Realistic or Modern Phantom Voices | ellarose & Syntra

[Syntra]

...pies. Fucking pies. Like, seriously? What were they going to try and scare her with next, donuts? Donuts that - le gasp! - weren't sweet enough? Oooh, Thea was shaking in her boots, alright. Please, please, anything but villainous villainous pastry! That was her fucking Achilles' left heel, as all the cool kids said. (Privately, though? She had to admit that there was something unsettling about this set-up, after all. Not to the extent of a deranged zombie chasing them across the cemetery, or an equally deranged teacher advocating against lying, but just... slightly odd, you know? The same 'wait, what the fuck' type of feeling you got when you had been looking for your keys for hours and finally discovered them on the fucking table-- and you were like 95% sure you'd looked there before because duh, what kind of maniac wouldn't check the most obvious spot ever. ...except that, for the sake of making the analogy more accurate, imagine that instead of them being on the table, a faceless bastard emerged out of nowhere and handed them to you. So yeah, maybe it wasn't quite like that! ...piss off. Metaphors were hard, okay? And since nobody was paying Thea anything for inventing hers, she could get as creative with them as she liked. Yup, creative. That was the word dumbasses who had no idea what they were doing used to mask their own incompetence, right? Great camouflage, ten out of ten!)

Speaking of camouflage, though? Thea's was perfect, really-- despite the sense of dread slowly expanding in her chest, she managed to look about as unimpressed as humanly possible. "Mandatory pies? What kind of totalitarian regime is that?" she whispered in Clara's ear. "Like, not to downplay the horrors of pie tyranny, but it doesn't seem that bad. Not in comparison with, say, the guillotine. Or being drowned." Not that you couldn't torture people with food, mind you-- Thea's middle school cafeteria had gotten dangerously close to that, with steaks so tough you could probably break someone's skull if you were to use them as a boomerang, or soups that all doubled as laxatives. (In the light of this revelation, could you blame her for playing truant at the time? Just, c'mon. Not only had she been trying to protect her dignity, but also her very life! The cooks could have snapped at any time, and started trying to add unruly students into their culinary experiments. Would you truly trust anyone deranged enough to not only add pineapple on pizza, but to pair it with fucking tuna? Yeah, exactly.)

'Out of peach,' one of the voices in her head practically sang, in this annoying, nasal voice, 'out of peach, you'll get beech!' ...which, what? Not to flaunt her oh so impressive education, buuut didn't you usually get peach trees from peaches? It seemed like one of those axiomatic statements, such as 'water is wet' and 'math classes suck'. So, again, what the fuck? (Maybe Thea should make a convenient little sign with that question and just wear it like a necklace, or something. In this bullshitty parody for actual school, it would save her a lot of breath!)

...ah, okay. Clara's comments kinda contextualized it, though not really in a way that would actually be useful-- nooo, that would have been too fucking boring, apparently. Instead, the stupid voices that lived rent-free in their heads provided """clues""" with all the usefulness of wet toilet paper. Like, thank you very much, mysterious mentor! This vitally important info sure would have come in handy had they not needed a team of top-notch cryptologist to figure out what the hell it meant in the first place. No worries, though! It wasn't like Thea had planned to live past her 24th birthday or anything, really. With the climate change fucking the Earth up so badly, dying was actually just a blessing in disguise.

"Wanna hear more insane ramblings? If so, you're in luck. You see, my voices told me what happens when we pick the peach. We're supposed... to get a beech? Look," she shrugged, "don't question it. Or like, you can, but it'll be like barking at a cat and hoping it'll fucking bark back. None of this makes any sense, so I'm not gonna pretend it does."

...still, beeches were pretty harmless, weren't they? Some particularly villainous specimen had snatched people's wigs, yeah, and Thea was also pretty sure a lot of lumberjacks died every year shortly after discovering why it was so important to estimate trajectories of falling trees carefully, but c'mon. That was all just self-defense! In general, trees were bros-- they made oxygen for the rest of the planet, and the biggest bros of them all even produced delicious, delicious fruit. So, what could possibly go wrong with this choice? (In hindsight, that line of thought should have served as a warning. It didn't, though, and so Thea got to enjoy her sweet, sweet ignorance for a while longer.)

"I mean, peach doesn't sound that tragic? Better than snapping and fear, anyway. Not sure about you, but I've made my choice."

Confidently, she rose from her chair-- no point in prolonging this bullshit, right?

"Which one will it be, Miss?" one of those faceless freaks smiled.

"A slice of peach pie, please."

"Oh, peach, peach, peach. Want to take the easy way out, huh? Do you think the coward's path will lead to happiness, Dorothea?"

Instantly, a frown settled on her lips. "First of all, it's Thea, thank you very much. And like, what's the point of even giving me a choice if you're gonna criticize it? Either let me pick the flavor in peace or shove whatever you want me to eat down my fucking throat. Okay?"

"...the one who rejects advice deserves it not," the cook remarked, which, boo fucking hoo. Not accepting advice from people who didn't even have the decency to wear their fucking faces only seemed wise to Thea, really!

So, without hesitation, she reached for a piece of the peach pie. Nothing could go wrong with that, right? Except that then, then there was a loud crack-- as loud as if the floor itself was being torn apart, or maybe the planet's core, really, but that... wasn't what was happening. No, the sounds were coming from the pie! It shook and vibrated, full of this explosive energy, and afterwards? A fucking tree sprouted from it, as tall as if it had been growing for hundreds of years. Wow, okay. Okay, why not!

"A beech!" the cook exclaimed. "How exciting. Now, everyone knows what a beech means. Don't you, children?" All the faceless heads nodded in unison, as if they'd asked them to solve the 1 + 1 = ? equation.

"Climb it and bring us a fresh peach, girls, or face death. Surely, you understand? We do need more peaches in order to bake another batch of pies, after all. If you don't deliver, we'll have to make them from your flesh."

 

[ellarose]

A barking cat, huh. That invited a very specific image and tune into Clara's head. And not a helpful one, mind you. You’re no status quo calico, so why keep trying to be? ‘Cause you’re more than that. You’re a doggish cat— and yeah, this was not the time for songs from Barbie’s Princess and the Pauper to be playing in her head, damn it! But it stirred up a twinge of sadness in her and with a forlorn expression, she couldn't stop herself from wishing she could have gone home as planned tonight. Yep, she remembered when that was the plan. Back before the universe threw axe murderers, zombies and these faceless creeps at her. And now pie? Had she made it home instead, she would be sprawled out in bed with her silly 'happy thoughts' playlist blaring in her ears. Now wasn't the time to sit around feeling sorry for herself either, though. If she and Thea waited this out just a while longer, they could watch the other students carefully to see how they--

Oh. Oh no. Why was Thea getting up? They haven't discussed this nearly enough to be making decisions already!

"Huh? Thea--" Clara doesn’t know why she bothered. This is totally in line with what happened in the classroom earlier, when she jumped the gun and took her seat! "Thea, wait." No point. The other woman was already out of earshot and in a matter of seconds was already getting into it with one of those faceless cooks. This was going to be a disaster, wasn't it? There wasn't any scenario in which this wouldn't be a disaster. Now, she hated introductions. But they had sounded innocent enough in that classroom setting and then somehow evolved from fears, to choking, to drowning, to-- Dorothea? Huh.

There wasn't time to facepalm, physically or mentally, as this train sped off the tracks at a rate that she was not even remotely comfortable with and— and damn it, this is precisely why she made a chart! A chart which remained at their table, untouched and abandoned. Clara was prepared to solve this puzzle, okay? Or to try and figure out at least a semblance of a plan in a situation that felt like something out of a fever dream. Now, as a tree inexplicably shot up from a pie and the cook cryptically hinted that they might become the ingredients in the next round... ah. Well, great. Fantastic. They've officially just reinstated their tickets on the S.S. Death Machine. All aboard!

Just like Clara wasn’t wearing the right make-up for crying, she wasn’t wearing the right clothes for climbing either. A skirt, first of all, was not ideal for all the obvious reasons. And second of all, her woolen sweater would attract burs from a beech like flies to honey. And third of all? Did it mean to say 'squirrels' instead of girls? Like, what did they look like? A pair of koalas? Sloths maybe? Because she can't speak for Thea, considering she was a self-proclaimed Indiana Jones level escapist and everything, but tree climbing was not on her resume.

"Hold on. Can't you see that you're sending us on a fool's errand? We'll wear ourselves out climbing and ultimately won't find any fresh peaches, because peaches don't grow on--"

"You can do anything if you put your mind to it! Right, kids?’ The faceless cook interrupts. The students cheer. Clara looked unimpressed. "You should know, Clara. It must have taken extraordinary dedication to go six whole years without saying a single word." Ugh. That wasn't how aphonia worked. Okay, maybe it developed into selective mutism as she healed-- but what was the point of explaining anything in this place? The lying teacher hated lies and the cooks wanted ingredients from places where they weren't going to find ingredients. The cook clicked its sharp fingers against the table, kind of like the teacher did before. The sound of the clock ticking down to something awful, no doubt.

Then again, trees don't grow from pies either. And it just happened right in front of her eyes. Maybe the little girl's imagination fueled what they were seeing? If that was the case... The ache in her neck bloomed again as an overdramatic yawn echoed in her head. You know what you should really put your mind to? Ripping their throats out.

No. Clara thought scoldingly. Then, with caution, she touched the back of her neck and reaffirmed her stance. No.

"You didn't scream, not even when they locked you up in that closet. You were in there aaaaaall weekend until the janitor found you Monday morning."

"...Yeah, well." Clara steeled herself with a reminder to stay present despite the, ah, conversation playing out in her head? If they wanted her to cry, they'd have to try a whole lot harder than that. It'd be nice if they stopped digging around in her past for ammunition, though. "Dedication won't make peaches grow."

"It's unfortunate you've got such a smart mouth now." The cook's head tilted and crackled. It was reaching in its apron pocket for something. Let's be real. It was probably a knife. It was probably a knife and it was going to say something about shutting her up with it, because that would be really on par with everything else that's happened tonight. "You too, Dorothea. I think we should take care of that." It nodded to the other three cooks behind it and they all began reaching in their apron pockets. Shit.

You got anything else, voice? No answer. Just another distinctly sharp prick at the back of her neck. Hm. Was there any way she reach with the shadows? Reach and peach— falls in line with the rhyming and everything! Surreptitiously, she cast her gaze around the room in search for shadows. And when she found them she… stared at them. Then proceeded to glare at them. She gave a subtle flutter of her fingers, willing them to move. Nothing. God, this was stupid. Just as stupid as when someone clapped their hands repeatedly when the power went off because one of those times the power could potentially flicker back on at just the right moment and, ooo, magic. But could you blame her for trying? Her life was on the line here and she wielded shadows like freaking swords a matter of minutes ago.

Doves like you don’t climb. They fly. Will you let me be your wings? Just reach for my hand... The deep voice edged back into her mind, as if he thought he was smooth. She noticed a hand-shaped shadow sliding towards her feet on the tiled floor. What do you say?

Flattering offer. I don't know if you remember, but you took my body for a homicidal joyride last time. So... There wasn't time to finish that thought, seeing as the gang of cooks were advancing on them. If Clara was going to make a deal with some kind of demon, she needed to lay out her terms first.

"We liked you better before. Both of you." The cooks lumbered towards them, identical smiles stretching out on all of their faces. Synchronized like puppets or something. And the same way, one by one, they revealed incredibly large kitchen knives from their apron pockets. "What will it be? Will you die or will you climb?" They all said the same thing, but their timing was off just enough for their voices to resemble an echo. Die, die, die, climb, climb, climb.

You're very cold for a dove within death's grasp. The voice sounded far too amused by this turn of events. Clara shivered and backed away from the cooks, twisting her satchel around to use as a shield if need be. But I suppose trust must be earned. You'll be begging for my hand soon.

"...W-we'll climb. Fine. Fine." Clara flinched when one of the cooks got close enough for her to see her own terrified reflection in the knife's shiny surface. At a loss, she glanced helplessly at Thea. "Right, Thea? We'll climb."

 

[Syntra]

...six years without speaking? Wow. Thea couldn't even imagine going six minutes without it-- mostly because she had opinions, okay, and all of them fucking deserved to be heard. Staying silent would have deprived the world of her insights, and that would have been an enormous loss! Akin to, uhhh, the burning of the Library of Alexandria, maybe, but worse. Infinitely worse, actually, because her thought processes kept generating fresh takes at the rate of three per second, while the library had presumably only contained a bunch of moth-ridden books. (Presumably, Thea remained true to her beliefs even while asleep-- at least Allison, one of her exes, had always complained about her 'never fucking shutting up' even after she'd closed her eyes. 'And you say such weird things, too,' she'd scrunched her pretty little nose. 'Something about wolves chasing you in a forest. What, have you secretly been Little Red Riding Hood all this time?' ...yeah, a good thing Thea had dumped her! A true dream gf would have been thankful for the prophecy, and recorded it into a diary for the future generations to enjoy. Who even cared about such frivolous stuff as sleep, anyway? Time spent sleeping was time spent not partying, so like, forcing them to dedicate eight hours per day to this totally stupid activity had been a serious oversight by the Universe.)

"Yeah," Thea joined Clara's voice, "this is fucking bullshit. Like, I slept through most of my Biology lessons, but even I know that! Besides, aren't we supposed to be students here? It's not our fault that you are a bunch of idiots who can't even take care of the logistic side of things properly. We're here to educate ourselves," presumably, "not to run your fucking errands. Boo hoo, so you ran out of peaches! Either send someone to your local supermarket or just, I dunno, give up on the whole peach pie shtick. Otherwise, I'm..." What, actually? Blowing the whole place up? No, no, not realistic enough, and that was paramount. Most people weren't complete morons, you see? A lot of them were at least 50% dumb, maybe 60%, even, but not so empty-headed as to believe something like 'I shall bomb the fuck out of your country' without knowing you had the access to the fabled red button. (Hmm, hmm. Distantly, Thea remembered something about it supposedly being possible to make a bomb out of soap-- so, did they have soap in this fucking nightmare of reality? And if the answer was yes, would they allow her to google the guide for that? ...something told her that no, probably not. Authority figures had always had issues with her creative solutions, you see! Thea assumed it had to do with jealousy more than anything else, really, because being stuck in their grey, grey minds must have been a fate worse than death.) "I'm suing," she finally finished. "Yes, that's right! This is violating my rights as a student and I won't stand for it."

"Suing?" one of those faceless fuckers smiled. "Really now, Dorothea? Don't make us laugh! Do you think your parents would hire a lawyer for someone like you? Pffft, hahaha. Let me tell you a sweet, sweet secret, little one-- they don't care about what happens to you."

"...I thought you wanted to tell me a secret," Thea rolled her eyes. "Like, not to ruin your ~reveal~, but I kinda guessed that when they had me locked up. Just an inkling, though."

"Just as rotten as Clara here, I see," the cook's smiled. "You truly were looking for each other, oh you were, you were." 'You were,' the voice in her her head affirmed. 'Beware the squirrel.' ...squirrel, huh. Okay, that was new! They could be freaky, Thea supposed, with their oversized teeth and everything-- she had always suspected them of secretly being carnivores because, really, why else would they need such ridiculous fangs? Maybe they were actually ruling the universe from the shadows, along with the rest of their rodent brethren! "The birds of same feather, in truth. Or two lambs that escaped from the same slaughter, maybe?" somehow, she was positive the bastard winked, even if the lack of face should have fucking made that impossible. (...what a conspiratorial wink, too. 'I know that you know' type of thing, except that she fucking didn't!) "What do you think?"

"That you're deranged and should seek help," Thea shrugged. "I know a guy who knows a guy, sooo... if you wanna, I can get you in touch with the best therapist ever. Provided that you, you know, don't fucking kill me. That could make things awkward." One would have thought that sort of thing was common fucking sense, but nooo, actually! Instead of continuing the nice, civil conversation they had going on, the company of freaks brandished knives. Gulp. Where was her axe when she needed it?!

"Y-yeah," Thea smiled nervously, "I suppose we'll climb. No problem, chief!" Not that her opinion re: beeches and peaches had changed, but the pragmatic part of her brain decided that was the problem of her future self-- right now, their priority was getting away from the current shitshow. The shitshow she could see on the horizon? It should wait for its goddamn turn! "Fuck this bullshit," Thea muttered under her breath as she stepped on one of the lower branches. "This is worst than the one time mother signed me up for a beauty pageant. I mean, that was a fucking train wreck as well, especially when one of those chicks had me poisoned, but..."

The leaves rustled then, in this vaguely threatening way, and in that moment? A giant fucking squirrel emerged from the greenery, because of fucking course that it did. (It watched them with its large, soulless eyes-- absolutely nothing was going upstairs, Thea just knew that, and, uh. Was the red stuff on its maw blood? Like, she would rather think it was ketchup or lipstick or something, but their track record so far suggested that was probably not the case.)

"Hello," the squirrel beamed. "Would you like me to take you to the top? I can do that. For the low, low price of your favorite day!"

"Uhh," Thea pulled on Clara's sleeve. "This is probably not the greatest twist ever," she whispered in her ear, "but the fucker's not good news. My voices," which, yeah, a fucking reliable source of information, "...my voices said so."

 

[ellarose]

Reluctantly, Clara laid her satchel down to free up her arms. Instead of question what she may or may not have just overheard about beauty pageants, she observed Thea carefully to gauge where the best footholds would be and followed her lead. As they climbed, she tried not to think about the ground getting further away. She tried not to think about the stability of a beech grown from a pie. (The rough bite of the bark against her hands was as real as anything, though. Which basically confirmed that those kitchen knives would have felt just as real in her gut.) She also tried not to think about the faceless cooks waiting down below with their knives and what would happen to them if they didn't find any peaches in this tree. The possibility had occurred to her, that they would go to the effort of climbing only to die anyway, which is precisely why she brought it up. It was kind of like agreeing to the manual labor of digging your own grave when you were already going to die. In a way, wasn't this prolonging the inevitable? Because reason said they wouldn't find peaches in a beech. Then again, reason also typically said that faceless monsters don't exist, either, so unenthused as she was about climbing, it was a better alternative to getting stabbed in the immediate future. Or maybe not. What she really wanted was to go to bed. Why agree to suffer in her last moments, when she could...

There was the larger mystery lurking in the background of all of this nonsense, too. What had they meant, saying she and Thea were birds of a feather? Because they both heard voices in their heads? And then there was that thing about two lambs escaping the same slaughter and... and...'Do you remember? The person you said your last words to, before you stopped saying anything at all?' she can't remember and the more she tries to remember, the more prominent the ache at the back of her neck was. Clara cried out for the second time that night when the oversized squirrel burst out and she nearly slipped off the branch she was reaching for. Feet dangling, heart pounding, she swore in her head and held on for dear life. A talking squirrel? What was this, really, Wonderland?

"...What else is new? At this point, good news would be the real twist." Clara whispered back, anchoring herself by hugging onto the base of the tree. Their favorite day? What does that even mean? It would be nice if her own voices would chime in with a hint, but the pain in her neck was busy developing into something that wrapped down her spine. Crawling down, down, down towards her scar, now that she thought about it.

Did you possess a squirrel?

Absolutely not. The deep voice sounded offended by the prospect. She didn't even have to see an expression to know it just screwed up with distaste. Whyever would I do that?

Shadow tail. The symbolism? Clara stared up at it, furrowing her brow. It's also covered in blood, which seems to be your thing. Never mind.

Cryptic hints, eh? That's my gig, dove. The voice almost sounded proud, but changed the topic before she could admit to being pretentious. Now is an excellent time to make a chart! You have a choice to make. Do you take your chances with the squirrel? Or--

"It is very rude to stare, you know!" The squirrel cut in before the internal banter could go on any further.

"Well, it's also rude to startle people." Clara countered with the calm of a patient preschool teacher. Best to be pleasant about this to avoid pissing the thing off, right? Geez. She couldn't believe she was talking to a squirrel. She couldn't believe that this was her life now. "I'm afraid I don't have a favorite day to pay you with. I think we'll climb, thank you."

Take my hand! Take it now-- The voice said urgently. But it was too late.

"Nonsense!" The squirrel proceeded to grab her by the waist in its large paw, like a child would grab a doll. It held her away from the branches, leaving her feet to dangle. The ground was far enough away that the fall would break her legs-- if not kill her altogether. And again, she was forced to confront her frightened reflection as she stared into the creature's dark eyes. She couldn't look away from them.

"No, no-- " It was hypnotic, the way they drew her inside. Gradually Clara's struggling slowed and she went slack. Enveloped in a strange warmth, it felt like she was being coaxed to sleep. The faint chiming of a cheery old carousel tune rang in her ears and became grander and louder as the squirrel's voice faded off into the distance. "Everyone has a favorite day."

And suddenly Clara was a little girl again, bouncing on her toes in line at a carnival attraction, standing between two really cool teenagers. Probably the coolest teenagers in the whole park. Their tattered jeans, tattoos and piercings stood out in stark contrast to the yellow dress she wore. It was her favorite, the one with the sweet rabbit-shaped pockets. She couldn't believe that some other little girl had gotten tired enough of it to throw it away... but little girls did grow very fast. A squirrel dashed by her feet, but she wasn't paying attention to that. She was staring wide-eyed at the haunted mansion attraction that loomed ahead.

"Settle down, Bumblebee." Her big brother said, pressing a hand down on top of her head as if she had a 'settle down' switch. It only slowed her bouncing a little bit. "Are you scared?"

"Are you scared?" She turned it back on him in the condescending tone only an adorable little girl could make cute. The line moved forward a few steps.

"I'm just sayin'. Neither of you ladies have anything to be afraid of as long as I'm around." He popped his jacket collar and grinned, winking over his sister's head at his girlfriend, who scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not scared because I know Maria's going to protect me." She smiled. They only met recently, but she liked Maria. She didn't mind a single bit, letting her come along as a third wheel on their dates. Nothing like his last girlfriend, who snapped her gum, stared at her phone all the time, and complained that they didn't have any time to make out while the 'annoying kid sister' was around. "She's tougher than you."

"Hey!" Her brother put on a false pout and reached to pinch her cheek. Maria playfully wrestled him away before he could.

"You heard her. I've got a sworn duty to protect this kid." Yep. She liked her. And she could tell her brother liked her, too, because he looked really happy. Probably happier than she's ever seen him. "I'm low on cash, Bea, but I'll treat you to ice cream after this. How about that?"

The name... sounded wrong, somehow. But it was right, because she was Beatrice Sawyer. Right? A chill ran down her spine, then, and she thought it might be because it was almost their turn to get on the ride. She was smart. She read plenty about animatronics. How they were all silicone and foam stretched over a steel base of bones. They couldn't hurt her. But her heart was pounding for some reason. Just like it did when she heard arguments through paper-thin walls, when the entire trailer shook with the thump of papa's footsteps. This wasn't the fun, thrill-scared that she expected to feel as the line moved forward. She was just scared, plain and simple. And was it just her, or were the shadows around them getting longer?

"Naw. They overprice everything in this place. We'll get some ice cream when we're out of here."

That was when she noticed the people in front of them, boarding the next empty skeleton boat. They... didn't have faces. The attendant helping them in didn't have a face, either. They weren't even on the ride yet! What-- what was going on?

 

[Syntra]

Her favorite day. No big deal, right? Thea would just reach into her fucking brain, scrape the memory out as if it was the last remnant of ice-cream stuck to the walls of its container, and hand it over to the Totally Not Shady Disney Creature Cosplayer. What could possibly go wrong here? Nothing, certainly, as long as she willed it into existence. The power of positive thinking, ladies and gentlemen! Yeah, more like the power of delusions, Thea rolled her eyes, because, duh, as fucking if. No supernatural fucker was allowed to touch her goddamn memories! (Not that many things were off limits with her, as her exes could confirm-- she was very much a 'I'll try anything once' kind of girl, really. Simply put, if it wasn't too illegal, Thea was game. Still, that didn't mean she had no fucking sense of self-preservation, and right now? All of the alarm bells in her head were going off.)

"Give?" she frowned. "I can tell you about it, if that's what you're asking for, but--" '--but I don't think you'll be happy with that, huh, you greedy fucker?' was what she wanted to say, but didn't get to. And why? Due to the prophetic nature of that statement, of course. Since, you see, that was exactly the moment the bastard grabbed Clara! Grabbed Clara, and performed some... some hypnotic bullshit. Great. Just, awesome. What was next on their schedule, getting dragged into some cheesy-ass parallel dimension in which they had to fight their own doppelgangers for the fucking right to exist? That she now lived in a reality where this was not only plausible, but also one of the less wild options, unnerved her more than the realization that she, too, was going to die once. (...of course, that had occurred when Thea had still been a kid, wide-eyed and innocent. At the moment? Dying sounded kind of comfy, to be honest. Provided there wasn't any sort of afterlife, she'd finally fucking get a break!)

"Hey!" Thea shouted, somewhat ineffectually. "Let go of her, you freak!"

"Right now?" the squirrel grinned. "You sure about that, little one?" Casually, it proceeded to dangle Clara's body over the branch, and gave Thea some time to conceptualize just how high they were. (The results of her analysis: Pretty Fucking High. As in, high enough so that there wouldn't even be a corpse to collect! Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. What if Clara wanted to be buried in a family tomb, or something? Bringing her parents bloody scraps would be fucking embarrassing, not to mention that Thea didn't even know their address, and--)

'A funny set of priorities you've got there, Dorothea.'

'Yeah? Well, if you don't like it, you can fuck right off. I'm kinda in the middle of something, sooo--'

'Hmm, no, you're definitely not a dove. I think I'm going to call you a crow. Would you like that, child?'

'Well, crows feast on corpses, and that's pretty fucking metal, so... wait. Wait, wait, wait. You can actually speak to me? Like, speak speak?' Goodbye, last shreds of Thea's sanity. You'd be sorely missed, even if you had abandoned her when she needed you the most!

'Ten points for great reasoning skills,' the voice laughed. 'Sherlock.'

'Okay, are you just going to insult me or do you ever plan on, like, introducing yourself?'

'I'm a friend.'

'And I'm the fucking Virgin Mary in disguise.'

'It's a very good disguise, then.'

'Aaargh! Just tell me what you want or get the hell out. If you don't, I'm gonna start picturing the grossest fucking thing I can imagine and, trust me, none of us want that.'

'Fearsome,' the bastard smirked, 'but stupid, my little crow. I've come to offer you help, now that you aren't wasted for once. Do you know how hard it is to get through to you, hmmm? You should be thankful.'

Yeah, none of that was exactly filling her with warm, fuzzy feelings. Like, thankful for fucking what? For invading the goddamn privacy of her mind? Google and Facebook had already done that, thank you very much, but at least she'd gotten something out of that! Funny cat videos, for example, and personalized ads that weren't all that horrible considering that she wanted buy that shit. Now, what did this guy offer to her? Shady Faustian deals wrapped in a Nice Guy rhetoric? ...still, it wasn't like Thea actually had an array of allies to choose from. 'Can we get to the goddamn point?'

'Well, wouldn't you like to save your friend? I can make that happen. You only have to take my hand when I extend it, Thea. What will it be, then? Will you--'

'Shut the fuck up and extend it already! Do I look like I have the time to do this debate club bullshit with you?' Because while it may have been terrible prejudice on her part, Thea kinda assumed that extracting memories without one's permission was BadTM, and Clara... she didn't think that bad things should happen to Clara, okay. For reasons! Mostly because facing this nonsense reality alone would be infinitely worse than what was happening now, and she wasn't in a hurry to experience that.

'Oh,' the bastard said, and somehow, Thea just knew his eyes gleamed. 'Not one for words, little crow, huh? Well then, take it.' And, at that point? There wasn't much else to do, really, so she did. Darkness hatched somewhere behind her eyes then-- these shadowy fucking tendrils painting pictures on her eyelids, one more graphic than the one before it. (Blah blah blah, blood, blah blah blah, someone's head exploded. Was it supposed to be scary? In the age of the internet? Pfft! Thea had seen worse by the time she had been a teen, plus, the POV actually made her feel weirdly powerful, and-- 'This can be yours, dearest Thea. This, and much more. Don't you know you were born to hold this power?' Oh, okay. Maybe it wasn't meant to be scary, then. Nope, this was a free trial version of some supernatural bullshit! ...she had to admit it sorta made sense, though. Like, the thing that had hatched inside of her head had been there all this time, right? So, it was hers, and rightfully so. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Let me have it.')

There was a flash, bright and blinding, and... uh. Was this an amusement park? An amusement park full of faceless psychos? A weird flex, but okay. Too fucking bad for them, then, that Thea wasn't going to be an obedient schoolgirl anymore. "Just what I needed," she smirked, her eyes overflowing with something dark. (The space between the stars, maybe? Either way, this sure as hell wasn't her normal eye color. It wasn't anyone's normal eye color, for that matter!) "Convenient training dummies. Let's see how many of you I can kill!" And, with those words, the darkness within her erupted.

 

[ellarose]

Something was seriously wrong. Not just because the name— her name— Beatrice sounded unusual no matter how many times she repeated it in her mind. No, it wasn’t even the existence of the faceless people around her. It was the ride itself. The skeleton boat approached the mouth of the tunnel leading inside… and with a jarring ‘snap’ a guillotine snapped down on them, splintering through the vehicle and slicing through the faceless passengers. Before she could recoil, a spray of blood hit her face and her favorite dress. Their blood, butchered bodies and the broken pieces of the boat drifted off into the darkness. That wasn't supposed to happen. But no one else reacted— no one— as if that was just part of the attraction! And they were next. An empty boat arrived for them, filling her heart with dread. The faceless attendant waved them forward. Panic dragged her down, down, down. It was drowning her. She couldn't breathe.

“You ready, Bea?” Raoul's voice sounded muffled, as if she was hearing it underwater. A hand closed around her wrist, pulling her forward.

“No!” She screamed and something inside her… shifted. Huh? The muscles in her throat twitched and struggled with a feeling she couldn't name. Swinging viciously, she twisted free of his hold. “No, no, no! I don’t want to!”

“Hey. There’s nothing to be frightened of.” Her brother said gently. She was about to ask him if he lost his freaking mind, if he saw what she just saw. But when he kneeled down to her eye level to reason with her, she realized that now he was faceless, too. Like the attendant, like those passengers. Gazing up, she saw Maria’s face had vanished at some point as well.

With a shriek, Beatrice ripped herself away from them. Backing away, she bumped into some carnival-goers in line behind her. And upon whirling around, she realized that they, too, were faceless. No, no, no. What was happening? What was this— a nightmare? Breathing shakily, she turned and ran as fast as her feet could carry her, winding through the crowd of faceless strangers. “Beatrice! Beatrice, come back here!” Heart racing in time with the snapping of her footsteps, she searched desperately for someone who looked normal. Someone who could help her or tell her what was happening.

Her faceless not-brother pushed through the crowd and gave chase. In a matter of seconds he morphed into a giant squirrel made up of inky shadows and furious red eyes. It's teeth were long, blindingly white, and dripping with blood. They reminded her of the guillotine blade on the ride.

"Nothing purer than a child’s happiness." It spat out, as if its words might race ahead and catch up to her faster. "Nothing more… delicious."

Tears crowded her eyes and blurred everything around her, making the twinkling carnival lights bloom out like neon-colored fireworks. Then, without warning, the whole park cracked. Like an egg or a brittle bone. The carousel nearby tilted and sunk halfway into the ground. All the other rides, games and food stands did the same. They stuck out at topsy-turvy angles like forgotten toys in a sandbox. Shadows swirled all around her, recklessly snapping up faceless strangers left and right. Whenever they were grabbed, they opened their mouthes unnaturally wide to the point of unlatching their jaws, letting out ghoulish moans of agony. Following the source of the shadowy ropes with a wide-eyed stare, she saw her. The only other person in the park with a face. A lady. A lady who was... who was sort of familiar, even. Could she trust her? But her eyes were dark. And she was controlling the shadows. And the squirrel was going to catch up to her, too, she just knew it!

Frightened and confused, Beatrice sprinted for the only attraction that was still standing upright. The funhouse.

The clang, clang, clang of her footsteps echoed as she clambered up the metal ramp leading inside. Funhouses were meant for normal-sized people, not oversized squirrels, so maybe she would be all right once she got inside. Holding tight to that thought like it was her last hope, she raced into the narrow hallway and down a hall of full-length mirrors. On any other day, she might have appreciated how it looked like a hall a princess might walk in a movie (or a cheap knockoff of one, anyway) but for now, her priority was finding a hiding spot. The ground shook beneath her feet. As she suspected, the squirrel got stuck at the entrance, shaking the entire house with its fruitless efforts to squeeze through the doorway. It slammed harder and the impact caused her to fall. Bang, bang, bang. It continued to shake the whole funhouse with abandon. On her hands and knees, she crawled further inside before finding a small nook to hide in. Catching her breath as quietly as she could, she compacted herself into the tightest ball possible and started to cry. Don't be a baby, Beatrice. She reprimanded herself sternly, the way her papa would.

And then it got unsettlingly quiet. All she could hear was the faint, magical twinkling of music that continued to play outside in spite of all the chaos and the sound of her own sniffling.

“You always had an overactive imagination, Bumblebee. Everything you saw out there, it’s all in your head.” The thing that was not her brother used his voice again. It wasn’t going to fool her a second time. Footsteps followed, then, clicking on the floor and she stiffened. Was it trying to look like him again, too? “Do you want to play with me? Be a good girl and come out.” Then the voice sounds angrier, less like her brother, slamming one of the mirrors with a fist. “Don’t hide from me! I told you. It’s safe now.” Then it muttered, as it got closer, as if it thought she couldn't hear. "That menace Dorothea. She wasn't supposed to..."

Dorothea? Why was that name so...

Beatrice's reverie burst like a bubble when she realized the shadows from the outside were beginning to pour inside the funhouse, rising around her like water. And the squirrel humanoid thing in there with her? It let out a horrible, horrible screech. With a softer cry of her own, she pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slipped past her eyelids, running down her cheeks. Don't cry. It's just a bad dream, Beatrice, she thought. Just wake up. Wake up.

 

[Syntra]

Darkness kept pouring out of her mouth, thick like hot asphalt, and somehow, it felt good, you know? Not at all the way you'd expect. (Hot asphalt seemed to be one of the top then things you didn't want anywhere near your fucking mouth, but maybe that was just a cheap piece of anti-asphalt propaganda-- 'cause, as it turned out, it tasted like power. Power and leather and something vaguely sweet, with these caramel undertones? Look, Thea would provide a proper fucking review upon returning to... to... wherever she was supposed to return to! Surely, she'd figure it out in time. Maybe. And, haha, if not, then so fucking what? Being stuck in an amusement park wasn't the worst thing ever, even if it was full of faceless bastards-- the ticket had been free, so you kinda had to assume there was a CatchTM. That was how these things worked, baby! ...besides, only cowards saw the monsters as a problem. You know what a visionary would see instead? Free fucking targets!)

'Caramel? Free targets?' the voice in her head repeated, not even trying to hide the amusement. 'That's a first.'

'You're a first,' Thea retorted, and, no, she didn't fucking care that it made no sense at all. Chasing after meaning seemed to be a moot point in this context, anyway-- much like, dunno, trying to warn the denizens of Pompeii that the fuming mountain on the horizon miiiight be a problem, long after it had already fucking buried them under lava. And Thea wasn't a fan of wasting her energy, you see? ...besides, it was just so, so sweet! The way those weird-ass fuckers screamed when the tendrils wrapped around them and devoured them, leaving nothing behind. (Darkness was hungry, you see? 'Cause it was made of fucking nothing-- of this vast, all-embracing emptiness, which crawled forward and forward and forward, in search of something greater than itself. Kinda like Thea herself, actually! ...what? You try living with her perfect parents and perfect sister and perfect fucking dog who knew allll the commands while being a Certified Fuck UpTM. Like, being a blemish on her family's snow white reputation gave her a lot of spotlight and everything, but sometimes, it did get kinda exhausting. Especially when the nasty, nasty feeling of bot being enough burrowed under your skin!)

'That's right, my little crow. Lean into it. The world is yours to destroy or transform, whichever you might choose. Nice, isn't it?'

'Shut up and go form an emo boy band, you fucking edgelord.'

'Look who's talking!' the voice chuckled.

'Less talking, more killing.'

A good motto for just about any situation, Thea thought-- especially since the bastards kept throwing themselves at her, probably in search of stylish death. Okay, then! Okay. For these guys, she'd play the role of the good fucking samaritan and deliver them from the horror of... not having an actual face, she guessed. Like, can you imagine? Forever being an anonymous part of the crowd, creepy and unloved. (Did they ever stare into the mirror with their non-existent eyes and wonder how to differentiate themselves from the thousands of their clone-like siblings? Just, talk about an identity crisis, man.) Shadows cut through another faceless wave, and fuck, Thea wanted to laugh-- laugh and laugh and laugh, long enough to drown in that sound. (Why had she come here, again? There had been some sort of reason, she could tell, but killing those things just felt so awesome. Like-- like fucking gasoline coursing through her veins, you know? Which, Thea admitted, probably wouldn't be all that pleasant, but the idea of her blood being set on fire just felt freeing, somehow. Purifying. From her own ashes, she could rise-- pure and beautiful, and finally, finally worth of more than just disappointed sighs. 'Oh, Thea,' mommy had used to say. 'Don't you know better?' Well, no more!)

'You always know best, little dove,' the voice cooed, suddenly all velvety. 'Oh, for sure, for sure. Nothing like good murder, right? Kill them all, like the cockroaches they are. Smash them under your boot. They deserve no less for standing in your way.' And, you know what? The pre-shadow Thea might have been like 'citation needed,' but fuck that noise. Why the hell should she doubt herself when everyone else seemed to be hellbent on doing that already? Time to change careers, baby, because the competition in that field was fucking crazy. So, from now on? Thea would believe in herself! ...in herself, and the sweet, sweet voice that conveniently told her everything she wanted to hear. (That meant it was correct, right? 'Cause that was how the world worked and shit. Everyone knew that the truth was what you wanted it to be!)

'That's right, my sweet. Now, tear that funhouse down! You know you want to. That's what you've come here for, don't you remember? To drown those who are inside in their own blood. Do it, and you can have your old life back.' ...what old life? Thea remembered fuck all, actually, but what he was saying sort of checked out-- like, coming here to kill someone did sort of sound like something she might do. It wouldn't be her first fucking rodeo, that was for certain!

"Fine, fine," Thea chuckled outloud. "I'll do it, you crazy motherfucker. I mean, seems like fun." And with that? She breathed flames into the darkness, and sent them inside. (The sparks dances in front of her eyes, so, so mesmerizing. Ah, what a beautiful way to die! Painful as well, she guessed, but as her mother had used to say-- you had to pay for beauty. Pay and pay and pay!) "Come out, come out!" Thea sang out, a smile blooming on her lips. "I can, like, kill you more pleasantly if you do."

 

[ellarose]

As the temperature rose like the shadows swimming around her, sweat beaded at her brow. Now what was she supposed to do? Because she wasn't waking up, no matter how terribly this supposed nightmare progressed. Maybe the her inevitable death by fire would finally startle her free? While staying inside the funhouse sounded like a bad idea, the outside was still a mess of faceless strangers, darkness and death. Wherever she turned, the environment reveled in unpacking new pandoras boxes of destruction and chaos. So she curled up, surrendering in her hiding place. Probably would have let herself burn away to ashes there, quietly telling herself to wake up, wake up, wake up... but it wasn't up to her when she was finally discovered. Arms snared around her waist, yanked her upward, and forcibly dragged her out of the funhouse. Kicking her legs, she coughed on smoke when she tried to cry out. All of her efforts to escape were futile. Again, she was a victim of lousy circumstances, carried off by the faceless thing-- the absolute mockery of her brother-- only now spots of darkness were eating away at one half of his body, like a match burning through a slip of paper. It held her up in front of him as if she were light as a doll. It held her like a shield. And it carried her outside and face to face with the lady of darkness. The only other lady in the park who had a face. And she was smiling.

"Oh, yes. Kill me if you like. But you'll have to get through her to do it." The thing taunted and shook her erratically, clutching her like a killer might a hostage in a scary movie. She flinched and averted her eyes. Was she going to be eaten? Or torn apart by shadows, like all those faceless things she saw before? Her heart pumped wildly in her chest. "--But you see, we're in her mind. If she goes, we all go."

Your mind. A soft voice confirmed. Yours to control. One by one, the carnival attractions sank and disappeared entirely underground. Last of all, the funhouse joined the rest of them, submerging the faces of the royal court and jester painted on the side. What remains is darkness, leaving only the vague implications of shadows among the raging fire. A clean slate, in other words. A world that shuddered with anticipation to create a brand new stage. It continued, Your mind, Clara.

Clara? That, it seemed, was the final piece to reassembling her awareness. Because that name sounded right in a way Beatrice did not. She flickered like a faulty computer program, between her younger and present selves. Between Beatrice Sawyer and Clara Loveless. Her younger self whimpered and her present self peered up, meeting the lady's eyes. The lady who was familiar to her for a reason. "...Thea?" She blinked slowly, solidifying into the person she was supposed to be. "What are you--?"

"Ugh. Thanks to you, this memory's good as gone! Now I need to find another one." Sounding royally pissed, the thing holding onto her practically crushes her ribs, as if that might stop her from glitching out. It presses a claw-like hand to the back of her skull, digging deeper for another memory to steal from her. The scenery changed to reflect each memory it touched and swiped past them dismissively like photos on a phone (the kind of phone she doesn't even have, because she owned a crappy old flip-phone that attracted judgement from everyone who saw it!)-- a sparkling lake, the backstage set at school, an empty parking lot, a cluttered art studio. No, no, no. If she was going to stop this, she'd have to act fast.

Okay, okay, okay. So this was her mind, right? Was it really as simple as manifesting the key to her escape with her imagination? Because Clara's mind was ripe with it. Like the thing said before, she has an overactive one. One that overflowed to such an extent that it spilled out in her journals and her artwork.

The metaphorical phone screen revealing snapshots of her life went dark, then, back to the same clean slate the sunken carnival left behind. And then golden orbs of light trickled down from the sky like a meteor shower, each one leaving behind a trail of stardust that was cartoonishly animated in the way it rained grainy snowflakes, diamonds and circles that popped like bubbles. Gradually, they magicked a brand new setting in the same way that sparkles conveniently erased the destruction the villain had caused at the end of a movie. The sky burst open to reveal the kind of sunset fictional princesses dreamed of being carried off into, the ground they stood on morphed into a cliffside drenched in a copious amount of white roses to the point that it resembled a blanket of snow. They bobbed and swayed with a lazy breeze. "This isn't..." The monster clinging to her stirred. Then the viciously protective and familiar barking of a dog that echoed. And the thing sounded genuinely terrified when it saw what was coming for it. "--No."

Spooks, her one-eyed eskie, the white knight she imagined for herself on a whim, dashed up the hill and sank her teeth into the leg of her captor. Well. Her sweet girl did love chasing squirrels, didn't she? Therefore this was the most reasonable choice! And the right one, apparently, because at last, the thing holding onto her did release her. Clara scrambled away from it, unknowingly nearing the ledge of the cliff, and stared at Thea. Interrogating her on how, exactly, she found a way into her mind could come later. For now...

"Now! Get rid of it now, Thea." Clara welcomed Spooks into her arms as the puppy made an excited dash for her.

"Have you forgotten where you really are? Both of you?" The squirrel laughed maniacally, then, despite the fact that it was broken and shimmering and undoubtedly at Thea's mercy. "If I die, you will fall." As if to confirm what it said, a portion of the cliff directly behind Clara crumbled away. With a cautious glance behind, she saw exactly how far from the ground she was. Dizzyingly, for a split second, she caught a glimpse of the tiled cafeteria floor in... in the real world. Oh, right. Oh, shit.

 

[Syntra]

'Oh yes, yes. Do it, little crow!' the voice whispered in her ear, all velvety and seductive. Normally, Thea would have told it to fuck off, but it kinda sounded... hmm, convincing, you know? Convincing and friend-shaped, and nobody who wanted to be her friend could possibly be shitty enough to actually hurt her. Recognizing her as a person worth befriending immediately granted you the Awesome Human Being award, which in turn prevented you from pulling any bitch-ass tricks. A great fucking system, wasn't it? That more people didn't use it was a total mystery to Thea, but hey! Not her fault that the majority of them just sucked. 'Follow your instincts. You're hungry, aren't you? And there's a reason crows used to visit battlefields-- there's nothing quite as delicious as a corpse, if I do say so myself. Just a little more, my child. A little more, and finally, you shall feast!'

...feast? Thea didn't really remember being hungry, either, though she guessed she wouldn't mind a slice of pizza. Wanting pizza = the sign of the human condition, okay? Whenever being a tiny hairless ape with a brain too fucking hyperactive for it to ever shut up got too much, pizza was there to have your back-- pizza, in all its cheesy, tomato-y glory. Mouthwatering, truly! Except that.... hmmm. Had the bastard implied she was supposed to eat corpses? Like, corpses of actual fucking people? Not that Thea was some human rights activist, or even a Model CitizenTM, but that didn't mean she had no standards at all. Besides, considering the amount of people who ate at the fucking McDonald's daily, without a hint of shame? The average forty year old guy would be like pure cholesterol injected straight into her bloodstream!

'Why are you wavering, little crow? Just do it. You know you want to! Finish what you've come here for...' What you've come here for, what you've come here for, what you've come here for. The phrase echoed through her mind, through centuries as well, it seemed, and yet, yet it rang hollow-- 'cause, with every passing second, Thea was more and more convinced she hadn't arrived here to get some fucking snack. Like, wouldn't some restaurant have been a better choice for that? A restaurant, or a cafeteria, or a... cafeteria. Not a cafeteria, but the cafeteria-- the den of those faceless bastards who had made her and Clara climb that stupid... Oh, shit. Clara! You know, the one person who wasn't trying to kill her amidst this clusterfuck? Yeah, that one. (Wow, wow, wow. Did they, like, give people awards for forgetfulness? Since forgetting your sole ally for whom you had struck a weird Faustian deal with a Suspicious Entity must have been some Guinness world record shit.)

The realization opened her eyes, and not in the metaphorical way-- because, the dark mist the world was drowning in? It retreated in an instant, like a dog being confronted with the terrifying reality of a vacuum cleaner in the middle of cleaning. Naturally, this revealed Clara being held by the squirrel-ass fucker. Great, just great! Not that this was shocking in any way, mind you, but she would have loved not to discover a new catastrophe every five minutes. "Hmmm... And you think this is a good argument why, exactly? 'Cause the way I see this, pal, is that either we all die, or just me and my friend. Dunno, call me a vengeful bitch, but I like the first option way more! So, say goodbye to hazelnuts, or whatever the fuck squirrels eat." (...and, no, this didn't seem like an ideal solution. Then again, they were apparently stuck in Clara's head while being stuck in a haunted while being stuck in a cemetery with at least one zombie on the prowl, so ideal solutions were about as utopian as, uh, the actual fucking Utopia. Activating the self-destruct mode it was, then! ...maybe the decision had come to her so easily because she'd been doing exactly that for a while, whether she knew it or not. Maybe, maybe, maybe!)

'What the fuck was that?' Thea asked the voice as she tendrils of darkness rose from the earth and began to swirl, dancing their deadly dance.

'Awww, you're slightly less stupid than I thought. Nevermind, I shall get my due later. And, oh, try not to take it personally. We demons are contractually obliged to be like this!'

A demon, huh? Okay, why not! It wasn't like this was stranger than the rest of tornado her life had been swept up in, so the existence of fucking demons didn't bother her as much as it should have. Besides, there were those tendrils to control, and... uh. Suddenly, the reality began falling apart? And not in the usual 'omg, what the fuck am I supposed to do with my fucking life' way, but much more literally-- the amusement park was swallowed by nothingness, vast and ever-expanding. Fine, be that way, universe. I've never fucking liked existing in you, anyway! If some celestial fucker asks me to rate my experience, I'll give you -9000/10, and... The incoming rant was nipped in the bud, though, when Thea was invited to a scene straight out of those psychedelic cartoons instead. Alright. Alright, this... probably made sense, if you ignored all the things that didn't, and that was exactly what she planned to do here. Haha! Couldn't lose a grip on reality if you had never had it in the first place, right?

"I don't fucking care where we are," Thea snapped. "I just know I want you to die!" And, uh, in that moment? Two things happened at once. Development number 1: one of the tendrils shot forward, faster than a bullet, and pierced the bastard through. Which, yay! Development number 2: the grass beneath their feet fucking evaporated, and Thea found herself heading towards the floor much more quickly than what she would have been comfortable with. Yeah, that was... considerably less yay. Thankfully, there was Development number 3 to save the day! Namely, one of the tendrils drilled a hole into the fucking sky-- after which a different tendril wrapped around both of them and fucking threw them inside. (Wow, what a great customer service! Never using Tendril Airways again, that was for certain.)

Aaaaah!!! ...thud. "Fucking ouch," Thea shouted as she landed on something soft, but also surprisingly pointy, and... uh. So, a question: when you fell on a hot witchy girl who had already saved your ass a few times during some apocalypse-level bullshit, how did you make that less awkward? Especially when your noses were almost touching. Asking for a friend, of course! "I... I mean," Thea stammered, seemingly frozen to the spot. "Not that I'm complaining. You are kinda comfy, actually, so I'm not really blaming you. You've got, uh, good fat distribution. The impact didn't help, though." Of course, being the actual fucking master of Social InteractionsTM, she proceeded not to move. Haha!

 

[ellarose]

The level of absurdity should have warranted the conclusion that this was all some sort of dream. Or nightmare, if she was going to be specific about it. Maybe the voices in her head had finally taken over and she was stuck in an established institution. Maybe Thea's claims that she escaped one was just foreshadowing to the ending of her own story. It was the stuff out of cinema, you know, ripped from a bombastic fever dream only to discover that the character was locked up in a padded cell the whole time? Just the quote on quote 'edgier' variant of that 'it was all a dream' bullshit they throw at you when the writers can't think of a more creative solution to end their stories. Ouch. Except landing in the way that they had, the impact was a far too harsh reminder that this was real. Or as real as real could get. Nightmares, bad as they were, shouldn't leave bruises unless you fall out of bed or something. Smacking the back of her head against the ground was enough to throw a blinding confetti of black dots before her eyes. And, oof, Thea certainly felt real. Warm, the way a human body ought to and... and pressing into her, pinning her against the very uncomfortable floor she had landed on. Seriously, could she catch a break already? This woman had taken a wrecking ball to one too many of her boundaries tonight. Sigh. Not that it was her fault. No, no, whatever fresh hell they had found themselves in was clearly part of something much larger than the two of them. Her eyes flickered from her eyes, to her lips (which were way, way too close) and then, blushing, she stubbornly averted them as if that might help her escape.

"Yeah. I'm overcome with emotion hearing about your experience and all..." Clara was relieved to hear the sound of her voice as she remembered it, that she sounded snarky and prickly as ever. Those remnants of her naive child self were gone, as they should be. Beatrice Sawyer did not, by any means, need to be unearthed. She was buried for a reason. What an absolute headache that was! "But I guarantee you mine was worse, seeing as you just landed on me." Her edges softened when she winced. And Thea still hadn't moved. It took herculean effort on her part to summon up both the will to live and to look the other woman in the eye again. "In case you haven't noticed, you're crushing me. Get. Off."

With a distinct lack of energy after the storm of chaos they've weathered, Clara reluctantly pawed at Thea's shoulder to avoid, uh, touching her anywhere else. Had they been even remotely more familiar with each other, she might've gone as far as to outright press a hand over her face and push her away. (And yet... and yet something told her that Thea was familiar. Someone more than a stranger who looked, ah, appealing with an axe. And it only increased tenfold when they touched. It was the sort of feeling that you already knew someone and simply couldn't place your finger on how, or that you must've known them in a past life. That was another cinema thing, wasn't it, the sappy romance of soul mates and all that? So, no, she wasn't going to voice that particular thought aloud. Not ever. And especially not in the position they've found themselves in now!) Why did her mind have to go there in the first place? It was a good thing that this alternate reality or whatever didn't showcase her thoughts as they hit her, or that'd be incredibly embarrassing. As much as she loved a good romance, she had long since given up on the notion of it ever happening. Especially not to someone like her.

"So. We both have a voice in our heads. We both have... powers?" Shadow powers? Something about that sounded lame and underwhelming compared to what it actually was. There must be a better way to describe it. When Clara could finally unfurl herself from the ground, she sighed and sorely rubbed the back of her head. "Or maybe it's not us, exactly. Maybe we're both vessels for the same supernatural entity or whatever. You heard that other voice, didn't you? The one who talks back and uses pet names?"

The disgusted expression Clara makes defines her opinion of said pet names, no verbal description needed.

"...Oh, Thea. Your bandage is all lopsided." With a furrowing brow, Clara frowned and moved to adjust it on instinct. Her fingers are lithe, gentle and precise around the fabric. What? It was going to bother her otherwise! "Anyways. I'd write all of this down if I could, but my chart is..." She blinked. "Back in the cafeteria. And we're--" Those tendrils did drill a hole in what was supposed to be her mind, right? Well, she had a throbbing headache to match the intensity of it. It had thrown them someplace else, obviously. Her body ached enough to prove it. But if they weren't in the tree, or in the cafeteria, or even the classroom from before, then--? Are they still in her mind? "Honestly. We've been one too many places to keep track of at this point. Where are we now?"

 

[Syntra]

"Pffft," Thea rolled her eyes, desperately trying to ignore the blush that was beginning to bloom on her cheeks. Like, that was how reality worked, right? Take money, for example! Money only had value because people believed it was valuable-- kinda like a more fucked up version of Peter Pan fairies, really, because, creepy as they were, at least those couldn't force you to sacrifice eight hours per day to the God of Capitalism and pretend you were overjoyed to receive the ~privilege~ to do it. (They probably could murder you in an abandoned alleyway, but you know what? Thea would prefer that, actually. At least she'd be dead both inside and outside, so like, harmony, baby! Blah, blah, blah, inner peace and shit.) "I'll have you know there are people who'd pay for the experience. Not that I'd do it, of course, as my dignity is worth more than that, though still! I'd wager it can't be that bad. I mean, yeah, yeah, the impact couldn't have been that pleasant, but I've been told by other people I'm actually pretty comfy. I, uh, have references, so if you'd like to call them..." Wait, what? Had her fucking brain officially gone on a vacation, or something? Because while Thea did love her tangents, they'd never been quite as bad-- most of her friends would label them as 'weirdly endearing,' rather than, you know, 'fucking unhinged'. Maybe she was leveling up, though! This version of reality certainly didn't pull its punches, so her mind might as well stop doing that, too. Through the power of her fucking fantasies, they would conquer the world! ...well, those that didn't contain leather, anyway. Those were private, thank you very much.

"Ah! Sure, sure. Sorry. I got wrapped up in..." What, sitting on her? Jesus fucking Christ, that would definitely make her sound like a Sane IndividualTM! Oh no sireee, no need to call the police-- it wasn't like you'd wake up with Thea trying to scrape your face off your skull for her Totally Not Creepy collection, or anything like that. Her credentials of being a certified psycho must have made her look real trustworthy, too. "...in stuff, I guess," she concluded, oh so helpfully. "Getting up now, though. Promise!" ...uh. Fucking doing that would be a good start, wouldn't it? Yup, most definitely. So, after three more awkward seconds or so, Thea did indeed stand up! Yay. Too bad there weren't confetti to celebrate that accomplishment, because to her, it certainly did feel like a Herculean task. (...regressing back to her kindergarten years, huh? If it meant someone would feed her and praise her for not pissing her pants, Thea figured that wouldn't be too tragic of a fate. Still better than being stuck in some weird-ass limbo with a girl who had no right being this hot, dammit! Like, she was pretty sure that cuteness of this level should only ever be wielded by people who had a license for it, or something. A license for handling her fucking heart with care!)

"Yeah, the thing actually had the audacity to introduce itself," Thea nodded. "Not by its name, mind you, but when I broke its mind-control bullshit, it claimed it was a demon. I have no idea why a fucking demon has built a house in my head, but I kinda hate it. Like??? I don't remember it ever paying the rent, which is just rude." And if it had been some dumbass demon all this time? Well, then this meant that they'd fucking locked her up for nothing! Not that Thea had ever thought their """treatment""" was good for anything else but turning her into a vegetable, but still. Like, had some supernatural fucker just elected to ruin her entire life for funsies? 'Cause if that was what had happened, it was officially over for the sneaky little bitch-- while Thea's CV was still mostly blank, she did know how to be a giant pain in the ass, and wasn't afraid to use that knowledge. "We should kill it," she proposed, in the same tone that was usually used for ordering tea. "I dunno, but I am not fucking enjoying this whole being possessed shtick, and... oh. Thanks," Thea blushed, once again keenly aware of how fucking close Clara was. (See!!! That was why hot people should be required to hold the fucking license. That way, they'd be aware of their hotness, and wouldn't accidentally cause heart attacks.)

"...uh oh," she sighed. "I think I know where we are." Those sterile fucking walls? Windows with bars inside of them? The atmosphere that basically screamed 'kill yourself, really, it will be infinitely more bearable?' Home, sweet home, ladies and gentlemen! Ahhh, how she missed this place-- approximately as much as a bullet in her goddamn brain, to be precise. "Remember that institution I told you about? You know, the one I escaped from? Welcome to hell, I guess," Thea smirked. "Not sure why those stupid-ass tendrils couldn't have chosen my Disneyland memories, but here we fucking go. Ah, shit. The head nurse! Quickly, hide. You don't wanna be caught having a, god forbid, personality. Or thoughts. Thoughts, I've heard, are even worse. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" There was this real convenient wardrobe, you see, and both her and Clara would fit inside quite comfortably, and--

"Ah, miss Holloway," the nurse smiled her faceless smile. "Have you taken your medication today? I know you like to be difficult, but somewhere under all those layers of wickedness, there must be a good girl. There always is! Sometimes, you just have to try extra hard to unearth her, and... hmm. Who are you, my dear?" she turned to Clara, her with her expression frozen in the 'nice' mode. "Miss Holloway hasn't earned the right to invite guests, I'm afraid. She's been a very, very bad girl! So, what are you doing here, exactly? Please, tell me I don't have to release the dogs," she giggled, as if she was sharing some private joke only her friends understood. "I'd hate to have to damage such a pretty face!"

 

[ellarose]

Oh. They were in the institution? Did that just confirm the idea that this might be all it was? Maybe Clara and Thea were neighbors, exploring the halls and hallucinating on some new drug they were testing. While her brain was desperate to find a sound solution, the concept itself wasn't very comforting. Because what about the life she lived up to this point? Had that been a delusion? Only vaguely aware of her surroundings amidst all her thoughts, she followed Thea's lead. And then they were stopped. If she needed evidence that she wasn't a patient in any such institution, it came from the faceless head nurse-- who confirmed without a doubt that she didn't even know who Clara was. Despite the fact that they were stopped in their tracks, relief settled in. Relief, but also a tinge of sadness, maybe, that Thea's parents had really locked her up in a place like this. And the language the nurse used? Oh, it crawled under her skin all right. Good girl? Bad girl? Could it get any more patronizing than that? That's the way you spoke to children, not grown-ass women! Wickedness, trying to unearth her, it-- ugh. No. Red flags waved all around! It pressed enough of her buttons to light a fire under her. The comment about the dogs only fueled it.

"That's... why I'm here, actually. The dogs." Clara put on an air of professionalism, squashing hesitation under her heel and crossing her arms with the elegance of a model. If she was going to improvise, of course she would latch onto the dogs. Assuming these dogs are even real. Oh, this was going to end terribly, wasn't it? In a real institution she might have kept her head down and apologized, settling for roasting the nurse in her mind. But in topsy-turvy faceless land? Yeah, she could afford to be bold if it meant making it out of there alive. Thus far, it seemed crucial that she and Thea stay together. And so, despite the calm she wore as easily as a pair of comfortable shoes, her heart nearly pounded out of her chest with every word she spoke. "Yes. I'm investigating whether or not your institution here is treating them with ethical practices. Their living conditions, for example. Are they being kept in cramped quarters? Do you keep them chained up? Have you considered that you're not only exploiting them by giving them a task that would be better suited to human beings, but that you're also endangering their safety by setting them loose?" So, what? She's passionate about dogs and their safety, okay? She shook her head slowly, then, as if sorely disappointed.

Seventy-two words! You've come so far. The voice made a casual reappearance, tinged with amusement. Where are you going with this, dove?

Um. Clara didn't know, exactly. And that's what was so terrifying about it. Nonetheless, there was no time to entertain the peanut gallery in her head. The nurse, at least, was too confused at this point to make another comment, which gave her the opportunity to continue. It just cracked its head to the side in that unsettling way all the other faceless creatures had up to that point.

"I've been gathering testimonies from staff and patients alike. It's looking bad, ma'am. Real bad. Miss Holloway was just telling me how you threaten your guests the same way you just threatened me. I'm, ah, afraid it gives me clearance to shut this whole place down." Clara squared her jaw and leveled her gaze with the nurse. Might have just pressed her luck there with that stretch. But, reasonably, she should be allowed to get away with some bullshit in a world that was full of it! Except she probably wouldn't, because that simply wasn't the way the world worked. Because, as the saying went, it was unfair and all. "Ah, there's my boss. Right behind you. See?"

And, miraculously-- whether it believed her story or not-- the faceless nurse did turn around to search for the non-existent boss. (It did so by turning only its head, like an owl does, which was appropriately creepy. But at least it turned?) Except now wasn't the time to celebrate over that, you know, considering there was no such boss to be found. "...Don't mind me, I'm going to escort Miss Holloway out of here now! Goodbye!" Adrenaline pumping, she grasped Thea's hand and broke into a run. Because she really doesn't want to find out what the nurse meant by calling the dogs. "Don't... don't you dare laugh. How do we get out of here?"

 

[Syntra]

Despite all the chaos in her life, one thing had remained a constant throughout the years-- namely, Thea always fucking knowing exactly what to say. Eloquence could basically be her second name! (...or not. As far as names went, this one was trash-tier, really. Still better than Apple or Styrofoam, granted, but she'd rather not judge her would-be name by the standards of parents who clearly fucking hated their children. Like, what would her peers shorten it to? Elo? A good choice, at least if you happened to be a creepy android who developed self-awareness in the least surprising scifi movie """twist""" ever. Quence? Also good, for a fucking currency. Nope, nope, nope. Her real second name may not have struck fear into the hearts of her enemies, but at least it sounded like something an actual human would pick, thank you very much! In that parental test, mommy and daddy hadn't failed... too hard. But, you know, considering the extent of failure in pretty much every other area, Thea was willing to overlook tiny details like that.)

Anyway, the point? The point was that she was the goddamn master of words-- if you needed to convince a bald guy to buy a comb, Thea was your gal. Craftfully, she'd spin a narrative so fucking smooth that all the excuses would roll off of it, like droplets of water off of a goose's feathers, and... uh. Why the fuck couldn't she find her voice? (Not that its whereabouts were a mystery, mind you. Anatomically speaking, it had to be somewhere in her throat-- since, you know, vocal cords tended to have some pretty conservative ideas about moving. Even so, her knowing that changed fuck all! Because still, still Thea couldn't talk, seemingly frozen in time. Ah, shit. Shit, shit, shit! The nurse was staring at her with her x-ray gaze, too, and she fucking knew that she could see right into the depths of her stomach, and she... uh, she had gorged on some pizza before she had gotten the glorious idea to follow the voices. And that meant what? A punishment, duh! Because pizza was for good girls only, and Thea had been a bad, bad girl. ...what would it be this time? How many hours in isolation? Oh no, please, don't take my gramophone away. It's the only way I can hear something aside from--)

Oh. Oh. Clara was here, too, wasn't she? That much Thea could tell from, you know, hearing her speak, and also standing next to her. Duh. (A part of her felt it wasn't a duh-worthy thing at all, though. Nah, mate. The vision just brought her back, you know? To those dark, dark times when she'd been a kid, and everything about these fancy prisons had seemed so scary. ...which, haha! A good thing that Thea was a fucking grown-up now-- as a member of the adult class, nothing terrified her anymore. Nothing, aside from maybe her health insurance getting more and more expensive with each passing year. That was an Approved Adult FearTM, and thus one that was also okay to have! Faceless nurses, on the other hand? Just trashy survival horror game material, unworthy of any real emotional investment. Yep, yep! ...trauma? What fucking trauma? Thea didn't know her.)

Buuut yeah, Clara speaking out might have saved them-- she'd give that to her, no problem. "Why the fuck would I laugh?" Thea asked, genuinely baffled. "That was some pretty awesome improv. Are you like, an actress? You're pretty enough for that," which, uh, was a piece of information she probably should have kept for herself, "...and shit. I guess." Real fucking smooth, Thea! Was there a faster way to destroy all that street cred she had amassed for pulling out an axe on a fucking zombie? Scientists all around the world were still looking for that answer. "A-anyway," she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear, "I got distracted." Oh, shit! In the context of everything else, how would she interpret that statement? Distracted by fear (true, but unpleasant), or distracted by her hotness (also true, but not necessarily here)? Thea didn't remember buying the ticket to Awkwardville, though it seemed that was exactly what she'd get! "Just keep walking," she recommended to Clara in the end. "There, this fucking corridor. Turn left, and then... oh." Because, hey, why the fuck not! Of course the passageway would be blocked by a fucking Cerberos-- a three-headed dog, as black as the night itself, with its fangs bared.

"Hello, ladies," it greeted, as if it was a normal fucking thing to do. "I heard something about you wanting to leave? I'm afraid you'll have to... hmm, prove that you are upstanding citizens first. You know, I don't like using that word, but... yes, normal. Well? Will you tell me a normal story? Both of you, please. You must cooperate, or it will be no evidence at all!"

 

[ellarose]

"I j-just... ah, never mind." Clara stammered around the question, somewhat baffled by the fact that Thea was baffled. Because she was used to attracting bug-eyed stares whenever she dared to voice more than, say, three sentences at once. And the stares often evolved into comments about her quietness and sometimes even laughter, which had a funny way of dissuading her from opening her mouth to talk again. Compliments were new. On top of feeling that she was put on the spot, all around it was just a recipe for a cocktail of nerves for her! "I-I'm more of a set-- and sometimes costume designer." Before she could delve into the fact that she wasn't an actress, but technically attended enough theatre rehearsals to understand how improv worked... something else took her for a spin. Like the fact that Thea just called her pretty. Which really doesn't have to mean anything. Why would it mean anything? This wasn't the first time she was called pretty, after all, and none of those times meant anything either! And yet no matter how many times she repeated that in her head, her ears singed red. For someone who looked so badass with an axe to think she was...

Oh. Was Thea distracted? Because it certainly seemed like Clara was, too. Useless birds, the both of you! How do you intend to make it out of this one? The voice, of course, was unhelpful and even more useless than he claimed they were collectively. Then they turned down the hall and found themselves face-to-face with a creature that actually had a face. Three of them, in fact. Cerberus. As in Cerberus, the guard of the underworld. So... were they trying to break into the underworld, or to break out of it? Honestly, the answer wasn't entirely clear in a place like this. Who knew where they'd end up next after this? Clara certainly didn't. Even so, there were several places she would prefer to be, compared to the inside of this dreary institution. It'd undoubtably make Thea feel better to leave, too-- someone didn't get locked up in a place like this and return with warm, fuzzy nostalgic feelings that they missed it upon revisiting. No, absolutely not. For her sake, they had to get out of here first. Then they'd figure out what to do afterwards.

In a convoluted way, Cerberus aligned with what Thea said when they got there. Welcome to hell, right? They might as well have been escaping the underworld, if that's how she perceived it in her mind. Because... because they were in Thea's mind now. Maybe if she figured out what Cerberus represented in the real world to Thea--

Real cute how you're trying to make sense of all this, dove. Better pay attention to those sharp teeth if you know what's good for you.

Right. And now this not-normal talking creature was asking them for a normal story. So was its definition of normal the same as normal for her? The concept was complicated enough to be a riddle, really. (She wondered, then, how people might react if somebody showed up with a Cerberus to the 'Santa Paws' photo event at the local mall. It was usually chaos, anyway. Some people flat out pretended that they couldn't read signs and would bring their chickens, goats and tiny horses when the sign clearly specified dogs and cats. And technically, Cerberus actually counted as a dog. Then again, any memory of those events deserved to be burned away with fire. Raoul had been in a pinch when that girl from his work didn't show up, so of course she went in to help him... after a reasonable amount of sibling bargaining, anyway. But the fact that wearing the freaking elf costume was a requirement for the job was...) Good grief. Sleep deprivation may be kicking in on top of everything else-- she just wanted to ask the hound to step aside and let her go home already. The thought of having to fight a dog, even one of the three headed variety, may be what pushes her over the edge.

"...I could tell you about my dog. She's waiting for me right now. Doesn't take well to being left alone for long, either." Clara wasn't sure how this was going to go over. "She was a-abandoned by her original owner. An influencer who didn't realize that her breed sheds a lot. Or that dogs have to eat and go outside--" Okay, she might just go on another tangent at this rate. It was a legitimate issue, though, those people who brought pets home just to post cute pictures of them online. Then they gave them away when the responsibility became more than they realized or, even worse, just left them on the curb someplace and drove off. "Um. So she was left in a park to fend for herself. Lost an eye out there, too. No one else was going to take her, so I did. Th-that said, I'd really like to make it home to her." Raoul initially said they should name her Cyclops because of it. Clara thought that honing in on that one feature for her name was unfair, though, and that she looked more like a sweet, fluffy ghost. So Spooks won. (Or, you know, Clara's puppy-dog eyes won.)

Cerberus doesn't make any indication of whether or not her story was normal enough. It just lets out a gruff hum and turned its three heads in Thea's direction. Well, it did say both of them, didn't it?

 

[Syntra]

Cerberus. Fucking Cerberus! (As far as Greek mythology went, Thea supposed, this was actually sort of tame-- better than being kidnapped by the motherfucking god of the Underworld, tricked into staying there, and then having your story romanticized centuries later because, oooh, ~dark aesthetics~. Still, considering how much of a clusterfuck the Greek literary tradition was? 'As far as Greek mythology went' wasn't a determiner she was remotely comfortable with! And now, ladies and gentlemen, it wanted a story. A normal one, too. Normal by whose fucking standards, though? Like, would it yeet her into the depths of hell if she dared to describe, say, playing a videogame? Because, presumably, dogs didn't tend to do that often. The very concept of Tekken or The Elder Scrolls series sure as fuck would seem strange to a creature who spent most of its days chasing its own tail. Then again, if she spoke about eating dog food, or sniffing other people's armpits, would it it not consider her a to be a tryhard? Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh! Why did choices have to be so fucking hard? At least, when she'd still been stuck in her sorry excuse of a room, all those Good Doctors decided exactly what she needed. When you judged it from that angle, the existence at the asylum had been quite comfy-- only, too fucking bad that their response to that question had always been 'more fucking drugs'.)

'What? Would you like to return there, little crow? Seems like you have a premium opportunity to do just that!'

'Shut the hell up,' Thea rolled her eyes. 'Besides, shouldn't you be, like, giving me a lecture about freedom being born of you accepting the consequences of your actions, or some other hippie shit?'

'Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't a Disney movie. Also, I am a demon. Avoiding my responsibilities is my entire shtick! Why do you think I'm here, even?'

'Yeah, that's a good question. Why ARE you here, actually?'

His laughter echoed through her mind, and fuck, did Thea hate that sound. 'Well, well, well. Wouldn't you like to know, little crow? You'll have to put on your Sherlock hat, I'm afraid.'

The conversation with the demon kinda kept her busy, so Thea only realized it was her turn to speak when awkward silence enveloped the corridor-- which, eeek. This was seriously giving her highschool flashbacks! (Contrary to the popular belief, this was entirely her teachers' fault. Like, if they couldn't capture the attention of a brilliant, developing young mind that she had been, then what was their excuse for existing? ...and, no, it had had nothing to do with her always reading fucking magazines under her desk. That was the effect, not the cause! Get it right, bitches.)

"Ah. Ah, okay. Wait, lemme see. A normal story, a normal story... Okay," Thea nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "Once, when I was a kid, I almost missed the school bus. I overslept for some dumb reason-- I think I may have secretly watched some 18+ movie that they aired really late at night? Like, nothing raunchy," she raised her hands in a defensive gesture, as if the fucking Cerberus would judge her for her ~loose morals~. "It was a scifi flick. Lots of blood everywhere, cybernetic limbs, yada yada yada. I'd rate it like five out of ten now, but then? My elementary school mind was fucking blown, I'm telling you. Anyway, my mother woke me up and so I didn't miss the bus. The end. Can we go now? 'Cause if the bitch of a nurse comes and sees us here, it's gonna be real fucking awkward."

Cerberus, however? Cerberus regarded them with a stare that was all but impressed. "Well, that was... certainly normal. I wouldn't really call these stories, though. Did you sleep through your English classes, girls? Because, as far as I know, there needs to be some semblance of rising action, climax and resolution. No," he shook his fluffy head, "you just described some fairly mundane events! There was no plot. Your, umm, cooperation also leaves something to be desired. Oh no, no, no. This won't do at all!" (Absurdly, he reminded her of Ms. Collins in that moment-- an English professor so ancient that it seemed she had seen not only the WWII, but also Alexander the Great's empire and Hammurabi crafting his famous set of laws. Just, the vibes were the same, man! ...somehow. No, Thea wasn't going to provide an explanation, and she didn't accept constructive criticism, either.)

"You'll have to try again," Cerberus announced. "And together this time, too. You weren't on the same page at all, and-- come on, Thea, don't give me that face. I'm sure that, if you learn to cooperate with Clara properly now, you'll appreciate it later. How else do you expect to be able to save poor little Lizzie?" ...Lizzie? What the fuck? More importantly, why the hell did literally anyone think she was capable of saving... well, anyone? Thea hadn't even managed to save herself! Whoever had picked her as their knight in shining armor must have been a goddamn idiot. "I can tell you later, as a reward. If you pass the test, that is. Anyway," Cerberus huffed, "I'll make it easier for you, I suppose. A prompt, so that you don't have to think too hard! Tell me about two girls falling in love."

 

[ellarose]

All Clara could do was mirror Cerberus's unimpressed stare back at him when he told them that it wasn't good enough. There was a part of her that could genuinely cry-- because, really? She just wanted to go to bed! She worked a late night, she was tired physically and mentally at this point. And, what, did it expect them to write the next best seller standing in the middle of this hellish Wonderland? The three-headed dog neglected to tell them it was a group project from the get-go-- the directions were unclear! It said both of them, yes, but that-- ah-- that wasn't what needed to be questioned, though, when it brought up the matter of saving someone named Lizzie. Curiously, she glimpsed Thea to see if any recognition appeared on her face. They were in her mind, right? So this must have come from her somehow! Except that she didn't spot a trace of recognition on her face. No, it seemed that the other woman was just as confused as she was.

"Who is..." Clara began to phrase her question, but Cerberus made it perfectly clear that it wasn't going to be answering any questions until they did what it said. And, uh, what it asked for specifically caused her defenses to shoot up and bristle like a cat's tail. "A love story. And what is that supposed to accomplish?" Cautiously, she took a step backward, tilting her head and squinting to peer into the nondescript void stretching behind the three-headed dog. "What are you guarding, exactly?"

"Story first. Answers la--"

"No." Clara set her foot down. She wasn't rough in her delivery, just firm. Kind of like she was handling, ah, a misbehaved dog for lack of a better description. Which turned out to be more fitting than expected. "I'm not telling you any stories until you tell me what's behind that door."

'Ooooh.' The voice chorused annoyingly, much like other students do when somebody gets in trouble with the teacher or called down to the principals office. 'That's right, dove. If you want something, you say it with your whole ch--'

'Quiet, you.' She hushed it. To which it replied with a velvety, 'Feisty.'

"For once, I'd like to know where we're going next." Clara stated, refusing to flinch away even as the dog leaned in towards her. Its unsatisfied huff created enough of a breeze that it made her hair flutter out behind her. It was so close that she could smell its breath. Which was... strangely sweet? Like fruit. The rows upon rows of jagged, sharp teeth weren't so bad compared to what she was beginning to fear might wait for them beyond that void. Especially if the action of writing a love story acted as a bridge. Maybe she was overthinking things, but if one dot connected thematically to another, there was a very real possibility that-- "At least tell me this. We're not going back into my memories after this, are we?"

"When you pass, you will go where you are meant to go." Cerberus relented. "Lunchtime is almost over. And two human peach pies will not save Lizzie."

'Tick, tick, tick.' The childlike voice sang, as if to solidify the sentiment that their time was running out. Then it finished with a flourish, 'Boom!' Clara furrowed her brow. This voice, the child's face from earlier. Was that Lizzie? Either way, Cerberus gave such a non-answer that it left her unsatisfied. But the task presented itself anew in her mind-- this had all begun with the beech tree and the search for peaches, hadn't it? They'd been thrown into such a whirlwind since then that she had nearly forgotten about it. In a way, part of her hoped those faceless cooks with their long, shiny knives were long gone and forgotten, swallowed up by the nonsensical world they had stumbled into.

"Was Lizzie the teacher from before?" Clara brought her index finger to her chin, seemingly oblivious to Cerberus's waning patience. "Was she acting out another role during lunchtime? One of the cooks, maybe?" Except there were four of them, each one identical, robotically similar in their gestures. How were they meant to tell which one they were supposed to help?

"...Curious as a cat." Cerberus's left head growled. The right hummed in agreement. "How does that saying go again, about curious cats?" The left wore a sinister, bloodthirsty smile. "They get killed."

Clara swallowed. The fear that was absent before crept back into her heart at the sight of that predatory gaze.

Cerberus's center head, the one that took charge of most the talking until now, huffed an irritated sigh. It gave off the impression of being the eldest and most reasonable sibling of the three. "Silence! All of you." It glared daggers at Clara and Thea, reiterating the prompt from earlier. "Tell us a story about two girls falling in love. Now."

Clara could have easily quipped that fanfiction sites were a treasure trove for stories like the one they were asking for-- but she was clearly walking on thin ice after her display there. No more stalling or surely it would break. And who even knew where they would end up then? So she turned to Thea with a halfhearted shrug.

"Once upon a time there was, ah..." Clara honestly had no idea where she was going with this. So, with no small amount of hesitation flashing in her eyes, she reached for a simple concept. "A princess in a tower? She... craved peaches. They were growing on the trees down below, outside her window. But she was forbidden to leave her tower. All she could do was sit at her windowsill and stare at them."

 

[Syntra]

Answers later, huh? Answers later her ass! So far, Thea's experiences with phrases like 'not now' or 'till you meet an xyz condition' had mostly suggested that they were just a fancy way of saying 'never, you fucking dumbass'. And since, somehow, they had apparently been transported into her mind? It only made sense that they'd be fucked over in the way she was so intimately familiar with! ('Blah blah blah, Thea,' her mother had said so often, 'you need to behave. If you do, everything will fall in place. You'll see!' If, by 'place,' she had meant a fucking asylum, then sure, it probably hadn't even been a lie. ...somehow, Thea doubted that was the case, though. Like, she hadn't checked whether the concept of the American Dream had been ~revised to reflect the values of the 21st century lately~, but she didn't think literally any rendition of it would entail being stripped of your legal capacity. Just her personal opinion, though!)

So, yeah, Thea wasn't exactly holding her breath here. You know what, though? She also had a pretty good life hack for managing these situations-- namely, not giving a single flying fuck. Lizzie this, Lizzie that, honestly, who cared? Certainly not Thea. No, Thea just wanted to return to her stolen car, thank you very much, and... uh. Do shit that didn't revolve around killing waves of faceless bastards, solving Lizzie-related mysteries and being questioned by literal fucking Cerberus, maybe? Yup, sounded like a plan. (Afterwards, she could go see the Grand Canyon, and take hundreds of photos she'd never fucking look at just to prove she'd been there.)

'What,' the demon chuckled, 'you're gonna post them on social media? Great thinking, little crow. The cops might be too dimwitted to find you without your cooperation!'

'...how do you know what those are? Aren't you, like, supposed to be stuck in the era of candles?' No sireee, Thea Holloway wasn't bitter that a literal non-human had outsmarted her at what should have been her own game! Besides, it wasn't like it was her fucking fault that she'd spent a large portion of her life behind bars. You kinda... started not thinking about the practical things after a while, you know? (You started not thinking at all, which was what had scared her the most, really-- the white, thick fog where her thoughts had once used to be. Do you have any idea how much the world would have missed out on had it not been for her precious, precious insights? The place was depressing enough without losing about 70% of its fun factor!)

'Pffft, you wish. I've been here for a very, very long time, little crow. You pick things up, whether you like it or not. I, for example, have an Instagram account. It helps with followers and whatnot, really.' Wow, okay! Even demons, it seemed, could live the fucking dream these days. Everyone could do whatever the fuck they wanted in America, the land of the free-- unless, of course, their name happened to be Thea Holloway. And, in that case? They'd fucking lock you up for hearing voices that weren't even false! Just her fucking luck, truly.

But fine, fine. Cooperation made the world go round, didn't it? Love as well, and so now they were apparently telling a fucking love story. (Ugh. Couldn't Cerberus at least, like, try to set the proper mood? Some wine and rose petals would go a long way, but nooo, he chose to demand romance solely because he could. Disgusting! Disgusting and boring as well, which, again, was the least romantic combination ever.)

To Clara's credit, however? She started the story off pretty well, all things considered. (Princesses were a classic, man. All the bitches loved princesses, and yes, by 'bitches,' Thea primarily meant herself. ...what? Let the one who had never dreamt of saving Aurora from the curse cast the first stone. Fairytale crushes were important, mostly because they gave kids a safe outlet to obsess over.)

"Yeah," Thea nodded. "She, uh, wanted to climb down, but being a princess, nobody wanted to give her a rope. Honestly, they probably thought she wanted to kill herself. Like, haha, imagine being stuck in the same boring-ass tower for years! Anyway, our princess tried to make a rope from bedsheets. She was a practical princess, though, and so she made sure whether it could carry her weight before doing anything truly dangerous. Spoiler alert: no, it couldn't! Don't worry, though," Thea waved her hand, "she just scraped her knee."

"Blah blah blah, a few more days passed. Her misery only grew deeper, of course, but then! Then she realized she had been a dumbass all along, because, as a princess, she could have asked literally anyone to bring her those peaches. So... yeah. On that fateful day, the princess looked out of the window and shouted at a random girl: 'Hey, you there! I demand peaches. Give them to me, and I will be pleased.' Because, obviously, that's the best fucking way to appeal to a person. Royals are delusional, though, so don't be too shocked!" ...see? Very realistic so far. Now, what would Clara come up with? Something inspiring, hopefully, as Thea had no fucking idea where she was going with this.

 

[ellarose]

Clara watched quietly as Thea narrated her half. Years without speaking, years spent observing theatre classes-- she had enough practice that, when necessary, she was able to communicate her opinions pretty clearly with the succinctness of well-timed facial expressions. Thoughtful neutrality had a sort of softness to it (So far so good. Thea was rolling with it rather well.) doubt was a raised eyebrow (Blah blah blah-- really? Cerberus didn't look particularly impressed at this bit, either.) and lastly, dubiousness was a little scrunched up face. Random girl? Oh, come on. That description, or lack thereof, left much to be desired! Now their princess was as shallow as a kiddie pool and her love interest was boring enough to be labeled 'random girl'. Okay, okay. Maybe she was getting a little too invested in this now.

And honestly, if she was going to dig even deeper than that, then she would go into the whys of the whole thing. Why was the princess locked up in the tower to begin with? And if it was common knowledge to the townsfolk that she was trapped in said tower, why couldn't they be bothered to help her out? Also, it would be totally unreasonable to assume that no one ever delivered food to her, especially if she was in there for years and years. (Or else they would be dealing with a dead princess and a haunted tower. And Clara preferred to keep their princess alive, thank you very much!) Anyway. If someone went out to do her monthly grocery shopping, then why couldn't she just, you know, put in a request for peaches? Easy fix.

'Why does she need to be alive, again? A ghost princess clearly solves all your problems. The bird doesn't realize that she's dead. She doesn't realize that she can't eat those peaches she desires so much.'

'What? No. I'm not cheating.' Clara shot it down faster than she could blink. Sure, it had a point. But, yeah, no. Technically they were still in a school and this was an assignment, right? This was solely up to her and Thea-- and relying on a bloodthirsty demon felt icky. Besides, Cerberus would probably sniff that out the same way the teacher saw through lies.

'Cheating?' Pfft.' The voice laughed, sounding so very amused that Clara wished she could punt it away the same way she punted that zombie head earlier. Goodness. That freaking zombie. What a long, long night this has been.

"Yes. Well, she might have seemed like a random girl to the princess..." Clara quickly supplied when she realized she had let a stretch of silence sit between their respective parts. "But she was actually a... a reclusive inventor. She lived on the outskirts of town. People rarely ever spoke to her, so she kept her eyes down and went on about her business without ever realizing that the princess called out to her."

"This perplexed the princess. Now, she wasn't a stranger to being ignored. She was locked up in a tower by her own parents, for goodness sake. And they ignored her more than anyone. Never read her letters, never bothered sending her the peaches she asked for. They were truly terrible." Clara tilted her head and brought a hand to her cheek. "But, um, this time was different. Because this time she was ignored by a commoner. And that was unheard of."

Of course, it wouldn't work to leave it there, before the characters even met! But this was an important part of the process, you know. Without motives and backstories, they'd be nothing more than cardboard cutouts. Flat and flimsy and dimensionless as a pair of paper dolls. After pausing for a beat to get her thoughts in order, she continued.

"The inventor girl passed by the tower a lot after that. Maybe she was, uh, collecting something from the forest nearby? Right. Anyway. Whenever she saw her, the princess would call out with those exact same results. And something strange happened. Every time she walked by, the 'random girl' looked less like a 'random girl' and more like an interesting girl with a story of her own. She had a kind smile and a funny walk. She always fed the birds her scraps. In spite of herself, the princess found herself wondering about the girl, what her life was like. In fact, she thought more about the girl than she ever thought about the peaches." Clara bit her lip. The characters still hadn't met yet-- and more than that, they still needed to fall in love! What was she doing? Tiredness must have taken the reins. There was palpable anxiety she felt just from talking as much as she has. Embarrassing as it was to admit, the sound of her own voice made her nervous. With every word she spoke, the timbre became more wobbly and shuddery. "A-after a while, she noticed that the girl always wore a red ribbon in her hair. The day she pointed that out was the day she finally got a reply. 'You there, with the red ribbon. Look this way, please.' And, ah, so-- she did. She looked up. Finally."

Yes, finally. Clara bashfully averted her eyes and shrugged her shoulder in Thea's general direction to indicate that it was her turn.

 

[Syntra]

When Cerberus had given them this ridiculous task, Thea had approached it in the same way in which she approached pretty much every single duty that had been forced on her-- namely, with dull resentment and expectation of failure. That was how things fucking went for her, you know? 'Thea Holloway,' it seemed, was synonymous with 'fuck up,' and going against your ~fate~ literally never paid off. No, really. Ask all those dumbass Greek mythology heroes who thought they could somehow circumvent their destiny, only for them to run straight into its arms! Even her mother, the eternal optimist, seemed to think so. ('Dorothea, dear, please be more careful regarding what you tell your friends. They don't need to know... well... that you received all those treatments. They'd talk. It'll always be that way. Now, you don't want to have to move again, do you?' Yeah, because people learning of the brand that had been burned into her skin would be oh so inconvenient! ...for everyone else, that was. Something about it shattering the Holloways' precious reputation, blah blah blah. Look, Thea didn't care, okay?!)

Which was, naturally, why she didn't really care about anything else, either. Like, maybe she couldn't escape her fate, but surprise, bitch! Not escaping your fate was fine if you convinced yourself it was fine, 'cause the world literally existed in your head. Thus spoke The Matrix, so it had to be true. (Building her entire personality out of random pop culture references to stave off the existential dread? Thea Holloway? Pffft. That was only, like, 60% true! ...mostly because the remaining 40% of it were composed of associations so abstract that they made your head spin, delusions of grandeur and romantic fanfiction featuring Yours Truly as the ead. See? The healthiest fucking personality ever, straight out of those commercials that featured Successful PeopleTM.)

Clara, though. Via some black magic shit, no doubt, she kinda sorta managed to peak her interest-- not in a serious way, of course, but just enough to make her wonder what would happen next. A princess and an inventor, huh? Oooh, finally a pairing that seemed promising! None of that good girl and bad girl shit, or whatever it was that people who imagination must have been surgically removed wrote. Okay, okay, okay. So, what was the appeal of such a pairing? Mainly the contrast, she guessed-- the princess, stuck in her literal ivory tower, and the worldly inventor. (Had Thea been one of those """journalists""" who wasted their degree on writing shit-tier advice columns for women, she likely would have pointed out how they could learn from their differences and shit, too. You know, akin to two puzzle pieces which fit perfectly into one another? Some meaningless platitude like that, yeah. Except that, plot twist: Thea wasn't a fucking journalist, nor did she worship platitudes. Oh no, no, no. She did see a deeper appeal to the dynamics as well, though-- the sheer trolling potential, that was. A clueless noble, bound by all those stupid traditions, and a girl who must have been real unconventional? Comedy gold, really! Not taking advantage of that, Thea thought, would be a fucking crime.)

"Right," she nodded. "Well, the princess was like: 'Greetings, mysterious lady. Could you please consider bringing me one of those peaches? I have a dire need of them.' Just, being all pretentious and shit. I think she even hid her face behind a fan, 'cause that's supposed to be more polite for some reason." Which honestly made zero sense to her! Hadn't humans, like, developed to base tons of judgments on facial expressions alone? How could making stuff more difficult for everyone be seen as poli-- oh. Oh. That was the entire goddamn point, wasn't it? To overcomplicate simple stuff so that you could pretend you were way more sophisticated than you really were! Bollocks, indeed.

'A dire need?' the inventor girl asked. 'Are you sick, my princess? Will only a peach from this tree cure you?'

'No, but--'

'Are you cursed, then? Is the peach the key to breaking the curse?'

'No. It isn't anything serious like that! I'm just, uh,' the princess fiddled with her thumbs, 'curious. I want to know what they taste like.'

'Then you don't have a dire need of them. You merely want them,' the scientist pointed out.

'Ugh. Yes, I suppose that is true! Will you bring them to me now, then? Please.' For the princess, that question was a formality. Everyone had always granted every fucking request of hers, you see? Even the ridiculous ones. That was, uh, why she was locked in the tower, actually-- her parents had had enough when she had almost caused a war, or some shit. A big, big diplomatic fuck up! So, the king and queen had reasoned she needed to learn some humility. The princess was still delivered food and such, sure, but only boring stuff like bread and unseasoned chicken and, worst of all, porridge." Thea winced at those words, as if they caused her physical pain.

"Peaches were strictly off limits for her, and so the inventor girl was her only chance. Except that... 'No,' the inventor girl said. 'I don't have time for these things. Unless... hmm. Would you participate in my research? I will bring you a peach every day if you do.'

The princess didn't like conditions, but she did like peaches, and, as she had to admit, she was also curious. Such a thing didn't happen to her every day! Plus, this was a real good chance to learn more about the girl without seeming weird. 'Well,' she said, 'that sounds fair. What is it that you're researching?' ...aaand yeah, Thea hadn't actually invented that plot point yet. Good thing that Clara was here, then!

 

[ellarose]

Given the time to breathe, Clara genuinely was thankful to have Thea there with her. Otherwise, her nerves would have inevitably dissolved her into an incoherent mess. There had been a part of her that was telling the truth in that classroom back there, you know? About the glossophobia, her fear of public speaking. It was beyond her control and frustrating more than anything else, when her voice hit that point where it shivered, liable to break apart. Having to narrate a complex story on her own, even in front of an audience solely composed of a mythological dog with three heads, was the stuff of nightmares. She could know exactly what the hell she was talking about, she could be talking to a trusted friend, and eventually her voice would still shake against its will. So while the other woman took her turn, she wisely used that time to count to ten a few times, to steady her breathing in preparation for the next time she would have to speak.

Moreover, Thea was clearly a master of dialogue in comparison to her. (Not that a quiet people were incapable of writing good dialogue, mind you. However, speaking a story into existence was a very different matter compared to writing one down in a notebook or, say, tapping it out on a keyboard. It kind of required that you be a good speaker yourself to also speak for your characters. That, too, was a tidbit she observed in the theatre. That, though, was something she had never put into practice. Of course she wouldn't be able to whip out impeccable acting-level enunciation when she never dared herself to try it before.) Clara could give credit where it was due. Thea was good about breathing life into the princess and the inventor, in giving the characters personality and their own ways of speaking. If this were an assignment where she was meant to critique the skills of her partner, that was what she would write at the very top of her 'pros' list.

"Hmm." Clara tucked a lock of hair behind her ear when her turn came around. Okay, deep breath. She can come back at it fresh now that she's had a breather, right? Just relax. Just get a grip. "The inventor explained that the forest around them was full of enchanted creatures. She would never harm or hunt them, but she often ventured inside to forage for things they left behind. As a little girl, she built practical things with them. Now, though-- now she wants to build something extraordinary." Pausing for a moment, she turned the idea over in her head. "Over the years, she collected various oversized bird feathers. And she wished to create a pair of wings that a human being could use to fly. A human glider, in other words. But wings sound more romantic, so... um, she called them wings."

Clara blushed, realizing the part she had solely meant to think about wings sounding more romantic was something she'd just said aloud. Recovering quickly, she clears her throat.

"What the inventor didn't tell the princess was that she was deathly afraid of heights. This made it difficult for her to test the invention properly. However, this also made the princess the perfect candidate. She practically lived the last few years of her life in the clouds, after all, so high up in her tower." Clara took a moment to think once more, on how to keep it going. They needed to bring them closer to actually falling in love, you know, before they ran out of time. She couldn't get caught up on every single minute detail. "They met an hour before sunset every other night, when they would not get caught. The princess climbed the staircase used exclusively by servants delivering supplies at the back of her tower... and the inventor unlocked the door for her with one of her magical lock-picks."

"Outside, the princess practiced using the wings. And, of course, with the peaches as incentive, the inventor instructed her to glide as high as the peaches were on the tree branches. That way, one day she might fetch them herself. She had to work for them, in other words. At first, the princess did not take very kindly to this. She crashed often, messed up her beautiful hair and soiled her fine dresses in the dirt." Clara nodded sternly. "The inventor was always kind and patient, though, which, um, dissuaded her from ending their deal or acting too bratty about it. And as the weeks turned into months, she became quite good at it. Especially as the inventor made changes to the wings, according to her research. The first time she grabbed a peach for herself, the princess felt something she had never felt before. She was proud of herself for her accomplishment. The fruit tasted all the sweeter for it... but there was a bittersweetness to this taste, too. Because if the invention was indeed a success, was there any need for them to continue to meet this way?"

"Um, so... the next time they met, the inventor confirmed the princess's fear by saying this might be the last time. To commemorate the occasion, she brought a special cake she'd made with some of the peaches they gathered. She suggested that they have a picnic to celebrate." Clara paused again, getting her thoughts in order, "Sunset passed and they talked late into the night. The moon was full that night and there was no need for them to worry about the darkness. And, uh, the conversation became deeper than either of them could have anticipated." Conversation, yes. As in, more dialogue was needed. That was Thea's cue!

 

[Syntra]

Uh. Enchanted forest creatures? Fucking wings? What was next, alternative realities and corporations suddenly donating money to charities? Like, not that Thea wanted to criticize Clara's choice of narrative devices, but she distinctly remembered Cerberus wanting them to tell a normal story. What kind of reality did the other woman inhabit, then, if this seemed normal to her? Some kind of Alice in Wonderland-flavored utopia? (Then again, she reasoned, the doggo hadn't really specified what was normal to him. And, like, this was actually shockingly mundane as far as fairytales went, right? No insane twists there! ...aside from the protagonists being two women, of course, but that was the premise they were meant to work with. So, if he actually planned to punish them for following the damn outline instead of pairing the princess up with some bland toast of a prince whose only redeeming quality was not being an abusive douchebag, Thea would fucking sue! ...or, alternatively, whack him over the head with some newspapers and accuse him of not being a good boy. Yep, suck it, Cerberus! Looking like a dog would not fucking save him, for she was merciless when dealing with her enemies.)

Anyway, yeah. Despite her plot-related criticisms, Thea actually somewhat enjoyed the story Clara spun-- mostly because of the imagery. (Like??? It was off the charts cute! Just, the symbolism of it all, man. Not that Thea was a fucking nerd, of course, but her nerd radar was extremely well-calibrated, and she could pick up on their pitiful signals. And now, what did her radar say? It said that, somewhere, ten thousand literature teachers cried out in ecstasy! The inventor girl literally gave the princess her wings, and then she taught her how to fly for good measure. Obviously, the whole thing was a fucking metaphor for their entire relationship. With the inventor, the princess finally tasted some semblance of freedom! With the princess, the inventor... hmmm. What, actually? Like, it was obvious why the princess might want to do love-y shit with the princess, but so far, her counterpart didn't seem that involved. Yeah, yeah, getting to run her experiments probably was important to this proto-nerd, but where the fuck was the emotional weight? Romance without emotional weight just fucking sucked, mate! The other character deserved an arc as well, and... okay, maybe she was slightly into this. Don't judge, alright? Between chugging ten different pills every day, staring into the ceiling and murdering nurses who dared to stand in her way, she just didn't get to do fun stuff that often! And fun, as everyone knew, was vitally important to the human soul.)

"Okay," Thea gave Clara a thumbs up, "Thea taking over. Anyway, they talked about... uhh, heavy shit. A lot of heavy shit. The princess, among other things, confessed to the inventor that she wasn't all too keen on that arranged marriage nonsense her parents had concocted, while the inventor admitted her lifestyle of a recluse wasn't all that appealing and maybe, maybe, she resorted to it because others had never fucking accepted her, not because she was too cool for school or something." Nope, not autobiographic at all! Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, was purely coincidental. "And, um. She also kinda confessed that this was the most fun she's had in ages? Not that this meant much, as previously, her idea of fun was reading a book that didn't contain ten unpronounceable words per square centimeter." Wow, wow, wow. Could she like, not devalue their epic love story? Because it had to be epic, now that Clara had gone and made it not-normal. If they were swinging into the opposite direction, they had to do it so daringly as to dazzle Cerberus! That way, he might forget about his own fucking rules, actually.

'Oh, I see,' said the princess as she played with her pie. 'But, friend of mine, pray tell-- why didn't you want to fly on your own? Your wings are such a wonderful, wonderful invention. It felt like, before they came into my life, I knew not what freedom was!'

'Well,' the inventor quipped, 'that's because you were literally locked in a tower. Duh.'

'No dodging the question. You are aware of what I meant, are you not?'

'Well, I... I guess I owe you the real answer. I'm...' the inventor blushed furiously, 'afraid of heights. Go on, feel free to laugh!'

But that was exactly what the princess didn't do. Nah, mate. She looked at her counterpart, and smiled, and, get this, grabbed her hand. Which was a fucking scandal, of course. Like, this is some vaguely Victorian world, and showing your ankle was considered the height of immodesty. Anyway! The princess looked her in the eye, and the inventor felt like she saw her for the first time ever in that moment." ...what? Thea had read love stories as well, you know. She'd mostly done it to laugh at the terrible """romance""" between the protags, and the way they seemed to fall for one another solely because they seemed to be a man and a woman in a similar-ish age bracket, but that didn't mean she hadn't picked up some ~lovey dovey~ phrases!

'Can your wings possibly carry two people, my friend?' the princess asked.

'W-what? Well, technically, I suppose, but I'm not sure whether...'

'I want to show it to you,' the princess interrupted her, which was obviously peak impoliteness. At the same time, though? She discovered that she didn't fucking care! Suddenly, reaching her heart with her words was way more important than some made-up bullshit peddled by people who didn't fucking know what to do with their time. 'The same kind of world you've shown to me, I mean. I want you to taste this freedom as well. And... and I will be there with you, to catch you in case you fall. Or, or, or! I will break your fall, at least. I've gotten good at falling since we started this little project of ours, my friend. So, what do you think? Will you fly with me?' And, you know, that question felt tremendously important to the princess. Somehow, she was asking way more than what the question actually said! The implications made her heart race." ...okay, she was officially done here. Hopefully Clara could take over from now own, because it sure as fuck seemed as if this scene killed most of her braincells. Just, the embarrassment! Coming out with the things she, Thea Holloway, considered to be romantic? In this setting? Weird, and uncomfy as hell. Almost like learning your partner's medical history on your first date!

 

[ellarose]

Clara almost smiled for the first time that night. Emphasis on the almost, here, as it was very easy for your immersion to shatter amidst even the sweetest of stories when a giant Cerberus was breathing down your neck. But Thea's half was rather cute, she would give her that. Touch it up a bit and it wasn't even half bad. It'd go nicely in a little book of fairytales. In fact, she finds that wouldn't mind hearing another story from Thea in the future. She had a nice voice for-- (No! That's besides the point. They needed to get out of here. This was not the time to be taking a vacation in her daydreams.) And to do that, they needed to wrap this story up. They needed to bring everything they built up towards a conclusion. Towards love, preferably towards a happily ever after... and, well, that couldn't happen without some conflict mixed in, right? So in preparation for her turn, she took the different elements into consideration. The arranged marriage, the inventor's fear of heights... there had to be a way to connect it all and wrap this up without it becoming too long-winded.

"The princess's heartfelt words reached the inventor... and yet she refused. She said she wasn't ready. Maybe she was afraid of falling in more ways than one, you know? After all, she had grown very comfortable talking with the princess. More comfortable than she had been with anyone in her life. And one day the princess would surely have to go back to her life in the castle that she had talked about." Clara began, "Of course, she didn't say that part out loud. Instead, she brought up another point-- and a valid one at that-- that, um, she still needed to make some practical changes to her invention for it to carry more than one person."

'Very dramatic.' The voice yawned, 'You could have killed them off in a flying accident by now-- then you'd be finished with this malarky!'

'We're telling a love story, not a tragedy.' Clara's eyebrow twitched. Narrating a story was hard enough without the extra commentary in her head! And like a gymnast performing a complex trick, she needed to concentrate to land the ending gracefully. The demon must be trying to throw her off for that very purpose. So bloodthirsty, the way it went after the teacher in her skin. Not only that, but it had goaded her about tearing the faceless cooks throats out. Hm. Could it be that this voice doesn't want them to save Lizzie? Ugh-- no, no, no, she couldn't get caught up in this now!

'I'll have you know that many of the greatest love stories are tragedies, Nancy Drew.' The voice hum-hummed. 'Or are you going to interrogate me about little Lizzie? I can give you some of the answers you're searching for! ...For a price.'

'...I'll have you know that's completely subjective. If you don't like it, you can leave.' Clara noticed Cerberus staring at her, then, and swallowed hard. She had to ignore this and press on! 'In fact, please leave.'

The demon just laughed, as if that was a very naive request. And perhaps it was.

"Ah, t-the princess was d-disappointed, obviously. But she was strong-willed and didn't give up on her friend so easily. Did she give up the first time she fell and tore her stockings? No. Because even after she whined about it, the inventor encouraged her to keep trying. She didn't intend to give up now. So she suggested that they take baby steps first, to warm her up to the idea. And after giving a speech the inventor found quite inspiring, she suggested that they spend a few nights up in her tower together. Which, ah, she of course phrased more elegantly." Dialogue would be the death of her, if the demon in her head didn't take her out first. Clara attempted to iron out her nerves with a deep breath. "After all, the tower stood so tall that the spire practically disappeared into the clouds. Though it made the inventor's stomach turn, she agreed to this arrangement. What would it say about her to give up, after the princess had tried so hard to assist with her research? Um, and so they spent many more nights together."

They learned much about one another by essentially living together in the tower. The inventor would bring new books and foods. The princess's boring life wasn't so boring anymore. And late into the evenings, the inventor would make the appropriate changes to the wings while the princess watched. Eventually, the inventor worked up the courage to sit near the windowsill where the princess used to sit and stare at her beloved peaches. And she said something bold. She s-said that, perhaps tomorrow, she would be ready to fly with the princess. After this, they shared their first kiss."

Clara blushed. She had an idea in mind at this point, but was frazzled from speaking for so long, her hands and voice both quavering. Wringing her hands together, she pressed on.

"H-however, the next morning they woke to the sound of horses. Unannounced, the princess's parents had come to pay a visit for the first time in months. Panicked, the princess told the inventor to hide in the wardrobe. She hurried to clean her tower room, pushing the wings under the bed and disposing of their leftovers. The only thing she forgot about was the magic lock-pick, which sat on the corner table." Clara gave herself another breath. "The king and queen barged into the room and announced that the dispute she caused was settled. You see, this dispute involved her accepting beautiful jewels sent to her by a prince from a distant kingdom. She was so young and inexperienced then... a-and, without realizing the implications, by accepting and wearing them out in public, she basically insinuated that she had accepted his hand in marriage. So, um, when she refused the prince to his face, his kingdom was not very happy with it. It had taken her parents many years to smooth this over and... now the prince was ready to give her a second chance. Now that she had, er, 'matured' by facing her punishment and living humbly in a tower.

Anyways. The king noticed the lock-pick sitting on the table and quietly pocketed it. The princess, against her will, was taken back to the castle to accept her fate. When the door slammed shut behind them it locked. The heartbroken inventor was still trapped inside the tower. And now, without the lock-pick, there was no way out. She considered that the princess would not just leave her there to starve and rot. Surely she would find a way to come back for her eventually. Except it was also highly likely that she would never see her again. This prince, after all, lived in a very distant kingdom. The king and queen suggested that the princess would have to go overseas and that the arrangements were already set for her to sail in the evening. The inventor searched every nook and crevice of the tower for something she could use to build another lock-pick... without any luck. All hope was nearly lost before she felt the morning breeze against her skin.

...The window was open and the feathers of the wings she had made were peeking out from under the bed. It seemed there was still one way out. Bolstering all the courage she had, the inventor donned the wings and stood by the windowsill. And, because the idea of losing the princess scared her more than idea of falling did, she jumped."

Whew. Okay. Thea should be able to finish off from here, right? Because Clara was at her limit!

 

[Syntra]

...wow. Did Clara like, not want them to get their happy ending? Thea understood, she guessed-- happy endings, after all, were just cheap fucking propaganda devised to make you think life was actually worth living. No, really. Without them, way more people would say 'fuck this shit, I'm out,' and that would hurt some demonic corporation's sales. Also, less tax money! Which would be the real tragedy here, folks. Anyway, she didn't really mind. What about Cerberus, though? The set-up he had given them was pretty fairytale-like, and it was normal for fairytales to end on a good note. So, what if they earned a trip into the Bitey Land for their twists ending? Just, ugh! Hadn't Clara realized yet that Thea wasn't a fucking team player? When it came to, like, high school presentations, she let the others carry her on their backs! Saving anyone's ass but her own wasn't her forte, and... oh. Oh, she wasn't getting them into trouble, actually. Not at all. Clara had apparently decided to write a best-selling novel here, complete with... with character arcs and shit. Wow. Talk about being an over-achiever, mate!

'She's taking her sweet time, isn't she?' the demon whispered in her ear. 'By now, you could have been outside and doing... whatever you like doing. Feasting on corpses, probably.'

'Is that supposed to entice me?' Thea raised her eyebrows. 'Like, you do realize I'm not a literal fucking crow, right? Also, also, I'll have you know that the crows living near my home were happy to eat bread. The corpse stuff is just a cheap cliche used by shitty fantasy writers.'

'Pfft. You do have to admit I'm right, though. Do you want to grow old here? If you want, I can propose an alternative--'

'No, I don't, actually. Here's an alternative solution for you-- you can fuck right off.' She couldn't see him, obviously, and yet, on some level? On some level, Thea could tell he was bristling like an angry cat. 'Serves you right, dumbass. You think I'm gonna take protips from the fucker who tried to erase me from my own fucking body?' Mommy and daddy may have called her dumb, and usually for many good reasons, too, but she wasn't this fucking dumb. Oh no, no, no! This demonic MLM scheme, or whatever the fuck it was, certainly wouldn't fool her-- so, if the demon wanted some actual results, he was free to choose some other poor bastard to latch onto. With some sweet-talking, Thea would even give him a list of suitable victim!

...but, okay. Finish the story first, right? 'Cause it was getting kinda long, and the nurse might barge into the hallway at any given second. Fine, fine, fine. How to wrap it up in a satisfying way? The prince wouldn't fucking get the princess, that was for sure! Entitled princes/kings just weren't cute, especially if they basically tricked their spouse into marriage-- like, wow, way to become totally unlikeable in less than three seconds, bitch! No entitlement issues at all, Thea was sure. (The people who romanticized this shit should take a long, hard look in the mirror and then go to therapy. Like??? Therapy was mostly brainwashing, yeah, but some brains fucking deserved to be scrubbed clean. Human rights activists hadn't died for this bullshit!)

"Um. So, yeah. Knowing what was at stake, the inventor took the step she had been so afraid of taking. And, surprise, surprise! She didn't fucking die." Duh. Such a story would have sucked, and they weren't exactly interested in telling a story that would elicit a 'boo hoo' from their audience. Not when, you know, their lives depended on it! "The wings worked, so found herself soaring the skies, and man, was the scenery breathtaking. Shockingly so! The inventor even forgot she was supposed to be afraid, and when she did remember... well, the fear still didn't return. It works in funny ways, you know? Like, when you let go of it once, it gets offended and refuses to keep you company. Really childish, if you ask me. Anyway, her only regret was that she didn't get to share this with the princess-- and that she was currently being married off to some sneaky bastard. Yeah, that was a problem, too," Thea nodded sagely. "Luckily, she was an inventor, and so she had a solution to literally every problem under the sun." Scientists worked like that, didn't they? ...fuck off, mate. She just wanted her plot point, and by god, was she going to get it!

"So, the solution? An engine. She had been working on it to surprise the princess, and now she, uh, attached it to the wings. That the king and queen had a headstart didn't fucking matter, because no horse could compete with this... this miracle of modern technology. Not in the long term, anyway! So she flew, and didn't even stop when the night fell, and, sure enough, our inventor caught up with the royal carriage soon. Luckily for her, they stopped at a local inn. What a perfect moment for her to intervene, right? And intervene she did.

'Hey! Princess!' she shouted after flying up to her window.

'Oh!' the princess put her hand to her mouth, obviously startled. 'I... goodness gracious, you're flying.'

'Yes. Thanks to you. You inspired me to do so.' Ah, there she went! What a delicious fucking character development. 10/10, and chef's kiss, and all the other popular memes Thea had missed out on thanks to being stuck in a fucking asylum.

'My princess,' she continued, 'I cannot give you much. With me, you won't own precious jewels-- hell, we may even go hungry at times. But... well, I can give you the sky. My heart as well, if you want it.' Wow, so cheesy! How come Thea had even managed to say that without her tongue fucking melting? Her cheeks certainly felt as if they were going to melt, and... No. Finish the goddamn story! You've gotten this fucking far.

'If it's... if it's enough for you, I'd like you to go with me.'

'Ah. Of course! Of course I'd like to go with you,' the princess agreed, tears in her eyes. 'But where?'

'Wherever we want,' the inventor replied.

And that, uh, was the end. They lived happily ever after, I guess." Expectantly, Thea looked at Cerberus-- was this enough? 'Cause if not, she could start planning her new career as fucking dog food.

 

[ellarose]

Clara drew in a deep breath and held onto it as Thea concluded their story. Yes, it was undeniably cute. And yes, maybe— maybe— it gave her the warm fuzzies she usually (...and secretly, okay, always secretly) felt after hearing a sapphic, tooth-achingly happy ending. (Can’t blame her for appreciating what she could get, right? Like, come on!) More than that, though, telling a story alongside someone who never once twisted up her nose ih judgement at the notion of crafting a love story between two women, who simply rolled with the punches and treated it like a normal fairytale was very... well, it was reminiscent of knowing she wasn’t the only one who heard voices in her head. Like, for once, she wasn’t the outsider. Wasn’t all alone. It was like she found a place where she actually fit, and...

Point is, save for the fact that Thea ended with a rather ineloquent 'I guess' and some of the other, um, haphazard bits, their story honestly wasn't all too shabby. There was a beginning, a middle, and an end. All the structure one needed to tell a normal story. Which was exactly what the three-headed dog had asked for. How could they have gone wrong?

Either way, that warmth swiftly faded to a cold that pierced through her and froze to the marrow of her bones. Any vaguely good feeling she got from hearing their ending was replaced with apprehension. Waiting for a reaction like this, her heartbeat was reminiscent of a ticking time bomb, counting down to self-destruction. Because her opinion didn’t really matter, did it? It was Cerberus they needed to worry about. Cerberus who decided whether they proceeded or... or what? Died? (If she lived past tonight, she wagered that this entire night would take years for her to process at best. Oh, of that she was nearly certain. As it was now, the only word that came to mind was what. Just— what!? What the ever loving f—) They spent a few minutes on this fairytale as it was and were apparently running out of time. So if this didn’t work, what would? Because Clara sure as hell didn't possess the willpower to build yet another story from scratch. No way. Not with her voice. Tested over and over and over, she swore she might shatter if she tried to use it again.

There was, of course, another layer to this anxiety that she thoroughly refused to acknowledge. Echoes that sounded like torn paper, recollections that reeked of smoke. No. Nope, not going there. The last thing she needed right now was to take a wrong turn down the particularly traumatic juncture of the sharp twists and turns that made up her memory lane. After all, even while subtracting that whole mess from the equation, Clara still wobbled on the precipice of yet another full-blown panic attack. The wait seemed to last a lifetime.

"Hm. Now, tell me: what do you think of your story?" Cerberus stretched towards them, nostrils widening as it inhaled a deep breath. "...I smell fear on you."

Okay. Fine. Clara might have been scared. Terrified, even. But she certainly didn't look it when she shot the three-headed dog her staple resting bitch face. Because perhaps... perhaps she didn't want to lose whatever remained of her dignity in front of Thea? (It shouldn't matter what the other woman thought. I-in fact, it didn't! But she called her pretty earlier, and maybe--)

"...Well, isn't that n-normal?" Clara ventured, tilting her head. Silently, she cursed herself for stuttering. (Or, rather, she swore with softened alternatives. You know, the way you might in the presence of young children. Shoot. Sugarsnaps. Because, uh, presumably Lizzie was a little girl. And if she was listening in, then...) So much for dignity, huh. "Regardless of whether or not we like our story, the fact-- the fact remains that you're putting us under a lot of pressure here."

"...Normal enough, I suppose." Cerberus replied after a moment of genuinely thoughtful contemplation. The two heads on the right and left echoed this sentiment soon thereafter with sage nods. Once they were all decided, the center head cleared its throat and then proceeded to spit three peaches into the palm of Clara's hand. They were soft and dripping with slobber, reminiscent of a toy a dog would back to their owner while playing a game of fetch. (...Which officially made this the second time she retrieved a vital item from the mouth of a supernatural creature that night. Ugh, gross. Their objective was met, though, wasn't it? Couldn't they take this as a good sign that they were one step closer to making it out of this cursed school?)

"I suppose. Still needs work." One of the heads stated, eyeing them both up and down. Another piped up with a forgiving, "They'll get better." And then the first replied, "If they live through this."

"If we live thro-- no. Wait. You promised us answers. What--" Tick, tick, tick. Unfortunately, Clara never got the chance to finish her question. The ground suddenly disappeared from beneath their feet, as if they'd been standing on a hidden trapdoor that entire time. And with that, she and Thea plummeted down, down, down towards the tiled cafeteria floor below. Hah. Oh god, oh god, oh god-- this was it! If only they had those fancy engine-powered wings now--! 'Doves like you don't climb, they fly. Will you let me be your wings?' The voice either repeated the words it used before or she remembered it very vividly. Either way, she noticed the shadowy hand slithering alongside them, down the bark of the beech tree. Without any time to consider the consequences before the inevitable occurred, Clara seized it.

'Yes. Yes, now there's a good dove.' She dangled from where she was suspended in the air for a moment before, er, growing wings of her own? They weren't made up of legitimate magic feathers or anything like that, but they still worked the same way. Kept her from falling to her death, in other words. The hard-earned peaches slipped from her other arm and down to the murderous cooks waiting below. And when faced with the choice of saving Thea or the peaches--

Of course Clara was going to help Thea! And thank goodness the demon wasn't strong enough to prevent her from doing so. Using her new wings, she clumsily swooped towards the other woman and held tightly onto her. Without any significant muscle to lend to her efforts in this endeavor, it wasn't quite so heroic or badass as they sank at a gradual and much less dangerous pace to the floor. (They're still alive, though, so no complaining here!) Once their feet were planted firmly on the floor... they then found themselves surrounded by those four faceless cooks with their long, shiny knives.

 

[Syntra]

Ugh. Like, why did teachers and authority figures in general feel the need to do this? Was it some kind of fucked up power trip? 'Hurrr durrr, perform this meaningless task that your whole life will depend on for some stupid-ass reason and then eVAluATE UrselF!!11!!' Just, Thea could see the trap wire from mile away, and the whole floor was straight up covered in it. (You give yourself a low score in an attempt to look humble? Boom, you outed yourself as a dumbass with no confidence who should probably die. You give yourself a high score to demonstrate that you were, in fact, a mature individual with a healthy sense of self-esteem? Well, well, well, a little too arrogant, was it not? Daring to like yourself and shit, without some snooty professor's approval. To the Failureland with you! You know, to learn some pointless lesson about humility, so that you could fail in a different way next time. And if you gave yourself the average score? That only proved you were small-minded, boring, and probably destined to polish other people's shoes. No, really, this only revealed the extent of Cerberus' fucking sadism! ...Clara, of course, simply had to jump on the 'average' bandwagon, but Thea refused to. Like, no, mate. If there weren't any right answers, anyway, then she was at least going to have some fun with the assignment!)

"Normal?" she raised her eyebrow. "Well, I think we were awesome. As in, off the charts awesome. That sorta is normal for me, I guess, but I would just like to point out how good the story was. An award-winning novel, if you had the decency to give out awards. In fact, where's my fucking prize? In fairytales and the like, protagonists always receive a reward for completing a task. Well?" ...was she pushing her luck? Maybe, but to be honest, Thea had stopped giving a fuck roughly around the point at which squirrels had started speaking. The rest of the world had ceased making sense ages ago, so why should she of all people become the sole crusader of Logic? Like, they didn't call her Thea the Delusional for nothing! The chains others called 'common sense' only had a very loose grip on her wrists, and with these exciting developments, she gladly cut them off for good. "And, I mean, it's only fair. Copyright laws are a thing, you know, so us giving you the license to use this story should be rewarded. I don't want to threaten you with a lawsuit, friend, but I'll have you know my mom knows a guy who knows a guy, and the Guy #2 actually managed to make someone pay reparations to his client for..." For what? Shit, quickly, something absurd!!! "... for emotional damages caused by having to craft that fucking lawsuit. Yeah, that's right!"

Cerberus, however, needed no further convincing. Instead of money, he gave them... peaches... and sent them to hell? Well, to the cafeteria, which was hell, for all intents and purposes. (Wow, awesome! Thank you, Cerberus airlines, for Thea would surely use your services again-- if she happened to survive this clusterfuck, that was. Judging by the speed at which the ground approached, though? Duh, not bloody likely! Too fucking bad she hadn't listened to her mom when she'd spoken to her about 'being responsible' and 'writing her last will'. ...still, hadn't that been her fault? Had she opened the request with something else than responsibility, which was something she had, by the way, been avoiding very diligently for most of her life, Thea might have listened! Or not. Hard to say, really, given that like 80% of her personality consisted of acting as unpredictably as possible-- thanks to this nifty little trick, it mattered fuck all whether the aliens read her mind or not as what they found out there probably wasn't true at all. Checkmate, bitches!

The peaches flew past her, heading towards the floor-- and, more out of instinct than anything else, she reached after them. Which, success! One last surge of serotonin till her bones were fucking smashed, Thea guessed. Now it was time to close her eyes and enjoy the flight while it lasted, and... huh. This... felt comfy, actually? At least compared to her body being crushed, which, admittedly, was a low bar to pass, but still. Carefully, Thea opened one eye, and... shit. (Was she blushing as furiously ad she thought? Probably! Clara was a certified high quality cutie, you see, and this mirrored the scene from their fairytale all too closely. Like, it wasn't her fault for jumping to these ~romantic~ conclusions! Anyone would have, really.) "I, um. Thanks?" she grinned. "If we get out of here alive, I'll buy you a coffee."

Landing among the murderous cooks, however, kinda took precedence here. "Ta-dah!" Thea raised her loot into the air. "We have your shitty peaches. Can we go now?"

"Oooh, the little miss thinks she can go," one of the cooks giggled. "Well, the little miss is wrong. Getting the ingredients isn't enough, you see? Someone has to bake the pie as well. Spoiler alert: that someone will be you."

"Hey!" Thea furrowed her brow. "That wasn't our original agreement, Baldy McFaceless. We promised to get you some peaches, and here they fucking are!"

"True," the cook admitted, "except that we have knives and you don't."

'Obey. Obey. Obey,' a voice in her head said, which, fucking duh, Sherlock! Not gonna argue with an armed psycho. "That... uhh, that is a good argument, not gonna lie. How sweet do you like your pies, huh?"

So, just like that, Thea and Clara found themselves in the kitchen. It was a completely normal room, really, except that when she lifted a lid from some random-ass pot? Lizzie's face was floating there, looking all but unimpressed. "You two again," the girl sighed. "Don't you know when to give up? Again and again and again! On and on it spins, and you don't have the power to stop it. Nobody does. But, alright. You've come this far, I suppose, so I can give you your reward. Not for free, though! Tell me what you've learned from your stay here, and I will answer your questions. School is for learning, you know-- I won't speak to children who don't pay attention during their lessons. Mommy said it's bad for you!"