“I really should have, shouldn’t I.” She feels young again, sitting here, in Tissaia’s chambers. A place impervious to time, unchanging through the decades, through the centuries, just like her. Here, time stands still. Here, things are ordered, everything has its place. There is comfort in order, in logic, all cool and calm and collected and quantifiable. This is the dwelling place of the voice of reason, a voice that Philippa desperately needs to hear right now. It is not easy, to speak about it, but the words are suffocating her from inside, so damn loud in the confines of her skull, she needs to get them out, out out out, anything but to be forever alone with those damn thoughts.
The sorceress wraps her arms around herself, hangs her head as she stands by the window, her gaze is cast down, towards the churning waters. She can’t bear to look to the skies. “She was just… gone. I was here, remember? Remember me telling you all about her, about how happy I was, how much things made sense for once?” A bitter laugh that catches in her throat. “When I returned to Tretogor, she was gone. Left me this.” A piece of parchment, brittle where it has been folded and unfolded time and time again is produced, held out with something that is almost tenderness. “She left me this. Go on, read it, or else I’ll recite it to you, not as if I don’t know it by heart.” Her brow furrows, her eyes trailing a flock of seagulls now, flying low, their wings almost skimming the tumultuous waters. “I thought she understood me, you know. Like, really understood. But she didn’t understand at all. If she had she would have known exactly why I do as I do.” She turns away from the view, leaning up against the cold stone wall, solid and reassuring in this embarrassing moment of weakness. “I just want her back.”
“i was here,” tissaia confirms. instead of sighing, she takes in a breath and looks down at the piece of paper in her lap. “and you will remember what i said.” what i warned you about. we don’t let anyone make sense of things for us. how many times now? philippa is driven by the senseless need to repeat the same mistake until… until what? until she gets it right according to her own standards which, really, aren’t standards at all but fleeting whims suiting the mood of the moment or whatever took her fancy for a day?
tissaia reads the note, arches a brow. such sentimentality. of course it got to her. philippa’s heart is clay in the right hands. following the lines, her fingers fold and press the letter, smooth it over. “the writing is adequate.” she glances in her direction then pauses to gaze at her clearly shaped out silhouette against the light pouring into the room. a clear cut image. the irony. “well, that’s regrettable,” she adds when philippa turns away from the window. though what ‘that’ is remains unclear.
her hands fold neatly on her lap, cautious of not touching the paper as if its very contents might contaminate her. for a moment, she looks away and does not speak, making sure her mind remains impervious to any gleaning. she needs to organise her thoughts, to put some sort of order into them before words can come, before sentences can be stringed together to offer what philippa needs - and there is a world between what she needs to hear and what she wants to hear. because she does want to hear something. she came here. she shared. she confided.
her gaze veers away from the hearth by which she is sat and falls on philippa. philippa, a raw, exposed nerve responding to any stimulus tissaia gives. she knows. they both do. she could be so much more. she has to be so much more. if only the pride she feels when her mind is invaded by the thought of her best student could be placed into philippa and guide her. “you don’t need her back.” not her, not any of the others.
“you’re a sorceress, philippa. this is below you, this is below everything you are and stand for. what really upsets you? that you weren’t the one to walk away or that you didn’t see it coming once again?”
It begins to rain. Slowly first, a drop here and there, then faster, driven by the wind that has steadily picked up intensity. The waters below change colour, their deep blue now a murky grey, churning and crashing against the cliffs. The gulls still flit about, their wings spread wide, rising and dipping madly, riding the storm with a fierce, defiant joy.
Philippa lifts her gaze, fascinated by the view once more, raising her left hand with melancholic grace. The windowpane is cool against her fingertips as she follows the silverbright trail of the raindrops, fingers skipping over the cool surface left and right, erratic. In this moment, she is all but defenseless, and she can’t even find it within herself to care about it. “Does it matter how many times?” Faces flash before her eyes, the echo of voices rings in her ears, scraps of reminiscence, sweetness turned bitter.
She scrambles to conceal what she can, to at least attempt to salvage her dignity, veiling her memories in fog and darkness.
Do you absolutely have to do that? It’s quite distasteful, you know.
“If you’re so interested in the details, you could have just asked me. I would have appreciated that.”
Her fingers twitch with irritation, her eyes dark and stormy, a reflection of the sky. As above, so below. As without, so within. Philippa shifts her weight again, her gaze fixed on the letter, wondering if she is expected to ask for it back or whether it will be freely offered. This feels shameful, like getting caught passing notes in class.
I know, I know. Mages should not lower themselves to the level of the common folk, I know.
“But she made me feel alive. She made me happy, and I thought I did the same for her. I thought she understood, even though she could not have, and, well- ”
A dismissive gesture, an impatient tug at the fabric of the universe at which the letter is lifted up into the air as if caught by a breeze, floating gently across the room back into Philippa’s hands.
“Turns out she did not understand at all.”
She unfolds the paper only to immediately fold it again as her mind recalls every word, every hurt, like picking a scab to find that the wound beneath it has begun to fester.
“You are right, I don’t need her.”
The sorceress turns, all of a sudden energetic, lit up from inside with power. The window flies open, bringing in a gust of chill air that tugs at her hair, tempting her to take flight, to leave her body behind for a while. Cool raindrops on her skin.
“I don’t need her,” she repeats, flinging the letter out of the window. It is carried upwards, disappears from view.
But I want her. I want… I don’t know what I want!
“I thought I knew, but I don’t. All I know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore. This wretched heartache. I can’t stand it.”
“it doesn’t matter in the least,” tissaia agrees, choosing to ignore the blatant rhetoric in her question. “but it beggars belief that you could keep on falling down the same trap.” or tripping over yourself. yes, perhaps that is a better way to phrase it.
from her vantage, she watches philippa rooted to the spot by the window, unable to find peace, unable to piece herself together again. a sigh escapes her. ghosts from another life, a long, long gone century where the same sorceress scratching herself bloody also stood there, aimless and restless and desperate to find what had been within her reach the entire time. i could ask. she sits back when the letter is risen in the air and gently carried across the room, back to its owner. i could ask if i trusted that you would answer. like most things where philippa is concerned, the truth has many faces.
“of course she did not understand, philippa.” and though she is now scolding her as if she were a mere apprentice all over again, her tone has lost its edge. “they can never understand. you simply wanted her to.” her mind is instantly sealed when the first thought of lara crosses it. her name, her face. time never heals. not completely. she pushes through the dull ache threatening to turn more acute then springs to her feet when a gust of wind rushes into her office.
“my papers!”
in two strides, she is on her desk, her palm facing the draft of cool air to repel it while the other hastily places what will serve as paper weights on various piles of various sizes. when the documents have been salvaged, she fixes her hair, dusts non-existent dust off her dress. “you certainly haven’t lost your flair for the theatrics.”
it isn’t until she looks up that tissaia realises she expected to find an owl perched on the windowsill - or having already taken flight. and it unsettles her to find that she is grateful, relieved even, that philippa has decided to stay though she cannot reconcile whether what sounds like a mantra is something she truly believes.
“you do know what you want.” you’ve always known what you wanted. you hadn’t even mastered thought transference that you knew what you wanted. stubborn, strong-headed, impossible child.
she rounds the desk, comes closer, looks out of the window. though neither of them speaks, the silence is filled by the sound of the storm at sea, that of the wind whistling through the ajar window. quite befitting the moment. “you want more than what this entanglement would have offered. you want to be great.” a half smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “and you can be great, philippa.” tissaia turns her head to look at her. “no one, nothing is standing in your way. only yourself.”
her gaze lowers then veers towards the sea again. she breathes in, tastes the salt on her tongue. in some ways, philippa still has so much to learn; in others, there isn’t anything tissaia can do or say. worse yet, the younger mage might take it as an offense, at best, a challenge, at worst. it’s a tug of war - always has been.
“we’re bound to solitude,” she adds after a while. it drops, a soft-spoken reality that sounds very much like a confession. “it is human to long for a connection, for someone but…” the sentence is left unfinished. outside, the waves are gaining in intensity but she no longer hears them crashing against the rocks. in the white foam receding before being forced back against the cliff, the ghost of an elf dances.
SETTING: Molly's apartment in downtown WR
TIMING: immediately after this
PARTIES: @mollyhiatt and @danielabrams
WARNINGS: mild injury & blood mention, emotional vulnerability, wrspice
SUMMARY: Molly and Daniel have just left Another Castle after getting sucked into a game of frogger. They're exhausted, soaking wet, and are riding an adrenaline high. Molly helps Daniel dress his wound from an alligator bite. They talk and talk some more and then (finally) kiss and .. well.. yeah!
Let me just grab a few things from my truck. Daniel had agreed to accompany Molly back to her apartment. Now it was real. A few seconds ago it had just been an offer - one that Molly kind of thought that Daniel might refuse given the long evening they’d just had but she was happy to invite him back. And nervous, so nervous.
Inviting someone new into her space was something that was still difficult for Molly to comprehend. Upon her move to Wicked’s Rest she had created a sanctuary all her own. When she’d moved into her apartment with Roger all those years ago she curated a space that fit them and that space had become hers. But when things had ended Molly had realized that it wasn’t her style of space at all. Now she was inviting someone new to see her place, a place she’d curated to fit her cozy, cottagecore vibes. And Ophelia. Molly had never had a pet before but at the recommendation of her family and therapist she’d adopted the black cat as a companion just before her move. Molly was thankful for her. That dear cat had heard so many soliloquies and had overseen the consumption of so many solo glasses of wine.
Tonight, that cat was going to meet a mountain man. “Great!” Molly finally spoke, energy buzzing beneath her skin at the idea of it all. “Yeah, we can drive or you can leave your truck here if you’d like. It might be more work to move it, but it’s up to you.” It would only take them five or so minutes to walk to her place so she didn’t want Daniel to put in any extra effort if he didn’t need to.
After several minutes, minutes consumed with making their way to Molly’s apartment and retrieving items from Daniel’s truck, Molly was surprised to find her fingers fumbling the tiniest bit with her apartment keys. She’d managed to keep hold of her purse throughout their escapade and everything had been intact. Well, mostly. She hadn’t bothered to check her phone yet. It was probably okay but she had planned to sacrifice the box of rice in her pantry upon her arrival home - it wasn’t like she had plans to cook the rice on her own anyway. “This is me.” She said as they entered the building and then climbed the stairs to her unit.
Finally she’d managed to get a sturdy hold on her key and with ease Molly used it to unlock the front door to her apartment. A lamp left on illuminated the entry way and living room on the right, basking the room in a soft, welcoming light. A strand of fairy lights framed the entry to the kitchen on the left. The entire room still smelled of the Farmhouse Pumpkin candle she’d been burning earlier in the evening prior to leaving. Molly held the door open for Daniel and then left her keys and purse on the thin table against the wall in the entry way and she slipped out of her ballet flats. The ceramic tile was cool against the skin of her feet.
“Make yourself at home.” She told him. “I can show you where the bathroom is, I have a few extra first aid supplies, too.” Though Daniel seemed much more equipped with his own kit from his truck. Molly only had a few essentials. As she moved deeper into her apartment she spotted Ophelia still snoozing on the couch atop her favorite throw pillow.
—
Daniel was glad that their evening wasn’t going to end just yet. They would have time to get to know each other more—in a way where they weren’t trying to survive some nonsense. He figured she probably needed something more relaxing after the start of their evening. They stopped by his truck so he could grab his kit along with a change of clothing. His truck had everything he could ever need as he always wanted to be prepared. A change of clothing would be much welcomed after moving around in heavy wet jeans and a flannel.
He didn’t think too much about the idea of going over to Molly’s place. He’d been over to plenty of dates’ places—in his twenties, sure, but still. There were some nerves about being over at her place, somewhere private, but his mind was still focused more on taking care of his scratch, getting out of his wet clothes, and getting to know her better. He also found it interesting seeing how people’s homes looked. He lived in a camper and tents for so many years that he was intrigued to see how people decorated actual homes.
Daniel followed her into her building and trailed behind her as he followed her through the building. He only lived in an apartment building once, years and years ago, when he used to live with an ex of his. Apartment living was never meant for him. He disliked knowing that people lived all around him—below, above, left, right. It unsettled him in a way that he couldn’t explain. He preferred having space between him and others. Even at the campground, he kept his camper in the far corner away from others, and even if people stayed at the spot next to his, there was still a bit of distance. The distance was everything to him.
As he stepped into the apartment, he noticed how much it felt more like a home. He never really bothered with making his camper feel homely. There was never time for that when he moved so often. His truck hauled his little pop-up camper all across the east coast during his tracking. Things jostled around in the camper and broke, so there wasn’t any need to make it look certain ways. His place was all about function and utility rather than comfort. Daniel found it fascinating when he saw how other people curated their spaces for their living environment. Each place told him a lot about the person. He was certain that even his space said a lot about who he was.
“Thanks,” he said. “Cute place you’ve got.” That seemed like an appropriate compliment. “Bathroom would definitely be nice. I gotta get outta all this.” His eyes scanned more of the space. He heard a purring sound and looked towards her couch where he spotted a cat. He smiled softly towards it. When Daniel was growing up, his father had two coonhounds for hunting. He grew up around other hunting breed dogs in the holler, but he always liked those two dogs. He never had any pets besides those two dogs. “What’s your cat’s name?”
—
“Oh, thank you.” Molly replied. She had been proud of the little space she had created for herself. When she was married Molly had been able to sprinkle things of her own throughout her apartment but Roger had a more minimalist taste. Molly had chosen to appease him and forgo things she might’ve otherwise chosen for her own space. It hadn’t bothered her much at the time, in fact she’d convinced herself that maybe his taste was hers too.
That turned out to not be the case. Molly had quite the interest in trinkets and cozy cottage-like decor. She’d taken up cross stitching in her time since the move and three of her projects hung on the wall by the door. One was a small dagger wrapped in ivy, one was a lily of the valley, and the other was a short quote from Anne of Green Gables. There were books stacked in corners and candles left about. A mug from tea she’d made earlier to calm her nerves sat on the coffee table across from the couch. It was cozy and lived in. It suited Molly well.
“That’s Ophelia.” She said, watching the cat stir softly in her sleep. “From Shakespeare’s Hamlet.” Did it make her sound like a dork for being a theatre person who named her pet after a character? “I adopted her just before I moved here.” She explained, “My sister said it would help to have someone to take care of.” Grace had turned out to be right and a few weeks ago she’d thanked her for the suggestion. Molly had spent nearly every night for the last year until recently alone and those dark nights were made just a little better thanks to Ophelia.
Molly noticed Daniel smiling towards Ophelia and found herself smiling in return. He was handsome when he smiled, she thought. Then she remembered why they were there in the first place now. “Bathroom, right.” Molly nodded. “It’s this way.” She gestured to the door that was ajar. “There are extra towels on the shelf next to the sink. Feel free to shower if you’d like. And I can help you,” Her face blushed furiously as she realized what she’d just said, “I mean I can help you with your arm, if you’d like. Not with the shower, obviously. You’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.” Now she wanted to disappear into her room for the night and not come back out. “I have an antiseptic cleaner in the medicine cabinet above the sink and a box of bandages, there might be some gauze in it.” If it hadn't been for her stupid comment about the shower she’d have led him into the bathroom to show him but he was also perfectly capable of finding the supplies on his own with direction.
“I’m going to make us both a drink.” She needed a brief distraction. And maybe she’d open the screen to the balcony door to let in a breeze. She could go for a cool breeze to cool herself down right about now. With that, she turned on her heel and turned the corner to disappear into the kitchen, exhaling slowly when she was out of sight.
—-
“Ophelia. Cute.” He watched the cat move around a little bit. “So that’s because of your whole directing and theater work, yeah?” Daniel remembered talking a little bit about that on their hike. He didn’t always remember things about most people (especially names), but he recalled quite a bit from their hike. He nodded along as he listened to her speak. He looked away from the cat and back around the apartment itself, noticing all the trinkets everywhere. “Sounds like solid advice from your sister.” He wouldn’t mind having a pet—preferably a dog—himself, but his lifestyle didn’t allow for that. He would never have time to take care of a dog, or any other type of pet. Sometimes he was gone for up to a week on a backpacking trip. Plus, he wouldn’t want an animal in his small camper.
Daniel’s eyes followed along her arm as she gestured. His gaze trailed away from her arm to the bathroom door. “Great,” he said softly. As she continued speaking, he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at her. He placed a hand over his mouth to cover up the smile that came across his face at the idea of her helping him shower. His hand rubbed along his chin as she kept going, and he saw her face turn red. “Right, I mean if…,” he trailed off and thought about if he should even finish his thought. He was so tempted to suggest that if she needed to clean off from their whole ordeal, she could hop into the shower too. He didn’t want to be that bold the first time he was over at her apartment though. “If you need to shower first, I can wait. Take turns. You still got some mud on you.” Smooth recovery.
But now he was thinking about her showering. And then her showering with him. His eyes trailed over her body before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat and glanced away, back towards the things around her apartment. His eyes landed on the dagger cross-stitch. That actually didn’t help him with his thoughts. He looked around a bit more and focused his eyes on something else. Daniel wanted to keep his thoughts in check. He shouldn’t do anything with Molly. Not today, at least. That’s what he told himself. Sure, he’d been flirty with her, and he was certainly thinking about her in a certain way. But he convinced himself a few years ago to keep himself shut away from others or else there’d be too many questions. He really didn’t want to feel her fingers tracing the scars scattered across his body and asking about them. Now he was thinking about her hands, so he really needed to pull himself together. With a cold shower.
“A drink sounds good,” Daniel agreed. He glanced down at her as she turned around and walked away. He looked up at the ceiling, rolled his eyes at himself, and shook his head. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. Maybe he should’ve just taken care of his arm in his truck. He’d done it many times in the past, so it wouldn’t have been any different.
—-
“Yeah, I supposed it is.” It was a little too on the nose that Molly had chosen a character’s name for her pet. “Though I’ve been a fan of Shakespeare since high school. I was one of the girls who was giggling and kicking her feet while reading the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet, and was crying at the end. I hate a miscommunication trope.” It was kind of a joke but Shakespeare really was ahead of his time with that one.
Had Molly gotten a sense that Daniel was actually entertaining the thought of a shower together? In addition to her face, she was sure that her neck beneath her sweater was bright red as well. It really did feel hot in her apartment now. “No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind waiting while you go first.” And that only made her think more about him showering. God, she’d go for it if she were brave enough. Wait, no! She scolded herself for going there. This was the second time they’d met, she couldn’t - they couldn’t.
As she reached the sink Molly waited for the water in the tap to warm to the hottest setting before scrubbing her hands. They were a little shaky as she tried to cool her thoughts about Daniel and him being in her apartment right now - and showering. Again. Then she switched to the cold water and splashed some on her face. Molly felt a rush from the cold water and sent up a silent prayer to the universe that it would help. Then she was quick, grabbing the bottle of Chattanooga Straight Bourbon Whiskey and two rocks glasses from her bar cart. Right now Molly needed it neat and figured Daniel might too. Within two minutes of disappearing she was back around the corner, a glass in each hand. She offered one his way. “I hope you like it neat.” As she spoke she raised her glass to cheers to him. “To one of the weirdest adventures I think I’ve ever had.” And with that, she went ahead and downed the liquid, grateful for the distraction of the warming sensation as she did so.
—
Daniel decided that Molly was probably much smarter than him—what, with all her schooling and university teaching. He read a lot of books, but he didn’t ever pay attention in high school to his English teachers. He only ever paid attention to his science classes. He knew about Shakespeare, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He also had no idea what a trope was. He just knew that he liked reading and seeing how the story played out. Sometimes he picked up on themes. He really didn’t know what she was talking about with Romeo and Juliet. He was having another one of those moments of slight regret with his life. Where he wished that he could have attended university. But at the end of the day, he knew that he would have gotten so bored sitting in a classroom learning stuff. Daniel needed to be outside, hunting beasts and protecting humans.
So instead he just smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ve always heard that Romeo and Juliet is heartbreaking. I just know that it’s a play.” He really couldn’t offer much more than that.
As Molly’s skin turned redder from her blushing, Daniel’s grin turned a little bigger. He kept his hand on his face as she spoke. “If you insist. Sure, yeah, I can go first. I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” he teased. “It’s a shower. Can’t be difficult.” His mind still wandered to thoughts about her getting into the shower with him, but for so many reasons, he knew that wouldn’t be happening. But he could still joke around, right? Make a few playful jokes and watch as a blush appeared across her pretty face.
Once she returned with the drinks, he accepted a glass and held it up for cheers with her. Neat was definitely good for him. “Cheers. To a weird adventure.” Daniel watched Molly down her whiskey, so he did the same. He would have slowly sipped on it through the night, but he could maybe have more than one drink tonight. He’d be fine. He usually kept to just one or two drinks because he liked to stay aware of his surroundings. Alcohol made that more difficult. But they were in her apartment now, and he wasn’t picking up on anything dangerous here.
He cleared his throat and glanced over to the bathroom door. “Gonna shower real quick though. These jeans are still soaked.” Daniel went into the bathroom so he could clean off after their adventure. He also needed a bit of space away from her. Not because he didn’t want to be around her, but he wanted to get some of his thoughts back together. As he stood in the bathroom, he had to hold back a laugh. Sometimes he forgot how ridiculous his life was. He hadn’t showered in a bathroom in a home in many years. Always bathrooms at campgrounds or truck stops. Sometimes even a random body of water. Daniel had become so accustomed to his lifestyle that standing in her bathroom made him feel a little nuts. It also made him realize just how much he couldn’t tell her about himself. He would sound very strange if he admitted to living in a camper for around seven or so years.
He quickly showered though. In cold water. He needed the cool water against his skin after thinking so much about Molly showering. He changed into his dry clothes (sweatpants and a metal band t-shirt), glad to be out of the wet jeans and flannel. Daniel checked some of the other medical supplies that she told him about, but he decided that he really didn’t need any of that. He had plenty in his own first aid kit. He sat on the edge of the bathtub to fix himself up, but he thought about her rambling away about the shower earlier. She had mentioned that she could help him with his arm. He was perfectly capable of taking care of that himself—he’d done it plenty of times before, and he could already tell that this probably wasn’t going to leave a scar. He wasn’t at all worried about it, so he could maybe play into that a little bit. Let her get close to him again.
Daniel stepped out of her bathroom. “Uh, I’m finished in there,” he said. “I’m sure you probably want to get cleaned up too. Who knows what was in that weird water, yeah? Maybe help me out with this … scratch too.” It was definitely more than a scratch, but, again, it wasn’t a worry for him.
—
Molly was grateful that Daniel was agreeable to showering first. Not that she needed to do any tidying in her already pretty tidy apartment, cleaning was a nervous habit of hers so she was certain that she could find something to clean. It was also a great distraction - at least it had been up to this point. Molly had never really needed to distract herself from her own thoughts like this about someone. This was totally new territory for her. And she knew the blush across her face only deepened as he continued to joke about managing to figure out how to shower here. Damnit, she thought to herself.
“Help yourself to whatever you need in there.” She offered again, taking his glass and turning to head back to the kitchen as Daniel disappeared into the bathroom. Molly was glad that she had cleaned it earlier - not that it really needed the cleaning because she already did that weekly, but still.
Once he was out of sight she placed their glasses on the counter in the kitchen next to the bottle and then slipped down the hall to her bedroom. She pulled the door ajar behind her and grabbed clothes for herself for after she got out of the shower and thought to herself that she couldn’t wait to slip out of her current wet clothes that still clung to her like shrinkwrap. Then she realized that she could do just that right now. One of her bath robes hung on the back of her door. After selecting leggings and her favorite worn grey sweatshirt with NYU in a faded purple across the front, Molly peeled her wet clothes away and slipped into her plush, baby blue robe, careful to avoid the now dried bit of mud that lingered on her neck. She’d wash the robe tomorrow just in case.
As she closed the robe around her and tied a knot in the belt securely around her waist she heard Daniel’s voice. And realized that she had just slipped into a bath robe without thinking. Nice. Molly had gotten so used to living alone that for a brief moment she’d forgotten that she wasn't. And that there was a man using her shower. Now she was blushing again and an electric feeling seemed to buzz beneath her skin, like electricity through a powerline. Shaking off the feeling would be useless, and maybe she didn’t want to rid herself of it right now. It was kind of fun to feel this new found nervous excitement. Molly grabbed her clothes and made her way back towards the bathroom, meeting Daniel. “You’re right about that. I don’t even want to think about what might’ve been in that water.” A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Then he mentioned his arm again, “Oh! Yeah,” Her eyes fell to the gash on his arm. “If that’s your definition of a scratch I’d hate to see what you consider a fatal wound to look like. Come here.” She darted past him to get into the bathroom, tossing her change of clothes onto the towel rack.
Then she retrieved the antiseptic from the mirrored cabinet. “I, uh…” When she turned to face him she reached for his arm. It didn’t look horrible but it also didn’t look like it felt good. And the sight of it did bring a wave of lightheadedness over Molly but she blinked a couple of times to will the feeling away. She could tell that she was a little pale now but it was a welcomed change from the blush that had seemed to paint itself permanently across her skin this evening. It was threatening to break through again now that her hand gently held his arm to examine the wound more closely.
“Damn, that thing really got you. And there’s no telling what kind of bacteria you’ll find in the mouth of a video game alligator..” As she spoke she grabbed a clean cloth and dabbed it with a bit of the liquid antiseptic “Do you mind? This shouldn’t sting but it might not feel comfortable.” Though hopefully it wouldn’t feel as bad as the bite itself. “You can sit if you want.” Now Molly was more aware than ever of how close they were. Her bathroom wasn’t exactly big but she was always alone in it so she’d never really considered just how tight the space really was. Another drink might be necessary to help calm her nerves after this.
—
As Molly walked back in his direction, Daniel’s eyes looked her up and down, immediately noticing that she was wearing a bathrobe. For some reason. Maybe he should have just taken care of his wound by himself. He couldn’t really blame her for changing out of her wet clothing. He would have done the same if he had to wait around for someone else to shower first. And when he thought about it, it made perfect sense for her to change into a bathrobe rather than some other clothes. He wasn’t going to think too much about it.
He was about to say that he’s had worse than this, but he kept his mouth shut as he followed her back into the bathroom. Daniel stood behind her, keeping his eyes focused elsewhere as she reached for supplies in the cabinet. He thought he would be fine having her tend to his arm, but he really didn’t expect her to be wearing only a bathrobe. When she took his arm in her hand, he watched her face react to being so much closer to the wound. Maybe he really should have just done this himself. But she seemed to recover from the initial shock. Daniel reminded himself that most people didn’t see this kind of thing as often as he did. He had been up close and personal with plenty of wounds—many much, much worse than this one—that it no longer phased him. He’d seen people killed in front of him (including … no, he wouldn’t think about that). A gash in his arm was nothing in comparison to what he’d seen in his life. But from what he could guess, Molly had probably never seen something like this.
Although Daniel thought again about the bite on her neck. She might have a bit more experience than he knew.
“Yeah, video game alligators could have all sorts of mysterious, unknown bacteria,” he joked. He nodded his head. “Don’t mind none. Got a high pain tolerance.” He didn’t think he really needed to point that out last bit, as that probably came across as obvious by now. Or maybe his stupidity came across as obvious. Either one. Daniel sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He left enough room so she could sit next to him if she preferred to be seated. “If you need, I can take over though. I’ve done this sort of stuff before.” He cleared his throat. “Just, you know, search and rescue stuff. Find people in all sorts of conditions after they go missing.” Not a lie. He sometimes joined search and rescue missions, and he always had to be prepared to find people in any type of condition in that type of work. He wasn’t technically qualified like the people who worked those missions, but they sometimes liked to have local guides or wilderness experts help with missions—people who really knew an area. And that’s where he came in. “Don’t want you feeling weird about it. I guess it’s worse than I thought.” It wasn’t, but he kept in mind how it looked for a normal human.
—
Molly could sense Daniel’s worry for her and didn’t even need to look at his face to know that he was maybe second guessing asking for her help. But Molly would be fine. She had only seen worse once, and recently but she wasn’t going to think about that right now. It felt complicated in this moment. Other than that time, there was a night when Roger had injured his hand while making dinner. Molly had fainted that time and had moved to the couch after she came to, pressing an ice pack to her sternum to help regulate her blood pressure and heart rate again. It was a trick she’d learned early on when she discovered her reaction to injuries.
“Mysterious and unknown is an understatement.” Molly joked as she took a seat next to Daniel on the edge of her bathtub. Once she was seated the robe fell away to reveal a little too much of her thigh than she had intended. Then again she had never really needed to worry about how much she was revealing beneath the robe before because she was usually very alone when she wore it. Her heart rate increased again, completely unrelated to the wound. Well, not completely because obviously she was seated so close to him right now because of it but still. In an effort to distract herself, she decided to tag onto the search and rescue conversation.
“I can imagine that’s a difficult job, having to assist with search and rescue. I’m sure you’ve seen much worse. Hopefully nothing too recent here in Wicked’s Rest.” Though perhaps that was just that, a hope. From what Molly had encountered and what she’d heard about the State Park after their walk there, she feared that it wasn’t the safe place she’d felt it had been on their walk. Now she realized that she had just felt so safe because of the person was with. As she spoke she gently pressed the cloth to the gash. “I’m okay, though. I don’t mind.” And she shook her head. “I don’t really take care of injuries. But I have made calls for incidents at the theatre before. I’m not the best up close and personal with the injury but I keep a level head in a crisis a little too well.” Molly was highly emotional but there was something about an adrenaline rush that put her into work mode when she’d otherwise rather panic herself. “I once led a partially full audience out of a theatre mid-show with ease during a fire scare.” Yes, talk of work would keep her mind from wandering right now. And her busy hands against his wound would keep her from tugging at the robe, drawing further attention to the current situation.
—-
Daniel’s eyes followed her as she sat down next to him. He watched as part of Molly’s robe revealed her thigh, and he really started thinking that he should have just taken care of this by himself. He looked away, not wanting to think too much about the idea of his hand on her thigh. He felt relieved as she continued talking about search and rescue work. That could keep his mind more preoccupied. But he kept his eyes focused on his arm, watching her fingers and hands move as she tended to him.
“Just done a couple around here,” he answered. “Nothing crazy though.” Yeah, not really that crazy for him at least. He always heard about the many missing people in the state park, but he wasn’t as involved with those. People went missing a lot in this town. But he really didn’t want to freak her out too much about that. He could easily talk about other places farther from here, but maybe here was a little too close to home.
“You’re doing good so far,” he said as he watched her press the cloth against his arm. “But seriously, let me know if I need to take over at any point.” Daniel wasn’t going to give up on this. He may have offered to let her take care of him, but he still believed that he should handle his own problems. The back of his mind told him that it was a weakness to let someone else do this for him. And that part of himself refused to be quiet in this moment.
“Yeah, you are good at staying calm in a crisis,” Daniel complimented. “I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. I’m sure you did great with any on-set injuries and fire safety.” He meant his words too. He watched how she moved through their predicament. She didn’t freak out like some people may have. He appreciated when people followed along with whatever plan he had in mind. She stayed collected even in an odd situation. Of course he worried about her the entire time, but Molly impressed him with how she handled herself. “I mean, you knew how to jump from the backs of turtles onto logs,” he said, a bit of humor in his voice. Seated in her bathroom in a normal environment, those words sounded even more ridiculous. It was hard to believe they went from a weird video game life or death situation to sitting on the side of her bathtub. “That’s real impressive, if I say so myself.”
—
“That’s good to hear.” Molly responded quietly, eyes briefly meeting Daniel’s before focusing on the wound again. She sensed that he might’ve just been saying that so she wouldn’t worry about his safety or the safety of anyone else while out in the state park and for now it was working. She was too focused on tending to his wound and keeping upright to give the park another thought.
As Daniel complimented her she smiled, not taking her eyes away from his arm this time. “Thanks, and I’ve got it.” She wondered if it was difficult for him to accept assistance with something like this. From what Molly had gathered she figured he was very independent and she understood. Even for Molly, who had lived her entire life with someone else up until last year, it was a challenge to let someone else care for her. Though Roger loved Molly he wasn’t exactly nurturing. Molly learned how to nurse her own wounds. “I promise to let you know if I need you to take over.”
She removed the cloth from his arm and rose slowly, reaching towards the sink. Molly carefully rinsed the cloth with warm water, washing her hands again in the process, and returned to her seated position on the edge of the tub next to him. “Yeah, I’ve had a bit of practice.” She explained, carefully pressing the cloth to his wound again to clean the edges around the gash. Molly hadn’t always been good in a crisis. Once in college she felt like she’d caused a meltdown between two other performers while working on their winter finals because of her lack of emotional stability. A few minor incidents that followed had her realizing that she had to keep her own emotions bottled up under pressure. If she didn’t it just seemed to worsen the situation for everyone involved.
“Though I can’t say I’ve ever done anything remotely close to what I did today, obviously.” With that she laughed, “I don’t know where that confidence came from. I mean, I guess it came from you.” Her gaze rose to meet his own now, “I really think I would’ve died in that stupid game if it weren’t for you. Watching you,” Honestly watching Daniel navigate those obstacles with ease was hot to Molly. Roger was honestly bad under pressure - and Molly hated that she made that comparison but he was all she had to compare to. “Just the way you immediately sprung into action and almost made a game out of it for yourself to get through. I really admire that ability.” Not to mention the attention he’d paid to Molly to ensure her safety. “You took a bizarre situation and made the most of it, as wild as that feels to say. It was kind of amazing” And hot. Now she felt like she was just rambling, and she was still staring. Her hand had paused, the warm cloth still resting against his skin. The wound was clean now, or as clean as Molly was going to get it right now. After another second she realized that she had stopped tending to the wound and broke her stare. “Okay, I think it’s clean. I can help you undre-,” Damnit, “I mean dress the wound.” She corrected quickly, cheeks bright pink now. “But you may have more experience with that part and do a better job than I can so I might let you take the lead now.”
—
“Alright,” he said with a nod of his head. Daniel needed to take a moment to just let her take care of his arm for him. It felt wrong to him to let someone else tend to him. He just needed to take a breather and get over himself. But that was easier said than done. He forced himself to watch her hands as she tended to him. If he could think about something else, then maybe he could take his mind away from how he could just do this himself. But he also didn’t want his thoughts to wander too much. He needed them to stay in check.
He looked up as she moved to the sink. His eyes trailed down the length of her legs before focusing on the floor. He should stare at the floor, maybe look at the rug for a bit. Daniel looked back to his arm as she returned to tending to him. He shook his head as she spoke. “Today was a real unique situation,” he joked. He couldn’t exactly tell her how he had been in many strange situations throughout his life. Today had been weird, but he’d put up with so much in his life that it sort of made sense that they ended up trapped in an arcade game. He looked up from his arm, towards her, and caught her gaze. “I’m sure you would’ve figured it out. For all we know, we could’ve just died three times and the game would release us.” Knowing how the supernatural world worked, he knew that probably would not be the case. It probably was for the best that he was around to help her get through the game.
Daniel couldn’t stop himself from grinning as she continued speaking about him. He didn’t usually get to hear compliments after doing something like that. It wasn’t as if rangers were going around complimenting each other on how they killed shifters and beasts. Not that he wanted that anyway. If he had to rescue someone from harm’s way, he never exactly saw the person again. No time for singing his praises. Molly’s words boosted his ego. “Thanks,” he replied. “Guess I’m always ready for things to happen at any moment.” True, but it felt like an understatement to him. He could never just exist without being on guard for something to happen at any moment. Even when they stepped into the arcade, he scanned the area to prepare for something to happen. He never trusted that any place would actually be safe.
They sat there in a brief moment of silence, looking at each other. He glanced from her eyes down to her lips, and he almost leaned in to kiss her. Molly spoke again, and he looked down to his arm where she still held him. Daniel smirked as he heard her almost say undress. Her mind was clearly elsewhere too. “Yeah, I can do that.” He grabbed his kit and removed his bandages. He might need to look at it again when he returned home, but he could take care of this for now. Plus he really wanted to avoid the hospital. He applied his bandage and wrapped his arm. He moved quickly, as if he had done this hundreds of times. Which he had. On himself and others. It felt like mindless work to him. Just another task from his line of work. “Should be good now,” he told her. “Maybe another drink? I mean, I can also wait on that until after you shower. I’m assuming you wanna do that since you’re,” he glanced over her, “dressed for it.”
—
“I’m really glad that we didn’t find out what dying in game meant.” And Molly never would, or never wanted to again. That was enough of an experience for her. It’d be a long time before she ventured back to Another Castle. And Molly meant it, too. She might be good in a crisis but obstacle courses and video game alligators weren’t her strong suit. If Daniel hadn’t been there to assist in hoisting her out of the water she’s not sure what would’ve happened. Though if they hadn't been in that situation at all she wouldn’t be thinking about his biceps right now either - so was it so bad? “But thank you. I’m glad you’re ready for the unexpected.” Everything about tonight was unexpected.
Molly blinked a couple of times, caught the smirk that settled across Daniel’s lips at her flub and then felt her neck grow hot. Had she wanted to lean in just now? Suddenly the plush robe felt like a horrible decision. The flush across her skin didn’t disappear as she watched him make quick work of his wound, wrapping his arm with ease. It was impossible for her not to stare as every muscle in his arm flexed as he moved. “I-” She started to speak but something about what she had just watched had scrambled any coherent thought inside her brain. And then he’d commented on her garment choice. She blinked twice more before she was able to tear her gaze away from his arm and think somewhat clearly again.
“Yeah, I-” Didn’t think this outfit choice through? Briefly, somehow, forgot there was an extremely attractive and also very protective man in my apartment when I’d put this on? “I did indeed dress to take a shower, myself.” By myself. “So I do want to do that.” As Molly spoke she rose slowly to put the cloth in the sink, she’d take care of that later. She needed a cold shower, stat. Then she turned back towards Daniel. “If you’d like, you're more than welcome to help yourself to another drink. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Or help yourself to me- damnit, Molly! She scolded herself and had to close her eyes for just a second to avoid making a face at herself over her thoughts. “I’ll only take a few minutes.”
—
Daniel noticed how she stumbled through her words at first and stared at his arm. His work made him observant of his surroundings and the people, so he easily picked up on Molly’s reactions to him. He attempted to keep his smirking in check, but that was difficult when he found it so easy to grin at her responses. She really wasn’t helping his ego. “Of course. By yourself,” he agreed with a knowing smirk. He stood up after her. They still stood close to each other in her tiny bathroom.
“Yeah, I’ll help myself.” His eyes looked over her again. “I’ll just have a drink though. Ain’t gonna go perusing through your cabinets.” Daniel nodded as she spoke. “Take your time. I ain’t got nowhere to be.” He glanced towards the door, but the small bathroom didn’t give him the most space to move. A stupid idea crossed his mind as he said, “Excuse me,” and placed one hand on her hip as he moved past her to get to the door. Just a fleeting touch. He guessed that she might spend her shower similarly to his own—thinking about the other.
After Daniel exited the bathroom, he walked towards the kitchen to find the whiskey. He fixed them both another drink. His eyes scanned the area as he looked around the kitchen area. In any other situation, he probably would look through her cabinets to investigate what she had. He still assumed that she was very human based on their conversations, but she could still be something else. He chose to sit down on her couch while he waited on her to shower. He pet her cat (he already forgot its name—as he often did with names) and sipped on the whiskey. He reminded himself to stay in check just in case she was some sort of supernatural creature. He couldn’t go about doing anything too intimate just yet.
—
As Daniel stood and brushed past Molly with a hand on her hip she froze - and had he looked her up and down? “Perfect.” Was all she could manage and breathlessly at that. He could go through any cabinet and she wouldn’t care.
Once Daniel was out of the bathroom Molly secured the door closed behind her and paused to look at herself in the mirror. The makeup she’d applied earlier in the evening was smudged just a little around the corner of one eye and the lipstick had faded. Her hair had dried with a wavy frizz and there was still that smudge of mud on her neck. The blush lingered as she thought again about his hand on her waist. He had pulled her in closer earlier in the night but that hadn’t happened right here in her bathroom. They’d been so close. She could’ve reached out her hand to stop him right there in front of her and grabbed him an-. Girl, get in the shower!
She turned on the hot water, shed her robe, and stepped inside, allowing the hot water to run down her skin. Molly had wanted it hot enough to burn away any weird lingering bacteria from the video game water. Had it been any different from regular river water? She had no idea and didn’t have the energy to think too hard about it right now. All she could think of was strong arms lifting her out of the water and onto the log with hands gripped at her waist. But she didn’t let her mind wander too much. Instead she scrubbed herself clean and turned the faucet to douse herself in a rush of cold water before exiting the shower. If it had been just her at home she would’ve taken much longer but she didn’t want to keep Daniel waiting - though he was probably fine.
Molly dressed in the leggings and oversized NYU sweatshirt, scrubbed the last bit of makeup from her face, applied a light layer of moisturizer, and exited the bathroom. Her damp hair sat across her shoulders and as she walked to the living room she continued to dry it with a towel. “I see Ophelia has already made a new friend.” She said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she saw the cat on the couch next to Daniel. Molly was glad for it. Until recently Ophelia hadn’t really been exposed to other guests and she was afraid she’d be standoffish. Molly also noted the additional drink on her coffee table and grabbed it with her free hand before sitting on the couch next to him. “Did you decide to peruse the cabinets? Or the bookshelf?” As she spoke she tilted her head just enough to gesture towards the one stationed across from the couch, next to the television. “You can learn a lot about a person by seeing what’s on their bookshelf.”
—-
As soon as he heard the shower water turn off, Daniel sat up a bit straighter, knowing that she would be out here again soon. He glanced around, trying to think about what to do besides just sitting there staring at the floor while deep in thought. He really hoped that she wouldn’t leave the bathroom wearing the robe. He couldn’t remember if he saw her take any other clothes in there. His attention stayed on her in the robe and looking over her long legs that she could have brought anything into the bathroom and he wouldn’t have seen it. He grumbled to himself about his lack of care in that situation.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, he felt relieved that she was not in the robe. Molly dressed comfortably just as he did in his spare clothes. He almost felt too comfortable in his clothes as he wore a short-sleeved t-shirt. Daniel kept his arms covered in flannels, sweaters, and jackets because he preferred that people not see him. He had some sort of weird self-conscious issue about people seeing the scars that lined his arms. Sitting on her couch with his arms exposed felt a bit odd to him, yet she already saw his arms earlier during the video game. But it felt different now that he wasn’t focused on getting them both out of the game. She also saw them just earlier, up close as her hands touched them, but now he was supposed to just … relax? He couldn’t remember how to do that with another person in the same space as him. His mind told him that he needed to remain on guard with other people.
Daniel chuckled and shook his head. He made a mental note that the cat’s name was Ophelia, and he hoped that he would remember it. “No, no perusing. I … didn’t look at your bookshelf,” he said. His mind had been elsewhere—on her legs and if she was actually human. Books hadn’t crossed his mind. He watched as she dried her hair. He reminded himself that he really needed to get a haircut because he’d let his hair grow out a bit too long for his liking. The hairs curled into frizzy little ringlets. He preferred keeping it short so it wouldn’t get in his way during hunts. He didn’t really own books anymore (only borrowed ones from the library), so he didn’t even think about looking at her bookshelf. “I guess I should’ve been nosier,” he joked. “All I did was fix drinks and sit here with Ophelia. Just taking a moment after a crazy evening.”
—-
As she sat Molly couldn’t help but note that Daniel seemed a little … nervous wasn’t quite the word for it but she felt as though he seemed a little off. Maybe he was just on guard, being in a new place and isolated with her. Honestly Molly probably should’ve felt the same way - she’d invited someone she’d met twice now into her home without question. She’d been very close to him in her tiny bathroom. But he’d saved her life earlier and after their hike she hadn’t sensed anything strange or off about him. It wasn’t like Molly could say much, herself. She danced around answers to personal questions like a professional.
He seemed distracted. Was it by her? That felt impossible though she was definitely distracted by him. As he explained that he just spent the time she had been in the shower simply sitting on the couch with Ophelia she couldn’t help but sweep her eyes over his biceps that peeked out from his tshirt, and the forearms that were attached. Daniel was strong. And Molly knew that - he had lifted her out of the water earlier with no support for himself. She was still thinking about his grip around her waist. What she’d really wanted to do was reach out and touch them - wrap her fingers around and just feel the muscles - and. Stop that! She scolded her mind for wandering.
“Well I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did go looking. Though I’ll admit my kitchen cabinets are pretty basic and bare. I didn’t bring much from my last place here.” It all reminded her of her life with Roger and after she moved she needed to start fresh. She had enough dishes for herself plus one guest. Two cabinets were actually completely empty. “Only enough dishes for me, the essentials.” She didn’t need much else.
Molly took a long sip of her drink before leaning to place the glass on her coffee table. Then she went back to scrunching her hair dry with the towel as she sat back against the couch. The sight of Ophelia brushing against Daniel brought another smile to her face. “Tonight was crazy. I don’t think crazy is a strong enough word for that situation.” Molly hadn’t even processed all that had happened. “And I’m kind of bummed I didn’t get to kick your ass at Street Fighter.” As she spoke the smile transformed into a coy grin. “And you’ll have to teach me how to play darts another time.” She added. If he wanted to, that is. A part of Molly wondered if he’d think of her as some kind of cursed person or bad luck now thanks to their wacky situation. “If you still want to teach me, of course.” Her gaze slid to his arms again briefly. “All I have here is a set of playing cards. We had a dart board in college but my ex had to build an extra board to go up behind it because we kept putting holes in the wall. I have terrible aim.”
—
“I get that. I’ve just got the essentials in my cabinets. Ain’t needing much more than that.” Part of that was due to the small space of living in a camper. He couldn’t exactly have a lot of things anyway. When Daniel moved from town to town, he dropped off most of his dishes at a local thrift store. He didn’t need to take them all with him. He always kept his cast irons, kettle, and wooden cooking utensils though. Everything else though? Unnecessary. He knew how to obtain dishes on the cheap—as in, he ate at restaurants and bars with the sole purpose of wiping off the dishes and putting them in his backpack. He wasn’t going to spend money on things like dishes when he would donate them in a few months when he moved to the next town. He kept just enough dishes for himself. Guests were not a factor to him because he never allowed people into space.
Daniel took another sip of his drink as he watched her sit down on the couch next to him. He kept the glass in his hand, holding it on his lap as he adjusted his shoulders to face her. His arm naturally moved up onto the back of the couch, resting partially behind Molly’s shoulders. “Crazy is an understatement for sure,” he agreed, even though he knew that he would absolutely do that again. It wasn’t the craziest thing in his life either. “I would’ve loved for you to beat me.” He would have actually enjoyed playing arcade games with Molly—the two of them joking around with each other and getting more time to chat and learn about each other. He would’ve liked to win her a stuffed worm from the claw machine. Instead they left the arcade to clean off after all that.
“I can still teach you how to throw darts,” he replied. He noticed her eyes glance to his arm. He held his drink up to his lips and spoke before taking a sip, “I bet you’d do better with me around too. I’d help you actually learn how to throw and aim. Ain’t gonna be no need for anything behind it. You’ll figure it out.” Daniel believed this too. He taught a few people throughout his life how to throw darts, knives, and axes, so he could figure out how to help her. He took a sip from his drink and placed the glass on the coffee table. “I bet all you need is someone willing to teach you,” he commented, as he leaned in closer towards her. He wanted to watch her throw the darts, see how her hand held it and how she threw it, watch her stance as she threw. He knew that he could correct her mistakes so she would hit the dartboard, not the wall behind it.
As he sat on the couch next to her, Daniel’s gaze wandered from her eyes to look over her again. “Did you go to NYU? Or teach there?” He recalled conversations about how she lived in New York City, but he didn’t recall anything about the university. Even as he asked his question though, he continued moving his gaze, focusing on her legs now covered in the leggings. (Part of him suddenly wished that she had come out of the bathroom in her robe.) His eyes followed the length of her legs, down to her ankles, before he looked back up at her eyes. Sitting on her couch, somewhere comfortable and cozy, he thought more about leaning in closer to her. His arm already rested on the couch behind her and his body faced hers. It’d be so easy. Even if he worried that she wasn’t human, he felt like she probably was. Which was more than enough for him right then. As his mind briefly thought this through, he didn’t realize that he had moved in closer to her, leaving even less space between the two of them. It wasn’t as close as they were in the bathroom seated on the edge of the tub, but it was closer than few mere moments ago.
—
“I did bring my red toaster, but that’s about it.” She even left her KitchenAid mixer behind. That had hurt her but maybe it was something she could talk to her lawyer about getting back. Roger had been dragging out the divorce and the longer Molly had thought about that stupid yet beautiful kitchen gadget - that she’d only technically used once but it looked great on the counter, the more she wanted it back. But we weren’t going to think about Roger tonight.
Molly turned briefly to place the towel on the arm of the couch on the other side of her and then reached for her drink again, taking another sip. The liquid warmed her core as it went down. And she grinned as he offered to still teach her how to play darts, imagining how close he’d have to be to her to do it properly. There was no way she wasn’t blushing even the slightest bit now. His confidence in her was also incredibly attractive. Roger would’ve laughed and said ‘that’s cute but you’ll never get it. Daniel hardly knew Molly and here he was with all of this faith in her. Sure it was just darts but still. This felt nice. “I like your confidence.” She told him, holding her glass in her lap now. “R-” She’d almost spoken his name but quickly redirected herself. What happened to not thinking about Roger tonight? “I think I’m pretty bad so you’ll have your work cut out for you. I might need lots of practice.” Molly added with a playful smile, noting that he’d gotten just a little closer to her.
Daniel was intoxicating. Molly found herself leaning in, too. “Yeah, I went there. I have two degrees from there, actually. Both in theatre.” School saved her at one point - going back for Master’s had been a good distraction. Her eyes had fallen to the drink in her lap as she recalled the memory and she looked up just in time to catch Daniel’s eyes trailing over her again. She’d almost sighed. There was no getting around what she was about to do - and she hadn’t wanted to do a damn thing about it.
She followed his lead and leaned in even closer, first with her eyes locked on his lips. Then she closed her eyes and gently pressed her own lips to his. She felt a warmth bloom across her body from her core as lips touched but she kept the kiss brief, a little embarrassed. Which was ridiculous because she had been thinking about doing just that for a few hours now and she shouldn’t have been embarrassed at all. Molly wasn’t great at flirting but she’d definitely picked up on the fact that Daniel was flirting, too. And he was good at it.
“I’m sorry..” Her voice was quiet and she found herself almost laughing at herself, mostly due to the way she’d felt about it. Molly moved her glass so that it was resting safely on the coffee table again and then she turned back to Daniel. “I mean, I’m not sorry for doing that, actually. I don’t know why I apologized.” She wanted to do it again but she didn’t want to make a fool out of herself.
—
“I got plenty of confidence. I could share some of it with you,” Daniel joked. “And I got time. We can play darts as often as needed until you got it down.” He meant it too. It wasn’t as if he had that busy of a schedule. He didn’t hunt as much as he used to, and he worked during the days. He spent most of his time in his camper, so he could easily make plans with Molly whenever she wanted.
As she leaned in closer to him too, he kept his eyes on hers. He nodded in response as she spoke about theatre degrees. He wasn’t sure what to say next in response—it wasn’t like he had anything more than a high school education. That wasn’t impressive or interesting, unlike whatever two types of degrees she had. Molly led a completely different life from Daniel, but he figured they could find more to discuss.
But maybe later because he caught her eyes looking down at his lips right before she leaned in to kiss him. He grinned into the kiss, thrilled that she made the first move. If she hadn’t kissed him first, he knew he would go for it within a few moments. The kiss lasted briefly, too briefly for his liking. He stayed close to her, mere inches away from her as she apologized. She turned away from him, and his gaze remained on her as she moved. “Good, I ain’t know why you apologized either,” he teased. A soft grin remained on Daniel’s face as he spoke. He moved his arm off the back of the couch and placed his hand on the side of her face, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. His hand moved under her chin as he pulled her in for another kiss. Longer this time, as he didn’t want a fleeting kiss. Hungrier too, as he longed to kiss her so many times throughout their evening. He starved for a kiss, for touch, after years of always denying such moments to himself. Not that he didn’t kiss anyone, but the kisses were few and far between over the years. He didn’t want himself getting that close to anyone, especially someone he didn’t know that well. He preferred denying himself anything pleasurable as he believed that he didn’t deserve any of it. Yet he disliked the idea of too much space being between them, keeping them too far apart. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, wanting to feel her pressed against him.
—
“Good.” She told him. “I look forward to it.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, a playful tone to it. Because she was a little sad that they’d missed out on actually playing a game - at least in a way that hadn’t been them literally trapped inside of a game. And thankfully dart boards existed in bars that weren’t Another Castle so Molly wouldn’t have to go back anytime soon.
Daniel hadn’t pulled too far back when Molly had turned away and that fact made her feel nervous and excited all at once. And as he spoke, she felt herself blushing. This is new to me. She wanted to say. Of course she’d kissed someone before - three people now that she’d kissed him! At her ripe age of forty. It felt a little odd - and a little wrong, even though it wasn’t at all. Though the divorce papers hadn’t quite made it to Molly yet she was fully separated from her ex. Molly was allowed to allow herself this freedom. Some might even say she deserved it - though she might not agree.
She bit down on her lower lip as he looked at her again, bringing his hand to her face. His touch sent goosebumps across her skin beneath her sweatshirt. Molly leaned into him as he pulled her back for another kiss and she couldn’t help but smile against his lips. When his arm snaked around her waist she turned herself to bring her closer to him. And then to make it easier on the both of them, she pulled herself into his lap, straddling him. One arm wrapped around the back of his neck and the other hand rested against his cheek, her touch gentle but her kiss matching the hunger he’d shown as he pulled her in. As they kissed Molly felt her heart rate soar and heard her heart pounding like a drum in her ears and wondered if Daniel heard it too.
After a few more moments she almost pulled away again, ready to throw some excuse about how she was no good at this his way but realized there was no point. He was kissing her back, and his grip as he pulled her closer was strong and intentional. If he felt any other way about it, Molly couldn’t tell. She just melted against him and moved the hand that rest against his face down his neck and shoulder, only stopping once she found his bicep. Her fingers lightly traced the definition along his muscles and warmth within her only intensified. A contented hum escaped as her grip tightened against his skin. And now she was embarrassed again and when Molly got embarrassed, she talked to make up for it. “I won’t lie, I can’t get the way that you effortlessly hoisted me out of the water earlier tonight out of my head.” Fingers traced muscles again. “You’re so strong.”
—
As she pulled herself onto his lap, Daniel’s arm snaked further around her waist, bringing her closer against him. His head tilted back, up towards her, and his hand remained against her cheek. He slowly slid his hand down her neck to her waist, pressing into her hip. His mind attempted to remind himself that he should probably stop what he was doing right then. But adrenaline from the evening still rushed through him, determining his decisions for him. Adrenaline instructed him to move one hand further down, slipping it under her oversized sweatshirt and resting it against the small of her back, pressing his hand against her skin.
He sighed into her kiss, thinking about how he for once didn’t want to put a stop to this. Even if there was a possibility that she wasn’t human. He craved so much more with her. His mind raced through all the ideas of what they could do on the couch or possibly the bed if they made it that far. Daniel could count on both hands how many times he’d found himself in a situation like this over the last seven or so years. But usually the other person was a fellow hunter—someone whose identity he confirmed. He didn’t worry about their perception of his scars because scars covered their bodies too. They all knew to not ask questions. (Even then, the self-hatred ran so deep that he often felt uncomfortable with other hunters perceiving him.) When it came to Molly, he couldn’t confirm anything about her; he could only believe what she told him about herself.
Her hand ran along his arm, and he felt her grip tighten against his bicep. He smirked as she pulled away. His gaze followed her, his eyes staying on hers as he watched her. “Oh?” He moved his hands to her hips. “I think this is where I had them earlier too.” Daniel leaned up for a quick kiss before pulling slightly away from her. He couldn’t exactly tell her how strong he was. His hunter strength made lifting her out of the water feel like a breeze. He moved his arms around her again, snaking one behind her back and the other behind her head. His palm pushed into her back as he switched their positions, using his strength to lift and move her, pressing her back into the couch cushions as he moved on top of her. “Thanks,” he said as he leaned down towards her, letting his lips briefly brush against hers but not pressing them against hers. He let his hand slide down from her back and to her leg, his head turning to watch his hand as he gently trailed his fingers along the side of her leg. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night. Your legs are very distracting.”
—
As Daniel’s hand slipped beneath her sweatshirt and rested against her skin Molly hummed happily against his lips. Though this was new for her, she was enjoying every moment, despite thinking that she might not have been so good at all of it. It was difficult for Molly not to compare her experience, though she had no idea of Daniel’s experience - and it wasn’t like it mattered. But Molly felt deeply inexperienced and felt as though she was moving her hands clumsily along his body.
Molly could tell that it pleased Daniel as she gripped his bicep. And as he reached to grab her to mimic where he’d reached for her earlier to lift her out of the water a sigh escaped. Her lips pressed against his hungrily again but he pulled back. Then he’d switched their positions instantly on the couch, Molly now pinned to the cushions. In the midst of the motion she’d gasped - impressed by his strength and speed of readjusting them. He was driving her mad with the teasing as he leaned down to act like he was kissing her again. Instead he’d thanked her and proceeded to trail his fingers down her leg.
Molly was tall at 5’9’ and was the kind of tall where the legs did most of the work as opposed to her having a long torso. She’d struggled her whole life with shorter skirts and finding ones that looked like they’d fit her appropriately due to her height. But Roger had never really commented on her legs..? Which she thought might be odd for a man who’d been with a woman for twenty-two years. But Roger was taller so maybe he’d never thought to consider her own height? But as Daniel commented on how distracting her legs were, Molly couldn’t help but giggle playfully. “I guess it’s a shame that I changed out of the robe, huh?” She asked, teasingly. She thought the leggings might help the both of them feel more comfortable because Molly would be lying if she’d said she hadn’t noticed Daniel eyeing her while she was helping him in the bathroom. And that knowledge only fueled her as she grew in confidence. With her hand now resting on the back of his neck she gave him one last smirk before pulling him back to her with a hungry kiss. Though it was a short kiss. Knowing that he’d oblige, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, feeling his body move against hers, and wiggled her way off of the couch to stand. As she rose she took one of his hands in her own and tugged playfully, inviting him to follow her back to her room.
PARTIES: Molly & Teagan // @closingwaters
TIMING: late March
LOCATION: Teagan's home
SUMMARY: Molly tries dating apps for the first time in her life and matches with Teagan. The two agree to meet for a little date!
WARNINGS: wrspice and some light grief
Running was always an option from any problem. Don't like what's happening? Run! Is something scaring you? Run! Don't like how a scenario is going to make you feel? You guessed it, run!
Well, in her current predicament, which involved an uncomfortable conversation and facing emotions she wasn't ready for, Teagan decided instead to swipe right on. She discovered quickly that she could find a stranger to sleep with on her nifty rectangle. Just one flick of her finger and she'd have a guest at the drop of a hat.
That time around, it was some Molly woman. She enjoyed the theatre, books, had a cat, and was an absolute beaut! To prepare, Teagan sorted out a charcuterie board and a wine to pair it with. She was just placing the decanter down when there was a small knock at the front. “Delightful.” Teagan muttered to herself with a grin, sauntering over. She opened the door and kept her tone light and playful. “My, your photos do not do you justice. Come in!”
--
What the fuck am I doing? Molly thought to herself as she approached the Teagan's residence, the person she’d connected with via dating app. Molly had never used a dating app in her life - she hadn’t needed to! She had lived the sickeningly sweet cliché story of marrying her high school sweetheart and spending nearly two decades together. Dating apps didn’t exist when she met Roger. They had friends who utilized them and even had one who had raging success in meeting the love of their life. It was fun for them, apparently, so in an attempt to feel less desperate Molly thought she might give it a go after support from Metzli.
So now here she was, standing on the doorstep of a stranger she’d met online. This felt strange. Molly was nervous and excited - and sad but she decided she was going to do her best to shove that feeling deep down. There was no time to be sad today!
She gave a quiet knock against the door and then her hand fell to her side, nervously rolling the fabric of the skirt of her dress between her fingers. Was a dress too much? It was casual - a solid layer underneath with a sheer pattern overtop, somewhere between a burnt orange and red in color, and buttons all the way down. It was also modest, though there were buttons down the front, the ‘v’ was hardly deep enough to tease any cleavage.
It was no use - Molly didn’t have enough time to overthink because no sooner had she knocked she was greeted on the other side of the door by one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Shit. “Hi!” She greeted in her best attempt to not sound awkward or nervous. “Gosh, yours don’t either.” Slipped out before she could stop it but it was okay because it felt kind of fun to flirt. She followed Teagan into her home, doing her best to keep her nervous energy at bay. “I mean, yeah -” Why am I like this? She cursed herself. “Sorry, hi, I’m Molly. It’s nice to meet you!” As she spoke she shimmied out of her denim jacket and draped it over one of her arms.
---
Just one look and Teagan knew that Molly was more than happy with how she looked. She may have requested that they keep their date small and at her place, but she still dressed for the occasion. Leather and corduroy skirt with a tube top and a mesh long sleeve. Her hair was down, the waves of her hair brushed just so.
A lot of time went into it considering that date was really meant to forget that Arden…Teagan didn't let herself think about it, stomach twisting with incredible force. She had a guest, and she didn't want to grieve. She needed to do anything else but grieve.
“How's that for lovely?” Teagan took Molly's hand and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek before pulling away. There was a faint impression of lipstick on Molly's cheek, and Teagan snorted. “Oh my, apologies. Let me…” She muttered, taking her thumb and brushing off the stain.
“All better now.” With a grin, she led Molly to the couch and wiggled in her seat to settle in. She propped her head with her hand, elbow against the backrest of the couch, drinking Molly in. There was a whole date to get through, but if any move was made, Teagan would be more than happy to oblige. “So,” She gestured to the coffee table. “Help yourself and then tell me what your favorite season is and why.”
---
The skirt hugged Teagan in a way that made Molly blush ever so slightly. She was gorgeous. The pictures hadn’t done her justice at all, and her eyes were striking. The next thing Molly knew, Teagan was pulling her into a hug, and a kiss followed. Molly knew the blush had only deepened across her cheeks, especially as Teagan reached up to brush away what Molly had only assumed was a lipstick stain left behind. The feeling of her thumb brushing across her skin caused goosebumps to rise across Molly’s body. Teagan’s energy was electric - intoxicating even. “It’s okay..” Molly said quietly, smiling in return.
She followed Teagan to the couch and took a seat, draping her jacket over the arm of the couch. Then she eyed the charcuterie spread in front of them - it was a perfect touch for their date. “This is lovely.” She complimented and reached for a piece of fruit as instructed - and it was delicious.
“My favorite season…” Molly said as she sat back against the face in a similar position to face Teagan better. “I love fall because I love the leaves changing, and the cooler nights. But I’ve always had a fondness for winter, especially when I lived in the city. I love the lead up to the holidays with all of the lights and what feels like magic of the season.” She could easily recall fond memories from her years in New York City. “And January has always felt like a chance for a slow down and recharge.” Though the evenings had been a little more challenging to navigate last winter as it was her first winter without Roger or her family around. Those nights felt longer than long - a never-ending dark night. But she wasn’t about to bring that up. “What about you?” She asked, leaning forward ever so slightly to grab a piece of cheese.
---
“Ah, so you're a city woman?” The blonde scrunched her nose playfully, feigning disgust for the lifestyle. She was sure there were some advantages to living in the city, and maybe it was even delightful, but Teagan couldn't imagine there was enough water. She would be miserable in that kind of environment, though she doubted Molly had the same issue considering there was a lack of her fae sense going off.
There was a flicker of something in Molly's eyes as she answered Teagan's question, but she didn't prod. It was the first date, and you didn't get that deep at the first jump, right? That's what Teagan assumed anyway. So, instead of asking, she grabbed the decanter and filled both her glass and Molly's. She passed one over to her date and took a sip before sitting back and crossing her legs to answer.
“Well, it'll have to be summer and spring for me. That's the best time to be in the water.” She explained with her free hand, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Rather fond of this lake in particular. More people are a bother in those seasons, but she's so majestic under that sunlight. She just…sparkles.” Teagan flared her hand for emphasis, smiling and taking a breath before she delved into a deeper conversation on why Darkling was perfect. “If you don't mind my asking,” She scooted closer and took a sip of her wine. “What are you looking for, lass? Suppose we should get that out of the way, eh?”
---
“I guess I am.” Molly offered with a shrug. Had she ever considered whether she was a city girl or preferred more of a small town vibe? If she had to decide in the moment she figured she’d pick the city. She liked staying busy. And she couldn’t help but notice the scrunch of her nose that Teagan offered in response.
There was a smile as Molly accepted the glass from Teagan, “Thank you.” She replied with a soft smile. The woman followed suit, taking a sip of her own wine before settling against the couch. This was nice.
And then she chuckled softly at Teagan’s response. “So the exact opposite, huh?” Molly teased with a quirk of a brow hoping that Teagan would sense that she was in fact just teasing. She loved the way that Teagan lit up as she spoke of the lake. Her own eyes seemed to sparkle as she said the word herself. Molly brought the wine glass to her lips again as she listened, enchanted by Teagan already. “I’ve never been out to the lake here, but I can see how a crowd would put a damper on things.”
Molly held the glass in her lap now and looked at Teagan again as she came right out with it. This was Molly’s first hook-up kind of situation, or at least she figured it was. Daniel and Metzli were friends and she hadn’t exactly considered what happened between them to be a hook up, at least not one for the sole intention of it being just that. Then again, thinking about it being anything more than that made Molly’s head spin. Why was this so complicated? “Well,” she began, a soft sigh causing the rise and fall of her shoulders in response, “To be quite honest, I’m not really sure. I mean, I know that I’m not looking for anything complicated.” She would’ve added that she also wasn’t looking for anything that involved feelings but that was literally impossible for Molly. It seemed she was cursed to have feelings over everything. “I don’t know, I’m not really good at this.” She knew that was something you weren’t really supposed to say in a situation such as this. It was better to pretend and fumble your way through it but Molly didn’t even know how to fake it. “I’m new to dating..”
--
“Indeed. But you know that saying, right?” Leaning in, Teagan smiled widely with saccharine. “Opposites attract.” A bounce of her brows gave away the way she knew how cheesy it was to say that, and she couldn't stop the chuckle tumbling out.
What could she say? Teagan loved the playful approach when it came to romance or something in the in-between. It was an easy way to gauge someone's personality without digging too deep. And it seemed that was exactly what Molly was looking for in the first place. Teagan's brows rose with a little surprise.
Molly was a beautiful woman, and her eyes weren't particularly innocent. The fae thought her reading skills rather exemplary, so to have Molly express her desire for something simple was a bit of a shock. A welcomed one, but still.
“Oh?” A shiver ran down Teagan's spine and she scooted even closer to Molly. “I can do that, definitely.” Putting her glass aside, she took Molly's too, shimmying her way into Molly's space. One arm draped over her shoulders while the other lay on her knee. “In fact, I'm pretty sure the romantic, complicated part of me has buggered off.” Her eyes darted to Molly's lips and then back to her eyes, face leaning in just so. She wanted Molly to make the final push.
--
So Teagan was charming, too. And Molly was very susceptible to that. “Indeed they do.” She chimed in agreement. Molly was grateful that Teagan had also opted to keep the mood light and playful even. Though Molly was hopeful she was hiding it at least somewhat successfully, she was nervous.
It was easy to see as the wheels began to turn behind Teagan’s eyes as she looked at Molly. Not two seconds later she was reaching for her glass to move it out of the way. Then Molly felt the pace of her heart quicken as she scooted closer, arm draping over her shoulders. She shuddered at Teagan’s touch - it was gentle yet the woman seemed confident.
“Good.” Molly replied, voice full of relief. The last thing she needed right now was complicated. Though she wasn’t entirely sure that she knew how to operate without making things complicated. Teagan was new, though, basically a stranger. So who else better than to try something new with? Molly was almost annoyed at herself now for letting on that she was nervous and not good at this. If she’d been just a bit more confident in herself she felt she would’ve been better off.
Molly wished she could say the same too, about the romantic and complicated part of herself getting away from her. Though, who was to say that she couldn’t? Again, Teagan was new. “Now there’s something we have in common.” The words left her lips in a whisper as she leaned into Teagan’s touch, Molly’s bottom lip brushing against hers. They were soft, as soft as the leg beneath Molly’s hand as it moved to rest atop her knee. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly, almost embarrassed.
--
At the reciprocation, Teagan closed the distance and took hold of Molly's hand, guiding it up her lap and to her chest. Safe to say that Molly wanted her just as much, a heat behind every kiss they shared. That was Teagan's kind of dating. Physical intimacy that could be left at that or with little to no pull on the other side of the rope. Enough slack for either to walk away without repercussions.
“Well getting here didn't take long, did it?” Her voice was bright and playful, a brief groan tying itself to the end of her question as Teagan tugged Molly closer. “C'mere, beaut.” She groaned again, that time with a secure arm around the woman to help her maneuver onto Teagan's lap.
“Now that's lush, that is.” Hands roamed freely, although a little slowly, as if requesting permission. Teagan looked up at Molly, pupils blown out a tad from the excitement. “It's a good thing you wore a dress.” Moving her hands up hungrily, the nix locked eyes with her date, grinning with delight. “Seems you knew exactly what you were doing, Miss Molly.”
--
Molly shuddered again as Teagan led her hand to her chest. Surely the woman could tell that Molly was doing her best to not shake like a leaf right now. “It didn’t…” Molly replied, her voice quiet. With that, Molly helped herself into Teagan’s lap, noting the strength in Teagan’s own arm as she assisted. If there was something Molly rather enjoyed, it was strong arms.
Then she felt a blush creep up her chest and bloom across her face. When Molly had chosen the dress this had been the last thing on her mind but it was funny now. This was just Molly’s style. Convenience was just a perk.
Now she grinned, “I have to admit,” Molly began in reply, unable to just take the fucking moment, “I didn’t exactly plan for this.” Well, she kind of did, knowing the outcome of going on a date like this, obviously, but she didn’t factor in still having the dress on. Why was she overthinking this? “I mean, I did but not.. When I chose the dress. I don’t know.” Another nervous chuckle fell from her lips. “I’m sorry, I’m awkward. I’ll stop talking.”
—
I did, Teagan thought to herself, humming happily and moving her hands with purpose. Then, unexpectedly, Molly began to stammer, growing awkward and saying as much. Teagan's throat tightened and her nose stung, memories flooding from her mind and twisting her heart. Her hands paused, breathing hitching and chest beginning to race as she became preoccupied with the notes of Arden that Molly reminded her of.
Clearing her throat, the fae took a few moments to breathe deeply and calm herself. She didn't need to grieve in front of a stranger, and she didn't need to grieve at all. In Teagan's mind, she'd done enough of that and needed to occupy her time with anything that swayed those emotions for her sanity. Or at the very least, what was left of her stability.
“Apologies, lass,” Teagan chuckled, though it lacked any humor as it trembled towards the end of her breath. “We can…” She planted her hands onto Molly's hips, adjusting her grip. “Where were we?”
—
Molly noticed the change in Teagan’s pace immediately as well as the pausing of her hands. For just a moment she appeared to make an attempt to gather herself. It was a moment that Molly had come to know all too well.
Doing anything with anyone else often felt impossible after Roger, especially for the first time. But also not only for the first time. Molly still experienced moments triggered by a simple touch of a hand. She didn’t know in what way Teagan might be able to relate, but her heart would ache for her.
For a moment Molly paused too, gentle eyes trained on Teagan’s. “No need to apologize.” She told her without a beat. Then Molly was filled with an urge to unload, to let Teagan know that she too knew a type of grief - one that gave her pause as her hands roamed another’s body. Again, it didn’t happen every time but it didn’t make it less painful when it hit.
Instead, she allowed a patient smile to settle across her lips. “I can remind you..” She whispered, closing the gap between them to place a soft kiss against her lips. As she moved one of Molly’s hands traveled confidently to the base of Teagan’s neck, touch gentle. Though this seemed to be an intended outcome of a date born of an online dating app, Molly didn’t want to force anything, especially if Teagan needed support in another way.
—
The line between grief and pleasure was becoming thin, fraying as each side tugged and yanked. Teagan focused on Molly's hands and how they felt, a small sound parting her lips. It was a whine, resting somewhere in between pleasure and despair. Another yank forced out a second, breathy tone and Teagan threw herself on the side of bliss.
She led the two to the bundle of blankets and pillows she put together by the fireplace, taking her place above Molly. In the mess of heady breaths and indulging caresses, Teagan found herself seeing stars and buzzing with joy.
In the high, she found the apex, crashing down immediately into Molly's lips while wishing they were Arden's instead. She even said as much by accident, calling her name. Teagan burst into tears at the realization, covering her face as she rested atop her latest conquest, wishing she didn't have a name. “I'm sorry, Molly. I'm…I'm sorry.”
—-
For just a second Molly grinned against Teagan’s lips and felt a little selfish over how nice it felt to hear her whine. It was funny (in a way that might also be a little sad) how she’d been with someone for over twenty years and had never really stopped to think about how good it felt to know that she could help someone feel a type of way in a moment such as this. Of course her and Roger had sex, and it hadn’t been bad or anything. Molly was just realizing, in her post-divorce clarity perhaps, that she was allowed to focus on herself a little more, and how she made a partner feel in the moment (especially when that feeling was seemingly good).
And it was okay that feedback made her feel good. Molly moved with Teagan as she led them to the fireplace and Molly couldn’t help but give Teagan kudos. She’d really pulled out all of the stops for this and Molly was a sucker for a romantic touch. Words were lost on her though as lips collided and fingers fumbled with fabric. She could feel an electric buzz beneath her skin and could sense just as much energy radiating from Teagan. There was a hunger that could only be satisfied through pleasure.
It was safe to consider that hunger satisfied as far as Molly was concerned and it wasn’t long after her own summit that it became apparent that the feeling was mutual. Then as lips met again she heard Teagan call her another name. And honestly, Molly might not have thought much of it if it hadn't been for the tears that followed.
Teagan was grieving someone who meant the world to her, that much was clear to Molly. “No, no it’s okay.” Molly’s arms were still wrapped around Teagan and as she started to cry, Molly brought a hand to the back of her neck in an attempt to comfort her. Her touch was gentle now, fueled by compassion rather than lust. The last thing Molly was about to do was make her feel guilty. Especially when Molly felt a warmth rise within her chest and a sting of tears behind her own eyes in return. Her heart ached for Teagan in a way she didn’t know was possible.
“You can tell me about them if you’d like.” Was that weird of her to say? “I’m sorry if that’s strange of me to offer, and you definitely don’t have to. I just…” she paused, “I just want you to know that it’s okay..”
—
A bemused chuckle huffed out of Teagan as she shook her head. Molly was kind. She didn't deserve to have a stranger recount her of their woes. Their date only had one kind of end. An amicable one, sure, but not the kind that offered a romance of any sort. Teagan was just a body to be used so that her brain had even just an iota of reprieve. Though, unfortunately, it seemed as if its effectiveness was dwindling.
“Not strange at all, lass. Just…not needed.” Swallowing, the nix slid off of Molly and rolled onto her side, forcing a smile onto her face that felt so close to a lie that her stomach twisted. She shuddered, inching closer to Molly in an effort to put all her focus on how soft and warm the woman felt.
“Can you…um, do you think…” Teagan gestured between the two of them, forgetting her hands were between the large quilt. “I probably shouldn't ask but can you…hold me?” She knew she probably didn't deserve it, but selfishly, she wanted it. Craved it. Teagan didn't mean anything to Molly and likewise, Molly didn't mean anything to Teagan, but just for the night, she wanted to pretend while kind arms wrapped around her.
—
Molly watched as Teagan rolled onto her side to face her. The smile was forced - Molly could tell, but she was in no position to judge. “Gotcha..” she said quietly, allowing her gaze to drop for only a few seconds before meeting Teagan’s eyes again.
“Of course.” She replied to Teagan’s request without a second thought. Holding her was the least she could do. And Molly admired her for asking. That was something that she herself didn’t know how to do. It felt odd to ask for that kind of touch, and it wasn’t until Metzli came along that she learned that touch was something she could seek as a form of comfort. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask.
“Come here..” Molly offered, extending an arm to pull Teagan close. She used her free hand to adjust the quilt around them. Molly wished there was more that she could do to offer support and at the same time the pair hardly knew each other so perhaps holding her would be enough, even if just for a night.
—
A quiet, unsteady sigh of relief escaped the nix at Molly's acceptance. Her eyes went half-lidded, softly scanning over the woman's body, from her arm to her chest, right before the quilt obscured her view. “Thank you.” Teagan breathed, nestling into Molly as if she was a raft and she wasn't a nix. She liked how warm it was, ignoring the icy guilt stabbing the inside of her chest and fingertips.
It took no time at all for the high of Teagan's bliss to dwindle into a heavy dust on her lids, the early illusions of a dream treading the line between sleep and consciousness. “She was killed,” She said in a half-asleep whisper, unaware of how her glamour was fading. Her feet and hands went webbed, and her gills flickered from a hazy blur, to tangible and vibrant. Then, in the next moment, her breathing went steady, clawed hand going still at Molly's hips.
—
It didn’t take long for Molly to sink against Teagan as she cuddled close, or long for her to realize just how tired she was. This was one of the less glamorous side effects of getting older, she figured. Her eyes closed, a contented smile settling softly across Molly’s lips as slumber came for her like a wolf in the night.
Molly could hardly make out what Teagan had mumbled as she drifted herself, the muscles in her body relaxing even more as the weight of another day fell from her shoulders.
Some odd hours later she stirred, feeling hot thanks to the quilts and crackling fire that had lulled the pair to sleep. That was one thing she didn’t miss about sleeping beside Roger every night, (okay, there were more things that she didn’t miss, but still) she didn’t miss waking up in the night in a sweat.
Memories of earlier came to her quickly as her eyes fluttered open - wine and cheese and then a fair bit of intimacy between her and Teagan. Teagan who still lay sleeping in Molly’s arms.
Teagan? Her eyes wandered to the figure in her arms and suddenly Molly wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming. Were those gills? And the hand that drooped across her hips, the fingers felt different. Odd. She thought. Teagan’s skin felt soft as silk beneath Molly’s fingers just as it had before but everything else about her seemed entirely different.
Molly felt her body stiffen carefully as the realization startled her. She wasn’t scared, just a little surprised, maybe? “What?” The word escaped from her mouth in a whisper. She hadn’t intended to say anything, she didn’t want to wake Teagan, and there was no telling what time it was as no outside light was evident through the windows.
—
“Hm…w-huh?” Teagan grumbled, her dreams remaining calm in spite of the constant state of despair she was in. It was a surprise if she were honest. There hadn't really been a night since Arden's passing that she wasn't gasping awake or thrashing around.
Teagan supposed it was due to the company, but even when Nova or Siobhan stayed with her, the result led to a startling wake up for her guests. She wasn't going to think too hard about it. Not that she could anyway. Molly sounded concerned, if not a little confused. Why, though? Teagan asked herself sleepily, blinking her way into a more conscious state.
“You okay?” The nix stretched, claws grazing gently across Molly's skin and her gills flexing forward. They settled into a neutral state as Teagan rolled her shoulders and sat up, opening her eyes fully. The quilt slid off of her torso and revealed more of her pale, pink skin, but Teagan was none the wiser. Her sleepy mind was still catching up, forgetting that she'd even removed her jewlery that would've kept her glamour up.
“What time is it?”
–
As Teagan stirred in her lap Molly held her breath. Maybe she’d turn over and fall back asleep. If that had been the case Molly would’ve followed suit. She wasn’t one to walk out on a date, or sneak out early - at least she’d never done that before.
Instead, Teagan stretched and Molly felt the… claws? against her skin. Her eyes, which she had trained on the dying embers of the fire, drifted to the gills, watching them contract. It quickly became apparent that Teagan wasn’t human. And that didn’t scare Molly, it just surprised her. Teagan hadn’t given her any reason to fear for her safety and maybe that was a naive line of thinking on Molly’s part, but she wasn’t about to jump back just yet. Besides, Teagan didn’t seem concerned - if she had realized anything had changed at all.
Finally, Molly spoke. “I… uh.” As she did so her eyes danced between the quilts and Teagan’s skin. “It’s uh.” Words were hard. “I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. Molly had left her phone in her purse.
“You’re pink.” The words tumbled out between Molly’s lips without warning. Then realization crashed over her like a wave, “I”m sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I don’t want to be rude. I just didn’t…” expect this.
—
Molly looked flustered, which wasn't unusual, but considering the two of them had had sex, it felt strange. By now, the two of them should be comfortable. That's what Teagan thought, at least. “You okay?” Sleep was still a bit fuzzy on her lids, but with a few blinks, everything became clearer. As she raked a hand through her hair, Teagan licked her lips and gave Molly a soft, tired smile, expression falling into shock when she understood exactly what Molly was saying.
Pink?
“I—Um, I-I…what?” Teagan's posture went rigid and she scooted away from Molly in a bewildered haste. “Oh shite. Shite, shite, shite!” She looked at her hands, and then back at Molly, and then back at her hands again. There was no explaining her state away, was there? And while Molly wasn't running out of the house screaming, Teagan wasn't sure if that was completely off the table either.
Then, Molly apologized, and the nix fell into laughter for a minute.
“Wow.” Collecting herself, she took a few deep breaths and shook her head, hair pulled back by claws full of confused tension. “Okay.” Teagan cleared her throat, coughing a few more times to combat the laughter still trying to resurface. She needed to know something.
“You're not…you're not going to tell anyone, are you?”
—
“Yeah!” Molly said in response to Teagan’s question about whether or not she was okay. She was okay, she was just surprised, that’s all.
Then the realization crashed into Teagan like a wave against the shore - Molly saw the expression across her face change as she looked at her hands, or uh.. claws. Then she started to laugh. For a moment Molly was a little confused by the reaction. Had she said something wrong? All she’d done was point out that she was pink, which Teagan was, so surely she hadn’t offended her? So, Molly just watched as she laughed, hoping for her sake that it wasn’t a bad reaction.
“Oh?” At the inquiry if she would tell anyone Molly shook her head. “No, no, of course not.” Molly had been sleeping with a vampire so it wasn’t like this situation was entirely out of the ordinary for her. And she hadn’t really told anyone about that, unless it was someone close to them who had asked, but still. Molly didn’t exactly go around talking about her sex life.
“Are you..” Her eyes traced the distance between them now before landing on Teagan again, “I guess, I don’t quite know what you are..” Molly couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Given that she’d been in Wicked’s Rest for over two years now, she probably should’ve been more educated on the potential residents but outside of the ones she’d encountered, she wasn’t really sure. “But you’re beautiful.”
—
Promise? Teagan almost asked, narrowing her eyes to scan Molly's face. Then her gaze wandered her still bare body, her mind becoming preoccupied with the possibilities of what the two of them could do. There was no need for secrets now, leaving Teagan to tempt Molly into entertaining her thoughts.
“Good girl.” She stole a long kiss from the brunette, sneaking her knee between her legs while she let her hands roam. “As are you, especially with that wonder in your eyes.” Teagan grinned, trailing her lips to Molly's neck while her now human hand disappeared elsewhere.
“I'll tell you what I am after I have a little more fun with you.” She breathed Molly in, delighted. “Right now, I want you to show me how beautiful you think I am.”
—
Good girl. The words echoed in her ears and Molly felt a pleasant shiver run through her. Her teeth met her own lower lip for only a second before Teagan’s lips found hers again. Molly’s hands roamed, trailing lightly against the other’s skin. This sort of behavior was still new to Molly, the whole concept of allowing herself to give in to her curiosity and desire, so she moved slowly, following Teagan’s lead. But it was an easy thing to do.
And there was a sort of thrill to Teagan’s words, the tease of telling her more about herself after a little more fun. Molly felt a buzz in her chest, but the good kind. (Not the kind that a forty year old woman should be worried about!) Then a playful smirk settled across her lips as she rolled over and placed herself atop Teagan, ready to get lost in the quilts again.
TIMING: Late December 2025
PARTIES: Morgan & Molly // @25centimental
LOCATION: Molly & Metzli's apartment downtown
SUMMARY: Morgan crashes on Molly's couch after a night out with Metzli. Molly is anything but stealthy as she attempts to make her morning coffee and wakes Morgan. The two engage in polite conversation!
CONTENT WARNING: brief wrspice mention (just to be safe!)
In the midst of the stress of the holidays and the avalanche of memories they brought with them, Molly had tried her best to keep up with her normal routine so as to not throw her out of her groove. She knew that was going to be a challenge come January with the university still out of classes for the semester. To save herself from that struggle she agreed to teach a winter-semester theatre appreciation course for non-theatre studying students who simply needed the extra credit hours for their degrees. There’d be the usual break for the Christmas holiday and New Year’s but then she’d be back to work.
She could do this. Or, so she hoped. Something she had been doing to help herself was avoiding the temptation to go out until late in the evenings. Molly was trying to avoid doing that anyway, because it hadn’t gone over well in the past. And if she had to speak on it she would’ve claimed to be doing much better recently, she didn’t mind staying home so much anymore. Though if she were being honest it was difficult to mask the loneliness on nights when Metzli ventured away from the apartment. Not that she needed to know the details or what they were up to, it wasn’t like they were dating or anything, she was just curious. Besides, they had only just moved in so it wasn’t like Molly wasn’t used to being alone.
Last night was one of those nights. And Molly could’ve sworn she’d heard voices at one point as she rolled over in a fit of restlessness. Perhaps it had just been her mind playing tricks on her, or the sound of the television? She’d turned in earlier than she’d planned but it turned out to be just what she’d needed - a long rest. Outside of stirring lightly once or twice she’d managed to make it through the night without interruptions, which was a feat this time of year.
Upon exiting her bedroom it quickly became apparent that someone else, other than Metzli, was indeed in the apartment. It was easy to spot the person asleep on her couch, and if they had been someone brought home by Metzli the last thing she wanted to do was disturb them. Molly activated stealth mode, or attempted to activate it - she wasn’t exactly a stealthy person. She slipped quietly into the kitchen just around the corner and as carefully as she could she began to prepare to brew a cup of coffee.
That “stealth” mode lasted about three seconds. As she reached for the scoop to fish out coffee grounds from the jar her elbow knocked the stainless steel percolator over onto the counter, lid clattering off in the process. Thank god it was empty, at least. “Shit.” Molly whispered to herself, and her shoulders tensed as she held her breath as if to listen for movement in the other room.
—
Metzli had offered to continue their conversation in their apartment, but admittedly, Morgan didn’t remember too much else specifically that was said. She was warned about the dog, Fluffy, who was the cutest little dust bunny of a critter and she’d probably fawned over him a normal amount. The bartender wasn’t blackout drunk, but it didn’t take much for her to fall asleep once she’d gotten horizontal on the unfamiliar couch.
Morgan slept the sort of deep sleep you have after crying all of the tears out of your body. She didn’t remember losing composure at the bar, but sometimes the brain could have a way of running off with the heart and the senses once you’d gone to sleep. The woman was typically a heavy sleeper, accustomed to late nights pushing into late mornings. It was one of the hazards of working a video arcade – even after she’d locked the doors to Another Castle, it often took a while for the sights and sounds to fade from her mind. Bleep bloop bwop-bwop-bwop.
She was typically late to rise, yes, but as Morgan found herself leaving REM (Daysleeper, anyone?), an unfamiliar, tinny clatter made her acutely aware she wasn’t in her bed, or even her home. Eyes remained closed for a moment as she sucked in a deep breath, held it, and then released it thoroughly as if to deflate herself entirely. One eye opened, then the other – a Herculean effort as her vision swam and she struggled to place the, well, place she had ended up. Flashes of last night began to return to her.
Bar. Stranger. Missing arm. Burned art gallery. Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey. Sad and vulnerable discussion. Dead husband, dead brother. Couch. Puppy! Now I’m here.
“Shit,” Morgan muttered, brushing hair from her face with a clumsy hand. She smelled coffee grounds, but hated to make herself any more of an imposition than she already had. After another few fortifying breaths, she swung herself up to a seated position on the couch. Morgan groaned a little – whether the whiskey would be merciful on her this morning was yet to be determined. She kept her voice low for everyone’s sake as she stage-whispered. “Metzli? Oh, what time is it… I should get out of here…”
—
After a beat Molly resumed her coffee making venture. She’d recovered the percolator to the upright position and readied her grounds. It only took two clicks for the gas stove top to come alive and begin warming the vessel. For a few moments she thought she’d avoided any sort of welcome to the stranger and it was somewhat of a relief. It wasn’t the first time someone had ended up in her apartment - no, their apartment, thanks to Metzli. But it would’ve been one of the first times that Molly had truly encountered the guest.
Relief dissipated, though, as she heard a groan and then a whisper cut through the quiet on the other side of the thin wall that separated the kitchen and living area. She sighed quietly to herself and then moved carefully to the edge of the threshold between the two spaces. A thin baby blue robe was tied loosely around her body revealing a soft pink plaid shirt and shorts pj set. Molly’s hair was pulled back in a loose, somewhat messy bun with wavy strands framing her face and she donned a pair of slippers in a shade of blue that mostly matched the robe. At least she’d had the forethought to come out of her room in something modest.
“Sorry, I think Metzli’s already left for the morning.” They’d texted Molly to check in and offer a late-morning coffee run after they’d finished their errand. They’d failed to mention their guest - not that it mattered. “I’m Molly. It’s still early.” She didn’t know what time it was, truthfully. “Would you like some coffee?” The offer came naturally, with complete disregard for who the person was or what relation they’d had with Metzli the night before (again, not that it mattered!). “I have tea, too, if coffee’s too much.”
—
Morgan didn’t remember mention of a roommate, just the dog. Honestly, she hadn’t done something like this since college, before she’d met her husband, and was romanticizing the idea of slipping out quietly without a word. But she needed to find her purse, get her phone, maybe call a cab so she could get to her car. She smacked her lips a little and could taste the residual sourness of whiskey on her tongue. Eugh. The romcoms always made this sort of thing seem so easy, so glamorous in its own grungy way.
She was still wearing her clothes from last night – reassuring, at least – as she quietly tried to paw around for her things. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway and she felt like she’d been caught with her pants down (nope, still there). Morgan offered an awkward smile to the woman (she was cute), the bathrobe situation really lending to the romcom vibe. But whose rom was she com-mandeering?
“Ah, shoot,” Morgan said. “No worries. I wasn’t in a state to drive home last night, so Metzli let me crash on the couch. I wanted to thank them before I left.” She yawned, stretching her hands above her head and then wrapping her trademark green jacket a little tighter around herself in the crisp morning air. Her head was a little fuzzy, but it seemed the worst of a hangover would be avoided. “Uh, coffee would be great, but I don’t want to impose.”
Of course, requesting the coffee would prolong the awkward encounter, but she wouldn’t want to drive home without a little pick-me-up for good measure. She stood, brushed a hand through her hair, and then offered the other to the stranger. Nearer to the other woman, a stray thought occurred to her.
(Oh, god, this probably looks like we had sex. That we had less than satisfactory sex and Metzli left and didn’t tell their roommate and hoped I’d disappear. Or that I’m just absolutely incapable of holding my liquor. Not that I’d be offended if Metzli did want to hook up, but it wasn’t like that at all. Is she wondering that? Are they roommates, or more than that?)
“I’m Morgan, by the way.” She pauses. “I just want to clarify we didn’t have sex.”
—
“Oh, that’s alright!” She shook her head, “I don’t mind - I’d much rather someone stay here than all of the possible alternatives.” And she’d meant it. Not that anyone needed Molly’s blessing to stay, especially not at an invitation from Metzli. It was no secret that they’d kept her best interest in mind.
Molly watched as the woman stretched and then wrapped the jacket tighter around herself. Her gaze was in danger of lingering too long before the offer for coffee was accepted. “You’re not imposing one bit.” She offered with a gentle shake of her head. “I promise.” And again, Molly meant that. At the outstretched hand, Molly reached for hers and felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. It’s really just fine, Molly. She told herself. They were roommates and roommates brought people home. It wasn’t always to sleep together, but even if that had been why someone new was in the apartment it would’ve been okay! She gave the hand a gentle shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Morgan.” Just as Molly was letting go, she heard Morgan’s addition to her introduction. And she laughed softly. It was a laugh that was mixed with nervousness and relief. Especially because she could’ve sworn that handshake was loaded but Molly couldn’t quite describe how or why she thought that.
Molly tried as hard as she could to stay in control of the look on her face as she looked at Morgan curiously, still sensing some nerves. “Oh!” Now she was grinning nervously, “Metzli and I aren’t -” Well, they aren’t now. “I mean, we just..” Wow, words were hard and now she was sure that her face was flushed. “We’re roommates. They’re my best friend.” If best friends had been previously sleeping together super regularly and then had to stop because everything had gotten too emotional. “It’s okay. I mean, the clarification is great. I wasn’t sure…” Nope. Stop right there, Molly.
“I’m gonna make us some coffee!” As she spoke she gestured back towards the kitchen and disappeared through the entry way to ready two mugs. “The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left, if you need it. You’re welcome to freshen up there before you go.”
—
Morgan smiled, but inside she was mentally kicking herself for that (Good job, you absolute weirdo. Now she thinks that you’re thinking about whether she is or isn’t having sex with her roommate). Their hands touched and it was almost electric how awkward things felt for just a second. But maybe that was just in Morgan’s head. Molly turning to make coffee was second only in relief to being taken out by an unexpected sniper, at this point. Plus, Morgan’s head still hurt from the alcohol. Ughhh.
“Coffee sounds amazing, thank you,” she said, taking the offer of reprieve to scuttle to the bathroom to hopefully set her head (or at least her hair) right.
She was honestly surprised by, but didn’t comment on, the fact that Metzli and Molly were just roommates. At their age, she figured they would be something like partners… but maybe that was just her own assumption about cohabitating with other adults. Again, she was kind of out of practice regarding anything but waking up next to her loving husband. And Morgan hoped she hadn’t given Metzli any sort of mixed signals about her own interest level.
In the mirror, the woman poked and prodded at herself. She cupped tap water into her hand and bowed her head, swishing around the mouthful in hopes that it would get her clean, or at least freshen up any sour alcohol crud she had going on. Ptoo. Next came a splash at her face, grabbing whatever towel seemed least personal to pat herself dry. Morgan adjusted a few hairs, noting the number of grays she had coming in in a streak far less impressive than Metzli’s, and then returned to the living room.
“I’m sorry, Molly, I didn’t mean to suggest anything about you and Metzli by my comment,” she said softly, her turn to lean at the divide between the kitchen door and the other woman. “I’m glad you two are good friends. They’re very kind, from what I remember of last night. I don’t usually end up like that, I’ll admit. Some emotions were just hitting me too hard and I let my self control get away from me.”
—
“Perfect!” she replied as Morgan headed down the hall. When Molly heard the click of the bathroom doorknob she looked down at the steaming percolator and released a sigh. Was it one of relief or nerves? She had no business feeling this way, really. What did it matter if they had been together? Molly didn’t have a leg to stand on in this situation as she herself had been seeing someone else, too. Daniel had stayed over more times than Molly could count and though her and Metzli hadn’t talked about it that much, she could sense an unease about the way they felt about him. The feeling was mutual from Daniel, but Molly figured as long as she was okay and seemingly happy, the two of them would coexist as needed for her.
That was a weird thought. (Okay, Bella..)
She busied herself by pouring two cups of coffee and setting her sweetened creamer on the counter, and milk to give Morgan an option if she’d wanted. Molly prepared her own cup with just enough creamer to cut the bitterness from the beans but not too much that it drowned out the taste.
Morgan was quick on her return and Molly heard her voice as she gave her coffee one last stir. She turned to face the woman who now stood in the doorway of the kitchen and offered a genuine smile. Molly was also somewhat surprised by the remark. “Oh, it’s okay..” So surprised that she wasn’t sure right off how to reply. She just needed a beat. “I didn’t help matters by stumbling over my words like a fool a few minutes ago. They’re very kind. The last thing they would do is leave a new friend without a way home or place to stay after a rough night. Or a good night. Their kindness knows no bounds.” It was something Molly loved about them.
Molly felt Morgan’s next couple of words deep within her bones. “I know too well about emotions hitting too hard, out of nowhere most of the time. Paying no mind to the situation you’re in…” It’d be nice if they’d be mindful of that. She’d rather cry in the privacy of her home than behind the shelves of a bookshop, or bathroom of a bar. “I’m sorry you experienced that last night.” And she meant it. Then she turned and reached for a mug. “I have creamer if you’d like, or milk and sugar.” She nodded towards the items on the counter and extended the mug to Morgan. “Help yourself.”
—
“It’s okay. Honestly, I don’t think anyone can blame you for not being perfectly prepared for witty banter with the stranger who fell asleep on your couch,” Morgan reassured her. Case in point, she hadn’t exactly been a sparkling conversationalist just a few minutes ago. She hoped she was more coherent talking to Metzli, but after as much whiskey as she’d had, it was anyone’s guess. “Thanks.”
She set about making her cup of coffee – Morgan never minded something a little sweet, but she did appreciate a bitter wakeup after a night of drinking. Still, she fixed herself a cup with some creamer and tested a sip before deciding whether to throw anything more in there. “Yeah, Metzli seems very kind. I’m surprised this place isn’t crawling with stray animals too, a raccoon here or there, or maybe a possum,” she laughed. She had gotten acquainted with Fluffy and imagined he might not be a fan of too many unexpected lodgers.
Still, Molly’s mention of understanding made Morgan wonder what it was that caused her to feel sad. It’d be strange to pry, especially so soon after meeting. But whether it was the bartender or the support group leader in her, she couldn’t help but want to offer a hand. “I’m sorry you know that feeling too. If it’s anything you’d ever feel comfortable with discussing in a group setting, I actually host a support group a few times a month – it’s for people whose lives have been… challenged by some of the weirder parts of Wicked’s Rest. Sometimes there are just things that you can’t explain… but the group is very open-minded.”
It was as good an explanation as she could give without outright revealing the truth of vampires, werewolves, and killer worms.
“But there’s no pressure. It helps me a lot, especially when I don’t have to focus on just my feelings. That’s part of why I enjoy talking to folks when I bartend as well. What do you do for a living?”
—
Now that was funny. Molly chuckled before bringing her coffee to her lips and sipping slowly. It wasn’t a chai latte, and Molly knew her barista skills faltered in comparison to Metzli’s, but it would suffice for this morning.
“Ah, if we had a bigger space I suppose that might be the case.” Though she wasn’t sure how Ophelia would feel about an opossum or raccoon running around - or perhaps it should’ve been the other way around. Ophelia was still young and with more active companions there was no telling what they’d get into. (It was a good thing Molly hadn’t opted for an orange cat instead!) “It’s just Fluffy and then my cat, Ophelia, for now. If you happen to see a black cat slinking around, she’s mine.” Hopefully she hadn’t bothered Morgan overnight. Sometimes she was perfectly content sleeping away or keeping herself occupied in Molly or Metzli’s room but on occasion she’d wreak havoc in the night, bumping around the apartment looking for trouble.
Molly wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting from Morgan, but the offer to join a support group wasn’t at all close. It was kind, though, and immediately piqued her interest. For people who have been challenged by the weirder parts of Wicked’s Rest.. So perhaps Morgan understood more than Molly knew - not that she knew much because she’d literally just met her, but still. “Oh!” A brow quirked as a look of genuine interest fell across her face. “Thank you for the offer.” Molly hadn’t thought about looking into local groups but it sure as hell would beat trying to be cryptic on the internet, which is how she’d been so far inquiring about the storms and things she’d seen or heard around town.
“I think I’d like that, actually.” And again, here Morgan was speaking words that rang true to Molly, like she was literally speaking her emotional language, if there ever was such a thing. “I’m a big fan of ignoring my own feelings.. I’m my therapist’s worst nightmare.” She joked. It was a bad joke, she knew it, and it wasn’t necessarily true, but perhaps Morgan understood what she meant. And if that was the case Molly felt bad for her. But it made sense now that she was a bartender. Conversation seemed to come easy and Molly liked that.
After another sip of her coffee she smiled, shoulders a bit more relaxed than they’d been before. “I work in the theatre. I’m currently a professor at the university but I’ve worked on a lot of projects as a costume designer and director. I love talking to people and helping share stories about the human experience.” (And the not so human when the shrimp at The Stage Below were involved.) It was nice. “I’m sure you’ve heard some great stories that would translate well to the stage.”
–
“Aww. I don’t think I spotted her, but I’ll keep an eye out,” Morgan smiled. She so badly would love to have a pet, but couldn’t imagine her schedule would be fair to any sort of animal. She’d love a dog, maybe walking it would keep her more active, but… not right now. She’d think about it, though.
She nodded at Molly. “Again, no pressure. We’re no substitute for professional help, but sometimes it just feels reassuring to know you’re not alone when weird, upsetting things happen around here.” Morgan wished she had a handy guidebook that had answers for everything in town – something like the Watcher’s guide in Buffy, even including the broody vampires. Maybe especially the broody vampires. And a helpful page to tell her exactly what it was that killed Bradley, all dark limbs and bloody teeth and eyes like pits where light went to die.
Anyways.
“Hey, if you’re the worst nightmare a therapist in Wicked’s Rest could have, I’d consider them pretty lucky,” she chuckled. “I get it. The dreaded ‘how does that make you feel’ makes me feel like I want to go put on a movie and sit on the couch for a while.”
Morgan sipped her coffee and nodded, eyebrows raising in genuine intrigue at the mention of Molly’s profession. “Oh wow, theater. That’s so cool. My, uh, late husband worked at the University. In the financial department.” She wondered if Molly had ever had to interface with him for funding for a production or something. The bartender envied those with creative capacity – not enough to let the jealousy fester, but enough to make herself wonder whether or not she could make art if she tried. “Sometimes bartending is like having a ticket to a one-man show when the barflies start monologuing.”
She said it without derision – Morgan knew she too had a tendency to talk at length about any number of things. But she knew where Molly was coming from there.
“Yeah, at the end of the day, I’m just grateful for the human connection. I’m a big fan of movies for the same reason, but… I think it’s important to let people talk about those things. Those messy feelings, the memories they don’t want to forget, or the ones they can’t really remember all the way… I know I just said I don’t like to talk about my feelings, but I could tell stories about me and Brad on the boardwalk until I lose my voice. I don’t want to tell someone how sad I feel that he’s gone, I want to remind people that he took up space in this world and I can still feel it even if he’s not here. Anyways, I’d love to come see one of your shows sometime.”
—
For a moment it seemed as though Morgan’s mind went elsewhere. Had she experienced something upsetting here? Molly was in no place to pry. They’d only just met and the last thing she wanted to do was turn this conversation into an interrogation. And besides, she wasn’t entitled to any information from Morgan. It wasn’t like she went around sharing her business with strangers either.
“Oh, no, mine is still back in New York. I couldn’t let her go when I moved away. But now I think I might need to find someone locally.” You know, she wanted to say, because of all of the weird shit that I can’t talk about with someone who has no idea. She’d been so, so vague in one of her last discussions with her current therapist that she felt bad. Ever since Molly’d been dodging her. “I’m not sure she’d understand my life now.” Though she’d been supportive through the separation with Roger, at times feeling more like a friend than just a therapist. Molly admired her boundary setting skills.
Late husband. The words echoed in her mind, but Morgan’s face didn’t flinch and Molly wasn’t about to let anything boil over unwarranted. “I’ve only had to contact them once but they were very nice.” Molly wasn’t sure how to say that she’d only been at the university for two years so she wasn’t sure if he had still.. been there. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she brought up the monologuing barflies. Then took another sip of her coffee. “I can imagine some are fairly unforgettable..” And probably in such a way that Morgan wished she could forget.
As she went on, and then name dropped said husband, Molly felt an ache in her heart. To love someone so deeply, only to have to memorialize them for the rest of your life. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t cause a bit of guilt on her own behalf. Molly wanted to forget so much about her former husband, and she’d felt guilty for it because it hadn’t all been so bad. He’d just become the center of her universe for two decades and then he hurt her so she’d wanted to forget. Life hadn’t been fair to either of these women.
“That’s what I love so much about the theatre and storytelling..” Molly’s voice was quiet as she spoke, having let the moment between them simmer for a few seconds because what Morgan had said really touched her heart. “Plays, specifically. I enjoy musicals, don’t get me wrong, but plays tend to force the audience to sit with moments. There’s not always a pace to follow because of music, or a big reveal for the sake of the plot. A lot of plays are just moments - good, bad, heartwrenching.. There’s no wow factor to it” And beautiful moments like recalling times on a boardwalk were some of her favorites.
“I’ve kept a fairly low profile with the theatre scene here. But I might try to direct something within the next year or so. I recently worked on costumes for a musical. That was fun.” Fun was a word. “Where do you bartend?” Would it be weird of Molly to visit Morgan at work? She’d enjoyed their conversation thus far and as long as it wouldn’t be odd, she’d like to learn more about Morgan. And of course she had invited Molly to the support group but a bar felt much more casual.
—
“Oh, New York! That’s so fun. But I can understand the desire for someone more familiar with the way Wicked’s Rest works.” Morgan was glad she has the support group. She couldn’t imagine trying to explain some of the things she’s seen to someone who didn’t at least have an inkling that sometimes you’d encounter a weird creature or end up the target of a spell gone odd. Still, even for those aware of the way this town could be, not everyone understood everything.
Morgan nodded and said, “Well, let’s just pretend if you ever had to request extra funding, that Brad was helping out behind the scenes.” She knew he loved the arts, even if they’d never actually ended up seeing a play at the university. They did go to a few sports games and a student art exhibit, but it always felt a little weird to be there without a child of their own to support. “A lot of moments with no wow factor – I think a lot of people might be living in plays and not even realizing it,” she laughed.
In her youth, many would have said the same about her. Morgan was about as unremarkable as they came. But where she excelled, where she’d always excelled, was making those little moments as big as they could be while they lasted. “Musicals are fun but I think they’re a little goofy. I think movies are the right mix of soundtrack for emphasis and dramatic storytelling.” But she could appreciate a play. Probably not all the nuance of every line, but she liked the emotions of it. It was easy to tell when an actor didn’t believe the feeling they were trying to tell everyone they felt, though. “Costumes, that’s fun! Please do tell me if you work on something, I’d love to check it out.”
Being asked where she bartended was nothing to be ashamed of, but Morgan sometimes felt a little silly introducing it to adult strangers. Not all of them were as fun-loving as she was, but Molly didn’t seem the type to judge. “I’m actually part owner of Another Castle Arcade. There’s a whole gastropub section, we’ve got some pretty good food. It’s not a traditional bar, though, so I understand it’s not everyone’s scene.”
—
“Definitely.” Molly nodded slowly at the thought of Brad helping them out. The idea even brought her a little bit of comfort, so she could only imagine how it made Morgan feel to think he’d helped out. It was just a sliver of something, a thin piece of twine to hold on to, but sometimes that’s what one needed.
“And I agree about movies. I think a lot of moments are made better with a score beneath them.” Morgan was right about musicals, too. Though there were some incredible stories and tales of heartbreak, tragedy, and even death woven within the lyrics of songs for musicals. “I’ll let you know. My last project involved,” Molly paused, as if saying the word aloud would summon one. “Shrimp.. At The Stage Below..” She’d only just gone back but already felt that she needed a break from that place.
Morgan’s answer provided Molly the relief she needed, to keep herself from thinking about said shrimp. “Oh, Another Castle, neat!” Then she was immediately reminded of her adventure there with Daniel. Anxiety spiked briefly within her chest but she took another sip of coffee to distract herself. Because coffee cures anxiety, right? “I’ve been there. But I only had one drink then had to go..” Only had one drink, then got pulled into a real life game of Frogger, had to be rescued from drowning, and then had to immediately leave because my date and I ended up soaking wet and mildly traumatized. Maybe that was a story for the support group.
“I need to go back, and I’m intrigued by the gastropub. And you.” The last two words slipped out as if they were two additional items Molly had thrown in her arms during a ‘quick’ grocery run where she didn’t get a basket or a cart. Like the two items tumbled out of her arms and onto the floor unexpectedly. Why she’d felt embarrassed all of the sudden she didn’t know. She wasn’t good at making friends organically. All of her friends outside of Wicked’s Rest were made through school or work, or Roger. “I mean, you seem pretty cool, and I’d like to hang out properly. Not that standing here in my kitchen having coffee isn’t proper, but.. You know.”
—
“Shrimp!” Morgan’s remark was full of surprise and only a little laughter – she didn’t immediately want to make fun of Molly’s work after being genuinely interested in it. She stifled the worst of her amusement and just nodded. “Sounds pretty interesting. Y’know, even coming from California, there’s something about the way a Maine town really loves its seafood that I don’t think I’ve seen anywhere else.”
Morgan beamed as the other woman seemed to draw connection to the name of the business, but she sensed a spark of something else. Was it fear? Concern? Strange, since the arcade only ever gave the bartender a sense of comfort and a little bit of a tension headache on days where the weird parts of Wicked’s Rest decided to rear their heads. But mostly just the first thing. She didn’t want to pry, so she shrugged and said, “Well, I’d be happy to mix you another drink sometime if you do stop by. A lot of the menu was my doing,” Morgan said proudly. “Stop by any time.”
Molly’s words caught her unaware for a moment. This wasn’t the first time someone had said they were intrigued by her, and Morgan was beginning to wonder if that was code for something. But it wasn’t said with malice. So she sipped her coffee and smiled. “Aw, thank you. I think that’s the first time someone’s described me as cool since the ‘90s,” she laughed. “I’d love to spend more time with you too. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of Metzli, but I promise not to let it be because I got too drunk to drive home. But I get what you mean, and seriously, thank you so much for letting me intrude like this.”
She checked her phone and finally caught the time. Morgan sighed a little and finished her drink. “I should probably get going. Not that this hasn’t been a lovely conversation, I just… I’m all thrown off from last night. Thank you again, Molly.”
—
“It’s okay, you can laugh..” Molly reminded Morgan with a shrug. It was just as absurd as it sounded. “This place definitely has an affinity for it.” And worms.
If Molly wore the anxiety on her face (and she did, there was no doubt), Morgan didn’t say anything. A fleeting quizzical look danced across Morgan’s face but she didn’t question Molly’s reaction and for that she was grateful. Her shoulders relaxed again. “I’d like that! I also really wanted to play Mortal Kombat II during that visit so I’ll need to actually play that next time.” Unless there’s any chance that I’d get sucked into the game in real life and in that case maybe not, she thought to herself. She wouldn’t stand a chance - Scorpion would have her dead in no time.
“Really?” Molly couldn’t help but be surprised. She’d known Morgan for less than an hour and was already interested. “You own a barcade; as a child of the 80’s that’s like the coolest adult thing ever.” Now she was showing her age but for one of the first times in recent memory it didn’t matter. Morgan didn’t seem like one to judge Molly based on the fact that she was in her 40s. “But I promise you weren’t intruding. You’re welcome anytime.” And Molly meant it. Even if she had been an unexpected guest Molly couldn’t complain.
“Of course.” Molly said with a nod as she noticed Morgan checking the time. She needed to get ready herself anyway - for what she didn’t really know but Morgan’s sense of urgency now inspired that of her own. Or maybe it was just the caffeine. “Like I said, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to offer the couch anytime.” She gave another shrug and quick glance in the direction of the living room before looking at Morgan again. “I’ll see you around.”
TIMING: current
LOCATION: wicked's rest state park
PARTIES: @mollyhiatt & @danielabrams
SUMMARY: molly goes out on a limb and decides to hike alone with daniel as a guide. the two find an unexpected connection through hobbies and somewhat unspoken grief.
CONTENT WARNINGS: sibling death mention, emotional abuse mention, divorce & infidelity mention (just in case)
Molly wasn’t exactly what one might call outdoorsy. In fact, hiking wasn’t something she had done much at all in her adult life. Now, to be fair, she had spent all of adulthood living in cities, and her ex-husband wasn’t much for getting out in nature either. So one might forgive her for confusing a lack of enjoyment of hiking for what was actually a lack of exposure. Whatever the reason, she just didn’t consider herself to be a nature girl. But maybe a move to a new town and divorce could be an excuse for a chance to start over.
She had been in Wicked’s Rest for about a year now and was slowly but surely getting better at seeking out local things to do in the area. After combing through some online info she came across Wicked’s Rest State Park. Molly felt a bundle of nerves in her stomach at the thought of venturing out into the wilderness, especially knowing what she had come across about Wicked’s Rest. But surely a State Park couldn’t be so bad? Plus, she discovered an option to opt to hike with a local guide. If there was going to be a time as any to take a little leap of faith, she figured this must be it.
Prior to her hike she had been sure to prepare a small pack of essentials (based on recommendations from the online tourism boards) and secure some new hiking books. They felt clunky and awkward at first but Molly was hopeful she’d get used to them throughout the day. Much to her surprise, the weather even seemed to be in her favor. She had awoken to a foggy morning with overcast skies. She kept reminding herself that it was going to be a nice day. That was something she found herself doing a lot of lately, giving herself little pep talks before leaving the house to do something out of her comfort zone.
Another reminder that she could do this crossed her mind as she approached the Park Ranger Station that morning. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the straps of the small backpack that settled on her shoulders and a light and calming mist seemed to linger in the morning air. With a smile on her face she walked into the station and greeted the person inside. “Hi,” Molly said, hoping to mask the fact that she was nervous. She sort of felt like a kid on the first day of school. “I’m Molly, I’m supposed to be meeting a guide for a short hike this morning.”
—-
Daniel arrived at the state park earlier than usual for his guided hike. He wanted to chat with whichever park rangers were working that morning. He needed to gather some information on who had a hunting cabin that he could use in the winter. His plan was to befriend the rangers and his coworkers at the outfitter; outdoorsy people often had information that could be useful for him. He spotted two rangers that he sort of knew, and he followed them into the ranger station. He greeted the ranger at the front desk but kept moving towards the other two. He already knew they didn’t have a cabin.
“Look, I know bananas don’t grow here, but I saw two growing on a bush,” he overheard one of the rangers explaining to the other. Great, more bananshee talk, he thought to himself, growing tired of hearing about the pestering fae. He joined in on the conversation but directed it away from talking about all the supernatural beings they’d spotted over the last few weeks. Sometimes he tried to do his job as a hunter and keep humans from talking about the supernatural. Plus, he was on a mission to find somewhere to live in the winter. Preferably somewhere free. Maybe even somewhere where no one would even know he was there. It wouldn’t be the first time he squatted in a hunting cabin.
As Daniel chatted, he noticed someone else enter the station. He heard her say something about meeting with a guide. The ranger at the front looked back towards him and waved him over. Daniel said bye to the two rangers and walked to the front. “Hey, that’ll be me,” he greeted. “I’m Daniel. Let’s head over to the trailhead.” He motioned towards the door and walked outside with her. He looked forward to the hike today as he figured it would be calmer than his usual groups. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of a group of five or more people—especially when some people liked to wander into the woods. They all wanted to find the alleged cryptids in the state park. They seemed to think a guided hike meant they would see Tendrilla or Bigfeet or something. A short hike with one person would be less of a headache for him.
Daniel walked with her towards the trailhead. “So for our short hike today, I thought we could hike out to a waterfall,” he explained. “It’s a nice day for it.” He went through the usual talk about safety and first aid. His hiking pack contained everything they could possibly need—a first aid kit, a satellite phone, emergency equipment, and snacks. He started bringing snacks with him in his mid-twenties when he learned that some people don’t realize how much energy they use on hikes, and those people never brought snacks. He’d rather keep people fed than deal with someone feeling unwell. “I know that was a lot of information, but this will all be easy and chill,” Daniel told her. “How much hiking experience you got?”
—-
“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel.” She said as he greeted her. That was an easy check-in. See, so far so good, she thought to herself. Molly followed Daniel out of the ranger station and towards the trailhead. For the entirety of the short walk she found that her eyes stayed glued to the ground, praying she wouldn’t trip and fall. That’d really be just her luck. Molly wasn’t necessarily uncoordinated but hiking was new to her. She preferred to traverse terrain without obstacles just to be safe. Hiking in a State Park in a place crawling with the supernatural? She was really out of her comfort zone today. This would warrant two days home alone to recover but for now the focus was the hike.
As they walked and Daniel explained the hike and rules, Molly’s impressed. She knew hiking could be involved and that it took a lot of care and planning to ensure that people were safe and had a good time. She just didn’t realize how much forethought it truly took. She thought to bring two granola bars, a bottle of water, a couple of bandaids, and a tiny flashlight but after hearing Daniel’s explanation she realized she hadn’t come as prepared as she could’ve.
“A waterfall hike sounds lovely.” Molly replied, eyes meeting Daniel only for a moment before they returned to the ground. “I honestly don’t have a lot of hiking experience.” She told him, “I know I did some smaller hikes as a kid but as an adult I think the closest thing I’ve managed is walking through Central Park… Which I realize isn’t really the same at all.” It was kind of embarrassing now, thinking about how little she had truly enjoyed nature as an adult. And she couldn’t help but wonder if her situation had been different if she would’ve ventured out on her own or in the presence of different people. “I guess I don’t get out much, but I’m looking forward to today.”
—
Daniel nodded along as he listened to Molly. “Sounds similar to plenty of other folks,” he shared. “You’re right that Central Park isn’t exactly the same. But this ain’t gonna be anything complicated. Just, you know, watch out for tree roots and rocks. There’ll be some elevation at the beginning of the hike and then a bit more once we get closer to the waterfall. So, you know.” He paused for a moment. “But it’ll be worth it. It’s a gorgeous tall waterfall.” He smiled, thinking about how he enjoyed hiking to the waterfall. Even on overcast days the sun still found a way to bounce off the water as it poured down the cliffside.
“Shall we?” he motioned his head towards the trail, and he began their trek along the trail. He chose to walk alongside her for the beginning of the hike. Typically, he walked in front of the groups, leaning into the guide part of his job, but he thought that it made sense for now to begin next to her. He could move in front of her later on, once he figured out more about what she wanted. Sometimes people wanted a guide who hiked along in silence and answered questions when asked, while others wanted a chatty interactive guide who acted like a friend. Everyone had their own preferences, even within those two categories. Daniel learned how to blend his personality to fit with the expectations of clients. Sometimes he felt like an actor performing for an audience due to how much he changed himself on each hike.
“Seeing as how you don’t hike much, what made you decide to do this?” Daniel inquired.
—
Molly was relieved to hear that Daniel had encountered others who were in a similar situation to her. The last thing she wanted today was to be judged for her lack of experience. She was hopeful they wouldn’t give a person who does judge people for their lack of experience the charge of giving guided hikes but she had been surprised by so many things in Wicked’s Rest she wouldn’t have been surprised if that were the case. “I will definitely watch out for tree roots and rocks.” Molly replied, eyes again glued to the ground already, expecting to encounter some even before the start of the hike. She appreciated the warning about the elevation change as well. She had no problem with elevations on the treadmill or on general walks around the city so she was hopeful this wouldn’t be much different. Now, Molly was just looking forward to seeing the waterfall.
“We shall.” She nodded in response as Daniel motioned towards the trail. She allowed her eyes the chance to look up and take in the sight of the entrance for the trail, especially if this turned out to be something that she did enjoy. Molly was nervous but hopeful for a positive experience. Daniel already seemed welcoming and attentive.
As they began to walk side by side along the trail, Molly tried her best to keep her eyes on the ground beneath her feet while also admiring the beauty of the forest in front of her. It sure was peaceful out here. At Daniel’s question, she took in a soft but deep breath as if preparing herself for a reveal. “I’m trying to get out and experience more of what Wicked’s Rest has to offer.” She explained. “I’ve only lived here for about a year but I’ve spent a lot of time throwing myself into work and I’m just trying to create a better work and life balance. I guess trying new things is a part of that process for me.” And hopefully some healthy habits like walking would help with her healing journey post heartbreak. “Are you from here?” She inquired. From the sound of his accent so far she expected the answer to be no but thought she’d ask anyway.
—
Daniel couldn’t relate to wanting to get to know Wicked’s Rest. He hoped he wouldn’t have to be here for more than a year, and even one year felt like it was too long. His actual work—his tracking and hunting—kept him moving to new towns, never staying in one place for too long. He’d yet to find a place that made him want to stick around for a long time. Well, he felt attached to one place, his homecounty, but he couldn’t go back there. Jumping from place to place felt easier.
Work and life balance. What a concept! Work consumed Daniel. He always felt on high alert, as if he couldn’t truly relax. Anything could happen at any moment. Then, of course, there was his day job. “I think it’s impossible for me to separate work and life. I hike and explore the outdoors for fun, and then I go do the same thing for work. Hard to keep that separated,” he joked.
“Nah, not from around here,” he answered. “From down in Virginia. I promise I know my stuff about nature in Maine though.” He looked over towards Molly, noticing how she focused on the ground. He made a mental note to find something interesting to point out to her as they hiked. “Been here near two months now, so I got nothing to suggest for things to do around here. I mean, I got a list of restaurant suggestions we tell tourists, but I ain’t actually been to them.” Daniel shrugged his shoulders. “You mentioned Central Park, yeah? You from New York City?”
—
Molly couldn’t help but chuckle as Daniel explained his work and life balance dilemma. She figured it made sense for someone who loved the outdoors so much. She couldn’t help but wonder if he, like herself, found his job to be less of a job and more like a calling. Molly loved telling stories of the human experience so much so that working on productions hardly felt like work at all - up until recently. But she wasn’t going to let the thought of that struggle dampen her morning.
“I believe you.” She told him with a smile. Molly briefly glanced his way before her gaze became focused on possible hazards on the ground once more. Now she was worried about twisting an ankle. “I won’t lie, it’s kind of nice to meet someone who’s a little more new than me.” Molly teased. She had the thought to ask him what brought him to a place like Wicked’s Rest but also thought that might be a question for later in the conversation. “And, well, I lived in New York City for a while, about thirteen years. I’m originally from a small town in Vermont.” She explained, “Sometimes Wicked’s Rest reminds me of home, but other times it’s like I’m on another planet.” Most of the time if she were being completely honest. “But right before moving here I lived in Nashville so I’ve traveled through Virginia a few times but have never stopped for longer than a break from the car. The mountains are stunning.”
One thing that did make Wicked’s Rest feel like home were the mountains. Though Molly loved her time in New York City and would forever be grateful for the experiences the city bestowed upon her, she was a mountain girl. So maybe spending more time out in nature would heal her soul. “I also haven’t been to enough of the restaurants here, otherwise I’d offer a testimonial to give to tourists looking for a good place to eat. Maybe that can be another goal, help a local tour guide with recommendations.” Another smile graced her lips as leaves and dirt crunched beneath her feet.
—
“Sounds like you’ve also lived all over the place,” Daniel commented. “At least you’ll be used to the winters up here then. Being from Vermont and all. I’m used to cold winters and snowstorms, but not sure how things will go for me here.” He thought about hunting cabins again but shoved that out of his mind. Later problem. It was still not too bad in the camper. God, he’d probably need to find a snowmobile too. No, no, later problem. “I’m from them Virginia mountains. If you’re ever back down that ways, you should go exploring there. If you end up liking hiking, there’s plenty of it. It’s where I started doing this whole hiking guide thing.”
He chuckled while thinking about Wicked’s Rest. “I know I’ve been here a short while, but I swear, this place is another planet. I’ve had some of the strangest conversations with people.” He trailed off for a moment, thinking about some of those odd conversations. He was about to mention all the strange, clearly supernatural events in the area, such as the random isle that appeared since his arrival but decided against bringing up the supernatural nonsense. Although Daniel didn’t care much about exploring the town, he didn’t mind the idea of offering actual suggestions to people. “Testimonials would be good. I steal whatever my coworkers say about their favorite meals and act as if they’re my own,” he joked. “I might could think of a local guide in need of a restaurant tour.”
Up ahead on the trail, a fallen tree blocked their path, and they couldn’t go around it on either side. “You up for some climbing?” Daniel asked with a grin. It wasn’t difficult to get over the fallen tree, especially as it barely reached his chest. He found a spot for his foot, grabbed onto one of the branches, and lifted himself onto the tree. He swung one of his legs over to the other side of the tree and then the other leg. He sat on the tree and jumped down. His feet splashed into a puddle, and they slid a little in the mud. “It’s a little slippery on this side,” he told Molly as he turned back towards her. He offered his hand out to her. “In case you need help.”
—
A soft smile settled across her lips as Daniel spoke of Virginia and hiking in the mountains. Again, Molly had always thought of herself as someone who didn’t get out much but his enthusiasm about it had her thinking she might like to start exploring more. His passion was infectious. Though maybe she would hold off on planning her next big adventure until after she made it home injury free today. “I love winter in the northeast.” She told him, “January can be brutal but the snow covered mountain views are magnificent!” Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention of snow. She missed that while they lived in Nashville. “And I’ll definitely try to stop in Virginia next time to do a little exploring.”
When he agreed with her about the strange occurrences, Molly laughed. “I’m glad it’s not just me. Some days I question if this place is even real. I’ve wondered if I’m really in Maine or if I crossed over into some Halloweentown-like portal.” The more she ventured out the weirder things got - which she figured somewhere like this was a given but Molly was surprised every time. “I think I’m trying one of the burger places soon so I’ll be sure to let you know how it is.”
It was nice, Molly thought to herself, to get out like this and enjoy a pleasant conversation and a nice view - though admittedly Molly had mostly been watching the ground as she walked. But with occasional glances up she caught the sight of glorious trees and the canopy overhead. Maine really was gorgeous. She could see why people enjoyed this.
She stopped walking for just a second at Daniel’s question about climbing. “Climbing?” Molly repeated, a little nervous now. What she had signed up for was an easy hike so where did the idea for climbing come from? But after seeing where Daniel was looking, she understood. It was just a tree, a big tree but surely she could handle that. “Oh, that.” She nodded and charged ahead alongside him. Molly was tall, standing near chest height with the tree so while she might not be the most graceful going over, she didn’t think she would struggle too much. Her eyes studied Daniel carefully as he used the branch as support and swung his legs over the downed trunk with ease. She did her best to follow in his tracks, easily managing to straddle the trunk before stopping to swing her other leg over so she faced the other side. Once she was sitting carefully atop the trunk, she looked down at the mud and then to Daniel’s extended hand. She took it immediately and used her other hand to help lower herself down to the ground.
Though she did make it out well across the top of the tree, her descent to the other side was indeed less graceful than she intended. On the way down Molly hesitated and one of her feet managed to slide forward in the mud. “Oh no-” Her other foot had at least made it firmly on the ground but it wasn’t enough to stop her from having to use Daniel to steady herself, bringing her free hand from the tree to his arm. She was only a little embarrassed. “Well, if it wasn’t obvious before that I don’t do this very often, it sure is now.” She had to laugh at herself as she straightened, grounding her feet in the mud beneath her.
—
Snow covered mountains sounded beautiful to Daniel. He enjoyed watching snowflakes softly fall from the sky. He recalled a hunt years ago when he found himself distracted from his mission, and instead he found a fallen tree trunk to sit and watch the snow fall between the trees. Turkeys walked between the trees, gobbling and leaving behind tracks in the snow. He watched and listened to them until his hunting partner shouted for him to come join them. He would have preferred to watch the birds. “Sounds beautiful,” responded Daniel, making a mental note to find time to watch animals in the snow sometime this winter.
“Halloweentown,” Daniel said with a laugh. He hadn’t thought about those movies in years. As kids, he and his sister watched the movies so many times during the months of September and October. The Addams Family show and movies repeatedly played on their television too. The two of them could quote the movies back and forth all year long. “It’s like that or a reverse Addams Family town, where the Addamses are most of the townspeople.” He nodded his head. “Yeah, let me know how it is. I’ll try to force myself to go into town and see what happens there.”
Hearing the nerves in her voice, Daniel realized he probably should have been more specific about the climbing. But he couldn’t hold his excitement over getting to do something besides walking. Even if it was a brief moment of climbing. Sometimes he thought he had far too much energy in his system, which was partially why he did this sort of thing most days for long periods of time. It burnt the restless energy in his system.
Daniel watched as she climbed over the fallen tree. When she grabbed his hand, he stood firmly to act as an anchor for her. At the sound of her oh no, he kept his feet planted to the ground, tightened his grip on her hand, and felt her use her other hand to grab onto his arm. Instinctively, his free arm reached out to her waist to keep her from falling onto the ground. He felt himself slide a little bit, but they both managed to stay upright. He quickly removed his hand from her waist. “You did great,” he complimented. “Hopefully you’ll only have to do this one more time on our way back down.” He stepped away from the muddy spot, not wanting to keep sliding around in it. His eyes glanced down to see that mud splattered across his hiking pants, joining with some of the other random stains that he could never seem to wash off his pants. “You ready to keep going?” he asked. “It’s not much farther til the waterfall.”
—
“Thanks.” Molly told Daniel as she too managed to step away from the puddle. She couldn’t help but notice the mud now splashed across her boots and perhaps she thought that may somehow make her an official outdoor girl now because she couldn’t help but smile down at them before looking at Daniel again. “Yeah, I am ready to keep going.” Despite her fall, Molly was still proud of herself for trying. And with Daniel’s support she didn’t fall so her confidence was still intact. Maybe, just maybe, she thought to herself, she was going to be okay.
“You’re not wrong though, about us basically living in a reverse Addams Family town.” Molly brought up as they continued their hike. “And I have to admit, I’m glad I’m not alone in that line of thought.” She confessed. “It’s not bad, of course, I do like it here. It’s just, really different from what I’m used to.” Though Molly hadn’t encountered anything too out of this world, she had seen comments online about what other residents had seen and it had shaken her. And, at the same time, she truly had enjoyed the people she had met so far, and she liked her job a lot, so she couldn’t complain. It was a strange combination for sure.
“So, what do you like to do for fun, other than hiking?” Molly inquired, glancing at Daniel again. This time she held the gaze for a second longer before looking ahead at the trees for a few seconds longer. Then they met the ground once more. She couldn’t shake the worry about tripping over something.
—
Daniel couldn’t help but nod along as Molly spoke about the town. “Yeah, there’s just something so different about it all,” he said. He was about to bring up how within the brief time he had been working here as a hiking guide, there had been a few disappearances of tourists looking for cryptids. His employer told him that the State Park had an unusually large amount of disappearances compared to other State Parks. But Daniel bit his tongue and didn’t announce that fun little tidbit to her. He mostly knew when to not talk. “It’s definitely a pretty place compared to some places I’ve lived. I’m sure it’s gotta feel different for you too with it being so small in comparison to New York City and Nashville.” Another thought crossed his mind, causing him to laugh lightly. “Feels different for me in the reverse. Kinda large in comparison to the rural world I’m from.” He paused for a moment. “What brought you to Wicked’s Rest, anyhow?”
“Oh, uh…” He paused for a moment, thinking of an answer to her question. What do I do for fun? He stayed silent for what felt like a few seconds too long, or at least to him it felt too long. “I read. Always got a book with me.” Daniel pointed a finger over his shoulder to his hiking pack. “Got one with me right now. Sometimes at the hiking destination, I’ll stroll away from the group to take some time to myself and read a bit while they take photographs or eat their food or whatever.” He waved a hand when he said ‘whatever.’ “What about you?” he asked her.
—
“It really is.” Molly said as she agreed with his remark about how different things are here. If she’d shared half of the things she’d seen or heard about with anyone from back home they’d think she’d gone mad. In a way, it wasn’t that out of this world. Unbeknownst to Molly, until the end of her marriage, she had been married to a supernatural. He hid it well, too well. Molly was a believer now but she found it difficult to trust anything to do with it. So to say she was utterly surprised by her choice of landing after searching for jobs would be an understatement. “And it is strange being somewhere so small again. I wasn’t in New York for much longer than I was at home in Vermont but I lived so much of my life in the city, it feels like I’d been there much longer.” She said and hoped her rambling thoughts made sense.
What brought her here. What a question and what an answer it truly required. For Daniel’s sake, because no one wanted to hear a newly divorced forty year old woman go on about her ended marriage, Molly decided to give the Sparknotes version. “A job search brought me here. I started feeling a little burned out. I had been directing a lot and, well, directing adults who are trying to discover their characters was draining for me at the time.” She was giving everything while simultaneously having everything siphoned from her by her husband. “So I needed to get away and find a position that required less,” she paused, “energy.” As she spoke, her eyes danced between the ground beneath her and the trees ahead. Something about being out here was very calming for her. “What about you? How’d you find your way here?”
Molly kind of appreciated that Daniel seemed to pause and reflect on what he enjoyed. And upon hearing that he was a reader, she felt that feeling of appreciation more deeply. “That’s really nice.” She replied, smiling his way. “Do you have a favorite book? I’m also a reader - I’ve got one with me today, too.” Though she hadn’t once thought she’d have time to actually read it. “I read and I’ve recently taken up crochet.” Theatre was also something she had often participated in for fun but emotionally it had become too much. She missed it, she longed for that connection, but knew it was no longer serving her, so a break was for the best. “I’m not very good at it, but it’s fun to try.”
—
“Directing?” Daniel asked with a raised brow. “Like theater and all that?” He probably had met someone who worked in the arts but didn’t know they did, so hearing this from Molly sounded fascinating to him. “What are you doing here then?” Pause. “I mean, sorry, that didn’t come out like I wanted. I mean, what type of job or work you doing here? I’m not … in tune to theater or arts around town.” He shrugged his shoulders as she asked him the same question. He probably rehearsed this answer so often over the last few years with each time that he moved to a new town. He couldn’t exactly tell anyone that he was tracking and hunting a shifter, so he opted for what seemed like a normal human answer. “I enjoy traveling and going to new places. I like the adventure of it all. Plus, I can be an outdoors guide anywhere with a popular outdoorsy area. Hiking, fishing, kayaking, all sorts of things I’ve done in my life.”
Daniel smiled over towards her. “Seems we both came prepared to read,” he said. “Yeah, I got a few favorites. I think Pet Sematary by Stephen King is one of my favorites right now. Just recently reread it.” He looked up at the cloudy sky as he thought about his next words to say about a book that he had read multiple times since the loss of his sister. “I like what he’s got to say about grief and loss. I—it really—I like it. Makes me think about—one of those books that gets me thinking each time I read it.” In his mind, he expanded more on those brief words, but ever so closed off, Daniel would never say more than that to anyone, not a stranger, friend, or family member. “What’s your favorite book?” Daniel returned the question to her. “And, also importantly, what book you got with you?”
“So crochet, huh? My granny used to do that. I’ve got one of her afghans with very retro colors,” Daniel commented, going back to her mention of crochet. “My sister crocheted too. I’d watch her hands move with the yarn and hook. Sorta mesmerizing to watch.” He realized what he said for a moment. He rarely spoke about his sister to people who didn’t know her, and he had no idea why he said that to Molly. Maybe talking about Pet Sematary took him out of his usual focused mind. “What sort of things do you make?” He wanted to move past his comment on his sister.
As they moved further along the trail, Daniel recognized the trees around them. By now, he memorized the trail from going up and down it so many times. He knew that in a few minutes they would be at the waterfall. He debated telling her or letting it be a surprise when they reached it. “Not much further,” he informed her. “You see that creek?” He pointed towards the creek that now joined them on the western side of the trail. “It flows from the waterfall. It keeps going further and feeds into one of the many smaller lakes in the Park. There’s not a hiking trail like this to it, but it’s one of the off trail backcountry hikes that some people do.”
—
Molly chuckled when Daniel questioned her move and took no offense at all. Maine wasn’t exactly a known hub for the theatre, especially for someone coming from New York City. “No, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” She nodded. It was a fair question. “I started teaching in Nashville at a community college. It was just a theatre appreciation course and I worked with a community theatre there, where I was able to direct.” That was when things really became rough for her. She hadn’t realized it until she left but she was often operating on fumes, unable to give her best to anyone in her life at the time. It wasn’t exactly a fond time to look upon, even without the whole divorce thing. “But I needed to get away so I looked for open teaching jobs in college or university theatre departments and Wicked’s Rest seemed close enough to my home in Vermont.” Meaning it would be familiar. Boy was she naive to think that. And it sounded like Daniel might’ve been in a similar boat, finding a place in need of his skills. “I bet you’ve seen some really beautiful places through your travels. Do you have a favorite spot?”
“Stephen King, good choice.” Molly told him. She hadn’t read anything by him in quite some time but what she had read she’d enjoyed. As he continues to speak, Molly watches his face. First his eyes meet the sky and he seems to ponder something deep. A flicker of pain flashed across his face before he spoke of loss and Molly understood, not directly as he knew loss, of course. She just understood being in a state of grieving, and knew that she wouldn’t question it any further. “I get that.” Was all she said. “Oh, me? Well, my favorite book is actually Anne of Green Gables. I’ve read it more times than I can count.” Anne Shirley would always be near and dear to Molly’s heart. “But today I brought A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher. It’s an easy southern horror read so far.”
Molly’s grandmother also crocheted and she finally taught Molly a few years ago at Christmas. It was a fond memory that acted as a beacon in an ocean of not as bright memories that also existed around that time. “The repetitive motion is very soothing.” Molly agreed. She’d started crocheting again within the last year as a way to keep her hands busy and distract her mind. “But I’m not very good at it.” She added with a laugh. “I have an unfinished cardigan that my grandmother helped me start, with only half of one sleeve at the moment, and a long rectangle I’m working on right now that I’m calling a scarf.” Molly knew she didn’t have the patience to really dive into it as more than a passing hobby.
When he pointed out the creek a peaceful smile settled across her lips. Molly loved water of any kind. From creeks to oceans, the sound of it was soothing. She was convinced the sound of it could calm her nerves anytime. Even such a simple sight was so beautiful to her. It was a sign of life, of movement and growth. Nature was poetic in a lot of ways and today she was going to make a promise to herself that she’d spend more time out here embracing the beauty. “Wow,” She whispered as Daniel described the creek, feeling her heart go aflutter for a second. “I’m not on that level quite yet,” She joked, “But maybe attempting an off trail to a spot like that is something I can work towards for the future.” Now she was even more excited to see the waterfall.
—
Teaching. That explained why she was in Maine. He could understand getting away from a physical place and getting far away from it. “So you’re a professor then? That’s neat.” Daniel did think it was neat, but he hoped that his voice didn’t make it sound the opposite. He didn’t really know what to say, partially because he didn’t know much about theater and he never attended college. He knew nothing about either of those worlds. “It’s gotta be nice to be back up this ways though, even if Wicked’s Rest is the way it is,” he chuckled. “You’re probably close enough to visit your family.” He thought about her question for him and grinned. Even if his previous answer was a rehearsed answer, he enjoyed traveling and seeing new places. “My home is always going to be my favorite place. Specifically the home though. The house and the woods around it. That will never change no matter how many scenic places I visit,” he answered. “But, for other places, I did love living in the Allegheny National Forest in Pennsylvania for a while. I was there during the fall with all the changing leaves.”
“I’ve read a lot of King’s work. Solid writer,” Daniel said. “Wild how he writes so much.” He nodded his head at her response to his words. He liked that she kept her response simple to whatever nonsense he felt like he said. “Anne of Green Gables … can’t say I’ve ever read that. I’ve heard of it, of course.” He grinned as he realized he was about to say the same thing again. “Haven’t heard of that book either.” He at least knew of the author. He gave himself a bonus point for that. “If I’m being honest here, I caint remember what book I got with me. I sometimes go to the library and pick books at random. Ain’t started it yet, so I got no idea what it’s about.”
“Oh, but you’re at least doing it!” he responded. “Who cares if it’s just partially-finished projects. Plus, if the movements are relaxing, then just keep making some ridiculously long rectangle. A true infinity scarf that will never end.”
Daniel grinned at her response. “It ain’t much harder,” he said playfully. “Just, you know, no trail. But, no, yeah, oughta work up to it. You’ll get there if you decide to keep going on these hikes.” He paused as he thought about his next words. “And now you know of someone who does that kinda thing all the time.” The creek’s water hummed along them as they hiked up the trail on the final steep incline of the trail. As they grew closer, he heard the sounds of the waterfall crashing into the pool of water. He wasn’t sure if Molly could hear it yet, but he knew that she probably would soon.
—
“Yeah, I love teaching.” And Molly meant it. She loved helping artists in any way, especially young artists who had no idea what they wanted to do yet. She figured her experience gave her more of a reason to mentor them, too. Oftentimes college performers would pigeonhole themselves into one type of role on stage or one place in the theatre and Molly liked to remind them that they could be whatever they wanted. They could try new things. It was fulfilling to her. And then the thought of home. “Yeah, it’s only a few hours. I haven’t made the trek back yet.” She even spent the holidays alone, holed up in her downtown apartment last year because she couldn’t face going home. Something about the place where she fell in love with the person who hurt her the most didn’t feel like home right now, even with her family there. But she shook that sadness away as quickly as she could as Daniel spoke of his home and favorite places. “It’s like you have a landing place that you love.” She said to him, “That’s really special.”
“I’m always amazed at how much some authors write!” She nodded in agreement. Molly could recall going to the library with her mom and would see what seemed like walls of the same authors in the cozy mystery and romance sections that her mother would frequent. “If I could make a living doing one thing like that,” She began, “Well actually, I don’t know if I would. I enjoy doing too many different things.” At the thought she laughed. Molly had been that way since she was a kid. “And I love that, choosing a book at random. I might try that for my next read.” It’d be a low-stakes risk which was just the kind that she needed. Molly wasn’t necessarily the kind of reader who planned out her next reads but she didn’t usually go in without taking a look at the book first. It might be fun to just choose something without thinking.
And at the comment about the never-ending infinity scarf, she laughed again, “Maybe I’ll do just that.” She didn’t work on it too often, mostly just when she was feeling nervous at home. But Molly figured if she just kept it for that it’d remove the pressure to create something, which might also be a fun challenge for Molly - a project with no end. This hike had turned out to be good for her hobby goal and wish list.
The soft hum of the creek continued to soothe Molly as they headed up the incline, which had been easier on her than she expected. She wasn’t the most athletic person so she had been a little nervous about tiring herself out too early. As they inched further up the incline, she smiled at the increasingly louder sound of water. “I hope you know that because of that comment I might bother you for more hikes after this one.” Any nerves from hiking in a new place with a stranger earlier were long gone. Talking with Danile kind of felt like chatting with an old friend. She was really glad she’d decided to do this.
—
“Yeah, a landing place,” Daniel said. He wished that were true. He talked about his home with people without any issue, but he knew he would never lay his eyes on it again. He missed the feeling of turning off the highway, driving along multiple backroads, and reaching the dirt road that led to his family’s home. He knew the drive like the back of his hand. Sometimes certain smells, sights, or sounds took him back to memories of his home. But he accepted years ago that he could never go back there. Perhaps if he survived to an elderly age and inherited the house and land, then he would go back.
Daniel chuckled at her comment. “I know I listed a bunch of outdoor guide stuff I’ve done, but I think I’m kinda doing that—making a living doing the one thing. And I’m alright at it.” He sometimes preferred doing the guide work over hunting shapeshifters and beasts. But he knew he wouldn’t stop hunting anytime soon, at least, not stop hunting beasts. He loved the thrill of the hunt. It was a heartracing thrill that he never experienced while hiking—unless he sensed something nearby while on a hike. Then he had the excitement of potentially protecting people from some beast if it decided to make an appearance. “Yeah, it works out alright sometimes,” he said. “But I’ve read a lot of books that … I never would have read them otherwise. Ever. Don’t like to not finish a book. Gotta finish even if I ain’t enjoying it. So I’ve read some fascinating books, to put it kindly.”
“That’s alright. Bother me whenever. Just wander around the parking lot here and I’ll appear at some point,” he joked. “I’m probably an easy person to find.” Daniel thought about that and realized how it was too accurate. He could easily be tracked by anyone. He should change his schedule and habits more often. He didn’t need to be reverse tracked.
After reaching the top of the incline, Daniel moved from walking beside Molly to in front of her. The trail narrowed with more overgrowth of trees and shrubbery. “Watch your head,” he informed her, as he ducked his head to avoid the branches that hung lower at this section of the trail. The roaring of the waterfall greeted them as they stepped through the last patch of low branches. He stepped to the side so she could see the full sight of the tall waterfall crashing into the pool of water. They stood near the edge of a cliffside that dropped off into the pool, but there were paths that could lead them closer to the pool or even to the top of the waterfall. He didn’t say anything as he let her look at everything.
—
Just as Molly felt a bit distant in her reply about home, so did Daniel. It seemed like a lot of people around here had a complicated relationship with their home. Molly was just hopeful that she might be able to make a home for herself here, even if it were only temporary.
“You seem like you’re more than alright at it!” Molly told Daniel with a smile. “And you get to spend a lot of time in beautiful places with amazing views.” The same wasn’t necessarily untrue for Molly. She’d done theatre since she was a kid, it was just her role that changed. “I guess I kind of do the same thing, at least different jobs in the same field.” Teaching had been a big adjustment when she moved to Nashville. Though she had directed and coached performers, teaching was different but she’d learned to enjoy it.
She laughed as he went on about the books he’d read. “Oh, I have to put a book down if I’m not enjoying it! I admire you for pushing through. I can’t seem to focus on a book if I’m not enjoying it.” Plus, when she’d go home in college to visit family, Molly and her sister would spend evenings reading together. On more than one occasion Molly ended up with a book she wasn’t enjoying. One time in particular it upset her that she wasn’t enjoying the book and her emotions seemed to have a ripple effect on her sister because then Grace wasn’t enjoying her book. That was a weird night, honestly. After that she made sure to have choices with her.
“Ah, so I can just summon you, huh? With a few rocks and a little bit of moss at home, can I just speak about a hike and you’ll appear, ready to go?” Molly teased with a playful grin as she looked over at him. Then she shook her head, still grinning “No, I’ll reach out. This has been really nice.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at peace out in public.
As they reached the top, Molly fell in step behind Daniel and ducked as instructed. The water was loud now, roaring as it fell from the waterfall into what she had assumed would be a pool or river below. She stepped out beside him and noted the small cliffside. The height made her nervous for a moment but as her eyes scanned the falls and rocky cliffside surrounding it nerves fell away and she was speechless. She’d never really seen anything like it in person, which she thought to be a little sad given her age. But the sight was something to see. The water crashed to a pool below and trees and trails framed the edge beautifully. It was like a painting. “Wow,” she finally said, sounding like a kid who had just woken up to a tree full of gifts on Christmas morning. “This is seriously so cool..” The smile that settled across her lips was one of pure contentment as she admired the beauty before her. “Wow,” she whispered this time, “I can see why you enjoy this so much.”
—
“I think that’s the logical response to a book you’re not enjoying,” he laughed. “But I don’t know. It’s like I just need to keep going to see what nonsense will happen next. Throw in some annoyed sighs and eye-rolls. Shut the book sometimes to pace around and think about what I’m reading. It’s entertaining to me.” Daniel felt a little ridiculous saying all this, but he felt chattier than usual around Molly.
He laughed an actual laugh, not one of his lighthearted ones that he typically did, but one that made him feel every contraction of his abdomen. “Yeah, yup, almost, almost,” Daniel joked between laughs. “You ain’t got some of the key ingredients: dirt, leaves, and bark. Gotta have them or I ain’t gonna appear. Throw in some sassafras, and we’ll both transport to a trailhead.” He placed a hand on his stomach, feeling how the laughter subsided to lighthearted. “You can reach out by carrier pigeon. Fastest way to get to me. Or a message in a bottle. You’ve got plenty of options. No, no, but yeah, you can reach out whenever.”
Daniel looked away from the waterfall to watch Molly’s reaction to everything. Something about her felt infectious, as if she was someone he knew before today. His own eyes lit up as he watched the joy spread across her face. He looked away from her to look out at the waterfall. Even with the crashing water, the atmosphere relaxed and calmed him. Water droplets splashed against the rocks and cliffside. Spots of sunlight sneaked through the clouds and reflected off the water. If Daniel wasn’t working, he would hike down to the pool and go for a swim in the cool waters. He never minded water on cool days; his life of swimming in creeks and rivers built up his tolerance to chilly water.
“Yeah. It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. No matter how much time he spent outside, the world always amazed him. He visited this waterfall multiple times in his short time living here, but the waterfall gifted him a unique experience with each visit. “We can go closer, if you’d like,” Daniel said, his own voice a whisper to match hers. “There’s a trail on your left.” He nodded with his head in the trail’s direction. “Explore wherever you’d like.” Now was the moment when he let people choose what they wanted to see or do at the waterfall. He stayed around to answer questions and to ensure no one injured themselves.
—
Molly chuckled as Daniel described his reading habits. They’d only just met but Molly could picture it. She imagined it was much like when she was reading a play she didn’t particularly care for but still had to teach or help a student understand it. She also paced when she was frustrated. And again when he laughed at her joke. “Dirt, twigs, leaves, and sassafras. Got it. It’s like a little shopping list of things I need to get on the way home for when my new urge to hike strikes.”
“Closer?” she asked. Her gaze shifted between Daniel and the trail leading down to the waterfall and even to the trail leading up to the top. She knew that one in particular was out of the question today. It was enough for her to be so close to the edge of the rocky cliffside. Though it wasn’t a huge drop it was enough to make her a little nervous. “Yeah, let’s get closer.” Her eyes glanced toward the edge once more before looking to the trail on her left. With a deep breath, Molly bravely, and slowly, had begun to lead the way.
The longer she was out here the more proud of herself she’d become. Molly wasn’t a risk taker, not when it came to her personal life. She took plenty of risks on stage and in her designs but as a human she preferred to play it safe. Roger had made most of the moves and Molly followed. Being alone was difficult for her. It was probably silly to some to consider hiking with a stranger to be a risk - well, not like a weird stranger. This was Daniel’s job so it was different but still. This was a big deal for her. As they walked along the trail bringing them closer to the waterfall, Molly hummed happily. “Thank you again for bringing me out here today.” She said, “I don’t normally do this.” By this, she meant hiking and doing things like this on her own. Up until the last year or so, Molly had lived most of her life without honoring the agency she had as her own person. She’d attached herself to someone at sixteen and that was that. This was just a hike to some but for Molly it was much more. “I’m not very good at doing things by myself.” It was a crumb of information and she wasn’t sure why she felt comfortable enough to share but again, something about Daniel made her feel safe.
—
“Exactly,” Daniel said with a laugh. “Jot it all down on a scrap piece of paper so you don’t forget. Super important list.”
Daniel followed Molly along the trail to move closer to the pool of water below them. He took his time, going down the steps placed into the hillside. He was glad to see Molly enjoying herself after telling him that this wasn’t something she usually did. He liked sharing nature with people and helping them have new exciting adventures. Sure, sometimes he dealt with obnoxious people, but he still wanted them to leave enjoying themselves. If he didn’t find such a thrill from hunting, he could work as an outdoors guide for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t mind spending his days doing this work. It’s why he kept coming back to it with every place he moved. Maybe one day pick one place and open his own outfitters—no, no, he would never have the time or energy for that. Far too much paperwork with that too. He hated paperwork.
“Of course, you’re welcome,” Daniel responded. He nodded at her comment on doing things alone. He felt quite the opposite at this point in his life—always on his own. He preferred to be alone. He didn’t feel like he needed, perhaps deserved, to have others in his life. He could socialize and sort of befriend people, but he didn’t want anyone getting closer to him beyond a casual friendly level. “Well, it seems like a good step to do something like this on your own. Even if I’m here. But, you know, you decided to do this on your own,” Daniel said.
—
To Daniel’s point, Molly couldn’t argue. She had made the decision on her own to get out here and she figured that did count for something. “Yeah,” She said, glancing his way as they neared the rocky edge of the pool. “I guess you’ve got a point.” With that she couldn’t help but shrug her shoulders. Molly also didn’t like taking credit for things, as ridiculous as that sounded.
“My sister’s been hounding me about getting out of my apartment to see more of where I’ve chosen to live, and if I don’t send her proof she’s threatened to drive up and force me out.” It was a half joke. Molly knew her sister would do it. She’d driven from Vermont to Nashville to help Molly move out of the home she’d shared with her ex-husband. Though she loved Grace dearly, the last thing she wanted right now was for her sister to join her. Grace was her sister and her best friend and she was still part of that complicated slice of home. Molly needed to be out of her comfort zone to heal and she thought part of that meant being without them for a while. “I love her, and I’m not ready for her to visit.” Her voice trailed for a moment and her eyes fell to the ground. But she quickly remembered where she was and looked out at the waterfall as the water cascaded into the pool below, unbothered. “So, I guess I can take a little credit.” The corners of her mouth turned up at that admission.
She could watch the water for hours. “This really is beautiful.” Molly didn’t want to sound like a broken record but these views had been something else. She’d lived here for months without knowing it existed. “It’s so peaceful, too. It is a good reading spot,” she added, “But I don’t want to keep you for long today, I know you’ve probably got other hikes or duties to attend to.” She’d enjoyed the morning so much so far but hadn’t remembered until now that this was work for Daniel and he might have other obligations that didn’t involve hanging out with some stranger all day.
—
Daniel tilted his head at the shrug of her shoulders but decided to not question it. He probably said something weird, knowing him. He listened as Molly spoke about her persistent sister. A pang hit his chest as it all sounded so familiar. His own sister used to pester him all the time about doing things and getting out more. She thought he had become too closed off and focused on his work. She knew how hard things were for him after the loss of one of his closest hunting friends Robbie, which led to the beginning of his spiraling. The additional losses of other hunters didn’t help him. But the one time he agreed to get out and do something with Maya … Well, he lost her too.
He struggled to find something to say to Molly. Her words hit too close to his heart. His eyes watched a leaf fall from a tree and land in the pool of water. The water rippled underneath the leaf, and the ripples joined with the ripples from other fallen leaves. He wished Maya could come visit him and force him to go to a restaurant with mediocre food. “I think you can take more than a ‘little’ credit,” Daniel said, his eyes still focused on the water ripples as he tried to bring himself back into their conversation. He couldn’t stop his mouth from asking, “Why don’t you want her to visit?” before his brain realized that wasn’t an appropriate question. Wishing for Maya to visit him clouded his mind and judgment. “Sorry. That was rude of me,” he apologized, removing his eyes from the ripples to look at Molly. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“Well, you’ve got me booked,” Daniel told her. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. I got nothing going on for the rest of the day.” Except for bothering park rangers and finding a hunting cabin. But he had plenty of time for that task. “You can read if you’d like. Enjoy a snack. Walk around. Watch the water. Choose your own adventure.” He stepped over to the rocky edge and stood on the rocks right near the water’s edge. He removed his hiking pack and placed it next to him. He stretched his arms above his head, releasing tension from the pack and hike, and sat on the rocks. “I’m gonna have me a snack though. You’re welcome to join me.” He removed a clif bar from his pack.
—
Initially at Daniel’s question Molly didn’t really say much. If she loved her sister so much, and she had just spoken about how much she loved her sister, it was a fair question to wonder why Molly was so against her visiting. Her gaze settled on ripples in the pond for a few short moments, as if she were reflecting. “It wasn’t rude of you, at all.” Molly said, eyes still not leaving the water. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Grace to visit, hell she’d let her sister come and move in with her if she needed. It was just also a little painful right now and Molly wasn’t good with sitting with that uncomfortable truth. Not to mention the part where Molly had never lived alone, ever in her life, until she was 39 years old. The space was necessary.
Finally, she glanced back at Daniel as he settled onto the rocks and talked about a snack. That was exactly what Molly could use right now, too. A contented sigh left her lips as she followed and set her own pack not too far away from his. It was a small backpack but given that Molly wasn’t used to wearing one at all she stretched her own arms out. As she did she inhaled. That fresh mountain air really was the best kind. Then she sat and grabbed her own granola bar from her pack. She turned it over in her hands a few times, appearing to study the label but she’d just let her mind wander again. She didn’t like revealing too much to strangers, mostly because she didn’t want to trouble anyone with her sad story of her more recent life. So she found ways to tread lightly, or, she tried. And she couldn’t get Daniel’s question out of her head.
“I have a complicated relationship with home right now.” She finally spoke again. “I moved here to start over, in a way. Which has been a really big deal for me.” He didn’t need the full explanation, or any explanation, but here Molly was, sharing more crumbs. “And a part of that starting over has been me adjusting to life without the constant need for my family. Not that I wouldn’t accept any support from them or even that I’m pushing them away. It’s just…” She sighed again, more deeply this time. “Seeing them can be painful for me right now. To no fault of their own.” Then, she opened her granola bar, wrapper crinkling between her fingers. “Wow, I’m sorry, that sounded really sad.” Molly was laughing a little now, definitely at herself, as she finally glanced his way again.
—
Daniel gave a quick nod of his head at her response to his rude question. He still considered it rude though, even if she said otherwise. He would hate for someone to ask him a question like that. He’d probably give a harsh glare to whoever asked something so personal.
As he opened his clif bar, he watched Molly come over to join him. He put his trash into his pack, into a specific pocket where he kept his trash to dump it at the end of a hike. Daniel glanced up as Molly stretched, but he returned his gaze to the water. He focused on bringing himself back into a normal, friendly mood. He worried that he just ruined her hiking experience, especially after seeing how happy she looked earlier. Here he was killing the vibe. He pulled his legs towards him and rested his arms on his knees. When Molly spoke, he was taken aback by her actually answering his question. He couldn’t help but notice how they both seemed to be giving brief information to each other throughout this hike—information that, for him, he would never talk about with a stranger. Especially while at work. But his crumbs felt even fewer, which is why he felt rude for asking his question.
Daniel forced himself to not let out an exasperated laugh. Why did he keep spotting a couple similarities between them? “I get that,” he said, not really wanting to offer much more than those three words. Yet he knew based on a few of his earlier comments during the hike, he would probably accidentally reveal too much about himself. He heard her laugh, and he tried to not kill the vibe even more even though he knew himself too well. “I guess I … I really am sorry for asking that question though. I just got … My sister ain’t around no more, so I guess, I was a-thinking … and if your sister wants to visit, you know … ” He stumbled through his words and didn’t finish any of the sentences he started. “All right then.” He finished his clif bar and wiped his hands on his pants.
Daniel listened to the birds chirping instead. He decided to do his actual job instead of going on about family stuff. He couldn’t stand talking about his emotions, and he could feel himself becoming more closed off and moodier. He needed to get a grip so he could finish this hike like a normal person. Leaning over towards Molly, Daniel extended his arm out, pointing at some of the trees across the water. “Look closely. Do you see that bit of blue on one of the tree branches?” He glanced over at her before looking back towards the tree. “Blue Jay. Perched right on one of the branches.”
—
Her eyes came back to the snack in her hands and she took a bite, chewing slowly. When Daniel spoke again, there was an ache in her chest as he stumbled over words about his own sister. It made sense then, his question - not that he needed to reveal that information to Molly to get her to answer. Neither of them needed to share but then again humans had a way about finding comfort with those who experience similar grief. And the way that he spoke was similar to the way she had - offering bits and pieces of information without wanting to dump a life story onto a stranger. Molly didn’t really like talking about her divorce, it made her sad and she didn’t want to be a downer. At the same time, sometimes it helped.
She didn’t blame him either, for expressing his feelings towards her choices and Molly knew she’d probably feel the same way if she were in his shoes. If she could never see Grace again and someone else revealed they were essentially pushing their own family away… Well, she’d probably tell them exactly how she felt. Life was really fucking hard, she thought. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft. Molly offered another short glance his way, “About your sister.” And she left it at that.
As she finished her own granola bar she balled up the wrapper and stuffed it into her pack. Then she removed her water bottle, flipped up the straw, and took a long sip. It was refreshing but not too cold, just enough to satisfy her and also help calm her once more. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get upset and risk ruining either of their days. The bottle was securely back in her pack and she was about to attempt to turn the conversation around but Daniel had managed to beat her to it. Molly looked his way as he leaned towards her, briefly meeting his gaze before looking in the direction of the birds. “I do…” She said quietly, a smile returning to her lips at the sight. The familiar call rang out across the water. “They’re beautiful birds. Aggressive but smart, I’ve heard.” She added, glancing at him again, gaze lingering a few moments longer than intended. After another second she looked back across the water, a little embarrassed for that. “I love Bluebirds and as a kid I’d confuse the two. Every blue bird was one to me.”
——
Daniel nodded at her words. “Thanks.” He didn’t think anything more needed to be said by him. He’d already said more than enough. In the corner of his eye, he saw Molly look over at him. But he kept his eyes focused on anything but her. He felt far too emotional to look at anyone. Every word passed between them over the last few minutes left an ache of regret in his chest. He remembered why he never spoke about these things with people. He’d already mentioned his sister’s death two times in the last month, and that was far too many times for him. He held her memory as a blessing, forever grateful for the good memories. Even if the worst memory haunted him and led his plot for revenge.
He was glad when Molly responded to the bird sighting without sounding upset after he killed the vibe. “Yeah, aggressive. They can be territorial about their space. I watched one fight with a Cardinal once.” Daniel looked over at her at the same time that she glanced at him. He caught her eyes until she looked away from him. His gaze stayed on her for a few seconds before he looked away too. He hadn’t meant to do that.
But he hadn’t meant to do a lot of things today.
He cleared his throat as he spoke again. “That’s fair. I was kinda the same until my parents started teaching me all the different types of birds.” Daniel chuckled. “And animals, fish, plants, what have you. Had to learn how to identify them all.” He tapped on the side of his head. “All that information stuck up in here now.” Of course, he didn’t mention how he had to memorize every shapeshifter and beast that he would hunt as a ranger. When he hunted with other hunters, he sometimes found himself remembering information about the creatures they hunted too. Not that it would ever be super useful for him as a ranger, but his brain seemed to be wired in a way that he wanted to identify creatures. Sometimes he was shocked by the amount of information in his head and all the years of dedication to learn all of it. “I’ll try to keep my eye out for anything else we might spot on our hike back down.”
——
Molly was too aware of how close her and Daniel had gotten. Her pulse quickened but she quickly averted her gaze and did her best to focus on the birds once more. As Daniel recounted his own experience with learning how to identify animals, she couldn’t help but close her eyes to try to gather herself - but she nodded slowly to let him know that she was listening. When he finished, she smiled and began to stand, readjusting her pack as she did so.
Outside of the basics of the birds that visited the feeders at her own home, Molly hadn’t learned much more. Between the bird identification and the poetry readings from her mother in her mother’s rose garden, Molly was a fairly well educated child. She was thankful for it. In moments like this she wasn’t left floundering and she was again grateful for that. “I look forward to it.” Molly said as he’d begun to explain details about the hike down and her check out procedure for the park.
Though Molly was personally kicking herself for how the hike had ended, she was proud of herself for reaching out and taking the risk. Emotions had run high and though the both of them seemed to be feeling it, both Molly and Daniel were able to make it back down the trail to the parking lot with casual conversation about their natural surroundings. Molly had managed to gather herself so that she was able to avoid talking about her sister again. When they’d reached the ranger station Molly bid her goodbye and, in the spirit of taking risks, left her contact information for Daniel upon checking out.
“A ghost can be a lot of things. A memory, a daydream, a secret.”
“You speak true. A ghost can be all of those, and many more.” A shiver runs down her spine, a profound sense of discomfort at the sense of loss she feels against her will.
Philippa runs her fingers through her hair, separating curls, pulling sharply at knots and tangles. A small discomfort to ground herself in. The moon is bright and full above a sea so calm that it is almost like a mirror, its reflection so flawless, so perfect, one could easily mistake it for the real thing. Somewhere above, a nightbird cries out, its voice like the edge of a knife.
Philippa looks straight ahead, focussing on something in the distant dark that may or may not be real, straight-backed and regal – no, tense.
“We all have our ghosts, Zelda. But after all is said and done, it’s up to us to decide whether or not we allow ourselves to be haunted.”
There’s a trembling in her chest which feels oddly like brewing laughter, but it feels so weird, so out of place and unfamiliar, that she places a hand to her ribs and holds herself until the involuntary fit subsides. A few faint lines crease the middle of her brows and she puckers her lips to keep from grimacing, sitting in the sand beside Philippa. She thinks she has as much control over her body and its emotions as one has over nature sometimes. There’s no way of knowing what’s to come, or directing it. Storms come and go as they like.
“Not all ghosts are malevolent. And some of mine keep me company…”
Old, sweet memories of her years at Kaer Morhen. But more often than not it’s a wish, or a day dream. Often times the only companion she has are her thoughts and fantasies. But she finds the more she lives in them, the lonelier she feels out here, in the real world. Brothels quenched a desire which only ran skin deep, but they could not touch her anywhere other than her flesh. And monsters? The only thrill she got from them was knowing that this could be her last fight. She could die, and being made aware of her own mortality gave her a momentary flare for life, a revival of a fire inside of her, if only until the threat was dealt with.
“Are you haunted, then? Philippa?”
The sorceress lifts her left hand, her mind reaching out to tug on the silverbright strands of power that glimmer, half-hidden, in the unseen portion of the world. This is a busy place, many threads running together, intersecting and branching off again, complete and utter chaos and at the same time a perfect balance.
The sand begins to dance under her gesture, moving out of its own accord, forming walls and towers, roofs and balconies. A perfect reflection of the keep of Kaer Morhen as she gleans it from Zelda’s mind. Philippa smiles softly, visibly pleased with her handiwork, enjoying herself in the process of creation, of seeing things come together, a whole made up out of millions and millions of tiny pieces.
Just grains of sand. That’s all we are, too, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but grains of sand.
“What was that? Oh.”
The question tears her from her reverie, and she is grateful for it – there is nothing that puts her on edge like the threat of insignificance. She wants to be more than just a tiny piece in a gigantic puzzle, she has to be more.
The nightbird calls again, a little closer this time.
“I could be, if I allowed it. But I do not. Benevolent or not, I have no time for things that dwell in the past. I much prefer to keep my eyes fixed on the future. Why fawn over memories when you could look to opportunities instead? Trust me, Zelda – what is dead is dead, it’s dead for a reason and nothing good ever comes from trying to drag it back.”
For a time, her memory of kaer morhen seems all the brighter. It appears in her mind more vivid than it has done so in a long time. If she was to close her eyes and breathe in, she would even be able to hear the way the wind used to pass through the tall trees, and the birds as they sang, and how it had always smelt faintly of sweet berries and honeysuckle, or sometimes of firewood as it was piled and burning in the courtyard below. It had smelt of home, and she had not smelt anything like it since. It is nice, getting the opportunity to sit there, beside Philippa, and have those fond memories play through her mind for a little while. Eventually, however, it all trickles away with the tide.
“I kill monsters for a pittance and spend it on food and women. I don’t see any greater opportunity in my work, unless you know of another way I can put my skills to use.”
In another life she would have made a perfect negotiator, owing to a skilled tongue, which she seems to have had since she was young. It is sometimes impressive how persuasive she is, and whilst she can be almost insufferable to be around sometimes, there are few who hate her; those who had in the past now tolerate her, or even find themselves being endeared to her. Maybe she would have made a good sorceress. She entertains it.
“A woman once said I would make a great queen.” She muses, half amused by the idea of herself on a throne with a crown on her head. “Granted, I think she was only saying that in an attempt to get more coins out of me. But it was nice nonetheless.” With a careless shrug, she buries her palms into the sand and leans back on them, looking at the sorceress with a subtle thoughtful furrow to her brow. Then, a loose smile. “Perhaps I’d ask for you as my mage, if I had a gold crown on my head. How about that?”
“You’d suit a crown, if I am to be perfectly candid. Something sleek and sharp, set with sapphires. A circlet.” Her hands begin to dance again, the air shimmering brightly, only glimpses of an image to begin with, but soon something solid, tangible. An elegant circlet, just as she has described it. A perfect illusion. Well, maybe not entirely perfect, but the closest thing to it, and that is enough.
“There you are. It’s yours.” She gestures out over the mirror calm of the sea, towards the distant nocturnal horizon, a different shade of darkness. “As far as your eye can see. Queen of all you survey, for a night. Wait, let me just...”She plucks the circlet out of the air, leans across to place it on Zelda’s head. “It suits you. Just like I said.”The song of the cicadas rises to a crescendo, a coronation hymn that is soon joined by the frogs. Even the nightbird makes an appearance to add its haunting harmonies.
Philippa closes her eyes, breathes deeply. There is a calmness inside of her that she doesn’t quite know what to do with, a sense of ease that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
“If it pleases your Majesty, I’d prefer to be my own mage, just for once. With only myself to be accountable for, only my own whims to indulge, only my own burdens to bear. All my life I’ve been a tool, fit for some glorious purpose, and I’d quite like to know – what does it feel like to be a person, instead?” A pause. Is she speaking too candidly? Is she revealing too much of herself, giving away secrets that could come back to haunt her, to undo her? But the words are spoken, and she cannot take them back.
She glances at Zelda again, delighting in the way the circlet complements her features and once again feeling rather pleased with herself. “But you wouldn’t know either, would you now? Because you, too had your choices taken from you. More so than mine were, even. And so, you grieve. You grieve for who and what you could have been. But what if I told you that you’re all you need to be?”
There is a solemnity to her as the crown is placed atop her golden head, and it really suits her, like she was meant to wear it. It is more a testament to Philippa’s magic, she thinks, that the sorceress would create such a beautiful circlet. A perfect one meant only for the Witcher. Feeling it rest upon her head, she feels noble. She is striking in it, but oblivious to it. A smile breaks across her face meant only for Philippa, and she listens to her request with an upwards tilt of her chin, her eyes the brightest, sincerest of blues, as though Philippa’s wants and desires are the most important thing in the world to her.
There is something about Zelda. She has this way of often unwittingly making people feel like they are the only person who means something to her. And it is neither dishonest or deceiving. It just is. “Philippa Eilhart!” Clearing her throat, she sits up and dusts off the sand from her palms. She moves so that she is face to face with the sorceress, taking Philippa’s hand in her’s and giving it a gracious, brief kiss.
“As Queen of literally everything, I grant you your freedom, to be your own person, where you are accountable only for yourself and your own actions, where you may indulge your own whims and desires to your hearts content, and have only your own burdens to bear! All mistakes are your own, all successes are your own, and everything in between. I beseech you to be selfishly and undisputedly yourself.” With that, she poises herself as a king would, shoulders pulled back, chest expanded, her other hand to her hip. She bows, amused by it, even as the last of Philippa’s words sink in. They ring true, though she refuses to believe it. The smile she wears twitches at their corners, but she keeps it there.
She doesn’t want to think about all of the choices she had had taken from her, or the lives she could have lived, but will now never know what they could have been. So distracted by Philippa’s words, she remains holding Philippa’s hand. Pondering. If she knew exactly who she was, maybe she would be happier than she is. She says nothing on it, only looks half despondently up at the sky, noticing the birds circling above them.
“I accept this most gracious offer with gladness, your Majesty. And I commend you for your kindness.” The magician inclines her head gracefully. She has spoken those same words too many times to count, but tonight, she means them. Zelda’s hand is warm, the skin rough and callused from wielding a blade where her own is cool and smooth as polished marble. Philippa fortifies her mind, out of habit rather than necessity. She has said to much, she’s certain of it now. The sorceress withdraws her hand, with downcast eyes.
“I’d ask another favour of you, if you will. More than a favour, actually – a promise.”
It would be so easy to slip inside her thoughts, to manipulate the delicate threads of memory to simply erase the conversation from ever having taken place. So easy, and so effective, and yet she cannot bring herself to do so. This feels good and right and safe, despite the possible consequences, despite the fact that she has let her mask drop and made herself vulnerable, if only for a fleeting moment. Philippa Eilhart has learned a long time ago that placing one’s trust in another is careless and foolish, she knows better than this and yet – she wants this memory to remain intact, untainted. A grain of truth in this empire of lies.
“Promise me that you’ll keep this to yourself. Everything I have told you. Every word I’ve said.” She tilts her head back, her gaze following Zelda’s, the circling nightbirds nothing but fleeting, dancing shadows above them, sleek black shapes every now and again outlined against the pale moon.
“They speak to each other. They speak of hidden places, of secrets yet to be revealed. They speak of the coming sunrise, and they speak of the nights gone past. They’ll speak of us, too, in time. Of a witcheress who became a queen, and of a mage who was granted true freedom. Let them be the only ones to tell this tale. Promise me.”
Zelda doesn’t understand why Philippa would want her to promise such a thing. It seems such an innocent admission, one which has made her seem more human than anything else the Witcher has ever learnt about the sorceress. And who is there for her to tell? And why would she? There is no part of her which thinks about using this crumb of knowledge for her own gain. So she is bewildered by the sudden request.
Confusion flickers across an otherwise loving expression, her brows tugging together, questioning it as her gaze goes from the birds to Philippa’s profile. She takes a moment to respond, but only because she is trying to figure out what the mage’s motivation is. Then the Witcher shifts and faces Philippa fully.
“Of course, Philippa.” Of course! “I swear it. On my life. I will tell no one. Have no desire to tell anyone. Will never. Could never. More so if it is important to you that no one else ever finds out. I have no want to break your trust. Do you think that I would? Why would I?”
The Witcher has nothing to gain from breaking her promise to Philippa Eilhart. She will gladly go to her grave being the only person who knows this about the sorceress, not because she fears the repecurscsions of telling anyone else but because she is decent, and honest, and honourable. The Witcher moves, touching Philippa on her forearm.
“What can I do to prove to you that I can be trusted? Because I will do it. I have no trouble with it. You can even charm me so that I will tell you only the truth, if it will put you at ease. But I am hoping that you know the kind of person I am, and that by giving you my word it will be enough for you to rest easy at night, knowing beyond a doubt that your secrets are safe with me. That I will take them to my grave.”
“Because no one can be trusted. No one in this whole entire rotten, magnificent world. Because all it takes is a push into the right direction, with enough force, and the secrets will spill out, one by one. I’ve seen it happen too many times. Maybe you don’t see it the same way as I do, but trust me”, a bitter laugh at the irony of that. “Trust me when I say that this is simply the way it is. Human nature.”The magician smiles sadly. The horizon is slowly turning a lighter shade of midnight, a subtle reminder of the fact that the sun will rise eventually, that life’s responsibilities can not be put on hold forever. That there will come a time to part.
I don’t want to go just yet.
“I’m due to return to Tretogor by nightfall tomorrow. Of all the fools I’ve met in my life, King Vizimir stands out as the most stubborn one. I have him well and truly under control, of course, but what I have to do to maintain it... He likes to think he’s asserting his dominance by keeping me on my toes, having me chase after phantoms, petty magics that are below my station and result in nothing substantial. A waste of both my time and my intellect. And yet, my hands are tied and all I can do is obey, lest I risk losing his trust and with it my influence.”A heartfelt, although slightly dramatic sigh, as she rests her head against Zelda’s shoulder. “There’s plenty of room in the carriage, you know? You say you wish to prove your word? Then come with me to Tretogor.”
The Witcher listens carefully to Philippa’s words and considers the truth behind them. Maybe Philippa is right, but when Zelda thinks on it she can’t imagine any scenario where she would find reason to spill any secrets the mage has told her, nor any perceivable vulnerabilities she may have. What purpose will that serve a Witcher like Zelda? Of course she has her own ambitions but not one of them involves power. They are selfish but innocent goals. She had been born with an immunity towards deceit. She could not be affected by it even if it smothered her. What reason would she have to betray her? If Philippa had enemies they would have to find other ways of uncovering her secrets. The Witcher would keep Philippa’s secrets as safe as if the sorceress had whispered them to a tree, or a rock, or into the wind.
“Then it is a good thing that you told your secrets to a mutant, and not a human. ” For all she has had to witness, and learn, and give up, she sees the world differently to humans. Philippa is a stubborn, beautiful force of nature and Zelda is aware that her words probably do little to sway the sorceress on her views, but she will say them anyway. Better that than keeping quiet, she thinks. Zelda can smell Philippa’s hair where she rests her head on Zelda’s shoulder, and the Witcher allows herself to indulge a little by tilting her face close enough that her cheek brushes Philippa’s forehead. Then slowly she breathes her in, catching the natural scent which clings faintly to Philippa’s hair. Wanting to remember it, expecting this moment to end soon and for the two to part ways.
She doesn’t expect the sorceress to offer a seat in her carriage. So much so that when the offer arises, she lifts her head in surprise. “Tretogor.” There is some uncertainty which twinges in the pit of her stomach as she says it, and she looks out at the dark ocean whilst considering it. “How would that prove my word to you? Wouldn’t it raise more questions? Having a Witcher by your side. You don’t need to keep such a close eye on me. Unless the reason is that you’re enjoying the view too much to give it up so soon.” She smiles a little.
With as much subtlety as she can muster, she brushes her fingers daringly over the backs of Philippa’s, almost like she is toying with them. “You know that if I came with you to Tretogor, I wouldn’t be able to stay for too long. Not with what I am, what I do. But…” The sweet scent of Philippa’s hair still swims through her thoughts, and even if it is not sweet, or Philippa has used nothing to wash her hair but water, it is sweet to Zelda nonetheless. It affects her. “I have no work currently. So I’ll accompany you to Tretogor. Even though it’ll mean less room for you in your carriage. I am lankier than you. And fidget.”
Philippa smiles. It is the ghost of a smile, a fleeting light that flashes across her face, reaching all the way up into her eyes. This is not pretense. For this mere moment, she has put the cards aside, has removed the pieces from the board. Just for now, Philippa is no longer playing a game. This is her. This is real.
And she is terrified.
Terrified of the implications, of the betrayal that surely will be imminent – it always is, after all. People get hurt, around her, for the sole reason that she won’t allow anyone to hurt her first. Never again. She’ll never have her heart ripped out of her chest again, she’ll never again be run through with contempt. She will leave first. Because there’s nothing on this earth more painful than being the one who gets left behind.
This is real, and one day this too will end.
Philippa is tired of endings, tired of happiness slipping from her grasp as soon as she’s caught it, tired of that endless void inside of her that she can’t seem to be able to fill, no matter how much she tries.
Zelda’s touch burns against her skin, and she cannot tell whether the sensation is one of pain or pleasure. Maybe they’re one and the same. Does it matter? At least she’s feeling something.
The sorceress closes her eyes. She is still as a statue, unmoving, frozen in time.
The sky begins to change, the ambiguous pre-dawn light dissolving the shadows. Shades of grey. The world is shades of grey and her dark heart beats a little faster at Zelda’s affirmation.
“I am not asking you for, you know – commitment.”She’s back on her lies again, picking up effortlessly from where she left off. Just like that. It is, after all, her nature.
“How long you stay is entirely up to you, but let me tell you that there’s a lot to see around the city. A lot of things to catch one’s interest. The people, however, are rather dull and self-absorbed, as if their petty, short-lived complaints mattered in the Grand Scheme of Things.” She turns her hand slowly, interlocking her fingers with Zelda’s. “I shall do my best to keep things interesting for you. If that’s what you want. Or alternatively, I can offer you complete and utter boredom, not a single mountain to climb, not a single monster to slay, only comfort and all the luxury you could possibly desire. Anything you want. I mean it. ”
Do you want me? Do you want me for me?
She laughs quietly, there’s a tinge of bitterness in it.
“But you’re not one for boredom, are you. And just as well, because neither am I.” She falls silent, whether for the fraction of a moment or for an eternity, she does not know.
"It's never enough for you, is it? No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it's never good enough!"
nothing, over her face, in her posture, transpired. tissaia stood as poised and stiff as ever and waited for the wave of emotions pulling philippa to pass. silence settled. she let it. it was thick and it grew thicker; and then she spoke. “are you done?” her efforts, her capabilities, her determination, none of it was worthy of being questioned. philippa was perfectly capable and yet, yet she failed - and she was failing again now, proving the rectoress right. “if you are not capable of controlling your emotions and restraining yourself, this conversation is at an end.”
“No it is NOT! Not until you ANSWER ME!”
She has lost control, and she knows it. It’s too late to go back now, her tenuous hold over her emotions is lost to anger and frustration. Her hands are shaking, red hot anger burns in her chest, it’s setting her aflame, she’s boiling over, she can’t contain herself she can’t contain t h i s.
Magic surges through her in all its terrible, beautiful, unrestrained glory. It is pain and pleasure all at once, a terror and a delight.
She feels her muscles tense, her body straighten. She is a thunderstorm, a force of chaos and destruction. She is a lightning bolt crashing down to destroy all that is in her path until she gets what she wants, what she is due, what she is owed.
I won’t back down. I won’t back down for anything.
Philippa lashes out, one, two, three short and sharp movements of her left hand that send a searing pain up through her arm, across her shoulders, and down her spine. The items on Tissaia’s desk, carefully arranged and all in their proper place, are sent flying. Crystal and porcelain shatter into a million pieces, tendrils of black ink drip down the wall. Philippa can feel tears burning in her eyes, and she does not even try to stop them. Her hands drop to her side, her whole body trembling with both anger and the aftermath of the surge of magical energy.
“Why won’t you answer me? How can I do what you want when you won’t tell me what exactly that is? Am I supposed to play a guessing game that has no answer and in the end I lose no matter what I do? I don’t want to play games anymore!”
magic wouldn’t be used to fight philippa. her words had delivered the last push, the one she needed to yield and give in to that overwhelming urge storming inside her to destroy. and she did. and tissaia braced herself. her hands, tightly clasped over her bodice, did cling to one another, a necessary measure to restrain herself from preventing her student from inflicting damage. it had to happen. she closed her eyes seconds before the sounds of glass crashing tore through the air charged with everything philippa was throwing into it. it hurt - it hurt the both of them.
her eyes opened. in the deafening silence that followed, she did not look at the state of the room, nor did she care to as much as it angered her. she looked at philippa and wondered how much pain she was in then. was it validation, gratification or attention she so desperately wanted? or was it need at this point? a need nothing and no one could satisfy, not even tissaia in spite of what she seemed to believe. and how much satisfaction was she getting from succumbing to chaos? “if you think this is a game, you have not been paying attention, philippa.”
there was no tremor in her voice, nothing to deceive what she felt much too deeply to ever let it show. “is this enough for you?” when would she understand that it wasn’t about the rectoress standing before her. it was, it had to be about herself.
slow and calculated steps closed some of the distance between them, enough to tissaia to take a better look at her. her lips pursed tighter when ripples of chaos, stronger, sharper, hit her. would that she could relieve her, assuage the ache which must have seized her entire body. and her mind…. “this pathetic outburst is the last one i will tolerate within the walls of aretuza. now, you need to go and you need to rest.”
Every fire will burn itself out eventually, and even more quickly so when it is deprived of fuel. Tissaia refuses to fuel the flames, calmly, sternly, ever so matter-of-factly. Philippa’s anger flares one last time, then decays into shame. All she wanted was for Tissaia to react, to show a response beyond rationality, beyond detachment. She wants to – needs to – be validated, acknowledged, seen and heard. She forces herself to stand up straight, to stop her shoulders from trembling and her hands from shaking, but she cannot meet Tissaia’s gaze. Everything within her wants to retreat, to hide, to run away and never return lest she be made to face the consequences of her actions.
Everything I touch, I destroy.
She doesn’t know exactly how, but she manages to stand her ground. Where she was alight with power only moments ago, nothing but complete and utter exhaustion remains. Philippa’s face is pale, emotionless except for her eyes. There is confusion there and regret, grief and shame, defiance and fear.
She came here to fight, to win, to get what she wanted, but instead she’s met nothing but defeat. Should she apologise? Offer to make amends for the destruction she has wrought?
I shan’t. I won’t. I was right, I am right. And this is going to end on my terms, and if it’s the last thing I do. What will she do, have me expelled? She would never, that much I know.
Time to take a deep breath. The battle may be lost but the war may yet be won. Time to change the strategy.
Try to tell me again that this is not a game, because that is exactly what it is. All of it. I’ll play by my own rules. I’ll make this game my own. I can do this. I can and I will.
Here comes the calm after the storm, and it is much more disconcerting than her futile adolescent rage could ever be. This is the calm of a child forced to grow up before her time, the calm of an innocence lost far too soon. The calm of someone with nothing to lose.
The bitter taste of defeat still lingers on her tongue as she forces out words that drip with poison and contempt. Her voice is cold, detached, an unwitting emulation of the person she both loathes and admires more than anyone else in the whole entire world.
“With all due respect, headmistress de Vries, I remain concerned at the lack of clear expectations. Without such, I am afraid that I am unable to successfully work towards the required standards. If you would be so kind as to clarify, I would be much obliged.”
the disappointment tissaia could clearly see blossom over her student’s face and spread to her stance left her wondering as to its nature. was philippa disappointed in herself and her actions or was she disappointed that she had failed yet again to get what she wanted and so vehemently demanded? her own doubts lingered at the fore but she never allowed them to seep into what her response was going to be. the more chaotic philippa allowed herself to be, the more grounded the rectoress. she wouldn’t, not ever, let her wreak havoc and get away with it. this was pure, unadulterated provocation. a child’s trick.
her lips parted but no sound came from them because, once again, the girl’s emotions were plain as day, leading her, guiding her hand towards another way to claim victory. tissaia felt at war, her back forced up a wall she would cling to because any other alternative was neither acceptable nor redeemable. if her own emotions, her concerns, her pain, her affection, seeped into words or tone, she would lose - and she would lose philippa, too.
“you come here, you yell to demand answers, you destroy my belongings and now you dare talk to me about respect?” her chin jutted out, her head sitting higher it seemed, atop her shoulders. if philippa could only look at her, she would see for herself how tissaia felt about her theatrics. “if you are no longer able to ‘work towards the required standards’ you will not ascend.”
tissaia had no qualms about admitting her own failures. it cost her. it stung. swallowing her pride, even now, after all those decades, those hundreds of years, was no easy task but she would if it meant saving aretuza’s reputation, her own and sparring the continent.
“this was weak, philippa. you let it consume you and you reveled in it. this time, it was my office but the next? what will it be? who will it be? is this what you want? do you think you will earn anyone’s respect by behaving like a petulant child who cannot summon an ounce of control?”
her disappointment only grew with each word. could she have been so wrong, so blind? would philippa ever understand anything she was trying to teach and impart? her gaze slanted, found the door. it opened quickly, without making a sound. “you are dismissed, philippa. for the third time. fail to comply and you will be locked into your room until i decide otherwise.”
You will not ascend.
Those four words are like a slap to the face, a punch to the gut. This is the truth, pure and simple. This is no empty threat, it is a warning, the devastating consequence laid out before her in black and white. She wants to argue, to plead, to remind Tissaia that she is the best, miles ahead of her cohort, the quickest, the smartest, the strongest. Surely, she is immune to expulsion, surely Tissaia won’t show her the door after everything she has invested in her?
I can’t go back home! There’s nothing for me there, they won’t even let me back!
Panic grips her, like a noose tightening around her throat. She’s ruined it, she’s ruined it, she’s ruined everything, she’s going to get locked up and she’s going to be expelled and, and-
She can feel the tears burning in the corners of her eyes and it takes every last remaining scrap of strength to hold them back, to force down the mounting dread, locking it away in the deepest, darkest depths of her being.
There is nothing more pathetic than a sorceress in tears, and she is, damn it all, a sorceress. It is everything she wants to be, it is her purpose, her reason for existing. It is all that matters, yet here she is, so close to losing it all, forever.
What happens to the ones who don’t ascend? Nobody knew. They simply disappeared, never to be seen, never to be heard of again. Every trace of them expunged from the collective memory. To speak their names was forbidden. It had been jarring at first, an empty desk here, an empty bed there, an absence felt too keenly. Philippa remembers asking about it once, years ago, she’d barely finished the first year of her education. Her questions had been met with a wall of silence so threatening, so overwhelming that she did not dare attempt to breach it. She’d simply moved her books to the empty desk – below the window, she liked the window with its magnificent view of the ocean below and the sky above – and carried on with her work.
Will it be me they’ll forget next? Will you forget me too? I bet you remember all of them. Every single one.
She casts a furtive glance at Tissaia, immediately wishing she hadn’t looked up. The air of disappointment is tangible, and it is terrifying. Is there even any point in trying to regain what she has lost today, to repair the damage she has done?
Why does it have to be so hard to apologise, to make amends? Can amends still be made?
The door opens with a silent finality, and Philippa wonders if this will indeed be the last time that she walks out of this door, down these gloomy halls of this place she loves so fiercely, despite all her frustrations. She gathers herself, turning on her heel with an odd, wounded grace.
“I can do better than this. I can, and I will.”
the threat falls heavily after having spent so long looming over philippa’s head; and tissaia would have recoiled at the idea of brandishing it hadn’t she been confident that it is no threat. that these are no idle words bandied in the hope of placating a recalcitrant student. philippa is no recalcitrant student. she is a sorceress in the making, fully aware, or so she believed, of the extent of her capacities and the might of her power. she is chaos contained in a weak prison of flesh and blood and bones - and the weaker one of her mind. and she still labours under the delusion that she is a finished product, a golden child worthy of praise, an achievement deserving recognition.
that tissaia refuses to validate her, that she does not so much as blink in the face of her childish outburst, that she does not cater to her pointless needs, spurs her on. for now, she is calm once again, she is regaining some semblance of countenance. but for how long? and to what end? it is no game but it is one for her. a game with rules she doesn’t accept when she cannot wield them to her advantage,that she either ignores or forces to bend to her will.
is it shame preventing her from meeting her eye? tissaia’s chin juts out, her lips pulling tight in a thin, white line. there will be no expression of repentance, worded or otherwise. young, foolish, misleading pride stands in her way. pride and conceit. there is only so much that the rectoress can impart and teach, can set as an example. philippa’s own worth must be her own reward. such a contradictory girl, she is.
and stubborn.
her parting words are a testament to a perfection she strives for without realising she is yet to understand. doesn’t tissaia know all about it? about that all consuming desire to be perfect, to do perfect? the difference lies in the way they each view themselves and hold themselves accountable. in spite of what she has been told, shown, proven, her student is still intent on avoiding responsibilities. it will be her downfall, tissaia muses as she watches her walk away mighty and proud, if she does not learn to mend her ways.
when the sound of her footsteps have gone silent, she looks at the door to shut it and turns to contemplate the chaos reigning over her office. is this a prelude? is she letting something akin to affection, to care, blind her? the situation dictates that philippa’s tantrum ought to be reported. it ought to be but it won’t. something stays her hand still. something she will not acknowledge, something she discards by steeling herself and by coming up with a punishment. as long as philippa is here in aretuza, there is hope - and tissaia will try again.
“what’s confusing?” she asks, brows furrowing. “do you want me to explain it again?” she offers, smiling slightly. “i promise it’s not really that confusing. it’s just – not everything translates very well into common, i’m sorry.”
What was confusing? Just about everything. This was no way to work, it did not make sense, the method of magic employed here almost counterintuitive to what Philippa was accustomed to.
A dull ache was starting to form just behind her eyes, and her fingers were aching, stiff with both the effort of the unfamiliar gestures and the pervasive cold.
“I understand the principle well enough but how do you get it to flow?” She demonstrated, taking care to pronounce every syllable with perfect inflection, to keep her movements smooth and steady. It was inconsistent, her magic guttering and spluttering like a candle burning low.
“See what I mean?”
skadi watches as phillipa performs the spell. jotunn magic is very hard for outsiders to cast, she knows this. part of the power comes from their bloodline, and without it, it can be extremely difficult to master. “i see,” she says, nodding silently.
“when you say the words, can you feel the magic?” skadi asks, tilting her head slightly. “when they first teach us how to do it, they just want us to say the words and feel it in us. that usually helps. it helped me a lot when i first started out,” she offers, smiling encouragingly. “just try to feel it in your bones. let it flow in you and it will tell you how to use it.”
She ceases her spell, dismissing the flow of power with a flick of her wrist. This is embarrassing, she should have been able to replicate the spell almost instantly, yet here she was, struggling like a second year adept.
I have to do better.
“You can’t be serious?!” Philippa is incredulous, this is unheard of! To allow magic to take the lead, to allow it to shape itself? The thought of doing so alone sets her on edge. This is dangerous territory. Has she not been taught from day one that she must be the one in control, the one who shapes, who directs, who channels the wild energy into its desired shape? Everyone knows what happens to mages who surrender their control. She shudders at the thought.
She looks down at her hands, smooth and pale like marble, interlocks her fingers.
“And how can I trust that doing so won’t simply tear me apart? Because based on my considerate knowledge and expertise, it likely would.”
the jotunn lets out a laugh, her head shaking as she considers philipa’s words. they are taught to fear magic in aretuza, to not let it control you. she smiles to herself, unaware of how condescending her upturned lips are in this moment.
“jotunn magic is very different,” she explains. “you southerners – you see magic as good and evil. perhaps the magic you all use may be that way, but the magic of the giants? our magic is neither good nor evil. it just simply is,” she says, hoping it makes sense to her. “we are vessels for magic. it works with us. we don’t control magic, and magic doesn’t control us. we become one with magic. when you let that happen, it will work. i promise.”
Is she mocking her? Or is this some kind of elaborate trap she is about to let herself be lured into? A double-cross, a set-up to undo her?
The magician tenses, runs her fingers through her hair with quick, nervous fingers.
No reward without risk, right? This better be worth it.
“I understand the principle”, she replies, an edge to her voice. Impatient.
“To us, magic is a tool. It can destroy or it can create, it can break or it can mend. It can claim a life or save one. But you must control it, if it is to be made useful. A warrior must wield the sword, not the other way around. How will I know what it will actually do, if I do not bend it to my will?”
If she had not witnessed Skadi’s power with her own eyes, she would more than likely walk away without another word. But she has seen, and she has been awed by it, an illusion so perfect, so tangible, almost impossible to penetrate. The pinnacle of perfection.
“And if it does not work? If I was to lose control… I cannot guarantee anything, least of all your safety.”
A warning, in more ways than one.
with phil’s explanation, skadi can begin to understand the apprehension. in jotunheim you are one with magic, you are one with your weapon – it is an extension of who you are, not a tool. skadi nods along as phil speaks.
“i think i understand,” she says, her voice carefully measured. “but i consider you a friend philippa. i would not teach you this if i did not think you couldn’t handle it.” she hopes philippa can believe her words, for she speaks them with the utmost honesty. “would it make you feel better if i stepped back a bit, then?”
A friend?
Philippa is dubious, has she not learned that to trust anyone except herself is foolish, stupid, careless, a certain way to ensure one’s own demise? And yet, she can sense no lie here, no intention to betray. This is nothing like what she is used to, and it makes her uncomfortable, puts her on edge.
Time to take a leap of faith.
“No. Stay. I may need you to…”
This is beyond difficult to admit, but as with anything else, there’s a give and a take. Always. Maybe this is the true price to pay for this – her pride.
“If I was to lose control, you must restrain me, and you must do so without delay. I do not want to hurt you, or myself for that matter, but I cannot guarantee that I won’t. There is a reason why we practice our art with such restraint. A reason why we are so loath to relinquish our control.”
she watches as philippa struggles internally, head tilted as she waits for her to decide what to do. “alright,” skadi says, planting her feet firmly in the spot before phil. “if anything happens, i’m right here. you’ll be okay,” she promises, giving philippa an encouraging smile, hoping her friend actually believes her.
skadi readies her hands to cast a protection sphere if she needs to, but she’s confident in phil’s abilities – she’s seen her control herself with some of the most powerful magics there are. the giantess nods slightly, waiting for phil to try again.
A sharp intake of breath. Eyes closed, feet slightly apart. Solid. Grounded. Hands rising, moving with hesitation, her mind searching for the flow of force, finding it, relishing in that familiar feeling of power. A solemn nod towards Skadi, whose energy is clearly outlined against the swirling chaos that criss-crosses the inside of her eyelids.
Her first instinct is to contain it, to balance the scales, holding everything in perfect balance.
I can’t do this, she thinks. And then: But I am going to.
Philippa relinquishes her control.
It is as if someone had impaled her on a red hot iron spike. The pain is magnificent and at the same time unbearable, a force so strong that she is propelled backwards, almost thrown off her feet. The sorceress stumbles, desperate to find her footing, her balance, her control.
Release it. Become one with it.
“Do what you will”, she whispers to the great primordial force that courses through her, gaining momentum with every beat of her heart.
“Do what you will!”
It starts as a low hum, deep below the ground, a faint sense of vertigo. But the hum rises, rolls, becomes thunder, deafening and terrible and inevitable, as the ground begins to shake and strain, the ancient stones under her feet starting to crack with a sound like breaking bones.
Philippa jumps aside, without knowing how. She no longer controls her body, or any part of herself for that matter, taken by magic, every single nerve set alight with energy.
She’s aware of the great chasm that is opening up before her, a great abyss, so dark and so deep that it surely reaches down all the way to the centre of the very earth.
Magic continues to flow, and she is powerless to stop it.
she watches in awe at first, pleasantly surprised with the success philippa is having. that relief abandons her within mere seconds at the room around them shakes and strains. this is a reaction of jotunn magic she’s never seen before. skadi can feel the power emanating from phil, and it worries her. with a few words she casts the sphere, doing everything she can to contain the energy she releases.
“o lord ymir,” she pleads, eyes cast to the heavens, “grant strength and courage. o lady jord, grant me forgiveness. i know she is an outsider, but she is trusted!” she shouts, eyes cast to the earth now. “i, skadi thjazisdottir, ask for your trust, o great mother of earth!” her words are spoken like incantations, commanding the deities of her people to listen, forcing them to understand.
the world stops, all of the energy swirling around skadi and philippa like walls, as though they’re in the centre of a great storm. as though the gods themselves are taking in a breath, the energy is sucked away, throwing skadi against the wall. the earth no longer shakes, the sky no longer rumbles – they are left simply with an eerie calm. it settles over the room like a blanket, and for a moment the giantess swears she can feel the gods around her, telling her they forgive her.
she scrambles to her feet, running over to philippa. “phil, are you okay?” she asks, glacier eyes searching her friend for any hint of injury.
It keeps rising, that great tidal wave of power that floods through her, overwhelms her, threatens to tear her limb from limb. She has to take back control! Philippa tries to centre herself, desperately, hanging on by a thread, her vision is blurring and every bone in her body feels as if it has been shattered like glass. Someone is screaming out in agony, and for a moment she is back at Sodden, fires burning all around her, the bodies of the fallen piling up by her feet, not a single speck of ground that isn’t soiled with spilled blood while the tide of battle surges towards her.
No! Not this!
It is her own voice that she hears, full of terror and rage.
Philippa Eilhart collapses to the ground, her legs simply giving way underneath her, the rough stone tearing her clothing, leaving a bloody scrape against her skin, yet the magic won’t stop flowing.
I can’t stop! It won’t stop!
Only it does.
She’s not sure what hurts more – the surge of power or its sudden absence. The sorceress is left reeling, her breath fast and ragged, and there’s something warm and wet dripping down her face. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, unsurprised when it comes away bloody.
Suddenly, Skadi is there beside her, that cool, calm, immovable presence, her hand upon Philippa’s shoulder endlessly reassuring, an anchor to reality.
Philippa looks up, once more wiping blood from her face.
“I’m going to be. I – I’ve never felt a force like that before. I’m surprised I’m not dead, to be perfectly honest.” Philippa reaches out with her mind, it’s painful to do so in this state, but something needs to be said, something that she’s far too proud to say in any other way.
