Deadly Night

here is my thanks to the monster who didn't succeed in swallowing me alive. Greta Grimm - 40

[greta-grimm]

In Which, Viktor Dies.

Tagging: Greta Grimm, Viktor Grimm, and mentions of Hans Grimm

Timeframe: Takes place prior to the Grimms coming to Arain, during the time of Viktor Grimm’s passing.

Location: Grimm Manor

Notes: This was my audition piece, thought it was time to share. Love you all <3

Most people had a difficult time identifying pivotal moments in their lives, that moment when their life truly took a turn. Greta was not among them, every choice she made, every step she took, and every gamble she placed, she carefully planned.

She stood now in the saloon of her families’ estate, Greta knew what was to come would be a defining moment for her, a moment she had been waiting for, patiently, for most of her life. Her greatest victory, her crowning achievement.  Now, all that remained was to bask in these last few final moments of anticipation.

Gazing out the large, paneled windows at the grounds of their estate, Greta remembered keenly roaming the vast extent with her brother. Poor Hans had always been shortsighted – so caught up in fairytales and wasted ventures that he never quite became the man that Father had tried to make of him.

Their father was a serious man, but an academic, and a Professor of significant social standing at the local university. Viktor Grimm had received accolades for his works, and for his teaching methods, but he was not a warm, nor a compassionate person. His life works could fill much of the families’ extensive library, but around the home in question, there was barely a scrapbook or family portrait in sight.  

This particular day was thick with a morning fog, it seemed to roll on and stretch across the grounds in an infinite expanse, obscuring what might have been the families’ barn, and replacing it instead with an endless abyss of uncertainty. Wispy edges caressed the windowpane, seemingly inviting her, calling her towards the void.

    “Madam.” A small voice broke Greta’s concentration, one she recognized at once. It belonged to a small, meek woman, with mousy unkempt hair that was perpetually getting in her face. Her uniform, neatly pressed, each crease of the black and white ensemble she carefully ironed into place. Greta had known her since childhood, and then, just like now, the woman seemed incapable of meeting Greta’s eyes.

    “What is it?” Greta questioned as she glanced back over her shoulder from where she stood at the window, a glass of brandy gingerly clutched within her grasp. She could not bear the sight of the old woman; the clumsy maid was a reminder of all the things about the Grimm children’s childhood that Greta wished to put behind her. Yet, here they both stood.

    “Your Father is asking for you.”

For the first time in weeks, a smile graced her features as Greta carefully set the glass down next to the crystal decanter. Her Father had taken ill a few months ago and since then his condition had only deteriorated, all the while, Greta, the dutiful daughter had nursed him. It was a very public affair and for her selflessness, Greta had become admired by her peers. One reporter even going so far as to write about the matter in the local paper, the story had gained some attraction, but good PR was hardly her aim.

           “Greta Grimm: Selfless, Brilliant, Inspirational.”

Greta had seen little of her brother Hans, outside of a few letters; it had been many years since the siblings had been close. The elder of the two, Greta had left home the first chance she got, and, at least it seemed, that Hans had never really forgiven her for leaving him behind. It had taken her twenty years to get to this point, to realize that however she tried to walk apart from his shadow, her father followed her every step, her every thought. He was in the face of every person she tried to love, and he was staring back at her every morning in the mirror.

Greta did not follow the maid through her family home, she knew the path to the dimly lit room, where the air was musky and thick. Father had developed a bedsore recently and since then it had become infected; the stench that permeated the man was enough to make Greta crinkle her nose in disgust. Just the same, she approached him, even though she barely recognized the invalid before her as the harsh, stern father that raised her. His skin had yellowed and his eyes were sunken in, his cheeks had grown hollow and Greta could tell from his vitals that this was the weakest he had been. The previous day their family doctor had told her that it would not be long now.

    “My darling.” He whispered as she sat at his bedside and took his cold, withered hand in the warmth of her own.

    “I’m here Poppa.” She answered her voice soft and light as air. Greta had missed the passing of her mother when she was thirteen – car accident, and apparently, it had been quick. Not like this.

    “My sweet, sweet Greta.” He reached to touch her face but his strength was failing and his touch fell just short. “Where… Where is Hans?”

The question felt like a dagger in her chest. Where was Hans? Hans was not here. She was here. She was the prodigy. She was his heir. She nursed his pride, his body – she had taken care of EVERYTHING. Her teeth ground audibly as the words replayed repeatedly in her head so loud that she could have been screaming them. Her eyes, wild and flared, she settled them on her father before she looked sharply back at the maid.

    “Leave us.” Greta said flatly and watched as the old woman retreated; it would be the last time Greta would ever have to lay eyes on the miserable old wretch.

    “Where – where is my son? Please Greta you must…” He began rambling, his eyes in a state of panic, but she merely pressed a finger to his lips and let out a quiet shush before he refocused on her.

    “He’s not coming Poppa, there’s only me. You will never see Hans again because… Well because you’re going to die and very soon.” Greta said as she caressed his face, he seemed confused as his eyes tried to find an answer in his daughter’s unreadable soul. “Your heart is starting to race; this state of panic will only deteriorate your condition further, I know, you must be in a lot of pain, but before you go I need you to know something.” Understanding crossed his features as he looked to Greta with rage, almost immediately gasping for air as his face and skin turned violent shades of red.

    “Yes Poppa, it was me.” The gasping stopped and suddenly her father was perfectly still, statuesque even and Greta knew he was done. She leaned towards the corpse, unbothered by the heated stench of his musk and filth, her words a violent whisper of venom and spit. “This is for Hans.”

    “Someone help please!” Greta screamed as terror flooded the room and tears began streaming from her face, within a moment the room was flooded with people and Greta found herself back in the saloon, pouring herself a brandy and basking in her greatest victory. Lights flashed through the window as the once still house grew loud; she wondered where these people were before, why they waited for the girl to become a monster instead of pulling her from the jaws of a beast. She waited, and found justification in the silence of her greatest victory.

[greta-grimm]

@everfang

It was noisy inside the Cabin, much louder than Greta had imagined it would be. Somehow she pictured the enchanters sitting around in circles singing kumbayas before participating in a copious and disgusting amount of orgy-play. She was somewhat relieved that the latter turned out to be little more than a conjuration of Greta’s own over-active imagination. Regardless of what expectations the Cabin had met, exceeded, or failed to reach, Greta had remained just the same - if only to linger on the fringes of conversation.

Peace.

It seemed an obscene notion, but as it stood, the forest was enjoying it in its simplest state. Greta knew better than most that it wouldn’t last, and, no matter how hard she tried, she could never fit in with the crowds of people that had flocked to the ever-expanding Cabin. Absently she wondered if she’d ever truly come to understand this place, the moment Greta believed she’d solved one mystery - ten more appeared. Through magick, it was seemingly possible to alter the basis of one’s genetic principles. Despite her birth, the mask she adorned had converted her features, and even her core nature to that of a Fae. She found it impossible to tell a lie, and, more annoyingly so, she could hear the whispers and murmurs of the woodland creatures that filled the spaces between what was seen and not seen. 

So, she seized the opportunity, wearing a custom fitted black dress, Greta stood outside of the cabin, framed by moonlight and her own wavering indecisiveness. With a gesture, a small bluebird came to land on her finger, and through the eyes of her mask, Greta observed the creature. 

“Where did you go when the winter came?” Greta asked the typical migratory species, with a small chirp and brief flutter of its wings it responded: “I flew away.”

Dissatisfied by the response, Greta went to make this known before the bird flew off - startled by the approaching presence of someone coming from the Cabin. “Amalia.” Greta said smoothly, her tone matching something akin to warmth at the sight of the woman, she should have known the vampire would turn up here, but considered the surprise welcome just the same. “Were you watching long?”

[greta-grimm]

kainanxrowe:

@greta-grimm

So maybe the Enchanters weren’t all bad. One had given him a baggy of cookies with a delicate warming spell that would keep them at the perfect temperature - not too melty, not too crunchy, and he’s frankly not sure why they don’t all just eat perfect cookies all the time. Clearly, that was a waste of good hard-working tastebuds but whatever, more for him. He’d maybe worked his way down the beverage table too, trying a little bit of everything from water to multiple teas to the alcohols. He’d forgotten how much taste liquids that weren’t blood could have. He’d marveled at tea for a long time because it was water + leaves and how did that equal such happiness on his tongue? But eventually, he had to pee and was reminded that that was a thing and had to search around the cabin for the Special Room and remembered to wash his hands before coming back out, full, and a little drunk, and a lot happy with life.

It felt good to smell and breathe and feel his own heartbeat and he only wished Sorin and Erasmus was around here somewhere and feeling the same things he was. His height usually did him an advantage but with the masks on, it was nearly impossible to tell who was who and since he’d memorized bloodscents and not scent-scents it was impossible to pick people out that way now. He’d just have to keep wandering. Eventually, he spotted a familiar shock of blonde hair and while it wasn’t quite the shade he was looking for, he should probably be polite and say something and not pretend he didn’t see her, like his first thought had been. Trying to guess the appropriate size smile for a boss, he approached her, but alcohol grabbed his tongue before he could. “I like your ears!” came out before he could stop it and the only way he could think to save the situation was to push the baggie out and offer a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. Cookie? They’re warm!” and pretend like there weren’t flowers busily growing and tying themselves around his hair with another vine heading her way. 

Truthfully Greta had no idea what she was doing here, she was far from the facility, far from any semblance of safety, and to make matters worse - the enchanters had changed her in some way that she was still trying to wrap her head around. She hadn’t intended to go to the Cabin, but the enchanters were something of the peacekeepers of the forest, if Greta didn’t at least appear to be making an attempt, it could be taken as some insult or slight against their desires for complacency. Dull, poorly decorated, and filled with rather poor company, Greta was absolutely miserable - grateful only for the beautifully ordained mask upon her face that hid her identity from mostly everyone. 

Then the whispering started.

It was subtle at first, a stray word here, a misplaced phrase there.

“Did you hear?”

“Did you see?”

She quirked her head slightly, straining to hear as she looked for the source of the sound. There were countless masked individuals, the murmur of independent conversations permeated the air around her - yet there was something that seemed to be speaking only to her, even if it was done so unintentionally. Greta wondered absently if this was some side effect of the magick the enchanters had placed her under, if perhaps madness was their revenge for the countless acts the GRF had committed against the forest, to date.

Her paranoia, however, was misplaced. Under a far table sat a pair of mice, they were engaged in what could only be called typical rodent behavior - devouring food that was not theirs, hovering just inches from the safety of the hole they could retreat into at a moment’s notice. As she looked at them, Greta found she could hear them as well as observe their filthy behavior. 

“Fucking wonderful.” She breathed, finding some humor in the apparently divine comedy that had become her life. Her eyes left the tiny little rodents as she heard the voice of a someone familiar approach, Kainan; the former vampire now - fae? was something of a welcome sight, though Greta’s tone did little to elude to such.  

“I don’t.” Greta stated evenly, “if I’d know their intention was to torture us, I’d have never have come. Please remind me to burn this place to the ground come morning.” Her last comment received something of a side eye by a passerby, but Greta ignored the incredulous looks - she was mostly joking after all.

“Isn’t she the one with that awful singing voice?”

“yeah, that’s her, real banshee.”

Greta’s head turned to snap at the nasty little vermin under the table, her eyes meeting theirs before she yelled, “shut your filthy little mouths!” Again, there were some looks, but the mouse scurried away quickly after the fact as she only now began to notice the plant life that Kainan seemed to be exuding with his very presence. “I’ll pass on the baked goods, but the flowers are a lovely touch Kainan. You really should consider adding more colour to your life.”

[greta-grimm]

theyoungergrimm:

The last several nights, Hans had woken before leaving the facility. Once had been while pushing aside the desk he’d moved in front of his door, and the second had been while he was halfway out of his office window. He’d need to talk to someone about putting locks on the outside as well. But tonight he hadn’t set up any barriers. Tonight he was determined to get to the source of whatever this was. He was being led somewhere, he had no doubt of that. Someone or something was calling to him, and if he could just find the source of it, the dreams would end. Before going to bed he had filled each coat pocket with weapons pertaining to every creature they knew of within the forest, had brought multiple devices to call for help and to lead him home. He was as prepared as he could be.

The dream came again, the soft persistent glow drawing him ever forward. It was as if the thing knew he was coming to it this time, as if it had turned to face him and was holding out whatever arms a shapeless light could have. His pace quickened at the prospect of finding the source when he was shaken cruelly awake, into a darkness much harsher than the one he walked through in his dreams. He could hear his voice still being called out behind him and his mouth twisted in frustration. There he was, finally ready to learn what was happening, and something was getting in his way.

He turned and blinked in surprise to see Greta hurrying after him. He hadn’t seen her since that night - Greta lying on the ground, no pulse, no breath, Hans kneeling beside her pressing against the wound and calling for help and intermittently mumbling her name as if that would wake her - and he frowned. Not only had he not seen her, she hadn’t left the facility in weeks and here she was, outside at night. This was immediately followed by the thought that she knew about the sleepwalking. He wasn’t sure how she couldn’t have known, but no one had ever stopped him or mentioned it and he had assumed that his sleeping self was able to be quite sneaky when he wanted to be. “Go back inside, Greta,” he called to her, crossing his arms against the wind. “Everything is fine. I’m working.”

Bullshit. That’s what it was. Whatever ‘project’ Hans would call this, there was no reason for him to be wandering the forest at night. Armed or not, it was dangerous, and if his intention truly was to sleepwalk out into the middle of nowhere for academic purposes, then he could have ordered a team to follow him to ensure his safety. Greta wondered at times if Hans had some sort of death wish, or if he intentionally placed himself in these situations because he liked to torment her in his own insignificant way.

Whatever the scenario, she wasn’t going to allow him to remain out here alone. For better or for worse, Greta had to accept that the two of them were in this together. If anything happened to him, now of all times, the tentative balance of power would continue to shift unfavorably. After such losses, they needed to present themselves as both united, and strong to any who looked in from the outside.

“No.”

Greta stated flatly. Her movements brought her quickly to his side, somewhere in the back of her mind, Kharon stated the obvious risks involved of venturing into the forest, virtually unarmed, but Greta promptly ignored them and silenced the automated creature pending any serious threats to herself or the facility. “I’m not leaving,” Greta reiterated, she could further the point and go on about how nothing was fine, how nothing had been fine for some time now, but she dismissed the notion from her mind. “You have two options, you can accept my help and fill me in on what exactly you’re doing out here, or you can refuse my help, and have it forced upon you just the same. Decide, Hans.”

[greta-grimm]

youre-a-pain:

Ora was drooling in her sleep. It was such a nice dream. Cold and relaxing; course’ she couldn’t exactly feel cold or anything as a vampire but it didn’t mean she didn’t feel it. More of she didn’t mind what it was but it was there, not the same impact that she would have loved as a living breathing being — now that she was a dead breathing being. It was very complicated, one that her life had depended on doing than thinking. After all, this was what she had wanted for so long and now that it’s there — who could blame a gal for day dreamin’ right?

The rude interruption of her sleep had Ora awake with a hiss, a wave of her hand for whoever it was to go away. At the sound of a very crisp shout of ‘get up’ Ora slapped said hand on the very soil-ey land. Soil? That wasn’t right. “Holy fuck it’s frigid like a married belladonna harpy.” Ora stood up as she wiped the saliva of the side of her mouth. A fucking WALL of ice sprouted everywhere. C r a z y.

She addressed Greta - as she knew that voice even if she did not see the human. Not much to hide on picking up human voices in a certain unit after all. “What’s up your Queenliness?” Ora greeted the very… wow. The very disheveled looking, scantily clad land lady of the Strix's  home. Ora probably stared for quite a while before she heard a low growl that amazingly didn’t come from her: seeing as there was only |two| of them and she was getting pretty hungry after waking up.

“A puppy… an ugly puppy… dog.” A small moue of distaste was painted on her face before she turned back to the GRF lady. “A dog really, d'ya want me to do anything?” she tried to smile, really she did; though it came out more as a questioning look that had an etch of a smile. “If you specifically asked on the radio I do shit for you I might not but with this look? I’ll bite.” Ora waited patiently at a command, part of her interested in what Greta would say, part of her doing it to rile the blonde woman up. If Ora was alone, she’d know what to do but as it looks like it, they’re gonna be in this together…Greta could be as good as dead in the middle of the ice forest without anything but her hot looks special, very proficient human abilities.

The beasts let out a low growl as Ora seemed to make light of the situation, Greta imagined it was likely easier for the vampire to shrug off the ordeal - but Greta had already died once this year, she didn’t care to do it again. Greta bit back the urge to snap at the woman for her apparent inability to take the situation seriously, admittedly Greta knew little about Ora beyond what she had been told. She was a friend of the troublemaker Sorin, and she was the only thing currently standing between Greta and the dogs that wanted to turn her into a chew toy. 

The hound growled and stepped closer, revealing more of  its hideous features - it was clear it was some manner of magical beast that only resembled a dog, that notion provided far less comfort than Greta would have liked, however. “Kill it.” Greta bit sharply as a cold wind seemed to rush straight through her and she took a measured step back while the dogs made an approach. “Kill it, please.” Greta reiterated as the dog snarled and lunged forward, in an instant, Greta turned on her heel and was running in the opposite direction, terrified that once again the forest was trying to kill her. 

Normally Greta was composed, nothing got to her, but since Christmas she hadn’t left the facility. In fact, Greta hadn’t so much as left her lab since the Krampus had attacked her and Hans in their own facility. Here, in this strange place that barely even resembled the forest, Greta felt her death as jaws snapped behind her - eagerly seeking the tender flesh of her legs. 

[greta-grimm]

@theyoungergrimm

It was cold.

Even through the artificial heating of the GRF, winter seemed to seep in through the walls. As always, Greta found some solace in her work, and in the bodies that Erasmus had been able to provide for her. She had taken some lengths to avoid her brother, not that that was at all uncommon, but ever since Christmas, Greta had kept a mindful distance between herself and her brother. Not to say she hadn’t been keeping an eye on Hans, he was her brother after all and he had a penchant for getting himself in difficult situations. Something they apparently had in common.

It was late.

Sleep had been difficult for her lately, as hard as she worked, Greta’s mind couldn’t stop firing. It had been weeks since she’d had a decent night’s rest, often she awoke with her head on her desk, or curled up under the sterile bright lights of her lab. Her chambers were too isolated, too cold, too… Unsafe. Here in her lab she was securely underground behind secured doors and surrounded by what could be considered no less than a shrine to her own brilliance.

She was afraid.

On some level, in a way that Greta couldn’t say out loud or even admit to herself. Arain had rattled her, the Krampus had taken her life, and by the grace of her own ingenuity – Greta yet lived, even if it was in fear. She’d resigned herself to stay within the walls of the facility, yet even in the place that had made her feel secure, Greta had been made vulnerable. Literally pulled from her bed by magick, Greta had been placed in some magical construct that had nearly killed her – more than once.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Greta looked up at her creation, brushing the side of its face almost lovingly before Kharon informed her that Hans was roaming the halls again. She left her lab, taking a private elevator up to her office before she moved to sit at her desk, the wall of monitors that acted as a concealed doorway closed neatly behind her. From here, she watched her brother as his sleepwalking pulled him through the facility. He’d been doing this for some time now, disappearing on more than one occasion – Greta had considered putting a lock on his door, but somehow, she doubted Hans would agree. Besides, that would mean they’d have to have a conversation about this.

She watched his dark figure move in and out of frames, felt her own breathing hitch when he wandered to the courtyard. Greta felt frozen, not from the cold, not from personal fear, but for concern for Hans’ safety. After a moment, Greta was up and headed to ground level while she tightly pulled her jacket around herself. Greta was outside before she really had time to take a moment, but it was just that, because in the distance Hans was already moving through the gates and Greta was chasing after him, calling his name.

[greta-grimm]

@youre-a-pain

Greta groaned as Kharon woke her up, suddenly and violently as her head almost screamed with new information, Greta’s implanted AI first alerted her that she had left the facility, but when Greta opened her eyes and quickly took in her surroundings, she couldn’t help but wonder if they had left the forest of Arain entirely. Nothing appeared remotely familiar to her as she gazed out into the veil of snow and ice, nothing, except of course for Miss Payne. Greta hadn’t taken the time to meet the vampire in person, but she had heard enough from the Strix to know that she needed to approach this situation logically if she hoped to make it back to the facility alive.

Greta was dressed in a nightgown, one that barely fell to her knees and was certainly not made out of a strong enough material to stand the current temperature. She felt a shudder run through her as she pulled her robe against her skin – she detested being in such a vulnerable position. If she’d been given time to prepare she would have come prepared with explosives, climbing gear, and enough firearms to level anything in her path. As it stood, Greta had her modifications, her superior intellect, her martial arts, and hopefully one compliant vampire.

“Wake up.” Greta hissed as the low growl of a dog came from the distance, “Ora – get up!” Greta shouted as she moved to place Ora in between herself and the mysterious beast on the other side of the thick snowfall. An ocular implant picked up three heat signatures, relatively larger in frame than a dog, she wondered how long the animals had been watching them for, and what it would take for them to strike.

[greta-grimm]

n-sapheire:

Nadeia kept her composure, she removed the biases in her head that tampered with her relationship with Greta from before. She silenced the orders, the footsteps from the facility by the lake, the noise on the radio that was of Greta’s voice. She focused on the now, and of the past, the past which was many years priors, decades even. Silencing everything in between.

Greta sounded, older - which was very much normal due to it had been years. But it also sounded, sadder, there was little feeling - so much less than of before. On another note, there was that hammer of confidence that never left. It always made Nadeia’s heart flutter. How confident the other was. Wherein Nadeia would blindly work on herself and find wonder in many things and new surroundings, Greta always seemed to be one step forward.

“And is that what you are doing here? Regenerative medicine, finding ways how magicks can help you find your goal?” she asked this with no tone of resentment. The mer knew some of what has happened in the GRF, watched them from afar, felt the cries move until the lake had drowned them. Her tears for  them freely mixed with Faelias. She was never one for confrontation, disliking how it made her and others feel.

Nadeia stepped in closer, trying to channel a sort of confidence herself, there were many twisted roots of old, and so - with clarity that no blind human could possess, especially since she did not have a walking stick - Nadeia moved to a neaby gnarled root not so far from Greta to sit down. “That is unfortunate about Dr. Meier, younger minds could have shaped the findings more.” With a small sigh, she addressed the other woman “You might have questions with me Doctor.” she smiled at her, mimicking the actions of old.

Nadeia remembered how before, how she met Greta, she would visit different students once a week, until she made it a point to actually use her Siren Song on Dr. Meier, in secret to let her be matched to Greta until they became a sort of team. Once a week, turned to two, and even three. She enjoyed chatting with the younger woman, finding her zeal with her chosen background infectious.

Greta considered the question, it came as something of a shock that outside of the GRF, Nadeia was one of the first people to inquire about the work that occurred behind the facilities walls. The other woman seemed to see through her, yet there was nothing in her voice that might indicate any disdain for Greta’s actions. It was strange really, like Greta had suddenly taken a step back through time and nothing had changed, but the truth couldn’t be further from that fact for nothing had truly remained the same with the passing of years.

Still, there was a rawness to the question that shook Greta in a way that she hadn’t been expecting, she had intended to make a name for herself. All of her life had been about innovation, she rarely cared much for others, but at some point she’d ceased caring all together. “There are some components from my previous work, but it is difficult to compare what we’re doing at the GRF to common areas of study - the introduction of magick is something of a new field all together.” Greta answered, somewhat truthfully, though if she was being completely honest a simple yes might have done just as well.

Nadeia was more graceful than Greta remembered, for someone without any sight, Nadeia navigated the gnarled roots aptly and with quick eyes, Greta Grimm did not miss a beat. “Perhaps, but I suppose we’ll never know. Their work will live on in the inspiration of their students.” Greta remarked noncommittally, she had not personally carried on the study that was now twenty-years old in a world where medical innovations were made almost daily. 

She moved to stand nearer, but found herself taking a seat not at all far from Nadeia, and not at all unlike the distance she’d once kept between them when the woman was her patient. Seeing her now, Greta felt aggravated that she had been deceived for so long, Greta had wasted a long time turning her nose up at her little brother, and the truth was she’d been wrong the whole time - but further to the point, for weeks the truth had stared her in the face and she simply hadn’t known. 

“What are you? Since you were clearly never truly human.”

[greta-grimm]

erasmusrowe:

Thank fucking God. The lighter gave an abrupt snap and with a few collective puffs, the cigarette was lit and Erasmus tilted his head back in absolute bliss. It was so good to have this back, if only for a short time. He would have to conserve them as much as he could, but at the same time wanted nothing more than to chain smoke the entire pack. Maybe he was just prone to addictions, first and foremost being indulgence. 

“The Queens.” He replied instantly, pulling the cigarette from his lips and taking care not to blow the smoke into Great’s face. It was nice having her feel comfortable enough to come close to him. Not many did that, especially from the humans. “I spoke to a fae that mentioned an alliance and a chain of leadership. He said something about a Queen, and I can only assume each court has their own series of leaders, each of them possibly being more potent than the others.” Getting in would be the challenge, as running into fae was a rarity, and the ones he seemed to run into didn’t hold any air of royalty about them. “Otherwise I can just start attempting to bring you live ones and we can see what we stumble upon.”

He could probably do that tonight. He’d already fed and so would likely be able to keep an eye out without striking at the first possible moment. “I can go back out and see what I can find.” Erasmus offered. “Unless you need anything else from me here.”

Greta felt a chill run up her spine at the suggestion, the smell of nicotine adding something to a memory that stirred below the surface, though she kept herself from addressing it with any further thought. It had been some time since Greta had crossed paths with Aibell, at the time the Fae Queen had been glamoured, but the royal guard that followed her had given enough away for Greta to connect the dots. She also knew that whatever the situation was at the Forts, it was tentative, and if the correct cards were played, then the GRF could take advantage of the confusion that would undoubtedly follow a civil war. 

“We’re in a delicate position within the Forest,” Greta stated evenly, “so long as the other factions are united against us, we must be prepared to play a long game. The likelihood of abducting either of the Queens without being seen is... Quite slim, if not impossible. The last thing we need is to bring the wrath of the entire forest down upon us, but it is a worthy goal." Greta stated, absently wondering why a Fae would willingly divulge secrets to a vampire and slowly piecing together Erasmus’ puzzle. It would help to have eyes within the Court, but they would need to be eyes that could be trusted, eyes with a reason to want the Queens taken out. 

She needed to take a moment to think, Erasmus was smart to suggest the Queens, but he was far too valuable to be wasted on a suicide mission. No, this would take tact. “”Bring me what Fae you can find, we’ll run some tests, and interrogate those who are more... Pliable. This Fae you mentioned, can they be counted on? We will need allies, and from what I’ve been told, neither court has a fondness for the other. I believe we can use this to our advantage, with the right people in place.”

[greta-grimm]

I love and adore you Dr. Greta Grimm.

“As you should.”

[charlizesource]

Charlize Theron Will Kick Your Ass.

[greta-grimm]

erasmusrowe:

Erasmus watched her as she moved, glad that his story was accepted and the offense swept under the rug. At her words, he did breathe a sigh of relief, but it had nothing to do with tearing himself apart over it. Fact was, he didn’t care at all about the men he’d killed, he was just glad he’d been able to save Aislinn and now apparently get away with it all without so much as a slap on the wrist.

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Erasmus replied, turning in place and eyeing the small container retrieved. “Or a means of masking scents if one of your men gets injured. A drop of blood can be detected from quite the distance by all of us, especially the hungry ones.” The container opened, and Erasmus caught the smell of those wonderful sticks of nicotine, wanting to light one up in an instant and possibly hug Greta for giving them to him. “Thank you.” He breathed, accepting the gift and digging out his lighter in a flash before remembering she may just not like him filling the room with smoke. His hands nearly shook with the realization, and his impatience flared at having to wait–but at the same time he didn’t want to ask if it was allowed.

He heard mention of something about blood alternatives, and neglected arguing that the real thing was likely better. If it had anything to do with drinking from more pouches, Erasmus would much rather go for a neck. “Any chance you might be able to do the same from fae?” He asked. “I definitely have acquired a taste for their blood, but I don’t like playing Russian Roulette with the after-effects.” He placed one of the cigarettes in his mouth, savoring the taste alone and near moaning from it.

Absently Greta drew a parallel in her mind between sharks and vampires, considering them both to fall in the realm of apex predators. She had considered some time ago that it would likely be in the facilities’ best interests to develop safe guards to protect against the vampires,  Dr. Chudary had been charged with the blood protocol, Greta made a mental note to make sure the Chemist was staying on task. She was a sympathetic sort.

“That’s fascinating,” Greta answered truthfully as she handed the case off to him, “enhanced senses, strength, speed, and mind compulsion - you really are exceptional.” Greta added, it helped that Erasmus was a man who projected some air of intelligence, she did not know who he was before he became a vampire, but the boy had appeared and was seemingly here to answer the GRF’s prayers. Since the Strix had arrived, the cells had remained full, and research had charged ceaselessly forward ever since. Overhead the rooms circulation hummed to life with little more than a passing thought on Greta’s part, she could control much of the facility remotely, her integrated AI saw to that.  “You can smoke in here if you’d like, there are no sensitive materials present, and  I’ve isolated the ventilation system so it won’t contaminate the other labs.”

She moved to gather some notations as Erasmus spoke of the fae blood, the paperwork she gathered was largely written in her own shorthand, but she placed the documents in a folder labelled in progress. Greta smiled lightly at Erasmus’ confession for his fondness for Fae blood, in a way they had that in common, though she was not about to vocalize this to him. “Absolutely,” Greta said as she brought her eyes towards him again and placed the folder in a draw, locking it with a key afterwards. “We’ve isolated the gene that dictates how their magick develops,” she moved towards him again as he placed the cigarette in his mouth, Greta would need to have the place sterilized afterwards, but it was a task that required very little effort on her part. “now we simply need to find Fae whose blood is more... Beneficial, rather than adverse.” 

[greta-grimm]

What was the last book you read without skipping through anything? || What is the weirdest scar you have and how did you get it? || What are some of the nicknames you have for your coworkers? || What would the world be like if it was filled with male and female copies of you?

What was the last book you read without skipping through anything?

Magic and Medical Science by Dr. Ghalioungui... If you’d asked me a year ago what I thought of the man I would have gone into some extensive detail about why such a person should be stripped of his ability practice medicine. I thought he was a glorified quack, yet somehow I found a copy of his book among my things when I finished unpacking. It’s almost... surreal, I wonder what they will say about me when I write of the discoveries in this place. I expect I’ll be celebrated, if not, I will at least be feared.

What is the weirdest scar you have and how did you get it?

This... Isn’t particularly strange, I have a few small surgical scars. One along the base of my scalp, another near my neck, another on my right side just between my rib cage, another on my forearm. Though the surgeon who performed the procedure hardly left a trace, they’re still there for those who get close enough to see. 

What are some of the nicknames you have for your coworkers?

There was Dopey, but unfortunately he was crushed by a falling tree in the forest. There was Sleepy, but she was recently killed by some magick. Then there was a few who’s names I couldn’t be bothered to learn, so I just named them 1-4. Sadly they’re all dead now as well.

What would the world be like if it was filled with male and female copies of you?

Perfect.

[greta-grimm]

erasmusrowe:

There it was, and Erasmus shifted and lowered his eyes. He couldn’t mention Aislinn, not only to protect her but knowing that admitting his loyalties had shifted in that moment would put himself and The Strix at risk. He’s put them at risk before, multiple times, but now they were trapped here, having shelter only because of the humans offering it. No use in burning bridges. Erasmus didn’t think he could tolerate Kainan’s look of disappointment either.

Erasmus had been prepared for this conversation at least, and it was easy enough to blame himself when his lack of control was already well enough known. Blood was still on his tongue, and he rolled it around in his mouth for a moment before looking back to Greta. “Your men were outside of the GRF’s boundaries, and in an area I typically hunt.” That much at least, was true. They had pursued Aislinn out further into the forest than they would have typically gone. “One of them was cut or scraped, enough for their blood to draw me in, and I was unable to hold back. Understandably, the others tried to stop me, but everything went red during that fight and I didn’t realize the damage I’d caused until it was too late.”

He thought back to the carnage he very much remembered and frowned. “I’m trying to correct this, so it doesn’t happen again.” That was the truth too, but it would take time, and hopefully she would understand that much. “In the meantime, I’ll hunt even further away if I need to.”

Greta hung onto Erasmus’ every word, her fast eyes following even the slightest of movements. She had no doubt regarding the truth of his words, but she found it curious that her hunters had seen fit to venture into such a dangerous part of the wood, particularly if said part of the wood was already outside their usual hunting grounds. Greta could surmise that either her hunters had all collectively lost their heads and decided to play with fire, or perhaps something drew them out - either some chase, or some form of magick Greta couldn’t as yet be sure. 

It was a story that she could spin to cool the masses, a story that would inevitably play to her advantage. The lives of those she’d been charged with the care of mattered very little to her beyond their purpose for being brought here, if a hunter could not survive the forest - then they simply needed to be replaced.  “There’s no need to tear yourself apart over it dear, accidents happen all the time.” Greta breathed as she moved to close the space between them, “the offence is forgivable, but I’ll need to take some precautions to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

Greta moved past him and retrieved a set of keys from the pocket of her lab coat, she moved to unlock the cabinet as she continued. “I’ll speak to David, with you and your Strix there’s no need to send out amateur hunters to be slaughtered, the GRF could always use more guards. Perhaps he can arrange a system where only teams led by our best will venture so far out.” Greta retrieved a small metal cigarette case, currently filled with the brand that Erasmus had brought with him to Arain. “I’m in the process of synthesizing a blood alternative made from the organic product we’ve been able to harvest from the bodies you and your Clan have collected,” She turned again towards him now, extending the case towards Erasmus, Greta wasn’t certain if he still smoked, but the she knew if he had stopped it likely hadn’t been by case. “These are for you, a small token of my appreciation for all the hard work you’ve put in to get us to this point.” 

[greta-grimm]

theyoungergrimm:

The gun went off and Hans jumped away from Greta, ears ringing with the noise. As his hearing returned he watched his father -somehow here, after everything- come closer, the familiar glower on his face, and Hans felt about three feet tall. He was still alive. Or…whatever he was. Greta hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t taken him away. The twist inside of Hans’ gut was something he hadn’t felt for a long time. The simultaneous urge to hide and to reach out for a hug and approval that never came.

“I tried to raise you to be as good as I am, as good as your sister is. But you couldn’t just do that, could you? You’re a lunatic, still as crazy now as you were as a child.” His face twisted, skin growing grayer and eyes yellowing. “You humiliated us. You dragged this family’s name over the rocks for your own delusions and look where it has gotten you. Trapped and terrified.” 

Hans shook his head, feet locked in place as the thing wearing his father’s face approached him. Greta’s voice pushed through the fog that was steadily rising in his brain and he spoke without looking at her. “They can’t- they could be back, couldn’t they? Some kind of spell or- maybe they’re like the vampires.” But why would they see different people? And why would the lights shift around them like that, almost as if Willow were there but not quite? He could feel the hope that had been rising inside of him being crushed down and he finally managed to take a step back, just as his father lunged toward them.

The fact that Hans wasn’t taking the time to gloat over the fact that Greta had, on some conscious level, immediately turned to Hans for an answer. She couldn’t give herself the time to really weigh the significance of this, her own attention was still firmly fixated upon the woman in front of her, the woman who was very much supposed to be dead, yet here she was - seemingly standing before Greta now in flesh and blood. 

A spark of arrogance made her think that if her bullet could not effect this being, then it was little more than an apparition - something sent to scare and torment but was incapable of inflicting any real harm. 

It continued to get colder as the temperature continued to plummet around them, but Greta was not phased, she simply raised the pistol again, content to prove herself right. “Whatever this is, I don’t accept it.” Greta said simply, emptying the clip as the revolver resounded loudly in quick repetition, the gunshots echoed off the walls and with every shot, Greta’s heart seemed to glow a little brighter. Her mother flickered like a passing light as each shot had no impact, to Greta, this was further proof that this was little more than a trick of the mind. 

Her mother was close enough to touch for the first time in almost thirty years, even now Greta could smell the signature perfume that was Hilde Grimm’s signature. It’s a trick, nothing more. Don’t be deceived. The reminder came as something of a reprimand as her limbs betrayed her and she stood, quivering in place.

“These things aren’t even re -” A smack fell across her face, strong enough to knock Greta backwards, and with enough force to make her lose her balance as she fell to the ground. It had been a long time since anyone had placed a hand on her, and with horror written across her features she came to understand that once again, she was wrong. 

“It must be unbearable for you, to be in a place where you are so far out of your depth? All those years of ridiculing your brother, all that time spent resenting your father - and you turned out exactly like him.” Greta moved backwards, sliding across the slick stones of the courtyard as her feet slipped out from under her. 

“You’re wrong.” Greta said, though it came out as more of a whisper, the words took root and to her very core Greta was more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. In the background the Little Drummer Boy swelled and Greta screamed.

[greta-grimm]

What do you respect most about your brother?

“He has a measure of tact when dealing with the magicks of the forest, he must, otherwise he’d very likely be dead by now.”

[greta-grimm]

What would it take for you to finally give up on your brother?

“Give up on him? I gave up on my brother long ago, I resigned myself to the fact that he’d always be yapping at my heels. It was this place that changed my mind, I simply had to accept that he does have his value. Our relationship will likely always be strained, but he is my brother, and I would kill for him.”