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

[ellarose]

A constant thump, thump, thump accompanies the blood roaring in Elise's ears. (Is it the sound of her beating heart or King Cayman's footsteps?) The princess presses herself in the corner between her bed and the wall, curling up into a ball the same way the hedgehogs in the gardens do when they're frightened. If only she possessed a spine sharp enough to keep predators away! She might have given herself such spikes if she were currently in a form which allowed her to do so. It was freeing, to change at will in the Midnight Mountains. To make all those terrible trolls lose their wits and quiver in fear. Now she is completely defenseless... and even if she did possess some means of defending herself, she's immobilized by terror. The one who killed father... she's heard the rumors. Of course she has. It could have been Cayman.

Elise's mind flashes bloodstains on a plush, floral carpet and then--

Splotches of blazing light filter through the memories, burning through Elise's eyelids. They draw her attention away from the past. Is it the brightness of torches through the snow? Or, perhaps...

"Lucky!" Elise gasps, opening her eyes wide. She'll have to commend Willow James on her choice for the dragon's name later, as she is indeed quite lucky that they made it here when they did. No longer alone, she finds herself emboldened enough to rise, albeit shakily, using the wall to hold herself steady. She presses the bunched fabric of her dress against her thighs as she shuffles out of her narrow hiding spot and dashes to the window. The princess stops just short of it, slowing her steps as she brings herself closer to the wall, allowing herself the slightest sliver to peek through as not to draw her pursuer's attention.

Goodness gracious. Elise spots Lucky. A part of them, anyway. Enormous scales are wrapped around the tower to the point where she cannot tell precisely which part of the dragon she's looking at. If she had to guess, it's one of their legs? The end of their tail flicks at the very bottom of the tower, trying to swat the approaching king away like a fly. Cayman takes the form of a shadow and dodges faster than any man should, working his way around the tower to the point that she can no longer see him from the window. The entrance.

The dastardly king is headed for the entrance. Judging by the way he just moved, he'll be there soon. Elise shivers. What will he turn her into, she wonders. A dove white enough to blend in with the falling snow? A fish, perhaps, left to suffocate without water on the tower floor? Fear almost unravels her, stitch by stitch... and she looks to the diamond planks barring the entrance of her tower. Her gaze flicks up to the curtain rod above it.

Elise yanks the curtains. Hard. The rod falls and hits the stone floor with a clang! She teeters to and fro as she lifts it, tests the weight in her hands. While it's got some heft to it, she doesn't bother pulling the curtains off. There's no time. She lifts it like a warrior with a spear and thrusts it at that dreadful, diamond patterned window. It shudders. Again. It does very little. Tears prick at her eyes. Again. Harder this time. Again. A crack. (The door to her tower room is shaking on it's hinges.) Once more!

At last, the diamonds splinter away, leaving an opening wide enough for a princess to climb through. Elise doesn't wait to catch her breath as she leans out, practically stumbling over onto the windowsill.

"Lucky, I'm coming out!" Elise warns. She would rather jump, put her life in Lucky James's claws, than face the likes of King Cayman. She leaps over the edge, her heart and stomach dropping with her... and before long, she lands on Lucky. "Oh! Oh my goodness." She hugs onto them tightly, though it's difficult to find purchase. The snow has made their scales slippery and the princess cries out as she starts to slide down the length of the dragon's winding body.

***​

Juliet cannot bear to leave Willow alone with anyone right now. Prince Ivory offered when they emerged from the dungeons to find a suspiciously empty castle hall... but after everything that's happened, she cannot bring herself to trust anyone. Despite all she knows, Prince Ivory is still a friend to Prince Bain and Prince Devlin. If either of them were to come back and find him with her, would he be so bold as to go directly against their wishes? Or... it's the or that she's worried about.

Bringing Willow into battle in her current state isn't much better... but it's Juliet's only option. Especially after she learns that Lucky took off towards Princess Elise's tower. For the dragon to have left their companion in the castle, something especially dire must have occurred to draw them there. This is evident when Peaches finds them, squeaking and flailing frantically. While Juliet does not speak her language of squeaks, it tells her everything she needs to know. Lucky needs her... just as Willow does. She must try to be there for the both of them as they were there for her. After all... Lara found her when she was young, managed to take care of them both for long enough to help Juliet get back on her feet again. It can be done.

As a precaution, Juliet uses their thread to secure Willow to her, ensuring she won't slip from Grace's back if she happens to doze off again. The warmth of her body pressed against her is... is... it's a welcome comfort, seeing as she's braving the winter storm yet again.

Grace takes to the skies and they speed towards the tower with great haste. Juliet stares with awe when they're close enough to see the misty silhouette of an enormous Lucky wrapped around the tower. Just below them is a sea of torchlight, an army's worth of guards with Queen Viviane, Prince Devlin and Prince Bain stationed near the front. With all the commotion, they've yet to notice her. Sensing their advantage, the fiery glow of Grace's wings snuffs out.

Juliet does not approach the gathered mob below, cautious of the sky princes among others who might be carrying that blasted medicine... but she's close enough to hear their shouts and cries that the ferocious dragon is attacking the princess. These horrified screams grow louder as Elise throws herself out the window... and build even louder yet when Lucky moves. Some of the guards flinch or stumble backwards and fall on their sorry arses.

Juliet is calm because she knows better. They are only doing this to adjust, to prevent Princess Elise from falling to her death. They are trying to save her. But... what from?

Those people down below might think the princess bewitched or some such nonsense... Juliet knows it has to be something else. She instructs Grace to fly closer and from her high vantage point, she's able to see the inside of the tower. King Cayman's vague, shadowed figure comes into view, furiously examining the hole in the window. Oh. Oh.

"Hold me steady, Gracie." Juliet says, reaching behind her for an arrow. She narrows her eyes and raises her bow, nocking the arrow and aiming for King Cayman's heart. (He deserves this, after what he did to Willow.) She pulls back and releases, letting it fly.

Thunk. Juliet hits her mark. She tilts her head curiously, interested to see with her own eyes what happens next.The arrow sticks out of his chest, but King Cayman does not react. He merely looks down at the arrow if it is no more than a splinter. (Even an arrow to the heart cannot kill him. So it's just as the stories say... what is he?) He glares at Juliet when he realize's she's the source of the arrow, yanking it out and snapping it in half.

Unflinchingly, Juliet nocks a second arrow and this time aims for his head.

 

[starboob]

Willow shivers against Juliet’s back. She squishes her cheek between her shoulder blades, then buries her nose there in an attempt to defend herself against the frigid winds. She’s a quiet passenger and does not complain or even question where they are going. Truthfully, she doesn’t have the mental faculties to even suspect that something is amiss. So much of her mind is still fighting through that inhaled mist that she’s barely aware of reality. All she knows for certain is that she’s cold and she wishes Grace would turn her wings back on, because that at least gave herself a small amount of warmth.

Though she has not fallen back under since Lucky’s second screech, she also hasn’t observed much of where they’re going or even tried to figure out why Juliet is so tense. She can feel the archer shifting around so that she can properly knock her bow, but, again, Willow doesn’t think much of this. Juliet is the archer. This makes sense.

What doesn’t make sense?

The dots of orange that brighten the sheets of snow below them. It takes another minute for Willow to connect the dots of orange to torches and torches to a sea of guards led by Queen Viviane and the two sky princes. This does not disturb her. Her eyes travel over the small army, searching for the other princes and squires she knows as if this is some gathering for a party. (A tea party, she hopes. That will warm her right up.) As she becomes more aware of her surroundings, she starts to hear the shouts from below—something about a dragon attacking the princess?

That’s when Willow looks up and notices Lucky. “Oi, my dragon would never,” she mutters into her scarf, offended that anyone would accuse her companion of attacking a princess! Least of all Princess Eli—wait a minute.

Willow blinks. Juliet’s second arrow flies through air and hits the center of Cayman’s forehead. He doesn’t fall over, but he does step out of view from the tower’s single window. (For now.) Lucky, meanwhile, works on helping Princess Elise slide back towards their body, lifting up their leg so that she falls into the crook between the joint and their belly. Elise can’t do much aside from try to wedge herself firmly into place while Lucky tries to figure out what to do next. They seem concerned to move, having heard the fear in the guards’ accusations and wanting to prove that they are a good dragon. (The goodest, even.) So they move slowly, deliberately, trying to help angle themselves so that it’s easier for Elise to climb up to their back where she will at least have their spikes to wedge herself between and hold onto. The climb is not easy for the princess. A combination of ice slicking the dragon’s scales and Elise’s own hands growing numb cause her to slip more than a few times and Lucky is always there to catch her at just the right moment.

Though it’s obvious that the princess is not disturbed by the presence of the dragon and is clearly trying to climb onto their (majestic) back, the shinies do not understand this. They charge Lucky with their weapons ready and aim attacks at their tail. Lucky merely lifts their tail out of reach. The guards do not let this stop them and, rather than change their strategy, a few try to scale the smooth surface of the tower and others try to stack on top of each other to reach the tail. (Are they hexed or is this Amoria’s finest?)

While the guards keep Lucky occupied, the two winged princes seize the opportunity and take to the skies, deciding to play hero. (Or that is the intention.) Prince Bain dives towards Lucky’s throat while Prince Devlin aims to sweep Princess Elise into his arms, but neither of them even make it within range of their targets. Lucky spots the two pastel objects from their periphery and is quick to beat their wings with enough force that it sends them tumbling through the skies and even snuffs out the shinies' torches.

Elise bites her lip, poorly hiding her amusement. (Willow doesn’t know any better and laughs out loud.) Unfortunately, her amusement is short lived. Color drains from her face despite the freezing temperature. Her blue eyes are wide as saucers and her lower lip quivers as she stares straight into the palm of King Cayman's dismembered hand. (The rest of him must still be hiding in the tower.) The eye at the center is a sickly bright green with hints of searing yellow. It's everything she has ever heard and worse.

The princess freezes. All she can do is shut her eyes tight and hope that the transformation will be painless. But the flash of sparks never come. In the moment she expects to lose herself, there is dampened thud, like a finger piercing sand, and when she dares to look, King Cayman's hand is recoiling back inside the tower. She even thinks she hears him howl, but the blood rush in ears prevents her from being certain.

When the king's shriek reaches Lucky, their neck snaps to look first at their startled passenger then at the tower. Smoke flares from their nostrils. How dare. With an earth-rupturing roar, the dragon squeeze then crushes the tower with their tail, sending it and the king within toppling over.

 

[ellarose]

Flying across Folklore's sky, the clomping sound of horse hooves pursuing them grow softer and softer until they're overtaken by the whistling wind in their ears. The heroines, the princess and their companions are lost to the mist and snow. They must be prepared for anything, but Juliet is certain now that they'll escape. The kingdom will need to regroup and organize before sending a proper search party for Princess Elise. There's the bitter winter weather to consider, the fact that the esteemed castle guards have been reduced to Prince Devlin's foolish meat puppets, and the fact that they can only follow them so far on horseback as the dragon and winged fox soar over icy foothills, snow-capped village homes and finally great canyons with scattered waterfalls. An hour passes and a clear blue sky appears through the parting clouds. Golden ladders of sunlight shine through, cutting through the fog and revealing their surroundings in finer detail.

Princess Elise gasps with wonder. Juliet notices that the waterfalls have been completely frozen over, the water unmoving and sparkling in the light. They resemble diamond wedding veils draped over the rocks. Have they really saved Princess Elise... or have they just left Amoria in shambles? The imagery of the fallen tower flashes in her mind. She almost blames herself. Because whenever something gets broken...

Juliet pinches the inside of her wrist. Stop it. That tower deserved to fall. And she is not the one who left kingdom in shambles. It was Prince Devlin and his scheming, King Cayman's attack on the princess, Queen Viviane allowing the likes of him through the castle gates in the first place... and so many other factors. All of it was beyond her control. The way the people talk, the way they write and spread their gossip, it's like they all believe Juliet possesses more control over Folklore's narrative than she actually does. Always pointing their fingers and never looking within. Acting like she's the one to blame, vilifying everyone who gets close to her. Millie, Willow, and... and...

It's getting warmer. It's getting hot. When sweat begins to slick the back of Juliet's neck, she tugs her scarf off and fans herself with the end of it. Life is rapidly breathed back into the waterfalls as they thaw and cascade freely over the rocks. It's a rare ability to look inside oneself, confront those things and move forward. By guiding powerful people into labyrinths, she challenges them to do just that. The archer does not view herself as a pure saint exacting her justice on the world. This work is dangerous, her hands are dirty. She had to claw her way out of the belly of the beast she'd been swallowed by... how could anyone expect her to come out of that clean?

Guilt wraps around her heart, like the thread tethering Willow to her now. It's always there, tightening with every passing minute they spend together. It's only a matter of time before... well. When Juliet's alone again, at least this time she'll have done something to earn it. When fondness turns to hatred she'll feel entitled to it.

"...Do you know where we're going?" Princess Elise asks across the way, breaking Juliet from her reverie. The princess has since found a comfortable position on Lucky's back, leaning this way and that as she takes in their surroundings with wide, wonder-filled eyes. She doesn't sound particularly concerned, as if she'd be content to meander aimlessly for hours.

"Yes. I know someone who lives around here. Someone we can trust... for a price." Juliet says, peering down below at the terrain to ensure they are still going in that direction. They're going to visit Nessa, Millie's cousin. Like Millie, she'll prefer to go by an alias. "Nettle... fred. Nettlefred."

***​

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nettlefred." Princess Elise curtsies. "You have a beautiful home. I've never seen anything quite like it." They stand before a small, dome-shaped abode that strangely resembles a puffer fish. Blue planks stick out at haphazard angles and a fishing net is cast over the side. A wooden boat overflowing with a copious amount of sea glass sits in the yard. The walkway is made entirely of pastel sea glass and a soft breeze sounds the numerous sea glass wind chimes hanging up in the trees. Sea glass hangs from the handmade earrings on Nessa ('Nettlefred's') ears. She resembles Millie in the face. They have the same freckled nose. However, Nessa eyes are a calm and serious blue. Her hair hangs in a rope of a limp braid that nearly reaches the floor.

"...Am I a joke to you?" Nessa asks, raising a skeptical brow at Juliet before glancing between her and the princess. Juliet shrugs, unsure of what more she could have wanted. Nettlefred's a fine name, isn't it? Unique, like Scaramouch. Ultimately sensing no ill will from either of them, she sighs and waves them inside. "Yes, yes. It's a pleasure. Come in, I suppose." She nods at Lucky respectfully. "You must be the great and powerful Lucifer. I've heard much about you."

Seeing this, Princess Elise smiles fondly at Lucky and cannot help but praise the dragon who saved her life today. "They are truly magnificent, aren't they?"

Once they've carried the sleeping Willow into the spare room to get some much-needed rest, they talk over tea on the terrace as to what to do next. Juliet addresses her intentions to return to Evermore with Willow, assuring Princess Elise that she is not being abandoned. There is something they can do there to help her should some conditions be met... should Dorothea wish to escape as well. For now, Princess Elise will remain in hiding here with Nessa. Nettlefred.

"Rest assured, I will repay you for allowing me to stay here." Princess Elise says, bowing her head humbly. "I will do whatever I can to help out around the house, too."

"Money doesn't interest me." Nessa squints, looking her up and down. "What can you do? Cook? Clean? Fish?"

"...I'm a fast learner?" Princess Elise offers sheepishly, biting her lower lip. "I promise I'll do my best not to become a burden. And if I may ask, what is it that you wish to receive in return?"

"Sea glass." Nessa says, raising her arms. Juliet nods with a sigh. (Millie constantly has her collecting sea glass on errands in part for this reason. A lot of it ends up in Nessa's hands-- her preferred currency for favors and the like.) It's embedded in the walls and on the side of the house. The table they sit at now is an elaborate mosaic of sea glass... and so are the teacups in their hands. Sea glass sculptures and lights clutter the inside of her tiny home. Unlike Millie, Nessa prefers to keep her space small. As the home of a sea witch, though, Juliet senses secrets hidden right beneath her feet as she walks through it.

"I see." Princess Elise nods, putting this together. She looks sincerely fascinated. "Then I will see to it that you receive all the sea glass you could ever want. I have a beautiful collection from Okeanos." She leans forward enthusiastically. "Are you an artist, Nettlefred? Did you design this table, for instance?"

"I suppose you could say I have an artistic eye. It runs in my family." There's a familiar glint in Nessa's eyes. Oh no. Princess Elise appears more than eager listen, though, so perhaps they'll get along just fine. Juliet doesn't have the patience for this. She rises, offering to collect all of their empty tea cups as an excuse to get out of there. "Indeed, I made everything you see here with my own two hands..."

***​

"Ah, Willow! You're awake. Thank goodness." Princess Elise notices when the sorceress stirs a few hours later, sitting on the adjacent twin-sized bed in the spare room. "How are you feeling?" She's since heard from Juliet that Willow was quite out of sorts thanks to that wretched Prince Devlin's scheme. "We're in Nettlefred's cottage. Have you met her on your travels before? She's truly a fascinating individual. She just sailed off on her boat to 'fish us some supper'." She smiles, curling her legs to her chest and reaching for her bare toes. She's since changed into one of Nettlefred's simple blue frocks, with short sleeves due to the summer-like heat. It's much more comfortable than the silks she was wearing before. "We're planning to eat dinner out on the terrace as the sun goes down. Apparently the sunsets here are just lovely."

At the end of Willow's bed, all three of their companions are cuddled together in a heap as they sleep, snoring softly. They've been through a lot today. Grace is squished between Lucky and Peaches, far too exhausted to bother with shaking them off of her. They're all so happy she's returned after all this time.

"Juliet will be back. She went out to search for a gateway." Elise nods thoughtfully. "I think she wishes to return to Evermore with you, after everything that has happened... and I cannot blame her. However, she says I cannot go with you. Not yet, anyway." Something like fear passes over her features for a split second, but she tries to smooth over it with a smile. "Was she telling the truth, Willow? Or is she... is she perhaps trying to avoid me?"

 

[starboob]

Whatever ounce of energy Willow had, it fast leaves her following the excitement of the tower toppling over. She had whooped and hollered, again not knowing any better, then soon passed out against Juliet’s back, going entirely slack. With the potion also still working through her system, it was only a matter of time before it wrested control from her and yanked her back under. (A shame, because Willow would have liked to see more of Amoria from the skies.) Though her sleep appears restful and though she never moves, it is anything but. It’s not nightmares or sleep paralysis demons that haunt her, but fighting through the spell that exhausts her despite the hours and hours she spends asleep.

When she first breaks through the surface of the mist, cold sweat bathes her. The last dregs of the potion still try to demand their control over her mental faculties, but the mist is not as thick as before and seeing her way through it is not as difficult as it once had been. Her finger twitches first. She attempts a deep breath next and is slogged down by the effort it takes to simply remember how to take such a breath. Her brow twitches, a small groan fleeing from the back of her throat. ‘Come… Come on, WJ.’

At first, nothing happens. Her chest stops its rise and fall and she seems to stiffen. Then, with one massive heft for air, she breaks through the surface and the weight keeping her eyes closed lifts. They open only a sliver, left over exhaustion still insisting that she let herself fall back under, but she knows better than to give in and forces them open, taking in the room. A room that is very much not the infirmary that Juliet and herself have been occupying for the last couple of days. The last thing she remembers is Prince Bain—

Eyes wide, she bolts upright, heart pounding in her chest. This only sends the foreign room spinning and awakens all of the aches she has somehow accumulated since being potioned up. Even so, she knows to be fast and grasps at the sheets, trying to ease herself onto her feet, but the sound of Dorothea’s voice stops her. She blinks, then pans over to her. Elise. Not Dorothea, obviously, because she’s still in Folklore. Internally, she smacks her forehead.

While Elise explains some, Willow takes in the room they’re both in, admiring the seaglass cobbled over the entire interior of this room. (Wait until the sorceress sees the rest of this place.) As her alarm dissipates, she also recognizes the familiar sound of ocean waves lapping over each other before they hit the shore and the salt air that always brings her back home, regardless of where she is. She takes in a breath, savoring it.

In response to Elise’s first question, she wiggles her hand in shaky motion. “Been better. Feel like I had a sack of bricks dumped over me or something.” She rubs her forehead, finally leaning back against the wall and noticing the piled up companions at her feet. (She can tell that Lucky is not sleeping and she knows they’re only pretending because Grace never wants to cuddle.) “Do I even want to ask what happened?” Like, to go from being in Amoria to here, wherever here is, with the princess, she has more than a few concerns. Vaguely, she knows she dreamed of Lucky going titanic, but there’s no way they would have broken Elise out of her tower on their own volition. Right?

As she registers the name of whose home this is, Willow has to wonder if there is a relationship to Milfred. It does seem like a name Juliet would come up with if she weren’t putting too much thought into thinking of an alias. Either way, if this is where Juliet brought them, then she trusts this Nettlefred. “I don’t even think I’ve heard of Nettlefred before. Our travels have mostly been within Amoria, Okeanos, and some parts of the wood.”

Willow stretches her arms over her head, letting out a healthy yawn as Elise informs of where Juliet has gone off to and her arms almost immediately drop when she finds out. Evermore? Juliet wishes to return there with her? Her heart gallops in her chest, sparks fly around her invisible string as she considers the implications of what this could mean. (Does she want to continue working together? Does she wish to stay by Willow’s side?) Elise and even Lavinia have noticed that there is something between them and they certainly know Juliet better than Willow, given that they basically grew up with her. Things have been going well between them, too—Willow certainly feels closer to her and she’s noticed the way Juliet blushes around her. Maybe it’s not all in her head?

Or maybe, she should consider that Juliet has just been attacked by royals, yet again, and is probably just fed up with their bull.

Still, her eyes follow her thread, filling with hope. (Elise takes note of this and smiles to herself.)

Remembering that Elise is in the room with her, she blushes and snaps back to her last question. “Well, the gateways are finicky and they no longer work as they once did. Even fifty years ago, things were different. Back then, people could still travel pretty easily between realms if they were interested.” But they weren’t. She’s not sure when exactly the sister realms became so divided, but she reckons it was sometime after the war. “I got lucky slipping through the one I found and that one’s been ruined since.”

“And, see, even if we find one, there’s not even the guarantee that we can make it through. Some gateways are just ghosts now.” Or pixie and fae tricks. More than that, some studies in Evermore suggest that not everyone can pass through the gateways anymore. So it’s not just a matter of finding a working one. It’s possible that Elise won’t be able to pass through. “If you wish to cross over to Evermore, the surest way is by swapping places with your parallel twin.”

Elise leans in, wordlessly inviting Willow to explain and, to the best of her abilities, she does. “Yours is a famous singer and actress. Her name is Dorothea Birdsong and I actually know her.” She blushes, considering the nature of her past with the singer. “Um, anyway, her situation is a bit similar to yours. Except, rather than be tied to a Flynn Everson type, she’s tied to a… Devlin or Bain or Brooks type.” The horror if it turns out that Griffith somehow has parallel triplets. She does not want to tempt the fates by considering that. “Their wedding is soon. It’s supposed to happen at the end of summer and she’s… She’s contracted some sort of illness? Curse? I’m not really sure what it is.” Though she has her suspicions that it is related to her relationship with Griffith. “If you two traded places, I think it could help you both.”

She pauses for a moment, considering something else that Elise said. “If I may ask… What reason does Juliet have to avoid you?” It seems odd that Elise would think that when Juliet’s gone through so much to protect her wishes.

 

[ellarose]

"Why, I never knew I had a twin. I am greatly sorry to hear of her circumstances and her curse." Elise hums thoughtfully after receiving an explanation, her expression softening with concern as she considers it. She glances from her toes to Willow. "Do you suppose someone tampered with her thread of fate? It is extremely rare, but not unheard of. Beyond the hexed scissors, those well versed in such magics can create imitations. I would call them illusions, but it's not quite that simple." She presses her lips together. "These casters are puppeteers of sorts. Binding false threads to those they wish to manipulate with love. Has... has Juliet ever told you about it? She would know more than I on the subject."

The princess shivers. Even still, she can vividly recall how it felt to lose control of her limbs like a puppet herself. Her thoughts and her perception of time slipped away as she danced in Prince Devlin's arms. His royal gift... it is not right. As a future king, such a malevolent gift grants him far too much power over his people. It disturbs the balance in Folklore in a way she cannot fathom the fates allowing. The good fairies who bless newborn princes and princesses refuse to gift them such sinister magic as a rule. They insist humans are not responsible enough to wield it wisely... and Elise cannot blame them for thinking that way. They are exactly right. Just look at what has just become of Amoria because of it! She wonders just where Prince Devlin's foul magic came from. Perhaps from the same place that King Cayman's did? She shivers again. So much has happened today.

"I think I did overhear a meeting once regarding connections with the other side. I was still just a girl, however, and had trouble following what was said. I've extensively studied the history of the kingdoms, accounting, trading, battlefield medicine, public speaking, magic..." Elise purses her lips and blows out an exasperated little huff of air. "Royal etiquette, composure, dancing and expression. I have worked tirelessly my entire life to become a queen worthy of my kingdom. Yet I am still not allowed into the room when such matters are discussed."

"In mother's eyes I am still a child. In some ways, I suppose I still am... I've seen so little of the world. There is only so much one can learn from their tutors and books." Elise considers. She's had time to dwell on all of this, on what she would do if she ever got out. "This is my chance. Perhaps the only one I will ever have, so I shan't waste it. The risks you and Juliet have taken on my behalf will not be in vain. I will learn as much as I can and do my part as well." She clenches the soft fabric of her dress in her fists. "...Fates, I wish to do anything other than sit around in that bloody tower!" Her blue eyes light up with mischief and she giggles behind her hand as she recalls the sorceress's reaction earlier. "Good riddance. You were certainly enthused about it yourself, Willow. You cheered nearly just as loud as you did in the arena for Juliet."

"When we first met, Juliet was my opposite in every single way. She was unsheltered and unrefined in the most charming way one can be unrefined. A troublemaker at heart." Elise scrunches her nose and smiles at the memory of a younger Juliet. "I can still recall the day I caught her slipping a mouse into Lavinia's shoe... as well as the day she got caught trying to sneak into a tournament. A tournament against grown men, no less." Her smile softens a fraction. "She was an enigma. I wanted to know more about her. I followed her around like a shadow and learned to climb trees because I thought it might impress her." She blushes at this admission. Climbing trees turned out to be very tame compared to what she learned about Juliet's childhood in the wood. "I liked that she didn't indulge me out of politeness, just because I was the princess. If she ever wished to be left alone, she would tell me just that. She was refreshingly honest."

"I was delighted the first time Juliet opened up to me. It was sometime after we discovered she had mer-blood like me." Elise continues, "We spent hours talking about things I'd never talked about with anyone else. We had so much more in common than I first thought and I must admit... she's the first person I ever fell in love with. She actually doesn't know that yet." The princess blushes, but her expression is a shade more somber than bashful. "I was so excited that I couldn't keep it to myself. I told Lavinia. I didn't specify who I was in love with, but she's... observant. It was a mistake."

"Lavinia was especially cold to Juliet after that. She and the other girls were horrid to her. I cannot fathom what might have occurred when I was not present." Elise stares into her lap guiltily, picking at her thumbnail. She almost stops herself, but defiantly remembers there's no need to outside castle walls. "Moreover, I believe mother also took notice of my feelings. She requested a private audience with Juliet. After that, she distanced herself from me. From everyone, really. Everyone except for that terrible Sefarina." Elise rolls her eyes and unfolds herself, dangling her legs over the bed. She'd thought her dislike for Sefarina stemmed from jealousy. Maybe it did, to an extent, but it turned out she had good reason to hate her.

"You both have done so much for me and I cannot thank you enough." Elise admits, dangling her legs. "Because of that, I do feel that Juliet still cares about me, if only from a distance. Knowing that she would go to such lengths for my sake... it touches my heart. Even so, I cannot help but wonder if my presence makes her uncomfortable. I'm unsure of what I can do to change things... or if it's perhaps too late to change things. You were there when I tried to apologize, were you not? She won't hear of it."

"It's... I miss the Juliet I was friends with. That's all." Elise smiles sadly, biting the inside of her cheek. "I see glimpses of her when she's with you. Juliet hides it well, but she carries a lot of hurt inside her heart. It's why I worry so much." She rests her hand over Willow's and smiles encouragingly. "It's why I'm relieved she has someone like you by her side. I can tell you care about each other. And you protected her in a way I could not. You were a sight to behold in the arena yourself, Willow James." She leans in interestedly. "Have you always been able to summon thunderstorms like that?" She tilts her head. "What is magic like on the other side?"

 

[starboob]

Like sunshine coming through a rainstorm, Willow grins. “I’m a stormchild, kissed by the winds. It’s one of my magic gifts that comes naturally to me. The story goes that when my mom went into labor with me, I summoned a full on rainstorm.” Her father’s always insisted there’s no merit to that story, though he has acknowledged it only when it’s convenient for him. “My temper tantrums as a tot were known for bringing in hurricanes and tornadoes. It actually got bad enough that the government ordered my mom to put a magical lock on my gifts until I could regulate my emotions.” Her grandmas had hotly protested that, claiming it could inhibit her connection and they were not wrong. Though she can still call on storms, her connection to them isn’t what it was as a little one. “The winds are easier for me to call upon, but storms will answer if I’m loud enough.” And apparently she had been loud enough back at the tournament to disrupt the weather in Evermore.

“Magic flows freely in Evermore.” Though as common as it is now, there was a time when hunters would go after those they believed using magic dangerously—most of their targets were those who were born with magic versus those who developed the talent on their own. That’s what led to the magician's war in the first place and what also led to all the regulations and laws Evermore now has regarding magic. “Since it’s so common and because we acknowledge that it is a powerful tool, we do have rules. For example, most schools have spells that prevent students from using magic on campus grounds—well, save for during our magic lessons, but outside of those classrooms, we couldn’t cast.”

“Some people also believe that magic is a crutch and refuse to use it.” The Stakes, for example, are notorious for trying to discourage magic in Elsewhere. Most suspect they are just bitter about being stripped of their magic because of their involvement in instigating the magician's war. “I do think there is merit to learning how to do things without magic, but I also think there can be balance in the approach.”

All this talk about magic and how it’s regulated reminds Willow of what Elise said earlier about Dorothea’s thread. She honestly hadn’t considered the possibility of manipulation, because it would be breaking one of the highest laws in all of Evermore. But considering what she knows now about Griffith and his involvement with the tyrant god… She realizes it’s been naïve of her to ignore what now seems obvious. People might be manipulating love. Previously, she thought it might be some abstract force.

“Until you mentioned it earlier, I hadn’t thought of the possibility that Dorothea's thread might have been tampered with.” Griffith has always been obsessed with his image, so it makes sense that if his thread weren't tied to who he believes is the diamond of society, that he (or his father) would do anything to make that wish a reality. Dorothea having godblood has always put her in the spotlight, she's even referred to as Evermore's Sweetheart, and that could be what caught Griffith's eye in the first place. If this is even true. As much as she wants to run with this hypothesis, she'll need evidence. “When Juliet and I return to Evermore, I’ll have to investigate this.” She'll need to bring this up lightly with Juliet. Something about the way Elise frames her knowledge on the subject makes it sound like she might have personal experience with it. “Thank you, Elise. Seriously, this could be the big break I’ve been searching for.”

“You know, that first night we met, I thought you might share a connection with Dorothea. Not to suggest you two are the same, but at your core you both have this sweet thoughtfulness to you…” Willow blushes and, though she’s hesitant to admit this, because of what Elise said about falling for Juliet, she can’t help but to point out the similarities. “It’s, uh, actually why I fell for her. She was my first real experience with romantic love. Even though we both knew it’d never work, we never held back.”

“When she told me who she was tied to, I remember being so crestfallen. She was so doubtful and still was trying to convince herself that it would work out if she just gave him a chance.” Willow sighs, frowning. On impulse, she leans over and butts her head (gently) against the princess’s shoulder. She’s quiet for a moment. Her eyes drift over her hanging thread. “I feel lucky to be connected to someone like Juliet. We, um, have never really talked about it, but I am hopeful that we’ll explore something together. I do really like her.” She blushes over this admission, realizing she hasn’t actually told anyone this before. She hasn’t even had a moment to gush over these budding feelings. “I was so excited to meet her. Thread relationships in Evermore aren’t usually bubblegum and rainbows, but I’ve always believed mine would be a big, big love.”

“I, um, kinda wanted to get to the bottom of this whole love mess because I hadn’t yet my person. It morphed after that, too. I mean, when I thought about it… when I thought about people like Dorothea or my best friend, Meredith, I wanted to do this for them, too. They don’t deserve the people they’re attached to.”

And maybe, now, she’s also doing this for Juliet. Not because she wants to abandon their thread and where it could lead, but because of all the pain she holds in her heart. Willow never thought of Juliet's reserved nature as such. She always assumed it was her way of being strong, but she has seen glimpses of that softer Juliet. And that troublemaker Juliet. Willow wishes to carve out a softer world for that rambunctious version of her, where she'll feel safe enough to be who she truly is without fear of punishment.

“It was rotten that Lavinia and the others were so cruel to her. I hear so many rumors about her all throughout Folklore and none of them even remotely align with who I’ve come to know during our travels.” She sighs. “But I don’t think it’s helpful to wonder why Juliet rejected your apology. I don’t think it’s helpful to speculate whether or not she wants to be close or not, either. I wish I could tell you something reassuring, but I can’t and shouldn’t speak for her.” Willow places her hand over Elise’s, the one that’s already on her other hand. She offers the princess a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You can always just ask her. She is refreshingly honest.”

 

[ellarose]

The amber glow on Juliet's map beams brighter as she walks down the beach. The corners flap about in the salty sea breeze, as do the ends of her hair and the fabric of her dress about her legs. A rush of sea foam swooshes over her bare feet in the sand. She isn't at all bothered to lift the hem of her skirt, indifferent as it soaks through. Diamonds of sunlight shimmer over the clear blue water. They failed. The lapping waves welcome her warmly, their greeting unknotting the tension in her. It's thrilling. No, it's vindicating to stand in the sun next to the sea. This time she was fast enough. This time she escaped. She breathes in, breathes out, and lowers her map to appreciate the wind against her skin. It would be nice, she thinks, to simply exist out here. As a bird, perhaps, or even as a stone or a tree. Let all trace of Juliet August be washed away, like drawings in the sand.

A bird chirps. An innocent sound to anyone else, but it pierces through Juliet's unguarded mind like an arrow. Her heart jerks in her chest. Her eyes snap open. In a patch of beach grass, perched on the gnarled branch of a tree, sits a bluebird as blue as the sea. It lets out another trill, fluffs its feathers, and stares back at her. The glow on her map beams brighter, but she isn't paying attention to it. She only has eyes for the bluebird. Her heart might have stilled with suspense, but the world continues to move around her. The waves. And the bluebird, who turns around and takes flight.

Juliet doesn't hesitate. She chases after it, her feet thumping fast as her heartbeat in the sand. Behind her, the tree where the bluebird sat sheds its leaves like tears and dies. 'I want to know why.' She thinks about what she'll say if she sees her face again. There was a time where it was all she could think about. There was a time she thought she'd never think about it again. Now her heart betrays her, racing miles ahead of her. 'I want to know... was any of it real?'

The bluebird flies into an ocean cave. Juliet stops short when she realizes she's standing knee-deep in the water. The end of the severed, cursed thread on her bow glows with a pinprick of light, which cascades down and covers it entirely. At the same pace, a chill slips down her spine. Something's not quite right... but her heart can't help but hope.

"Vi... Viola?" Juliet asks the darkness at the mouth of the cave. Her voice is as tight as her grip as she squeezes the map to death in her hands. It flickers angrily now, like lightning bolts. Despite this, she's yet to notice it. The darkness doesn't answer... until it does.

"Aren't you going to come inside, my heart? It's so difficult to get you all alone these days." Sefarina's sultry voice snakes out. "It pains me that I must use that whelp to lure you out. Really, it does. But what else am I to do when you've stopped answering to me?"

Juliet doesn't realize she's crying until a tear falls from her chin, down into the sea. Furiously, she scrubs at her wet cheeks with her fists as betrayal leaves a nasty scar. The water reacts. Around her legs, curls of red bloom out like blood.

"Oh, forgive me dear. I forget sometimes how delicate you are." Sefarina coos condescendingly. Juliet notices the map now, ablaze in amber. Damn it. "Anyway, I have something I think you'll want. Curious, aren't you? Come inside and I'll show you."

"I'd rather not." Juliet says evenly, taking a definitive step backward. Her expression and bleeding heart deaden, she shoves every emotion back up into whatever forbidden box they came from. "It's the other way around, isn't it? I have something you want. That's why you keep crawling back." She raises a brow and takes another step backward, glaring into the ocean cave. "You have nothing. You can't come out here, can you? I can go places you can't follow." Ah, what a comfort that is. She turns to leave. "...Farewell. I hope you rot in hell, Sefarina."

"...What if I told you I know where Viola is?" Sefarina tries. Juliet grits her teeth. She played this game a thousand times before and she already knows the ending. She'll come out empty handed-- if she comes out alive at all. Sefarina used to bait her with Lara the same way. No, nothing ever comes from following her deadly threads. They're a network of spider's silk, leading her round in circles until she's trapped in her web. She's not going to play her mind games anymore. Just as she won't play Prince Devlin's or anyone else's for that matter. She's quite sick of it all. 'It's time to go back to Evermore.'

The map reacts in her hand, drawing a golden path that matches the glow of the thread guiding her back to Nessa's cottage.

"You think yourself so clever... but don't get too comfortable. That silly little trinket around your neck won't protect you forever. Juliet... Juliet!" Sefarina's composed voice screeches until it's feral... and then it's gone. The sound of the rushing waves reenters Juliet's mind, as if they had been stilled through the entirety of their encounter. Good riddance. Scaramouch is so much more than a silly little trinket. She breathes a sigh of relief... then her eyes widen.

Juliet gazes down to find herself standing knee deep in an sea of blood.

***​

Grace rouses with a start. She leaps from the bed and darts out to the entranceway of the seaside cottage to greet Juliet the second she arrives at the door.

From behind the fox in the kitchen, Princess Elise gasps and drops the plate she was holding in her hands. It shatters on the floor. Nettlefred sighs, preparing to chide her for being clumsy when she turns around and sees what she sees. While the princess is outright horrified, the sea witch just tilts her head curiously. "Oh... Looks like you got yourself into some trouble. Heh. You never change, Juliet."

"Juliet!" Elise cries out, concerned. All she can smell and see is the blood that dyes the entire bottom half of Juliet's ivory frock red. She doesn't think before dashing right over the broken glass of the plate she just dropped, cutting the soles of her feet in the process. She flinches and stops short, tiptoeing a few steps further before lowering to her knees. This still doesn't take her gaze from the archer, though. Upon closer inspection, she notices her brown eyes are also red-rimmed. She's been crying. "You're hurt..."

"It's not mine." Juliet reassures her, raising her hands gently. Initially she hesitated to track blood inside but now ventures in to check on Elise-- the one who's actually bleeding now. She hisses softly in sympathy as she inspects the glass shards sticking out of the princess's feet.

"So, who'd you kill this time?" Nessa asks in a light, teasing tone of voice. Juliet glares at her. Millie's cousin snickers and saunters over to the cupboard without missing a beat, gathering some towels and medical supplies. "Must've been one hell of a beast. You had to have cut off more than just a hand this time. Unless it was a giant. Was it a giant? If it's a giant's hand, I call dibs." She laughs deviously and taps her fingertips together. Hehe. Millicent will be so jealous.

"No, it... it doesn't belong to anyone. Not really." Juliet shakes her head. She has no fucking idea what 'dibs' are. She searches the room and meets Willow's gaze. Seeing her up and herself again unwraps the tension in her just like the wind before. "It's the sea. It's bleeding."

"The sea? Now you're telling tales, Juliet August. I was just out fishing and I've not come back a bloody mess!" Nessa clucks her tongue with disbelief and leans over the kitchen sink to peer out the window. "You just want to keep that giant's hand to your-- holy smokes." Juliet does not know what 'holy smokes' are, either. But she supposes Nessa sees it too.

"...Okay. I need some wine." Nessa announces. "Anyone else?"

Juliet simply nods. Elise hesitates and then nods as well. It's been that kind of day.

"I've never heard of such a thing before. A bleeding sea." Elise muses, her brow knit in an amalgam of confusion and pain. Peaches floats her bubble towards her, glowing softly as she tends to the cuts on her feet. "You didn't see anything else in the water?"

"No. I was... I was thinking about Evermore." Juliet admits, looking at Willow again. While it's far from the whole story, it is the truth. "It's the only place I've seen water do such a thing. Also..." She unrolls her map, revealing the curvature of the golden path illuminated there now. "This path revealed itself."

"A... path. Where?" Elise asks confusedly, squinting at the map. Oh. Does she... perhaps not see it? Juliet bites her lip, glancing up at Willow. The thread between them glows with the same light. Does she see it, too?

 

[starboob]

Willow sits beside the open window with a cup of warm honeyed water, blended with some mashed local berries and a squeeze of lemon. It had been an effort for Willow to move from the bedroom out into the kitchen that also seems to double as a living room and a craft room and whatever else Nettlefred needs it to be. Her steps had been slow and, like a toddler, she had to cruise against the wall and then on Elise's arm before she slumped down into the chair she now occupies. Nettlefred hadn’t been concerned by the other caster’s state and said it’ll take another night’s rest before she feels like her old self again. Her grandmas confirmed this when she wrote them. (It’s not the she doubted Nettlefred’s assessment, but she promised her grandmas she would write and so she sent them an update and they wrote back in haste. She could tell because Grandma Elva’s handwriting had been especially smudged with worry. Anyway, they recommended she try to surround herself with as many reminders of home to help ease the process.) Now, she clutches a small pouch of thyme and rosemary, rubbing the scent through her fingers. It’s evening and while the weather is considerably cooler than before, the air is still warm. Much too warm to be wearing the green scarf her grandma knit for her, but it does help clear some of those leftover mists.

Since her conversation with Elise, she’s been quiet and contemplative, chewing on and ruminating over the thought of Dorothea’s thread. Of Juliet’s thread. Of Meredith’s and so many others. Sometimes, when her vision goes hazy, she catches flickers of Dorothea in Elise’s place, but when she turns to look, only the princess is there. She clutches the tooth hanging around her neck, wondering if her charm needs to be strengthened since she’s seeing things. Intuition tells her to be cautiously curious about what’s happening. It tells her to set her fear aside and ask what this could mean, rather than assume the worst. Besides, the potion she had been under was not hallucinogenic. (Unfortunately. Turns out, not only did her dragon really topple the princess tower with King Cayman inside, but she really had been loudly enthusiastic during the rescue. She still has trouble believing it.)

The next time she catches Dorothea from the corner of her vision, she does not turn to make her disappear. She notices as best one can notice from their periphery. She’s painting her nails. No. She’s painting someone else’s nails. (Kinsley’s?) Her lips move, but Willow cannot hear her. Though she does not look directly at her, the weight of her exhaustion holds the sorceress down. Dorothea carries it like it weighs no more than an albatross. To Willow, it feels bigger than the whole sky.

As she concentrates, the room Dorothea is in becomes sharper. Plush carpet rolls out through the sorceress of the sea’s cottage. A fire burns in the fireplace. Willow still cannot see who she is with, but she smells something odd. Something that cannot be real. The smell is charred. Meaty. Full of iron. Then she notices that surrounding Dorothea, on the floor, are faint, pink stains not unlike wine—

Dorothea’s eyes snap up, she turns and in the same moment that Elise screams, “Juliet!” so too does she. The connection shatters. The carpets, the popstar, the piled logs (?) in the fireplace peel away and Willow is back in Folklore, in this seaside home with Elise, Nettlefred and—

“Juliet,” she breathes her name, swallowing hard as she takes in the archer. Following behind Gracie, Lucky flies into the main room and squawks, stopping mid-flight and dropping to the ground. (They land in the glass, but it does nothing to harm them. In fact, they start to nose around it and cronch on it. Tasty snacc.) Juliet reassures them that this is not her blood, though that does little to comfort the concern. Not that Nettlefred is concerned, she takes this in stride, similar to how Milfred might.

When Nettlefred peers at the window, Willow follows and sees it too. She also smells it, though she had thought it was from her vision.

Considering her current state, she rejects the offer of wine but points to her mug to ask for more home tea.

She then glances at the map when Juliet points it out and follows a golden line into the bleeding sea. Her head tilts, meeting Juliet’s eye. Thinking of Evermore made that appear? Ignoring Elise’s surprise, mostly by accident, she asks, “Does your map only react to you? Or whoever…” She frowns as the golden path glows brighter, more insistently, as if answering her question. Once more, she meets Juliet’s gaze to confirm she is seeing that as well.

Nettlefred takes a look from over Juliet’s shoulder and shrugs, kneeling beside the group to clean up the small dots of blood. (The glass has since been taken of. Nettlefred gives Lucky’s nose an affectionate rub. They blep their tongue.) “What is this of bleeding seas in Evermore? How macabre.” The sorceress of the sea’s tone is nothing short of fascinated.

“No, our seas don’t bleed. The Whereabouts don’t have an ocean anymore.” A mystery she’s never been able to solve and now wonders if it somehow layers with the bleeding lakes. She wonders if this bleeding in Folklore is at all connected to her vision. “Our lakes bleed. They have ever since…” Willow drifts off as the memory resurfaces itself. Herself and Dorothea sit beside Mirror Lake, a lake that has (or had) a tendency to reflect one’s dreams. It was the summer before senior year, when they started their tryst. “Well, we’re not sure what caused this. It happened ten-ish years ago. Dorothea and I went to the lake where it first happened. We were the first witnesses, in fact. We hadn’t noticed it at first. We were distracted, but the smell broke through the world we were creating.” (“What is it, Willow? Willow—” She had been too frightened to speak. She just pointed. The lake was blooming red. It was boiling. It was overflowing and reaching for them.) “We ran and it took us three days before we finally reported it, but by that point the bleeding had cleared and we were told it was probably just our classmates pulling a prank on us. That was easier for us to believe than what we saw, so we went with that."

“Then, a few weeks later, it happened again with another couple. They reported it immediately. There was an entire investigation, but nothing came up.” Willow scoots her chair away from the window, now overwhelmed by the awful smell and the memory. “One of the fae courts cried foul play and that a blood crime had been committed. Something as serious as patricide. But no body was discovered and no spirit was detected. The water spirits, the trees, and the fungi also reported having not witnessed anything foul. But ever since then, the lakes bleed. They’re all bleeding now. Some are even flooding the woods. It’s… disturbing.”

The only person who Willow speaks to is Juliet. Her mind also flashes to their encounter with that mysterious sharp entity made of antlers and scissors. What is going on in Evermore? And is it now affecting Folklore? Willow inhales a deep breath, bracing herself as she tries to push herself to stand. Her arms shake with the effort and Lucky comes to aid her. “Juliet, we need to leave. Now.”

Nettlefred politely comes over and pushes Willow back down. She falls like a house of cards. “Sure, Jan.” She spins around and claps her hands. “Juliet, please change. Bone apple teeth in five.”

 

[ellarose]

In the kingdom of Amoria, a shopkeeper tugs down the flower garlands hung at her store's entrance and sweeps away the powder blue flower petals on the front step. They now litter the cobblestone roads and float down the river. Some have taken to calling them 'tears of the kingdom' now that their beloved princess has been kidnapped by the storm witch and her fearsome dragon. In the end, the tournament concludes without a victor. Visitors from other kingdoms pack their bags and set off on their journeys home. With no princess present to win, there is no longer a point to it all. And so, throughout the kingdoms and lands there is a brand new decree. The hero to find the princess and return her home safely shall be the one she is to wed... and there is no specification that this hero must be a prince. The people whisper in the streets, presuming the queen means to have her daughter returned by any means necessary. Even if it means her daughter does indeed marry a commoner after all. None of the princes proved themselves capable of rescuing her from the dragon. Many still hold onto hope that perhaps Prince Devlin will rise above this adversity and prove himself the victor they all thought he would be. Word of his blossoming skills with healing the Lightless have spread like wildfire throughout the land. Finally, they think, the true hero they deserve. The chosen one has appeared.

...However, Prince Devlin's status is not without adversity. A rumor has also spread that Flynn Everson still lives. The romantics whisper amongst themselves, saying they shall believe in true love if he is the one to rescue her and bring her home. No one will be able to deny their love-- it will be like all the greatest stories they've ever read. In a hidden village of shadows en route to the Midnight Mountains, Ambrose grinds his teeth as he makes negotiations with a witch, paying her a generous commission for a new pair of hexed scissors. He fidgets uncomfortably as she counts each coin individually. 'Greedy witches', he thinks sourly to himself, not at all considering the fact the risks they take as rumors only grow unrulier. Or the resentment they harbor. "...If you wish to take advantage of my services in these trying times, sir, you must be prepared to pay for it." Veiled in the darkness of her black hood, the witch smiles with blood red lips. "And I shall require more than coin this time around."

***​

Prince Devlin paces the plush carpets of his quarters, stewing in an uncharacteristic rage as Prince Bain prepares bags and maps for their quest to rescue the princess. During their meeting earlier, Queen Viviane told him flatly that their negotiations ended the moment he turned her guards against the heroines. "...This is madness. Heroines. Even after everything that happened, she still calls them heroines? They kidnapped her only daughter!" Naturally, he thinks there has been a mistake. (In a perfect world, princes like him would not have to face consequences for their mistakes.) "She's gone batty in her grief. This is why queens should not be left to rule on their own. They require the wisdom of men to guide their hands." Flynn Everson is still out there somewhere... and the blasted letter went missing!

"All the greatest heroes are faced with such adversity at the beginning of their narratives, my friend. This is yours. You've the chance to prove yourself now." Prince Bain says sagely to inspire his friend as he tosses Prince Devlin his pack. "Along the way, we will stop in villages and heal the people hurting there. Word shall spread of our heroism. In ages to come, statues in our likeness will be raised. All of the songstresses will sing of our endeavors! Rest assured, we will rescue our princesses from the witch."

***​

When rumors are involved, it is an inevitability that Juliet August's name will appear as well. 'I heard the ferocious dragon kidnapped her from her home on Cornelia street shortly before the tournament.' 'Her companion sprouted wings! Surely that must mean...' 'I heard they tested the princes blood when they first entered the tournament, to ensure they were indeed of nobility. They must have been able to fool everyone into believing she was a prince because she is of royal blood herself!' 'The witch tried to ruin the tournament, using Juliet as her puppet. When her scheme failed she kidnapped the princess as a last resort.' 'Now she has two princesses in captivity. Perhaps she is drinking their blood to obtain their royal magic?' 'Or perhaps she means to eat their hearts?' ...It would not be the first time a witch has tried to eat Juliet August's heart.

The main question on everyone's mind now is where does Juliet August even come from? The mystery of it captivates everyone. If she is indeed a princess, where might her kingdom be located? Wonderland, like Prince Jayden? Or somewhere else? How is it that she ended up in the wood at all? Many theories circulate. Her father wanted a son instead of a daughter and was so distraught that he ordered a huntsman to dispose of her. (Many think this one unlikely, considering the rarity it has become just to bear healthy children of royal blood.) Did a witch in the wood steal her away as an infant? Was she cursed at birth? Did her parents trade her away for a price? Some believe it simpler than all that. She could be the secret child of a king's mistress or a prince's bastard. Or it could have been an evil stepmother, trying to do away with her in the wood. It's always the evil stepmothers, isn't it?

***​

Mira August allows Prince Bain's sisters to stay with her in her home on Cornelia street, as they are intent on waiting in Amoria for his safe return. While the king and queen are set to return to their kingdom in the skies, they ask their daughters to make cordial relations with her and learn whatever they can of Juliet August's upbringing.

From the window of her guest room, Princess Celeste has a perfect view of the Laurence's home beyond the gardens... her thread of fate, pointing right to it. Taunting her constantly, tempting her to see what might happen if she follows it. "Lavinia." She mumbles under her breath, testing the name on her tongue and not at all liking the taste of it. "Lavinia. Of all people, why you?"

Meanwhile, her sisters take tea in the drawing room. They've gathered that Mira August is a guarded, solemn woman. They can see that she is restless with worry for her adoptive daughter... but they can also that she has grown accustomed to it, carrying on with her responsibilities of maintaining a household regardless.

Queen Viviane, however, disappears to her chambers for hours when the day is done to grieve. The curtains are drawn, the room darkened with shadows. She will see no one. While she doesn't allow herself to cry, she stares at the family portrait on her wall for what feels like hours. She can still hear Elise's piercing screams in her mind. Waking to them, lunging from bed, drawing her sword, racing down the corridor and bursting into her bed chamber. Queen Viviane didn't hesitate. She took the captor's head before he could escape with Elise through the open window.

Elise was no longer the same child she once was, having seen two men killed right before her eyes. One of them being her own father. Rumors may spread, but nothing will change the fact that Juliet August is the one who made her daughter smile again. And the people may call her a witch, but it is undeniable that Willow James was of great help to her family in Okeanos. She's an earnest young lady, her kindness undeniable. They are still the heroines. And perhaps this time, Folklore will actually change. She wishes to take a risk, to give them a fighting chance. All of this happened because she tightened her grip. Because of the tower and the way she backed her daughter into a corner. This is her fault. Should Flynn Everson return with Elise, she will honor her decree and allow the two to marry. By then, he will have proved himself a hero in the eyes of the people. No one will be able to say that he is unworthy... least of all her.

The guards were a complete embarrassment without him. Stacking atop each other, acting like mindless buffoons. Something must be done before the kingdom's reputation is completely tarnished. Speaking of...

"My queen, forgive me for the disturbance... that former guard... girl... the girl guard appeared at the gates just now. She's requested an audience with you. I told her you were not to be disturbed, but she was rather insistent." The guard relaying the news rolls his eyes and snorts, as if he finds it all rather ridiculous. Queen Viviane is not amused, however. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Shall I send her away?"

"...No. I will see her." Queen Vivane says cooly. "You all could have benefitted from Viola's expertise today. If I am only so fortunate that she wishes to return to her station, I will put her in charge of all of you."

***​

At nightfall, the rubble of the fallen tower rouses and shakes. A monstrous hand bursts through as King Cayman crawls out from underneath it. Rage sparks erratically in his dark eyes as he pushes and kicks rocks away. He yanks at the arrow lodged in his head, breaking it in half. Limping off to the side, he sits on a fallen log to catch his breath. As he rubs his scarred wrist, he thinks of the human hand he lost before obtaining this one. He pictures the smug face of the bastard who cut it off... and then thinks of her. That woman. They have the same red hair, the same sharp eyes. Before, he thought it no more than an uncanny coincidence. Paranoia. Juliet August, was it? Is that her real name? Or could she be...

Violently, he yanks a chipped glass bottle out from the folds of his red coat. It glows a faint firefly gold in the darkness, illuminating his frightening face. A weary pixie with droopy shoulders and wings gazes up at him from within. "Show me where they've gone. Now."

***​

"Willow?" Juliet says, shaking Willow's shoulder gently. She hates to wake her companion now, given she finally drifted off to sleep after such a restless night... but they agreed to leave at first light without delay. Still, she checks over the sorceress with a discerning eye to ensure that she's feeling up to it. It won't do them any good to rush before they're well and ready, given the dangers they experienced during their last visit to Evermore. Elise yawns on the neighboring bed, lifting her arms above her head in a big stretch. She gazes over at Juliet and Willow together, a twinge of hope mixed with sadness in her heart. She's going to miss them. "It's time for us to go. Are you ready?"

 

[starboob]

The villains of Folklore are on the move. The heroines of love are on their way out. In Evermore, a popstar thrashes in her sleep and wakes screaming. It shatters the glass house, it pierces through the veil. Hungry Lightless in Folklore leap for the noise, pounce on it, and chew. The storm witch stirs in her sleep, thrashing as the winds are disturbed. Quietly, she whispers a name.

Next to the popstar is her lover. He sleeps soundly. The scream, if it was a scream, if it was even real, does not bother him. A shadow looms over their bed, golden eyed and glaring.

The scream, if it was a scream, if it was even real, stirs a sleeping evil. A socialite snaps, “Don’t even think about it.” It quiets and recedes back into the depths of an empty chest.

All is well in Evermore.

Dawn pulls the sky forward into a new day and Willow, cold and hot at the same time, is shaken from a dream that she forgets within seconds. Her bleary vision fades in and out of focus, making sense of where she is and who she’s with, making sense of her redheaded companion. It’s hardly light out and no sun streams behind Juliet to make her glow like the morning sun, but she is the morning sun. To Willow, she will always be the morning sun. She smiles, tired and wobbly and sits herself up.

“It’s time to go?” She repeats what’s already been said, already answering the question by pushing herself out of the bed. Lucky’s right there to steady her still wobbly legs and still exhausted body. Every muscle is achy with protest. She moves tenderly, gingerly, allowing herself to adjust to every movement and new position.

She does not need to worry about changing, at least. Anxious as she was and is to return to Evermore and check on those who might now be in peril, she chose to sleep in her tomorrow clothes to save some time in the morning. As she slips into her adventurin’ boots, she catches the princess’s eye and she reaches for her hand. “It’s gonna be okay.”

***​

Nettlefred joins the heroines and the princess in the main room. Wordlessly, she leads them out to the dock and helps them pile into her boat, taking them off into the blood red sea. The smell is nauseating and sends shivers through Willow James, but Lucky is right there on her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ She takes comfort in knowing that Juliet is coming back with her. She won’t be alone in this. Under the morning stars, her pinky reaches for and curls around Juliet’s.

When they arrive at the marker on Juliet’s map, the seaside cottage is not even a dot on the horizon. Shark fins poke out from the water, hungry and displeased that there is nothing for them to eat, aside from each other. Nettlefred greets each one by name, as is polite, consoling them and agreeing with their reasonable upset. Then she turns to the two casters (and one disaster caster) and, cheerily, she asks, “Shall I raise the sea all by my lonesome? Or would you ninnies like to help?”

The ninnies rise and Nettlefred offers them each a hand to hold and then they grab each other’s, forming a circle. Though this is entirely new for Elise, she is eager to learn and Willow agrees to walk her through it. Nettlefred then takes the opportunity to unhelpfully joke that the only risk is Elise’s head exploding. Willow scolds her with a look. She sulkily apologizes. More serious this time, they grasp tighter onto each other and open a flow of magic between them, each one able to feel the others’ power. Nettlefred’s is like a cascading waterfall. Willow’s howls and thunders. Elise’s is vast as an ocean. Wisps of their collective magic form a torus around them, gathering at their feet. It swirls through their hair, brushes against their cheeks, and dances all around them as it spreads.

The blood sea is still. It goes flat. Nettlefred grins, it’s wicked, it’s wild, it’s magic. She squeezes Elise’s hand and, without much warning or explanation, thrusts their combined magic to form a split in the surface, parting the sea. Willow applies pressure from the wind, widening the gap. Their boat rises with this tide, teetering on the edge of one of the walls. Nettlefred pitches her weight forward, encouraging the boat to slip down the steep slope, grinning like a mad woman possessed. Willow slows their trajectory so that when they bump into the gateway, they do not shatter it.

At the bottom of this chasm they’ve formed is a grand piano, covered in algae and coral. Sparks of magic burp from underneath the lid, like it cannot contain itself. Elise and Willow’s eyes shimmer with awe. (The princess wonders what it would be like to test the theory of the gateway, to see if she might find salvation were she to slip and tumble through it. Something in her urges her to stay. Perhaps the reminder of her twin who needs her. Perhaps something else. The air in Folklore seems different today. As if centuries have passed in just twenty-four hours.)

When it is safe to do so, Willow steps back from the other two, breaking the connection. Though, shortly afterwards, she hurls herself forward and almost knocks the boat sideways when she throws her arms around them. “Stay safe. Be strong. Take care of each other. Have Milfred send us updates?”

Nettlefred looks over at Juliet from over Willow’s shoulder, just as unimpressed as she had been when she heard her own moniker. Then she looks back at Willow, gently pushing her away. She sniffs, turning her attention to the brilliant bloody chasm they have created, occupying herself with holding it together rather than overly emotional goodbyes. “Please come up with better nicknames. You are worse than a pirate.”

Going red in the face, Willow focuses on Elise instead. “Be strong,” she repeats. Elise holds her composure well. Of course she does, she is a princess and a princess must be strong for her kingdom. But behind those blue eyes, Willow knows a world of uncertainty must be building itself. Though she wishes she had been able to deliver Flynn’s letter, she made sure to speak at length of what she remembered of Flynn and his strength, devotion, and determination to reunite. (What happened to that blasted letter? Willow dare not think about it. Elise does not dare either. For now, they pretend all is well.) She squeezes her shoulders then pulls her in for an even tighter hug. “Sometimes a princess needs to be her own hero.” She pulls away, offering her a lopsided smile. “We can’t leave all the fun to the men. Right, Juliet?”

***​

When the two heroines hopped through the gateway, there was never any way to know where they would end up. Pulled by forces of gravity, they and their companions somersault downwards and then upwards before they are spit out into Evermore.

Willow’s arms flail as she flies through the air, an excited and surprised scream leaving her lips. It morphs into a forceful groan when she bellyflops straight into hot sands. Lucky lands gracefully next to her while Juliet and Grace, following the same arc she had, land straight on top of Willow, forcing all the air from her lungs. She gasps and Juliet, ever quick, moves off of her so that she can flip onto her back and suck in desperate breaths of air.

The Evermore sun is high above their heads and heat grips them in a vise. (Willow is thankful for her forethought to wear short pants, knowing they’d be back in Evermore.) It’s midday, she would guess and the exit to the gateway is another piano, apparently abandoned in the desert. ‘Is this Nowhere?’ Nowhere is a desert, but as she sits up and peers around, blinking to get her bearings, she spots a set of train tracks a football field or two away. She follows it left and spots the fuzzy outline of You York. To her right, the former Elsewhere coast.

They’re in the Lost Ocean.

“Juliet,” Willow whips her head around, lifting herself all the way up back to her feet. Naturally, Juliet is already up and ready, it’s only her who is slow to rise. (Ugh, she’s gotta be quick.) “I think we should stop by the Rhode Island house to check on my grandmas, then maybe see Sawyer for an update. We need to know what we’re stepping into here.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet might have stood up too fast. Speckles obstruct her view of their surroundings and she digs the heels of her boots into the sand to hold herself upright. Her ribs are still tender, every bruise pulsing with a little heartbeat that reminds her they're still there. It's because she pushed herself before three days passed. Not that it was her fault-- not this time, anyway. She'd been an excellent patient and followed nurse Willow's instructions exactly, even if it made her restless to stay in bed. It was Prince Devlin who decided to strike a match and set everything aflame. If she hadn't fled, she suspects she'd be have been burned and bedridden for... other reasons. Despite the heat blazing down on them from the white-hot sun above, she shivers just thinking about it. Seeing Willow yesterday was her first time witnessing someone else under the effects of a concoction she was all too familiar with receiving. And she was given dosage after dosage. How much has she lost of herself from that alone? How much of a toll has that taken on her mind?

The betrayal Juliet already felt sharpens and sinks in like a knife in her back, leaving yet another invisible scar. How could they look at her, completely lost in a haze, thinking any of it was okay? How could they say were trying to protect her when they were dismantling who she once was, piece by piece? How could they do that to her?

The Augusts and nobles offered Juliet enough to feel indebted to them for a time... but she sees now more than ever that they took more than they gave. They're through and she owes them nothing now. She takes a long breath in, feeling that weight slip away from her shoulders as she exhales. Millicent will sagely claim that she was right all along. She always saw the nobles exactly for who they were. Perhaps because she watched it all from a comfortable distance. She's never been manipulated by poison masked in sugarcoated lies, never had her mind twisted like a soft pretzel from the mall.

Ah. Soft pretzels. Juliet cannot help but hope that Willow's grandmas intuition has led them to prepare food for their return. A nice meal from Evermore can easily substitute medicine for all of these invisible wounds she's sustained.

"...Right. I will follow your lead." Juliet says, nodding thoughtfully as Willow details her plans. Then she takes in their surroundings. It takes a moment for her to register where they are from this vantage point, standing in the middle of a strange desert-- no-- an ocean without water. She takes in the coils of dried seaweed decorating the ripples of sand, the broken remains of shells littered all over. Rocks and colorful coral are flaked with shriveled algae and dried starfish. There are few scattered points where she can see the skeletons of wooden boats, some submerged and barely sticking out of the sand. Standing not too far away from them is an entire shipwreck, a sail on a broken pole drooping like a limp, dead thing in the windless heat. Her stare lingers there for a while.

"It was terrifying. I almost lost my life that night... and my brother, he..." Viola trailed off, loosening her grip on Juliet's hand. There were more than just ghosts of fear and sorrow in her eyes that night. She was grappling with uncertainty, too. There was a time she seemed so sure of everything... but in that moment, she couldn't meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Juliet. I can't talk about it. Not yet."

Juliet shakes the memory, averting her eyes from the wreck. Viola was already taking steps away from her, calling her 'Juliet' instead of 'Jules'. She never did hear the rest of that story... was it that she didn't want to speak or that she couldn't? There's no use wondering now. It's in the past. She's in the past.

"I feel like this, sometimes." Juliet finds herself admitting before she can really think about it. She's just desperate to change the subject in her mind. She bites her lip and then releases it so she can elaborate. "Like an ocean without water." She knows what it's like to be hollowed, leaving nothing but husks of what once was-- like the abandoned shells and broken ships strewn all around them now. No depth. Just emptiness and carnage.

"That must sound ridiculous." Juliet brushes it off, her cheeks faintly red. "I didn't sleep much last night." Neither of them did. Perhaps that is enough to explain it away.

The sound of shaking rubble among one of the sunken boats provides a distraction Juliet's rather thankful for. Tilting her head to the side, she cautiously approaches it. Whatever made the noise must be quite small. Hoisting the board up, a disoriented little bird tumbles out with a shiny necklace in its beak. She can't help breaking into a small smile.

"It seems we have a little treasure hunter in our midst." Juliet observes, gently setting her fingers against the bird to steady her. It doesn't seem the bird is injured-- thank goodness. She looks at her, tilting her head to the side. The archer nods encouragingly. "There you go."

The bird chirps, plucks up the shiny necklace and takes to the sky.

"I'm surprised it found anything at all." Juliet muses, turning around to look at Willow. "Did people scavenge the ships when the ocean disappeared?"

 

[starboob]

When Juliet admits to feeling like this sad sea, Willow frowns, not understanding. Through her earnest eyes, her companion is an endless well. A little reserved, sure, but through their travels together, another Juliet has slowly been peeking through the cracks in her well curated facade. She doesn’t say this, however. It’s not her perspective that matters right now. She’s not asking for a counterargument. At least, Willow doesn’t think so. She’s just sharing.

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” she says softly. Then, a little more curious, she tilts her head. 'What would fill your ocean again?'

Even as she watches Juliet, she doesn’t see what Juliet must be seeing in herself. The kindness she extends to the struggling creature and her curiosity suggest there is more than a supposed emptiness inside of her. But she does not mention this. She does not point it out. There was a time when Willow might have, but she remembers how upset Meredith would get whenever she tried to fix her problems or shift perspective when she only wanted to be heard. So she listens.

And when Juliet changes the subject, she takes the hint, observing the dried up ocean desert.

“Yes.” Willow thinks back to that last summer they had with Giselle, Isla, and the others. She remembers how they all begged the other kids of the cove to stay, but their friends had been insistent that they had to go. That they were forbidden from coming back. They never explained themselves and whenever Willow or the others tried to ask, they tactfully changed subjects. It wasn’t until the ocean left that they realized they never got an answer.

That summer, they made the most of mischief, but it was tinged with bitterness, knowing there would be an end. Clover forced everyone to camp out on the beach or else they weren’t “real kids of the cove,” not that anyone complained or protested. But whenever Clover has an idea, she has a tendency to air it as a command. Willow finds herself smiling over the memories.

But Juliet is not asking about what happened before the ocean left. She is asking what happened afterwards. “There were a lot of treasure hunters, archeologists, marine biologists, and others who saw this as an opportunity rather than a tragedy. Honestly, I don’t remember too much of that time. I was pretty young.” And she had just moved to Elsewhere, so she had other concerns on her mind at the time. Like trying to fit in at her new school and prepping herself for the mortifying ordeal of her new teacher loudly introducing her to the whole class. The usual ten year old concerns. “Some months later, the council banned scavenging after being persuaded by some of the elven clans. So I guess not everything was scavenged, leaving some things for the magpies."

Willow shades her eyes, scanning the horizon for the Rhode Island house. They aren’t too far from it. If she were to estimate, she would guess that it would only take an hour on foot to get there. Not bad, except for the fact that the trek will be uphill and the summer heat is already causing her shirt to stick to her back and the denim of her shorts is starting to get uncomfortable. Then there is their mutual exhaustion to consider on behalf of their poor sleep and eagerness to return to Evermore.

“Lucky duck?” Hisses in dragon. “Would you be the best dragon and take us back home?” Even in spite of the insulting nickname, her companion is powerless to the effect of Willow’s big pleading eyes, full of sleepiness. They grumble a bit, but ultimately oblige the request, growing to accommodate their three passengers. (Unless Gracie-Grace wants to fly with Lucky!! Ah, it does not seem so. She boards with Juliet. Okay.)

By dragon, it only takes them five minutes to fly directly into the backyard. The second the passengers have alighted, Lucky scampers off, trilling happily as they shrink down to get lost in the knee-high grass. Willow guesses they're off to find the other companions or maybe find themselves a snack. Though the air feels suspiciously still for the Rhode Island house. No companions are sleeping on the back porch. Wilco isn’t barreling towards them. Not even her grandmas have teleported themselves to greet her as they had done the last time and all she had done then was set foot on the property line. They ought to know of their arrival.

Something isn’t right.

Her pulse throbs against her neck, heartbeat making dents against her ribcage as she assumes the worst. Without warning, without explaining anything to Juliet, she races towards the home, entering through the kitchen. It’s empty. She feels over the stove. Warmth emanates from it and she can even detect both sweet and savory notes from whatever had been made for lunch. And it couldn’t have been that long ago as she accidentally burns her finger on the still hot tea kettle, hissing as she pulls it away, shaking it out.

Ignoring her burn, she dashes through the rest of the house, remembering Sabrina’s veiled threat the last time she was in Evermore. 'No, no, no—' The living room is empty. So is the dining room. (The gneabils squeak and run from the heroine’s path, jumping back into the wooden planks.) She looks up the winding staircase and calls out, “Grandma Elva? Grandma Juniper? ...Leif?”

Silence.

When she peers out the front room window, the cars are still in the driveway. (Not that either of her grandmothers drive much. Nor should they, but they are still there which usually means they are home. Or that someone is.) She finds Juliet again, grabbing onto her arms. “Am I freaking out over nothing, Juliet? Tell me this is nothing and that I’m just doing my usual Willow panic?”

In true panicked Willow fashion, she doesn’t give Juliet time to respond. She dashes back outside, into the backyard, just in time to see Lucky slinking through the slightly ajar barn door and goes to follow. “Lucky! Lucky James, I know th—”

“Surpri—!!”

Willow both screams and sends a blast of wind towards her family, all gathered in the barn and patiently waiting for her arrival. Grandma Elva is still as quick as ever, sticking out her palm to absorb the winds. She tuts, placing her hands on her hips. “Willow James, no wind casting at family members. We’ve been over this.” Despite the way she scolds her granddaughter, her tone is affectionate and she smiles, something like pride shining in her eyes. Ah, has she grown. “You’re with loved ones. You’re safe here, my darling. Can’t we just give you a proper surprise for your birthday?”

“It’s… my birthday?” Honestly, keeping track of the days has not been Willow’s top priority and with the ever changing seasons in Folklore, she somewhat forgot that it’s summer in Evermore, despite Juliet having mentioned it only a few nights ago at the ladies dinner.

“Yes, of course, silly.” This is from Grandma Juniper who flashes over to Willow, wrapping her in a fierce hug. The sorceress gasps and wheezes out. (She swears she gets stronger with age.) “You haven’t been gone that long, you goose.”

While various aunts, uncles, and cousins greet Willow, Leif parts from the crowd and approaches Juliet, wearing a grin that is too wide to not be suspicious. "Juliet! Hero of heroes!" Though he's teasing, it's not as though he takes her role unseriously. His teasing seems to come from a friendlier place. (Perhaps the city of Marijuana if his blazing eyes are any indication.) Though his arms are spread wide, like he's going in for a hug, instead, he dramatically drops down to one knee, one hand solemnly over his heart, the other behind his back. (Solemn is a difficult look for a goof like Leif to pull off and yet he manages.) "My hero, especially. For returning the tiniest sister in existence alive and in one piece," "Hey! I'm average height! You're just a giant," "may I present unto thee, the finest Wilco's Donuts has to offer?" From behind his back, he procures an impressively sized jelly donut with a heart shaped strawberry sitting at the center. "I knoweth it might not beeth much, but we didn't-eth knoweth you were coming until last night. Eth." (It is a good thing Willow is so thoroughly being drowned in hugs and kisses from her family, otherwise she might have melted from secondhand embarrassment.)

Leif might say they put this all together in just one night, but it's almost too impressive to believe. While the barn decorations are a little haphazard, there are party streamers, banners, string lights all hanging from the rafters. A constant stream of magic confetti rains from the ceiling without ever piling on the ground or getting into people's hair. The spread of food is also saved from the bits of sparkly paper. And the spread is every bit as impressive as it had been the last time Juliet feasted with the Yeongs. At the center of it all is carrot cake that's been made to look like a giant carrot. (Willow is of the opinion that carrot cake is the best kind of cake to serve for birthdays.) “Don’t worry if you didn’t get her a gift,” Leif whispers. “She hates them anyway.”

While Leif chats with Juliet and as Willow fields questions left and right, a heart shaped point of a tail flicks down from the rafters. A shadowy figure with horns perches on one of the beams, watching, waiting, for the perfect moment to strike. (In fact, there is a suspiciously marked 'X' right over where Willow is standing and a particularly fluffy mound of hay just a few feet from the marker.) The figure moves quietly from above, though she is almost distracted by the redhead she has heard so much about. She almost even abandons Mission: Tackle Hug WJ And Make Her Shit A Brick in favor of switching targets. Meredith resists, reeling in her impulsivity and refocusing her attention on Willow James.

Of course, before the ever alert Juliet can take note, one of Willow’s small cousins barrels straight into her, with no consideration for pumping the brakes before she smacks right into Juliet's legs, wrapping her in what she believes is the world's mightiest hug. (It's like being squeezed by a teddy bear.) “Juli-Juliet! Do you remember me? You won me a prize and I want to grow up to be just like you.” Little Rosenna grins up at the archer, showing off her two missing front teeth. “It's okay if you don't recognize me anymore. I used to have teeth. Are you staying here forever now? I think you should."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is immensely thankful that Willow packed the mall clothes she'd been wearing during their last Evermore visit in her endless well of a bag-- as well as the fact that she had remembered to scoop it up from outside the dungeon cell she'd been locked in before they left. (The sorceress likes to be prepared. Wherever would they be without her twenty-seven toothbrushes?) While Willow's family treats her as warmly as ever, her feelings of awkwardness haven't completely melted away yet. (Admittedly, those 'special brownies' did help her along the first time around.) The clothes at least keep her from feeling like a complete outsider. It's still going to take some getting used to, though, standing among people who have known each other for years and years... around people treating each other with warm, intimate familiarity instead of the distant politeness she's so accustomed to. Her mind hurtles forward to process everything that has happened since they entered the barn.

It's Willow's birthday and Juliet had no idea. She supposes the topic has never come up in conversation between them. Losing days to bed rest and making an escape from the castle has certainly messed with their perception of time, too. It seems that Willow herself might have forgotten the date, if she were to wager a guess by her reaction alone.

Still. Juliet feels now that she should have collected more sea glass to trade Nessa for a gift back when she was searching for things to bring back for Willow's grandmas. (She selected a strange knick-knack of a skeleton sitting on a cloud for Juniper and an old journal containing sketches and entries detailing enchanted items found on Folklore's coasts for Elva.) When the moment is right she'll properly thank them for taking such good care of Grace. For now, she's shy at the prospect of doing such a thing in front of everyone. It'd be rather strange to be giving them gifts during Willow's party, anyway. The sorceress had been feeling homesick lately, so to some extent she understands that being home and surrounded by the family she loves so much is likely the best gift she could receive right now. Willow James is simply that kind of person.

For now, Juliet resolves to stay quiet on the sidelines, listening to Leif's animated chatter and enjoying her donut--

"Ah." Juliet gulps down the heart-shaped strawberry as the child smashes into her legs, blushing a faint strawberry red as if what she just ate went directly to her cheeks. A child... what is she to do now? She's at a complete loss for words at the prospect of anyone wishing to be 'just like her', unsure of what to say until the girl shows off her missing teeth. "...I see. Did you lose them in a fight against a monster?" She points to her own mouth. "That is how I lost my front teeth as a girl."

"A monster?" Rosenna tilts her head, hesitating as she considers how to answer the question. Juliet is not sure if her question is inappropriate on this side... but given how people talk to each other, it seems that no one takes offense or deems it vulgar. In fact, the little girl's eyes brighten with delight instead of horror. Naturally, Evermore is different when it comes to these things. She should not be surprised. "Yes! It was a reeeeeally big one!"

"Was it this big?" Juliet holds her arms out as an example. The girl releases her legs to widen her own arms, straining to stretch them out as far as she can to show an example of how large her monster was. "My. You must be very strong indeed. What kind of monster was it?"

"Juliet," Rosenna whispers when she begins to think that Juliet is taking her seriously, tugging gently on her wrist. "I'm just kidding about the monster." She smiles shyly. "I ran into a door. You're just kidding, too... right? How'd you really lose your teeth?"

"Oh, the monster I fought was very much real. Folklore has many monsters. It was a hellhound as big as that table over there." Juliet says, gesturing to the food. Rosenna's eyes widen, her mouth forming a tiny 'o'. "They can smell death... and I was starving. This one had been hunting me down for days, so I hid up in the trees. At the time, I had nothing but my slingshot to defend myself with. One night when I drifted off to sleep, I realized I had dropped it." Juliet doesn't fully realize a few of the other children clustering around her as she tells the story. "When I thought the hellhound had gone away, I climbed down to retrieve it..." The children collectively hold their breath. "Then it pounced out of hiding and knocked me over with a mighty sweep of its tail." She nods thoughtfully. "I hit the ground hard, spitting a mouthful of blood and my two front teeth. That is how I lost them."

"...How'd you escape?" One of the other children asks. This is approximately the moment Juliet realizes her accumulated audience. Her blush grows a smidgen redder, but she continues nonetheless.

"Grace bit into the hellhound's leg with all her might, preventing it from tearing me to shreds." The fox huffs and shyly brushes against Juliet's calves, hiding from the astounded gazes of the children. "While it was distracted, I grabbed for my slingshot and aimed for it's right eye. We were able to run away after that. We had to be very fast to escape with our lives."

"Oh my gosh. Where were your parents, missy!?" The cousin Juliet recognizes as Olive exclaims, dramatically waving her hands over her head.

Juliet notices a flicker of movement overhead, tensing. There's no time to answer more of the children's questions when she catches it moving right above Willow. Recalling the dangers they encountered on their last visit, she wastes no time in rushing to her aid. "Willow!" In that moment she is able to not just tell but show them all just how fast Juliet August can be when she rushes forward to push Willow out of harm's way, sending her tumbling into the soft patch of hay nearby the second the figure from the shadows comes leaping down! The mysterious person crashes into Juliet instead of Willow, the momentum sending them both crashing into an ungraceful heap on the barn floor.

Splotches of red and black appear behind Juliet's eyelids, her aching ribs screaming out in pain, but that doesn't stop her from reaching for her knife to defend herself with--

 

[starboob]

One moment, Willow is fielding questions about Folklore and the next, a red blur is moving towards her, worriedly calling her name. Juliet. She doesn’t have time to react or even identify the apparent danger. Juliet’s palms hit her first, sending her straight into the softened pile of hay. Her mouth opens, crying out in shock, and gets muffled against a mouthful of hay. Vaguely, she hears a much louder crash behind her, followed by the sound of Leif’s booming laughter. Meanwhile, Willow is quick to push herself back up, sputtering and spitting out the hay (it’s for horses)—

“A fucking knife!?”

Meredith’s uncharacteristically shrill voice pierces through the air and Willow is even quicker to spin around. She doesn’t even need to move three steps to reach Juliet, who has somehow maneuvered to pin Meredith to the ground, bracing her knee against her best friend’s chest, holding a knife to her neck. Oh, no.

Now it’s obvious to Willow what set off Juliet. (And it also makes sense why her family had been crowding her in such a way that left a clear path towards the haystack. She should have known. Meredith and Willow never miss each other's birthday. And Meredith Ardent will always try to scare the living daylight right out of Willow James.) With this turn of events, Leif’s laughter has come to a sudden stop, his eyes and mouth as wide as everyone else’s, including their grandmas. The only thing in the barn that moves is the mason jar that blipped next to Meredith’s head after she cursed. (Mer’s Swears is written in Willow’s neat print across the label on the side.)

Well, this could have gone better, but she also considers that it could have gone much worse. Gently, she sets her hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Juliet, this is Meredith.” She shoots her friend an apologetic glance. “Meredith, this is Juliet. She’s the one I’ve been traveling with in Folklore.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gathered that.” The fae grumbles, taking Willow’s hand to pull herself back up to her feet. In unison, without prompting, they both start to fix each other’s hair. Meredith picks out the hay from Willow’s and Willow arranges Meredith’s highlighter green bangs around her opalescent horns, the way she knows her friend likes. At the same time, Meredith all but tries to vaporize Juliet with a glare from over Willow’s shoulder. “Why’d she fucking pull a knife on me, though?” Mer’s Swears hovers insistently next to her, though Juniper waves it away, deciding to give their prodigal granddaughter a pass, given the circumstances. “You told her about me, right?”

The question comes out as an accusation, veiling her friend’s hurt and surprisingly sensitive nature. At this moment, the grandmas clap their hands together and herd the rest of the family towards the banquet, giving them some privacy.

“Yes, of course I told her about my best friend in the whole wide world.” Willow brushes her knuckle under her chin, then pulls her in for a tight hug. The two practically melt into each other, holding each other for much longer than two ordinary friends might. But they are not ordinary friends. They are best friends and, in the most platonic sense of the phrase, they are in love. When they pull away they exchange cheek kisses and Willow continues. “Juliet takes my safety very seriously. We’ve also been through a lot in these last couple weeks, so we’re both on edge.”

Meredith considers this. Her eyes, a light amber color, shift over and lock onto the archer, scrutinizing her. Her tail—also opalescent like her three sets of horns—flicks back and forth as she judges Juliet’s character without even so much as a hello. (Meredith can be… prickly around new people, especially those who Willow decides to trust.) Even so, she gets the sense that Willow’s trust in Juliet also extends into a deeper sense of care. Not unusual for the last romantic, but the way she’s pleading with her to be nice, in that silent language they share, forces her to realize that she’s important to Willow. Ordinarily, she would ignore this, but it’s her birthday. So for that reason and that reason alone, she’ll try. In her own Meredith Ardent way, of course.

Looking off towards Willow’s grandmothers, she nudges her friend. “Hey, Wills, I think Elfie is calling for you.”

She’s not, but Willow doesn’t bother to check, tired enough that she doesn’t suspect a scheme. And while she might not suspect a scheme, she still gives Meredith an intense look that reiterates be nice, before she’s heading off to check on what her grandma might want.

Left alone, Meredith once again sizes Juliet up. She’s shorter than Willow, by an inch, yet somehow she appears twice as tall. Maybe it’s her horns. Maybe it’s her judgy tail. Maybe it's all her tattoos and piercings (her short pants and cropped shirt suggest she might be running out of canvas). She crosses her arms and then pops her hips to the side. “Look, let me level with you. I’m a huge bitch.” The swear jar appears and, without breaking eye contact, she deposits a quarter through the slot. It disappears. “But I’m not all bark, no bite. I’ve got evil in my veins and if you hurt Willow James, the most important person in the world to me, I will rip the veil down, hunt you, and unleash that evil on you.”

Everything in Meredith’s tone suggests that she’s deadly serious and that she’s almost daring Juliet to try her. Likely because she wants to get even for being pinned down and held at knife point earlier. Or maybe because she just likes causing problems.

Luckily (heh), Lucky glides through the air at that moment and perches on Juliet’s shoulder before anything can escalate further. They’re holding two chicken skewers in their mouth and they offer both to Juliet. This seems to impress Meredith, who knows as well as any that Lucky James is the most protective of Willow and her stupid big heart. They look at Meredith. This is her birthday. Do not. Meredith blows out a raspberry. She uncrosses her arms then sinks her hands into her pockets. “Guess if Lucky likes you, you can’t be that bad.” But Lucky also liked Ryan, Dorothea, Cosima, and so many others before Juliet. This means little to her, but she takes the dragon’s hint anyway. It's Willow's birthday. Kicking at the ground, she asks, “How’d you two even meet or decide to work together?”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet August is no stranger to judgement. It swirls around Willow's best friend like steam over a boiling stove, from the tips of her horns to the soles of her shoes. It isn't completely unwarranted, she supposes... but how was she to know that she did not pose a threat, launching herself down from the ceiling beams in such a way? Oh well. At least, Juliet thinks, she is upfront and honest about her dislike for her. It's refreshing, admittedly, to be told to her face instead of suspecting it being whispered behind her back.

"Okay." Juliet says, tilting her head to the side. Everything about the archer is steady and unruffled, completely contrasting Meredith and her thinly veiled hankering for a fight. Had her dislike come from anywhere else, perhaps she might have met her with a fire of her own. But she only wishes to keep Willow James safe. That is not so unreasonable, is it? While it is true she did not recognize her at first glance, her traveling companion has told her about her best friend. If she is important to her, she does not wish to cause any undue trouble. It would be nice, for once, to be uninvolved in conflict outside of their quest. "That's fair."

Still. There's a twinge of... something in Juliet's chest when she glances around the emptied barn. It's some form of hurt. (Probably just the bruises and her ribs.) She's rather at a loss, having been left alone with someone she's just made a disastrous first impression with. Someone who Willow kissed and looked at with such softness in her eyes. She wishes someone would have stayed behind with her, or reassured her of what was actually happening... and when she think back to all of the eyes on them just then, she wishes she could just disappear. Everyone hates me now.

It's a familiar sort of shame that crawls over her, a familiar sort of loneliness. A cold splash of a reminder that Juliet doesn't quite fit here, either. And of course she doesn't. This isn't even her world. Why does this always happen?

Grace rubs her face affectionately against her calves and Juliet strokes her behind the ears. Lucky appears a few moments later, bearing gifts, and it helps bolster her a little. She gives their nose a little thank you rub.

"I was observing a gateway in Folklore at the time. Willow came through unexpectedly and we went crashing to the ground." Juliet bites her lower lip, realizing that 'crashing to the ground' is becoming something of a pattern for her. "She told me about her quest to save love. The princess had recently prophesied that a hero from the other side would appear... so with that in mind, I escorted her to the castle. Our ambitions aligned, so from there we decided to travel together." She nods keeping her explanation succinct. "I presume she's already written to you on the subject... and she is a better storyteller than I." Willow did in fact tell her how close they were, detailing a couple of their adventures in her stories thus far. And there were quite a few nights where the sorceress would curl up in a nook with her stationery, penning thoughtful letters to her friends and family. No need to say what has already been said. She senses Meredith is only humoring her because of the stern looks she has received from Willow-- and now Lucky as well.

Meredith looks to be the epitome of everything Evermore embodies-- from her expression to the markings on her skin and the clothes she wears.

"...I do apologize for drawing my knife. We were ambushed yesterday, so I have been especially vigilant. I misinterpreted your intentions." Juliet admits, genuine confusion flickering in her brown eyes. Her brow knits slightly the more she thinks about it. "Is it customary for friends to attack each other in Evermore?" Or perhaps it is a party tradition of sorts? Either way, it is rather peculiar. "I realize there is much I still need to learn about this side." She holds up a peace sign. "I have learned of the peace sign... baseball and the phrase bitchn'... and also that mechanical beas-- cars-- are not monsters to be stuck down with my arrows." She grimaces, pressing the heel of her hand against her chest as it aches. Her breaths become slightly uneven. "I am still coming to terms with the last one, to be honest."

Juliet offers Meredith one of the chicken skewers. (She's lost her appetite, anyway.) Then she turns, walking a few steps to sit down on the patch of hay to catch her breath. Grace hops onto her lap and stares up at her searchingly.

"Gracie, it's all right. I only need a moment to--" Juliet tries to shoo the fox away, but she's too insistent. Her companion takes the end of her shirt in her teeth, lifting it up to inspect the injuries underneath. Her ears twitch sympathetically as she glances from the dark violets of the archer's bruises to the barn doors. Juliet tenses. She does not need to accumulate any more undue attention this way. She can handle this. "Grace."

Grace hops down and flies nimbly beyond her reach. Juliet begins to stand to go after her, but then winces and thinks better of it. Her injuries hadn't troubled her much before... but that fall took a lot out of her. Willow has been homesick, it is her birthday and already Juliet feels as though she is ruining everything.

The winged fox darts out of the barn and runs directly to Junpier. It's a bold move for the shy fox after all this time-- but she knows now that she can trust the kindhearted Grandmas to take genuine care of her companion. (It is extremely rare to find those with such good intentions, but it seems it is indeed possible.) She paws gently at her calves, looking pleadingly between her and the barn.

 

[starboob]

The barn is much quieter now, the party having since been moved to the backyard, where it was always intended to be—the barn had just been convenient for the surprise factor and Meredith’s desire to separate Willow’s skin from her bones. Now it’s just the two of them and the air is noticeably more tense and hostile and it’s obvious that the hostility is coming solely from Willow’s best friend and emotional guardian. (A role she perhaps takes too seriously.)

Even so, the constant mantra, ‘It’s her birthday. It’s her birthday. It’s her birthday,’ rings in her head and prevents her from acting out in her usual Meredith Ardent ways—which can range from arranging schemes to reveal someone’s trash personality (because everyone is trash except for Willow and her family) or even slipping a frog into their drink. (Dorothea had been unimpressed with that one and handled it considerably well. She befriended the frog and then encouraged it to sneak down the back of Meredith’s shirt. It had won some points with her, admittedly, but all those points were lost when she broke Willow’s heart a week later.) Right now, she opts for her standard cold shoulder while she listens to this other sider explain herself.

“It’s customary for me. Not others.” She keeps her explanation short, eyeing the redhead when her breathing changes and she’s brought to sit down. Her expression is surprisingly disaffected when she notices that smattering of purple-black-blue all over her abdomen. She just bites off a piece of chicken from the skewer she had been offered and says nothing of it. “Well, thanks, I guess. For at least keeping her physically safe. Looks like you took a beating.” She points out the obvious with the skewer. “I’ll go… Nevermind.”

Without explaining or even saying goodbye, she saunters out the barn door just as Juniper is coming in, guided by a particularly insistent fox. As Meredith leaves, a beagle darts out from behind a hay bale, following after her.

Juniper hurries as best she is able, picking up her skirts to keep from tripping as she makes her way over to the archer. The second she sees her abdomen, she frowns. “Oh, dear. Or fox. Yes,” she decides, rather matter of fact, “Oh, fox indeed.” Slowly, she eases down to her knees and presses on Juliet’s shoulder to encourage her to stay down. “I see now where little Gracie gets her troublesome nature.” The older woman is, of course, teasing and the crow’s feet beside her eyes suggest as much. She reaches behind her head to tighten her bundle of hair. “Were you not told to rest, missy?”

Gently, she bops the archer’s nose. “I am only teasing. Willow is telling stories of your travels right now.” Meaning, the grandmother now knows more than she would like about her granddaughter’s adventures. (It’s rare a day ever passes without Juniper lighting a candle to their family’s matron god, Fearless, but ever since Willow left home, Elfie and herself have been making sure to light some for the fates as well.) Before she sets her hands over or even against the archer, she asks, “May I?” Once she has permission, her hands adopt a white glow, as do her eyes, and she hovers them over the injuries. She winces, feeling the throbs as if they are her own. “My, oh my. Well, I suppose it could be much, much worse. Seems our remedies have at least kickstarted your healing process. This is good.” She pats Juliet’s cheek affectionately. “Now that you’re here, I can finish the process. Still, be gentle with yourself. It can be quite the shock to your body when you go from being unwell to well.”

She brushes the pad of her thumb over Juliet’s forehead. It’s difficult to tell whether this is more of the Rhode Island house’s signature affection or if this is part of the healing process. It might be both as her thumb glows, sending a soothing icy wave through the archer's system, while her eyes look on her with warmth, still smiling as she tends to her. Though she sees all the scars covering Juliet's body, she does nothing to draw any attention to them. She doe silently wonder about the life she has led. That story of how she lost her two front teeth... This poor child, too resilient for her own good.

Juniper goes silent for a moment while her fingertips lightly brush over the bruised splotches, carefully watching them as they fade. Once she's satisfied Juliet is healing correctly, she continues. “Willow says you inspired her big storm. Seems only yesterday she was struggling to cast in front of too many people and look at her now.” The corners of her eyes crinkle. “She must care about you muchly to have performed such an act of magic in front of not just one kingdom, but multiple.” Pride shines in Juniper’s rich, black eyes. Then she sighs, rather suddenly, glancing over her shoulder. “Which means Meredith must have been particularly nasty with you.”

This is not surprising. The Rhode Island house is her home, they are all her family, and Meredith is fiercely protective of her people. Herself and Elfie have always encouraged the quality and have made their attempts to help the fae scale it down, but where Willow James is concerned? It will need to be Willow James to tell her that she can take care of her own heart. For Juliet's sake, she hopes Willow has that conversation with Meredith soon. While Juniper understands the behavior, that does not mean that she will allow for this. “Our prodigal daughter can be oh so prickly. Like a pear. Would you like me to talk to her? She knows better than to be rude to guests. Everyone is welcome at the Rhode Island house." She pauses, suspecting the archer might need a moment to let that sink in. "Well, I suppose not the berry mashers, but you’re not a berry masher, are you, Juliet? You strike me more as a berry muncher and we very much welcome those.”

 

[ellarose]

When Juniper leaves to rejoin the others outside, Juliet takes a moment longer to catch her breath. From Grace's perspective, however, she can gauge that her companion needs more than just a moment to gather herself. To say she's been through a lot since their last visit to Evermore would be an understatement. The fox paws gently at Juliet's feet, insisting with a quiet yip that she can lead the way out. Without drawing any attention from the partygoers, they sneak around the barn and over to the side of the Rhode Island house. Grace trots ahead with confidence, as if she has traveled this route many times before, and shows her where they can climb up to Willow's window to get inside. While Juliet senses it'd have been perfectly fine for them to use the front door (this isn't the August house) it strikes her that this way is what Grace is accustomed to. Considering she'd prefer to be alone right now, it's for the better that no one sees her entering.

Once they're in Willow's room, Juliet notices rows of claw-marks under and beside the windows, as well as on the floorboards... claw-marks that most certainly were not there before. She raises a brow and looks pointedly at Grace, who huffs and guiltily flattens her ears.

"Tsk. Were you a troublesome guest, Gracie?" Juliet asks with clear affection in her voice, kneeling to the ground and reaching to scratch her companion beneath her chin. She considers what Juniper said and finds herself feeling relieved that she had the opportunity to thank her for taking care of Grace... and of her, too. While Juniper had insisted that looking out for Willow was more than enough for them, she did appear rather pleased by the gift she brought from Folklore. (Hopefully she'll have a similar opportunity to thank Elva as well.) She sighs softly, replaying recent events in her mind. Embarrassment-warm prickles roll over her skin and she shudders. She told Juniper that she didn't need to talk to Meredith on her behalf. Given she drew her knife, Willow's friend had good reason to act like a 'prickly pear'. "I've no right to judge. I've been troublesome, too." She furrows her brow with mock seriousness and nods. "...We're a troublesome pair, you and I." Always have been.

Grace nuzzles her cheek against the palm of Juliet's hand and then points her nose towards the blanket nest. Time to rest. (There's a clearly defined fox shaped imprint in the fort she and Willow arranged during their last visit. She can imagine Gracie diligently guarding it, preventing either of Willow's grandmas from washing Juliet's scent off the blankets. Her red and black jacket is sprawled out nearby as well.) Her companion sprints across the room, dragging every pillow she can find into a pile to help keep Juliet upright and comfortable. While she does this, the archer changes into the spare 'comfy clothes' that Willow purchased for her on their last Evermore visit. She glances over her fading bruises and scars in the mirror as she does, recalling how gentle Juniper had been with her. (She can see where Willow gets it from. Her mind is still struggling to process what Juniper said before. 'She must care about you muchly.' But-- but people tend to surprise themselves in desperate situations. And that was the epitome of a desperate situation... Still. She can't help but curl her toes and brace herself for impact whenever she thinks about it.) Once she's ready, she nestles herself cozily into the fort with Grace.

"You must've been worried." Juliet muses, absentmindedly brushing her fingers over Grace's fur. She's careful to avoid the scars on her back, her wings having melted away again since their escape. The fox's big brown eyes are fixed on the archer in return. Juliet can't help feeling like a lost girl in the wood again, lying across from her companion like this. Since the beginning, they've always looked out for each other. There's no telling what has been happening to Grace lately... but neither of the grandmas mentioned anything worrisome in their letter. Given the way they've cared for her thus far, she thinks they'd have known and said something if they were worried. "Well, it's all right now. I'm going to rest so you don't have to worry about me anymore."

Grace squints at her, skeptical. Okay. Fair.

"...At least for today you won't." Juliet amends, huffing a breathy little laugh as her eyelids drift shut. A heavy feeling of sleepiness blankets over her instantly. "I can't cause any trouble as long as I'm up here, now can I?" This is for the best. Now Willow can enjoy a disaster-free birthday with her family and friends. No one will have reason to heckle Juliet over getting an adequate amount of rest, either.

***​

Meanwhile, a crowd has accumulated around the birthday girl as she beguiles her guests with tales from her adventures in Folklore.

"So you met actual, real-life princes?" Willow's little cousins in particular are eager to have their questions answered, shoving their way to the front of the group with their eyes full of wonder. "And they attacked you? Why would they do that!?" Some of the kids appear frightened by the prospect, some are scandalized, and others are totally invested in the danger and adventure of the narrative. "Willow, were all of the princes complete dingdongs?" "That's a bummer. The storybooks say princes are supposed to be charming."

A few of the children have also gathered around Lucky James as news of their heroics spreads.

"Lucky-ducky James! I heard you saved a princess." Rosenna crashes against the dragon's side, snuggling against them. "You made a whole tower go ka-boom! Is that true?"

 

[starboob]

“Pfft, prince charmings don’t exist. Those are just for the books.” Meredith might have added that they are just things of Folklore, but Willow’s stories more or less prove that even Folklore is full of pieces of shit men. (She had her suspicions, anyway.) “Any man with an ounce of power is a giant pansy.”

“Mer!”

“Usually a giant pansy? That better?”

Willow openly rolls her eyes in spite of her smile. It’s not that she doesn’t entirely disagree with her, but she doesn’t think the kids need to be disillusioned and turned into cynics so soon. They have a lifetime to be disappointed. Why not let them believe in a little magic?

Meredith holds her hands up innocently, but can’t keep her composure before she’s laughing then crashing against Willow, nuzzling into her shoulder while she hangs onto her arm. “I’m just saying. When have I ever been wrong?”

“You’re wrong all the time.” This is an argument they’ve had a thousand times. Sometimes serious, sometimes joking. This time, they’re joking. Willow pokes her side. “You just refuse to believe that people are capable of change or that sometimes even good intentions can hurt another.” Now it’s Meredith’s turn to roll her eyes, but the argument stops there and the storyteller turns back to her gaggle of young cousins. “Not every prince was like Devlin or Bain. Prince Evren became one of our closest allies during the tournament and even during our escape. Prince Ivory was also sympathetic towards us.”

“So a majority of them were as—buttholes. Way to admit I’m right.”

Meanwhile, though Lucky generally hates being referred to as a 'duck' or 'ducky,' Rosenna is not old enough to be hissed at. Simply, the dragon glares at Willow for making that nickname known at all, and then wrestles with Rosenna to show just how strong they are—certainly strong enough to topple one, no, two princess towers!

The party continues on. Crimson and Clover arrive late, apologizing for the delay and blaming it on their “asshole boss.” (A generic swear jar appears next to them.) Meredith and Clover exchange complicated handshakes. Clover and Crimson wrap Willow is a tight (too tight) birthday hug. They do ask about Juliet, genuinely excited to challenge her to a rematch, but the archer is nowhere to be seen. That’s when Willow follows their thread up to her bedroom and guesses that she might be catching up on rest or, perhaps, just hiding from all the attention. (Though that seems less likely, since that is more of a Willow James move.)

All the while, Meredith follows Willow’s gaze and starts to put two and two together. Her lips form a thin line that the sorceress doesn’t immediately notice, but her cousin does. They slink off to keep the younger cousins entertained, sensing that the two best friends might need a moment to catch up.

It all starts casually enough. They’re hiding somewhere in the berry patches and they’ve already smeared berry juice over their cheeks like they used to when they were little kids. Meredith eats a strawberry that she’s speared with the pointy part of her tail, watching her friend as she feeds Valeria (who they are both currently using as a backrest). “So… Juliet.”

“Mhm, Juliet.” Willow nods. She rubs Valeria’s gray nose, giving her a little kiss before she turns back to face Meredith, already knowing what’s coming without it needing to be said. “I found out the second I crashed into her and gave myself a nosebleed. It was… not cute.” She passes a few raspberries over. “I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted you to be the first to know, but the trip back was—”

“—unexpected, I know. Grams told me.” Meredith tosses a berry into the air, then catches it in her mouth. (Willow does not even try to mimic this.) “I gave her the spiel earlier, just so you know. I don’t like her.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Yeah, but I know these threads are all shams.”

“What about grams’?”

“Outliers.”

“Crimson and Clover?”

“Also outliers.”

“So why can’t mine be?”

“I just want you to be careful. You give your heart away too easily.”

Willow rolls her eyes. This is another conversation they’ve had a thousand times before. Of course, she gets it. Meredith hides it well, but she knows she’s been disappointed by her thread since they were fifteen. Even so, she’s a hypocrite and Willow isn’t afraid to point it out. “You’re not as guarded as you pretend and I’ve watched you get hurt just the same.” She turns on her side, resting her elbow against Val. (She snores, unbothered.) “Speaking of, how’s Scott?”

“...” Meredith crosses her arms and scowls, proving her point. “I’m done with him—for good this time. I mean it. Swear.” She huffs, fluffing up her bangs. “He Cosima’d me. Had been the entire time. Even before I found out about Aisling. Then Paul… Ugh.” Both of them go into contemplative silence after that; Willow remembering Cosima and Meredith trying not to think about her latest heartbreak. Meredith butts her head against Willow’s shoulder, nuzzling into her. “You know, I think it’s cool that you’re doing this whole saving love thing. It’s so you, it’s ridiculous.” She looks down at her chest. Though Willow knows she doesn’t often catch glimmers of her thread, Meredith still stares at it from time to time. “If you find a way to clip me from this bitch, promise me you’ll let me know?” (She deposits a quarter into the jar.)

“When we find a stable way to do it, sure. That’s part of the problem actually.” Meredith’s eyes widen, gripping Willow’s arms and begging her to say more, so she explains. She explains everything they’ve uncovered about the cause of the love affliction in Folklore, from the Lightless to the hexed scissors, and then moves onto what they’ve noted in Evermore—Dorothea’s hollow eyes, that creature in the woods, the picture of Kinsley—

“Kinsley Prescot?” Meredith practically hisses the name. “Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

Ahem. The picture of Kinsley and the cult. She doesn’t mention her vision of Dorothea, only because she still doesn’t know what to make of it. So she just ends it with, “Juliet punched Sabrina in the face, then we escaped, and then Jovi did something weird to open a portal to Folklore? We still don’t know what that was about.”

Meredith’s brows rise, a mixture of shock and impressed, clearly still hanging on that bit about someone (Juliet) punching Sabrina in the face. She only got to sucker punch her tit. “Damn.” She gets a quarter ready for the jar and deposits it when it arrives. “Fuck.” And again. “I mean, I knew she was an evil bitch,” that’s seventy-five cents, “but a cult? Honestly, if you weren’t you, I’d think you were lying.” She flops onto her back, sinking into Val’s soft belly. Again, silence passes over them, Meredith thinking and Willow wondering what she’s thinking. “Griffith being involved isn’t that surprising. I’ve known he’s evil since Kinsley’s eighteenth. Fu—ducking sicko. You know, those first round of murders happened right around then. Then they started up again after this failed sacrifice. You think that’s a coincidence?”

“I wondered—”

Before Willow can finish that thought, Leif comes over to announce that it’s time for cake. (Meaning, the children are ready for cake and are done waiting for the birthday girl.) “Clover is going up to get Juliet so she doesn’t miss this. Don't worry, I warned her about the knife incident.” He then explains that Clover seemed oddly excited about the prospect of putting her martial arts skills into practice, for some reason seeing the possibility of having a knife pulled on her as an opportunity. Go figure. This is Clover. Everything is a challenge to her.

***
​

Clover carefully, quietly, lifts the window, and slips through once there is a gap big enough to accommodate her size. Deftly, she rolls over the floor, coming up in a crouched position. One step, then another, inching closer and closer to the slumbering heap and—

Nothing.

Willow James teleports in and yanks on Clover's collar, preventing her from getting within a foot of their blanket fort. Activating Juliet's fight or flight response is not a game. The heroine will not stand for this tomfoolery. "Clovis," she scolds in a whisper. "No. Just no. Go help Meredith entertain the kids for a couple more minutes. I'll be down in a second."

Clover grumbles over the nickname, her ruined plans and accepts defeat. Were this any other day, she might have tried to wrestle the chance from Willow, but it's her birthday, so she listens and goes back out the way she came.

When they're alone Willow comes down to her haunches, peering into the fort. (She has yet to noticed the scratched up floorboards or windowsill.) "Wanna come out for cake? Or do you still want to rest more? It's not flaming red cake, but... cake is cake, I hope." Juliet has her opinions about desserts, after all. "You missed a lot of the food, but I saved you a plate. Or you can wait until after cake, 'cause Mer and the others wanna get pizza from Cheez'd to Meet Ya."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet doesn't come down for cake, ultimately deciding she needs more rest to recuperate after their recent ordeals. She doesn't touch the food Willow set aside for her, either. It's more than just that, but she doesn't say it. She's still queasy at the thought of facing everyone again after her knife incident. She does not wish to be glared at all evening, either. While one might assume she's grown accustomed to such heated stares, it's not by any means a pleasant feeling. Meredith's warning still rings in her head. Stay away. She deserves better. (...Well, she didn't say it in those words exactly. But she didn't have to. It's not as if Juliet disagrees with her, either. It only solidifies what she's already come to understand.) After tossing back and forth with her indecision, she almost decides that she doesn't wish to go for pizza, either... but when she considers the danger they found themselves in during their last Evermore visit, she decides that she should stay close to Willow. She knows better than to let her guard down.

Maybe Juliet's decision also has something to do with that little flicker of disappointment she thought she saw in Willow's eyes when she refused cake. (Or could it be that she was she just imagining that?) Perhaps Willow was actually disappointed that she had to part with Meredith to check on her. It wouldn't be the first time Juliet misunderstood someone's true intentions, inventing affection when there's none to be found. Need she remind herself that Willow and Meredith exchanged kisses earlier? The sorceress arranged her bangs, looked at her intensely... and then she left without saying anything to Juliet. But-- but she did save her a plate. And Juniper did say that-- Ugh. This is why it's easier to be alone.

As the bright, late afternoon sunlight paints Willow's bedroom in vibrant oranges and reds, Juliet copes with her restlessness by getting ready for the evening. She changes into high-waisted short pants, a black shirt, her favorite platform boots and drapes the tattered Pantera jacket over her shoulders like it's one of her cloaks. She also attempts some of the smoky make-up techniques she learned from Dorothea and Kinsley. She does fairly well with it, considering it's only her second time... but she ultimately decides she needs the edge of her knife to steady her hand and apply the eyeliner correctly. As a finishing touch, she slips her Scaramouch charm onto a thin black choker.

Juliet flips her knife from hand to hand when she's finished getting ready, debating leaving it behind when she considers the incident. She shakes her head and tucks it into her pocket. She's only coming in case there's danger... and the one time she leaves it behind will be the time she wishes she had it with her. She won't go into any situation ill-prepared. Mistakes like that can be deadly. Better to be embarrassed than dead...

Even if it doesn't always feel that way. It certainly sounds easier to disappear than deal with existence sometimes. Sensing her companion needs a distraction, Grace shrinks in size and settles onto Juliet's shoulder, wrapping her fluffy tail around her shoulder and nuzzling against her neck.

"Time to go." Juliet nods. Grace boops the archer's nose with her paw, reminiscent of the way Juniper did earlier, and stares at her intently. "Yes, I know what I promised. But that was when I thought we were staying here tonight..." The fox huffs. "I know. I'll try to avoid trouble. Stay close to me and we won't get separated again."

***​

Juliet is present, at least physically, but she's not quite... present. The group they travel to the pizza place with is lively enough that her silence isn't particularly noticeable. Everyone chats and bounces around seamlessly from one subject to the next. There are a lot of words and phrases the archer can't quite keep up with, anyway, and she's not inclined to ruin the flow of the conversation by asking. (She doesn't want to draw any more attention to herself, anyway. It's better just to blend in.) Clover and Crimson pop in at her side on occasion, mentioning their intentions to have a rematch. Leif makes attempts to talk to her, too, mentioning his surprisingly complex process for figuring out the perfect donut for her. Juliet makes an effort to listen, but she's distracted. She can only offer hums and nods when appropriate.

Eventually, the group ends up walking past a sign that says 'Cheez'd to meet ya! Please Seat Yourself.' Juliet slows at the very back of the group, though, her gaze catching the vibrant, flashing lights and noises around the corner. Alert, she wanders away from the group to investigate. She inches towards the corner of the wall and hiding partially behind it as she glimpses inside to see what's happening.

Someone is currently engaged in a heated battle with one of the machines, hunched over it and occasionally shaking it from side to side. Thunk, thunk, thunk. The person repeatedly smacks the sides of the mechanical monster. An explosion sounds out and the multiple eyes lining the monster's body glow with red and orange flickers that resemble flames. The person curses under their breath and then surrenders, storming across the pizza place and back to their table. Now that her view is unobstructed, Juliet notices the glass-- the complex artwork, the shiny knobs and symbols. It appears that a tiny world is trapped inside the machine.

That monster is nothing compared to the one Juliet notices next. The archer creeps closer to it, her heart pounding in her chest, her brown eyes wide. Soulless, unmoving creatures lay in a mass grave encased in glass. A monstrous, boney claw of steel hangs threateningly above them. One of the creatures within is green and round-- an alien buddy? It's nearly identical to Scaramouch in every way. Just larger. Juliet delicately lifts her hand to cover Scaramouch's eyes, shielding her from the sight. This is truly horrifying.

Juliet leaps back like a startled cat when the beast suddenly begins to sing a chipper tune, it's multiple eyes (...lights) winking at her in rainbow patterns. She reaches for her pocket, on the verge of drawing her knife again... but laughter rings out somewhere behind her and she pauses, her cheeks turning bright red. Ah. No one else is reacting in such a way. She's overreacting. (Again.) She curls her fingers away from her pocket, biting her lip hard as she stares at the machine. What is it supposed to be, though...?

 

[starboob]

Something is off with Juliet. When those brown eyes of hers don’t even brighten at the mention of cake, she notices immediately and deflates. Her suspicions double when the plate of food she saved remains untouched on the kitchen table. Sure, Juliet could be saving room for pizza—Willow has yet to expose her to the greasy, ooey gooey deliciousness—but she didn’t even nibble at anything, let alone even try a single morsel. Most disturbing are the five untouched chicken skewers that she saved specifically because she remembers her fondness for them. (Clover ended up swiping one as they left before Willow could stop her. At least someone is enjoying the food.)

Though Willow remains present, more present than Juliet, she can't help the way her eyes keep flickering over to the archer. And it's not just because of that outfit. (On more than one occasion, she loses the conversation to fantasies of Juliet pinning her against wall. Meredith has to gently elbow her side to keep her from outright ogling.) ‘She’s not having fun.’

By the time they've parked outside of Cheez'd to Meet Ya, she's chewed the inside of her cheek raw. ‘Should I… Was this a bad idea?’ Willow wrings her hands together as they enter the noisy establishment. Children scream as they run around the mini-arcade. Cashiers shout orders to the back. The phone lines never stop ringing. This familiarity should all be comforting to Willow, but all she can think about is Juliet.

She knows that everyone else can feel it, too. After Leif's attempt to get something out of the archer falls short of even clarifying her favorite donut, everyone else decides to leave her be. They don't leave her out—no, not at all, but they do stop trying to start conversations with her directly, only leaving openings for her to jump into the larger conversation. She never does, she even drifts towards the back of their group. While everyone else might perceive that Juliet is just tired (which could be a contributing factor), Willow knows better. And because Willow knows something is up, so does Meredith.

Though Meredith is less inclined to do anything about it or even acknowledge that she might be part of the problem. Honestly, the sooner this Juliet August chick fucks off the better. Willow doesn’t need another heartbreak.

Nor does Willow need to be told how her best friend feels about Juliet. She's already told her and she can feel the hostility coming off of her in hot waves. Noticing that Juliet has wandered off, she decides that this might be as good a moment as any to check-in with her. She lets Meredith know she'll find them in a second and that she's just going to go grab Juliet. Meredith gives her a look that says, 'Seriously?' but shrugs and trails after the other kids of the cove.

She finds the Folklorian by the claw machine, catching her just as she jumps back from the contraption as it lights up and tries to entice another player to try their luck. Her hand is just shy of going for her knife pocket so Willow approaches with caution and softly announces herself. “The machines in here are harmless, Juliet. They’ve even got protective charms on them so evildoers can’t turn them against the establishment.” She decides against explaining why there is even a need for such charm in the first place, figuring that Juliet has enough to process as it is. Instead, she explains what the machines are, how they work, and emphasizes that the worst they do is encourage players to spend their quarters by filling them with false hopes of success. "They're rigged. Sometimes you get lucky.” Lucky trills tiredly from her shoulder. (They really tuckered themself out playing with the cousins.) “But, usually, you’re just throwing away quarters.”

She gestures for Juliet to follow her deeper into the arcade section of Cheez’d, pointing out the different games and explaining how they’re mostly just there to encourage customers to stay and buy more pizza. They don’t have prizes like at the Elsefaire. The only prize is getting to enter in your initials if you set a top score. “We can try some out after we eat, if you’d like.”

Willow pauses, stopping in front of one of the machines as she chews on the inside of her lip. This entire time she's been avoiding Juliet's eye, but, finally, she turns to face her. "How are you, Juliet?" Her eyes search her companion's, genuinely wanting to know. Genuinely concerned that she might be dragging Juliet around like she's a little kid stuck on endless errands. “I know that Meredith is… a lot. She told me that she spoke to you already. I should have warned you that she would.” She probably shouldn't have left Juliet alone with her either. At least not before warning her of how protective her best friend is of her. Her brows scrunch up together, visibly beating herself up over the oversight. "She's like this with everyone. But underneath her tough exterior, she is a sweetheart. You just kind of have to put up with it and fire back. She’s not like Lavinia or Kinsley, eventually she will come around. She always does.”

That’s the thing about Meredith. She’s harsh to scare people away, but she’s one of the softest people that Willow knows. Aside from herself, she might be the softest person in Elsewhere. “If you want, I can make sure you two don't have to interact too much if you're uncomfortable. I mean, I can't do anything tonight. The Rhode Island house is her home and she is staying the night," she explains. "But for the rest of our time in Evermore I can do my best to keep you two separated. I want you to have a good time while you're here and... If you’re not having a good time… You don’t have to stay." She sighs and, before she can even think to stop herself, she blurts out, "I mean, I do want you here. I’ve missed you.” A blush marches across her cheeks, though the blinking red lights around them do somewhat disguise it. Too bad they don't also disguise the shake in her nervous chuckle or the slight quiver to her tone. “Sorry, that’s, like, super clingy. You were just taking a nap and that's, like, totally allowed.”

No one’s ever liked her when she’s clingy. Sabrina used to get so annoyed whenever she wanted to hang out. Not that she should be using that relationship as a comparison for literally anything and yet she can’t help herself. She never felt more unwanted than when she was with her—which is impressive considering that Ryan would flirt with other girls right in front of her and Cosima… Cosima literally just used her for research. She doesn’t get the sense that Juliet is anything like them and, honestly, if she were, Willow wouldn’t put up with her. She knows her worth by now and she’s still trying to shake those old lessons.

“Uh, anyway, if you’re not into any of this, you don’t have to tough it out for my sake.” She scratches her cheek, looking down at her grass stained white Converse, then up to her grass and berry stained overalls. (Ugh, here she is, looking like a toe and Juliet looks like an absolute babe.) “You look really nice, by the way. That’s a bitchin’ outfit.”

 

[ellarose]

"You look like you were eating berries." Juliet offers an observation of her own in return before fully processing the fact that Willow James just complimented her outfit. And she did so with what she understands is a swear. (...Willow rarely ever swears.) Juliet tugs awkwardly at Scaramouch. That wasn't an even remotely normal thing to say in response, was it? Willow's overalls are covered in the stains, however... she can smell them on her, too. Now that she's thinking of berries she can feel her appetite coming back. "Were they tasty? I hear they taste especially good on birthdays." What. What. "...Many happy returns of the day."

Unfortunately, talk of berries and birthday wishes will not distract Willow forever. Juliet must address what has been said, though she is unused to conversations such as these. Willow doesn't hold up walls of formality. She speaks her mind. There's no feasible way to run from the subject now.

"I thought..." Juliet hesitates, glancing warily at the machine to her left when it excitedly chirps and lights up. 'Calm down.' She reprimands the machine... but perhaps she really ought to be telling herself. For some inexplicable reason, her heart is galloping in her chest. It distracts her and a few moments later, she realizes she left her sentence unfinished. She thought what? Well, she had much on her mind and Willow has given her even more to think about. Amidst it all, three words specifically echo in her mind. 'I've missed you.' Her face prickles with heat. "I thought you wouldn't want me here after what I did." Threads of embarrassment tighten around her chest as she dredges it back to the surface. 'Breathe, Juliet.'

"The knife." Juliet continues apologetically, nearly wincing. "It was instinct, I didn't mean to..." The archer bites her lip uncertainly, her cheeks blushing an even deeper red. "I'm sorry." Willow is looking at her like she's genuinely interested in hearing what she has to say and does not seem as though she is about to chastise her for her display earlier. Still, she braces herself for the worst. "You've missed your family dearly. I didn't want to ruin your birthday by causing more trouble than I already have."

Juliet pauses after this admission, awaiting an accusatory gaze that never comes. She isn't sure what to say as she considers Willow's offer to keep some distance from Meredith, either. It's rare that she finds herself in a situation where accommodations are made for her comfort. Usually she is the one expected to make such accommodations for everyone else. (Because it seems no matter how fast she runs, she is always the one who needs to catch up.) Still. The sorceress has enough to worry about in Evermore without this... whatever this is.

Juliet and Meredith are not children. Surely such interference on her part is unnecessary? Then again, she recalls Juniper offering to speak with Meredith on her behalf earlier. Was it not just the knife that she was upset about? Briefly, she glances at the thread hanging between her and Willow's chests. Perhaps she needs to clarify that she does not intend to interfere with their... their relationship...? Her stomach twists at the thought.

"You needn't go to such lengths on my behalf." Juliet says this matter-of-factly, but she can't quite bring herself to meet Willow's gaze as she thinks back to the kisses they exchanged in the barn. "It seems you two are very close. If it makes you and Meredith more comfortable, I can sleep in the barn with Grace to offer you some privacy."

Juliet's stomach twists again, harder this time. It is rather strange to accept this truth while Willow looks at her in such a way. Claiming to miss her, complimenting her outfit... but she is only being kind. She mustn't mistake her kindness for anything else. It is not as if she is looking... or hoping for anything with... no. She's quite finished with love.

"So much has happened recently." Juliet supposes she doesn't need to elaborate too much on this, considering they've traveled together all this time. "I am..." Tired? Overwhelmed? (She shouldn't burden Willow with those things.) "It is not as though I do not wish to be here. I am curious about these machines and the triangles of cheese. If it was just us..." She blushes again and backtracks. "Everyone has been tremendously kind to me. I just feel rather..." Out of place.

 

[starboob]

Yes, Willow supposes she does look like she’s been eating berries. Her cheeks are probably still stained from when Meredith smeared berry juice all over them while she innocently tried to find the berriest of all berries. (Naturally, Willow returned the favor and, now that she’s thinking about it, Meredith’s cheeks were still tinted purple… So that can only mean… Oh no.) She has got to up her outfit game if this is going to Juliet’s Evermore style. Though Willow’s wardrobe is far more colorful and full of fun prints, that doesn’t mean she won't try to complement Juliet's style.

Her mind floods with ideas, mentally putting together outfits with the different pieces from her stolen wardrobe. Willow becomes so distracted with this task that she almost misses what Juliet is actually saying about her birthday berries. (They were tasty, but she thinks that has more to do with the season than the day itself.) Before she can say anything, Juliet says something so upsetting that it puts all those thoughts to rest.

She blinks. Then again, frowning. “Juliet…” Her voice is barely audible over all these machines, all these screaming children and laughing teens. Yet somehow the only person who exists right now is Juliet, because of all the people in this crowded place, Juliet is the one who matters the most. Her fellow heroine. The person who has been waiting for her at the end of their thread. And her cheeks are stained red with embarrassment or maybe shame or maybe an overwhelming mixture of the two. (Definitely not berries.) “I haven’t even thought of the knife incident since it happened.” Though a lot happened following the incident. Even so, she never once faulted the archer for her actions. She’s the girl who grew up in the wood, who grew up fighting monsters and beasts, who has the battle scars to prove that her survival has been every inch a defiance against everything that has ever tried to harm her. Were it not for her, Willow would be covered in more than just bruises and scrapes. She might very well have become ogre food that first day. (Well, no. Probably not. Lucky wouldn’t allow for that. Even so, she’s saved her life and used her body as a shield more times that Willow can even count.) “You could never ruin my birthday. I want you here.”

There is so much more she wishes she could say, but she doesn’t really want to say those things at Cheez’d. Nor does she wish to scare Juliet off with her too big feelings, bigger and more vast than the ocean. She holds it in. Another time, a better place, she decides.

She purses her lips together in an exaggerated look of displeasure when she offers to sleep in the barn. “As if! Absolutely not. No. Erase that suggestion from your brain at once, missy.” She even puffs her cheeks like a faerie for good measure and desperately hopes that Juliet understands she’s only joking. She doesn’t clarify, but she does make it known who she’d rather spend the night with in her own roundabout way. “Meredith has her own room at home.” Not that Meredith ever uses or used that room. The two of them basically shared Willow’s all through high school, but she was given one when she started living at the Rhode Island house more or less full time. “She can either play nice and camp in our fort with us or she can sleep in her room. You’re not sleeping in the barn, Juliet. That’s ridiculous.”

And she continues to be ridiculous in her uniquely Juliet August way; the way that always brings a grin to her features. Triangles of cheese. Why does Juliet have to be so gosh darn cute? But beneath her amusement, she also understands where the Folklorian is coming from. She’s been that stranger in a strange land before. “It’s overwhelming, being in a new place. I felt the same way being in Folklore for the first time, but I had you there to help me. You have me here to help you.”

After a beat, a moment longer to themselves, Willow takes Juliet’s hand and, just for a second or maybe more, she considers the exit; considers ditching her family to wander the streets of Elsewhere with Juliet; considers a fantasy where they do just run away and make a world of their own, like they used to. (What?) But the moment passes as quick as it comes and she veers towards the back corner booth where they all usually sit. (The entire time, her cheeks are burning, thinking about Juliet’s hand in hers, but it’s only practical that she does this. In Evermore, Juliet tends to be more distracted and is prone to wandering off, much like Willow was when she first arrived in Folklore. ...Who is she kidding, she’s still like that.)

Meredith automatically scoots further into the u-shaped seat to make room for Willow and, begrudgingly, Juliet. She doesn’t pause her story and barely even takes a breath between talking and shoving another flaming hot wing into her mouth (to which she’s already added an ungodly amount of hot sauce; no one touches the basket of wings sitting in front of her). “—I swear to the fucking gods, I was going to beat the shit out of that bitch. But she ended up being pretty cool so now we’re getting coffee next week.”

Clover rolls her eyes. Crimson snickers and says, “How many of your relationships have started because you wanted to fight them? Maybe you just skip to the part where your tongues wrestle instead.”

Meredith wrinkles her nose and pushes away her now empty basket of wings. “For the love of Reputation, can you please ditch the shitty romance novel vocabulary? I promise you, good romance novels exist and you are actively avoiding them at this point.”

Ah, the age old argument, it seems. Willow smiles to herself, shaking her head. She then reaches over the table for the lemon pepper wings, not realizing that she has not let go of Juliet’s hand even though they're at their destination. She only seems to realize this error when she tries to grab a napkin with her other hand and pulls her companion’s hand with her. “Oh...” She blushes furiously while Crimson and Clover giggle. Meredith rolls her eyes. “Do you want… a napkin?”

Crimson and Clover might have vaporized from laughter, but Leif comes back to the table with their order number on a miniature cone. He tosses it on the table and, like magic, it fixes itself to the center. A little red light blinks at the top. When he sits down, the sudden slump of his weight causes the entire seat cushion to ripple, puffing up from Clover all the way down to Juliet. “I ordered your garbage pizza, since it’s your birthday. And for everyone with taste, I got the works.” Which means he got one of everything, but of course Leif can’t just say that. He has to specifically call out Willow’s taste for tropic pizza. It’s sweet, it’s savory, it’s everything. Willow James will die on this hill.

“Hey!” She pops up from the seat, slamming one palm down on the table and waving an accusatory wing at him in mock offense. “Mom liked it!”

“Mom had terrible taste.” Leif grins and swipes the wing right out of Willow’s hand. He chomps down on it before she even has the chance to take it back. “Case and point—ow!” He scowls at Clover who scolds him with a look, gesturing to Willow with her eyes. (Willow is noticeably tense now.) “Chillax, I’m not that tactless. Not on Willy’s special day.” Willow glares at him and sits back down, a new wing in hand to replace the one Leif is eating. “Anyway, point taken. But I’m still right: Pineapple on pizza is ass. Juliet, your thoughts?”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet August might be fast, but she is still trying to keep up. Everything moves so quickly here.

The sibling's banter is fast-paced. Wings are stolen, glares are exchanged, and the subject is dropped in a matter of seconds. Well, not exactly. Because now everyone is looking at her. (...Except for Meredith. Juliet is perfectly fine with this. She does not need to be perceived to be content. Tonight she would rather prefer blending into the background of this place like a shadow. But now everyone is looking at her.) Juliet bites her lip. She is still much further behind than all of this, a foolish and soft remnant of her heart still lingering on the recent memory of Willow's hand clasped around her own. 'I want you here.' The sorceress offers her warmth and safety. 'You're not sleeping in the barn, Juliet. That's ridiculous.' A place to belong. 'You have me here to help you.' She's never really belonged anywhere before. Does she lean in towards everything she's always wanted? Does she trust it?

"...What is pizza?" Juliet asks, squinting confusedly. The table erupts into chaos.

It takes some time before Juliet realizes that the 'triangles of cheese' she's been seeing are actually called 'pizza'. (If she hadn't had so much on her mind before, she might have gathered that sooner.) Leif and Clover are particularly distraught over the fact that no one in Folklore has tried pizza-- and that she hasn't, either. All of their fuss and attention has her feeling a bit tense again, the attention dredging back memories from the barn earlier. She tries again to brush them away as the conversation continues around her. It seems that no one is treating her any differently than they did before. Eventually, the conversation is less about the kind of life Juliet has led thus far without pizza in it and more a lesson on pizza and what it is. They introduce her to the concept of 'toppings'. Apparently, pizza can vary depending on the types of cheese, the sauce, the crust, seasonings and toppings. It does sound rather complex. Opinions on the aforementioned tropic pizza are particularly vehement.

It is not the strangest food Juliet has ever heard of by any means. After living with Millie for a couple of years, she's eaten some particularly vibrant colored stews and mushrooms. The concept of pineapple and cheese is not quite so odd by comparison.

"Would you put strawberries on a pizza?" Juliet is firmly of the opinion that strawberry toppings make everything better. "I think I would like that."

"...Oh. Oh no. That might be even worse than the pineapple." Clover admits, hissing through her teeth as if the concept just physically wounded her. Leif is looking at the ceiling as if he is on the verge of passing out at the prospect.

"She's gonna be team Willow on this one. I'm calling it now." Crimson says, wagging a wing at them. "You best believe they're gonna have you taste testing every type of pizza we ordered, Juliet. I hope you're hungry." Then she pushes the basket of wings towards the archer. "Speaking of, you haven't eaten anything yet! Help yourself."

"...Have you tried wings yet?" Clover pivots curiously now that they're on the subject. She and Leif lean in. With the wings are right in front of her, they make it clear that they're going to want opinions if she tries them here and now.

"Yes, of course I have." Juliet nods sagely. Clover and Leif deflate-- perhaps with relief? "When I was living in the wood I would often cook gargoyle wings." Their relief is short-lived. They jerk back into their former upright positions, their eyes wide with disbelief. Clover mouths 'gargoyle wings?' with something like horror. "I often had to eat them raw or salted, though. I did not have access to sauces such as these." The thought of gargoyle wings with sweet and savory smelling sauces such as these... that sounds very nice.

"Ch-- Chicken wings. We're talking about proper chicken wings here." Leif shakes his head hurriedly, clarifying and gesturing to the basket. "Like these."

"Oh. I have eaten chicken wings as well." Juliet considers, glancing down at the basket. She picks one up, noting the sticky sauce that clings to her fingertips. (Mother would be horrified.) "Albeit not like these ones." She tilts her head to the side as she studies it. "This sort of food is uncommon... even in the kingdom. Something like this would ruin a lady's gloves. That just wouldn't do." She smiles mischievously at the thought and takes a bite. Wearing short pants, eating messy food... she's more determined to catch up here than she ever was in the kingdom. It's good. She presses her lips together to taste the lingering honey-flavored sauce on them and gives a satisfied nod of approval.

"You didn't introduce her to wings last time? Or pizza!?" Leif turns to his sister, his hands clutched dramatically to the sides of his head. "I can understand waiting on the wings, but pizza?"

"Willow has introduced me to many new foods. I was never hungry." Juliet intervenes on Willow's behalf. "Donuts, soft pretzels, the five out of five star potato branches... the meat cheese bread and the melted crispy cheese bread." She takes another bite of her wing. Her appetite is slowly but surely returning the more they speak of food. "The fluffy strawberry drink. Evermore has many appetizing foods." There was much more than just that, too. She scrunches her nose. "...Although the edible clouds at the faire were very peculiar. They turned my mouth blue."

It takes Leif and Clover a couple of seconds to decode everything that Juliet just said.

"Sorry. I'm still stuck on gargoyle wings. Are we going to talk about the gargoyle wings?" Crimson raises her eyebrows, looking around the table and pausing when she lands on Willow. "Have you tried gargoyle wings?" Then she crosses her arms. "And the real question: would you put them on a pizza?"

 

[starboob]

It is a moral failing on Willow’s part that she never introduced Juliet to pizza during her first visit to Evermore. That should have been priority number one. She now understands the folly of her ways. She wishes for nothing more than to hide her face underneath a paper bag, so ashamed she is.

More seriously, she just rolls her eyes with a smile at the overdramatic accusations. (Meredith remains quiet this entire time, though even she can’t hide her curiosity when Juliet first mentioned gargoyle wings. And she can’t hide it when Crimson brings it back into the conversation again. She seems mildly grateful that she doesn’t have to bring it up herself.) “No, no. I didn’t try gargoyle wings, so I can’t say whether or not they’d make a good pizza topping.”

It says a lot about Juliet’s lifestyle that when they mentioned wings her immediate association were ones from gargoyles. (How does that even work? Willow thought gargoyles were all made of stone. The ones in Evermore are, at least.) She looks at her, lost in the way this not-so-great pizza lighting still makes her look like the sun. It glistens off the sauce covering the corners of her mouth. Ah.

Willow snaps back to her cousin and brother before she can get too lost in a fantasy. (Meredith looks like she wants to puke.) “I can’t say I tried too many things that we don’t already have here. Evermore’s been able to innovate. Folklore is curiously stuck in the past.” Briefly, all those rocket ships of Penny’s come to mind. She wonders how Penelope and Edie are doing, whether Alfonse has come around, whether they’ve been allowed to finally—

“But pizza ought to be a staple everywhere. What even is innovative about good ol’ carbs on carbs with tomato?” Leif is still in disbelief that Folklore could be a place full of such depravity. Clover rubs his shoulder consolingly, though she’s noticeably less serious. “There, there, Leifton. If Willow ditches us again, maybe she can become famous for introducing them to ‘za. Maybe that’d cure love?”

“If only,” Willow blows out a raspberry. “I don’t think pizza is going to fix all the thread tampering happening over there. Although, maybe it would ruin those hexed scissors.” She considers this for a moment, sipping thoughtfully on her pink lemonade. “No, no—that still wouldn’t stop the wizards or sorcerers who are making them in the first place.”

She drums her fingers against the table, staring off as if she is on the cusp of an answer. But it doesn’t come. Instead, their pizza arrives. The cone at the center of their table flashes green three times and, collectively, the group removes their elbows from the table to make room. Willow nudges Juliet to do the same. A portal opens above their heads and thirteen piping hot pies descend like UFOs from the ceiling.

Leif, being the tallest, grabs for them as they descend on their floating platters and organizes them into a leaning tower of pizza between Crimson and Meredith. (Ugh, in true Leif fashion, he ordered the largest size for all thirteen. There’s no way they’re going to finish all of this!) Plates then clatter unceremoniously in the middle and they each grab for one (Willow gets one for Juliet). “Alrighty, Juliet. The moment of truth.” Leif looks at her with the utmost seriousness. It's probably the most serious he’s been since his career as a pro-athlete. “I need a thorough ranking of your pizza preferences. I have some magical brownies to encourage your appetite if you hit the food wall. Willow, don’t even start. She had some at the barbecue last time.”

Willow looks entirely scandalized. The slice of tropic pizza she had been lifting droops and about half the hot melty cheese and toppings slide right off. Meredith rolls her eyes and helps Willow recover her slice, then grabs one for herself. (She doesn’t mind the pineapple being there and will take sides depending on who she wants to piss off more whenever the debate arises.) “Be serious.”

“She was stoned to the bone,” Clover confirms, grabbing a slice of pizza with barbecue sauce in place of tomato, topped with barbecue chicken, bacon, and red onions. “We all were.”

This actually gets Meredith to smile. She still doesn’t address Juliet, but she does talk around her, which is an improvement. “Wills, she’s a big girl. If she wants to be a rotten stoner like the rest of us, who the fuck cares? I bet Folklore has some littie titties drugs. I mean, imagine real and actual magic mushrooms.”

Willow knows that magical mushrooms already exist in Evermore, thanks to Sawyer. (This begs the question: How did Sawyer get them here? How long has she been in contact with the other side? Does Willow even want to know??)

“Well, as long as they aren’t as strong as that batch you gave me on prom night…” She relents, slumping down in her seat with her Frankenstein’s monster looking slice.

“You were chill for most of prom,” Meredith points out. Then her grin turns mischievous. “Until you almost puked on Kinsley. Missed opportunity in my opinion.”

“She was dressed like a mirrorball and it was making me dizzy!” That’s only part of the reason why she almost puked. The more accurate reason is because she saw Dorothea and Griffith dancing together and everyone knew what was going to happen afterwards, because his goons kept bragging about how prom night would turn him into a real king. He never spread the rumors directly, but he also didn’t put a stop to them. (Little did he know what Dorothea had been up to that last summer.) “She still dresses like that.”

“You saw Kinsley recently?” Meredith says this through a mouthful of a pesto cheese slice. “When? No, better question: Why?”

“Literally ran into her at the Elsefaire.” Willow folds up her destroyed pizza and takes a bite. So good. Grease dribbles down her chin. She barely notices. “Juliet actually hung out with her for an entire afternoon the last time she was here. It’s how she scored that Pantera.”

Meredith’s amber eyes widen, questions flitting visibly across her face, but she’s too stubborn to ask Juliet anything directly. Crimson, however, is not stubborn and has no beef with Juliet. Like a more civilized person, between bites of pepperoni, she shifts the attention back to Juliet. “Why were you hanging out with a Prescot? Was she all spooked over those werewolf attacks and hired you as a bodyguard?” This isn't even that farfetched. Juliet has apparently taken down gargoyles before. “Gods, are you okay? I’d rather rip off my nails than hang out with anyone from Charming Street.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet discreetly gazes around the table before she even touches her slice, gauging how everyone eats their triangles of-- pizza. No one uses forks or knives, eating with their hands just as they did with the wings. Once she confirms this, she pokes the crust to assess the texture and studies the slice in front of her with a discerning squint. Hm. It's just cheese, glistening with grease. ('Simple but classic' is how Leif chose to describe it earlier.) While it lacks the many, many toppings covering the other pizzas at their table, it doesn't make her assessment of this Evermore delicacy any less thorough. Finally lifting her slice, she follows Willow's lead and folds her slice in half.

...The verdict? It melts in her mouth. The sauce, cheese and dough all compliment each other in perfect harmony. Pizza is fucking good. Juliet is eager to try the varieties with toppings. (She may not need the help of the magical brownies, having hardly eaten anything until now.) She's so taken with the experience that it takes her a moment to notice the conversation shifting back over to her. She bites the side of her lip as she considers the 'werewolf' attacks... after sharing a brief glance at Willow, she decides not to correct them. As perhaps the only two outside of the Charming Street inner circle to know what really happened that night, they need to be careful not to endanger anyone else with that knowledge. For Sawyer's sake, she hopes they'll be able to expose the truth just as they exposed King Cedrick's lies in Okeanos.

"Dorothea invited us. They rented the mall." Juliet nods distractedly, scooping her hand carefully beneath her pizza as some of the cheese droops off. "She thought I should model the jacket at a... gala? So they were styling me." Dorothea pushed this concept more than Kinsley... though they more they helped her and could envision a look coming together, the more she seemed to warm up to the idea. (Well. As much as Kinsley Prescot could warm up to such an idea. It's not much.) Dorothea insisted that she didn't have to worry about attending the gala. But it does make Juliet wonder. Is something going to happen at the gala? (Or has the gala already happened?) Is it something that they ought to be present for? After what happened to Jovi... she resolves to ask Willow about this later, when they're alone. Her cheeks almost blush again, at the thought of being alone again after--

"My adventurous lifestyle ripped the jacket." Juliet muses, considering the tears on the sleeves and what Dorothea had said about holes in pants. (Technically, it's all because of Sabrina's attack anyway. A Charming Street attack, related to a situation Dorothea and Kinsley were directly involved in... really, they only have themselves to blame for the current state of the Pantera jacket. The archer is of the opinion that it looks better this way. Kinsley will certainly disagree.) She smirks, once more relishing in being messy. "...Kinsley will be quite cross with me when we next meet."

"Damn." Leif gives a low whistle. His mouth is still slightly full when he speaks.

"Question." Clover gestures to Willow, still holding her half-eaten slice. "Why did you leif her alone with them?" (Leif playfully threatens to dump parmesan on her at this.)

"We're on a quest. There were many things to attend to that day." Juliet nods thoughtfully. She won't disclose the details, but she does remember that Willow felt guilty for leaving her there. (The memory of her embrace when she saved her from Sabrina makes her blush. Again. Fuck.) They both had their parts to play. She didn't blame her for even an instant. "I didn't think anything of it, really. I've faced worse foes than Kinsley Prescot in Amoria." She admits with a shrug, taking her second slice of pizza. This one is covered in vegetables.

The others exchange glances at this, but Juliet doesn't notice as she assesses her pizza slice.

After spending nearly a lifetime in Amoria's stifling, noble social circles... a single afternoon spent with Dorothea and Kinsley at the mall barely fazed Juliet at all. The only source of tension was Huxley, the feeling that they were being watched as well as the unspoken threats she was perceiving from that dastardly 'Griffith'. If anything, arguing with Kinsley amounted to nothing more than a fun distraction... especially as she began to wonder if Dorothea was suffering as she once did with Brooks behind closed doors.

"Kinsley probably dresses in fine things to hide the fact that her insults are cheap." Juliet continues. "...Arguing with her is entertaining, I suppose. I'm seldom allowed to speak my mind the same way in the kingdom."

Glances are exchanged once again. Juliet is still too preoccupied with her pizza to notice. She decides to pick the tropic pizza next. She takes a bite, tilting her head to the side as she considers the flavor. It's sweet and tangy. Nostalgic, really, a pleasant reminder of the islands. (Befitting of the name, she supposes.)

"I like the tropic pizza. Very nice." Juliet nods her approval at Willow. Then she addresses the rest of the table. "...Now I have a question. Do any of you buy the pants with holes in them?"