular in Amoria are not for Willow James. She prefers sundresses that go above her knees, something she knows would probably have ‘the ton’ whispering about her promiscuity. Which is amusing considering the fact that Willow James is Willow James.) Regardless of the answer, she still chooses to dress in her elven garb. Though today she wears the light blue long sleeve, then pairs it with her flight jacket and her adventurin’ boots. (The knee high boots were nice, but she felt a little sweaty removing them and, like wearing knee high socks and taking them off, she felt the overwhelming desire to scratch at her legs like a dog with fleas.) She shrinks the shawl wrap down and lays it over her neck just to have in case the season changes. (She isn’t clear if Amoria seasons are more constant or if it’s all of Folklore that experiences these rapid changes.) Believing she’s being slick, she coolly asks Juliet to help put her hair into twin viking braids. Once finished, she offers to return the favor.

With the (real adult) Augusts out, breakfast is quiet. (Diana lingers and continues to observe Lucky who, naturally, believes this means that Diana is searching for a new friend and happily chases the sand cat around the dining room.) The entire time, Willow’s eyes travel around the room, taking in all the details of the home as she had last night, amazed by the exuberance. It reminds her of the Charming Street mansions— each one old, magnificent, and full of more riches than she could ever hope to see in her life. (She still remembers stepping into Kinsley’s home the first time and gawking at the Monet casually on display in the foyer. Don’t even get her started on the Birdsong estate— a museum of pop culture relics and an architectural masterpiece itself.) She’s tempted to ask Juliet how her parents built their fortune, but decides against it. She doesn’t really get the sense that Juliet wants to talk about her parents (given that she’s avoided them by sneaking in through the balcony) and, to be honest, Willow understands.

Though both heroines are antsy to check-in on the princess, they decide against taking Lucky or Willow’s ‘flying plank’ and walk to the palace. It’s best for them to keep a low profile, especially with the swarm of royals coming from across the kingdoms who might already be around for the tournament. Lucky even shrinks themself down smaller than they would ordinarily. Indecisively, they switch between the heroines’ shoulders, each time blending their scales to match the color of their clothing.

When they make eyes on the palace, Willow audibly groans. “Stairs.” And just before those stairs are a row of guards, their backs stiff and straight, far more alert than they had been when Willow practically crashed into them trying to stop her hoverboard (not flying plank). At first, they block the heroines’ entrance but recognition soon crosses them thanks to Juliet's signature red hair— apologies, questions, and other nonsense quickly spill from their lips. As Flynn had offered their first night together, one offers to take them to see Ambrose and Juliet coolly brushes him off in a similar manner as she had that first night.

As they ascend the dreaded steps, Willow pleases herself noticing that they don’t wind her nearly as much as they had just over a month ago. Remembering the color-changing roses that lined the steps, she sways to the side to tap one and is surprised when the rose, rather than changing colors, morphs into a thorn that shoots out and almost stabs her finger. She jerks her finger back in time, exchanging a glance with Juliet, immediately reminded of Dorothea. One of the guards who lines the steps grimaces and quietly mentions that some of the rose bushes have been growing hostile since Everson’s disappearance. The heroines exchange another glance and continue up the steps.

This time around, Willow doesn’t spend nearly as much time marveling at the palace. Her gaze is (mostly) focused, memorizing where certain statues and paintings are displayed to help understand the layout of the palace. It’s strange, but even these decorations seem as tense as the guards. ‘Is this the effect of the queen’s presence? Or everything that’s happened since the princess made her announcement?’ She figures it might be both. It’s also probable King Cayman’s eventual arrival has added a certain tension to the air.

Juliet leads them through several different hallways to find Ambrose to request an audience with Princess Elise. The queen’s hand (or whatever he is, Willow doesn’t know) at first just stares at Juliet and Willow, as if he’s looking at a pair of ghosts. Juliet has to repeat the request before Ambrose agrees, sending them off to the tower’s (current) location with a member of the royal guard to chaperone the visit. ‘Ugh. We don’t need a nanny.’

The guard remains stone-faced and unreadable, leaving Willow with little sense of whether he might be a chill guard or a more serious one. She guesses he’s probably serious since he has a higher rank. In any case, she supposes they shouldn’t risk saying anything of note in front of Princess Elise. (At least nothing obvious.) As easy as it would be to erase or manipulate his memories, Willow won’t be reckless or careless. The guard is just doing his job. She probably shouldn’t risk using her magic anyway if she wants to maintain the element of surprise. Still, they need some sort of read on him to figure out how crafty they'll need to be.

“Do you think a tournament will actually reveal a real man to take care of the princess?” Willow asks, staring hard at the man's shiny back. (“You know, the rules of reflective surfaces and whatnot.”) With this in mind, she clears her throat, thinking about her words carefully in case someone does appear in that reflective surface. “I mean, tournaments seem kind of fake to me. Like, how often is it even, that, in the heat of battle, men are going to have structured fights and arenas? Really just seems like a sword swinging contest between pretty boys if you ask me.” She punctuates this remark with a crude hand gesture— something that looks quite out of place coming from Willow James. "I'm genuinely curious if these tournaments have ever had a real man as a champion. Whatever that means. We don't have stuff like this in Evermore."

 

[ellarose]

"Queen Viviane wisely decided the princess should have the opportunity to assess the skill and conduct of her suitors in a way she would not be able to otherwise at a ball. Not only is it meant to reveal their capability in battle, but also their character as they respond to the crowd, their wins, and their losses." The guard still indicates none of his feelings on the matter, supplying an answer that must have been widespread amongst the staff at the castle. Framing this tournament as an opportunity instead of acknowledging the shackles locked around the princess's wrists. "This also allows her the opportunity to personally meet more of her suitors. There are many she has only ever interacted with through written correspondence." He shrugs his armored shoulders. "Either way, it was not my decision to make. Guards such as myself will not be competing. We are here to protect the Cendrillons and our kingdom. It is not our place to involve ourselves in the princess's personal affairs." Despite the once-neutral tone of his voice, disdain slips through the cracks. Disdain for Flynn, and perhaps...

Eyes downcast, Juliet walks silently behind the guard. With his helmet on, she can't quite tell which one this is. The sound of his voice, however, has her walking and even breathing cautiously-- as though she's sneaking by a sleeping monster's den. ('That bruise...' 'I am fine, Lady Juliet. It was just an accident during training.') She tries to distract herself by studying their surroundings (in case they decide to sneak in again later) and tugs her red hood tighter around her shoulders.

"In Folklore, it's important to know one's place. Isn't that right, Lady Juliet?" The guard continues smoothly, conversationally. She stiffens. Damn it. "Those who don't follow their intended narrative in this world become cautionary tales for us all. After all, look at what happened to Rio... and now Flynn." (Rio, Rio, Rio. The name sends an arrow through her heart.) "That said, I hope you haven't come here with the intention of putting any more of your ideas in the princess's head." He shakes his head, saying the word 'ideas' as if it is inconceivable to him that a woman could have ideas to begin with.

"Yes, you're right." Juliet snips. "In that you've no place discussing our personal affairs."

***​

Eventually the reach the sequestered stone tower. It's framed by a waterfall pond that sparkles through mountainous rocks and concealed with grand giants of trees, their whimsical gold-brown branches adorned with springtime blossoms and ripe fruits. Notably, there is no door and the only window is twenty ells over their heads and enclosed with diamond-shaped iron bars. (The gaps in the diamonds leave her room to sneak only a finger-- maybe two-- outside of the tower. No amount of flowers or silky pink curtains can hide the fact that she's a prisoner here.) While it looks secluded, Juliet is sure to give Willow gentle nudges to direct her attention towards the other guards present, discreetly stationed in hiding among the trees and greenery.

The guard escorting them pulls out an unremarkable silver key. In proximity to the tower, it glows softly and a thread of light shoots out from the tip, stenciling a keyhole in the tower wall. When he turns the key inside, the stones around the area click and clack as they part to open a doorway leading inside. Within is a dark passage lit only by torch flames along the walls, illuminating none other than a spiral staircase (...yes, more stairs) winding upward. When they've scaled the stairs halfway there is another door and yet another key is needed to open it. (This one is bronze.) After this there are even more stairs that twist and turn in mysterious ways as they scale them. Then at long last they reach the final door at the very top of the tower. The guard produces another key, gold this time, to unlock it. But before he does, he rings the bell outside to alert the princess inside.

"Princess Elise. You have two visitors." The guard announces. "...The heroines." Much like the concept of women having ideas, he sounds perplexed that the word 'heroine' exists in their world at all as he says it like he's saying it for the very first time. "May we enter?"

"Of course. Send them in." Princess Elise accepts. Then she adds something more, a touch hurriedly. "...Oh. But not you, Sir Tristan." Before the guard can argue this request, she continues. "Because I am in the bath at present." While Juliet cannot see the guard's face, she can imagine it turning bright red. (...Clever. It makes sense, she supposes. Princess Elise has plenty of free time to orchestrate how to secure some precious private moments for herself, locked up this way.) With the princess already announcing her intentions to wed a guard, it makes sense why they would need to tread carefully around the princess. "Please heed my request and wait outside the door."

There is little the guard can say to challenge the princess's request. Juliet and Willow are allowed inside, through the heavy door that emits an eerie groan as it swings open, while he takes his post outside. Princess Elise's room tucked at the top of the tower is rather confined, not at all spacious. (While the furniture is all finely made, it's clear that this room is designed for punishment.) A single-sized bed rests in the corner and a desk with a lantern and a tower of books stacked atop it. The subjects range from court manners and needle point to accounting and battlefield medicine. There's a small tray set upon the windowsill for Princess Elise to have her meals on... the absence of a table, chairs, or even a second tray being an indicator that she has not been permitted to dine with anyone since her imprisonment. (Queen Viviane has always been strict in regards to the princess befriending the castle staff.) Most notably, there are no mirrors to be found within the tower. It leaves the princess with no means of escape-- not to the other side or anywhere else.

In the back of the tower room is a nook where her washroom area is-- including a clawfoot tub, where the princess currently sits among clouds of fragrant bubbles. Her pink mermaid tail hangs out, dangling over the ledge.

"Mother said I should take up a project to keep myself occupied." The princess speaks softly when she hears the door close behind them, holding out the needle point she's currently working on in the bath. The stitching on the canvas says 'Elise Everson', the name written as clearly as the sadness welling in her big blue eyes. "I highly doubt that this is what she had in mind."

***​

"I see." Princess Elise stares down at the sunlight on the floor, streaming in diamond shaped patterns through the bars over her tower's windows. She's dried off now and sitting on the bed in a comfortable nightdress. ("I have nowhere to go, anyhow." She said, wearing her ever present smile. Her demeanor is perfect as always... Juliet knows the rigorous training she's endured to keep it that way. She knows she must be unbelievably tired beneath that mask.) They've just given the short version of their story since they saw her last-- their travels to Okeanos, their dealings with her family and their drama there, their unexpected visit to Evermore, leading all the way up to their return. "...So there's been no sign of Flynn?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Juliet bites her lip reluctantly. "We've only just recently learned of his disappearance ourselves."

"Mother's been telling me he ran away. That he's a coward." Princess Elise shakes her head incredulously, her brow furrowing in a rare display of distress. "But I know he wouldn't have run. He wouldn't have left me. Not without a single word... or without good reason." Not without good reason. The princess looks as though she wants to say something more on the topic-- but notes that Juliet isn't looking her in the eye and ultimately decides against it. The topic she decides to bring up instead isn't much better, though. "He braved the wood to find you when you went missing from the catacombs, Juliet. It was dangerous... but he found you and brought you home safely."

"...I know." Juliet says stiffly, quietly. (Excluding the very important fact that she did not want to be found. Did not want to be brought back to life in Amoria. But Flynn 'rescued' her anyway. Though to be fair, the state he found her in was...) The princess just wants the confirmation that Flynn Everson is indeed the brave man she remembers and loves. Not the sort who would leave. And... truth be told, Juliet doesn't think that he is. (But people are full of surprises.) "He wouldn't run." That's what the princess wants right now. What she needs. That reassurance. "We'll let you know if we hear anything about his whereabouts."

"I won't lose faith in our love." Princess Elise cups her hands over her heart, where her thread must be. (The thought of following it to find him must have crossed her mind already.) "It might be foolish of me... but I still want to make this work." She sighs softly. "How is the question, isn't it? How do I make this work when I've so little say in what happens to me?"

Peaches, Elise's companion, floats across the room in her magicked bubble and lands comfortingly on her shoulder. The princess pats it gently, peering at her reflection in the bubble's surface before turning to Willow.

"You mentioned the possibility of traveling to Evermore, yes? I will consider it, should things get any worse. Although I would require a proper mirror in order to meet the conditions you spoke of." Princess Elise lowers her voice to a whisper, knowing well that Tristan is still posted outside of the door. "Do you think there's even the slightest possibility that Flynn could have crossed over to Evermore as well? He disappeared around the same time you two did. So I thought, maybe... is there a way to tell?"

 

[starboob]

Since stepping foot inside of the princess’s room prison cell, Willow has remained quiet. Though what’s more suspicious is that she has avoided looking at Princess Elise for more than a handful of seconds at a time. While this could be chalked up to her inspection of the room— letting no nook or cranny escape her careful eye— the worry etched into her brow suggests her mind might be Elsewhere.

The stark parallels between the princess and Dorothea are unmissable and she cannot help that she’s thinking of her old friend and wondering if she’s safe. Wondering if Jovi is still safe. Wondering how Griffith and Sabrina are reacting to being thwarted. And, once again, wondering if Dorothea is safe. It’s a small grace that both women still seem to have their spark— whether it’s Elise’s belief in her love or Dorothea’s quiet rebellions, neither suggest that their spirits have been totally defeated. Still, it’s not enough to ease Willow’s worries. She won’t be comforted until both women are safe, until both of them have their freedom, their voice back.

(“This has to end, Willow. I . . . Don’t anchor yourself to a gone girl.”)

Willow shuts her eyes tightly in a fruitless attempt to push aside her worries. The skies even seem darker, matching the storm child's mood. ‘I need to get back to Evermore.’ As much as she wants to stay and be of some help, she’s fulfilled her promise to Juliet and, by extension, Grace. The archer has safely arrived in Amoria and what happens from here is up to the fates. Willow cannot be everywhere all at once. Painful as it is to accept that, her loved ones on the other side need her and Juliet will take care of those she has come to love in Folklore. She has full faith in that.

Except, there still is the glaring issue of even finding a gateway. The one she first stumbled through is apparently engulfed in funky purple mist that screams danger. (Mist is never a good sign.) With this in mind, Willow turns, finally, and shakes her head. “No, I don’t believe he has. The gateways are far and few between as it is in Evermore.” Even prior to getting horrendously lost in the woods, the five possible gateway locations she had managed to find had all been total duds— they were either spewing haywire sparks of magic, destroyed entirely, or dead. She only crossed over because she got lucky. As in, Lucky found a gate and got her to chase them through it. (Speaking of the dragon, they are currently hovering close to Peaches’s bubble, looking at her curiously. Willow can already tell that they want a magic bubble of their own.) “The one closest to Amoria also looks super shady.” She pauses a moment, then clarifies. “It looks sketchy.” Nope, that might be worse. “Uh, dubious? Unreliable? Suspicious.”

“But I guess it’s possible he could have crossed over before it got that way.” She taps her chin, then rocks her head back and forth. It’s not like she actually knows when that funky mist appeared. But guessing about where he is or isn’t will only get them nowhere. The realms are too big for guesswork and Flynn’s sudden disappearance certainly can’t afford tireless guessing. “Either way, it’s not like there’s an actual way to figure out where he is.”

This isn’t true and Willow isn’t speaking to the princess. She’s speaking to the door, to the bootlicker standing guard outside. So despite her words, she settles on the desk chair and pulls off her mirrorball keychain, tapping one of the panels to stretch it out before Princess Elise.

While her blue eyes widen in shock, likely because Willow’s still in the magic closet, she doesn’t show any visible sign of suspicion. If anything, Elise just takes another glimpse of Willow, barely even narrowing her eyes in scrutiny, and simply accepts that the other champion of love is a caster. Then, when realization hits her that Willow is about to show her something and needs a cover, she sighs solemnly, loud enough for Sir Keister Kisser to hear. “Ah, I understand, Willow James. I do hope Flynn is alright. He is strong and brave, but knowing not a drop of his whereabouts is utterly wretched.” She touches her hand to her chest once more, staring at nothing and yet Willow knows exactly what she’s staring at. (At least she’s tied to someone she loves. Not that that changes that she’ll soon be chained to someone who treats her like an object. A prize. A token or chip to be used in other people’s games.) “But I shan’t give up hope.”

“And you shan’tn’t— shouldn’t.” Ugh, Folklorians and their weird way of talking. “Like Juliet said, we’ll keep an eye out. We are the prophesied heroes of love.” She forgoes the gender indicator specifically to irritate Sir Dunderbucket outside. (Seriously, what is his deal? He makes it seem like the tournament gives Elise some semblance of choice when she’s already made her choice. Just not her mother’s choice.) “Here, let’s play a game to take your mind off of Everson.”

“It’s a silent game.” She goes through the process of explaining the rules to ‘dots and boxes,’ adding in her made up rule that they can’t talk. Willow then casts a glyph over the door to keep the rest of their conversation hidden from the guard outside. A nearly invisible veil covers the door, leaving the effect that it’s behind a mirage. She slumps against the chair and releases the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay, we’re good now. I can probably help you find Flynn.”

The princess’s eyes glimmer, she clasps her hands over her chest and, while she hasn’t let her smile falter once since they entered the tower (just like Dorothea), it tugs her lips in a more genuine way this time. It causes Willow to smile in return, before she points to the floating mirror in front of Elise. “By using a mirror, I think we’ll be able to find his location. I’ll need your help since I've only met him once and won't be able to locate him properly.”

“Of course. What might be required of me?”

“It’s simple.” Willow explains the rules of her mirror and how it can be used to see into other locations. Generally, she’d need another reflective surface on Flynn’s end to provide a feed to her own mirror— something she isn’t sure they can guarantee, given the unknown state he’s in— but with Elise’s thread, she believes they can bypass that requirement entirely. (It’s similar to the method herself and Milfred used to locate and summon Juliet back to the lab. Though Willow doesn’t mention this. She also doesn't mention the possibility of summoning him, as her earlier tests on this tower confirmed that it prevents users from teleporting or even opening up portals to the outside. She still thinks a swap between Elise and Dorothea is possible, however, considering the logic that they'll be in parallel locations.) Willow bites her lip, mirroring Juliet’s signature look of uncertainty or thought, and finally looks at the princess fully. “Your thread… it’s still intact, yeah?”

Elise nods, clutching her fist over her chest as if to shield the string that connects her to Flynn. (Willow can’t imagine Dorothea ever feeling so strongly towards Griffith. She can’t imagine for a second that she’d be sad if her thread to him were severed.)

“Okay, concentrate on it. Then concentrate on Flynn, everything that makes him him.”

Again, she nods, fluttering her eyes closed. Elise’s features pucker while Willow casts a glyph over the mirror. Glowing threads then manifest and dive into the mirror, creating ripples against the surface like water bugs skittering across a pond, then shoot back out towards Elise. The reflection still only shows her. However, when a solemn tear streaks down Elise’s cheek, escaping her shut eye, and falling directly over her heart, a zing of lightning jumps from her chest to the mirror. The reflection begins to morph into a dark swirl. Soon, the entire mirror is black and, ever so faintly, indistinct shouts echo from within.

Willow looks between the princess and the mirror, eyes narrowing to slits as she peers into the surface. She reaches out to place a hand on Elise’s shoulder, but pulls back when she notices the inky surface parting like a curtain. Though it doesn’t improve the image much. Wherever Flynn is, it's dark and the last reaches of light only reveal a vague silhouette.

From within the mirror, sharp snaps beat the air and send chills down Willow’s spine, wincing at the familiar and unmistakable sound of leather breaking into someone’s skin. There's a sudden inhale and the release of a labored sigh. In the background, hammers clink and slam against rocks while another snap breaks over the person’s skin. Just barely, the whites of their eyes shine in the low light.

A figure steps into view, carrying a lantern, and a soft orange light shines over a man, slouched against a post. His head is bowed and his wrists are bound against the post, holding up his arm. This new figure grabs a fistful of the man’s hair and yanks his head back, revealing a swollen unrecognizable face. The light also reveals the ugly face of a lilac troll with two huge tusks sticking out from his underbite. He gestures to some unseen person, scoffing. “Look at this soft son of Amoria. We ought to eat him already.”

“You dolt!” A bluish arm smacks the troll within frame upside his head. “This fool is the key to getting out of these mountains.” The lilac troll scratches the top of his bald head, squinting over Flynn’s brutalized features, appraising him and obviously failing to see his value.

“Pray to the gods they improve your wit, because your looks certainly are already damned.” The other figure continues. “He needs to be alive if we’re to bargain with Princess Elise once she becomes queen. With luck, the fates shall soon take care of Vi—”

The connection severs the same moment that a choked sob comes from Elise. Her eyes are two salt water pools, her hands held to her mouth as she barely restrains herself from shaking. Willow exchanges a glance with Juliet, thousands of thoughts spinning through her mind at once, but her primary concern is the princess. (While she knows what she’d do if this were Dorothea, she doesn’t want to treat Elise with that same familiarity when she hasn’t earned it for herself.) She can’t just do nothing, though she still hesitates.

Helplessly, Princess Elise looks to Juliet. “F-Flynn— Jules, wh-” She isn’t able to finish whatever it is she might’ve said as another round of sobs overtake her. All she can do is throw herself at the archer, burying her face into her shoulder.

 

[ellarose]

Juliet stiffens instinctually when the princess throws her arms around her. While her own arms remain at her sides, she is firm and composed on the surface-- like a pillar there to keep her steady as she presses her weight against her. She's familiar. Warm and fragrant, smelling like a blooming garden after her rose petal bath. Queen Viviane had supported their friendship, even when several of the other nobles tried to persuade her to 'cast the riffraff aside'... but there are many lines that even Juliet is not allowed to cross with the princess. This is one of them.

'You're dear to her, Juliet. Just as your mother was dear to me.' To be eleven years old and called into the throne room for an official audience with the queen herself had been terrifying. Queen Viviane spoke softly to her, never once raising her voice in hostility... but it did little to ease the edges of her nerves, which were as pointy as the tips of the ornate trident hanging on the wall. In fact, every sharp surface sparkled under the chandelier like threats hanging all around her in broad daylight. The guards stationed at the doors with their intimidating armor and swords. The shape of the queen's diadem. The edges of the throne itself. Juliet's hands and pockets were empty of anything to defend herself with. As a child who had seen things a child should never see, her imagination ran rampant. She felt they could cut her down at any moment without consequence and make her disappear. (That wasn't true. But it was how she felt at the time as an unwanted, abandoned child... looked at like the dirt under their fine shoes.) It took all the courage she could scrape together to stand as tall as she did in that moment, keeping her chin up without trembling or crying. 'For that reason I do not wish to remove you from her life. All I ask is that you keep her at a distance. For her sake and your own.'

The queen is not present currently to see this moment... but even behind closed doors, her secrets are rarely ever safe. It's the moment Juliet believes she can let her guard down that someone pounces on her from the shadows. 'I do not wish to remove you from her life.' (But she would if she must. The implication had been clear.) Is the queen responsible for making Flynn disappear the same way?

Perhaps not. The mountains surrounding them, the talk of blackmail... Queen Viviane would have orchestrated something much cleaner than that. Something that holds no such consequence for Princess Elise in the long term. (There's no denying that they spoke about the fates taking care of her as well. Hm.) The initial reason for Flynn Everson leaving Amoria, though? Juliet still cannot discount that possibility, knowing what she knows. Having been through what she's been through. For all she knows, he could have been knocked out in the dead of night and left deep in the wood... abandoned there and left to die.

"You're right." Princess Elise sniffles, although Juliet has said nothing yet. "I mustn't lose my composure now." She takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Holds. Releases. "Panicking will do nothing to help Flynn." The princess tames her emotions gracefully, having had years of practice, and pulls away from the archer. Her shoulders are squared and tense as she stares down at the mirror. The only sign that she's distressed now are the tell-tale streaks on her reddened cheeks and the way her arms are wound tightly around her center.

"...I suppose mother was right. Wasn't she?" With light footsteps, the princess paces her small tower room before stopping to peer outside the window through the bars. The light there casts strange shapes over her. "I will endanger everyone I love. I should have learnt that lesson a long time ago. But... I still wished to hope that... that love would find a way." She swallows, her throat squeezing around another cry she's trying to hold down. "First it was father... then you, Jules... and all the lady's maids mother replaced or sent away." She shakes her head. "Now Flynn."

'Mother was right.' There's something about all of this that Juliet is reluctant to trust, though she doesn't speak on it right away. This is a favorable outcome for Queen Viviane, isn't it? If Princess Elise's spirits are broken right before the tournament... she's much more likely to comply.

"What happened to me wasn't your fault." Juliet supplies matter-of-factly, steeling her mind against the memories that threaten to creep in. As much as she doesn't want to talk about it-- especially not in front of Willow-- it was unrelated. "This will not help Flynn, either."

"Lavinia would not have been so cruel to you had I not been so obvious in favoring you. I know that now." Princess Elise shakes her head. "I wish I had realized sooner."

"Lavinia being Lavinia is Lavinia's fault." Juliet rolls her eyes. (Truthfully, though, she had always wondered whether or not Princess Elise noticed.) Still. To take the blame for everything Lavinia did? No. Princess Elise had no hostile intentions, even if her carelessness with her affections did have some consequences. Lavinia Laurence would have looked down on her without the princess's favor.

"She excluded you... and that left Sefarina de Winter an opening to get close to you." Princess Elise breaches the topic in the gentlest tone of voice, but Juliet flinches anyway. It crosses over her features with the subtlest twitch, completely missable if those around her aren't paying enough attention. (...But Juliet notices it all the same, internally kicking herself for it.) She stares at the floor blankly. Sefarina. "But it's more than just that."

"...Princess, this is irrelevant." Juliet tries to speak calmly, but the cautious edge in her tone is detectable. While her insides are all stirred up, the perpetual headache she's been coping with throbs with a vengeance. Sweat trickles imperceptibly at her brow.

"Please, Juliet. Allow me to apologize to you, in case I do not get another chance. It's been weighing on me. It will weigh on me long after you leave. I've... little else to do here but think. I--" Princess Elise continues. Juliet can empathize, being left to her thoughts one too many times in captivity. However...

"The Midnight Mountains." Juliet interrupts with the information she knows will convince the princess to stop. She doesn't want to hear this. Not now. (...Perhaps not ever.) And especially not here, not in front of Willow. "Flynn is being held in the Midnight Mountains."

"...What?" Elise blinks, perplexed and distracted enough by the notion that she drops the subject.

"Think about it." Juliet nods, certain of her assessment. "The darkness, the hammering, the starry texture of the dirt." She pauses, appraising the princess's expression. "And their jewelry. They were wearing varieties of moonstone, selenite and lapis lazuli. They're common and sacred crystals in the area." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "They also mentioned escaping the mountains. If you consider that..."

"Ah. I see." Princess Elise's eyes light up with recognition. She strides across the room and pulls a book from her desk, quickly flipping through until she finds the section she's been searching for. The princess holds the book at an angle to allow Willow to see the painting of the mountains and charcoal drawings of the trolls. "Trolls caught stealing or killing in the west kingdoms are bound to the the Midnight Mountains for hundreds... sometimes thousands of years." She squints at the passage on the page. "So they would have me negotiate with King Aurum to set them free in exchange for Flynn." She sighs, clearly overwhelmed by this prospect, and sways on her feet for a moment before perching back down on the bed with the tome in her lap. "I could only think of the pain he was in... I did not notice any of those details..." She shakes her head. "I suppose that's why you're a heroine of love, Juliet. You are so knowledgable about the outside world." She turns to Willow. "And you, too, Willow. You were able to show me a glimpse of him. And now... at... at least I know he is still out there somewhere."

Princess Elise inhales a breath so sharp that Juliet tenses in sympathy. (The mirror... Juliet wonders if it could have once shown her Lara, or... no. She cannot think about what might have been, had she possessed the means to find all those who have left her behind.) She wonders briefly if Elise might have been better off had she not seen what she just saw. But then again... she knows from experience that not knowing these things leaves a void behind. There's no closure, no reassurances. Only questions without answers.

"But to know that he is suffering... and he is in so much pain... because of me..." The princess presses her hands over her heart, protectively over the place where her thread would be.

"The engagement announcement that night..." Juliet begins with the intention of stopping the princess's downward spiral. "Did Flynn agree to it?"

"...Yes. We discussed it at length. We both believe true love will make our kingdom stronger." Princess Elise sets the book aside, clenching her hands to fists in her lap. "More sacrifices have been made in the name of power than love... and now Folklore has become corrupt with it. I believe that is why so many have had their threads severed and why the Lightless cases have been spreading so rapidly." She shakes her head somberly. "Many say I am being selfish for listening to my heart. That I am putting my own happiness above the kingdom. But that isn't true."

"Then he must have understood the risks as well. He will not blame you for this." Juliet nods. "However, I think he would blame you if you gave up."

***​

The three of them proceed to cover various other topics with the time they have left-- such as the timeline of the upcoming tournament and the thirty princes (and king) who will soon be arriving in Amoria to compete for Princess Elise's hand. (The tournament itself will not be held for another three weeks or so, to allow time for those from distant kingdoms to travel. With the increase of Lightless cases, their parties all need protective escorts to journey there safely.) This a tournament designed to see which prince would be the most equipped to protect the princess... and yet they're still being cautious. The recent afflictions involving Prince Zander and King Cedrick have made the royals especially weary. (Juliet mentions that if any kingdoms bordering the Midnight Mountains are in need of protection, she could search the area for Flynn under the guise of journeying there as an escort.) Once that's sorted, the guard at the door begins calling in to them-- persuading them to finish up.

"...I have one final request. Take Peaches with you." Princess Elise nods at her companion, gently patting her bubble to say goodbye. The axolotl nuzzles against her and then silently flits from her shoulder to Juliet's. (...Her proximity causes her headache to ease significantly.) "She can heal Flynn... should you find him. And she may know where Oberon is, too." The princess continues, clarifying for Willow. "Flynn's companion. A brown bear. He may be able to help you find him... oh, I do hope he is safe and sound, the poor dear."

***​

It's well past noon by the time they leave Princess Elise's tower. After nervously attempting to explain the 'silent game' they'd been playing to the guard, the two heroines make their way back to the August household. Angelica brings in a tray of tea sandwiches and they spread themselves out in the sitting room. Juliet opens a map and marking down notes about the tournament, the Midnight Mountains and Flynn. Once that's finished, she excuses herself briefly-- to speak privately to Angelica and also retrieving something from her father's study.

"...The Laurence family has requested our presence for dinner this evening. Word of our arrival has been circulating." Juliet sighs, informing Willow of Angelica's news. Then she reaches in her pocket for a rolled up map and a ruby colored hag stone, setting them down on the table in front of them. "However, you need not accompany me if you don't want to." (She wouldn't blame her at all.) "Especially if you would prefer to search for a gateway home instead." She hesitates and then takes the stone into her hand, peering through the hole in it. "...This stone may help you find one. It's enhanced. One of my father's inventions." She angles it towards the map, watching as gold orbs like fireflies hover over different locations. "If you use it with this map, it will reveal which locations are currently brimming with magic."

Juliet hands the stone to Willow. "You can make note of any place that looks promising. However, you ought to wait before you venture out too far to search for one. I can accompany you if you find any points of interest in the wood. There's no way to be certain that you're going to find a gateway, either. The signal could be coming from another caster... or something else." She nods. "Just be careful."

 

[starboob]

Willow makes sure to leave Elise with a duplicated piece of her mirrorball, “in case of an emergency.” She explains that the piece won’t be able to handle more than ten spells before disintegrating, being that it’s a duplication, but isn’t able to offer more beyond that. The princess, at least, seems familiar with magic mirrors that there isn’t a hint of question on her features regarding what she’d even do with it. (Were there the time, Willow would have taught her some about rune casting, but Sir Fartselot had been getting impatient and she didn’t really feel like testing her luck.)

Back in the safety of the August home, she relaxes on one of the couches and munches on the finger sandwiches that Angelica brought to them. She holds the sandwich away from the map Juliet has provided and uses the hag stone to view the magical energies in Folklore. (She notes that some of these locations overlap with the markers on the Saffron family map.) As Willow spies through the hag stone and making notes of possible locations that might be gateways, the mirrorball on her belt flashes. At first, Willow ignores it, believing it’s just the way the sun is reflecting off of it, but when she hears it cough, she jumps, dropping the hag stone. She fumbles around her belt, worrying that one of the beaded animals might have animated (the chances of that actually happening are around negative seven million), but when she hears the second cough coming from the mirrorball, she notices that one of the panels is actually flashing like a strobe light. ‘What the…’ She looks up at Juliet, exchanging a wary glance, before she taps the panel and stretches it out revealing…

Sawyer, of course. Sawyer dressed as a posh cowboy (for lack of a better description), flashing a flashlight. However, when she sees Willow, she tosses the flashlight to the side, grinning from ear to ear. The weirdo tilts from side to side, ignoring Willow’s flummoxed expression, and frowns. “Oh, is Juliet with the arms not with you?”

“Soy!” Sawyer looks at her insistently, clearly not going to let this go until Willow gives her a direct answer. The temptation to make herself invisible is strong, but Sawyer has already embarrassed her like this in the past. Juliet already knows that she’s accidentally written of her arms and shared it with someone else. (Which really? How can she even be blamed for that? At the time of writing, she had just finished a lengthy training session with Juliet where Juliet held her multiple times.) Still, that doesn't mean she wants Juliet to be reminded of this.

“Yes,” Willow groans, dragging her hands down her face before she waves Juliet over so that she’s within frame. Sawyer perks upon seeing the archer and Willow can imagine that if she were sporting her tail (and she sometimes does), it would be wagging. “She’s here. What’s up? How did you even find us?”

“Mi—eye. My.” Sawyer clears her throat, her entire face going red, not that Willow entirely understands why. “My parallel twin reminded me of the joy of reflection and I remembered your keychain. You are very easy to find, Willikers.” Sawyer ignores the clear alarm on Willow’s face and continues prattling on merrily. “Anyway what is up is the ceiling, I believe. I haven’t checked. Why do you ask? Do you need it?”

Willow bores holes into Sawyer through the mirror.

“Okay, okay. So touchy, yeesh.” She holds her hands up in surrendering, puckering her lips and narrowing her eyes. She taps on her chin a few times, then twirls her finger into the air, like she’s finally remembered why she called. “Right! Dorothea Birdsong is safe. She left for You York not long after you and Juliet with the arms,” “Sawyer!” “arrived back in Folklore. The Cash Gala is this weekend, so it was the perfect cover for her to leave Elsewhere. With the elections coming up, her creepazoid fiancé hasn’t followed.”

“Okay, well, that’s good, I suppose.” Her shoulders drop, the tension easing from them knowing that Dorothea isn’t in Elsewhere anymore, though she still has some of her worries. Like worries about Jovi. Sabrina. Griffith, when he eventually does get ahold of her. “Hey, do you know how I can get back to Evermore?”

“Only you and the be-armed woman beside you know the answer to that. The supernal eater of souls and I are quite jelly. That means ‘jealous,’” Sawyer clarifies for Juliet. “Anyway, there’s no rush to get back either. My twin and I have been brain-hurricaning and we believe the rituals that you described are based on planetary positions and cycles. The new moon was needed for the ritual at the temple of Fearless. We suspect the next opening could be in two weeks, aligning with Mercury’s Gatorade as it passes through the tenth house. Most likely, at the temple of belief and reputation in You York. Either way, there’s time!”

“What do you mean there’s time? That’s two weeks!” And the tournament is in three weeks. The next new moon in four weeks… She really just needs to find a gateway. Just for the peace of mind of being back in Evermore.

“William, have you not figured out that you’re weaving? Albeit literally which is rather redonk and inefficient. Going back and forth between the realms? Just make sure to jump into the proper wrinkle next time.”

“Humphrey.”

“'A Wrinkle in Time?' No? It’s a classic, Willow, and a blueprint. Just like the time warp.”

Willow can only curl her lip in response. Sawyer has explained weaving to her several times and not once has she ever been able to wrap her head around it. (She once even tried to explain time like a big bowl of chili. Though Willow’s still convinced that lesson had been a sly way for her to share the Higgins’ award winning chili recipe. …It was good.)

Anyway, noting that Willow is clearly dubious of everything that she’s saying, Sawyer rolls her eyes. “I swear it’s like you expect everything I say to be nonsense when you, yourself, are full of none sense left beef.”

“What?”

“Ah, damn. Never mind.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. She shifts quickly, however, with sparks lighting up her blue-green gaze this time. “Ah! But that is not even the exciting news! There have also been a string of murders across Evermore and those couples you asked me to track? All hospitalized with sudden void disease. That's not the official diagnosis. I just made that up, but one woman has two blackholes for eyes now. Fascinating stuff. Imagine the snacks you could keep there! Speaking of snack storage,” she looks at Juliet gravely, “Protect your pastry pocket.”

“Wait, Soy, go back—”

“Any who, I must go. FredrickEnstein needs me.” The weirdo excuses herself without explaining further (Willow wouldn’t have expected her to) and disappears from frame. However, before the signal cuts out, they both can hear the sound of crashing, grunts, and, “Not the ‘not bees!’ We’ve been over this, Fe.”

The piece of mirror shrinks back down and attaches itself to the appropriate keychain. For a long moment Willow just sinks deeper into her seat, at a complete loss of how to even process anything that Sawyer has just said. She tries to hold onto the fact that Dorothea is safe. Jovi is safe (for now). Though the murders are definitely a concern, on top of the couples who are experiencing symptoms of sudden void disease. (Remembering Dorothea’s hollow eyes, she has inkling what’s happening.) Finally, she looks over at Juliet, her green eyes softening. At least, with that time wrinkle business, this means she doesn’t need to be so rushed to find another gateway. (If she can even figure out how to control when she ends up, not just where.) “Well, I’ll stay until Gracie gets back. She’d want that and, in the meantime, we can search some of the locations between here and the Midnight Mountains.”

She holds up the map to Juliet and shows her the locations that look promising. She also notes the few large conglomerates of energy that appear to be traveling from the various kingdoms towards Amoria. (The dot coming from Scarwood is particularly ominous.) Then the two discuss preparations for the evening, both women openly roll their eyes. Though Willow admits, “I think I prefer Lavinia to Kinsley.” That isn’t to say she’d ever willingly put herself in a position where she’s stuck with either woman, but the distance she has from Lavinia makes her easier to deal with than Kinsley, who will never fail to mention those rumors from freshman year. (Who will never fail to tease Meredith for her horns and tail.)

Willow debates whether or not to change, considering they will be visiting the Laurences, and decides she doesn’t care enough about conforming to an expectation. Still, the thought of having to deal with potential sneers does grate against her. ‘I should start brainstorming comebacks. Just gotta channel my inner-Meredith.’ She glances over at Juliet. ‘Or Juliet. She’s funny.’

It turns out that the Augusts live on the same street as the Laurences— reminding Willow, once again, that Juliet comes from Amoria’s version of Charming Street. (Idly she wonders if Juliet’s parallel lives on Charming Street, causing her to also wonder about her own in Folklore.) The walk should only take five minutes and that’s if they walk slow, which they do if only to savor the last few moments of peace they’ll have for the next few hours.

‘Juliet totally gave me an out. Why am I here?’ But one look at Juliet and she has her answer. She doesn’t want to leave her alone to spar against the Loserences. Even if Willow doesn’t think she’ll snip back, moral support can be just as important as other forms of support. She’s pretty sure.

The Laurence residence is more or less what Willow expects and that still doesn’t stop her from staring at it, wide-eye, mouth agape. It’s a large rectangular home built out of tan stone. The first thing that draws the eye is the second story balcony situated over the triple archway entrance. The balcony has a triangle rooftop held up by four columns with ornate designs at the capital, making it appear like feathers are peeling away from the tops. The facade of the house has five tall glass block windows, with three along the balcony.

The entrance to the home spills out into a green garden with a perfectly trimmed lawn, carefully sculpted hedges, and marble fountain sitting on either side of the walkway. Three swans are bathing together in one of the fountains and, upon the heroines setting foot on the property, their long necks snap over to look at the intruders. One squawks in a particularly menacing way. Willow huddles closer to Juliet; though she’s careful about touching her, this time, having noticed her stiff reaction to Elise earlier and recalling how stiff she’d been when she embraced her back at the lab. "Are those geese? Geese are the worst."

Lucky growls, their spikes prickling.

There's another hostile squawk. Swans and dragons alike are flapping their wings before one swan suddenly launches from the fountain and charges the group.

 

[ellarose]

Naturally, the strawberry thieving swan targets Juliet's pastry pocket. (Just as Sawyer prophesied.)

While Juliet's reflexes have her move instantly to protect it, the cream puff she'd pilfered from the recent batch Angelica made is crushed regardless. The inside of her pocket is undoubtedly a sticky, creamy mess... but the archer is less worried about that than she is about the fact that she will not be able to eat it to soothe her nerves with something sweet before this meeting she's been dreading. Fucking bird. The other swans, while they're notably unfriendly, hold back on expressing themselves in such an outrageous manner as they gracefully fluff their feathers and swim elegantly across the fountain. While it's hard to tell them all apart (just like keeping track of the names of all the Laurence family members with their fascination for the letter 'L') Juliet knows the one who attacked her is Elsa. Lavinia Laurence's swan. At least Gracie will be spared from this absolute nightmare. Shy as her fox is, the companions have a rivalry of their own.

"Lavinia. Control Elsa." Lydia Laurence's sonorous voice cracks across the yard like a weapon, whip-sharp. Juliet's attention is drawn to the entrance, where the double doors have swung open. Ah. The maid must have noticed and fetched her mistress. All the warm rage in her freezes to ice that trickles down her spine. (Lavinia Laurence's mother has always been worse than Lavinia herself. She follows where her mother leads with her rumors and close-minded mentality. Juliet knows, having overheard one too many conversations-- arguments-- in the August's sitting room between Lydia and her mother.) "And apologize to our guests for her unsightly behavior."

"Yes, mother." Lavinia responds dutifully, leaving her mother no reason to believe she'd rather stick her own foot in her mouth than apologize to Juliet. It's not until she approaches them across the courtyard, with her back to the woman, that her lips twist. "Willow James." She dips in a short curtsey, eyes discreetly flicking over her outfit head to foot to assess it. The judgement towards her decision to wear trousers is evident, but she says nothing to indicate what she's thinking as she turns to do the same for Juliet. "Juliet." She smiles sweetly as she says her name through clenched teeth. (Her jaw is so tense that Juliet's surprised they don't shatter.) Lavinia straightens herself out to her full height, fluffing her gloved hands over her silken green skirts in a way that matches the swans fluffing their feathers. "I apologize for Elsa's behavior."

The swan preens her feathers, recognizing the sound of her name, and struts towards Lavinia. She affectionately strokes the back of her companion's long neck as if to praise her for her actions instead.

Behind them, the other two swans are ushered inside by the maid. They walk in perfect synch with one another, composed in a graceful harmony that Elsa is excluded from. (On their way in, the maid ties fancy bows with pearls and lace around their necks for dinner and pats them dry with a towel so they don't ruin the precious carpets. Juliet can hardly contain her snort at the pretentiousness of it all.) "Join them, Elsa." The swan leans her neck menacingly towards Lucky and squawks, as if to pettily have the last word, before flying off to do as she's told. "Now, come. We've been expecting you for quite some time now."

Lucinda Laurence, the eldest Laurence sister, promptly greets them after the maid at the door. She practically floats down the grand staircase in a rich maroon dress, carrying herself with all the elegance of a sugar plum fairy. (Her skin is notably pale, though, and no amount of face powder can disguise the dark rings forming beneath her deep brown eyes.) She possesses a modest and gentle demeanor when compared side by side with her mother and sister. In Juliet's experience, she has always been kind, having acted as her mentor at the opera house for a short period of time. (And...) "I must extend my deepest thanks to the two of you for accepting our invitation." Perfectly poised, she sinks into a lower and far more polite curtsey than the one Lavinia extended to them. From behind them, Lydia's eyes shine with unmistakable pride. Lavinia twists a loose ringlet from her extravagant up-do around her finger and straightens her own posture next to her. "My beloved is not the only one to suffer this ghastly affliction. I understand what a privilege it is to have you here." The swan wearing a maroon bow that matches her dress settles down at her skirts. Lydia sets her hand down on Lucinda's shoulder, as if to console her.

My beloved. Lucinda plays her part so well. Gerard Stanley is the sort of man to stagger from a tavern reeking of alcohol, with two women hanging off his arms the evening after his engagement party. (Juliet knows because that's exactly what he had been doing the night she targeted him.)

"Welcome. I am Lydia Laurence. These are my daughters. Lucinda," Lydia gestures her arm from Lucinda to Lavinia, "I believe you've already been acquainted with Lavinia. There is also my youngest..." The woman looks to the top of the stairs, clicking her tongue impatiently. "Where is--"

Lydia Laurence is interrupted by an obnoxious quack. Quack, quack. A mallard with a vibrant green head waddles down the staircase. Instead of a bow, they wear a lopsided top hat... and they're followed closely behind by the youngest Laurence sister. Lucinda winces. Lydia and Lavinia pucker their lips with disapproval.

"Good evening!" Nora Laurence toasts a champagne glass at the top of the stairs with the vibrancy and character of a ringmaster. While her features resemble her mother and sisters almost exactly, she wears a midnight black dress that contrasts the vibrant colors they're sporting. She hikes up her skirts, practically bouncing down them in her haste, and drops into a haphazard curtsey in front of Willow. "You must be Willow James! Oh, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm Nora. How do you do?" She grins lopsidedly, her almond eyes bright. "I love your trousers. That style... did you get them from one of the elven villages?" Then she turns her attention to the archer. "Hello, Jules. Nice to see you again."

Juliet bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing. Of all the Laurences, Nora is perhaps the most tolerable. She stands out among her picture perfect family as much as her wild duck companion does among the swans and their pretty bows.

Lydia Laurence confiscates the champagne glass, plucking it from her teenage daughter's hand and giving it to a maid who hurries off to dispose of it. "Lenora." She snaps her hand against the small of her daughter's back, getting her to straighten her posture. "Please conduct yourself like a lady. We have guests." She sighs, glimpsing her black dress.

"I wished to wear green, mother. But apparently..." Nora begins conspiratorially, cutting her eyes across the room at her sister. "Lavinia owns the color green now. So I was not permitted to."

"Oh, for goodness sake. Wear the green." Lydia Laurence insists. Lavinia opens her mouth, as if to protest this, and then quickly closes it again.

"Mother, I am quite comfortable in th--"

"Wear the green." Lydia repeats herself with the insistent wave of her hand. Nora sneaks Juliet and Willow a comically exasperated expression before sweeping back up the stairway to change. (Juliet silently wonders just how much champagne she's had to drink in preparation for the evening. She wonders where she found it... if she knows where she can get some for herself.) "Please forgive my younger daughters. These are trying times and still they insist on behaving like urchins."

Juliet can tell Lavinia's silently fuming over the way her mother uses the plural, grouping her with Nora. Daughters. Including her.

"...I suppose it's infectious." Lydia glances somewhat accusingly at Juliet, who squares her shoulders and keeps her chin raised in silent defiance. (The woman has made her feel small and worthless on numerous occasions. But now she possesses the cure she so badly needs to secure her eldest daughter's marriage... she really shouldn't speak so carelessly.)

"Mother. Perhaps you should accompany Lenora upstairs? She seemed rather flushed." Lucinda gently interjects before the conversation can escalate. "I will escort our guests to the parlor."

"Of course, darling." Lydia Laurence takes her daughter's advice, so arrogant that she's oblivious of the blatant attempt to get rid of her.

Once Lenora and Lydia have disappeared upstairs, Lucinda and Lavinia are left to lead Juliet and Willow into the family parlor. It's a larger space than the August's sitting room, full of wide windows that allow lots of natural light to flow inside. The most notable feature of the room are the paintings on the wall-- Lydia as a young lady, Lucinda, and Nora in their ballet costumes. (...The only one excluded from the wall is Lavinia. Because Juliet had 'stolen' (earned) the starring role when it had been Lavinia's turn to do so.) Juliet doesn't feel the slightest bit sorry for Lavinia, after everything she's put her through. But she can understand where some of her spite comes from while peering into this room.

The Laurence family is exhausting.

"I must apologize. Mother insisted that you come for dinner, so that we might persuade you to heal Gerard first thing in the morning." Lucinda shakes her head, at a loss. "The Lightless cases have been spreading so rapidly... and we are taking up your valuable time. If there are those who require help more urgently, please prioritize them. We can wait."

Hm. Juliet's eyes narrow suspiciously while Lavinia's turn as big and wide as saucers.

"But Lucinda. The wedding..." Lavinia begins, incredulous. "The preparations. Think of everything mother has done!"

"The wedding can wait. We mustn't be greedy when our kingdom-- when all of Folklore-- is suffering." Lucinda twists a perfect ringlet around her finger. She's... nervous. Juliet would be as well, she supposes, if she were the one marrying the likes of Gerard. "There are those whose circumstances are more dire than Gerard's. Those who will need their help sooner."

"...Where is the Stanley family this evening?" Juliet changes the subject rather than answer right away.

"They haven't left their home in weeks. They're stricken with grief, Juliet." Lavinia says as if this must be obvious, pressing a hand over her heart. (Perhaps thinking herself ever so compassionate.) "Their only son has been afflicted with the sickness. His transformation took place a few days ago. It was right when you vanished, in fact, and it gave them such a fright. Where did you go? Were you wandering the woodlands again? Making friends with the squirrels?" She shakes her head. "The goats, perhaps?"

"I discovered the donuts." Juliet supplies with a shrug.

"The... the what?" Lavinia furrows her brow confusedly. Lucinda tilts her head, curious.

"The donuts." Juliet nods to Willow, a gleam of mischief flickering in her eyes. This dinner is a waste of their time, anyway-- strictly purposed for keeping up appearances, keeping the nobility of Amoria content and out of their business in the long run. Might as well have a little fun while they can. "They will be very helpful in our quest to save love. Right, Willow?"

 

[starboob]

Lavinia Laurence being a middle child makes so much sense to Willow James. It just explains a great deal about her, to the point where the sorceress feels she actually might understand her in a way she’ll never understand Kinsely. (Who doesn’t even have the excuse of being a middle child. Though she is an eldest daughter and Willow also once heard that the Parental Prescots weren’t around much. Not until her two younger sisters were born within a year of each other.) Even just observing the decor in the “parlor,” as these Folklorians call it, tells an entire tragic backstory of Lavinia. It’s a weak tragic backstory, granted, but Willow supposes there’s no competition in suffering. (Though she does wonder if Lavinia has the awareness to realize she makes her own life harder being Like This. She could learn something from Nora. Although, she figures that Nora definitely gets her fair share of earfuls. Seems she’s between a rock and a hard place until she can be independent. Not that Folklorians seem to realize that women can be independent and, if they are, they are royal exceptions. Yes, she’s throwing shade at a certain queen of Amoria.)

It’s hard to feel sympathetic for her, even with that said. She makes it hard by being Lavinia. (Juliet said it best earlier.) If Willow is going to offer sympathies to any of the Laurence women, it’s Nora and then Lucinda. (She wonders how similar they are to Kinsley’s sisters, Devon and Chandler. She also wonders about the similarities between Mrs. Prescot and Lady Laurence.) Nora has already worked her way into Willow good grace’s (not that that is particularly difficult) by complimenting her attire and talking about elves without a trace of disgust. (A pitifully low bar, she knows, but these nobles have taught her to expect the bare minimum from them.) Lucinda merely seems pleasant and respectful and that’s more than she can say for the tryhard, Lavinia, and her egoistic mother, Lydia.

But more than just being pleasant and respectful, her tired appearance, the hollow look of her eyes, causes her to feel for the woman, whatever it is that she’s going through. She also doesn’t think it’s necessarily out of courtesy that Lucinda is pushing them away from Gerard’s case. If the Lightless are anything like Brooks, anything like Trevor, anything like Cedrick, she can understand why she might not be pressed to see her "beloved" so soon. And she doesn’t think that Gerard is another fluke like Zander. If he were, she imagines Lucinda would be speaking to them with more gravity, like Queens Adelaide and Cleodora had. ‘Is the Lightless sickness as much a blessing as it is a curse?’ She’s beginning to think so. Now she’s curious about those Lightless fellows who Juliet cured before ever meeting Willow and what their former partners might think of them now, assuming they have reunited. But that will have to wait.

Juliet’s signaling to Willow and the sorceress’s eyes flicker with their own trace of amusement. It takes everything in her to bite her lip on her smile, the desire to laugh or lean against the archer almost overpowering her wits. ‘She really is funny.’ Instead, she tries to hide it by pursing her lips together and widening her eyes, as if the importance of "the donuts" is too great to be ignored.

“Oh, yes. The donuts,” Willow nods sagely, clasping her hands behind her back as she begins to pace the room. It’s mostly because she’s nervous, but at least one Laurence is leaning forward as a result of her pensive appearance. (Spoiler: It’s the one who has the name that could pass as a fancy soap brand.) “Tricky creatures, you know. They aren’t too dissimilar from pixies in appearance, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“My— this sounds entirely made up!” Lavinia loudly complains.

“You’d think, right?” She squeezes her own arm as her nerves spike, Lavinia’s careful scrutiny matching that of Kinsley’s— far too similar for comfort. She shakes her head to hide her tremor, chuckling nervously. “That’s just what Juliet and I thought and we came to regret that. We’d hate to see even the poorest of souls succumb to them,” she says this in a pointed manner, staring up at the imposing portrait of Lady Laurence. This gesture isn’t missed by either daughter, though it’s Lavinia whose mouth hangs open indignantly. Willow continues before she can actually get a word in, adopting her graduate student instructor voice. (It's a sprinkle of pretentious meets know-it-all.) “The donuts measure the wealth of one's character, you see. It’s why they’re known as the donuts. The do-nots.

“They speak in the language of morals. It’s not perceptible to the human ear.” Willow looks over at Juliet and nods. “It’s probably the only reason Juliet and I were able to get away before they could curse us with the permanent flavor of soap in our mouths.”

“These folk seem highly unhelpful if they’re trying to curse the heroines.” Lavinia’s tone nearly matches that of Sir Tristan when he spoke the word "heroine."

“Please, sister, remember your manners.” Lucinda places her hand on Lavinia’s arm, her eyes cutting to her sitting like blades. Though the look is sharp, it’s said with more exasperated annoyance than to be punishing. Lavinia purses her lips in a ladylike manner, but her brow twitches enough to show how she really feels about being scolded in front of company. (In front of Juliet August.) “It’s rude to interrupt. Do go on, Willow James.”

“Thank you, Lucinda.” She inclines her head and then returns to her pacing. “Now, where was I?”

“You were speaking of a soap curse?” This comes from Lucinda.

“Ah, yes! The dreaded lavender mouth curse.” At this point, Willow can feel herself running out of steam the more this lie stretches, but then she remembers what Sawyer said earlier. (“You, yourself, are full of none sense left beef.”) And she remembers how she captivated the guardian at the Whispering Waterfalls. And all the times she bought Meredith extra time to finish up her homework by using her Willow James earnest charm. ‘Right. None sense. Left beef.’ “Well, Juliet and I were disappeared to the land of the donuts— it’s where we have been for the last few days— and we really were trying to make it back to Amoria.” Technically, none of this is untrue when one squints their eyes to the point of closing them. “But the donuts found us before we could make our exit from their hidden territory—”

“And where is this territory exactly, hmm?”

“Lavinia. Willow, do finish your story.”

“Yes, Lavinia, if you could please hold your questions to the end, that would be great. As they say in Evermore, only clowns try to run before they can crawl.” Oh, if Willow James had a hidden camera on her, she would be using it right now to capture the look on Lavinia’s puckered face from all angles. She has to turn away, briefly, to keep her smile from showing. She clears her throat. “Anyway, the donuts found us and surrounded on all sides— everywhere we looked, were their tiny bodies and needle sharp teeth, smiling at us. We had no choice but to surrender and meet with their chief. Juliet,” Willow gestures to her companion, “was able to save our skins, being that she’s been at the forefront of all these Lightless cases— which are dreadfully troublesome to the donuts. If you recall, they're all about morals so the Lightless are almost like their natural enemies." She pauses and nudges Juliet's arm lightly. "Would you like to tell them the rest of the story, or should I?”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet continues and eventually concludes the story that Willow started-- describing their dangerous and high stakes escape from the donut lair like she would an adventure story around a campfire. (Not as eloquently as Willow James herself does, of course-- while the sorceress's words paint pictures when she tells a story, what Juliet does in comparison is the equivalent of bluntly overturning jars of paint and making a mess of her canvas. 'Their territory is like a labyrinth. We turned right, left, and then right again.' ) Specifically to get under Lavinia's skin, she also describes a battle with an unreasonable and violent donut that ended with donut guts spilling over her hands... she gets a bit carried away with this bit, in truth just imagining the strawberry jam buried in the center of one of the Wilco's donuts. Ah. Thoughts of Evermore's food-- and Evermore itself-- has a selfish part of her wishing she didn't have to come back to deal with the likes of the Laurences. (Of course she has her responsibilities. Of course she intends to see them to fruition. But she is hungry and she wishes her cream puff had not been squashed.)

"I must ask you to spare us the rest of the details, Juliet. That is positively vile." Lavinia's as pale as a ghost, her expression wrought with nausea. "Young ladies need not discuss such... violence. We shall also be dining soon. Our appetites will be ruined."

"Oh? But the donuts are quite delicious." Juliet notes, grinning openly at Lavinia's disgust. "We ate them. That is how we resolved the issue."

"You ate the donuts!?" Lavinia recoils, pressing a hand to her chest. Then, noting the archer's expression, she narrows her eyes. "...You are telling tales."

"Am I?" Juliet asks, her eyes gleaming wickedly as she hides her smile (and laughter) behind her hand.

Lydia and Nora Laurence join them, thus ending their donut conversation. Appetizers are served on silver trays. (An array of crackers and cheeses decorated with herbs, petit fours, and other strange looking finger foods that undoubtedly have fancy names. Juliet doesn't ask. She simply observes each one in her slow and methodical way-- almost like she's suspicious of them-- before defining them based on their tastes. Earthy, fishy, savory. It's food, therefore she appreciates it. Coming from the Laurence family, however, there's something pretentious about it. Which is to say that Juliet prefers donuts.) Nora steals the conversation, telling them a story about a drunkard she met in the marketplace who had infuriated her because he kept a duck on a leash. She describes arguing with this person over the proper way to treat a wild duck, causing a scene, and a horrified Lydia quickly puts an end to it. (She tries to recover, informing them that Nora has a creative imagination while insisting that her daughters 'do not converse with drunkards on the streets.') That's when she steers her youngest daughter to the piano to keep her silent, requesting she play 'something quaint' for them as they continue to talk.

The room fills with music. Nora manages to get her word in even behind the piano, because as the conversation shifts back to Gerard and his predicament the music coincidentally shifts to match the tone of their conversation. (The most comical and impressive instance of this, perhaps, is when Lydia overacts to sympathize with Gerard's plight and Nora starts playing Symphony No. 5.) They all have to stop and listen as Nora gets carried away. Her skill as a pianist is that impressive.. She's lost in the music, the swaying behind the piano as her fingers dance nimbly over the keys, filling the room with a composition encapsulating a narrative of the human struggle.

"The sound of fate knocking at the door." Nora supplies by means of explanation when she finishes. "I thought it was quite fitting. It sets the atmosphere of Gerard's plight, does it not?"

"...Lenora, please. You are making such a racket. I beg of you, play something quaint." Lydia massages her temples. Nora rolls her eyes behind her mother's back when she turns and proceeds to play 'something quaint'. This temporarily steers the conversation away from Gerard. All through dinner, the Laurence women end up discussing recent fashions in the dress shops as well as the tournament and visiting princes who intend to fight for Elise's hand. Juliet can hardly stop herself from rolling her eyes when Lavinia sighs over how 'romantic' it is and how a prince would suit the princess much better than a common palace guard.

Gerard isn't brought up again until their dinner finally nears its conclusion. They learn that the building constructed to shelter and monitor those with sickness symptoms has been finished. It's also purposed to keep newly formed Lightless from wandering off into the wood. Gerard is currently being sheltered in one of the holding cells there. (Evidently, only the wealthy can afford the cells provided thus far. Generally, though, victims of the Lightless curse tend to be exceptionally wealthy men. Men (and, on rarer occasions, women) who possess too much power.) Juliet knows there are others like her who can afflict anyone they wish to afflict with the sickness. It takes particularly dire circumstances for her to target someone who is not of noble birth.

“Your family received an invitation, so perhaps you already know this. But Gerard and Lucinda were to be wed in two days time. We would very much like for their wedding to proceed without delay. However…” However, Gerard has undergone a horrible transformation, turning him on the outside exactly the monster he is on the inside. Lydia Laurence doesn't supply this version of events. She refrains from speaking about the transformation in much detail at all. “You of all people must understand how Lucinda is feeling, Juliet, having lost your dear Brooks on your wedding day.”

Juliet silently agrees that she may understand how Lucinda is feeling. Just not for the reasons Lydia Laurence expects. Your dear Brooks. (Shut up, shut up, shut up!) She resists the temptation to strangle her fork-- or perhaps stab one of the tiny trees she's ignored on her plate. (Lavinia must have requested them specifically to spite her. She's even wearing green.) She sets the fork down and balls her hands up in her lap instead. Her headache knocks at the back of her head like all the memories threatening to break through her defenses. Lucinda masks it well enough, but she notices the way the other woman fidgets uncomfortably in her own seat.

"If you could prioritize Gerard and heal him before their wedding date, we will offer you a generous payment in return for your services." When Lydia smiles there's a sharpness to it. So, she... intends to bribe her. She must believe she's already won. Juliet glances discreetly at Lucinda again, bracing herself before turning her full attention back to Lydia.

"...I will not take your money, Lady Laurence." Juliet responds, flat and matter-of-fact. Lydia's smile collapses. "We'll monitor all of the Lightless gathered in the area before deciding who to heal first. They grow stronger depending on how long they've been afflicted... to the point that even those manmade constructs won't be able to hold them back. There's a possibility that someone else will be in dire need of treatment. Therefore I cannot make any promises." While she does wish to stall for Lucinda's sake, there's truth to her reasonings. It could pose a danger to the people stationed near this holding area if one or more of the Lightless ever managed to break out.

Juliet stiffens when Lydia Laurence excuses her daughters from the table, claiming this is business 'they need not hear'. Meaning... They hesitantly file out of the room. Once they're alone the woman drops what little remains of her mask.

"Would you have me grovel on my knees instead? Does it please you to turn me down, Juliet?" Lydia asks accusingly. "Your own wedding ended in flames and now it seems you're determined to drag my sweet Lucinda down with you. Perhaps you're jealous?" Not even slightly. Juliet stares at her hands, devoid of the spirit and energy she can so easily serve back to Lavinia. (Lydia Laurence has a way of making her feel as though she's still a child.) "You're going to regret this. Tch. I knew from the very beginning that you would bring nothing but trouble to Amoria. To simply appear from those woods the way you did..." Her ears burn bright red. She thinks of the rumors that Lavinia spread. The rumors she undoubtedly heard first from her mother. "The curse started with you. This is all your fault."

"Willow..." Juliet rises from her seat, refusing to engage with the woman. Although she feels a bit like it, she's not a child anymore. She doesn't have to sit there and take this. (It's nonsense. ...But some of it is true.) Either way, Lydia Laurence is not going to pressure her into doing exactly what she wants. "Let's go."

Lydia's glare shifts from Juliet to Willow. "...Before you depart, you should know that my offer still stands. If you fulfill my request, you may take the entirety of the reward for yourself."

 

[starboob]

“Oh, Mrs. Laurence,” Willow puts her hand over her chest in sympathy, while also expertly ignoring the twitch of Lady Laurence’s brow when she doesn’t use the proper title. “I know I may not look it based on what I’m wearing right now, but I come from a noble family back in Evermore. Money is not a priority for me.” Nothing Willow says is even untrue, either, but she doubts that Lady Laurence will suspect her meaning. Willow even points to the golden medal pinned to the flight jacket to corroborate her story when she recognizes the arch of the noblewoman's brow, obviously dubious of the claim. It’s not exactly akin to the August seal Juliet carries, and what she imagines other nobles have, but it’s clear it does the trick as Lady Laurence’s eyes flare in recognition. “See.” (Again, she doesn't think this is lying much either. Her triple great grandfather's service was noble.)

In any case, she’s not inclined to help the lady of the house when Juliet’s made her position clear. This isn’t to say that Willow will always follow where Juliet leads, she likes to think they are a team and will steer the course together, but with matters in Folklore, she intends to listen to the experts she trusts. More than that, Juliet’s not the only one who caught Lucinda’s discomfort. At least, Willow took her silence throughout the dinner to mean something. She’s firm in her belief that if the eldest Laurence sister wanted to be back with her betrothed, she wouldn’t be so ambivalent towards his affliction.

Lady Laurence opens her mouth to say something more and Willow holds up her hand in an uncharacteristic display of audacity. (She may have had a glass or two of the champagne served at dinner.) “If you would like to see the damage a nasty Lightless can do, Juliet and I have the scars to show.” This is obviously a half-truth, but Lady Laurence’s shriveled nose tells Willow her bluff hasn’t been called. “We have to be scrupulous in our efforts lest the cases get even worse than they already are. And I would sincerely hate to see Amoria suffer anymore than it already has by a Lightless breaking free.”

This ends the conversation immediately, not even Lady Laurence has the audacity to bat back against that. (Though Willow is also aware she might see it as beneath her to squash out her arguments.) Either way, the heroines manage to get the last word in and Lady Laurence summons her daughters to say goodbye. Willow throws up a peace sign as they make their exit, a gesture that visibly confuses the elder three Laurence women and fascinates the youngest.

The stars are twinkling brightly above them and Willow uses this as an excuse to take an even more leisurely pace as they drift back down Cornelia Street to the August household. With her eyes mostly focused on the sky, Juliet and Lucky both have to catch the sorceress before she trips over a loose or askew cobblestone. This causes her cheeks to flush. She asks Juliet about the constellations in Folklore, mostly quizzing her to see if any are the same as in Evermore. (Just how similar are their realms?)

While they both already know that Juliet’s parents are not present, they still sneak in through the garden gate, though Willow keeps them outside for a little while longer. The setting is just too romantic to resist and the way the starlight reflects in Juliet’s brown eyes is too dazzling for her to let go to waste. She has to bask in it and she makes up excuses to do so, continuing to ask Juliet about the things that are outside, like the rose bushes in the backyard, and insisting they inspect them up close even if they cannot see all that well in this light.

In the background, Angelica spies them both but doesn’t do or say anything to startle the heroines. She only makes her presence known when she observes that they are about to scale up the side of the house with a sharp (and coy), “Ahem! The door, Lady Juliet.” So at least the maid gets them to use the back entrance. However, before ascending those fancy Folklorian stairs, Angelica dips off to another area of the house and Willow points out that they missed dessert at the Laurence's with how things ended. This obviously leads them to raiding the kitchen and sneaking back upstairs. (This doubles as more stealth training.)

Once in Juliet’s bedroom, they lay out their spread of goods and debrief over the events of the evening. Not that there is much to discuss. The Laurence women spent most of their time talking fashion and gossip more than they did talk of anything of merit. (Yet they delivered the information with as much gravity as a preacher might.) Willow comments on Lucinda’s appearance and her insistence that they handle the most pressing cases first, sharing that she thinks something is fishy about that. (To which she then explains the idiomatic use of “fishy.”) This also brings them to the topic of the Lightless facility that has apparently been completed in their absence.

Willow finds it endlessly concerning that the nobles of Amoria have constructed a building to house Lightless. It seems not only arrogant, but foolish. (Of course, those two are common bedfellows in her experience.) Having run into a pack of thirteen Lightless on her third or fourth day in Folklore, she doesn’t think keeping them all in the same location is as wise as they think it might be. People could get hurt. This is something both heroines agree could turn into a “toasty toasty” situation if it’s not addressed. The only problem is how to address it, given the number of times they’ve been written off because they’re women. That’s something neither of them have an answer to, but they do agree to head to the facility first thing tomorrow. Well, first thing after brekkie.

It’s not long after their debrief that they go through their nightly routines— Willow organizing some notes and writing a brief message to the Rhode Island house— and settle into Juliet’s large bed. Lucky settles between the heroines, but seems to snuggle closer to Juliet. Peaches’s bubble also floats above the archer as she sleeps.

The morning goes without issue. They wake, Willow practices her duplications in the privacy of the bathroom, and they descend those fancy Folklorian stairs and are welcomed by the sweet and savory smells of a copious breakfast spread. They eat in relative silence and, once finished, Willow makes sure to wrap up a few treats in a napkin and carefully stores them in her pouch. She grins at Juliet. “Sawyer never said anything about my pastry pouch.” Teasingly, she adds, “Just try not to get sucked into my bag this time, okay?”

Ever dutiful, they inform Angelica that they are going out and aren’t sure when they’ll be back. Willow asks if she wants anything while they’re gone. This seems to perplex the older woman but she recovers quickly and politely declines. When they’re out of the house, Willow insists that they should get Angelica some flowers or something small that she’ll like, since she’s been so kind. (She gets that it’s literally Angelica’s job, but being a hero is also about having good manners and showing thanks! At least, to Willow James it means that.)

“Do you think there’s a way I can be more helpful with healing the Lightless?” Willow asks after about seven minutes of silence. “I know the Lightless are only one part of this problem and that I’m helping in other ways,” well, she hopes that she is, “but if there were a way for us… I dunno.” She shrugs. “Guess I just wanna know if there’s anything else I can do. Like, do you think I could help you make the antidote arrows? Then we wouldn’t have to travel back and forth to Milfred’s all the time.” Hurriedly, she adds, "Of course, I wouldn't want to impose if that's a special bonding time between you and Milfred."

 

[ellarose]

"Special..." Bonding time? Juliet's cheeks flame red at the concept and she chews absently at her lower lip as she considers it. Millicent, laughing like a mischievous imp before her cauldron. Her, standing warily to the wayside and occasionally backing away whenever it breathed strange-colored smoke. "Ah, no. That's not exactly how I would..." She shakes her head, a bit at a loss of how to answer. Magic is not her area of expertise... but what little she does know of creating antidote arrows is not exactly information she's inclined to share. (Her will to fix things, those letters... the contents of those letters... the person she'd been writing to. She doesn't even want to think about it.) "Much of Millie's process is a mystery to me. She took a few drops of blood from me, among other things... and it may be dangerous to experiment without her present. Which isn't to say that I doubt your skill as a caster. You-- what you did the other night was incredible." She recalls the way Willow sent that awful Griffith flying back against one of the temple pillars, the enchanted chains that wound around him. "You've been so brave." Between charging into the house of thorns to help Dorothea and standing up to Lady Laurence the night before... the Willow James walking beside her now is not the same Willow James who once cowered before an ogre in the woods.

"I've no trouble facing monsters in the wood. But Lady Laurence...?" Juliet shakes her head incredulously. She pulls her lips to the side, openly judging herself. "It is ridiculous." The memory of pressing her ear to the door while Lady Laurence and her mother argued flickers through her and she pushes it aside.

"We recently learned that our methods with Prince Zander were effective. There is still much to learn about what we did, of course, so perhaps we should focus our energy on better understanding it. We may discover a more efficient means of healing the Lightless." Juliet changes the subject. That might be for the best, anyway. The scrap pieces of her letters will run out eventually and the materials needed to make antidote arrows will disappear altogether. If there is another way, they may eventually need it. "...I've been relying solely on the antidote arrows for a long time, Willow. It hasn't been enough. It won't be enough."

This is true. Juliet has only inflicted two men with the sickness since she and Willow began traveling together. It is telling that Lightless cases have still been spreading in spite of her recent lack of involvement. She knows there is at least one other person in Folklore who possesses a gift like hers. Namely, whoever King Cedrick hired to curse Prince Zander. Perhaps the same person who cursed Paris Brooks. (And if this person continues to spread the Lightless affliction as rapidly as they have been, the number of afflictions will eventually exceed the number of antidote arrows.) The archer swallows the lump in her throat at the prospect of this outcome. She... hadn't really considered it before. She probably wouldn't have, if she hadn't taken the time to slow down and think things through. She'd simply intended to heal everyone she could. But what if better men, like Prince Zander, are in need of her help? What if there are eventually so few resources that the decision of who is worthy of being saved falls on her shoulders?

Then Juliet considers Lucinda, who undoubtedly wishes for Gerard to stay in his current form for as long as possible to avoid the marriage her parents arranged. (An arranged marriage that will proceed after he has been healed. While undergoing the Lightless affliction will indeed change Gerard's heart for the better-- while the state of his character will improve-- that does not mean that love will automatically bloom between them.) Juliet thought she'd been taking control back for women like her... but the night before, she realized there is no way for her to save Lucinda from this fate. All she can do is prolong it.

A familiar feeling of helplessness blankets over Juliet, her headache pounding anew at the base of her skull. It's overwhelming. How can I help her? She wonders, at a loss. How do I fix this?

Peaches's bubble nuzzles affectionately at the crook of Juliet's neck, the companion within glowing a faint pink. Her feelings may be imperceptible to everyone else... but Peaches has a sense for these things. Gradually, the throbbing of the archer's headache softens. Peaches had been born of Princess Elise's wish to heal her sickly father, thus she possesses the ability to ease pain and heal those who are sick or injured. Upon seeing the state that Flynn was in, it's no wonder at all that Princess Elise wished for her companion to accompany them on their journey.

As Juliet's mind clears, she notices the frantic shouts coming from the facility ahead.

"What is your business here!? This is no place for young ladies such as yourselves." One guard runs towards them, his tone a blend of frantic and professional.

Juliet's brow twitches and she curses softly under her breath. "...For fuck's sake." They don't have time for this. She pulls her hook back, revealing her head of red hair, and his eyes flicker with recognition.

"You dolt. Those are the heroines!" A second guard quickly joins the first, elbowing him in the side. ("Juliet August and..." There's murmuring from the group a ways behind them. "The one from Evermore. Damn. Can't believe the rumors are true. Never seen an other sider before.")

"Okay, okay! I see that now." The first guard elbows him right back. Juliet resists the temptation to roll her eyes. Children. The guard tugs anxiously at his collar. "Forgive us. We're a bit frazzled this morning, because..."

"Wait. Wait just one second." A third guard interrupts, big and gruff, but his lower lip puffs out like he's nothing more than (another) child. He boldly pulls Juliet forward by her chin, lifting her face up to study it closer. She tenses, resisting the urge to kick him in the groin. "Hooded maiden just like you broke in last night." The archer's brows draw together in confusion. A hooded maiden...?

"Heard from Lady Laurence last night that you refused to heal Gerard Stanley. Then that same evening, Gerard goes missing." The man continues, tapping his forefinger to his temple as if he's an investigative genius for putting two separate details involving Gerard Stanley together in the same sentence. Brilliant, truly brilliant. Except Juliet is not the hooded maiden of which he speaks! (She had indeed been with Willow for the remainder of the evening. And Lucky would have noticed had she tried to sneak away while she was fast asleep.) "Eh? Eh?" He looks to his colleagues, awaiting their praise for his shoddy deductions.

"Unhand Lady August this instant." Another man snaps. This one marches towards them with poise the others sorely lack. Numerous badges demanding respect gleam on his uniform. The guards around them adjust their own posture-- although, to Juliet, it seems they're doing so begrudgingly. Likely a consequence of... recent events. "Why, pray tell, would our heroine obstruct our efforts to help her?" He waves his hand dismissively at the men. "You lot run about like chickens with their heads cut off when you could be conducting a productive investigation. Leave us."

"...Sir Everson." Juliet briefly rubs her chin and dips into a curtsey as the other guards scatter. "With respect, I am not sure whether or not you have made our lives easier. The Lightless are dangerous... keeping them in close quarters may have grave consequences. And it seems Gerard has already broken out?"

"Bold of you to say." Sir Everson wears a small, self-deprecating smile. (Flynn Everson's father is very much like Flynn himself, in that he is strong but gentle. A touch more open-minded than the rest of the guard. He had been a good and trusted friend of Princess Elise's father as well... Queen Viviane, meanwhile, often deemed him too soft.) "I understand your concerns. But I can assure you, Lady August, that he did not break free of his cell himself. Our establishment is sturdily built. It is as they say. A 'hooded maiden' did indeed break in last night. Or, perhaps, a gentleman wearing a woman's clothes... meaning to frame a certain heroine?" He raises his brows. "I have considered many possibilities and will not jump to conclusions. We cannot be sure who opened Gerard's cell. However, I do know it was neither you nor your fellow heroine." He nods at Willow, acknowledging her with a kind glance. "The lock had been picked, not broken by force. You may come inside and see it for yourself."

"Queen Viviane requested our remaining supply of adamantite for the construction of this building." Everson explains as he guides them through the corridors of the facility. It seems the cells are not kept dangerously close together. It seems the architect was not a complete fool. (But still dangerous enough, should a break out occur. Given they've used adamantite, it will be a challenge for the afflicted by break free by force alone.) Juliet examines the cell doors, the narrow windows allowing a glimpse of the Lightless inside. (Some beat their bodies with abandon against the doors as they sense them passing through.) "Adamantite was fittingly named for the word 'adamant'. It is unyielding."

At last, they stop in front of Gerard's cell. The door is open still, perhaps left that way to preserve the scene the way they found it. Upon studying the lock and surrounding area, Juliet quickly comes to the same conclusion that Everson had described. The lock had been picked. Someone deliberately set Gerard free. (It seems he ran out of the establishment, without causing any trouble in the streets. That is one thing to be thankful for, at the very least.) The archer pauses, lowering her torch towards the floor as she notices a few smudges of blood streaked across the stones. "...Blood. Did any of the guards confront Gerard upon his escape?"

"None were fast enough." Everson explains. "We presume the blood belongs to our mysterious maiden."

"...I see. None of the guards seemed to be injured." Juliet notes, thinking back on their confrontation outside. Then she glimpses between herself and Willow. While they have sustained some injuries in their recent fights, none so fresh or recent as just last night. Considering the amount of blood, it would have been noticeable. "Nor are we. And that is why you are certain of our innocence." Hm. It seems they will have to pay attention for signs of such a wound.

"Indeed." Everson nods. "A scout is following his tracks... they lead directly into the wood. While we regret that this has happened, we can at least report that no one else has been gravely hurt or injured since his escape."

"...And how is it that the maiden managed to sneak in to begin with?" Juliet asks, tilting her head to the side as she considers the sturdy walls around them.

"I was not present at the time. One of the guards was sleeping through his shift last night." Everson pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. She does not envy him, having to herd those men. "He insists that he was enchanted. A doctor is monitoring him now."

"We will try and heal as many as we can while we're here." Juliet reasons. "I will use the antidote on those most severely afflicted."

Everson nods, briefly leaving them to inform the other guards of this development. When he's out of earshot, Juliet turns to Willow. "...Shall we also attempt the method we used with Prince Zander?"

 

[starboob]

The inside of the Lightless holding facility is the dictionary definition of the heebie jeebies, Willow is almost positive. The guttural, throaty groans of those sick and fighting off the transformation freeze the marrow in her bones to ice. Were Juliet and Lucky (and Peaches) not present, she would have frozen in her spot. (Or, perhaps not. Perhaps Willow really is different from the Willow who once curled into a ball when startled by an ogre. She does recognize that she’s changed; that traversing the wood, taking on kings (and Kings) has emboldened her. She’s much quicker to act, much freer to speak her mind. Even Juliet has commended her recent developments, so maybe she wouldn’t freeze solid if she were to come back here alone.) Still, a healthy amount of fear is what separates the fearless from the foolish.

And she has every right to be afraid when there has already been jailbreak. While the adamantite wasn’t actually broken, and while the cells still hold against the Lightless who ceaselessly use their bodies as battering rams, it’s only a matter of time.

Honestly, she finds it more concerning that a hooded maiden broke in last night and freed Gerard Stanley, specifically. The timing is not only suspicious, but that this figure was able to break in without being seen is disturbing. Who is to say they won’t come back and free more? Perhaps it’s not wearing down the adamantite they should be wary of, but those who are clever enough to slip through shadows. (Her mind also supplies the possibility of treason, that one of the guards was in on the events of last night and could have helped the hooded figure. She hopes for the sake of Amoria that isn’t the case, but she won’t rule it out.)

Like her companion, she notes to also be on the lookout for anyone with a significant and fresh wound. ‘Let’s just hope they’re not a healer as well as an enchanter.’ When Sir Everson leaves them, Willow is worrying a hole into her lip and only comes out of thought when Lucky taps her cheek with their tail and she recognizes that Juliet is suggesting something.

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush when she processes exactly what the other heroine has said, her eyes immediately shifting to their thread. A thrill of baby pink lightning zaps across it, as if acknowledgement alone has activated it. She gets why Juliet is suggesting this, having just spoken about understanding this alternative method, but there are still so many unknowns with that method. Neither Milfred nor Sawyer suggested it was dangerous, however, and she imagines they would have mentioned it if they thought their friends were putting themselves in obvious danger. At the same time, Sawyer mentioned that what they were doing, going back and forth between realms, is weaving. The exact type of magic where Willow is weakest. That they made it out the first time… They barely made it out. And who is to say that they will manage to arrive back in Folklore if they try this method again?

Willow hasn’t said anything about this, but she recognizes now that it was her want to go home that created that staircase to Evermore. It started to crumble when Juliet’s memories interfered. She doesn’t blame Juliet for that— she, more than most, understands that home can be complex. Having witnessed some of Juliet’s past, she can’t, doesn't, and won't blame her for having little desire to return home.

Even so, even with all the risk, they are the only ones who can experiment with this. They can’t create a test environment. They can’t do this in the safety of a lab. They have to be both scientists and lab rats.

After a long pause, Willow’s green eyes flicker over to the cell across from Gerard’s where a green-eyed Lightless has since stopped beating against their cell and now stares the heroines down. They huff, fogging up the small window, then open their maw to shriek— somehow high-pitched and low all at once. Willow flinches back, but doesn’t break from staring them down, green against green. “I don’t think we know near enough to be experimenting and I also don’t think we have a choice.

“This is going to be dangerous.” However, she knows that between the two of them, Juliet is the one who’s fearless. Or, more fearless. “And there’s no guarantee that we’ll arrive back in Folklore if we go inside one of those labyrinths again. Meaning, we might not be able to come back in time for the tournament.

“I know that I’m hard on myself, but believe me when I say I’m not a good time weaver. Time magic is tricky and I’m not confident I could land us back in Folklore at this moment or one not too far in the future.” She knows this is partly because she still views time as linear and abstract, not something nebulous and tangible that can be manipulated by her will. Even if she can pass all the textbook tests and write essays that convince her professors enough, the practical exams… She’s lucky those weren’t a significant portion of the grade.

She breaks her gaze away from the Lightless across the way and turns to Juliet instead. She squares her shoulders, balling her fists at her side. “Juliet, it’s going to be on you to get us back to Folklore. My roots are in Evermore and I haven’t established myself enough here to be that gateway back.” This is assuming the rules remain consistent throughout the labyrinths and that their gateway out will have to come from their desires to return home. (Perhaps there is another way to work around this, especially if desire is one of the principles of creating passage ways.) “I have full faith we’ll figure that part out, but it’s important we’re both prepared for any and all possibilities.”

Now it’s only a matter of selecting one of the Lightless and figuring out how to get themselves back to that third realm. Willow makes it clear that she doesn’t want to experiment with a red or violet eyed Lightless, recalling that Juliet said they are the most violent, and asks about the one currently barking at them, the one she’s been eyeing. With this decided, they also go over (in whispers) everything that happened before entering Prince Zander’s labyrinth. Willow recalls that she had tried to teleport them to the garden of glory but instead landed them in Zander’s memory of the garden. Following that logic, they walk over to the green eyed Lightless. Willow plucks the scroll of identifying information tucked inside a small letterbox next to the cell and reads it. “Count Alfonse Weston. Do you know him?” She tilts the parchment towards Juliet which shows a drawing of the man. “Can you describe some of his usual haunts? And, uh, point them out your map. This’ll help me focus.”

As it would turn out, Juliet’s dry and factual way of telling stories is immeasurably helpful when it comes to creating an accurate picture of the brothel Count Weston frequents for the sorceress. When Juliet points to the location on her map, tracing out the most common path to the brothel from their current location, Willow bops her head up and down, bouncing from foot to foot as she prepares. (She hates teleporting to places she's never been. Especially without a Presto Path, which she still thinks are useful.)

They call over Sir Everson and request that he open Count Weston’s cell. However, before doing so, they have Lucky shrink themself down so that they can pass through the sliver opening beneath the door. Once Lucky is inside, they grow, becoming twice the size of the Lightless, which is all the cell will allow for, and the sound of bodies crashing against metal thuds through the corridor, accompanied by gnashing teeth and snarls. The small window glows once with dragon flame, then the ruckus settles. Willow tiptoes to peer through the window and sees Lucky wrapped tightly around the count. They puff out blue smoke and Willow signals to Sir Everson to open the door.

The heroines dart inside and Willow casts a quick spell over the window, turning it opaque so that no one can spy on them. Then they work on winding their thread around the count, as well as Lucky. Once they both have a solid wrap, they hold tight to the thread. “Ready?” Willow asks, mostly to confirm that they’re about to attempt another trip to the third realm. Mostly to prepare herself. ‘Here goes nothing.’ She closes her eyes and focuses on the image Juliet helped her paint of the brothel and the path they might take there. Just as before, crackles of blue lightning jump around herself, Juliet, and the count. The lightning flashes three times and then the heroines, the companions, and the Lightless are gone.

 

[ellarose]

Juliet squints. A painful, throbbing sensation burns behind her eyes. (She can physically feel the distance between herself and Grace, like threads pulling and cutting into her skin.) Above her, clouds swirl around in circles like elegant dragons. Clouds or perhaps smoke... or fog? It's difficult to tell as the air here has no smell. It's stale, almost, like a musty old library. A dull buzzing clogs her ears when she sits up and she struggles to pull herself to her feet when her head might as well be packed full of lead. It looks like the grass is spinning, too. (...Is the labyrinth spinning or is it just her?) She gives herself five seconds to massage the knot between her brows and realizes that, yes, it is just her.

They're currently standing on a trimmed, green lawn. A massive, intimidating hedge maze stretches out before them. The sky is dark, like starless, moonless night... and yet the mist that clings to the greenery all around them is tinged with a faint glow that illuminates the surrounding area and allows them to see. While it appears on the surface as though they're standing outdoors, the smell still resembles a stuffy old building of some sort. Strange. Juliet supposes the aroma matches the individual they're dealing with here. Alfonse Weston. Eerily, though, the man is nowhere in sight. It's just the two of them, the eerily empty maze, and...

"Hurry, hurry!" A girlish, childlike voice beckons out from beyond the looming hedges. "It's time to play hide and seek!"

Juliet cautiously approaches the opening of the hedge maze, searching for the source of the voice with a hand poised over her dagger. Suddenly, a wall of vines with long, razor-sharp thorns shoots out of the ground and blocks her path, twisting and winding and leaving the entrance entirely obscured. She takes a cautious step backward, checking over her shoulder to make sure that Willow is safe behind her.

"Oh goodness me. Do you need me to explain the rules?" The voice sighs impatiently. "You have to stay there. Close your eyes and count to one hundred first. Once you've done that, you can come find me! You'll regret it if you peek. I repeat. No peeking." There's a pause, denoting hesitation, and some of the mist floats around Willow and Lucky as if sensing their presence and capabilities. "...No magic or flying, either."

Childlike laughter echoes ominously in the distance. The hedges rustle restlessly, casting rouge leaves to the ground, and there's a loud clap. "Let's begin, shall we? On the count of three. Now close your eyes or I'll peck them out with thorns!" The vines that burst from the ground before sway menacingly at the voice's command. Juliet takes another cautious step back, holding an arm out in front of Willow. The voice pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect, and then continues. "Three, two..."

Juliet trades a meaningful glance with Willow before closing her eyes. It's dangerous, yes. The sorceress made this abundantly clear before they took this course of action. (And of course, Juliet was present as well. She understands there will be a risk, just as there's been a risk to everything they've done thus far.) While she doesn't particularly enjoy the concept of closing her eyes for one hundred seconds, the alternative of suffering the consequences for 'cheating' is worse. Thorns to the eyes. (It makes her think of Dorothea's hollowed eyes. Of Sawyer, her news of the murders and Evermore. Willow must be eager to get back.) Anyhow, they have their other senses to rely on. If she senses something has gone awry, she'll break the rules and intervene. For now, until they learn more about this labyrinth, it seems like they should play along.

"...One! Very good. I'm glad to see you both know how to follow the rules. Unlike someone else I know." The voice sighs. "I'm going to hide now! Count to one hundred. Remember, no peeking."

For the duration of their counting period Juliet is tense but no harm comes to them. When it's safe to open their eyes again, they notice that the hedge maze has retreated far off into the distance, leaving an expansive garden open to them. A new location to explore. The shadowy figures of what looks like two children push their way through the gates, leaving them open and allowing the archer and sorceress duo to follow.

As they walk through rows of neatly trimmed hedges and blooming beds of flowers, they come across a wooden tree swing. The shadow children appear there when they reach it, the boy pushing the girl. "Send me to the moon!" The girl cries, her voice undercut with laughter. (The boy shakes his head. "But that's impossible.") The figures disappear, leaving mist behind. With nothing left to see but an abandoned swing, they walk further into the gardens. While they explore further, Juliet checks behind each tree and up in the branches over their heads. They ought to find the source of that voice. (Whoever it is, she thinks they may have some answers... or at least lead them to wherever Alfonse is hiding.) "Perhaps we're actually meant to be searching for Alfonse?" Juliet wonders aloud. Unlike Prince Zander, they've yet to cross paths with him.

Willow helped to heal Prince Zander by calling him a walnut. Will calling Alfonse a walnut give them the same result? From what Juliet knows of Alfonse, however, he may warrant comparison to something much worse than a simple walnut.

They cautiously move through the garden, finding nothing in the trees or bushes, and eventually come across a tea party with daintily dressed stuffed bears set in the chairs around the table. (The tea plates are topped with delicious looking cakes. Juliet reaches for one and it disappointingly vanishes under her touch.) In a flash, the figures of (presumably) the same two children appear. One kicks their legs in their chair while the other sits tall and stirs their tea.

"We'll need to practice for all the parties we'll host when we're older, Alfie. Now stop fidgeting!" A girl's voice chides, sounding very much like a child imitating her mother. (...Her voice sounds quite similar to the one that asked them to play, full of that haughty superiority. Not to be mistaken with the first girl, the one on the swing set. It seems they're not the same person after all. Two girls from Alfonse's childhood, then?)

"I only came for the cakes." The boy proclaims, somewhat scandalized. The cakes in question reappear as he reaches for one and inelegantly stuffs it in his mouth. (Juliet tries to reach for one again... and once more, they vanish. Damn. No ghost cake for her.) "You're deluding yourself, Edie. I will never marry you." (Juliet shakes her head at Willow and mouthes the words 'he did'. Edie Weston, if she recalls correctly, is his wife.)

"Alfonse, come play hide and seek with me!" A new voice calls from faraway. (This one belongs to the first girl-- the one on the swing set, who had spoken about the moon.) The boy rudely takes the whole plate of cakes and bolts from the table, jumping at the chance to do anything but this.

"Alfie, no. Come back!" The girl at the table-- Edie-- whines, knocking over her tea cup as she scrambles to rise and stomp her feet in protest. Eventually, the stomping causes the tea set to rattle... then the very ground beneath their feet quakes, nearly throwing them off balance. Juliet widens her stance and is held sturdier yet when Lucky curls their tail around them to ensure that neither she or Willow fall. In a flash, the figures and the entire garden disappear. Now they're standing on a floor made up of dusty wooden boards, still surrounded by that same dark sky. Beyond them there's an empty tree swing with a book sitting atop it, an oversized plate of cakes, and a peculiar giant moon sitting inside a broken teacup. Juliet squints at it and tilts her head. (...They're all viable hiding places.)

"Alfie... where did you go?" The voice (Edie, presumably) whispers, almost menacingly. "...He's in here somewhere. Help me find Alfie!"

 

[starboob]

The mention of the moon earlier and seeing it again, sitting inside of the broken teacup, reminds Willow of a conversation she hasn’t thought of in many years— so much so, it’s like wondering if the events of a dream had been real or not. In this memory, Dorothea and her had been sitting on a park bench, late one night. She had tilted her head to look at the stars, something she often did whenever it was a moonless night and the stars didn’t have to compete to shine. “I wish I could go to Saturn,” Dorothea had said. It was a sentiment she spoke about often with Willow, but on that night, her side-eyed glance seemed expectant. Then she asked Willow why she stopped talking about going to the moon and that had confused her, because she wasn’t aware she had ever spoken of going to the moon. She couldn’t (and still can’t) recall a moment where she had even talked about the moon with Dorothea— aside from maybe a passing comment that the moon looked pretty or, jokingly, saying the moon was her girlfriend. Dorothea’s comment made it seem like she was referring to something else, but Willow never found out what she meant, because Jovi had come to collect Dorothea, a sign that their late night rendezvous was about to be discovered.

While this memory is just an association (and something that only replays in her mind’s eye), the strangest thing then happens. As Willow mulls over this memory, Dorothea shifts into the labyrinth. She seems brighter in the third realm and, somehow, Willow knows it’s not a memory of hers that’s interfering, because what the celebrity is wearing is too much like her present style. Her eyes are shaded with the baggage beneath them, too. When Dorothea makes eye contact with Willow, her brows furrow and her head tilts. A headache buds at the forefront of the sorceress’s head and she lifts the heel of her palm to massage it away.

Dorothea disappears a second later and Willow takes a few steps back, startled. Before she can even ask whether or not Juliet has also seen this apparition, the stern “acts older than she really is” voice squeals with rage, seething. “No cheating! I said no magic!” The dusty floorboards below them begin to snap and crack, sending splinters through the air like shrapnel from a bomb. Willow covers her face, but it’s Lucky who actually protects both heroines from the brunt of the shards by growing in size. However, those razor sharp vines from before start writhing up from the ground and Lucky can only knock so many of them away at once with their tail. The voice shrieks again, “No magic and certainly no help from old friends. Cheaters never ever prosper. Off with your heads!”

Uh oh.

“Wait!” Willow cries, certainly not ever in the mood to have her head chopped off. “I didn’t mean to break the rules, I’m sorry— what about the three strikes and you’re out policy?” Her mind works quickly to latch onto something that might save them from the wrath of a child. “Don’t you want our help finding Alfie?”

The vines pause and Willow can practically feel the little girl, Edie, considering the sorceress. Without warning, the dusty old room mends itself. The vines shrink back beneath the floorboards and the splinters schloop (scientific term) back into place from the places they shot out. Again, they are faced with the three possible hiding spots. “Fine. That is one strike, Miss James. And for you too, Sir Lucky and Lady August. You are all on the same team. Now…” Edie trails off, her tone changing from malevolent to her prior child-stern voice. “Help me find Alfie.”

Willow breathes a sigh of relief, glancing apologetically from Juliet to Lucky. (Not that bringing Dorothea here had even been a conscious action. She’s not even sure why or how that happened. Her magic hasn’t been unruly since the child lock was placed on her.) Then she turns her attention back to the possible hiding spots. “Hmm, based on what we’ve gathered so far…” She slides closer to the options, drifting towards none in particular. A grin tugs at her lips, noticing the top of a shadowy head peeking up from the lip of the teacup. This is followed by a stifled giggle, shushing, and the head quickly ducking below the brim. On her tiptoes, she moves towards the cup, confident in her guess, then bursts over the rim to surprise the giggling pair but by the time she’s looking within the cup, the shadows are gone. When she looks up, she sees them running off, hand in hand, snickering.

“Look! Look at what you have done!! Those rotten cheaters.” The wrathful child shrieks again and while she remains unseen, Willow gets the sense that she’s pointing accusingly towards the pair. “They are closer than ever! You are driving him away from me!” Though she blames Willow, she’s at least not threatening her, specifically. Menacingly, Edie continues. “Oh, I know just what to do.”

Like a window breaking, the scene shatters around them and they’re back in that garden from before with all its trees and bushes. The running pair are nowhere to be seen and, now, beside them is the small shadow of Edie and a much larger, giant shadow of a woman. The giant shadow is tall enough that Willow only reaches up to her knees.

With a voice like a bell tower, she sounds off, “Alfonse Edric Weston! You better not be with that harlot’s by-blow when I find you.” The giant shadow of a woman, who Willow is guessing is the count’s mother based on context, stomps through the garden, crushing bushes and trees alike wtih her wicked sharp heels.

“Really, Edie?” Alfie’s voice whips through the air, scoffing. However, Willow also notes that his voice sounds older, but it doesn’t have the lowness of a grown man’s voice. “Sending my mother after me? There are simpler ways to get my attention.”

“Alfie, I just don’t understand why you give her so much of your attention.” While the young shadow of Edie remains beside them, the one who speaks back to the older Alfie is also older herself. “She is lowborn and unworthy of a future count.”

“You sound just like my mother.”

“I just want what is best for our families. Why can you not grow up and acknowledge your responsibilities? Your duties. You are no ordinary man. You are a Weston and future count.”

“Paugh! That can all wait. Father's spirit is too hardy to be broken.”

Lightning spreads across the dark blank sky above them, followed by the ominous clap of thunder. The giant mother who has destroyed the garden searching for her son, shrinks down to a more reasonable size. She cups her hand over her mouth to amplify her shout. “Alfonse! Alfonse, where are you hiding? This is no time for games, come out. Your father—!”

The labyrinth then fills with the sound of two swords striking against each other in such quick succession that sparks rain over them. It's accompanied by the sound of gravel scraping beneath boots as the unseen fighters dance across their arena. Finally, there's a gross wet noise soon followed by gurgled choking.

Around them, a stable constructs itself and at the back of the stables, in a pile of hay, there’s a boy with his head in a girl’s lap. It’s hard to say how old the two figures are, because they still appear as silhouettes, but Willow would guess they’re no older than sixteen or seventeen. The girl is stroking the boys hair consolingly. “Alfonse… I cannot speak to what you are now burdened with, but if I can be of any comfort—” She sighs before finishing wherever that thought might have gone. She starts over. “You know I care deeply for you, yes?”

The shadow of Alfonse nods.

“Then you know I cannot let you be this way.” She pushes them both to stand. “This may as well be your last day of boyhood. Let us see if we can build one of those Evermore rockets. If we are successful, we shall run away to the moon or beyond. If we are not, well, I suppose we can always blame your apricot sized brain.”

The boy cannot even protest before they are interrupted.

“Alfonse. Alfonse! Quit your hiding, there are matters we must discuss.” Edie calls from outside of the stables. The mystery girl turns to Alfonse, pushing him backwards into the stack of hay. She quickly ducks to put a hand over his mouth before he can protect. “Do you really wish to see Edie right now?” He shakes his head. “Let me deal with her and then we shall build that rocket.”

The girl proceeds to cover the boy in hay, turning just in time for Edie’s entrance. Even as a silhouette, Willow knows her expression is unimpressed. “Ugh, always I find you instead of Alfonse. Just as well. We also need to talk. Woman to woman.”

 

[ellarose]

The mist swirling around them thickens, tinting a soft hazy pink and gradually deepening to blood-red. The shadows that once swathed the two women's figures peel away in ribbons that get thrown back into the darkness of the void-like sky that surrounds them, presenting them with vivid details they'd been missing before. Edie's wheat-blonde hair is styled in fine ringlets piled on her head in an elaborate braided bun that must have taken her lady's maid hours, wearing fine jewels and a gown, and a strong perfume that rivals even the hay in the stables wafts towards them. The look of a women who has put in an excruciating effort to be noticed... given this is Alfonse's memory, however, the color of her gown and shape of her jewelry blurs and shifts around-- almost as if the fine details adorning her are uncertain of what they're meant to be. (It's as though he remembers she likes fine things, but he hasn't truly cared enough to commit any of these details to memory. Even her unimpressed face is a touch blurry.) None of these abnormalities exist on the woman standing across from her-- each of her features are defined and retraced with a striking sharpness. Her long auburn hair is tied in a braid that simply hangs over her shoulder-- it's loose in places, indicative that she might've done it in a rush that morning or did some sort of work that put it out of sorts. And yet not a piece of her is out of place compared to the wavering image of Edie in Alfonse's mind. Her aproned gown is not even three times as fine, but it is certain of what it is supposed to be and not a single smudge or stain is out of place. Perhaps aside from the pretty green bow she tied her hair with, little else has been done.

"...Now you choose to acknowledge me as a woman?" The woman speaks, her voice quiet but steady. "What an honor." On the surface, she does appear quite composed even as Edie draws nearer with the gait of a cat cornering a mouse. The only thing that betrays her nerves is the way she winds the end of her braid around her fingers, cautiously moving it over the shoulder as if to put the green ribbon out of her sight. "...There is very little for us to discuss. And as you can see, I am about to sweep the stables. Please leave me to my work."

"Sweep the stables?" Edie scoffs, floating closer as she looks the other woman up and down with a critical eye. "It appears to me that you've been lazing in the hay." She gestures to the hay clinging to the hem of the woman's dirtied skirts. "Have you been scribbling in that book of yours again? My father says it's rather unnatural for a lady to take interest in such things."

Edie surveys the stables carefully, as if she senses that Alfonse is hiding there. The red mist around them pulses with a heartbeat rhythm, the sound of someone who's afraid to be found.

"Show it to me."

"...Excuse me?"

"Your book, Penelope. If you show it to me, I will leave you alone." Edie demands, raising her brows. "I promise."

Edie stalks closer and there's a tick in Penelope's squared jaw as she refrains from refusing the way she no doubt wishes to. The red mist thumps even more frantically, the temperature rising around them-- as if they're feeling the flush of someone else's nerves.

"See? It's not impossible." Penelope's voice, the childlike version, rings to their left. The shadows at the wooden swing set from before reappear-- but this time they resemble actual children. They sit together beneath the shade of the tree as she shows Alfonse her book. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to fly like that?" She tilts her head back and stares longingly at the sky. "Despite our differences, we're like trapped birds here. The both of us. And even worse is that we're trapped in different cages."

Silence stretches between them and Penelope breaks it. "...You're real quiet. You think it's weird, don't you?"

"I'm just thinking." Alfonse replies. He hesitates and then continues. "Have you ever considered becoming a poet, Penny?"

Penelope snorts. "Oh, Alfonse. Don't make fun of me."

"Or an artist." Alfonse professes sincerely. "You're smarter than anyone I know. You should show this to people."

"Fine. I will show it to you." The older Penelope says, drawing the former memory back into focus as their child selves fade away into the darkness. She reaches for it and holds it beyond Edie's reach when she tries to take hold of it. "I will show it to you." She repeats sternly. "However, I will not be giving it to you. There's a difference."

"Well, I never." Edie proclaims, appalled. "Who are you to take that tone with me? Hand it here. I cannot see when you hold it up like that." She twists her lips. "There is something in that book that Alfonse is simply fascinated with. I only wish to know what it is. As his future wife, I've a right to know." Then she tilts her head to the side, a touch theatrically. "If I cannot be certain of what you're scribbling in there, I will have no choice but to tell my father you are dabbling in witchcraft."

"You are so..." Penelope's cheeks blaze red, visibly frustrated with how easily a word from Edie could conceivably destroy her life. "So small-minded."

Edie blinks, appearing rather shocked by this response. (Almost as though they've traded places. She's the mouse, Penelope's the cat.) She blushes in return, embarrassed at this accusation to the point of being speechless. She blinks harder, looking as though she's fighting tears. Had Edie argued back, Juliet's inclined to believe a certain memory involving Lavinia Laurence might have pushed its way to the forefront of the labyrinth. However, she never does.

"Here." Penelope bravely pushes the book into Edie's hands, then, winding her arms tightly around her middle as if to brace herself for the worst.

Edie delicately flips through the pages. She lingers on some for a while, her eyes taking in the different drawings and entries. After a while, it actually seems as though she's taking an interest in what she's looking at.

Penelope fidgets, unnerved by the silence. "Are you quite satisfied now?"

Edie looks from the book to Penelope. "Yes." The other woman flinches, as if she's prepared for the worst... but then she simply hands it back. "I am."

"You're... not going to tear it up?" Penelope says after a beat of uneventful silence. She blinks, dumbfounded. "Or set it aflame?"

"What...?" Edie balks, eyebrows rising. "I would never do such a cruel thing. I've no idea what Alfonse has told you but I am not a monster, Penelope." She hesitates, fluffing her fine skirts. "I am a lady." Then she continues. "Your drawings are quite impressive." Then she gestures around the stables incredulously. "You possess so much talent... and yet you're here, sweeping the stables." She doesn't appear to be saying this to be cruel-- rather just pointing out the unfairness of it. There's a long stretch of silence before she speaks again. "Perhaps I could change that."

"What...?" It's Penelope's turn to balk, furrowing her brow. Clearly, she hadn't anticipated this response. She squints as if searching for the lie embedded in Edie's words.

"There are kingdoms overseas that offer plenty of opportunities for young artists like you." Edie tilts her head, tapping a finger to her chin. "My father acts as though my only purpose in life is to become Alfonse's wife. And I suppose it is." She takes one of Penelope's hands. "There is more for you out there. Perhaps if I talked to the right people... I could arrange an opportunity for you to leave this place behind."

"You..." Penelope still doesn't seem inclined to believe any of this. "You are just trying to get rid of me."

"In a way... yes, I suppose I am." Edie says, not denying it. "But you can do better than Alfonse. I cannot." She wraps herself in her arms. "As a husband, I know he will not take good care of me. He possesses so little regard for me... and he never considers my position, either. And yet I still try to connect with him, because that is my responsibility to my family. My parents tell me I must work harder while he shirks his responsibilities and does nothing at all. He is a spoiled little boy who will expect to be looked after his entire life." She shakes her head. "I pay close attention, you know. I may know him better than anyone else. You are hardworking. He is not."

"No... No, I would never bad-mouth my Alfie like this!" The shadow child version of Edie shakes her head, denying the words of her older self. Juliet furrows her brow in confusion. There's no time to consider any of this, though, when the ground falls away beneath their feet. (But instead of falling into the void that opens up below, they float? They're flying.) "I will always love Alfonse more than anyone else in the whole entire world." She sighs. "My entire existence revolves around him. We simply must find him."

Juliet's head pounds, her stomach turns somersaults and she's almost certain she's going to be sick... though she's uncertain if it is because of their spontaneous flight or because of shadow Edie's words. That's how he thinks of her, she realizes. Thinking that her entire existence revolves around him. Disgusting. There is clearly more to Edie than just Alfonse. Perhaps, on some level, he even realizes this.... and yet he's determined to hold onto the image of her that best suits his own narrative. He sees her as a child. Juliet realizes, irritated on her behalf. That's why she looks like that.

They fall (fly?) through a dizzying expanse of stars and planets. Tin beasts that remind Juliet a little of cars soar around them-- breaking down, crashing, and adding to her unease. For a few seconds, she becomes so disoriented that she loses hold of her consciousness-- reclaiming it again after solid ground reforms beneath them.

"...She left because of you." Alfonse clutches the green ribbon Penelope had been wearing in his hands. They're in a lavish sitting room, the only light coming from a crackling fireplace. His mouth is in a grim line, his expression severe. "This is your fault."

"I merely presented her with an opportunity. It was her choice to leave, Alfonse." Edie replies matter-of-factly. "I did not force her to board that ship." The sound of waves breaks through... and suddenly, water pours down through the chimney, putting out the fire and filling the room. "If you truly wished to run away with her, you could have."

The water deepens, changing the scenery of the labyrinth into an endless ocean... and before they know it, a large ship comes sailing right for them. Juliet grabs onto Willow's hand, pulling her to the side in attempt to avoid it. And as the ship passes by she catches a glimpse of Alfonse-- the real Alfonse-- standing on the deck.

 

[starboob]

With a thought and her will, Willow uses the rules of the labyrinth— that seem to run on associations and dreamlike logic— to bring them aboard the ship where the dark haired and dark eyed Alfonse waits. He’s slumped over the rail, wringing his soft hands together. His wavy hair sticks to his face from the combination of ocean spray and, perhaps, a storm that has just broken. Willow guesses this based on the feel of the air around them and how its charge seems to be waning as they drift further from the dark clouds behind them. (And the ever present mist.) It seems that Alfonse has committed these details to memory and that is more than can be said for his memories of Edie, who she is beginning to think has every right to feel jilted if his treatment of her by his memory is any indication.

“Who are you? I remember you not.” His voice is gruff and harsh, almost wolflike, though he doesn’t seem at all surprised by their sudden appearance. (Perhaps the dreamlike quality of Afterglow lulls those who are trapped here into a sense of security, as she recalls Prince Zander also had cooly reacted to their presence.) He doesn’t turn to face them, remaining slouched over the rail. Perhaps he doesn’t feel that he owes them that respect. “Is this some trick of Edie’s? I tell you, I shan’t go back. Not until I have righted things here.”

This should be good news. This should make their job of healing him easier if he is already willing to do the work. However, something about his words tells Willow that he might be sailing towards a fantasy, a wish, a hope. ‘Righted things here.’ Given the conversation they witnessed only moments ago in that sitting room, she has reason to believe he might be seeking to change the past. She doesn’t know whether or not to pity him.

Willow thinks long and hard about how to respond, given everything she has gathered about him so far. (A stubborn and spoiled man-child is not easy to reason with.) She shrugs her shoulders with indifference. She doesn’t think she can reach him just yet and, admittedly, she is curious what they’ll find once they reach the shore. “What do I care if you come back? I don’t know you or Edie. Do as you please.”

“Then what is it you do here on my ship? I recall not taking maidens on this voyage.” His head half turns, but he still does not look at the heroines. He inspects his nail beds and Willow rolls her eyes. “Ah, nevermind. You must be the captain’s girls. Well, be off then.”

Willow’s ears steam at that comment and she nearly marches right up to the count to give him a piece of her mind, but two things stop her— Lucky squeezing her shoulder (but even she can feel they’re heated by the comment as well) and the sudden, rapid change of the scenery.

In a fast forward blur, the ship arrives and is docked at the shore of some gleaming, glittering kingdom. Herself, Juliet, the companions, and Alfonse remain still as everything moves around them in a dizzying, disorienting way. One moment they’re all on the deck, then they’re moving through the city as if on a conveyor belt. Occasionally, they’ll make a stop at Alfonse’s will— at first he asks locals for the whereabouts of the royal academy. With happy thanks, he’ll step back onto the conveyor and they’ll zip forward for a few minutes before he steps off again and wanders into a tavern, a brothel, an inn. At this point, Willow cannot tell whether Alfonse moves on his own accord or if he is trapped in the cycle of what happened in this memory. With the disorienting pace of everything, she isn’t able to ask.

Finally, however, Alfonse stumbles off the conveyor, liquor heavy on his breath. They stop in front of an impressive stone building that glitters even with the lowlight of dusk. Willow isn’t sure if this is supposed to be an irony, but the building is a literal ivory tower that stretches so high, she can’t see the top of the building. It spirals up like a corkscrew into the clouds. If they have to climb stairs, Willow is going to—

In another blink they arrive somewhere within the tower at an emerald painted door with a brass knocker. Alfonse slicks his hair back, clears his throat, and bangs the knocker with more force than necessary. “Coming!” They hear from within and, after a few locks and latches are undone, the door swings open to a paint splattered Penelope, some years older than they last saw her. Her eyes widen and she takes a step back, as if Alfonse is a ghost and not a friend from her youth.

Alfonse takes a step forward, offering his hand to her. “Penny,” his voice is a soft whisper. “Penelope, at long last I have arrived and I wish you come with me, back to Amoria.”

“At long last?” She raises a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you think me some storybook maiden who has waited upon you?” Penny does not hide the insult from her tone and Alfonse barely restrains from flinching back. “Need you be reminded I came here of my own free will or has the ale and pipe weed gone to your head?”

“What? I…” The man falters and pales, taking a step back and withdrawing his hand, appearing like a kicked puppy with his sad dark eyes. “I suppose I assumed you would be happy to see me?”

“Alfie,” She softens with a sigh. “Of course I am happy to see you, but you come here after three years, not a single correspondence written, and expect me to uproot my life and go back to Amoria? The very place where “my life” and “Hell” were synonymous?”

“Your life would not be that way were you to return with me. I am a count now, I can make those troubles go away.”

“And what makes you think I am unhappy here? That I would even wish to return, were your naïve words even true?” Her words come out hot, like a woman who has had three years to deliberate over her position in life. “What would I even do if I were to come back?”

“Why, you would be with me and we could be happy and you could build your rockets in the country at House Weston.”

“Oh, I am sure Edie would love that.”

“Why care what Edie thinks? We never did before.”

“So… you expect me to come back to Amoria with you, build rockets like we’re children again, and… I don’t know, become your concubine? I am told you have plenty mistresses at your behest, your excellency.”

“No, no— not at all. You will be… You will be…” He stutters on his words once more, shrinking back as he seems to realize that there is no winning this argument; as he seems to realize how ill thought out this plan is. However, rather than take a step back, he digs his heels in and, full of indignance, demands, “Why are you being so difficult? Do you no longer care for me?”

Penny doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even seem surprised. If anything her eyes reflect pity. “Alfonse, it has been a pleasure to see you, but, you see, I have far outgrown you and you have remained the little boy I once loved. You ought to leave. My husband shall be returning soon and it is best you be off.”

“Husband?”

“Yes. Had you started this intrusion by asking me anything of my life, rather than assume I have waited on you for three years, you might have realized I am two years married. Happily so.”

“I–I don’t believe it! You are just saying this to be rid of me and keep the patronage of Edie’s father.”

“Before you insult me further and continue this embarrassing charade, depart while my memory of you still has a shred of goodness.” The rim around her eyes starts to glow red with malice and her words add heat to the air around them. “And a word to the wise, Alfonse? When seeking to sweep a woman off her feet, do try to avoid the brothel on your way over." She wrinkles her nose. "I can smell it on you.”

The door slams shut in front of them, blowing them backwards back onto the ship. Alfonse is again slumped over the rail in contemplation. Before either heroine can react, they’re hurled forward through time once more, almost repeating the exact same steps through the city as before. However, this time, Alfonse takes Penny’s advice and avoids the brothels (but not the taverns). And when they arrive at the royal academy, this time at midday, Alfonse adjusts his pleasantries, this time innocently asking Penny if she might entertain an old friend. (She makes no mention of a husband.) She agrees and gives him a tour of the academy, showing off her gallery of paintings and the sculptures that appear to made out of broken or failed rockets.

As they walk through the display of broken rockets, Penny points to one that resembles a child’s take on a rocket (by the other sider’s standards, at least). “That one, I thought I might have done it.” She sighs, though whatever defeat she may have felt with her experiments seems to have been grieved already.

“Ah, so none have worked?”

“No, unfortunately something about Folklore’s atmosphere,” she rolls her wrist vaguely, “makes these contraptions impossible. It does not matter material or fuel source I try, they only give a hum at best. I am utterly confounded as are the other engineers and inventors. I foolishly even put in a request for Lord August’s thoughts.”

Alfonse considers this, tilting his head as he walks around the impressive contraption. He dips to his haunches, even, to examine it from every angle. After some deliberation, he rises, and clears his throat. Slowly, he approaches Penny and takes her scarred, calloused hands in his soft ones. “Well, why don’t I take you to Evermore? Perhaps that could help your research— you could learn from their scientists and inventors.”

“Alfie.”

“What? Why must you look at me like I am a fool? I am serious.”

“I know and that is why I look at you as you are a fool.” She pulls her hands from his grasp, turning her back towards him as she looks at the sculpture of a woman’s figure. “We know not even how to get to Evermore. A gateway has not been discovered in generations and all the rumored ones are deep in the wood. I scared myself half to death even traveling through it to get here and I wish not to take a road less traveled.” Before Alfonse can respond, before he can strengthen his argument, she continues. This time her voice trembles and her words almost sound pitying. “Do you think me so easy that you can impress my affections? I know your ploy, Alfie. I know you perhaps better than you even know yourself.”

“Now you sound like Edie,” he wrinkles his nose. “Why must you be so difficult? I am giving you an opportunity. We can escape our cages together.”

“But I have already escaped mine. I am happy here. Truly I am. I've no desire to return to Amoria. I am content with the mystery of the rocket to remain, for it keeps my mind working towards new feats.” With an air of finality, she waves him off.

Just as before, they’re pulled back through time and are back on the ship. Willow has seen enough and she doesn’t exactly want to end up stuck in this fruitless loop. It doesn’t even matter to her what version of events is true, because it doesn’t seem to matter. She can already tell that not even Alfonse’s mind is powerful enough to conjure a favorable outcome. (How long has he been at this?) “Alfonse!” Willow cries, throwing her hands up in the air before they can be propelled through the kingdom again. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“Don’t anchor yourself to a gone girl.”​

“And who are you to tell me what to do, girl?” Alfonse turns violently around, fists balled at his sides as his face darkens with fury. He takes a threatening step closer to Willow. Lucky jumps from her shoulder, growing just slightly in size. They growl and hiss at Alfonse, daring him to take another step closer to Willow. He halts, but continues his barrage. “I am to win her back! That is my destiny. That is why I am here and if you stand in my way...” His eyes flicker to Lucky, who puffs black smoke from their nostrils in warning. He straightens his posture and steps back, though a threat still lingers in the air. “You should not be here. Be gone.”

Though this never happened before, a large dark purple tentacle rises up from the sea behind Alfonse. “I am the captain of my fate! I am no trapped bird— I shall anchor my heart to whomever I please. Penny will take me back. She has to.”

With that, the tentacle descends over the ship deck.

 

[ellarose]

This is torture. Juliet struggles to differentiate whether her own mind is spinning or if it's the labyrinth dragging them through time again. Stop... spinning. Focus. If willpower alone could have stopped the world from spinning, she would have done it by now. It would appear she's at the mercy of her monster of a headache. It's worse than before with all the constant back and forth, mincing her thoughts up like vegetables and stirring them around in a piping hot soup. (Ah. Soup would be delightful right now. However, even if the archer were to find some in the labyrinth, she is confident it would disappear just like the cakes from before had. Gnats.) 'I wish you come with me, back to Amoria.' Her defenses lowered, the words pick away at her and burrow deep inside. 'Amoria? The very place where “my life” and “Hell” were synonymous?'

'You can't keep doing this!' Juliet is thankful Willow is there-- hoping she manages to put an end to this nonsense the way she had the first time. (It seems a talking to from Willow James has a hidden sort of power. Her words are powerful. Whether that be through telling stories, calling Prince Zander a walnut or coaxing Dorothea back from the affliction plagued her.) Even so, she recalls what the sorceress had said before they arrived. 'Juliet, it’s going to be on you to get us back to Folklore.'

'The very place where “my life” and “Hell” were synonymous?'

...It's not going well this time, is it? Juliet makes a last ditch effort to grind down on everything tossing and turning in her, lunging forward to push Willow out of the path of the incoming tentacle. They hit the deck in a heap and the archer automatically brings herself to her haunches, reaching into her cloak for the gun she stole. (From what she observed from Sabrina, it'll be quicker than raising her bow and selecting an appropriate arrow.) Raising the unfamiliar weapon, Juliet feels around for the trigger and--

Bang! An deafening blast rings through her ears, sends zings down her arms... but nothing happens. One tentacle after another descends down on them, one overlapping the next, and Lucky moves to shield the heroines with their body. They don't get crushed but they are pushed far, far away from Alfonse. They farther they fall, the darker and less detailed the labyrinth becomes... until it's a prison of pure nothingness.

'I've no desire to return to Amoria.'

When they finally land upon solid ground, they discover that it's... grassy. The razor-thin sliver of moon in the sky emits some light, granting them limited visibility under the cover of night. (As do a few firefly jars hanging on the side of a nearby-- oh. Juliet realizes they're outside of Millicent's cottage.) The moon... blinks...? And then the archer realizes the moon is not a moon at all, but an eyeball. No. One by one, more eyeballs just like it blink across the expanse of darkness, staring down upon them like eerie stars.

"Go away." Juliet hears a younger version her own voice say, strained with emotions she conceals so well now. (Rage. Fear.) "Go. Leave me alone! Or I'll--"

In a flicker, two figures appear in front of the cottage. One is of Juliet's fourteen year old self, standing with her chin defiantly raised in the doorway. The other is a figure in a dark gown and hood, approaching slowly with an imperious and almost unnatural gait. The younger Juliet tosses stones to deter the figure from coming any closer... but the figure in the dark hood gracefully weaves left and right to avoid each one. The younger Juliet settles for raising her bow instead-- and without even a moment's hesitation, she shoots an arrow at the their heart.

"Or you'll...?" Sefarina, now standing close enough to be illuminated by the creepy sky of eyes, grins with her doll-like ruby-red lips. Amusedly she catches the arrow between her fingers just an inch away from her chest. "You know you cannot kill me, love." She glances inquisitively down at the arrow before casting it aside with the flick of her hand. "Still, that was quite rude. You should know better than to treat a guest that way." She giggles behind her hand. "I must admit, I love these games we play. You hid yourself so very well this time... but I've finally found you."

Juliet watches her carefully, bow still raised, backing into the doorway like a cornered animal.

"...It was a clever plan. Framing me for your murder?" Sefarina's eyes glint dangerously in the dark. (The eyes in the sky do the same.) "The dungeons are no place for a lady such as myself. But alas, it was there that I overheard the delightful little rumor from Flynn Everson and his mysterious sweetheart that Juliet August is still alive."

The present Juliet barely registers Peaches's bubble brushing against her neck. (She's frozen quite still by the sight of her, surrounded by those watching eyes.)

"You were going to kill me." The fourteen year old Juliet narrows her eyes, her knuckles white. "I did it to survive."

"Was I really?" Sefarina's blue eyes widen with faux fascination. "Did the witch tell you that?" They darken. (So do the ones in the sky. The clouds open mouthes full of teeth and whisper, "The witch, the witch, the witch.") Juliet instinctively reaches for her arrows again and the other girl takes careful note of this with a nod. "If you wish to protect her, I suggest you come with me. I shall not harm her..." She innocuously drapes a hand over her chest. "However, I must warn you that a search party from Amoria is near. And should they find you here, the people will surely come to their conclusions about the witch. A grave fate will befall her. You know it as well as I."

"Your witch misunderstood my true intentions. You know how I love to play games, Juliet." The memory is collapsing. "I know places we can hide. Allow me a chance to explain myself before you close your heart to me forever."

The world swirls again, a cocktail of ocean foam and white-noise. When it stills again, Grace sits anxiously before a deep hole dug in the earth, whining softly under her breath. The sight of her companion might have consoled her if this were any other memory. Gracie sits before an open grave. The grave. Her grave.

"Gods. She still alive!" A younger Flynn Everson rushes in to stand beside Grace. Together, they peer down inside the deep, deep grave. Ten feet too deep. "Hold on, Lady Juliet! We're going to get you out of there." The labyrinth shifts rapidly, with Flynn and Grace in the same exact positions. They’re in a room now and it’s significantly blurrier. "Hold on." Flynn is unlatching Juliet from restraints on some kind of table, her nose bloodied and eyes glassy. This version of herself must be only a year or two older than the one they just witnessed. He's shaking her shoulders gently, coaxing her to keep her eyes open. "Easy, easy. You're safe now. We're going to bring you home."

"I've... no desire to return to Amoria. Please, leave me here." Juliet mumbles, faintly shaking her head. "I am... happy here..."

"She's feverish. Still under the effects of..." A lower voice, not Flynn's, says. A shadowed figure, one without a face. There are few others among the search party who speak in low and grave tones. The voices warble out, however, blurring to nonsense alongside her consciousness in that moment.

Juliet, the real one, forgets temporarily that now there are more witnesses now to see her in such a dreadful state. When she does realize this fact, she ashamedly banishes the memory and it gets soaked up into the void of darkness around them. Stop. Stop it. Her cheeks flush red, her head pounding like a heartbeat. It’s too much.

“I wonder if you can survive the labyrinth’s depths?” A voice, Edie’s, sounds older and warped now. It breaks through the silence, echoing around them. “Alfie sent me here, too. He did not like what I had to say. I suppose the same happened to you two?” Faintly, the shape of her can be made out in the darkness. She is also a shadow, but one whose limbs are held back by other shadows— slithery and vine-like and covered in thorns. “He denies the truth. His denial— his belief — it makes him as powerful as a god.” She sighs as if unimpressed by the notion. (Is this an more accurate reflection of the real Edie?) “It is all lies, however. Eventually it will destroy him.” A larger, far more monstrous shadow builds itself high behind her. “And it will destroy us, too.”

 

[starboob]

Willow’s fingers twitch and inch towards Juliet’s, impulsively wanting to offer her comfort after what she’s just witnessed, but one look at the archer’s embarrassment and she’s shoving her hands into her pockets, keeping them tightly balled. (Sefarina’s cold blue eyes and dark hair might be more reminiscent of Kinsley, but the predatory gaze more closely resembles Sabrina.) Her jaw is set tight as swirls of emotions course through her and bleed with memories of her own. Lucky nudges her cheek with their nose and she shrugs, wordlessly insisting she’s fine. (Really, she is.)

But the looming shadow above Edie suggests otherwise, blinking with suddenly bright lit eyes. Red eyes that shine in this chasm. And even if Willow knows they are not real, she avoids staring into them. She shuts her eyes fiercely, turning her cheek from the memory.

“It is all lies, however. Eventually it will destroy him. And it will destroy us, too.”

Yet despite that knowledge and warning, Willow doesn't banish or chase the memory away with a glare. (Even if it could trap them.) If what Edie has said is true, that Alfonse has made himself as powerful as a god, they won’t be able to escape through ordinary means. She has an inkling of what might get them back to him, if she can use the logic of the labyrinth against him. While he might think he’s a god here, and it may be true he’s the most powerful player in this labyrinth, Willow and Juliet have both had their memories pulled up without their volition. They might not be able to summon freaking kraken, but…

Well, what does she really have to lose in trying? She shrugs and surrenders herself to the memory.

Carefully folded and torn pages from a notebook begin to fall all around them like snow. Each one has a message written in tiny neat handwriting not belonging to Willow James.

‘Library. Passing period.’​

‘Under the bleachers. Half time.’

‘Parking lot after school. 45 minutes after the bell.’​

‘Skip drama.’​

As they build up around them in piles, Willow looks to Juliet, not a hint of trepidation or fear in her eyes. They’re hard set and steely. “I’m going to let the labyrinth in. As far as we know, this place runs on associations and I think I can use that to get us back to Alfonse.” She’s about to reach for Juliet’s shoulders, to level with her about potential dangers of this method, but she catches the glint of Sabrina’s gun still in the archer’s hand, eyes widening. Quicker than she’s ever moved, she snatches the gun, puts the safety on, and disappears it into her pouch. “Confiscated!” There’s an entire lecture ready on her lips, but the loud ringing of a school bell violently interrupts her.

Her head whips to the noise and the notes that had been snowing around them jump and spread out, transforming into a checker-tiled floor before her. Then red lockers twist up from the floor to create her high school’s hallway. Faceless students rush past them in blurs while a young Willow, freshly fifteen, sorts through her books by her locker. The only other defined figure struts down from one end of the hallway and the crowd of anonymous students all jump out of way, cowering against their lockers as the girl strides through the halls she owns. When she passes by Willow, who is somehow oblivious to the disruption, the queen bee harshly knocks her against her locker, forcing the young sorceress’s belongings to scatter across the floor.

The teenage queen whips her head around, void-like hair fanning out as she turns her red eyed glare onto Willow. At this same time, Sabrina casually drops a small slip of paper into the pile of her belongings before hissing, “Watch it, loser!”

The chatter of the hallway stills and fills with the sound of a stuttering heart. This young Willow shrinks back, but, upon seeing the folded note scattered amongst her things, she blushes, eagerly reaching for it and tearing it open.

Whatever the contents of that note are left as a mystery.

Willow, the real one, grabs Juliet’s hand and continues in the opposite direction of Sabrina. Her ears burn, however, remembering the ways she used to let herself be treated. Then her heart jerks remembering the woman’s threat the last time she saw her. The memory they’re in starts to shake in response, the sounds of the chimera bleeding through. She stills her thoughts, bringing herself back to this moment. Now is not the time to lament. She steamrolls ahead, leaving the past behind her as she walks through the memory of her high school.

“I just hope I’m right about this,” she mutters under her breath, mostly just to break the silence and awkwardness of revealing that. She makes a left, then a right, and heads up a short flight of stairs until she finds a room marked ‘ART.’ Inside, a young Meredith with a hot pink mullet works at an easel in the empty classroom. She doesn’t turn or notice them and whatever she’s painting is a blur, because Willow only knows that Meredith would have been in the art studio at the time this memory happened. She doesn’t know anything beyond that, but it’s a strong enough anchor that the labyrinth allows her to deviate from what happened into this new territory.

She spins around as she walks into the middle of the classroom, holding her hands up like she’s framing a picture. Lucky tries to prevent Willow from knocking into any of the desks, but it seems unnecessary as Willow simply phases through them, similar to when Juliet attempted to grab the teacakes.

“If I’m right—” She stops, abruptly bringing a finger to her lips to quiet herself. Her eyes narrow, then close as she concentrates on something, though she doesn’t offer a hint as to what exactly she’s searching for.

Her eyes fly open without discernible reason and she points to a blank space in the room. “There. I found him, I think.” Lucky looks at Willow like she’s lost it and the sorceress ignores them. Ever so faintly, another conversation can be heard happening over and around them.

​

“Alfonse, there is not a league or length you can go that shall change my mind.”​

“Penelope! Why can you not see we are meant to be? Why am I the only one with sense in this place!”​

​

Her eyes lock with Juliet's, asking the obvious question. “Now… How do we reach him from here?” Especially considering his tendency to start over when the rejection becomes too difficult to bear. And they that can’t count on him continuing to come back to Penny’s gallery. (Honestly, even this had been a shot in the dark.) More than reaching him, they also have to figure out how to even reason with him. And he’s hardly reasonable. “Edie said his denial and his belief are what makes him powerful here, but even his mind can’t fathom a reality in which Penny takes him back. So he’s not that lost, and, somehow, we have to get him to see what his deep self already knows.” Again, this begs the question, how?

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is little more than a ghost herself, liable to vanish like one of the teacakes from earlier as she trails quietly behind Willow. (The archer hardly reacted when her gun was confiscated from her. Now she clutches her knife in her hand instead. She needs something to defend herself with if she's going to steel herself to the eyes flickering at her from the shadows. Always watching, always waiting. Is Sefarina here? Can she still find her here, in a world between worlds?) Willow hasn't said a word to indicate that she saw anything just then. Nothing to confirm that it was real. Just that she intends to let the labyrinth in. So she... just has to behave as if it hadn't happened. Poised. Shoulders back, chin held high. Lips pressed in a tight, thin line. Is it the labyrinth? It it all in her mind? Is it her? She doesn't know. There is nothing here for her to hold onto except for her knife.

Tensely, the archer follows Willow through the unfamiliar halls. A bell rings with an awful trill and metal beasts line the halls, booming like thunder whenever they're slammed shut. The sounds of several voices mingling is a threatening hum. It is filled with people, reminiscent of a bustling market square. What is this terrible place? Wherever it is, Juliet does not ever want to go. Her fight not to look as confused as she feels twitches through her brown eyes. It is an environment from Evermore, she realizes, as she recognizes Willow James and the woman (now only a girl) she fought at the temple. Her knuckles tingle with the memory of what her face felt like underneath them. And seeing the cruel way she treats Willow, who has done nothing to incite such an attack, she's tempted to punch her once more. (One time is not enough.) That's when Willow's hand closes around her own, reminding her of what's real before she can act on the impulse. She gets a glimpse of the younger sorceress's reaction before she pulls her away.

Juliet pushes desperately back at her confusion as Willow once again bends reality to her will. (How did she...?) It'd be a lie to say it doesn't frighten her a little, the amount of control she seems to wield here. Her magic allows her to simplify the most ordinary things, allows her to push a threat back and wrap them up in chains. In this world, she leads as if she is sure of where she's headed. (A true heroine.) Trampled by her own memories, the archer is exhausted enough to disappear into the wood and let it reclaim her the way it was supposed to all those years ago. Willow is asking her how they reach him she must resist the temptation to fall to pieces. Heroines are supposed to know what to do. But Juliet August was never a heroine. Everyone simply assigned her the role and she's tried (and failed time and time again) to uphold some semblance of it.

Throwing things at destiny doesn't work. Neither does shooting arrows at it. What good can Juliet do, then? How is she meant to keep up? She recalls the Evermore enchantments-- on plates to keep food from spilling over a clumsy hand, on shoes to keep their wearers from falling to the ground, on bags to keep them weightless and easy to carry. The reflexes and strength that Juliet has cultivated through years of survival can be replicated so effortlessly with magic. (Perhaps it would be better to... disappear. Help other from the shadows and stop nonsensically clinging to whatever semblance of a life she had in Amoria.) All she has are her weapons, her aim. And even then, the sorceress had taken the gun from her so easily while her guard was down. Willow is the heroine in this story. Juliet is...

Juliet is drowned someplace beneath her unbroken mask, already broken. A collection of sharp fragments only capable of causing damage to anyone who tries to reach them. She foolishly convinced herself that she was taking destiny into her own hands, wielding it like a weapon in order to reclaim control over her life. But perhaps it's still controlling her, dragging her along by the neck, threatening to strangle her.

"I... I'm sorry." Juliet can't hold still for any longer as the tremor in her hands becomes too violent for her to control. She brings them to the sides of her head as if they might shield her and presses against the horrible, persistent knocking. (It's as if someone is trying to forcibly break her skull open, spilling her thoughts out over the floor like blood from a stab wound.) "I'm sorry. I don't know." She shakes her head, somewhat panicked by the admission. (What is she saying?) But she doesn't. She cannot think of anything that matters in a moment that matters and there's no way to pretend otherwise. There's nothing for her to contribute here. She never should have suggested they do this. "I'm sorry."

When shadows lap at her boots, Juliet doesn't flinch away from them. She's not really there, anyway. She hasn't been for a while. What will it matter if she disappears? What will it matter to anyone? (Folklore needs her, she supposes. They need her arrows. The special ones, anyway. But even those...) Should she even care what happens to them? The dark thought whispers sinisterly. She can leave it all behind, let the chaos they've wrought consume them.

Juliet notices Lucky lunging for her in her peripheral, but it's too late. With a faster and fiercer pull than quicksand, she's dragged even deeper into the labyrinth's depths. She accepts this. (It's fine. Willow will be better off without her.She will think of home, build her staircase out, and return to Evermore. The place where she would rather be... and she will not need to feel obligated to stay by her side any longer.) It's dark and she's no longer afraid. (No one will expect anything from her here. Not anymore.) Faintly, she notices the shape of Edie's figure still tangled amongst shadows. Seeing Juliet there with her, she breathes a sympathetic sigh.

"Alfonse acts as though I clipped his wings by helping Penny fly away. And now he pushes us down as though stomping on our backs will take him high enough to reach her." Edie smooths her hands over Juliet's shoulders, kneading her thumbs in. They're both flickering at the edges-- perhaps a side effect of the labyrinth depths. "What a selfish man he is, putting you through this."

It occurs to Juliet with this display of compassion that she is not speaking with the real Edie. She cannot be. (The fact that she is made of shadows does make this quite obvious, yes. But when she looks even closer... she can tell that this Edie is a part of Alfonse himself.) Willow said before that he is not completely lost. Though he tries, he hasn't gotten rid of Edie yet. So Edie must exist as the last shred of common sense he has left. She represents everything he's afraid of. His guilt, too. 'Edie' calls him a selfish man-- so there must be some part of Alfonse that believes that to be true. (This part. The part that Juliet has come face to face with in the dark. This is the part that they'll need to bring into the light.)

The emptiness in Juliet's brown eyes is replaced with the flickering of an idea. She tugs at the thread that hangs from her chest. It stands straight up, connected to where Willow stands somewhere above her in the labyrinth. She bites her lower lip as she ties it around herself and the shadow Edie. "Willow, stay where you are." She speaks, unsure if her voice will reach her from here... but holding onto their thread, being in this place, she believes it may be possible. (...Belief is a powerful resource here, is it not?) 'Flying' was technically against the other Edie's rules. However... "We still have two more strikes before we're out. Have Lucky try and fly us up to Alfonse."

 

[starboob]

“Juliet!” But by the time Willow and Lucky both dive for the spot where the archer stands, she’s gone, sunken straight through those checkered tiled floors. She’s too late. (Maybe years too late.) And Willow is alone, left with a skinned chin and fists grasped around nothing. (Has she been grasping at nothing this entire time?)

“Why didn’t she wait? We could have figured this out together.” Willow whispers this to herself or maybe to Lucky, confusion tightening a knot in her chest. The dragon trills solemnly in response, resting their head on top of hers, sensing their companion’s distress. “We could have– we could have,” she hiccups, beating her fist weakly into the floor.

Somewhere, Willow knows that this is not about Juliet. Not necessarily. This isn’t about the archer losing her sense or hope or purpose and this isn’t about the archer not leaning on the sorceress for help. This isn’t about that at all, because somewhere Willow knows this has nothing to do with her— that Juliet’s reaction just then had been about something else. She knows her question had been innocent and only acted as a catalyst or the final straw for whatever might have been going on within her companion. And Juliet’s always been closed off. So for Willow to expect her to open up is nonsensical when the other has rarely, if ever, shown such an openness or willingness to be open.

And yet, the part of Willow who exists in this memory, both the present and the past, who lies on the floor, defeated and teary eyed, has not yet caught up to what she knows within her own deep self. It doesn’t help, either, that a second later the desks in the classroom rearrange themselves, Meredith and her easel disappear in smoke, and Willow is righted so that she’s standing. And now that she’s standing, she finds herself suddenly face to face with Sabrina Stake.

Her heartbeat thumps in her ears, a mixture of fear and excitement both, while the other girl, a few years older, sneers at her. “We could have– we could have– Oh, you can’t seriously think that we were ever a thing. Don’t tell me you’re that desperate and pathetic, James.”

“I…” Willow shrinks back, caught in the loop of the memory that’s pulled itself into the labyrinth. She fidgets with her hands, one hand digging her fingernails into the knuckles of the other. Her voice is quiet and shaking, but she still manages to blurt out, “I–I mean, you–you said you loved me.”

“What’s love got to do with anything? I love my snake, my car, my clothes, but none of those mean anything to me.” Her full lips turn into a cruel smirk. “Just like you.”

‘This isn’t right.’ Not just because no one should ever say those words to another, but because it feels so much like déjà vu that she’s almost certain this has happened to her already.

Sabrina leans forward, however, distracting the sorceress. The figment from her past pins her against classroom cabinets with her hips, one arm resting above Willow’s head while the other plays with one of her curls. “You’re cute, James, I’ll give you that. But you’ll be lucky if anyone else ever gives you attention like me, because outside of that, you really don’t bring anything to the table. At least nothing that I haven’t already sampled.” She smirks, then pushes against Willow’s shoulder, slamming her just slightly into the cabinets, before she removes herself from her and takes her leave. “Tell anyone about anything that happened between us and I’ll make your life hell.”

The senior girl swings open the classroom door at the same time another student outside had just reached for the handle. Sabrina shoots them a glare, but the student doesn’t budge, apparently disaffected by the other and both just slide past each other. As Sabrina leaves and the student enters the classroom, their face shifts several times as Willow’s mind tries to place them. Griffith. Conrad. Meredith. Griffith, again. The face settles on Griffith (and yet something about him isn’t like Griffith at all). “Sorry I’m late.”

It’s jarring to hear him apologize, because Willow can’t think of a version of him that would apologize, and while she knows she doesn’t know him well, this sticks out to her. Enough that it jostles her memory, reminding her that she’s not in high school anymore. She’s not in Evermore. She’s in the Afterglow and she’s here with Juliet. Or she was.

Remembering this, Willow recalls the moments that led to herself slipping back into a memory, recalls the nature of the labyrinth and steels herself. She glares at the image of Griffith, shooing him away with ease. (If only it were that easy in real life.) While there still are concerns regarding Juliet and the eventual, impending collapse of this labyrinth if the resident walnut (super walnut?) doesn’t pull himself together, she knows better than to move. Thus far, the labyrinth scenes have essentially moved and changed around them, like sets on a stage. (A tilted stage.)

In the next moment, without needing to wait long after finding herself again, she feels a tug on her thread and spies it shooting down through the floor beneath her feet. The echo of Juliet’s voice carries over the string, like tin can telephones, to reach her and while she doesn’t hear the words, she understands the message. Stay. As well as fly. Willow wipes the tears from her eyes and searches around for Lucky.

Lucky, who had been veiled when the memory of Sabrina stepped forward, now stamps their feet excitedly next to Willow, also having understood Juliet’s message. They grow large enough to support two passengers for a short flight and bend down to allow Willow to take her seat.

Though she knows better than to waste time, she doesn't follow the archer's suggestion just yet. There's something else she needs to do before they continue. She holds her finger up to Lucky to indicate a pause and instead asks the dragon for help lifting Juliet back up to her level. They nod and, together, Willow and Lucky both work to hoist the archer up from where she sank. (It’s mostly Lucky, but they leave enough slack to allow Willow to train.) When Juliet is through the floor, with shadow Edie tied to their thread, Willow approaches the archer, mostly ignoring the figment of the countess.

She tilts her head a bit, staring intently into Juliet’s warm brown eyes. It takes her a second or two to find her words and another second to work the nerve to say them, still shaken from reliving that memory of Sabrina. (The first bad thing to happen on what would come to be the worst day of her life.)

“Juliet. “ Her voice is as soft and gentle as she is. She takes another small step forward, pulling her mouth to the side. “It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. You don’t have to have all the answers all the time. I certainly don’t.” She shrugs, like it’s casual (because it is). “I don’t know what’s going to happen either and that scares me. But knowing you’re here with me gives me the courage to try, because I’m not alone." Part of her wants to leave it at that, too embarrassed to offer her own support to the archer. What even is the value in one Willow James, heroine in training? (Sometimes, even, a wannabe.) 'A lot more than nothing,' she tells herself.

With that affirmation, she shakes off those fears and presses on, saying exactly what she wants. "You’re not alone either. If you want to lean on me, I’m here. So is Lucky.” Lucky huffs in the affirmative and Willow grins over her shoulder at the goodest dragon. “See. We’re here for you, if you want that. All you need to do is ask.”

Willow holds Juliet’s gaze for a few more seconds, wanting to make sure the message settles and that she understands she’s being earnest. Once she’s sure she’s at least been heard, she steps back and moves towards her dragon. “You ready-edy?” Then she grins at the shadow Edie. “Ready, Edie?”

 

[ellarose]

Willow stares at Juliet, tilting her head. Juliet stares back at her, mirroring the head tilt. (Why... why did she bring her here? Why is she waiting? Her heart flutters as she holds the questions between her teeth. She knows there's something wrong with me.) Winds both restless and apprehensive rise inside of her chest as the sorceress speaks, making it apparent that she senses the storm's presence now. Even though she picked up all her pieces and hastily put them back together, even though it doesn't show through fidgeting hands or a wavering expression, the weakness in her inside of her is still there. (She carries it with her, she always will.) There's no reversing it now that she's slipped and cracked. No going back to the sure and stable version of Juliet August that Willow knew before. The one she might have preferred is dead and gone. And standing in her place is...

'You're not alone.' An ethereal halo of golden light surrounds Willow and spirals around their thread. It emits a summer sun warmth that Juliet is drawn to, as if she's been locked out in an eternal winter for years. (Wouldn't it be nice? To lean on someone? To know with certainty that she can rest without wondering whether or not she'll be hurt the moment she lets her guard down?) The cautious voice in her head reminds her that she's been tempted out of her shell by lights like this before. And she's been burned. Willow asks if she's ready and Juliet still hasn't caught up to her yet. She may as well be wounded, limping and slow.

The labyrinth shifts into a bedroom. To be more specific, it's Juliet's bedroom in the August household. While it looked tidied and overall undisturbed during their recent visits, blankets and books are strewn haphazardly over the plush carpeted floor.

"You asked what was troubling me." A seventeen year old Juliet's brown eyes flash, her shield lowered to reveal the pained frustration underneath. "I am trying to tell you. If you would only listen--"

"No. You must stop telling these nonsensical tales." Mother's voice is tight, her back to them and the younger Juliet. "You are behaving as a child would, inventing these... these stories. I will not hear another word of them."

Mother storms out and the door slams shut behind her. Juliet bolts from where she stands, hurriedly reaching for the knob and attempting to turn it. It doesn't budge, clicking in protest against her hand. Locked. She pushes against it desperately. No, no, no. All around her, the shadows cast by the furniture stretch wide and long. Unfeeling eyes peer up at her.

'These may be more than just stories, Lady August.' A muffled conversation can be heard through the closed door between Brooks and her mother. 'You mean to tell me you believe in the nonsense she's been spouting? She called you a monster.' Nonsense. But it wasn't nonsense. 'No, that is hardly the case. What I mean to say is that I think we should call a doctor. Our Juliet is unwell. Perhaps she... contracted something in the wood. Worry not. I will personally see to it that she is given the care she needs.'

The figment of Juliet backs away from the door as if it burned her, wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. A moment later, the doors to her bedroom are cast wide open and the Juliet inside is held still while being made to inhale a substance from a tiny glass vial. Her limbs go slack, her eyes unfocused. Sedated. Just the way they all preferred her, just a body with the soul chased out of it.

The scene blurs as Juliet's memory slips. The last thing she hears is Brooks, who rubs her shoulders and whispers sweet nothings into her ear as she drifts off. She hadn't possessed the strength to push him away back then... but the present Juliet steps forward and punches him in the face, watching with satisfaction as he fades away. Soon, the rest of the memory follows him into oblivion. Again. The depths are preying on her again. Shadows lap at Juliet's ankles, but this time she kicks them away before they can drag her further down. Fire leaps to life inside of her chest, reignited by the sight of her own helplessness. Things have changed since then. She has changed since then.

Even so, Juliet doesn't wish to stay here any longer. From the depths even the most minuscule of thoughts or feelings can be picked apart and unraveled right in front of their eyes. She does not need to see any more of her life on display to remind herself of what she's doing or why she's doing it. (It used to be worse. She has come so far from that moment. Now she at least possesses control over her own body. Control over her decisions, over where she goes and stays.) While she cannot control the course of life itself-- she is not nearly as powerful as a god-- she can master some control over herself. Breathe, Juliet. Focus.

"...Right. It's unstable here. We need to go." Juliet shuffles, somewhat awkward and ashamed in spite of her renewed resolve. She doesn't know how to acknowledge Willow's words before and so she doesn't. If they speak on the matter later, should they make it out alive, she supposes that she may be better prepared to talk about it then.

"How splendid." The shadow Edie clasps her hands together, delighted as she looks upon Lucky. "I have always wanted to fly. Penny always made it sound most fascinating."

Juliet doesn't question this until they're flying and the labyrinth shivers and shudders around them. (...Did Edie and Penny speak with each other beyond what they saw in the stables?) A rain of paper begins to fall as voices echo around them in a vortex.

"What is this, Edie?" Alfonse asks. He's toeing a line between outrage and panic. "What am I looking at?"

"...It is merely a letter from a good friend of mine. Why do you have it? You are not a little boy anymore. You should know better than to rummage through my personal belongings."

"If you are to be my wife, Edie, you and all of your belongings shall belong to me." Alfonse says coldly. The hair on the back of Juliet's neck stands up and her stomach curdles. "Now I demand an answer. Why do you have a letter from Penelope?" Letters float in the air around them, then. Long, beautifully scripted letters... drawings much like the ones in Penny's book as well. "Why do you have these drawings?"

"We've been in correspondence since she left. I am quite interested in her work." Edie replies, her own voice tight and defensive. "I ask if I may see her drawings from time to time and she sends them to me."

"No." Alfonse denies harshly. "You only pretended to take an interest in her work. You did so in order to send her away from me!"

"That is simply untrue. I believe her work is truly fascinating. I send her words of encouragement not to give up, even as her experiments fail." The letters spin in a whirlwind behind them, then, pushing them higher at a faster rate. "...You've heard no news of her recent projects, have you? She tells me that you've not even written her once." Then, quietly, she adds. "She must wonder whether you are the one who pretended to take interest in her work."

"Her experiments are failing?" That is what he latches onto.

"...Why do you say that as if it is a good thing? Alfonse?"

"I will go to her. I will comfort her." Alfonse details his plan. (Finding excitement in Penelope's failings, in the opportunity it seems to create for him. Ugh. He is indeed worse than a walnut.) "She will leave her disappointing new life behind and return to Amoria to make a new life with me."

"...What? What are you saying? Her life is far from disappointing." Edie says, audibly confused. "Have you even read the letters?"

There's the sound of a door slamming and the shadow Edie sighs, sounding thoroughly exhausted. Juliet is right there with her.

In a flash, they're standing at the port as Alfonse readies to board his ship overseas. Back up to where they were before... and he hasn't noticed that they've returned yet. (It seems the cycle has been continuing on like this since they left. The man is certainly... persistent. Unacceptably so. He needs to learn to take no for an answer.) Juliet tilts her head, looking from Edie to Willow. Something in her flinches, still vulnerable from... everything that transpired before. But she steels herself against it in order to see this through. She's not going to be responsible for dragging them down again. The archer tilts her head, indicating Alfonse with his back to them. "...Sneak attack?" While she is still a bit confused, she does try to contribute as she keeps in mind everything she's learned of labyrinths thus far. "If we tried to change the course of events with our thoughts, do you think he would notice right away?" She bites her lip. "...Perhaps if we only changed it subtly it would work?"