Participants: Ariana Bennett (Hannah-Werewolf), Clay Hale (Tapir-Hunter)
Continued From: Sleepless Above and Below
Location: Hartvlinder Mists (Astral Plane)
Summary: When Ariana’s guilt takes her deep into the fog of trauma-eating beings, Clay offers her the choice to go numb.
Content Warning: Memory Loss
Hartvlinder drifted in a thick mist. Each fist-sized mass of tentacle ferns joined thousands of others in feathery fog banks that muffled the outside world. Clay lay in a field of purple nightshade flowers holding a whippoorwill carefully cupped in his hands. The brown-feathered whippoorwill’s warbling whistle sounded out through the belladonna only for the sound to be swallowed up in the Hartvlinder mist.
Clay stayed there in the mist-shrouded fields of deadly flowers without any concept of time, just listening to the whippoorwill. There was no hurry. There was no sorrow. There was no joy. Clay wasn’t sure if lack of turmoil was really the essence of peace, but he was content, or at least could not feel dissatisfied.
Clay looked over his shoulder from where he sat as footsteps rustled through the nightshade field. “Heya …Ariana right? From the…” Clay frowned, dark eyebrows scrunching together as he searched from the memory, but placidity soon smoothed his face back into calm. “The uh…y’know.”
One minute Ari had been running through the familiar patch of brush through the forest and the next she found herself in a disorienting mist. Everything felt just slightly wrong. The ground beneath was not as rugged, the air a little cooler than it had been only moments ago. The smells of the forest had all but faded and she was almost positive she was in another nightmare.
Ari harshly pinched her own forearm only to grimace in pain and realize she was in fact awake. Which meant either she took a very wrong turn or something White Crest was happening. Whatever it was, she guessed it was just happening now and she didn’t have the energy to fight it.
She trudged through the mist as if it was normal and ignored the uneasy feeling. Ari whipped her head around when she heard her name and a familiar voice. “Clay,” she asked stunned, “What are you doing here?” Her eyes tried to make out their surroundings through the mist. “And do you know where here is?”
Clay shook his head. “I’m just …chilling I guess,” the Hunter said with languid uncertainty, as if his purpose for sitting here amidst the nightshade and Hartvlinder swarms had been obvious until Ariana had asked him to actually put it into words. “This is the Hartvlinder fog…I think…like it is, but kinna all…” Clay made a vague wobbly motion with one hand.
The whippoorwill flew out of Clay's hands and soared into the swarms of ephemeral tentacle ferns. Its brown-feathered form vanished, like the outline of a stone sinking into the sea. Only the stochastic whistling that occasionally escaped the floating masses of Hartvlinder proved Ariana and Clay weren’t alone in an island meadow of nightshade.
“What brought you here?”
The explanation only made Ari more confused. The field of nightshade they were in didn’t feel like the forest. It wasn’t something she could quite put her finger on. It didn’t smell right and everything felt muted. Her instincts were fogged by literal fog, not that it made any sense. In White Crest, she learned sense was irrelevant. Sense said they had to still be in the forest, but it felt more and more like that wasn’t true. “Chilling,” she said slowly as she tried to wrap her mind around what Clay could possibly mean. He was a bit cryptic, but she figured that something to do with the heart thing he had mentioned.
“Harvlinder fog,” Ari started as she remembered how clay had framed the whole heart thing, “Like the legend you mentioned, the fog that steals hearts?” It would explain why everything around her felt dulled. Some small part of her mind screamed she should be more alarmed by that than she was. It was enough for her try and figure out a way out. “So,” she asked unsurely, “How do we get out of the fog?”
“Stealing?” Clay shrugged with lackadaisical slowness. “Sure if you walk into the drifts there the Harvlinder might latch on,” he affirmed while gazing into the undulating coils within coils of incandescent floating ferns. It was easy to get lost in those spiraling tentacle fronds, to just let your eyes slide down, around, and deeper along the whorls. “But a lot of people give their hearts willingly, the mist offers a kinna freedom I guess,” he mused in the slothful trailing off of someone who could have put the thought more clearly, but gave up halfway through.``
“You sure you want to leave?”
How could someone make so much sense and none all in the same breath. Ari thought over what he said. There wasn’t a clear answer on how to escape the fog and she felt oddly calm about the possibility. She took a step closer and felt her body conflicted on whether she should just plop down or run. “Stealing… And what happens if the Har- Harv-,” she tried to wrap her head on how the fuck it sounded when Clay said, “What happens if it latches on to you?”
The next part was what really made Ari contemplate accepting the situation. People gave their hearts willingly. Would it really be so bad to not feel the crushing weight of guilt and grief every day of her life? She wouldn’t have to worry about her deteriorating mental health affecting the control she had over shifts outside the moon. “I’m not sure,” she admitted quietly. It was tempting, very tempting and some small bit of logic told her there had to be a catch. There always was. She also knew she deserved the pain she lived with, but what if she could just let it go? “What is it like… not having your heart?”
Clay stayed where he sat among the violet belladonna blossoms, leaning back on his hands as if he were watching a sunset on a hill. “Plants get energy from the sun and whatnot obviously,” Clay said with an air of balanity that belied the extraordinary circumstances. “But Harvlinder take anguish through their squiggy frond things like a plant root would water. Sometimes its small like…embarrassment you felt fucking up a speech way back when or whatever. But,” Clay rolled his head from side to side in an ambivalent moment. “Not always.”
Arianna’s second question drew Clay’s dark eyes up to her, managing to stare his blank gaze away from the claustrophobic horizon of undulating mist. “Uhhhh,” the Hunter’s held dull tone perhaps bore witness in an of itself. “Everything you remember is less intense. There’s no pain, but it can be like paintings with some colors palate missing I guess. Nothing hits as hard,” the soldier confessed, admitting to the true source of his unbreakable bravery. “Which is nice, like it kept going, but uh.”
Clay shrugged again, returning his gaze back to mists. “Used to draw alot as a kid, sketch shit, birds, cars, mountains, and whatnot,” the man said with a tone of apathetic distance from his own experiences. “But when I draw something it's just…,” said the hunter who could never be a Leanan Sidhe’s prey. “Nothing.”
Ari had to listen carefully. She knew it was easy to miss some of the comparisons Clay made, especially seeing as she didn’t get most of the references. Was a creature that fed on anguish and took it away really all that bad? Plants took energy from the sun. Harvlinders took energy from anguish. “I see,” she mumbled as she thought it over, “So they take away your pain, essentially.”
It was too fucking tempting. Ari knew she deserved to feel this hurt. Even going to bed with a more positive mindset after their last chat didn’t stop the dreams. She was haunted and she had to believe there was a reason. If she couldn’t feel the guilt, could she trust herself to care enough to keep control and not hurt others? Would control even be an issue if she couldn’t feel at all? She let her fingers graze through the flowers that surrounded them. Normally, it grounded her, made her feel more connected to the earth, but nothing here could do that. She listened. It was nice. He didn’t feel any of the pain, but colors were duller. Did it matter that she was already colorblind?
The more Clay explained the more Ari could wrap her head around it. It made sense, if you couldn’t feel the pain, you couldn’t feel the other emotions like joy and love. Was that really worse? She supposed she had a first hand source. She let out a quiet sigh and plucked one of the flowers. “Is the feeling nothing worse than feeling the pain?”
Clay laughed, the sound soft and devoid of passion or derision, a lukewarm flicker. “I can feel. I still enjoy things. I still feel all the animal stuff: hunger, thirst, getting hurt,, the endorphin rush after running, and so on,” Clay said, assuming Ariana was worldly enough to extrapolate the other primal experiences without going into them. “But alotta the more mental stuff is still there but uh, not as deep or long lasting I guess.”
Clay watched his companion run her fingers along the deadly violet blooms in their little meadow. Something seemed to knock at the back of his numbed skull. Perhaps outside of this astral reflection, Clay’s morality might’ve recognized that talking about trauma-sapping fern leeches with a young person who’d admitted to guilt-ridden insomnia wasn’t acceptable. But although the facts of the matter were currently in Clay’s head, they didn’t stir up any bigger picture of what was happening, of why his next words might be unwise. “But no. I had a job to do, one that a ton of people’s lives depended on, but I couldn’t keep going as I was. Harvinder let me become who others needed me to be.”
The man who’d finally destroyed his monster, but had been left as less than either at the end of his quest, let out a long breath. “Is there something you wanna give the Harvlinder?”
The easier choice was obvious. Glaringly so. Part of Ari longed to take it, longed to know a single minute of peace again. The option was right in front of her for her to grab if she so chose. Even now as she wrestled with the choice, the different whispers in her head made her feel guilt for even considering it. You’re supposed to be better than this. The problem was, she didn’t feel better than anything. People had died because of her, for her, and what did they have to show for it? A lost, slowly spiraling werewolf with no real direction? The part of Clay’s explanation about being who others needed him to be struck her. There were still people that needed her, even if they shouldn’t, and would she be able to be who they needed if she could no longer truly feel? At least properly. “I get that,” she pondered aloud, “Being who others need you to be. And you feel at peace with your decision?”
Ari wondered if he could even feel peace fully. Clay was thoughtful but had an air of indifference almost. Like things just were what they were. Could she live like that? Could she continue going at the rate she was? The question brought her back from her internal debate. “Oh, I.” she looked down at her hands and tossed away the irritating flowers that left her fingertips itching, “Guilt, I think. My sister died saving me. Two of my friends died because I couldn’t just do what needed to be done and feel like I could live with myself. And I still can’t live with myself, so great call there. I-” She couldn’t even begin to remember the face of the person she mauled during August’s full moon or the fucking tiny fae that made her snap at work.
“I guess I have a lot of shitty memories of loss and I’m always the one left behind, even when it should have been me. But,” Ari let out a long, shaky breath, “I still have people who need me. I don’t know if I can be what they need if I don’t feel it all.” Even if she wanted so badly not to.
“Not really able to feel otherwise,” Clay reminded with a soft smile touched by a thin curve of playfulness at the edge, unable to see anything wrong with his condition other than a touch of humor. As a boy, Clay had been a class clown who saw humor in the basic awkwardness of what it meant to be human. Now, a zombie apocalypse later, Clay’s humor was touched with a bleakness his more innocent self would’ve recoiled at. “But I guess I’m reassured by checkin’ in on the people who were saved, just knowing how they’re doing makes it more tangible I guess,” said the Hunter whose midnight work often estranged him from the sunlit lives of those he was sworn to protect.
Clay waited as Ariana thought through things, neither urging nor dissuading. The whippoorwill’s warbling lilted from the mist, giving life to the nightshade meadow’s unnatural stillness. Ariana made her choice in her own time and Clay nodded without surprise or understanding. “Guess, we gotta get you outta here,” the hunter said as he stood up, dusting dreams of petals and leaves off his jeans.
While the choice was made, Ari couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. Things could have been easier, but part of her knew the easy choice wasn’t necessarily the right choice. Knowing as much didn’t make turning away simple. It didn’t mean she didn’t long to stop feeling this way all the time. She had to remember the people she loved that were still there. Kitty, Kaden, Kyle, Mina, Emilio, Bex– they deserved a friend who could feel their highs and lows with them. She pushed herself up from the patch of flowers she’d been sitting on. With one last resigned sigh, she said, “I guess we do.”
Ari looked around through the midst and tried to gather her sense of direction. Things still smelled dulled somehow, surreal. Somewhere in the midst was a path home, a path to the people she loved and swore to herself she’d do anything to protect. She turned to Clay and asked, “Any chance you know the way out of the midst?”
Clay shook his head. “No, but he does,” the hunter said, pointing to the mist.
The whippoorwill burst from the fog like a salmon jumping in an evening lake, ethereal Harvlinder tendrils trailing off its brown wings. The bird landed amidst the nightshade blooms and looked up at Clay and Ariana with eyes the exact shade as Clay's own. The songbird’s scrutiny was not the furtive attention of an animal, but rather the focus of someone, or something perhaps, attending to their purpose.
“Like, I don’t know how,” Clay admitted, perplexed by the strange sense of unspoken ‘knowing’ that often accompanies events in dreams. “But he does.”
“Who knows,” Ari asked, completely perplexed even as she saw the bird float in front of her. Somehow it only made things even more surreal. She didn’t think this was a dream, it was far too nice even if confusing. What mattered was there was a way out and back to the real world from… wherever this was. She moved closer to her guide and asked earnestly, “Are you coming too?”
Clay and the whippoorwill exchanged another glance in perfect unison. A silent understanding seemed to pass between Hunter and Fylgja. Clay groaned and rubbed his temples as if suddenly suffering the groggy headache of waking up, the first sign of discomfort he’d shown in this numb eye of the Harvlinder drifts.
“Yeah I uh,” Clay’s jaw cracked in a graceless yawn. “Think I have folks out there that need me or ..something. Gotta be somewhere,” he said with groggy uncertainty.
Ari watched as he rubbed his temples and seemed to think over the option. She hoped he followed though she wondered if there was ever any truly escaping the mist for him. He seemed content either way. Or at least not capable of feeling the depth of any discomfort. Part of her couldn’t help but feel sad for him, even in her current ongoing state of lows, she was pretty sure she’d miss the highs. She looked over the field of nightshade with a final grimace. “Off we go then,” she exclaimed, “And, uh, thanks. For this. And for last time too.”
“No problem, I was just …” Clay began, but the lilting mad song of the whippoorwill grew in intensity, rising and falling with a warbling cacophony that swallowed up everything.
So I just finished the first season of "Rapunzel's Tangled Adventures"...
And I'm very surprised this series hasn't found greater popularity than it has. Maybe it's just how they marketed it cuz from the promotional material I saw a couple of years ago I just assumed it was for a pretty young audience (like 6-10 year olds), but guys the writing and character development are friggin fantastic!
And I'm not just taking about the villian's arc (even though that bit is also excellent and some of the best hero-to-villain writing I've seen in a children's program), I'm really impressed with how they wrote Rapunzel in this series. Her naivety and optimism are not presented as character flaws, but they are presented as something she needs to grow and develop from as she matures into a woman.
It's really really neat to see her struggle with uncertainty and indecision; to see her forced to make a choice even when there is no "Right Answer" to the scenario she's in.
I feel like this series took some of the criticism of Disney princess movies to heart and instead of tearing down the tropes, they developed them as characters.
• We've wanted a more mature Disney princess story: they made this one a series, so the princess has the time to grow and develop over the course of it.
• We've wanted a more diverse cast of characters: they went one step further and actually made each of them distinct, memorable, and likable.
• We've wanted a more nuanced and sympathetic Disney villain and oh, boy did they give us a doozy!
Guys, it even has unapologetic singing in it! Like real, old school, Broadway-inspired disney musical numbers. (My only complaint here is that they always seem too short to me)
I also really like the worldbulding and low-key steampunk asthetic it has going on. Like the kingdom of Corona and the surrounding lands were probably once more technologically advanced than they are now, and it's possible to regain that kind of golden age.
My hope for this series is that it continues to develop Rapunzel into a competent and wise leader, that more will be explored of the mysteries of this world and it's characters, and that the villian will get a shot at redemption at some point (seriously by the time you realize he's gonna be the bad guy you understand his motivation so well it's almost painful).
I highly recommend this series if your a fan of old-school disney princess movies, but you do want to see the medium develop some more modern sensibilities in a way that's not cynical or insulting to what came before. This sequel really does bring something fresh, and I can't wait to see more...
