[hearthtales]

↠ 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚌, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎? (rachel mckibbens)

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒. independent, selective, private.

An OC-focused multimuse exploring hauntings, the house as a body and the body as a house, shape-shifting, deal-making, magic, memories, forms of disappearance, (un)belonging, and (un)locked doors.

RULES || MUSES || INTEREST CHECKER

— currently very slow/selective activity

[beautiful-mischief]

With Hawthorn’s long fingers curled loosely through the leather collar around the hound’s neck to keep it from going on another wild sprint around the castle it finally seemed to have settled, and as a reward Mal continued to treat it to the remaining strips of bacon that Ada had pressed into his hands, resorting to crouching down to give him a good fussing once Birch had happily snaffled up what remained — he already smelled like wet dog, so he saw no harm in it for the moment.

As the seamstress offered to lend a hand cleaning up the puddles that the dog had left behind Mal shot the seamstress a chiding glance, one which the faerie lord acknowledged with a wry curl of his lips as he sincerely pondered Ada’s helpfulness for all of a few moments and then dismissed it with an easy shake of his head. “Nonsense.” He drawled “You are our guest, I can have someone else deal with all the mess.”

“He’s right.” Satisfied that Hawthorn was in agreement that she shouldn’t be scurrying about cleaning up puddles when there was no need, Mal straightened and nodded, looping his arm through hers. “You should still be resting — and I think we may all need baths ourselves, at this rate. We can head back upstairs, and I’m sure Birch will be fine here with Thorn in the meantime.”

[hearthtales]

Ada missed Mal’s chiding glance, already busy imagining how to tackle the soggy mess the hound had left behind. It would be a challenge, certainly, yet a satisfying one to complete. Then Lord Hawthorn declined her request, scattering her thoughts and dismissing her envisioned plans in a heartbeat.

She gaped at him for a moment of incomprehension that swiftly turned to disappointment. The spark of eagerness in her eyes faded, her shoulders slumping. Before she could find her voice, Mal had looped his arm through hers, the seamstress too baffled to resist as he steered her away down the hall.

Resting, baths… resting? “But I— I have rested,” Ada stammered, bewildered words tumbling out at last. How much more rest could she possibly need? She’d never bumped her head quite this hard before, but she was used to aches and bruises; she knew how to keep going despite them. What she couldn’t handle was staying still longer than she already had. At least she had the energy to protest this time.

Frowning, she gently tugged away from Mal to block his path. “Please, Mal,” she insisted, unable to stifle a note of pleading. “I truly appreciate your hospitality, but I’d still like to be useful somehow, even just a small bit, especially with all the mud and paw-prints everywhere. I promise I’m well enough to help.”

[beautiful-mischief]

“Then it’s settled.” Mal grinned, delighted that his jest seemed to have tickled her so as Ada tried to stifle her laughter behind her hand. “Let’s only hope he starts to listen to it — I think we may have to have bacon on hand at all times, at this rate.”

Right as he drew breath to call out for the hound again the sound of thumping paws and panting breaths came echoing from down the hall and around the corner, Mal’s eyes widening in alarm as the soaking wet dog came barrelling it way towards them, eyes bright, only for Ada’s shaky command to send it careening to a halt before them, obediently plopping itself down on the damp flagstones. “That’s better.” He sighed, huffing his amusement as he offered the newly named Birch a couple of pieces of bacon as a reward, smile widening at the sight of his wagging tail. “Such a good dog.” Mal crooned, relieved that the commands the seamstress had offered seemed to be doing the trick. “Good boy, Birch.” Hopefully the name stuck.

Breaking off small pieces of crust and slivers of bacon to keep the hound entertained, a moment later there came the sound of hurried footsteps — and then a huff of relief as Hawthorn rounded the corner and realised that they had the rambunctious creature in their sights, a leather collar dangling from the faerie lord’s long fingertips. As Mal had observed the taller man was almost entirely drenched, burgundy tunic clinging and his long, mahogany coloured locks curling from the moisture, some of the irritation in his expression ebbing as he approached and promptly buckled the collar around the hound’s neck whilst it was still occupied with chewing on its treats.

“Must we keep it?” He drawled, though Mal could see the faintest glimmer of amusement in Hawthorn’s dark eyes now that the frustration of the chase had reached its end.

“Of course we’re keeping him.” Mal insisted, laughing as a long snout shoved its way into his hand, snuffling expectantly for more food. “We’ve called him Birch.” Hawthorn’s expression turned briefly exasperated, though to his credit he also didn’t seem particularly surprised that his love had gone and named the hound already.

“Birch.” His response was entirely deadpan, though the effect was somewhat diminished as Mal watched his lips begin to quirk at the corners.

“Yes. Like the bark.”

Snorting out a laugh, the faerie lord shook his head. “Fine. Birch it is.”

[hearthtales]

Ada had adjusted to living amongst courtiers who delighted in ordering her around on a whim. It was rather disorienting to be the one giving commands for once, even to a dog, and a pang of guilt muddled with sympathy went through the seamstress.

Thank goodness the dog had obeyed her shaky orders, though. It had barreled toward them with such speed she’d feared it would trample them. Her heart ached when she glimpsed scabs through the dog’s wet fur — remnants of wounds sustained in Arianell’s palace — but none appeared to bother the hound, and its limp was now barely noticeable.

Its warm eyes fixed on the bacon in her hands. It licked its lips, and sharp teeth glinted in its mouth. Ada’s fragile courage wavered. She silently passed her strips of bacon to Mal so he could feed them to the dog, too nervous to offer them herself.

Good boy, Birch. The hound gave no sign that it disliked the name. If anything, its tail wagged even faster. Its ears perked at the sound of the fae lord’s approach, but the treats held its attention. It happily chomped them down even as Hawthorn fastened the collar around its neck, then gazed up at the fae lord adoringly (expecting treats from him as well).

Ada had never imagined seeing Hawthorn so soaked, and a smile tugged at her lips, quickly hidden behind her hand. She nodded when Mal shared their name for the dog and barely stifled a laugh of her own at Hawthorn’s approval. She cleared her throat quietly before addressing the fae lord, timid but sincere. “I’m, um, quite used to cleaning up messes. I’d be happy to take care of the puddles and whatnot.”

[thesundowncrew]

Hm? A flicker of intrigue flashed in the ghoul's bright green eyes. What manner of beast could be such a handful that even the great Huntmaster sought aid? They have yet to even identify the mysterious creature..

Curious as he was, Sow'in debated whether hunting such a creature would be worth his time and skills. All that effort into catching a beast that even eluded the great hunters of Alderwood, and for what? Access to ingredients from their pantry? The ghoul scoffed.

And then — an idea.

"There are fewer materials missing from mine own," said Sow'in, suddenly appearing in front of the faerie out of shadow and mist. A pale, humanoid face stared down at Ada. Watching her. Reading her. The cloak that draped from his shoulders looked like they were made from the night itself, void of light and twisting like smoke at its ends. "Ah'm more interested in the beast itself."

Alderwood hunters were known as some of the best, at least on this known side of faerie, and the Huntmaster requesting aid in their hunts was practically unheard of. The more Sow'in thought about it, the more interested he was in the creature. He wanted nothing more than to study it, and learn how it evaded capture from beings whose way of life was dedicated to The Hunt. The ghoul found that more valuable than anything the Court had to offer from their collection.

[hearthtales]

His scoff reached Ada’s sensitive ears. Fresh nerves prickled over her skin and gripped her throat. Oh, how she wished she could vanish on the spot.

All at once, those green eyes were no longer fireflies of flame in the shadow — they were right in front of her, piercing into her as though seeing straight into her soul, the ghoul himself looming over her.

Ada recoiled with a gasp of a cry. Her back struck rough bark, and she shrank downward from there, cowering on the mossy soil between the roots once more as wide eyes stared up at him in pure terror.

What had he said? Something about materials? Was he angry? She couldn’t tell, and her face paled further with the uncertainty of it all, her overworked heart thudding painfully fast in her chest. Her tightly-gripped satchel now shielded both her chest and her chin in an instinctive attempt at protection.

And yet, despite everything, her gaze fixed upon his cloak briefly with a faint flicker of wonder. A cloak of night and tendrils of darkness… she’d never seen anything quite like it. What was it made of? What sort of charm made it move that way? Could she meet its creator and flood them with questions?

Focus! Her frightened gaze snapped back to his deathly pale face. “I- Interested in…?” she squeaked, floundering to piece together her scattered thoughts. “Wh- What sort of interest?” Careful, careful. “That is, um— if- if you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

[recordmemes]

༘⋆｡ where it hurts starters.

caretaker.

i'll  stay  until  you  fall  asleep.

you're  not  a  burden.  not  to  me.

you  don't  have  to  act  tough  with  me.

let  me  help.

if  you  need  to  cry,  i'll  look  the  other  way.

you  don't  have  to  talk.

let  me  handle  it,  just  for  a  minute.

rest,  i'll  watch  over  you.

i  don't  care  if  you  think  you're  fine.  i'm  staying.

deep  breaths.

just  lean  on  me.

you're  safe  now,  okay?  just  breathe.

i  know  it  hurts.  i'll  sit  here  as  long  as  it  takes.

i'm  not  leaving  until  i  know  you're  okay.

you  don't  need  to  hide.

let  me  take  care  of  you  this  time.

shh.  i'm  right  here.

you  don't  have  to  put  on  a  smile  for  me.

i  don't  think  less  of  you.

i'll  be  here  when  you  wake  up.

you're  allowed  to  lean  on  me.  that's  what  i'm  here  for.

you  don't  have  to  be  okay.

scoot  over,  i'm  not  letting  you  sleep  alone.

your  hair's  a  mess.  let  me  brush  it.

don't  apologize.

cared  for.

i'm  tired,  that's  all.

please  don't  go.

i  don't  know  what  i  need.

you  didn't  need  to  come.

you  shouldn't  have  to  see  me  like  this.

i  hate  feeling  like  this.

i  was  trying  to  push  through.  i  think  i  made  it  worse.

this  is  so  embarrassing.

can  you  just...  stay  a  little  longer?

i  didn't  think  anyone  would  notice...

i'm  not  safe  in  my  own  head  right  now.

why  are  you  being  so  gentle  with  me?

i  don't  want  you  to  fix  me.

today's  just...  one  of  the  harder  days.

i  didn't  know  i  needed  to  hear  that.

can  you  stay?  after  i  fall  asleep?

sorry.  i  didn't  mean  to  flinch.

i  don't  always  know  what's  going  to  help.

this  is  the  nicest  anyone’s  been  to  me  all  week.

i'm  sorry.  i  know  i'm  a  lot.

i  don't  even  know  why  i'm  crying...

i  think  i'm  broken.

you  didn't  have  to  do  all  this  for  me.

i  don't  want  to  be  a  burden.

i  didn't  think  anyone  would  stay.

[hearthtales]

take on a beautiful curse

ADA — saint

suddenly, all at once, everybody understands. everyone sees the parts of you that you have worked so hard to improve; everybody knows that you are worthy, that you have been exemplary, in your way. all of your effort has not been for nothing. at the least, people see that you have tried. you are acknowledged. you are seen with compassion. with pride.

you’ve got to be dead for it. is all.

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆   𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send  ‘reverse’ for the sender and  receiver to  swap.  adjust wording as needed!

[  fever  ]  sender  presses  the  back  of  their  hand  to  receiver’s  forehead,  brows  knitting  with  quiet  concern

[  medicine  ]  sender  sets  alarms  on  their  phone  just  to  make  sure  receiver  doesn’t  miss  a  dose

[  blanket  ]  sender  layers  blankets  over  receiver,  adjusting  them  until  they’re  just  right

[  soup  ]  sender  blows  gently  on  a  spoonful  of  soup  before  offering  it  to  receiver

[  water  ]  sender  holds  the  glass  steady,  murmuring  encouragement  until  receiver  takes  a  sip

[  hair  brush  ]  sender  carefully  brushes  receiver’s  hair  back,  slow  and  soothing

[  ice  pack  ]  sender  wraps  an  ice  pack  in  a  towel  and  presses  it  gently  where  it  hurts

[  temperature  ]  sender  wakes  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  just  to  check  if  receiver’s  still  warm

[  pill  ]  sender  places  medicine  in  receiver’s  palm  and  waits  until  they  swallow  it

[  quiet  room  ]  sender  dims  the  lights  and  turns  everything  down  low  so  receiver  can  rest

[  slow  ]  sender  stays  at  receiver’s  pace,  arm  ready  in  case  they  stumble

[  bandage  ]  sender  changes  the  bandages  carefully,  apologizing  even  when  it  doesn’t  hurt

[  lap  ]  sender  lets  receiver  rest  their  head  in  their  lap  while  they  stroke  their  hair

[  night  watch  ]  sender  refuses  to  sleep  deeply,  listening  for  every  shift  or  breath

[  warm  cloth  ]  sender  presses  a  cool  cloth  to  receiver’s  neck  or  wrist

[  cough  ]  sender  rubs  slow  circles  between  receiver’s  shoulders  through  every  coughing  fit

[  carried  ]  sender  helps  receiver  move,  taking  more  weight  than  they  should  without  complaint

[  pain  ]  sender  distracts  receiver  with  quiet  stories  or  memories  until  the  pain  dulls

[  soft  voice  ]  sender  speaks  more  gently  than  usual,  like  anything  louder  might  hurt

[  held  ]  sender  sits  behind  receiver,  arms  around  them  so  they  don’t  have  to  hold  themselves  up

[  protective  ]  sender  stays  curled  close  even  after  receiver  falls  asleep

[  food   ]  sender  convinces  receiver  to  eat  “just  a  little  more”  with  a  smile

[  stay  still  ]  sender  gently  stops  receiver  from  pushing  themselves  too  hard

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

❝  hey.  i’ve  got  you.  ❞

❝  don’t  rush.  we’re  not  going  anywhere.  ❞

❝  let  me  do  it  for  you,  okay?  ❞

❝  i  know  it  hurts.  i’m  right  here.  ❞

❝  you’re  allowed  to  rest.  i  promise.  ❞

❝  just  focus  on  breathing.  i’ll  handle  the  rest.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  have  to  be  strong  right  now.  ❞

❝  tell  me  where  it  hurts.  i’ll  be  careful.  ❞

❝  i’m  not  leaving  until  you  feel  better.  ❞

❝  i’ll  stay  up  with  you  if  i  need  to.  ❞

❝  it’s  okay  to  lean  on  me.  ❞

❝  shh…  you’re  safe.  ❞

❝  i’ve  got  time.  all  of  it’s  yours.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  have  to  say  thank  you.  ❞

❝  let  me  take  care  of  you.  ❞ 

❝  you’re  doing  really  well.  ❞

❝  i’m  right  here.  breathe  with  me.  ❞

❝  don’t  apologize.  this  is  what  i’m  here  for.  ❞

❝  rest.  i’ll  wake  you  if  you  need  anything.  ❞

❝  even  like  this,  you’re  still  my  favorite  person.  ❞

[beautiful-mischief]

“We can only hope.” Mal mused, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as they came upon the kitchens, empty save for a wizened looking old hob, the longest serving of Hawthorn’s staff, who seemed disgruntled as to the interruption and seemed to have not seen either the faerie lord or his rambunctious new pet. As they continued on, the mortal hummed in thought as Ada proposed a few suggestions as to what they might call him instead; it certainly seemed right to come up with something sooner or later if he was to be staying with them, even if Mal sensed this little bath time escapade might have had his lover questioning the choice to keep the hound in the first place.

“Something like that would be fitting, I suppose — what about…Birch?” He suggested, expression brightening with amusement as he realised the humour in his proposition. “Like the bark! Because he’s a dog, get it?” Cackling at his own jest with his head thrown back in gleeful delight, Mal flashed the seamstress a playful grin. “Not that I think Thorn will find it all that funny. Well, not yet anyway.” Perhaps his optimism was misplaced, but he rather liked to believe that his lover would come to rather enjoy their new addition when the hound had already injected some rather delightful chaos into their days.

“Maybe we should wait here and see if he comes to us?” Mal mused, stopping at the end of the hallway, glancing down each way and then giving a high, melodic whistle, the sound echoing off the ancient stone. “We’ve got you some lovely bacon.” He called, a singsong note to his voice. “Come and get yourself a treat!”

[hearthtales]

Ada gave the hob a polite nod and soft words of apology for the disturbance, relieved the hound hadn’t soaked the hob as well. Had it gone on similar bath-time rampages around Arianell’s palace? Or had its fear of Lady Arianell kept it more timid? So many questions they might never learn the answers to.

Birch. Like the bark… because he was a dog. Such a silly joke, yet Ada couldn’t help giggling. She stifled her laughter with her hand, but her smile showed between her fingers and amusement glimmered in her eyes. “I think it’s wonderful,” she hummed. “Perhaps Lord Hawthorn will find it funnier once he’s dry… and once Birch and the manor are clean.”

Mal whistled and called out to the dog, and Ada held her breath, listening. The ringing echo of his whistle and words hadn’t even faded by the time faint paw-steps rumbled in the distance. Ada’s heart leapt in fear at how quickly the sounds grew louder. Before long, the dog came veering around a corner and hurtled toward them, water still flying behind it.

“Sit, please!” Ada ordered shakily, barely managing to find her voice in time. The hound skidded to a stop before them. Remembering her earlier mistake, she quickly added, “Stay. Please.” The hound stayed. “Good dog,” she breathed, her heartbeat settling.

Panting, the dog gazed between them, sniffed, and stared at the bacon. Its damp tail wagged faster.

[heavensghost]

Very clever people can hear dreams

[beautiful-mischief]

It was quite remarkable just how swiftly the hound had managed to evade them, though the distinct absence of one drenched, bedraggled faerie lord gave Mal the sneaking suspicion that Hawthorn had gone racing after it. Gathering up strips of bacon and toast crusts in one hand, Mal pursed his lips in thought as he eyed the wet paw prints that streaked into the dining room and then out again, in and out of rooms and up and down the corridor beyond — it wasn’t exactly easy to tell which of them were newer and which had marked the dog’s first excitable lap of the keep, but he doubted it could have gotten far.

“Towards the kitchens, perhaps?” Mal suggested, leading the way and keeping out a close ear for the sound of approaching footsteps and the hound’s panting breaths. It occurred to him as they walked that it was a wing of Hawthorn’s home that the seamstress was yet to see, all warm faded stone with ivy creeping through every arched window, the flagstones marked with the imprints of dark, wet paws as they continued on down the corridor. “I wonder if he ended up going outside.” He mused, snickering to himself at the thought; it certainly wouldn’t be difficult when many parts of the castle seemed to be open to the autumn-tinged forest beyond, and he tried not to smile too widely at the thought of his lover being led on a merry chase around the grounds. “The silly thing will probably get itself all dirty again at this rate.”

Huffing a sigh, Mal glanced about, peering through doorways and hoping the smell of bacon might be enough to entice the hound their way. “It would be so much easier if we knew its name.” The mortal observed. “We can’t just shout dog and expect it to come running.”

[hearthtales]

The kitchens. Bacon in hand, Ada continued following Mal, noticing as their surroundings grew unfamiliar. She’d never gone this way before. The stones warmed her feet, her steps turning into light hops at times to keep from smudging the paw-prints leading them. A worried look backward revealed a damp trail in her own wake. Embarrassment flushed her face. Hopefully she would dry off before long.

The hound sprinting back outside in its excitement was a definite possibility, and worry creased Ada’s brow. “Oh, I hope not,” she murmured, glancing through any windows they passed. “He’s got to wear himself out eventually, right?” Uncertainty slipped into her feeble attempt to sound reassuring. The dog’s energy had certainly seemed boundless.

“I’m afraid Lady Arianell never mentioned the dogs’ names. Um, as far as I remember, that is.” Admittedly her memory became spotty shortly before Mal found her in the tea room, after she had pushed Arianell’s patience too far. A dreadful mistake. “They all seemed rather clever, though,” the seamstress went on, forcing herself not to dwell on it and peering around a corner in hopes of spotting fur. “I imagine this one would learn a new name quite quickly.“

She paused, considering, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Perhaps a tree name, to match Lord Hawthorn? Like, umm… Cedar, or Maple, or Aspen…”

[ki-pulse]

    The tea is fine. The Court is not.

    William doesn't consider himself a social butterfly at the best of times. Integrating with fae elite holds little interest beyond why they summoned him in the first place. Yet they seem intrigued by him. Blue eyes used to spotting smoldering embers of matchlock fuses in deep cover have no trouble catching smirks and chitters hidden behind the backs of hands. They don't know what he is and invent their own stories to fill the gap.

    Nothing new. He hasn't caught the M-word yet, but it's coming, he knows it. Brute was used a few times. Philistine. Typical mammal once, perplexing not only in its usage but how it managed to make him angry.

    This place is rancid. Doesn't need antennae to smell that. Which begs a question William can only ask like a sledgehammer, its warning of impending swing the sad look on his face: "Why are you here, Ada?"

[hearthtales]

Ada overheard conversations often around the palace, including those related to William. Rumors and laughter and mocking comments. Protests rose in her throat, but she always swallowed them in the end, too nervous — too cowardly — to defend him even though he had been so nice to her.

She deserved the discomfort these questions brought. But why was he asking? This had nothing to do with him. She didn’t want to answer; she wanted to run. Tensing, she bit her lip and resisted the urge to step backward toward the door of his room, toward escape. Porcelain burned her palms; she placed the teapot down with shaking hands.

Fae blood kept Ada from speaking untruths, but she could still dodge this question in a dozen ways. She could pretend to misinterpret it. She could nudge the topic elsewhere. She could claim she needed to get back to her chores; she always had more chores.

But these options died on her tongue upon seeing the sadness on his face. Her gaze fell, and she fidgeted with the embroidered flowers on her dress. “It’s, um… not a very happy story.” A quiet reply, hoping he would change the subject on his own.

[beautiful-mischief]

For a fleeting moment Mal wondered if the hound had had its fill of mischief, chuckling softly as he watched it trot in happy circles around them, tail wagging and tongue lolling, but alas it seemed it was not quite through with its merry chase. As it went bounding back off down the hall he huffed a soft breath of resignation, smiling and shaking his head at the sound of paws thundering down the stairs — and then the inevitable shout from Hawthorn somewhere down below as the faerie lord was once more beset by dripping wet dog.

“Thorn thinks it’ll only encourage him, but I think it’s probably worth a try.” Mal admitted, inclined towards being amused by the chaos rather than bothered by it; he could see in Ada’s face that she was concerned by all the mess and the veritable chaos that had unfurled, but as ever the mortal shook his head and waved off her apologies. “No, no, I’m glad you were able to rest.” He insisted. “You must have needed it — I’m just glad you’re feeling more yourself now.”

Leading the way down the hall and then down that winding staircase as they began following the hound’s trail, he flashed the seamstress a teasing grin. “At least we might have more hope of calming him down now. He actually seems to listen to you, you know.” As she had mentioned before, he suspected the fact that Ada bore a passing resemblance to Arianell’s lost daughter had something to do with that. “There are still some leftovers in the drawing room, we can take those with us and see if our furry friend can be persuaded.”

[hearthtales]

Hawthorn shouted from downstairs, and fresh mirth bubbled within Ada. She bit her lip to hold back another giggle, but her smile lingered.

Mal was glad she got more rest. Her gaze softened. With a quiet hum of gratitude, she straightened her glasses and tucked damp hair behind her ears. The heavy smell of wet dog filled the air, and her nose wrinkled. At least… the dog was cleaner now. If only it would stay still long enough for rinsing and drying.

But what if chasing the dog angered it? What if it finally lost its patience with them, and then…?

Ada shook her head, shoving her fears to the back of her mind as she hurried after Mal down the stairs. She wanted to help him. She would help him. She just needed to pretend this wasn’t a dog. Simply a dog-sized, dog-shaped creature. One who seemed to listen to her… sometimes. Ada cast Mal a faint smile, clinging to the bright side of resembling Arianell’s daughter. “Ah, I- I suppose you’re right. Hopefully he’ll run out of water to shake everywhere soon.”

Overlapping trails of soggy pawprints marked the hound’s laps around the manor. Some trails looped around the drawing room, though the hound itself had vanished in a remarkable show of talent for such a large dog. Large creature! Not dog. Ada swallowed the lump in her throat and gathered strips of bacon. “Where, um— where do you suppose he went?”

[bestiolin]

lauren frustrated

[hearthtales]

༄ @ki-pulse // ✧

Do you want to be here?

Ada faltered, gaping at William. “I- I, um…” Why did a single question send all her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind? Perhaps because no one had ever bothered asking her before. Realizing she’d hesitated a moment too long, the seamstress clutched the teapot tighter and nodded, regaining her smile. “Ah, yes! Truly, I- I like helping you, so I don’t mind being here. Please don’t worry yourself over me.”

Her brow creased in concern as her gaze flitted to his cup. “Is the tea alright?” she asked gently, wondering if something about the flavor had cast a shadow over his mood. “I can fetch a different drink if you’d like.”

[thesundowncrew]

“I’m, um, a bit hungry,” said the child.

The faerie heard this and was already deciding they would have a picnic out in the grass. In truth, Ophelia didn't want to return to the treehouse just yet. Before she could suggest it, the child looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

“I forgot to pick flowers for our room.”

Ophelia stopped in her tracks, which in turn made Nettie stop walking too. "Oh shooting stars! So did I!" The faerie exclaimed, but with a smile on her lips and a slight laugh to her tone. "Don't worry, we can do that later. The flowers shan't be going anywhere anytime soon~" Ophelia scanned the scenery and pointed to a shaded area nearby. "That'll do! Lets rest here for a bit. Can't do much on an empty stomach now can we?"

It was a cool beneath the shade of the tree, but oh so bare save for the roots and grass. As lovely as the soft grass of Sundown was, Ophelia felt like having something special with her new friend. "Sundown, would you mind if I prepared the accoutrements~?" asked the faerie and the isle, knowing exactly what was on her mind, answered with a joyful breeze.

With a wave of her hand, suddenly in that bare spot of grass grew a large, tree stump - it's top perfectly smooth and splinter-free. Perfect for a table, and it was low enough that neither of them needed chairs. As soon as they sat down, Sundown tickled Ophelia's ears once again and she nodded in understanding. "Now Nettie, Sundown tells me that Sow'in's taught you how to do the magick trick for food. Would you like to do it together?" she asked, already holding up her hands to the level of her eyes.

[hearthtales]

What sort of flowers did Bran like? It troubled Nettie to realize she didn’t know. He rarely talked about himself, preferring to let Nettie chatter about herself and all her favorites instead. She knew he liked the color green, but this didn’t help much when it came to blossoms. She hoped she would still succeed in picking something that helped him feel better.

Ophelia’s cheery voice broke through Nettie’s worries, curiosity bright in the child’s gaze. Shooting stars? Were those a type of flower? The shady spot looked rather bare, but Nettie nodded without hesitation, trusting the faerie wholeheartedly.

Accoutrements. Another addition to Nettie’s mental vocabulary, which had grown with Sow'in’s help reading as well, though she had no idea what this word meant. “Ah-coo… tray…?” she murmured to herself, the pronunciation already escaping her.

Her thoughts scattered again when a tree stump sprouted from the grass, creating a perfect place for a picnic. A little gasp left the child, her eyes alight with wonder. Magic would never fail to amaze her. She ran to sit by the stump and beamed at Ophelia’s suggestion. “Mm-hm!” A joyful hum of agreement. Small hands stained with grass and pollen darted up to cover her eyes. Her requests sounded more confident now that she’d adjusted to this magic trick. “A PB and J sandwich, please! With strawbelly jam, please.” Strawberry, she meant. She had requested the same food many times before; Sundown had likely learned what she meant at this point.

[thesundowncrew]

“I- I bring a message from— from Alderwood Court,” said the meek, little thing.

"Alderwood.." The ghoul pursed his lips, mumbling the name as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. He was far enough that the faerie couldn't hear him, nor see his expression in the dark of the woods. The two figures stayed where they were for now.

It was obvious from the look and state of her that the faerie was nothing more than a messenger. Sow'in knew this and yet couldn't contain his frustration of being disturbed, especially for petty things like alliances or court feuds. Though the ghoul had little interest in the politics of faerie, he knew enough to stay ahead. And he knew of the Alderwood Court.

Still, if Sundown had allowed itself to be found by their messenger, then perhaps it was important. "State your message.. then go."

This time, Ada could hear his voice cut through the mist and the whistling trees as well as the ominous, reverberating whispers that followed.

[hearthtales]

The silence that stretched after Ada’s reply made her heart skip even faster. Had she already misspoken? What did he do to those who offended him? She pressed backward into the gnarled roots, curling her knees to her chest in an effort to vanish altogether.

He spoke again. A tentative exhale of relief escaped Ada, though the whispers sent another chill through her, and she nodded. On second thought, perhaps hiding was rather rude. She pushed herself upright, clutching onto tree roots for support as her weary legs wobbled beneath her like a newborn doe’s, and shakily brushed soil from her patched clothing.

A deep breath. “The, um… the Huntmaster of Alderwood Court seeks your aid in a hunt.” Though her quiet voice still trembled, reciting a message came easier than inventing the words on her own. “A beast has been killing the hunters of Alderwood. Eleven have died so far. The Huntmaster wishes to catch the beast alive before it kills more. So far, it has evaded all manner of tracking or i- identifying.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders; Ada shivered, her grip white-knuckled on her satchel strap. “The— the bounty is rare ingredients h- harvested from the prey of previous hunts. Bones, blood, heart- heartstrings… there are, um, few materials missing from the court’s collection.”

[beautiful-mischief]

In truth Mal had been anticipating more of a struggle from the seamstress, she so rarely seemed to do anything for herself after all, endlessly in search of something to do for someone else, but as she excused herself he found himself content in the knowledge that Ada truly felt comfortable enough in his and Hawthorn’s home to lower her guard and rest a while, hopeful that a few hours more might be enough for her to feel entirely restored — but in the meantime, there was much to do.

~

Another pair of slippers well and truly ruined.

Mal supposed he ought to have seen it coming, bathing a creature as large and gangly as the hound was hardly easy, he just hadn’t expected everywhere to end up so…wet. There were puddles everywhere for one thing, and if not for the late afternoon sun pouring in through the windows he likely would have been shivering from being soaked to the skin by the hound’s affectionate onslaught; it had been hilarious when it had leapt at Hawthorn and drenched him, but currently he couldn’t keep the pout from his lips as he went hurrying after the rambunctious animal, who apparently had gotten so worked up and enthusiastic after its bath that running whole laps of the keep had seemed like a perfectly lovely idea. Gods, there really was water everywhere….

“Oh! There he is!”

Cringing at the sound of his squelching slippers, simply kicking them off as he hurried down the hall towards his room — and a soaking wet Ada, he soon realised — Mal shot the hound a look, standing there with arms petulantly folded. “Now that’s just not fair, drenching poor Ada when she’s just woken up.” He chided, somewhat relieved that it seemed to have settled, if only for the moment. Offering the seamstress an apologetic smile, he gestured with a sweep of his arm to the water-splattered hall. “As you can see, bath time went splendidly.” Leaning in, he couldn’t keep himself from snickering. “You should see Thorn, he got the worst of it.”

[hearthtales]

It was quite impressive how thoroughly the dog had soaked Ada in a single big shake. If only she’d been wearing her old clothing, neatly folded by Mal’s bed, they’d be one step closer to being washed.

Mal’s poor slippers, though. Sympathy creased Ada’s brow when she saw him drenched as well, yet she couldn’t stop smiling either, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle more laughter at his words.

The dog seemed entirely shameless. It trotted in triumphant circles around the duo, tongue lolling from its mouth — then froze and crouched forward with a warning gleam of mischief in its eyes before bolting back down the hall toward the stairs before Mal or Ada could even begin to interfere. Thunderous paw-steps down the steps soon followed.

“Oh, no,” Ada breathed, imagining the chaos in its wake. The dog’s antics had one benefit — surely, given the mess, Mal would allow her to assist. She had resolved herself to help as soon as possible after all the aches and bruises had frayed her strength to resist resting. It had left her feeling rather useless.

“Perhaps, um… perhaps he’ll settle if we offer him treats?” she suggested, wiping the water from her glasses. “If… you haven’t tried that already, that is.” Anticipating Mal might still protest, she added, “I promise I’m feeling better now. I’m sorry for not waking sooner.” She hadn’t the slightest idea how long she’d slept, but an apology felt in order.