#metzli: ireland
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@muertarte from here:
[pm] Very sorry it is so sudden. It has been very uncomfortable. Planes are not natural.
Are you okay? Did you pick up your allowance?
[pm] It's [...] fine. [user feels sick with the lie, but she looks up across the cave. her dad is watching her. he won't leave. she knows he won't leave. she feels better.] I've never been on a plane. Just a boat. I didn't like that, either.
I'm okay. I don't need any allowance right now.
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TIMING: April 19, 2024, immediately before this
LOCATION: Airport / Airplane
PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake), Metzli (@muertarte), & Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes)
SUMMARY: Anita, Metzli and Xóchitl make their way to Ireland!
Despite having very little context for why this impromptu trip was occurring, Anita was quite excited to head off to Ireland - not just because of the vague promise of seeing Siobhan naked. Life had been so hectic over the past few months and she had begun to question the choices she made that had led her to this town, and all of the complications that came with living in Wicked’s Rest. A trip, a chance of scenery and pace, felt like exactly what she needed to refresh. So while it seemed odd when Siobhan had invited her to go visit her hometown but the inherent curiosity to learn more about her strange and beautiful co-worker was really all she needed to say yes. The fact that Xóchitl and Metzli had also been invited was really just icing on the cake.
The semester was nearing its end and Anita had been able to cash in a few favors from the other professors in her program to cover her classes while she’d be away. She had packed nearly twice as many bags as Metzli, not wanting to be in a situation where she didn’t have the perfect outfit for whatever activities they might be partaking in. It took a bit of rearranging, but there had still been plenty of room in the car to accommodate Xó’s bags. After all, it made more sense to carpool to the airport.
Knowing that Metzli was feeling a bit uneasy about the idea of going on an airplane, Anita had set the radio to their favorite station for the drive to the airport - turned off. “Have either of you looked up the area where we’re going to much? Seems like more country than city living. Pretty sure the whole state of Maine is bigger than the whole country, though, so I’m sure we’ll have time to see a bit of everything if we want.”
_
“There are going to be too many people.” Metzli rocked idly in the back, grumbling half to themself and half to their companions in the front. Normally they’d have taken the passenger seat, but given they were leaving during the day, the best protection from the sun that they had would be in the back, where the windows had been tinted perfectly for them. They were grateful for that, finding so much relief in the way Anita had been so accommodating. She even went as far as to keep the noise to a minimum, further adding to the comfort they were experiencing.
It felt important and necessary. Not just because Metzli needed it, but because Xóchitl still didn’t know their true nature. There were enough variables to keep the vampire from relaxing, but because Anita knew them so well, they were rolling their wrists contentedly and sipping on a bag of blood as if it were a capri-sun. Another of Anita’s accommodations. She insisted on the sunglasses too, and Metzli agreed so they could hide their eyes. Though, something told them it gave her some sort of amusement. Probably the snort and a laugh she released. That had to be a clue.
“How much longer?” They grumbled again, taking a sippy break. “I have been too anxious about flying in this metal bird to do Googling on Ireland. It is not natural to be in the sky in metal.” A shiver raked up their spine and they groaned into a sulk, continuing to sip to alleviate their irritation.
_
She knew that she could use some spontaneity in her life. Not that Xóchitl had been non-spontaneous recently, but still. Going on a trip to Ireland was something she hadn’t done before. Anita and Metzli were coming too, which only added to the fun. She’d immediately agreed when Anita had suggested carpooling, because that just meant less unnecessary complexity. Emilio had agreed to watch over Esperanza, so there was that taken care of, even though Xóchitl would’ve liked to take her, and even though that would’ve helped quell any sort of anxiety she had, Esperanza was better off with Emilio and Teddy and Perro.
“We’re here for you, Metzli. Just concentrate on that.” She offered them a small smile from the front seat. “You can wear headphones on the plane, and you’ll be safe.” Xóchitl knew that she couldn’t technically guarantee that, but even just mentioning it had to be some sort of helpful. Hopefully.
“Yeah,” she nodded at Anita. “I looked it up a tiny bit because I like research, what can I say? But it’s more country-like, but we should go to a city sometime if we get the chance. I just want to see an authentic Irish sheep. Which sounds silly, perhaps, but you’ve got to appreciate the little things. Plus I want to try Bailey’s Irish Creme and also whatever other classic alcohols are there.” Another turn back to Metzli, “it’s wild and not natural, yeah, but it’s also a miracle, according to some. I know it’s how Mama and Manman went to México and also Haiti, and it was more efficient than driving or taking a boat. Besides, I brought snacks.” She tapped her bag.
_
“We’re close. Not much further to the parking area,” Anita reassured Metzli. There were a lot of things that she wanted to say to Metzli, both to poke a bit of fun at them and to try and calm them further. After all, people always said normalcy helped calm people when they were anxious about a new experience, and normalcy for them was Anita poking fun. But she’d have to be careful, not just in the car but for the duration of the trip, with what she said around Xóchitl. Especially since Xó would still be able to understand her if she switched to speaking in Spanish. By this point, having known her for some time, Anita was fairly certain she was as human as humans came. A shame, really, but the reality of the situation. Not only was she exceptionally human but she was unaware of the fact that she was sitting in a car with two fanged beings.
“It’s not natural to be in a metal carriage driving around but you do that. You’ll see, the plane isn’t anything to be scared about.” Anita did not want to be dismissive about their concerns but she also wanted to show them that this was a normal thing to be doing. “I definitely want to check out some of the city life,” she agreed, turning her attention to Xó, “not sure they’re well known for tequila but I suppose the trip would warrant a departure from my drink of choice to test out these whiskeys they are supposed to be famous for.”
As they passed a sign noting that the airport was only a few more miles away, Anita relayed the information to Metzli in the back seat. “I’m also excited about exploring the countryside too, though. I don’t think they have a particularly diverse ecosystem but I’m interested to see what kind of insects might be around where we’ll be staying. Wouldn’t that be fun, Met? Going on some nature hikes. We could go at night, too, to get a sense of what kind of nocturnal creepy crawlies they’ve got.”
_
“Yes, but the metal carriage is closer to the ground and is not in the sky!” Metzli softly exclaimed, not really going into a true yell. They knew better than to raise their voice at their friends, especially when they’d done nothing wrong. It was just the anxiety and overall change in routine that put their mood on edge. They sulked, their head sinking in embarrassment. “I am sorry. I will not yell again. New things is hard.” With that clarity and awareness, Metzli clung to it and began to rock themself in their seat, counting up to eight before repeating themself. It was their safe number, and each one leading up to it would get them through the new experience.
Two of which were sitting up in front, while a few remained at home and a few others resided in Ireland. For now.
“I appreciate both of you. Almost forget about my phonies.” With another deep breath and a pat to their bag, the bristling at the back of Metzli’s neck began to settle, and taking a final gulp from their pouch relaxed them completely. “Crawlies are good. Will you help me take pictures on my phone? I want to have memories to show Leila.” They paused, thinking of all the things their partner had recommended they do on their first trip outside of home. “She say I should also take photos of myself. Maybe we can do this with the whiskey.” Their head tilted curiously as they searched through their memories with their roommate. “Have I had this, Anita?” If they had, Metzli couldn’t recall it. Then again, they rarely asked questions when Anita put a drink in their hand.
“Are we there yet?”
_
“You don’t have to say sorry, and that wasn’t yelling, promise.” She still felt a need to reassure Metzli at every turn, to make sure, perhaps, that they didn’t retreat into themself again, like they had when they’d first met. But right now wasn't the time to focus on things like that – on things that could be seen as a bad omen, or anything else. Not that Xóchitl was going to voice that particular train of thought right now (or ever, but right now seemed especially necessary).
“New things are very hard, and sometimes a lot of shit. But we’re here, and so it’ll be good.” Xóchitl would’ve winced at how falsely optimistic she sounded, because it wasn’t who she was (not really, though she supposed she was more of a cheerful person than she ever would’ve admitted, which, ick. Maybe.)
Still, she wanted to be there for Anita and Metzli even if she didn’t understand exactly why she was going to Ireland, but a trip wouldn’t be bad, right? It was even something that she’d wanted to do, and since Emilio hadn’t taken her up on her offer to go traveling.
“We’ll take lots of pictures, happy to help you, and to take some of you and for you too. My… boyfriend probably wants photos too.” Xóchitl rolled her shoulders back. “We’re not there yet, but we’ll make it work. Okay? That’s a promise.”
_
It wasn’t long after that Anita pulled her car into the long-term parking lot at the airport. They were a bit earlier than she would have been arriving for a flight by herself, but she didn’t want there to be any unexpected stresses that came up. “Okay, Aer Lingus is flying out of Terminal C. I already pre-paid for checked bags, so we just need to drop our stuff off at the main counter before going through security.” She took the keys out of the car after she parked, then looked back at Metzli, “People are going to be very dumb and annoying, okay? Just stand in between me and Xó so dumb people don’t bother you.”
The airport was expectedly crowded, full of dumb people all pushing forward to get to their gate only to sit around for an hour before their flight even boarded. Anita had been through many airports before, but she knew that the experience was going to be a lot for Metzli, no matter how much she tried to prepare them. As they were loading their items up on the security belt, the woman behind Anita kept trying to push forward and shove her in the middle of their group. “What time is your flight?” She asked, somewhat innocuously to the woman after her second attempt to squeeze in. “It’s at 3,” the woman huffed back in response.
Anita smirked, intentionally taking a long time to take off her shoes so Metzli and Xó could go through security ahead of her. “That’s fantastic. Sounds like you have plenty of time to calm your ass down, stop being a maldito pendejo, and still get to your flight with time to spare.” The group managed to get to their gate without incident, however, their journey was just getting started.
_
Anita was perfect to have around when there were crowds involved. She had an intimidating energy that parted people to the side without her needing to speak. Although, she always did take the opportunity to impart a little vicious wisdom on some people. It made Metzli feel seen and taken care of, like they finally knew what family meant. What it felt like.
They hardly minded the way the cool lights overhead buzzed and thrummed when they were required to take off the phonies for security. It felt pretty easy, for the most part. Their fake passport worked and Metzli had mentally prepared to manipulate the crew to let them through, but they were fortunate enough to not need that ability. Sometimes using it was inevitable, they knew that. It just felt better to not have the need to control people. They knew what it felt like to have everything taken. All too well, in fact.
“Thank you.” Quickly, Metzli took their bag and placed the phonies back on their head. Everything muffled instantly and a sense of calm surrounded them with warmth. “One…two…three…four…” Metzli counted quietly to themself, absentmindedly reaching for Anita’s hand once she stood next to them. Their thumb massaged the back of her hand, a pattern that kept in time with their counting. It kept them peaceful, from biting anything. Well, besides the inside of their cheek.
_
Anita had a good point about people being very dumb and annoying – there certainly seemed to be a higher concentration of that in airports. If she could help Metzli not have to deal with that as much, then that alone would be a win itself. Finding the gate wasn’t too bad either – and not that Xóchitl believed in good luck signs, not really (so much of her life would be different if those were real), but the three of them moving smoothly through the airport and finding their gate was seemingly seamless, and she’d take that win.
“Do either of you want drinks or snacks? I brought some, but figured we could always get more if we want. It’s overpriced but sometimes chips from airports taste even better than ones from the store.” Xóchitl shrugged. Thankfully, they’d be called in one of the first groups, if not the first group, which would undoubtedly make all of this easier. The sooner she could get a glass of wine, the better.
Without missing a beat after Metzli grabbed her hand, Anita reached over and linked her free arm in with Xóchitl’s as the group made their way to the gate. After finding the most secluded seating area possible near their gate, which was still not all that secluded, she pulled out her phone to see when their boarding time was. “Have you ever known me to say no to a drink?” She teased with a grin, “That’s one of the best parts about airports, if you ask me, there is almost always an open bar somewhere.”
_
“They should be calling our group to board in less than thirty minutes.” Anita almost noted that was the expected time provided there were no unforeseen delays, given how often those seemed to happen during air travel. But it seemed like an unnecessary possibility to speak out into the universe. “If you two want to hold down the fort here, I’ll go get us all a round of mezcal?” It was a question mainly to Metzli, as Anita wasn’t sure if they would want a drink or not. She had packed a few travel sized bottles of blood for them since it wasn’t exactly a short flight, and was thrilled that they didn’t raise any suspicions going through security. Then she turned to Xó, with a warm smile, “And whatever flavor of deliciously overpriced chips your heart desires.”
After getting everyone’s orders in, Anita went off to the nearest bar. Which was within spitting distance, practically. It didn’t take long for her to return with several overpriced libations, a few salty treats, and a few sweet ones. That was what humans did, wasn’t it? Bought way too many snacks for a trip that was undoubtedly going to provide them with some more snacks?
_
There was no rejection Metzli’s part. In fact, when Anita let go and went on her search, they went on their own. A single round of mezcal wasn’t going to be enough for them and their dead body. They needed far more than most to feel any of alcohol’s influence, and so they found themself at the same bar Anita found. Only, they were across the way where she couldn’t see them.
“Five tequilas in those little glasses.” They tapped the bar, “Please.” In a matter of seconds, they were placed in front of them, and they drank them in rapid succession. “And four more, please.” The bartender gave Metzli a look, and they stiffened. “They are for my friends.” A nod. “Here.” With four bills on the table, the bartender shrugged and gave Metzli what they requested on a platter. “Keep change. Goodbye.” They looked more than happy at the money, and without saying another word, the vampire rejoined their friends.
“These are for me.” The platter was placed on the table with a light clack, and they realized three shots between two people was uneven. With a grumble, they sacrificed one of theirs so Anita and Xóchitl could each have two. “Better.” Metzli smiled awkwardly and downed their drinks. “And more better.” There was hardly a burn on the last swallow, but it was enough to make them shift in their seat.
“Metzli Bernal, to the front desk.”
Metzli stiffened and lit up, realizing they were about to board first after the arrangements Anita made for their peculiar needs. “I get to sit at the window.” They chuckled, disappearing with their things.
_
Anita and Metzli both seemed immediately agreeable to the suggestion of alcohol, which, win. Not that Xóchitl had had any sort of real doubt about whether or not they’d agree, but it was still good. Maybe a drink (or a few) would get her brain back to actually working, rather than whatever nonsense was going on now. Lack of general eloquence, lack of understanding about just what on earth was going on. But she liked doing things without thinking about consequences, and doing things with friends was even more fun. It brought her back to college, and grad school, even. Not always in the best of ways (but that wasn’t the point right now, was it?), but now it could be in the best of ways.
Or in the goodest of ways. Which wasn’t a word, but again, not the point.
While Anita and Metzli went off on their ways, Xóchitl took a swig of a cap of alcohol she’d somehow managed to get through TSA. Not that things like that were hard, not for her, though she figured some of that had to do with projecting an air of confidence. That much she was quite expert at. It wasn’t self-centered if it was true, right?
Soon enough, both of her friends returned, and both with a few drinks. “I’m buying us a round or three of something when we get there.” She grabbed one of the drinks and the bag of chips from Anita, offering the both of them a small shrug. Metzli was called to the front desk, and Xóchitl felt her stomach clench for a moment, wondering if they were going to get in some sort of trouble (though she was ready to tell off anybody who tried to fuck with Metzli), but it turned out that they’d gotten a window seat. “You’ll love that. You can see how the world looks from way up high.” She offered them a kind smile. “Also you can cozy against the side of the plane, which makes relaxing easier. At least that’s my personal feeling on it.”
_
Anita was always quite amused when Metzli managed to surprise her. And surprised she was to see them coming back with a small tray full of tequila shots at the same time that she was returning from her own supply run. It was like they had read her mind. “Here’s to Siobhan, for bringing us all together for this strange adventure.” Anita saluted in Spanish before taking her first shot of tequila. It wasn’t Casa Dragones, but it wasn’t half bad. “And here is to all of the great Irish liquor I’m sure we will discover.” She said as she raised up the second shot, finishing it off just as the attendants called for Metzli.
If they were being called off to board that meant that the first class call wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, shortly after finishing up the rest of the drinks and reorganizing her bag a bit, the announcement rang out “We now welcome our passengers traveling in first class to board.” Anita grinned over at Xóchitl, “Vamos, mamacita.”
First class on a transcontinental flight was truly a luxurious experience. Separated from the main cabin by a hallway not just a flimsy little shower curtain. Not that it was the status that Anita really cared about, though. Sure, that was nice, but it was the comforts and small luxuries that made the expense worthwhile. “Miss me?” She teased once they ruined with Metzli in the cabin. After stowing her bags, she slid into the aisle seat and let out a soft sigh of contentment before reaching over and pointing at the screen in front of Metzli’s seat. “This can show you an overview of our flight path, can play music or movies, or you can just turn it off.” Then she turned across the aisle where Xó’s seat was. “This whole thing was so last minute I forgot to even ask, how do you and Siobhan know each other?”
It didn’t take long for the rest of the first class passengers to fill in and the attendant came around to offer everyone a complimentary glass of champagne, which Anita finished rather quickly. After all, she was on vacation.
_
Being the first person on a flight was interesting, especially when you had only seen pictures of what the inside of a plane looked like. It was only slightly overwhelming, and Metzli was surprised to find that even at their height, their area was spacious. “Oh…” They sat down and looked through the tiny window, anxious to see how the wings would fly in the sky. There was so much to touch and see. Maybe a bit too much for their liking. But Metzli thought it better to wait until Anita arrived, which felt like forever. Though, that was likely the anxiety altering their perception.
“Not really.” They replied, legs bouncing anxiously. “Will they make me sit all the way back? I…I do not like how it feels.” Metzli’s posture was stiffer than usual as they strained to avoid the seat. They could feel themself blinking more than necessary as they battled with how the lights seemed to grow brighter and the amount of people shuffling in produced more noise. With a swallow, the ringing in their ears reached a head, and they took a breath to just barely catch what Anita was saying about the small screen in front of them.
“Okay.” They nodded, swallowing once more as the flight attendant’s appearance startled them into focus. “Thank you.” Tentatively, Metzli took the plastic flute and held it firmly for a moment to gather their bearings before downing the champagne. Oh. It was the pointy liquid they didn’t like very much. They tried not to frown, to hide their discomfort and their cough, but with their leg advertising how they truly felt, it was almost impossible to get a word to not shake from their mouth. “I told you h-how we meet already. We-we had sex.”
_
She couldn’t help but throw a wink at Anita. It was all in good fun, and it was how the two of them worked after all, wasn’t it? She wanted to check on Metzli, anyhow, to make sure they’d done alright boarding and that nobody else who’d gotten on the plane already was giving them trouble. Which, thankfully, nobody seemed to be. Not that she’d expected anybody to be giving them a hard time, but it was another box ticked in the ‘things are going smoothly’ column. A column that Xóchitl realized she was likely relying on way too much. That didn’t mean she was going to stop. She relied on tequila too much sometimes, but she certainly hadn’t given that up (nor did she intend to).
“You can sit however you wish. The only rules planes have is about wearing your seatbelt, but everything else? You can take at your own pace.” She hoped that was comforting. She didn’t know if it was. Xóchitl didn’t consider herself a comforting person, but she also knew that there were quite a few people (maybe a handful, maybe less, maybe more) who might’ve disagreed with her on that.
Anita was now asking her how she and Siobhan knew each other, and Metzli had jumped in with an answer and so Xóchitl figured why not? “I also slept with her. Well, technically my neighbor tried to get us to hang out so she’d annoy me, but that didn’t happen. You and her work together, right?”
_
“I wasn’t asking you,” Anita clarified with only a slight twinge of annoyance, refusing to let her face show how that was amplified by Xóchitl’s response. Apparently Anita was the only one whom Sibohan thought she was too good to sleep with. Maybe this trip would change that. “Yes, we’re both professors. We also committed arson together once.” The comment slipped out, more of a jab to try and make herself feel a bit better since she doubted either of them had burned down a nightclub with Siobhan before. But then she remembered that Xóchitl was a human and that humans frowned on arson. “Kidding,” she added in with a bright grin and a laugh.
Once all of the passengers were boarded, the attendants began their safety demonstrations. The bright lights, the loud crackling overhead announcements, and the annoying dinging bells that preceded them, it was all very apparent that it was overwhelming for Metzli. Sometimes Anita didn’t know where the line was between being helpful and being overbearing and never wanted to inadvertently make things worse.
Anita reached down into the bag that was tucked underneath the seat in front of her and pulled out a small pouch that had a black-out eye mask, ear plugs, and some suspicious looking clearly homemade red “candies.” Whatever Metzli wanted to do with the materials was up to them. Not long after the safety demonstration ended, the plane started to taxi away from the gate and down the runway. The stiff air was mixed with sweat and people trying to mask that sweat with too much perfume. Anita adjusted herself more comfortably into the seat as the captain announced that they were about to begin their take-off.
Within an instant the noise in the cabin nearly doubled as the jet engines prepared themselves to carry the aircraft up into the sky. Anita thought about offering her hand for Metzli to hold onto but immediately thought better of it, intentionally or not they could break every tiny bone with just one squeeze. The wheels began to turn and the plane took off down the runway, the rumble shaking and jostling everyone on board slightly. After a few moments of that, the plane lifted off the ground and there was that strange pressurized sensation that was only felt when one was in an active fight against the laws of gravity. She looked over at Metzli, knowing there wasn’t anything more than what she had already done to help them through these moments of discomfort.
_
The plane rumbled and whirred, sending Metzli’s reflexes into attack mode. Even Anita’s attempts at being a good friend went missed as the sounds made their body tense. Muscle to muscle, from the shoulders and to their feet, everything flexed. With a swallow, a pitiful sound escaped Metzli’s throat and an even louder sound scraped on their right.
Trembling, they rose their fist to find that the armrest had been twisted and bent away from its place. “Oh…oh no.” The plane jumped forward, jostling the armrest from Metzli’s grasp and sending it to the floor. They looked to Anita and then to the floor, and back to her again. Well, that was a problem for later, they thought, feeling the metal carriage ascending into the sky.
_
“Well, so long as you were both safe,” Xóchitl shrugged. Not that she especially approved of arson, but she also wasn’t about to fight Anita about it. It had already been done, and the cops sucked and so who exactly was she even going to report it to?
Besides, Metzli seemed to be more in trouble and the armrest of their chair disconnected from the rest of the chair, all of a sudden, and that was both confusing and not something Xóchitl could bring herself to focus on too much right then and there. “We’re here for you, okay?” She whispered across the aisle to Metzli, giving a nod to Anita. “We’ll be there before you know it.”
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TIMING: Current
LOCATION: Siobhan’s great-great-grandmother’s shack; Ireland
PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake), Metzli (@muertarte), Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes), Siobhan (@banisheed)
SUMMARY: Anita, Metzli and Xóchitl finally land in Ireland! Siobhan greets them, though she has an odd request to make.
Love existed here, once: between the hand-cut fences, the worn spines of yellowing books, and the pathways carved into the ground by the instrument of feet. Siobhan’s great-great-grandmother built the little teachín herself, insisting that Saol Eile was too loud for her, too busy. For all the time Siobhan had known her, she’d never seen the woman come back to the aos sí; as she often said, if anyone was worth her time, they would visit her in her home. Life bent to her terms, and the people in her life either agreed or stayed very far away. As Siobhan’s mother lamented to her own grandmother, she believed the worst of her daughter’s habits had been learned at the feet of that stubborn hag. As Siobhan had always seen it, the things she could point to within herself that weren’t reflections of someone else, began here: between the fields, under the bookshelves, in the arms of her great-great-grandmother. She loved her, but love hadn’t come back to this shack in years.
Nature claimed what was once dutifully tended to; thick vines wove through cracked stone and the grass sprouted wild and lush in the old farmland. Wildflowers now adorned the landscape, home to a micro-ecosystem of insects and mice. Despite Siobhan’s best efforts, it was impossible to remove all the dust that had settled in sheets over everything. Every so often a thick silverfish would slither out from the tattered books and a new mouse—or perhaps the same over-eager one—would scurry to a new hiding spot. She’d cleaned up, sweeping away the decades of neglect, but the little shack’s age—and its new inhabitants—were undeniable. If Anita, Metzli and Xóchitl were expecting high-class accommodations, they would be disappointed. Siobhan might’ve argued that it wasn’t that bad—it was clean, just a little ancient and maybe one bad storm away from collapsing—but she wasn’t in the mood to argue for much of anything.
Spotting her ‘acquaintances’ over the horizon, she propped the wooden door open with a brick and gestured for them to follow the old, winding path down and join her inside. “I invite you all inside, come.” Yes, it was small, Siobhan wanted to say. Once, her great-great-grandmother, a small woman herself, had made the space expansive with her presence; she couldn’t explain how it felt the walls had been pushed out and the roof lifted to the sky and that she hadn’t noticed how tiny it all was. Instead, she offered: “the plumbing still works and there’s electricity; the generator back there runs on gas, I filled it up. The signal here isn’t too bad.” In case they wanted to call for help, she thought. In case they wanted to write a review of the trip: shitty shack, zero stars. She wanted to tell them that this wasn’t what she had planned. When she’d invited them here, it was with the idea that they’d join her in Saol Eile; it was with the idea that she was wanted. In hindsight, it was incredibly idiotic to invite a human and a vampire to a banshee community (they would have liked Anita) but hindsight was worth nothing to her now.
It would have been easy to tell them to go, take their bags to Dublin and find a way to have a good trip. She wanted to do it; her mouth opened and her tongue formed the words but nothing but her shallow breathing escaped. The list Putrecia had given her was long and despite how ridiculous fae court systems were, she couldn’t represent herself: she needed a lawyer and character witnesses. Siobhan needed them, her acquaintances (Metzli could be called a friend, Siobhan had already allowed that). She wrung her hands. “I know this is not—I know I didn’t explain much—I know…” She swallowed. “I need your help,” Siobhan said, “I didn’t invite you here to help me, I promise. I invited you here to show you my home, but my home is—I need your help.” She paced from one end of the shack to the other. “This is serious. There’s going to be a trial—I’m on trial—in the…” She waved her hands around, creating shapes that meant nothing. “...the community that I grew up in. It’s a little—it’s very—it has its own rules and I’m going to court and I need help. I need your help, I need…” Siobhan stopped pacing, suddenly remembering the bare minimum of hospitality. “H-how was the flight? Did you eat peanuts? They…have those sometimes, right?”
—
The cab driver had managed to take the three travelers from the airport to the edge of a long path that led down to a distinctly Irish-looking cottage. The trip down the path, however, would have to be made on foot. After hauling her suitcases out of the trunk, Anita spotted Siobhan down near the cottage. There was slightly overgrown greenery all around them, trees that peaked out from behind the roof, and rolling hills in the distance. Despite how distinctly Irish the landscape around them seemed there were parts of it all, and particularly the weather, that reminded her of Maine.
As she made the journey down the path Anita was surprised by how reserved Siobhan seemed. Even once they made it to the cottage, there was something distinctly out of the ordinary about her disposition. “Plumbing, electricity, and a signal - sounds like all the basic necessities accounted for,” she said with a grin, trying to set a positive tone. “I’d personally be fine without a signal, in all honesty.” She was admittedly very much looking forward to being out here in all of this nature - maybe she’d even do Ireland a favor and give it its first snake in a few centuries.
After setting her bags down near the front door, Anita looked over at Metzli trying to gauge how they were doing with an unspoken check in. Her attention quickly turned back to Siobahn, however, who was suddenly asking them for help. It was a lot to take in, that she was on trial and that this rag-tag group was who she was seeking help from. “Uh… no, they had those tiny pretzels instead.” Anita responded, still working out how to respond to the rest of the information that Siobhan had relayed. “But, sorry, what’s going on? Is this a criminal trial? Do you need us for, like, moral support or…” she trailed off, partly wondering if any of the outfits she had packed would be court appropriate.
__
It was a good thing Metzli didn’t need to sleep. Not even the medicine Anita had given them any sort of respite from the climbing anxiety of such an experience. For whatever reason, they felt it imperative to keep watch on their friends in the metallic machine flying through the sky. Ensure that if anything were to go wrong, they could move and protect. It was what Metzli felt they were meant to do now, and they didn’t mind that responsibility. That was what love was about. That was why they got on such a strange contraption in the first place to loosen the taut tether that connected Metzli and Siobhan. It was with great relief (and a broken arm rest) that they had landed with very few complications, finally reaching the path that led to their loved one.
And when they laid eyes on her in the distance, a breathless, “Siobhan…!” tumbling past their lips as the tension finally released. Without another word, Metzli all but bolted into a sprint. Their backpack bounced against their back and their carry-on tossed about on their side, but in a matter of seconds (thanks to their long legs and not their unnatural speed), Metzli arrived in front of Siobhan’s cottage with a wide-eyed but incredibly small smile. They didn’t say much more, too overstimulated by the course of events, but they managed to catch everything Siobhan said. Even the way her voice was drowning in uncertainty and her body behaved similarly to their last visit together. It gave Metzli pause, and they almost missed Anita and Xóchitl arriving next to them and entering the cottage as they grew lost in their mind. They hesitated to step past the threshold for a beat before their concern won out.
“Siobhan—”
Clang!
Metzli’s head hit a hanging pan, and they blinked with surprise before shaking it away. They hunched further to accommodate for the hanging kitchen supplies, grumbling something about their confusion and how Leila would have prospered in that small environment. “What is this trial? What do we—” Clink! That time, Metzli’s head hit a metal ladle, and they took a deep breath to keep their irritation from boiling over. Focus. A beat, and they calmed, wringing their fingers together as they searched for a chair and watched out for more hanging utensils while they spoke.
“What do we do here and why do you have everything hanging in here?”
—
The flight had been good, all things considered. Not that there was terribly much to consider, not really, but she had been left with the slightest of knots in her stomach, which was terribly unlike her, but Xóchitl figured the more she focused on the knot, the tighter it would become, and she didn’t want that, and so she chose not to focus. Siobhan had wanted her to come to Ireland for some reason, even though the two of them weren’t friends (right? Except Xóchitl wouldn’t fly to Ireland for just anyone, just someone who she’d hooked up with a few times. Still. It wasn’t productive to focus in on that right now.
Siobhan’s family’s house was pretty. Even though it was way more in the country than Xóchitl had first imagined, but being away from a city could be good. Not that she’d been in any sort of real city in forever, but this was even more country than the country-est parts of Wicked’s Rest. “I could use having no signal, honestly. Or minimal signal.” She’d told Mateo she was going away and had taken time off of work, and it might do her some sort of good to take a no-internet retreat.
“Are you okay?” She said, arriving half-breathless with Anita to the home, only in time to see Metzli hit themselves with a pan. “Thank you for having us,” she gave a small nod to Siobhan, “yeah, they had pretzels, and they were just okay. The wine was good though.” It took her a beat to process Siobhan’s words, and Anita’s reaction. “You’re on trial?” Xóchitl’s expression fell into one of concern. “I – uh. Do you need me to declare you mentally sound? Or – why – are you okay?” Which seemed like a stupid sort of question, because the answer was obviously no, even if Siobhan faked things. “What – can I do?”
—
The tiny pretzels were superior to peanuts, Siobhan could admit that. It felt like one of those universal facts: worms are beautiful, murder is fun, the tiny pretzels on airplanes are better than the peanuts (which haven’t been served on planes for a while, she remembered). Though, not that she would really know. Her middle seat economy class flight had been so dreadful, all she could remember was Baby’s Day Out in nightmarish flashes. And, anyway, none of this was the point. “It—watch the pans!” But it was too late, the clangs of Metzli’s skull rang out around them, sending more silverfish out of the old bookcase. People walking into them was part of the reason her great-great-grandmother had decided to hang everything up. She was so short, she passed under everything; back when the pans and ladles still had their color, only the tips of her wild red hair reached them. “My great-great…” Siobhan glanced at Xóchitl, who may have suspected she was weird but didn’t understand the scope of her non-humanness. “...grandmother,” she continued, “liked to keep things where she could grab them. That’s why the shelves are all…” Siobhan gestured at the low-hanging shelves. This also wasn’t the point.
Siobhan had expected protests. She thought Anita would turn around, Xóchitl would huff, Metzli would…probably stay because they were nice but that also, also, wasn’t the point. The point was that these people were here and they were willing to help and Siobhan didn’t know what to do about that. “I…no, not a criminal trial, per se. And no, I don’t need to be declared mentally sound. I don’t think—No, I know that they don’t exactly believe in…psychology.” Logic wouldn’t be winning her case. The list Putrecia gave her was burning a hole in her pocket. “It’s a…” How to describe it? What to call it? “...character trial. To see if I’m worthy enough to reenter the community.” But that didn’t make it sound right; that made it sound worse than it was. They were missing the nuance, she reasoned. And just in case their faces betrayed any disgust, Siobhan turned away from them.
“I think…Anita, if you’d like to…If you could…” Why was the disapproval of these people—these inferior beings—suddenly so terrifying? It was the banshees in Saol Eile she should have been scared of. The thought of facing another one of Putrecia’s scowls crushed her insides to a paste but the idea that Anita could say no, set the rest of her body ablaze. Forty-two years away from her community had twisted her up into the wrong shape; she needed to go back. When Siobhan finally met the gazes of her fr—acquaintances, it was with a rare blush and even more rare watery eyes. If they asked, it was allergies. “Would you be my lawyer, Anita? Would you represent me? You don’t have to do anything, really. But I just need…” Siobhan’s mouth was suddenly dry. “It has to be you because you’re…” Not human. Not an affront against Death and Fate. “...sexy.”
She shook her head, looking between Xóchitl and Metzli. “If you two could…act as character witnesses. It’s unlikely you’ll be called to talk.” Most of the trial was decided at random—no, sorry, by Fate. “But if you are…if you’re needed…just in case…” Who else in Saol Eile would have a good word to say about her? Any advantage was worth it. “And Xóchitl, I don’t accept that thank you. Don’t thank me for this; I should be thanking all of you. I should…” And that was it, whatever thin shred of pride held Siobhan’s tears back snapped. She sniffled, wiping at her red cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m okay. Or, I will be okay, once the trial is over.” She paused, closing her eyes. “If you want to leave, you can; I suppose I’m offering a choice here. I just hope that…” She couldn’t say it.
—
It was nice to see that the other two visitors seemed as unaware of what was happening as Anita did. What was less nice to see was Siobhan on the precipice of some sort of emotional breaking point. Only recently had Anita learned how to help Metzli with emotional moments, and even then her help was really quite minimal. As their host began to explain the strange trial and intricacies of her unique community, Anita felt quite confident of one thing: Xóchitl was the only human around. Even not knowing all of the details about who or what Siobhan was there were parts of this story that Anita could understand. Not that she would be subject to a character trial if she tried to return to her own community, but she knew that she would be met with resistance.
In all of her interactions with her fellow professor, Anita had never seen Siobhan this … vulnerable. There was a time she would have associated such vulnerability with weakness but not anymore. A sign of immense personal growth, Anita rationalized to herself. In thinking about herself, Anita seemingly missed a small portion of what was happening because the next thing she heard was Siobhan asking her to be her lawyer. Her lips separated as an expression of surprise and slight discomfort washed over her face. But as she stood there, trying to think of ways to get out of this imposition, she felt another set of emotions come over her. It wasn’t pity, but perhaps it was sympathy?
“I mean, if that’s all the criteria you’re looking for… I guess I am the perfect candidate.” Her words felt lackluster, missing their usual playful spark of sarcasm. Something wasn’t right. Whatever Siobhan was, she wasn’t lamia but she also wasn’t a human. Emotional complexity was never something that Anita fared well with - not when it came to her own emotions and certainly not with the emotions of others. She looked towards Metzli, searching for some guidance. She then turned to Xóchitl, trying to figure out what she made of all of this. If they were willing to help out, then she would be willing, too. It didn’t seem as though they were being asked to do as much as she was, however. Even if Siobhan claimed that representing her wouldn’t require much, if she knew anything about trials from TV shows, being someone's lawyer was a lot of work.
She swallowed, hard, when the tears finally fell from Siobhan’s beautiful doe-y brown eyes. Anita longed for the days when they were just committing arson together. That was less complicated than this, she knew how to navigate those kinds of circumstances. “Don’t know much about lawyering, but if you need me to be, I’ll be your sexy lawyer, okay? Now, let’s get you a drink, mami.” It was her best attempt at offering up any comfort, even if it was quite a poor attempt.
_
Metzli’s face contorted into something like a cocktail of anger and disappointment. It had played out just as it always had for Siobhan. What she wanted dangled in front of her, just out of reach. It wasn’t fair, and she couldn’t see that. No, she wouldn’t see that. Time after time, Siobhan was promised a family and love, but only after several conditions. Each time, she was given a sliver, the inkling serving as a flint set to spark a pitiful excuse for a fire.
A small bit of hope that was enough to keep her hanging on. It always would be. At least until something or someone lit her heart ablaze from a source far more powerful. One that would grant her warmth instead of a meager, dim light that only led her towards dead ends.
No matter what they said, Siobhan was determined to believe a lie because it was far preferable than accepting the truth. She wanted to change the answer, make the story finish the way she had always been promised, but happy endings were scarce and in too high demand in their world. But if Metzli had any say, they’d pay whatever price to ensure Siobhan got the family she desperately wanted. Even if it meant they’d never see her again. Even if it meant feeding into an illusion, which was just a fancy word for a lie. Because sometimes it mattered more to give your friends what they thought they needed instead of pushing your own wishes onto them. Because hope was a wish, and Siobhan was a star with far too much pressure choking her out.
“I…” Something of a choke managed to surface to the vampire’s tongue, but they knew there wasn’t much to say. Instead, they walked carefully forward, ignoring the way a pot collided with their forehead. The sound echoed and thrummed along the inside of the metal, only ending when there was no place for the clang to bounce from. Not that Metzli paid it any mind. They were too busy wrapping their arm around Siobhan’s waist and placing their chin on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. “Will help you.” It sounded like a promise.
—
She still had no idea why Siobhan was on trial, and off in Ireland, of all places. Xóchitl wasn’t stupid, she did know that Siobhan was Irish (it was pretty sexy at the time, not that now was even sort of remotely the time to think about that.)
Xóchitl also wasn’t especially keen on how any of this was turning out, but a vacation was a vacation and so she needed to do something about that blah-blah-blah. She wasn’t very good at taking time off (and even she could manage to admit that), and Ireland was supposed to be beautiful (though very very white, so far, but maybe that was partially to do with the fact that they were straight up in the middle of nowhere). But Anita and Metzli and Siobhan were all here, and that was something special (not that she got sentimental or whatever about things), and Mackenzie probably would’ve loved this. The two of them had made so many plans to travel to so many countries together – Mackenzie would’ve loved the idea of being a travel influencer, and Xóchitl knew she would’ve gone with her anywhere.
She supposed that was something to what friendship was, and maybe that was what things meant with the other three who were here, now. They weren’t Mackenzie, and nobody ever would be, but they were here and she loved them. The thought immediately made her stomach clench tighter than she ever could’ve wished for. Which was not a response Xóchitl was looking for right now, but she’d learned far too many times that she didn’t have control over things like that.
She was just damn good at faking it.
“Let’s drink, and we’ll figure things out. We’re here for you, Siobhan. We’re not letting anything happen to you.” If she said it like it was impossible, then maybe it would be.
—
The amount of times Siobhan had ever felt loved—that dammed word again—she could count on two fingers. It wasn’t the amount of times that she knew she was cared for: her mother cared for her, she supposed; her grandmother and her great-grandmother; the other banshees did as well, insofar as any banshee would care for another. It wasn’t care in the saccharine sense—not the overly familiar way that the humans used it—it was survival. It was the way one bird would know not to peck another death. The banshees cared for her proved by the fact they hadn’t pecked her to a pulp and offered a second chance at all—yes, she was cared for. But loved?
Was it love that bloomed with warmth inside her chest? That made her bite the inside of her cheek to stop a smile? That spurred a wet, bubbling laugh from her dry throat? Siobhan had two finger’s worth of experience on love; what did she know? She could recognize happiness well enough and she was happy Anita was here, and that Anita had agreed, and that she suggested a drink—and yes, she wanted one and she was so thankful Anita understood well enough to offer an escape from her pathetic display of emotion. Did Anita know how smart she was? How astute? How, despite her own self-proclaimed lack of care, she could so delicately thread any situation offered to her? Of course she did, she was Anita—there couldn’t have been a compliment in existence that she hadn’t heard before. Was that love that she felt then for her fr–co-worker?
And if there were no original words to capture Anita, there was less Siobhan could offer to Metzli. She knew they didn’t know how remarkable they were; she had tried to explain it before, but like everything else about her, it was too over-wrought. Metzli was the only person she could call a friend, and the only person she had said she loved—and the only person who made her feel like she understood the word, just a little. Though, she hoped Metzli forgot she said it—and anyway it was over the internet so did it count?—if only so she might be offered the chance to say it again, and say it better. Metzli’s weight around her felt like love, she was so sure of it, but she couldn’t assign any words. Instead, she leaned into them and lightly wrapped one arm around them too, mindful of their discomfort with physical touch—and that felt like care, that felt like love. Was this it? Was she loved? Was she cared for?
Finally, her gaze settled on Xóchitl, who she expected would’ve run at the first spark of strangeness. Yet, she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t; Xóchitl had been ruining her expectations since they first met. So much of her was so human: all of her grief, her fears, her memories and tastes. But, it was in that humanness that there existed a swirling cosmos of identity that formed her. It was that humanness that Siobhan liked in her and it was that humanness that tightened in her throat. Did fear exist on the other side of love? Was it that she cared for Xóchitl that she worried this place would test her humanity? Was it love for her fr—woman that she slept with one time? It was, at least, gratitude for her presence and compassion.
She was nothing like a banshee, soft and vulnerable like a creature showing its stomach, but whatever she felt now, it carried into her an inch of hope—just enough to convince her that everything would be okay. Did love exist here? Between them? Maybe just enough, maybe just an inch.
“Now, would it be inappropriate if I assume you all want Mezcal? Because I did go through the trouble of buying up all the nice imports for us. Metzli, there’s wine from the, uh, wine butcher, for you.”
Anything for her friends.
#i want everyone to know trying to make that made my computer chug so hard#i also want everyone to know that i love these goobs so much#im soft#inch of hope#writing#s2#c: metzli#c: anita#c: xóchitl
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Alternate Reality || Solo
In an alternate reality Declan’s hand was in hers. Nora had told him to close her eyes, his light laughter echoed in the abandoned chapel above the crypt. She would walk backwards, making sure he didn’t trip down the stairs. She’d settle him at the bottom, and memorize his face as he took his first look at their new home. The sign would say Welcome Home Declan and Nora. The birthday gifts would be opened together, because what was her was his and his was hers and this was theirs. They’d curl together on their cot, she’d put names to faces as they looked at the photos taped to the wall next to her pillow. Blood wouldn’t pool beneath them.
In an alternate reality Nora hadn’t gone to Ireland. The gifts at the steps had been opened on her birthday. She wouldn’t have gotten in a fight with Emilio about Regan’s choice, then ultimately pick at him so he wouldn’t think twice when she wasn’t around the next day. She’d have spent her birthday playing Fortnite Festival with Van, and forced her to play the same Olivia Rodrigo song over and over again until Nora managed to get a good score. She’d shown up at Teddy’s for dinner. Wynne and Emilio were at the table, Teddy would come through the door with the biggest display of ham. The night passed by in merriment, a game of trick Emilio into eating was played. Teddy hugged her goodnight. Wynne clasped her hands. Emilio patted her arm. She was happy with her family. She would never know that in Ireland Regan was crossing paths with Declan. The world would never explode into colors she’d never known existed. She’d remain who she was. Now ham reminded her of hamstring, and hamstring was disgusting.
In an alternate reality Declan was born to a family that loved him. He was raised with humans, among humans, as a human. He never knew a life where he was born to die for someone else. Instead he was valued for who he was. A shadow didn’t follow him around in life, waiting for the day a scream replaced his life. In that reality fate chose to cross their paths. He saw the monster before him and he felt fear. Without living in fear his whole life, he never learned about the emotion. It was always what waited in the darkness, the risk of heights and the stress of poor performance. Without fear cradling his whole life, he was unable to look at Nora with the same fearless love he’d held by the waterfall.
In an alternate reality Nora wasn’t sitting alone in the dark crypt. The sign welcoming her home hadn’t sent an arrow into her heart, and the presents neatly piled at the stairs hadn’t brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t cut her finger on the paper while opening them. The cut hadn’t distracted her for hours as she watched drops of blood slip from the slash, a weak imitation of the cut across Declan’s throat. A shadow didn’t remind her how worthless and undeserving she was.
In the alternate reality there were no cups from Ariadne. An invitation to a picnic. A want to know her more. A carved bear from Metzli. Osito, the name she’d loved. A hope for a good birthday, and many more. A picture from Van. A message of good things to come. A hope that she was having fun. Fuck. She had been having fun in Ireland until reality snuck in and slit fun’s throat. In that alternate reality there wasn’t a bear from Emilio. A note that he was sorry. A note that he wanted her to come by. A note that told her he’d leave if he had to, as long as she had a good birthday.
In that alternate reality she read Regan’s note the day of her birthday, and after some brief annoyance, she let it go. She accepted the words. “If you’re reading this, then I am already in Ireland. I’m sorry I did not tell you when I was leaving. It was for the best. Your tenacity might have gotten you killed. Besides, this town needs you. It is full of people to extort, and help, if you are so inclined, which I know you to be. You’re a strange one, you know. I do not think that’s bad. I used to. Now I’m less certain. I will even suggest that you are correct not to listen to anyone, including Emilio.”
In that alternate reality Nora was still the girl that needed to hear those words. And she would have listened to them despite the last line. And Declan would be alive. People in the town would be extorted. Maybe she’d have found one person she was capable of saving. Every now and then she’d think of Regan, the screams they shared, and fun they’d had. She’d think ‘I hope Regan is doing okay.’ But the thought would pass and life would go on, and their fates weren’t so intricately woven together that she considered Regan to be family and hated her for it. In that alternate reality she wasn’t crying in the dark over a pile of presents and loathing herself for every choice she’d ever made.
But this wasn’t an alternate reality. This was the path she’d chosen. The consequences of her actions. The mistakes she’d made. The reality of it all. And that was too much. So Eleanor “Nora” Pine did what she always did. She walked away.
#solo#alternate reality#suicidal ideation tw#hello I know it’s another sad Nora solo I’m sorry#it’s just there are story elements that need to be told and she’s not verbal enough to do it with someone else#this is my last one#I tried to keep these short#tldr; Nora has big emotions and walks away from wickeds rest because she has a run away problem#that’s it!#thank you for everyone who read this arc
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Welcome to our WRW! We do these weekly to provide plot drops, challenges, and highlight starters. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points. Let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!
The giant leg that erupted from the ground is like nothing anyone has ever seen before. Is it a coincidence that Wicked’s Rest is full of bad omens around the same time it showed up? Check out our current plot of the week of Season 2 for ways to interact!
Ring in the Spring! There’s a town picnic, a huge caterpillar infestation, and so much more in our seasonal event.
The RP is celebrating its 1 year anniversary! Check out our event post here.
Now that it's getting warmer out, Sea Breeze Boathouse has a discount on boat rentals! Some of their boats had a hard winter and are in need of some repair, though... and they don't realize it.
Rumors are circulating Nightfall Grove that something dark and liquid-y slithered out of the Wishing Well and walked into town, vaguely shaped like a person. Probably bad?
The cookie-eating culprits have been found. And there are so, so many of them right now.
Complete enough challenges in a row and claim a prize. You can read more about how they work and what prizes are available here. Bonus challenges, when given, may be more involved and won’t break your streak if not met.
This week’s challenge:
Initiate 3 IC dash convos (in whichever way you’d like)
We also have a bonus challenge this week:
Make a meme
Marcus would like to pay his respects to pawnshop Mike... even though the shrimp might be better at bargaining
Daiyu wonders how do you cope with being thirty?
Charlie wants to know who's thieving his cookies.
Mercy is confused by Emojis and wants to free them.
Metzli wonders why an island has no giraffes.
Lelia is horrified by the lack of baked goods.
Elias hates the whole island of Ireland, accept for Shaemus.
Someone stole Tegan's cookies :/
Mack wonders if anyone has any good recs.
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Lunar Goddesses
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
Aega
(Greek)
A beautiful moon deity. Her mother Gaia, the ancient earth Goddess, hid her in a cave during a Titan attack on the Olympic deities to prevent her from being taken away.
Aine
(Celtic)
Goddess of love, growth, cattle and light. The name of this Celtic Goddess means "bright" as she lights up the dark. Celebrations to this Goddess were held on Midsummer night
Anahita
(Persian)
A river Goddess who was also Goddess of Venus and the moon. Her name means "pure" Or immaculate one" as she represented the cleansing and fertilizing flow of the cosmos.
Andromeda
(Greek)
Although today she is linked with the stars many scholars believe that Andromeda was a pre-Hellenic moon deity.
Anunit
(Babylonian)
Goddess of the moon and battle. She was also associated with the evening star and later became known as Ishtar.
Arianrhod
(Celtic)
Goddess of the moon and stars, her name means "silver- wheel" the wheel of the year and the web of fate.
Artemis
(Greek)
The Greek Goddess of the hunt, nature and birth. This maiden Goddess is symbolized by the crescent moon.
Arawa
(African)
Lunar Goddess of the Suk and Pokot tribes of Kenya and Uganda. Her parents were the creator God Tororut and his consort Seta.
Athenesic
(Native North American)
A moon Goddess of several north central Native American tribes,
Auchimalgen
(South American)
This moon Goddess was a Deity of divination and a protectress from evil spirits.
Bendis
(Greek)
Bendis was the consort of the sun God Sabazius. Her cult flourished in Athens during the fifth century BCE.
Britomartis
(Crete)
In addition to her lunar attributes she was also the patron Goddess of Cretan sailors.
Candi
(Indian)
The female counterpart to Chandra, ancient Hindu lord of the Moon. The two were said to take turns: one month the Candi would become the moon and the next Chandra fulfill the role.
Cerridwen
(Celtic)
This crone, Goddess is most famous for her cauldron of wisdom. She was the mother of the great bard Taliesin, and is deeply linked to the image of the waning moon.
Chang- O
(Chinese)
The Chinese Goddess who lived on the moon She is celebrated to this day on full moon night of the 8th lunar month.
Coyolxauhqui
(Aztec)
Aztec moon Goddess, her name means "Golden Bells." She was the daughter of the Earth goddess, Coatlicue and the sister of the Sun god, Huitzilopochtli.
Dae-Soon
(Korean)
Lunar Goddess.
Diana
(Roman)
Diana was the Goddess of the hunt and wild animals. She later took over from Luna as the Roman Goddess of the moon, responsible for fertility and childbirth.
Gnatoo
(Japanese)
One of twelve Buddhist deities called the Jiu No O, adopted from Hindu mythology.
Gwaten
(Hindu)
She is derived from the Hindu God Soma, and is portrayed as a woman holding in her right hand, a disk symbolizing the Moon.
Epona
(Roman/Celtic)
This horse Goddess was associated with the night and dreams. In western Ireland,legends still abound of hearing the hoof-beats of her horse as she rides west to escape the rays of the rising sun. She was also a Goddess of magic, fertility and feminine power.
Hanwi
(Native North American)
Goddess of the Oglala Sioux, she once lived with the sun God Wi. Due to a transgression, she was forced by him to become a creature of the night.
Hekate
(Greek)
A crone Moon Goddess, deeply associated with the waning and dark moons. She is depicted as haunting crossroads with her two large hounds, and carrying a torch, symbolic of her great wisdom.
Hina Hine
(Polynesian)
This Hawaiian Goddesses name means 'woman who works the moon'. In her myths it is said that she grew tired of working for her brother and fled to the moon to live in peace.
Hina-Ika
("lady of the fish")
Once again we see the link between the lunar Goddess to the tides.
Huitaco
(South American)
This Colombian Goddess was a protectress of women as well as a deity of pleasure and happiness who was always battling with her male counterpart Bochica, a God of hard work and sorrow.
Ishtar
(Babylonian)
Some myths say she is the daughter of the moon, others the mother.
Isis
(Egyptian)
This powerful and widely worshipped Goddess was not only a moon deity, but a Goddess of the sun as well.
Ix Chel
(Mayan)
A Central American moon Goddess and the lover of the sun. Poisonous snakes were her totem animal. She was also Goddess of childbirth.
Izanami
(Japanese)
This Goddess controlled the tides, fishing and all destructive sea phenomena.
Jezanna
(Central African)
Goddess of the moon and healing.
Juna
(Roman)
A Goddess of the new moon. She was worshipped mainly by women as she was the Goddess of marriage, pregnancy and childbirth. Her Greek equivalent was Hera.
Jyotsna
(Indian)
A Hindu Goddess of twilight and the autumn moons.
Komorkis
(Native North American)
The Blackfoot tribe celebrated her as the Goddess of the moon.
Kuan Yin
(Chinese)
A Buddhist Goddess. Modern feminist Pagans believe she far pre-dates Buddhist origins. She was a Goddess of the moon, compassion, and healing,
Lasya
(Tibetan)
Goddess of the moon and beauty who carried a mirror.
Lucina
(Roman)
Goddess of light with both solar and lunar attributes. She was Christianised as St. Lucia, a saint still honoured at Yule in many parts of Europe.
Luna
(Roman)
An ancient moon Goddess, the namesake for the Latin word luna meaning 'moon'. Her name also forms the root of the English words 'lunar' and 'lunatic'.
Mama Quilla
(Inkan)
As the Goddess of the moon she was the protectress of married women. A large temple to her was erected at the Inkan capitol of Cuzco. She was associated with the metal silver. Eclipses were said to occur when she was eaten and the regurgitated by the Jaguar Woman.
Mawu
(African)
She ruled the sky with her twin bother, the sun God Lisa. To her people she symbolized both wisdom and knowledge.
Metzli
(Aztec)
In Aztec mythology mother moon leapt into a blazing fire and gave birth to the sun and the sky.
Rhiannon
(Celtic)
A Goddess of fertility, the moon, night, and death. Her name means 'night queen'. She is also known as Rigantona.
Sadarnuna
(Sumerian)
Goddess of the new moon.
Sarpandit
(Sumerian)
Goddess of moonrise. This pregnant Goddess's name means "silver shining" referring to the reflective quality of the moon.
Sefkhet
(Egyptian)
According to some myths this lunar Goddess was the wife of Thoth. She was also the deity of time, the stars, and architecture.
Selene
(Greek)
A mother Goddess linked to the full moon. She is widely worshipped by Pagans today.
Sina
(Polynesian)
This moon Goddess was the sister of the sun God Maui. She was sometimes called Ina.
Teczistecatl
(Aztec)
A Goddess of sex, symbolised by the four phases of the moon: dark, waxing, full, and waning.
Trivia
(Roman)
She is the equivalent Goddess to Selene in Roman mythology.
Xochhiquetzal
(Aztec)
This magical moon Goddess was the deity of flowers, spring, sex, love, and marriage. She was the wife of storm God Tlaloc. She is also the patroness of artisans, prostitutes, pregnant women and birth.
Yemanja
(Native South American)
She was the Brazilian Goddess of the oceans symbolized by a waxing crescent moon. Yemanja was also considered to represent the essence of motherhood and a protector of children.
Yolkai Estsan
(Native North American)
A Navajo moon deity fashioned from an abalone shell by her sister Yolkai, the Goddess of the sky. She was the Navaho Goddess of the earth and the seasons, and is also known as White Shell Woman.
Zirna
(Etruscan)
A Goddess of the waxing moon. She is always depicted with a half-moon hanging from her neck, indicating that she was probably honored at the beginning of the second quarter phase of the moon.
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
Sources : http://aminoapps.com/p/3ncaq4
#Wicca#Wiccan#Witch#Witchy#Witchblr#Witchcraft#Pagan#Paganism#Spiritual#Spirituality#Goddess#Goddesses#Luna#Lunar#Moon#Moon Goddess#Lunar goddess#Space#Deities#Deity
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[pm] Am going to Ireland to attend a ceremony.
Can you take care of Fluffy?
I have left meals for you in the fridge at the house. There are snacks as well. And your allowance is in the counter.
[pm] Do you have to Why is What is it with Ireland? Why is everyone sooo obsessed with You could have asked if I wanted to come! You could have been like, 'Hey, Cass, do you want to come to Ireland?' And I don't, I don't want to go to Ireland, but no one even asked and it's Am I not worth asking? Am I not What do I have to do to be good enough for
[user sulks. she's feeling abandonded, she's feeling looked over, she's got a grudge against ireland. she asks makaio if he's been, and he says she hasn't. she asks him if he'd want to go, and he says would you? it's not the same as being asked, unprompted, to go to ireland, but she pretends it is. it makes her feel better.]
Okay.
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@ohwynne from here:
[pm] Do you want to watch a movie soon? Or something else. I haven't gone to see the leg. I'm just sleeping a lot. Is the leg alive? How have you been?
[pm] Yeah. We can watch a movie. What movie do you want to watch?
Are you [...] okay? Usually when people sleep a lot, it's bad. I don't think the leg is alive, but I don't know for sure. I don't know how to, like, check the pulse on a giant leg that sticks out of the ground. Grey's Anatomy didn't say.
Everyone went to Ireland. You know? You left, and Nora left, and Metzli left, and nobody even told me until it was already decided or until they were already gone, and that's Like, was I just not worth telling? Nobody could have given a little 'hey Cass, I'm planning a trip to Ireland' moment? Or 'hey, Cass, do you want to come to Ireland?' I don't want to go, but someone could have just asked me. Nobody ever asks
[user takes a moment. she's upset. her father notices. he puts a hand on her shoulder, and she feels better. she leans into him. these days, he feels more and more like the only steady thing.]
I'm good. Everything here has been normal.
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TIMING: current
PARTIES: @amonstrousdream & @magmahearts
LOCATION: the magmacave
SUMMARY: leila comes to check up on cass, but doesn't find her as she's expecting her to be.
CONTENT WARNINGS: implications of emotional manipulation.
She’d come home with her chest heaving and her hands still gripped tightly into fists. She could still feel that hunter’s skin melting against the rocky surface of hers, could still hear him screaming and feel him thrashing. Worse still, that feeling of satisfaction hadn’t left her, was still lingering in the corner of her chest where guilt should live. She’d almost killed him. She’d wanted to kill him. If Ariadne hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have stopped. But Ariadne had been there, had seen the whole thing, and what must she think of Cass now? How terrified must she be? Cass had hurt someone, had left Ariadne still bleeding, had run.
She’d been a mess as she reentered the cave. It took her dad ages to calm her down, gripping her chin in his hand and assuring her that she was fine, that it was okay. She hadn’t done anything wrong, he told her. She did a good job. But she could tell that he thought she should have finished what she’d started, even if he didn’t say it. And she wasn’t sure how to feel about that, either. So instead of trying to unpack it, she accepted the comfort he offered her. She lay in the cave and let him fuss over her like she was a child, still, like she was sick and he was parenting her the way no one ever really had. And she felt a little better, even if she still didn’t feel good.
He woke her with a gentle nudge, but she shot up anyway, heart pounding. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I think someone is outside.”
Immediately, more panic gripped at her throat. “What?”
“There was a woman calling for you.”
Cass wondered who it might be. Ariadne probably wasn’t in much shape to make the trek to the cave. Could it be Anita, on Metzli’s behalf? No, that wasn’t right. Wasn’t she in Ireland? (Wasn’t everyone?) Someone else, then? Cass hesitated. Her father reached a hand out, resting it on her shoulder. “I can make them leave,” he offered, “or you can speak to them. But don’t let them tell you you were wrong. You did well, Cassidy. You did what you were meant to do. You shouldn’t feel badly for that.”
Carefully, Cass nodded. Her father still wasn’t ready to meet anyone, but he was offering to make someone go for her. Wasn’t that what love was? She felt warm. “I can talk to them,” she said. “You can go hide in the back, if you want. I’ll be okay.” He nodded, disappearing into the shadows. And, steeling herself, Cass headed to the front of the cave.
Leila should have been her first guess, really. If she weren’t so jumpy and anxious, she probably would have been. She didn’t offer the woman a smile as she approached. Her arms were crossed uncertainly over her chest, her brow furrowed. One look at the mare was really all it took to know. “Ariadne told you,” she said flatly, worrying her lip between her teeth.
—
There was a pit in Leila’s stomach, and it would not go away.
She wasn’t certain when the sensation had started, nor could she remember when she had noticed it. Things in her life had grown rather peaceful. Simple, at least where it had to do with the people she cared for. The events of the autumn and early winter had melted away with the snow, and for a time, so too did the constant worrying. But the feeling was back. Leila had tried to dismiss it. But side effect of living too long was, perhaps, that you knew no peace seemed to last all that long.
It was the texts from Ariadne that gave the unplaced dread a name. Something was up with Cass. Different, wrong, not quite as it was. She hadn’t gathered as many details on the situation as she perhaps should have. Instead, Leila had dropped everything and taken the walk to the caves to find the girl. Every step sent her long-stilled heart sinking a little lower in her chest. It wasn’t until she was stopped by a man she did not recognize that her worry threatened to swallow her up whole. Who was standing guard at the cave? Who blocked the path, arms crossed, eyeing her up like she was a problem they had to deal with? Who was it that seemed to be interrogating her as to her presence there?
The man disappeared into the dark of the cave. Leila stood at the mouth of the cave, fingers tangled up, nails biting into the palms of her hands, waiting for the little ember to appear. After what felt like an eternity, the shadows gave way to the girl who emerged… who kept her distance. A momentary wash of relief flooded through the mare. Alive, whole, safe. But not alright. Not alright. Arms folded tight across her chest, brow furrowed, a lip worried between teeth.
“She told me a little…” The words tasted like some strange admission of guilt on her tongue. “But regardless of what she said, I wanted to make sure you were alright…”
__
She couldn’t decide if it felt like a betrayal or not, Ariadne telling Leila what had happened. Something burned in her chest, though she didn’t have the right words to give it a name. She kept thinking of the way the hunter had smelled when her lava burned his flesh, kept remembering the thrill it had pulsed through her, kept thinking about how she wouldn’t have stopped if Ariadne hadn’t asked her to. Even now, in the privacy of her cave with Leila standing in front of her, Cass couldn’t decide if she was glad she’d been prevented from finishing the job. She knew her father was a little disappointed that she hadn’t, even if he hadn’t said as much. That burned, too. She thought of Ariadne on the ground, of Kuma in that bathroom with her wide eyes, of Debbie in the supermarket or Metzli’s sire in his crypt. They weren’t events she wanted to associate with one another, but it was getting harder and harder to pry them apart.
Standing in the mouth of the cave, she took a moment to try to decipher what Leila’s expression might mean. Something in the back of her mind — this part of herself that was so sure rejection was an inevitable thing — insisted that it could be nothing but disappointment. Leila would hide it, because of course she would. Because Leila was kind, because she knew Cass had a habit of shutting down when she felt rejected, because Cass was important to Metzli and Leila loved them. There were plenty of reasons why Leila wouldn’t say, outright, that she was upset by what Cass had done. There were plenty of reasons why Ariadne hadn’t, too. It was like Makaio told her — anyone who wasn’t fae could lie to you as easily as they could look at you. The reason for the lie never mattered quite as much as the lie itself.
“What did she say?” It sounded more like a demand than Cass had meant for it to, and she swallowed against the harshness of her own voice. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s — I didn’t do anything wrong, you know.” Metzli had killed hunters. She was sure Leila had, too. Cass could hardly be judged for just almost killing one, for wanting to do it, for regretting that she hadn’t. If anything, she thought, they should be more like her father — not worried that she’d almost killed a man, but upset that she hadn’t finished the job. She squared her shoulders, trying to look big to make up for the fact that she felt small. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I didn’t even kill him.” I just wanted to. It felt like saying too much, so she held back. “Is that all?”
—
Oh. Oh this was not good.
Cass was prone to shutting if she thought she was going to be rejected or left behind. Leila had witnessed it so many times, and every time she had tried her best to reassure her that no matter what she would not leave the girl. The mare wished she knew the names and faces of those who had hurt Cass in the past, if only to make them feel regret in a way that only a cold-sweat-inducing dream could. It was wrong of her, she was sure, but it didn’t make the feeling vanish. Cass and Ariadne were the closest thing she would ever have to daughters. She would do anything for them, anything…
This stand-off was not what she had imagined when Ariadne had reached out upset and worried. There was an anger there that Leila wasn’t sure she’d ever seen in the girl. Cass always burned, a little ember, a spark… but this was different. This was a cold fire. Her mouth hung open, about to speak the words Ariadne had told her into the open air. That there had been a hunter, that he had hurt Ariadne, and Cass had blown up as a result, burning the man almost past the point of no return. Leila couldn’t say that she blamed her. She couldn’t even say that she hadn’t done worse. The mare had done some heinous things in the name of defending the loved ones she’d found in Wicked’s Rest. She took a step forward, trying to close the strange divide between them. “I never said you did anything wrong, I said I wanted to make sure you were okay. A big difference between those two things. It’s not… easy. To go through what you both went through. It’s hard in different ways.”
Is that all? The tone mixed with the words were like a dagger straight to the chest. There was a lump in her throat, and it took all her strength to swallow it back down. She wanted to hug Cass, wrap her up in her arms and listen if she wanted to talk. Hold her like she had after they’d escaped the hellhound. Would she pull away now? Had everything changed yet again? “I… um…” Words were choking her. Leila felt like she was walking a tightrope and every word she spoke put her at risk of falling. She let her bag slide off her shoulder, fishing out a bag of cookies and a few comics she’d been meaning to give her. “I brought these- I thought we could talk… or you could talk and I could just… listen. So you wouldn’t be alone…”
But Cass wasn’t alone, was she? There was a man here with her. Some stranger who had acted as if only he had the right to be around Cass. Who had begrudgingly said he would let Cass know someone was there. She wondered if that stranger was still there, just out of her line of sight, listening to every word of the conversation. Whoever they were, something was off. Something in her gut was screaming it. Don’t trust, don’t trust…
___
A few months ago, she would have accepted this without question. She would have collapsed into Leila’s arms, would have probably cried and admitted just how afraid she’d been when that hunter sunk his blade into her best friend, when she’d been so sure she was going to lose Ariadne. Everything had seemed simpler when she could believe every word people said, but… that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? People lied. Their mouths said one thing when their hearts said nother. They left when they said they would stay, or they stayed when they wanted to go. Everyone would leave her in the end. Everyone. Hadn’t they proven it, time and time again? Leila was here now, but how long would that last? If Cass admitted that she missed the smell of burning flesh, that part of her wanted to track that man down and melt his skin from his bones, would Leila be able to look at her the same? Would anyone?
She thought of Rhett, of Chuy, of Debbie. This hunter, the one with Aria’s blood on his knife and Cass’s handprints burned into his skin, he was far from the first person Cass had ever wanted to hurt. She’d thought, before, that that part of her that wanted to hurt people was bad. She’d thought it was the kind of thing she should hide, should cover up. But why had she thought that? She remembered what her father said, remembered the timbre of his voice. Why should we care for the lives of people who want us dead? Why should she even pretend to?
“It’s easier than you might think.” There was a flatness to her tone, like a shield sitting firmly between her and Leila. She didn’t think Leila understood — how could she? She’d been hunted, too, but it felt different than what Cass went through. She couldn’t put her finger on why that was. Maybe it was the way Leila was hunted for something she’d become instead of something she’d been born. Maybe it was because Leila had had a life before she was a target, whatever that life had looked like. Or maybe it was Makaio’s voice ever-present whispering in Cass’s ear, reminding her that none of this could ever be permanent. She’d had friends over the years that were human, and she’d had friends who weren’t. She’d known undead and shifters and empaths, but how many of them had stayed? How many of them could understand what it was to feel the Earth flow through you, to feel the life in the stones beneath your feet? The only one she’d ever met who understood that was her father. Maybe he was the only one who’d ever understood her, too.
She had to make sure he stayed. Leila would leave eventually; Cass knew that. And if Leila’s departure was inevitable, she had to make sure that Makaio’s wasn’t. She had to be what he wanted her to be, even if it meant not being what Leila did. It was a difficult decision to make, but her desperation made it for her all the same.
“I already ate,” she said, glancing to the cookies. Her father had brought donuts earlier. They were stale and hard, but he’d brought them for her, and she’d eaten so many her stomach ached, even now. “You don’t — Why don’t you say what you came here to say, Leila? I know you didn’t come here for — for cookies and comics. You came here to say something, so say it.” Did Cass even need to hear it? She’d already written the ending of this conversation in her mind. Anything Leila said would translate just the same.
—
It felt like her world had just imploded.
Her ears were ringing, ringing, ringing, so much it made her want to scrunch her eyes shut. For once, the mare wished that she were the one having a nightmare. One more nightmare, that wouldn’t be so bad. It could be a hallucination, this whole dreadful scene, where Cass was staring at Leila like she had hurt her already. Like she had left. Like she was suddenly nothing. Hadn’t she promised Cass that she would never leave? Or was that some trick her too-old memory was now playing on her? Let this be a nightmare. If prayers from the undead were taken into consideration by higher powers, that would be her prayer. That this whole conversation was some trick of the mind. That she might wake up and find a Cass that wasn’t standing behind an invisible adamantine wall she had built for herself to keep people out. To keep her out.
The cookies and comics stayed held out, despite the lashing words that made her want to set them down. She was young. She was young, and probably scared out of her mind, and upset, and… Leila came up with a list of a million other excuses for the coldness aimed in her direction. Perhaps she wasn’t the person Cass wanted to see. Maybe it was Metzli- maybe Metzli could make things better, or Ariadne, or… The mare sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to keep her resolve. Ignore the ringing in her ears. Ignore the words if they were cold or sharp. Stay.
“I told you. I came here to listen-” Her pleas held the same sort of franticness of a bird desperate to flee a cage, wings battering repeatedly against metal bars. “I came here because I am worried about you. I came here because I love you, and I care, and I needed to check on you-” Her mouth felt dry. There was a constant falling feeling in her chest, and everything felt too heavy. She wasn’t saying anything right. Nothing was right. “I know how it feels to almost lose someone…” Her words came out in a wince. A blow torch had been her answer to thinking Metzli would be lost, last time. She heard the elder vampire’s screams still. And yet, she still felt justified in the relief of watching him turn to ashes. “I know how it feels to want to make people pay for hurting those you love. I didn’t want you to think you were alone. Because you aren’t, you aren’t alone Cass.”
__
It felt like she was at war with herself. Half of her wanted, so badly, to believe every word Leila said. It would be easy enough to do, wouldn’t it? But she couldn’t shake that other half, the half that remembered every single person who’d walked out on her for far less than what she’d done to that hunter. Just the look of her without her glamour had been enough to scare Kuma, who had taken her in in a way so similarly to Leila and promised never to leave in a way that had been so empty in the end. There were very few things that the parade of people who’d existed throughout Cass’s life had in common. There was, in fact, only one thread that held them all together: every single one of them walked away in the end.
So why would Leila be any different? Cass had never given her a reason to leave before, but she certainly had one now. She thought, again, of that hunter. She thought of his screams, the way they’d gotten louder and then quieter, the way she’d felt excited, in a way, when they had. She thought of Pompeii learning what lay within the mountain, thought of fire raining down and power that tasted a little too sweet. She thought of her father in the cave behind her, waiting for her to be finished here. She’d already disappointed him. She’d already let him down. Wouldn’t letting herself fall back on the childish idea that someone outside of this family could stay only add to that?
“And I told you, I’m fine. I — I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have done. The only bad thing I did was not finishing —” She cut herself off, letting her mouth snap shut so hard that her teeth gnashed together with the force of it. Her heart was pounding, and her palms felt sweaty. Her father wasn’t worried about her. He didn’t think what she’d done was something that invited concern. Why should it be? There was nothing to worry about. “I don’t need you to check on me, or worry about me. I know I’m not alone. I have…” She trailed off, mouth snapping shut again. No. Makaio could reveal himself in his own time. Cass had let him down enough; she wouldn’t add to it. “I know I’m not alone. I don’t need you to remind me of that.”
—
She’d never seen a wildfire in person, nor watched a volcano erupt, but Leila had to imagine the anger that seemed to be threatening to swallow Cass whole was akin to the sparking, rageful heat the two natural events conjured. Cass was both the fire and the kindling. The mare feared not for the heat of the fire that seared every word, but for what would happen when the girl’s rage had run its course. What would happen when the fire cooled away, when there was nothing but ash?
“I know you don’t need me to, ma braise.” She spoke slowly, carefully. This was no time to be brash with her words. It already felt as though she were screaming into a void that would never listen. “I wanted to check on you. I needed…. You… you are my family, Cass. I choose you. No matter what. Please tell me you know that,” Despite her best efforts, there was despair hidden in those words. A side effect of being alone for as long as she had: Leila gave her love so freely and indiscriminately, but she always forgot that there was hurt that came when the ones she chose to love wrenched away. And there was Cass, sweet, bold, passionate, wonderful Cass, putting worlds of distance between them. A wall of fire, impenetrable.
“You are- you are not a bad person for being angry or for wanting to protect your friends. You aren’t wrong for what you did- It’s hard, living like we do-”
__
Leila said they were family, and all Cass could think of was the man in the cave behind her. She’d never known what family looked like before she’d come home to find him sitting among the stones. She’d thought she had, had convinced herself of it, but she was wrong, wasn’t she? Family was made up of people who looked like you did. She could trace her own features on her father’s face, could see herself reflected in the rocky texture of his skin and the magma burning in his veins. She loved Leila. She loved Metzli, she loved Anita and Ariadne and Van — but wasn’t it her father’s blood that ran through her? She was more like him than she could ever be like any of them, no matter how hard she tried. And like gravitated towards like, didn’t it? Ariadne and Leila shared a bond she couldn’t understand, had both had the same experience that left them the way they were. Leila and Metzli shared unbeating hearts that yearned only for each other. Anita and Metzli had a history Cass couldn’t compete with. She didn’t think she was anyone’s first choice, even if she liked to believe she might be someone’s second.
But Makaio would choose her first, wouldn’t he? Because they were family, because they shared a bond in blood. Wouldn’t it be fair, then, to choose him first, too? Wouldn’t it be the safe option? She’d disappointed him when she’d left that hunter alive, but she could do better. She could make sure he was proud, make sure he stayed that way. If she earned his love fair and square, it wouldn’t have to be a fragile thing. It wouldn’t be something she was so afraid of losing. He wouldn’t leave if she gave him a reason to stay.
Could she say the same of Leila? The mare spoke, and something ached in Cass’s chest. “I know I’m not bad for that. That’s — That’s what I’m saying. I’m already saying I’m not bad, so why are you…” She trailed off, mouth dry. Was Leila’s reassurance only there because she believed the opposite? Who was Leila trying to convince of Cass’s ‘goodness,’ here? Cass had already said that she was fine, that she’d done nothing wrong, that she was justified. So… was Leila trying to convince herself of it? Did she believe the opposite of what she was saying?
Regardless of its accuracy, that perception of rejection burned in the oread’s chest. She swallowed, her throat feeling tight. “You know what, Leila? I — I’m good here. You don’t have to stick around.” The words tasted like ash, but Cass was a volcano. Wasn’t a little ash to be expected after any eruption?
—
It was as if every good moment the two had ever had was going up in smoke. Moment after moment erased in the girl’s mind by the flames of whatever pain burned through her. Nothing Leila said was quite right, not quite good enough. At their sounding, the oread seemed to pull further and further away in herself. She hadn’t expected the conversation to turn like this, so quickly and so viciously.
The girl’s final words landed like a swift strike to the gut. Her lungs ached despite the fact that they did not need to draw air. Her eyes burned with worthless, shimmering tears, threatening to cut across her face like falling stars. I’m good here, you don’t have to stick around. Cass didn’t need to say it flat out. The context clues pointed clearly to one answer: she wanted Leila to leave. The mare and her clumsy words of attempted comfort were not needed or wanted. And what could she do? She remembered Cass had told her not so long ago that she was like a Makuahine, a mother. But there was no affection in the girl’s eyes.
Her mouth hung open with words she could not force to leave her throat. A tear streaked down her cheek. “Okay… okay.” She set the cookies and the comics down on a nearby rock, a final gesture of love that could be made without words. “I’m sorry… I will give you space if that’s what you want… but I need you to know this, and listen to me when I tell you that no matter what, I am here for you. If you need me or want me, you know where to find me…” Leila’s heart felt as if it was fracturing apart piece by piece with every word, with every moment that Cass looked at her like that. Even the last three words she spoke came out broken.
“I love you..”
___
Everything felt so twisted in her mind now, and she wasn’t sure when it had started. Things hadn’t exactly been clear, even before the hunter hurt Aria, had they? There’d been this… shadow of confusion hanging over her for the last month or so, this quiet uncertainty. It was a natural thing, she thought; her father’s arrival had completely shifted her worldview, made her go from someone who understood she’d been abandoned by everyone who was supposed to want her to someone who knew that she’d had a parent out there searching for her all this time. And he was strong, and he was proud, and he was wary. He’d been lied to so much, by so many people. He didn’t want the same for Cass.
So, was Leila lying? Cass had never thought so before. Leila cared about her, loved her. But… that was before, wasn’t it? It was easy to love someone when every aspect of who they were was edited to best fit what they thought you wanted. She’d diluted herself for so long, poured in enough sweetener to curb the bitterness. She pretended she didn’t feel glad when Andy killed the hunter that attacked Alex, acted as if she wasn’t disappointed when she learned Rhett was still alive after attacking her. She watched Nora kill Debbie in a supermarket with all the lights off, and for months afterward she pretended that that was more important than the fact that she’d made friends because of it, acted as though the ‘not telling’ part of the secret weighed more than the ‘look out for each other’ part that bound them all together.
She thought of the way Metzli thought themself a monster for the people they’d hurt while under someone else’s control, and she wondered what it said about her that no one had ever controlled her, but she hurt people anyway. She wondered what it said that she wished she’d hurt them worse. If Metzli thought they were a monster, what must they have thought of Cass? What must Leila?
Everything she said sounded honest, but Cass couldn’t help but see the asterisk at the end of each sentence. If she’d actually killed that hunter the way she’d wanted to, the way she still sort of wished she had, would Leila be here, still? Would Ariadne still have called her after, still left a voicemail when Cass didn’t pick up?
Leila said she’d go if Cass wanted her to, and the conflict in her gut made her stomach churn. She didn’t want Leila to go, but she didn’t want her to stay, either. She wanted something in between that didn’t quite exist, wanted some impossible contradiction, wanted a world where she could have this family and the one in the cave behind her. But that felt less and less likely with each passing day. It felt like she was going to have to make a choice, sooner rather than later. And hadn’t her father told her that he was the only one who’d ever really stick around? Hadn’t he said he was the only one who ever could?
Those last three words came out of Leila’s mouth, and Cass’s tongue felt heavy. Do you? She wanted to ask. Do you still? Will you tomorrow, or the next day, or a hundred years from now? Did the people of Pompeii love Mount Vesuvius? Did they think it was beautiful, even while it was erupting? Would you love me if I buried a city in ash? She knew the answer for Makaio. That was what complicated it, she thought. She knew her father would love her even after she erupted, because didn’t he understand how it felt when everything built to the point of bursting? Didn’t he have his own Pompeii somewhere? If people like Leila and Metzli and Ariadne, who were good people, who tried to be good, thought of themselves as monstrous just because of the things they were, wasn’t it inevitable that they’d think the same of Cass, too?
Every inch of her ached. She felt like she’d run a marathon or climbed a mountain, even if all she was doing was standing. She swallowed, and even that hurt. “I love you, too,” she said, and she didn’t ask any of the questions that came with it. She was too afraid of the answers. “I gotta go.” She’d been out here too long already. Wouldn’t Makaio worry? Wasn’t that what fathers did? “I… Can you tell Aria I’m sorry?”
—
Every moment of silence between them felt like dying again. She could recall the feeling, even after two centuries. It was an ache that slowly bit into her, hollowed her out little by little until nothing inside of her was left to fight it. But dead things like her could not die again- at least, not of heartbreak. Cass had unwittingly grown up into her life, like ivy weaving its way up the side of a building, latching roots into the little cracks of her heart. With every little bit the girl pulled away, the mare felt herself rip, rip, rip until those cracks were open wounds. Invisible to the eye, but there. Always there.
The four words that broke the silence made her world shake, crumble, rattle like the crust of the earth beneath her would simply swallow her up. Up and down were muddled, love and loss were jumbled up together. She was going to break. Two hundred years and she was going to shatter into dust, and no blade ever had to strike at her neck. I love you too. Four words, and Leila couldn’t tell if they were said in honesty, or if they had merely parrotted back. She wouldn’t blame Cass. Words were easy to repeat. And they could be a shield to hide behind, if you needed one.
Her place in the girl's life was officially a question mark. Half of the mare wondered if she would ever see her again, if Cass would actually reach out, or if this was a strange goodbye with no finality. She swallowed, that glass-shard feeling scratching up her throat. “I’ll tell her.” And then, “I promise.” for good measure. Isn’t that what she could weigh fact on? A promise? A bargain? A promise was not just a word if it could be claimed. Though, perhaps the promise of love and care could not be claimed. It simply had to be believed. And belief was such a fragile thing.
She would not say goodbye. The word was sour on her tongue, and if it was goodbye, she didn’t want to believe it. Not yet. And so, with a sad smile, tears burning her eyes with their wishes to be set free, she forced herself to speak some other words into the air.
“I’ll see you soon, Mon étincelle… I’ll see you soon.”
—
A promise. Months ago — weeks, even — Cass would have shattered the bind instantly, without another thought. She would have said you don’t have to promise me anything, would have scolded Leila for forgetting just how heavy that word could be. She thought of Kuma, of the way the promise she’d made and broken to Cass had eaten away at her until there was nothing left but an empty estate sale. That used to fill her with guilt, used to strangle her with it. But now… It wasn’t her fault, was it? If people made promises, they should keep them. They shouldn’t throw the word around like it was nothing, like it meant nothing. Kuma promised to stay, and she hadn’t. Whatever happened because of that happened thanks to her choices, not Cass’s.
The same would be true for Leila. It wasn’t a big promise, really. It was a simple one, an easy one. All Leila had to do was talk to Ariadne, and who wouldn’t want to do that? Ariadne was easy to talk to. Ariadne was easy to love. It was Cass who was the problem, Cass who everyone always walked away from. Or… almost everyone. She leaned unconsciously back towards the mouth of the cave, away from Leila. The quiet fluttering in her stomach informing her of nearby fae used to come with such dread, but it was a comfort now. No one loved you like family, her father told her. Other people would walk away, every time. Ariadne would fall to a hunter someday, when Cass was not around to stop it. Metzli would abandon her the same way they had before, and Leila loved them too much not to go right along with them.
Her human friends would die, her immortal friends would leave. But Cass wouldn’t be alone. Not anymore, not ever again. Makaio was here, and he loved her. He wanted her in his life, he appreciated her. Shouldn’t she do whatever it took to make sure that wasn’t misplaced? Didn’t she have to?
“Okay,” she agreed, and she made the bind. It felt wrong, but only for a moment. Only for a moment, before that fluttering in her stomach reminded her of who she was, of what she was. Makaio thought it was their right to do things like this, and shouldn’t Cass agree? Wasn’t it better if she did?
Leila said she’d see her soon, and Cass wondered if it was true. The end never quite felt like the end when it was happening, did it? It wasn’t like in a movie, where the music swelled up and the plot points all tied together perfectly to wrap things up in a nice little bow. It wasn’t like in a comic book, where you could count the pages you had left. In real life, people walked away and it seemed normal. It seemed temporary, but only until they didn’t come back. Only until they stayed away.
Cass took a step back into the cave, and then another. She swallowed, turning away as she made her way back towards Makaio. “See you later, Leila,” she replied, and it burned her tongue like a lie.
She wondered if Mount Vesuvius had grieved like this.
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@muertarte from here:
[pm] Am not gone forever mija. Whenever family needs me I go help. If you ever live somewhere else I will do the same but am sure I will follow you wherever you live.
Will be back in few days okay?
We can go to comic book store and watch movie at theater. I see there is new vampire movie. Maybe it will be accurate.
Will it be wrong to bring rocks from Ireland? Find so many beautiful ones. Am drawing them for you.
[pm] So you just come and go as it suits you? That's a great system.
[user is increasingly angry over the use of the word mija.]
Don't bother. I don't want to see you for however long you decide to stick around before leaving again.
[user blocks metzli and deletes all messages.]
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