Full Fic On AO3 (Scroll down for Tumblr)
Ok, I lied; I had time today to put up the directory again. Lineup by @feraljayce!
Welcome, readers old and new! This is a dark fantasy universe in which the princesses are trying to survive the perils of humanity at only a few inches' height. Despite being a crossover with The Borrowers, all you need to know is that the Princesses are tiny little guys! Think of it as “Reverse Tower;” no prior knowledge needed.
Fic TWs: Cannon-Typical Violence, Black Markets, Dehumanization, Animal Death, Genocidal Themes, Detailed PTSD, Mithridatism (Self-Poisoning), Prisoner-of-War Imagery, Manic Episodes, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Ideation, Predator/Prey Imagery, Cannibalistic Elements, Allegorical Intersexism, Body Dysphoria, Gender & Sex Dysphoria, Humanoid Trafficking, Internalized Ableism.
An Illustrated Work Featuring art from @feraljayce , @letoilepourpre, @territorial-utopia, @justanumber , @fenneggs-n-toast & others!
This is a dark fantasy universe in which the princesses are trying to survive the perils of humanity at only a few inches' height. When outrunning the Echo leaves them forced to find shelter, they may have to adapt to a benefactor’s cabin to wait out the storm. Yet with curious phantoms and towering ravens, this may be easier said than done… And oh, did I mention that this tale is rather gay?
Despite being a crossover with The Borrowers, all you need to know is that the Princesses are tiny little guys! No prior knowledge needed (though I welcome any questions!)
Tws for those who need em under the cut!
Fic TWs: STP-Typical Violence, Black Markets, Dehumanization, Animal Death, Genocidal Themes, Detailed PTSD, Mithridatism (Non-Lethal Self-Poisoning), Prisoner-of-War Imagery, Manic Episodes, Implied/Referenced Humanoid Trafficking, Minor Character Death, Implied Parental Death, Suicidal Ideation, Predator/Prey Imagery, Cannibalistic Elements, Body Dysphoria, [Overcome] Intersexism, Survivor’s Guilt, Internalized Ableism. All are well-researched & handled respectfully.
I would have this posted up on the blog but it’s multi-chartered and I don’t wanna miss any of these tws on posting :c But if people need the doc to read, do let me know and I can slide it! Forget what I said earlier lmao it's up
On Borrowed Paths Chapter 18: Leavings & Lockdowns
Full Fic On AO3 & Tws here.
(Hey, remember when I talked about Witch PTSD? I’m sure this is nothing related….)
…
“You’re doing what?!”
Witch blinked back at Thorn, tail puffing. “Nuh uh. Sis, you’ve said it before. We’re here for a reason —“
“The situation has changed.” Beast stepped forward, pawing Witch gingerly to the side. Her gaze was cold and steely as she fixated on Thorn, but gave a nod of approval. “As much as I would like to deny it, The Obsessed has been a threat for decades. Facing him head-on is the only way to regain the power he stole. But,” Beast urged, “it will be harder. You are unpracticed against predators, and your form is lacking.”
Beast swiftly raised a paw. On instinct, Thorn wrapped it in binding weeds, stopping mid-packing to avoid her lunge and roll out of the way. Only when Beast gave her signal that the test was done did Thorn release her mentor, giving a quizzical look back.
“You’ve come much further in the past few weeks than you have in years,” Beast acknowledged, circling her quarry. “But remember to act. Not question. You will not survive on the defensive.”
Witch bristled. From her shin she drew one backup dagger, then the other. She handed both of them over to Thorn hilt first.
“If you have to go out, take the shrew,” Witch insisted. “I know you don’t like venom, but it may be the only wa—“
“Shrew will do nothing against a predator like that.” Beast rubbed her jaw, and pushed in — hard. Blood dripped from her gums as fang began to loosen voluntarily, dropping to the floor in front of the Heiress. A fang shed far too soon; by force, not convenience. Witch understood the severity and reluctantly withdrew her weapons.
“Chimera venom will not kill a monster of that size,” Beast analogued, rolling it forward, “but if you’re lucky it’ll give you a couple seconds to dodge before he strikes again.”
“Seconds?!” Thorn balked.
“His body is far more mighty than yours. His blood will filter out the toxins faster.” Beast lashed her tail. “But, you’re not defenseless. You’re faster. Lighter. Gravity will not affect you the same way it does him. So you can run circles around him with the right equipment.”
“Then I’ll need to immobilize him,” Thorn reasoned. “The vines are the only way. If he’s restrained, we can do what we have to.” Thorn knew from her endeavors in the kitchen that her powers were stronger than they had ever been before; if she could subdue Quiet easily, a bear should be no problem.
“And remember the Tonic,” Witch urged. While her form was stoic, Thorn could see the panic lashing in her sister’s eyes. “If you use yourself up again, you’ll drop. You need to replenish fast if you want to survive.”
“I’ve got plenty on me,” Thorn replied, pulling out a flask. “I’ll keep stocking myself up,” Thorn placed a hand on Witch’s. “Don’t worry; I’ll make it through.”
Witch did not seem reassured.
Now wasn’t a time for peace of mind. Thorn might’ve healed and gained self worth, but she was still physically vulnerable. One tiny mouse of a person was in no way capable of taking down a Titan like that. Humans had tried and failed.
She needs to take these warnings seriously! This isn’t a joyride…
Beast didn’t seem to care, or notice. Maybe she knew something Witch didn’t; despite her reservations, Witch listened carefully.
“Remember to stay invisible,” Beast continued. “He might’ve lost his eyesight to the Devoured, but his other senses are sharper to compensate.” Beast circled idly. “Prey, tell me: what do blind creatures rely on?”
“Smell and sound,” Thorn recited. “The shift of the atmosphere around them. The vibrations of the earth.” The Heiress finished tying up her belongings, giving a nod. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of oils in here to draw away the scent. And I can be as silent as I need to.” Thorn shifted on all fours, nails tucked down. Her boots masked the sound of her hind paws entirely. “Remember, I won’t be going it alone.”
“As if.”
Beast scoffed as the plucky badger strode forward from behind her, knocking her sideways. An incredulous look followed as Beast stumbled sideways, but Smitten’s focus was far from the others.
“Heiress,” the badger trilled, “I am honored to be your chosen consort.”
Excellent. Thorn had chosen the worst possible Voice in this endeavor.
Yet even this didn’t seem to waver the Heiress as she stepped forward confidently, placing a hand to his paw. “I hear you’re not bad in combat,” Thorn murmured, examining the jagged edge of his claws. “I presume Stubborn is far out in the woods by now, but once we catch up we should have a solid team.”
“Love and violence are a package deal for you, aren’t they?” Smitten extended his paw affectionately. “I’ve got a nose for romance; reuniting you with your beloved will be no trouble at all.”
“As if anyone would have trouble smelling her,” Witch huffed to herself. Her eyes desperately fell to Beast, whose pursed lips and sullen glance passed her.
But Thorn, of course, was playing along with the badger’s antics. A soft smile back at Smitten, who braced his teeth against the small burlap sack.
“Royalty needn’t concern Herself with the weight of Her travels,” Smitten purred. “Allow me, Your Highness.” With a dip of his head, the plucky badger tucked the bags into a small, rather ornate pair of saddlebags. It seemed he had spared no expense in dressing himself to be her noble steed….
Beast couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She needs to be sneaky. That’s going to draw attention. Giving a breath, Beast relinquished her concerns. Play along. She needs to keep her courage.
Thorn gave a swish of her tail, then mounted. The saddle fit perfectly, her form fitting perfectly. Yes, it would draw attention — but it also gave a sense of power. While Smitten was squat, he was hefty; his claws alone were sharp enough to split the earth beneath them. He wouldn’t fail her. And if courage was what she needed right now, she’d take every drop.
With slunk almost desperately over to Beast, dropping her voice to a growly whisper. “Aren’t we going to —?!”
“Hush, kit,” Beast growled, placing a paw to her mouth. “We’ll talk later.” Her attention focused on the Heiress once more; determining her move would depend on every motion.
As Thorn shifted in the saddle, it seemed that she was bracing to take off. Hunted’s form was visible on the porch, rubbing off his shedding velvet on the posts. Smitten began a slow trot away from the house.
Witch balked. “Wait. You’re leaving already?”
“Yeah,” Thorn shrugged. “I mean, the sooner the better if he’s prowling out there.”
“You’re not at least saying goodbye to the lovebirds?”
“We already said our goodbyes back at the Network.” Hesitating, Thorn raises a brow. “Why?”
Witch hesitated. As Thorn waited for a response, Smitten turned to her expectantly; upon recieving the Heiress’s nod, he returned in position.
“I’m—“
“Darling, I promise I’ll take care of her.” Smitten crooned down at the little Fae. “She’ll return alive and well. And even if that I have to lay down my own life to be sure of that —“
“I’m going with you!”
The fires finally sparked in Witch’s eyes, the depth of the situation sinking in. Her first few bounds were successful, but a final leap towards the badger’s saddle was dashed with the resounding snap of the Chimera’s jaws. Beast held the princess still between her teeth, signaling a silent request to Thorn with her eyes:
Well? Go on, before she gets more restless.
Thorn nodded back at the pair of them. Her tail flicked in parting as Smitten trotted away, his own swishing gleefully as they departed.
As soon as Thorn was out of earshot, the chimera deposited the Fae on the cabin floor in a sodden heap, blinking off her confusion.
“Hey,” Witch growled, lighting to her feet, “what the hell was that for?!”
A finger pointed sharply up at Beast, drenched tail lashing.
“You’re going to make this worse than it has to be,” Beast snarled back, her gaze just as pointed. “She needs to keep her nerve, and you nearly ruined it.”
“She clearly has none,” Witch hissed back. “You saw who she chose. That stupid badger won’t be enough to protect her.”
“Do you think I’m a fool? I know that,” Beast urged, jaw clenched. “She’s not going it ‘alone’ with just the pair of them.”
Beast turned her attention to Den, who was washing herself in the living room. Beast’s tail thwacked on the ground to signal her, giving a growl; Den looked up, confused.
Follow Her, Beast signaled with her eyes. But be discreet about it. She’s going out into the woods again.
Den blinked, processing the information. I just got back.
You know the drill, Beast sighed. Our first priority is to protect the Heiress. You can rest later.
Giving an almost audible huff, Den stumbled back onto her feet. Six sharp appendages padded reluctantly against the wood, keeping her approach concealed.
“Domestication has taken its toll on my packmate,” Beast grumbled, shaking her head. “But she’s still hardy. She’s gained a lot more advantage over these woods with the traits she’s assimilated from hunts.“ Her gaze hardened. “Your sister will survive, even if she takes a few lashes. But if something does happen, we’ll need you here to take over. You’re the next in line, and I know that’s a fate you’ve trained for.”
“… Yeah, to protect her. I’m not cut out for — Urrrrgh.”
Witch couldn’t think straight, frozen on the spot. All this time of trying to keep them both alive had backfired in a single moment; as she watched the trio planning their way through the woods, Witch was positive this was the last time she’d ever see her sister.
Teary-eyed and growling, the Fae lighted towards the directly of the sink. Her paws fell haphazard on the hardwood floor; she needed to get a grip. And maybe if she just got herself washed off she’d be able to focus —
Beast watched the panicked Fae from a distance, shaking her head. I knew this would happen, she thought to herself. But there isn’t any help for it now. She understands, much as she doesn’t want to; I can only hope that she’ll come to her senses eventually. With that, Beast wandered back into the dining room, lazing under the table. It would take some work to put her own mind to ease, but she’d surely do her best.
Witch reached the sink with effort, panting at the arrival. The gleam of the overhead faucet towered over her, reminding her that this world was not built with her in mind. So foreign, so artificial… Her eyes darted carefully over to the faucet, reaching a brambled vine out to turn it —
“Ow!”
Witch blinked, alarmed. Her attempt had been intercepted by their massive host putting away the dishes.
“… Oh.” Quiet softly withdrew his hand, looking down at her apologetically. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—“ It took just a moment for him to recognize her intent, giving a nod. “Um… Let me go ahead and draw a bath for you, ok? I’m sure that’s easier than messing with the water yourself.”
“I can do it myself, idiot.” The child’s tail lashed against the marble.
“Well, yeah, I know you can.” Quiet moved towards the sink, shifting to adjust the temperature. “But I think we risk a lot less burst pipes with my hands than your magic,” Quiet chuckled, nibbling the vine from his arm.” I think I’ve felt enough of these things to know you’ve got a vice grip on them.”
Witch’s annoyance overshadowed her panic. As much as she wouldn’t admit it, quarreling with this featherbrain was a welcome distraction.
“… Fine. But that’s all, ok?”
Quiet nodded. His talons worked carefully to pluck a clean bowl from the side of the cabinets, filling it with warm water. Once he was done he set it carefully to the side and stepped away; he could always come back and tend to the dishes later. He only glanced long enough to watch Witch slither over to the bowl and flop in dejectedly. Her motions were more out of necessity than desire, and it stung to see her so put out.
Poor kid, he sighed. I wish there was more I could do… But even he knew what it was like being separated from family, and thus knew it was easier said than done. He’d leave her alone for now.
Sitting alone, it seemed the same thoughts crept up on Witch herself. The warm water eased the physical aches and pains, but it wasn’t enough to keep her anxieties at bay. Witch washed herself off briskly, leaping out onto a kitchen rag as soon as done; she had a spare dress or two she could put on while this one dried back in her room. That would be enough.
Shaking herself like a wet dog, the Fae lighted down towards the pantry, and advanced. She would take the long way back to Spectre’s place.
Fetching a cup from the coffee table, Quiet settled on the couch with a soft huff. He could feel the wavering frost in his fingers begin to dissipate, revealing his spectral wife once more.
“You did your best, Killer,” Spectre murmured solemnly. “I think very little will reassure her now.”
“I’m worried about her,” Quiet sighed, shifting his position. “She just seems so scared and angry.”
“I think she has been this entire time,” Spectre corrected. “Believe me, I’d made some progress —“ Spectre’s gaze drifted downward. But then lost it. All for selfish reasons; one that hurt everyone.
“I think we both did,” Quiet replied. “She’s trying. But we should give her some space.”
“Mmh.” Spectre didn’t necessarily agree, but she kept her mouth shut. Being part of the pack meant taking care of its members, didn’t it? There was little gained by Witch slinking off into a corner, never to return. Maybe I should check on her, she thought. Give her some space to cool down first, then see if she wants company. That seems to have helped her sister just fine…
Sometimes, maternal instinct could be a bitch. And Witch might as well be her kin at this point; she’d do what she could to make things easier for her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Quiet murmured. “I wouldn't, if I were you.”
“No?”
“No,” Quiet bristled. “She’ll come out when she wants to.”
“And what if she doesn’t?”
“Then that’s her choice.” Taking a dredge of the lukewarm beverage, Quiet adjusted his gaze to the chimera by the fire. “We can’t rush these things,” he chirped. “The Fae are fickle and afraid. And even if I’m the bigger one, you’re not exactly—“
Spectre squinted. “— Exactly what?”
“Honey, you’re a bit intense.” Setting the cup down, Quiet brushed a talon against the edge of her chin, giving a soft but stern glance down. “It’s a little hard for them to adjust when you’re always knocking into everyone’s business. But, you’re your own free agent. I know you’re gonna do what you want.” Lowering the claw, he turned back to the fireplace. “Just remember that these cats have claws. And if you get scratched up, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t,” Spectre nodded. Taking in what Quiet had said, she pased her own meaning from the words. He’s right, she reasoned. I can’t rush in too fast. But all the same, if I don’t at least make sure she’s ok, the nagging fear won’t leave me alone. Am I wrong for needing that? Will she even forgive me if I try?
Spectre turned her head to the tunnels, feeling a new kind of guilt eating her away.
Well, only one way to find out.
——-
Back at the tunnels, Witch had made her way back to Spectre’s quarters. Her own room was heavy with the scent of sandalwood, the pelts of prey almost welcoming in this light. She undressed, laying her former attire in the corner of the room. She could probably summon something to dry it out later, but for now she stumbled towards the walnut shell dresser, and pulled out a change of clothes with her teeth.
This dress had been one that Quiet had acquired from the markets; a vibrant purple fabric, adorned with gold and orchid filigree. Something about the sophistication reminded her of the lavish times she had shared with the Damsel back in the woods; maybe it was time to see how things were on the other foot. With uncharacteristic ceremony, she twirled into the gown and shifted to a propped up shard of glass, placing a hand to her cheek to inspect herself.
“It suits you.”
Witch whirled around, tail aflame.
“Wh— Where did you come in? Don’t you know how to knock?!”
“Don’t worry; I just got here,” Spectre trilled, waving a hand dismissively.
“Not. Helping,” Witch hissed through gritted teeth. “I thought I told you well enough to peel off.”
Spectre merely hovered in the corner, either not getting the hint or not caring. Witch bristled.
“What. Do you want?”
“To help you, if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t need help,” Witch growled, pacing. Her gaze never left Spectre as she reverted to walking backwards, trying to formulate the words. “I just —“
A flicker of genuine intent caught Witch’s eye, and ceased her steps. This wasn’t some trap or means of coaxing her to demise; despite her clumsy and insensitive means, Spectre meant well. And sure, there was a selfish, greedy whim beneath that humanitarianism, but it wasn’t malfeasance. Just two animals stumbling in the dark, with one vying that commensal bond from the other. She couldn’t fault the ghost for her nature.
Witch could see that calm, collected nature as Spectre leaned down towards her, extending a palm. Her gut wrenched as she felt her back press against the corner; this was all too much. Even good intent had its flaws, and this was just too—
“It’s ok. I know you’re scared—“
Witch couldn’t remember when or why her hand extended first, but it wasn’t her who first made contact before instinct made its mark. Claws unsheathed in full force, hitting the corporeal form in the face hard. Spectre flinched and hissed, blinking uneasily as a trail of neural tissue exposed, ectoplasm leaked from the cut —-
Witch’s eyes widened in horror.
She can feel that?! Witch realized. The Wild. She’s connected, and so am I. … Did I do that?
Spectre looked down, momentarily lost. Witch’s eyes remained locked like a cornered animal, cowering from a perceived threat.
“I said get back,” Witch murmured, shoving herself forward. Instinct had forgotten that the ghost was easily passable, slamming down hard on the floor before scurrying off to Thorn’s quarters.
Spectre remained settled there, placing a hand to her cheek. A single tear dripped down before she turned away, getting the message. She could reform outside of the walls, and give the Fae some much-needed space.
Witch, on the other hand, was a four-legged blur of motion. She had scarcely felt this level of adrenaline since Thorn’s fall, and she wasn’t planning on stopping until she was sure she was safe. That stupid ghost had to just keep pushing them both into danger —!
No; this one’s my fault.
Finally making it to the sponge mattress, Witch’s quadrupedal scurry subsided. Even now she could hear the couple’s voices from outside the walls; angry, yet hushed, as she tried to pick up the sound. Her tail twitched uneasily, huddling there in the dark a moment; fear and instinct was what it came down to, and that lack of trust could be fatal. All she could do now was sit and wait.
“I told you not to mess with her.” Quiet growled at his wife, plumicorns flattened with a scowl. “You’re not getting my sympathy on this.”
Spectre trailed at his side reluctantly, dipping her head. Some hum of confirmation came half-hearted from her jaws, then nothing more.
I know what I did was wrong. Spectre acknowledged. I pushed too hard. I deserve this. Spectre instead said nothing, wiping the blood from her cheek. Blood — real, actual blood — hadn’t drawn from her veins in years, but much as it intrigued her, the weight of guilt was heavier right now. She had tried to force that trust again, and she paid the price. I sensed this would happen. So why did I do it anyway?
Frustration and confusion flared in the ghost’s expression. It was less the rejection that got to her than the prick of longing in that child’s eyes; she wanted that help, but didn’t know how to take it. It wasn’t rage which fueled the little scamp in the walls, but a primal, wary fear. So maybe instead she needed to behave like the animals did —
— I need to back off. Spectre chided herself, giving an internal growl. She’s right. I’ll just… Read her cues the best I can, and if an opening comes, I’ll take it. But I can’t rush it. This isn’t about me.
“… So what now?”
“What do you mean ‘what now?’ You botched this.” Quiet crossed his arms, wings folded to his side. “We wait. She’ll come out when she wants to.”
“And if she doesn’t…?”
“We just wait.”
Trembling eyes glanced warily around the space in the walls. Witch hugged her knees in the corner of Thorn’s room, tail twitching as she examined her hand. She hated feeling this vulnerable, just relieved that no one else could see her right now. That mingling with a guilty grief of her own had taken over the tiny Fae, gritting her teeth as she took in the unoxidized blue of Spectre’s blood.
Forget feeling. I need the facts.
Alright. So she’d managed to make the stupid ghost bleed. And judging by the yelp and flinch, she had hurt her badly enough. How?! The Wild was connected enough to Thorn, but as secondborn, Witch’s own bloodline was supposed to be weaker. Unless the Wild had decided somehow she needed that strength… The Wild was rather nosy when it came to resolving conflict.
Witch felt a bristle down her spine. Thorn’s powers hadn’t passed to her already, had they? Had something already gone wrong with the mission…?
The Fae gave a chiding growl. You’d have felt it if she died, idiot, Witch shook her head. No, Thorn’s still out there. It probably just decided I needed some help now that I’m alone. Her tail thwacked hard against the wooden supports. But help with what?
Turning her attention to the tense conversation outside, Witch was picking one turmoil over another. She could scarcely hear past their hushed tones, yet knew the severity of the act enough:
… Getting out of here?!
She had been given an olive branch, and slapped it away. She had injured the host’s wife. There was no returning that now.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Urghhh, they’re never going to let me stay here now. Yet the secondary, more sinister thought crept up in her mind:
… Am I even going to be able to leave?
Witch knew the beans kept Fae trapped, even Wild, to make an “example of.” No, they wouldn’t, Witch reasoned. Not if they ever wanted anyone to come back here again. Heh, they’re better off just killing me right then and there—
Breathing in, Witch allowed the yellow seep of her mana to take hold once again, readjusting her pulse to an even rate and soothing her nerves. She was spiraling, wasn’t she?
Witch took a moment to choke out the mental ichor, battling her own inner demons. No; this couple was kind, and they meant it. So despite her reservations, maybe going to apologize was the best move.
And they expect me to do what — apologize for defending myself? Tch, yeah right. The little Fae rolled her eyes, feeling her tail slash against the hardwood. Dignity was a sacrifice, but if it was laying down her sword for her own safety, she would begrudgingly lower her claws.
I hate this. Stupid, wretched — !
Witch fumbled for her things. She could still fight back if they tried to strike, yet somehow she didn’t expect that to be the case.
“—What do you want me to say? We don’t give out bandages for cat scratches,” Quiet growled down at his wife. “If she hit you—“
Tiny footsteps made their way along the corridor, barely even bothering to take the long way across the grandfather clock. The pulsing of the droning wood only amplified her heartbeat as Witch slithered across the walls to greet them; as the couple’s heads turned, she could see their relief.
“… Hey. Sorry, were we too loud?”
Quiet fumbled to stand, and the Fae could feel the piercing shock in Spectre’s gaze. Guilt and grief ignited it as she blinked it away, reverting her gaze to the floor. Witch flinched away as Quiet approached, mostly on instinct — oh, she hated how much she wanted this. But tender hands were hard to find, and she knew a paternal bond when it was offered. She wouldn’t protest. Not now, at least.
Witch tilted her head. “You’re not mad?”
“No. Why would we be?”
Witch practically melted in his hands. The gentle scruffing on the back of her neck was soothing (Beast had taught him well), depositing her into the palm of his hand.
“… Oh. Not you. I’m mad at her,” Quiet murmured low, giving a wing twitch towards Spectre. “I told her not to.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you did.” Witch managed. Feeling almost silly now, she set her bag next to her, keeping her weapons sheathed against her legs. “But you know,” she managed, raising her voice, “some people just don’t listen.”
“She’s not used to cats,” Quiet managed apologetically, shifting to return to his spot.
“Or boundaries,” Witch hissed.
“No, she’s not,” Quiet agreed. Much as it hurt, he understood this was the right move; Spectre wasn’t going to learn by blindly taking her side every time. His tail feathers shifted awkwardly, noticing the agitation in Witch’s eye as she looked over in Witch’s direction.
‘My room?’ Quiet asked with a tilt of his plumes. ‘Distance?’
Witch lowered her head in a nod. ‘Away from trouble,’ she signed in chimeric. ‘Easier this way.’ And thus, she permitted Quiet to take the lead.
Getting used to being held had been one of the easier parts of her acquaintance with Quiet, strangely enough. The avian always kept his palm spread open, talons lifted to the sky to avoid injury to any of his passengers. Being the scamp that she was, Witch preferred to weave around his fingers opposed to staying put; wedging herself between thumb and forefinger, she could easily weave her tail around his middle for security. That way, she could watch the world go by a hundred of her own steps at a time.
“You don’t have to go this slow, you know,” she remarked absently, sniffing at the air. “I’m not gonna fall.”
“I know, it’s just… Habit.”
Being calm with Quiet didn’t bother her as much as Witch had initially expected. Despite her reservations, the bird was kind, even if a little daft. He knew well enough how to read her cues, and feared the alternative poisonings enough not to pry past her leeway. But besides that, he had a healthy dose of curiosity.
For once in her life, Witch was a peer to learn from and not an object to be studied — a lesson which would go quite a ways for his wife. As Quiet stumbled into the bedroom, his hands settled by the dresser to set the little Fae down as soon as there was an opening.
“Mmh, ok. There we go.” His hand absently perused a drawer, scuffling out a handful of knicknacks at random for her to sort through. “I’ll give you a sec to look through those first if you like.”
Witch immediately dove for a needle. Even with her own backup daggers strapped to her shins, the feeling of cold steel in her palms was reassuring to the touch.
“… Yeah. So—“
“I’m… Sorry you had to deal with that. With her.”
“Mmh. It’s not you I’m mad about,” Witch murmured dismissively, finding a jewel to sharpen it with.
“I know that,” Quiet murmured. Awkwardly settling on the edge of the bed, he kept his gaze away from her to give her some space. Soon, the only sound in the room was the sound of scraping metallic. “I just feel responsible.”
“Well don’t be,” Witch scoffed. “That’s stupid.”
“Yeah,” Quiet chuckled. “You might be right.”
Witch was in no mood to talk; that much was clear. Her eyes were laser sharp on the new implement like her life depended on it, pupils dilating and contracting with interest. But at least she was channeling that frustration productively. Whether or not that was one in the same thoughts with exorcising Spectre in the moment didn’t really matter; that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon, so there was no harm in it.
Unless she decides to jab that thing into me instead, Quiet thought wearily. I did kinda set myself up.
There was a strange, mutual understanding between feline and corvid. At the end of the day, humanity didn’t care how logical their fear was in the opponent; they would wreak havoc on whatever moved, be it gentle giant or a cornered sixteen year old girl. And even though he had only known this little Fae after the fact, Quiet didn’t have to question that it was them that had made her this way. He’d seen glimpses of the whimsy and delight that had come before, and the hesitation that stung like a bitter acid on her fingertips every time she reached for it.
He hated it.
So for now, he’d take the silence and the sharpening. In feline tongue, this was its own standard of bonding.
“You don’t have to stick up for her all the time, you know.” Witch tilted her head, slipping the pin through the side of her dress to scavenge.
“I’m not,” Quiet responded. “That’s why I left her to fend this one out herself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her claws scrabbled for a marble, tail swishing curiously. “You say that, but you’ve been kinda a pushover this whole time, Feathers.”
Oh, was she actually opening up to him now? Candid feedback was a surprise, but if it kept her talking…
“We’re working on it.” Quiet raised a brow. “But really, what business is that of yours?”
“Plenty, if I live here,” Witch murmured. “And besides,” she grinned, “it isn’t like you’re hiding much. Your walls are thin, and we’re in them.”
Quiet choked back in alarm.
“Not these walls specifically,” Witch chirped. “I’m not prying into your personal life.” Had she actually turned her back to him? Pointed as it was, that was surprising… “I just mean that you were all too fine with getting clawed open, like when Thorn —“
Witch bit back the words. Ok, that was getting too personal.
“… Oh.” Absently, Quiet overturned his hand. The bitter hint of those claw pricks still stung against his flesh, even in her absence. “I can imagine that was hard for you to watch.”
“I’m not talking about me!“ Witch lighted, defensive as she whirled back around. “It’s you that need to grab a better spine. Urrgh. If you don’t start actually standing up for yourself—-“
Quiet nodded. “This isn’t about enemies, kid. But I get it.”
“All I’m saying is to watch your back, because if you don’t, no one else will. Trust is a curse, and you’re filled with it.” Then, with a shake of her head: “I still don’t know how you do it, letting strangers into your house that could kill you in your sleep—“
“— You almost did,” Quiet reminded.
“I could've. That’s my point,” Witch snapped. “It’s not smart.” By now, Witch has amassed a reasonable helping of trinkets from the table, placing them into the bag she’d been carrying. “But you won’t have to worry about that for much longer.”
“I would hope not,” Quiet chuckled nervously.
“And you can do just fine without having to shill out in the food budget.”
“You’re fine; you guys have got some expensive taste, sure, but you don’t eat that much. And it isn’t like Contrarian doesn’t give out crazy discounts.” Quiet tilted his head, suspicious. “…. Hang on. What are you getting at?”
Witch stood up, shooting Quiet a solemn, knowing look. “I think you and I both know how this ends, don’t we?”
Quiet squinted. “… Huh?”
“Come on. You can’t possibly be that stupid.” Witch scuttled to the far side of the dresser. “Thank you, for what you’ve done for us,” Witch scoffed, her words half-hearted, “but I really should be off by now.”
Quiet blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yeah,” Witch shrugged, swiping her makeshift weapon. “I am. We all knew this day was coming, didn’t we?” Her gaze shifted to the door, giving a dismissive swipe of her hand. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll fare fine around here without a nasty creature like me.”
“You’re not — Hang on. Wait.” Quiet stumbled to his feet, forgetting to be patient. Taken aback, Witch stumbled back, raising the needle challengingly. “Shit, sorry. I mean, fuck. You don’t have to go. We just have to work this out.”
“I don’t want to work this out,” Witch snarled. “I’m not going to apologize. I did nothing wrong,” she sneered. “And without resolution, I already know what happens next.” There was a pain dribbled in her eyes, but she clenched her jaw instead, unwilling to let it go. “So go ahead and kick me out already.”
“I’m not… No, I’m not doing that.” Quiet dropped his hands to his sides. “I don’t mean right now,” the behemoth sighed, “and no, you don’t need to say anything. So long as you’re not expecting me to throw her out instead —“
“I’m not. She already owns this place, and much as I may hate her, she can have it. I don’t belong here.”
Quiet ran a hand through his feathers. “… Sheesh, kid, you are not an easy one to argue with.”
“I could say the same of you,” Witch hissed back, lowering the needle again. It was all talk; Quiet was too cowardly to strike her again. He fear was wavering. “But my mind’s made up. You’re not talking me out of it.”
Quiet sighed under his breath. “I see. Are you sure there’s no easier way to deal with this? Any way to make you more comfortable, at least until Thorn—?”
“No. There’s not.”
Witch lowered her gaze, giving him an empathetic look. “I’m supposed to be out in the woods anyways, featherbrain; being housebroken isn’t in my nature. I’ll gather up my things and me out of your plumes by morn—“
“You’re not leaving.”
Quiet’s tone had shifted. Sterner, firmer. Witch felt it as she stowed a couple of the new borrowings, feeling the chill run down her spine; something had changed about his demeanor, and she didn’t like it. Cautiously, she glared up. The glint in her eyes was palpable.
“What did you say?”
Quiet balked. “Look, it’s nothing personal—“
“No,” Witch hissed, “I want you to say it again.” Her blade unclipped from her shin. “With your whole throat, like last time.”
Quiet averted her gaze. “… Ok, look. Beast and I were talking—“
“Oh! Have you, now? Behind my back?” Witch’s ears flattened, eyes wide with challenging, sickening joy. “So let me guess! She wants to keep me trapped here until Thorn comes back in case my sister dies out there instead of helping her, isn’t that right?!” Witch’s lips twisted into a manic grin. “I knew it! I should’ve known you two were in on this together!”
Tears foaming from her eyes, Witch averted the panicked swipe from Quiet’s hand and dug her blade into her hand — hard. The shrew fang splintered on impact, her veins screaming at the sudden hit of venom. It was all she could to to keep her from driving the weapon into her host’s hand instead, and despite the pleasantries and well-meaning actions she knew the truth: a well-meaning betrayal was still a betrayal, and she’d need the extra hit of mithridatic poison to keep her blood awake. The fang itself, useless now, toppled off the counter along with her, and in a wide-eyed scurry she was off.
Quiet wasn’t sure if he wasn’t fast enough, or overcome with disbelief at what he’d done. His shaken hand picked up from the spot where he’d lunged for the poor Borrower, wincing at the realization that he’d seen where she’d gone into the walls. Having violated multiple rules of Fae contact, Quiet bristled out of the bedroom, breaths running ragged as he returned to the living room.
And of course, returning panicked and empty handed, Spectre was staring right at him. “Is something the matter?”
Quiet didn’t respond for a moment, catching his breath. The alarm only rose with every breaking moment.
“What did you do?!” Spectre’s normal tone broke off sharp and shrill,
“I… I didn’t mean to… She was talking about running off, and I kinda sort of… Dove for her?”
“You did not!”
Spectral rage had shattered the bulb above their heads. It took what was left of Quiet’s strength to shield himself from the shower of glass, hardly even wanting to look in Spectre’s direction as Beast slunk off.
“She’s in the walls,” Beast growled, tail twitching for the scent. “Searching for an exit. But she can’t leave this place and go running out in the woods, especially not in this state —“
“But we expect her to be fine staying after someone decided to try and grab her?!”
Quiet glowered right back down at Spectre, tone growing defensive. “I’m not the one who started this! If you hadn’t gone and panicked her in the first place—“
Beast stamped her foot, glancing at them expectantly. “Are either of you going to help, or are you going to stand around arguing like a bunch of idiots?”
Spectre lowered her head. “I think this is beyond me. We’ve already done enough damage, and she has to want to stay —“
“— No, she doesn’t,” Beast snapped back, “because the other option is dead. So you two are useless.” Snarling, Beast watched the walls. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Crouching by the nearest exit, Beast prepared herself to pounce. Doubt, unfortunately, clouded her judgement, and when the skitter of footsteps came racing past, Witch was all but faster.
Claws extended in a pell-mell fury, Witch had made her way across drawers and table legs to get to the exit. The couple remained eerily transfixed by the prowling display, watching the Fae dodge every pounce and swipe seamlessly. For Beast had trained her all too well for a chimeric betrayal, and even if this had not been the intended purpose of that skill set, Witch would use what she had learned. A weave and dart across the floor, a missed maneuver of the paw —
Spectre tensed, shooting Quiet a look towards Witch. Should we go and help?
Quiet blinked, signaling back in confusion. Help who, exactly?
You know who, Spectre urged. I know what Beast’s trying to do, but this is wrong…
Quiet felt his gut wrench as well just watching them. Beast’s attempts were accomplishing nothing but scaring Witch and knocking things over, gaining her own root-laden lashes in the process. Before he could think otherwise, Quiet marched over to the door and swung it aside, holding it open.
Witch didn’t hesitate. Intentional or not, she knew an opening when it was given. Chasing right after came Beast, making a deliberate motion to knock into her betrayer. Her sandpaper fur caught in sharp bristles against Quiet’s feathers, making him hiss as rivulets of blood trickled down his flank. But the kid was out for now; the solution, even if temporary, felt better than having the two of them running around in circles.
“Nnnghauugh.” Quiet growled as his fingers came into contact with the wound, stumbling back to the couch. “Alright, she’s out.” Nervously pointing to his side, Quiet gave Spectre an apologetic grin. “Uh, could I get a little help here?”
Witch could feel the patio parting in her wake, ignoring the splinters which shot through her hands. Just another nuisance she could deal with later; she wasn’t about to ruin her one last shot at freedom when it was so close she could taste it. The steps were little obstacle with a little bound, grateful that gravity was much less detriment on a creature her size. While her legs were small, her control on aerodynamics was better, cutting through the winds that whipped around her as she evaded the heavy footsteps below.
It didn’t matter if Beast ‘meant well;’ Witch was not staying in that fucking cabin. And if she had to outrun her to avoid going back, she would.
The invigorating scent of foliage and fresh earth hit her nose sharp this time. Ignoring the blood that tracked through the grass path, Witch dove and tumbled and maneuvered her way through the underbrush and briars and weeds, keeping her tail close enough to avoid being caught. She had remembered these chases well enough with the Echo on her tail, but venom would not save her now. Chimera blood was far too potent for any of her toxins to mean anything; if Beast caught her, her efforts were as good as ‘dead.’
Making her way down the hill had been easier than she’d expected. The aid of gravity had served the Fae’s journey well, and she soon hit the clearing as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Thorn, to be expected, was nowhere in sight; she’d be going this alone, and despite her determined escape, the thought of that terrified her. The very creature hot on her trail had been the reason they’d survived this long, and without another Fae out there to loan their magic —-
There’s others out there, Witch reminded herself. We weren’t the only ones, and there’s survivors from our own Warren. I just need to make it far enough to find them. If I can just make it a little further…
The rising dawn was going to make things dangerous. She needed to find a place to hide, and fast.
The hills and shrubs parted easily in her wake, bounding across the beaten path until she reached a clearing. Crouched there on all fours, she could see the approaching figure off in the distance, steadying herself to get a better look — and froze.
Golden hair cascaded from the rounded figure’s form. Adorned now with the hint of fur-dusted arms, Witch could tell exactly who it was. Her eyes were sharp enough to pick up the sight from those miles away: that Damsel — the Princess — was out roaming near. And if she could just get close enough to reach her —-
Something sharp had crunched down against the sides of her torso. Too gentle to have done more than sting, carefully lifting her off the ground… Her little game was over.
“NO!”
Witch howled as Beast scooped her up, carrying her sideways from her jaws. Claws, teeth, and useless daggers unleashed their inferno upon her mentor’s teeth, but Beast simply ignored her and plodded back on towards the cabin. “I’m not going back! I almost had her!”
Twisting and squirming, Witch could only whimper and watch as her one last change at freedom was cruelly snatched away — carried back away from her sister, her lover, her hope. Back towards prying eyes and ears that closed in on all sides, providing her no space to breathe…
Woooo SIX in one, across the three prompt lists I’m doing AND they’re all from the same days as each other??? Tbh I’m here for it. It certainly won’t happen again, and I already almost didn’t finish this one. Lighting really saved it.
For those wondering what’s going on:
Witch & Damsel are teenage lovers within the storyline of Borrowed Paths, but are met with the cruel reality that people harm others for the mere sake of it. Damsel is a Princess in a nearby kingdom who discovers her tiny Fae girlfriend entirely by chance, and the two of them bond over rebelling against the enforced safety of their worlds. However, when humanity is on the hunt for Fae, they unwittingly use Damsel as the key to wreak havoc. And while all is by mere chance, Witch can’t help but feel betrayed; that her lover was the key to the downfall of her world, and everyone in it.
Monochrome + Base referenced for pose under the cut (if anyone knows from where do lmk)
Wanna know any details about the little guys, the worldbuilding, the vibes etc? Feel free to slide over and tell me what you wanna know! (I may doodle a handful too if I’m inspired enough)
