I wanted to d a comic for Primrose, Jackie, and Keyson but that clearly wasn't happening, so it'll just be text.
If you wish to read these or any future ones, they will be under Read More blocks as they have a very real chance to be long (oops?)
With that said:
Still nothing.
A lone slime shuffles through the field under a starry night sky. Too far from home to wish to make the trek back, and so she settles upon just looking for somewhere to rest till the morning. Anywhere would do, so long as it was shelter, she thought to herself. She grumbles to herself, cursing the hero's name as she’s gotten into the habit of doing so. It’s been a year since said hero caused everything she knew to be turned on its head, disbanding the group she was part of rather forcibly by slaughtering their leader. Left adrift, trying to reestablish contact with the figures above. They never answered anymore.
The slime spots a farmstead in the distance. It’ll work.
She looks towards the farmstead’s house, the lights dark within and no signs of activity within. Sleeping, unsurprisingly. Instead of the house, she turns and makes her way to the barn. Easier to slip into for the night and be gone without anyone but the animals noticing. It’s not breaking and entering if it’s just for a nap overnight. She cracks the door enough that the broken mask hanging on her belt can fit through the gap, and squeezes herself inside before closing the door again with a gentle thunk. It’s dark, but her eyesight is decent enough to make out the bales of hay on the ground, and pens in the back with sleeping animals. The hay will do. Sitting herself down on a pile of hay, she throws herself back, staring up at the roof of the barn until eventually… she shuts her eyes waiting for tomorrow.
Morning comes a lot more abruptly than the slime anticipated, the hood of her robes being pulled upwards by a less than impressed farmer. Snapping awake, she pulls herself away with a star-bound hand, staring back at the farmer.
“Causing trouble again, are we?”
“You are mistaken sir. I simply came here to rest.”
“That’s what all you cult members say.”
She glares at the farmer with enough intensity it could slice him in half, when her attention shifts to the barn doors. Another figure stood behind them, mostly obscured other than their head and a pointed ear. Were they there before? From what little can be seen they look to be injured in some form, as bandages are wrapped around their face on one side.
“I’m not fond of being awoken by something other than the birds, missy, and your stunt bothered everyone else in here. Snakes shouldn’t be tryin’ to take a roosters role y’know”
They must’ve been in the barn too. How did she miss them? Stupid, stupid. The slime tries to relax as much as she can.
“Well, since it’s morning, you won’t have to deal with it. I’ll head on my way, you can tend your farm or whatever, and we forget about this.”
The farmer simply stares Keyson head to toe, before finally letting go of her robe. He points to the doors.
“Take her with you.” The farmer’s tone is cold, as he points to the figure at the door.
“WHAT?” Both the slime and the cowering figure exclaim in unison.
“You heard me. You and your cult caused everyone enough problems. It’s about time you started reaping the consequences of your actions.”
Well this day has already gone from bad to worse. Staring down the farmer, and then the figure at the door, the slime snorts, and heads for the door.
“May the stars fall on your head.”
The figure that was hiding behind the door recoils as she comes outside. Seeing them in full, the slime understands more how they could’ve been missed in the darkness of the barn. A lamia, darkly coloured from hair to tail and covered in worn bandage wraps. The only articles of clothing being a worn out cloak and various cuffs. They don’t look like any you’d see on a farm however, so how or why she bore them was a mystery. The look on her face was one of fear, their one exposed eye darting between the slime she’d just been handed off to, and the farmer who is casting her away the moment he can. Neither of them like this arrangement that's been forced upon them. The slime groans with a sigh, and starts making her way back to town, motioning for the lamia to follow. She’s hesitant, but follows after the farmer pushes her in that direction, almost pressing into her back, she follows behind the former cult member.
What a bout of bad luck, the lamia thought to herself. She’s being recaptured.
