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a walk in the woods

Proserpine put down the shovel. She was not physically tired and she did not sweat but she needed a break from this. She needed a cigarette. There was a downed tree nearby, a member of the Whispering Forest that had decided to take a nap apparently, making a fine place to sit. The forest did not speak to her, either out of respect or inability, which was unfortunate because she could use a compliment or two right about now. She was speckled with blood, streaks of it on her bare arms, patches of it soaking her dress even inkier black, even bits of viscera in her garishly neon hair. She had smeared her makeup in her efforts, and though she could right it with a fraction of a thought she was too irritated to bother.

She tripped on her way to the tree, catching herself before she fell to the forest floor and cursing in a dead language. The offending object was a foot, still attached to a significant length of ankle, broken bone protruding beyond the ragged flesh. It was partially lodged in the arch of her boot, and she had to totter on one leg in order to remove it. Plenty of skin still stuck in the treads, but that could wait. She tossed the bit of limb back towards the rest of the pile, and settled on the tree. A former Night Vale resident, she instantly knew, touching its bark gently. It was the old lady who was always sitting in the window of the laundromat, watching the traffic and muttering to herself. She was much happier here, it gave Proserpine a small comfort to know. She took a cigarette from the pack, tucked it into her glossed lips and lit it with the tip of her finger. The nicotine had no chemical effect on her body, her bloodstream that swam with inhuman blood, with ethereal matter, but the psychological pleasantry of exhaling it slowly through her nose was worth it. Just the one puff made her the slightest bit calmer.

But not so calm that she didn't still have a bone to pick, so to speak. She tilted her head, although it took no effort at all to communicate with the other-- she needn't even speak aloud. But she did, because to do so made her feel better. She had too much vitriol inside her to not speak.

"I'm getting very... t ired of cl eaning up your messes, not-brother."

She could hear Praxis laughing as though from far back in her skull. "you make messes sometimes too. SISTER."

"I do. But not for a whil e. And you are not u sually very helpful."

She felt his grin, creeping, madly and warmly willful, uncontrolled. It would be a crime to control such a thing. That was how Praxis lived, how he executed his every action: it would be a crime for me to not. A crime against himself, and a crime against the world, to deprive it. It wasn't as if she didn't agree, deep down, but somebody had to pretend to have some reason.

"You have been making m ore since we have come to Night Val e."

"and Desert Bluffs," he reminded her. "i like Desert Bluffs."

"Then why don't you murder ther e?" She sneered a little, picking the skin from the treads of her boot, because she knew he hated it when he didn't have her full attention. "It's much less frowned upon. M aybe we coul d..."

She cocked her head, pulled a string of flesh out with her fingernails and held it up in faux-examination so she could think for a moment. It wasn't as though Praxis couldn't know her thoughts if he tried hard enough-- they were the same, they were one after all. But they had long ago decided to keep their thoughts separate, because they worked so much better this way, as two. It was better, for the sake of the world. When they were always one they had been a fearsome thing.

She let the skin splat to the ground. "We c o uld... divide them. You could have Deser t Bluffs and I could have Night Vale. A nd you could handle your own messes."

She felt him sitting up at attention, as though closer to the forefront of her mind. Bright. Crackling. "oh but i LIKE Night Vale! i like the color of the sky and i like the arbys and i like the feral dogs and do you know what Desert Bluffs does not have?"

Proserpine could think of a lot of things, but she didn't bother to mention them, instead taking a lengthy drag on her cigarette. She held her breath, feeling him bounce around in her mind, in their mind, growing more frenetic and his edges beginning to blur. Then she exhaled slowly. "W hat?"

"CECIL. BALDWIN." The words burned, deep and electric violet, curling off Praxis's dexterous lips, himself glowing so bright he seemed seconds from brilliant, beautiful, world-ending destruction. She could feel his delight, barely contained, like trembling fingers reaching for a throat.

"Desert Bluff s has Kevin Free. Y ou like him."

"I DO i find him very entertaining. but hes no Cecil Baldwin, there is only one Cecil hes special SISTER. i have to be here in Night Vale because OH I HAVE SUCH PLANS FOR HIM."

She sighed. "What do you i ntend to do with him?"

Praxis's laugh, in every corner of her. "well FUCK HIM of course!"

"Of course." That much was a given. She had smoked the cigarette down to the filter, and she almost stubbed it out on the tree trunk before she remembered the old woman from the window of the laundromat, and was about to drop it to the forest floor but what would the Whispering Forest feel if she did that? Would it speak to her then, would it do more than whisper, if she pressed her embers into what might well be its flesh? That was what they liked about Night Vale, it had such strange things and not all of them where knowable to the angels. She held the smoldering cigarette butt aloft, unsure of what to do with it, glancing around herself for a moment before finally laying it on her tongue and swallowing it. As good an option as any. She swallowed again, moistening her tongue, stitching the burned cells back together. Clicked her mouth once dryly and continued. "Of cours e you will. But how will you go about it? Will you r omance him and steal his heart, onl y to leave him and make him pine away until he' s nothing but pretty bones? Will you seduce him, will you m ake him want to fuck until his heart bursts? Or will you use the more... c reati ve m e tho ds?"

"mmmmmmmm." Though they couldn't touch, physically, they could never be one next to the other, they were only one, she felt him, sidling up next to her skin, purring his growl in her ear so the little hairs stood up with his warm breath, nothing could make skin alive like Praxis could, Praxis was all the gods of lust and destruction and consuming hungry fires in one. Really, he was. He was a god in many places. And he felt good against her, because Proserpine was cold wars and dry bones and fierce rending logic. "we havent used the fun ways in a long time. why do we never possess anymore? those were good times." He grinned against her, in his sly lover's way, his fond little brother way. "YOU could play too, you know."

Proserpine smiled despite herself, as small and contained of a begrudging smile as she could manage. She did not like to encourage him, but the idea was extremely tempting, as was the feeling of him sliding around, both against her skin and inside it. Of them taking turns and working their specific gifts, their angelic skill sets. Blessings, blessings on that delicious little radio host, human he wasn't and mortal he perhaps wasn't either but susceptible he definitely would be to their holy will. She shrugged, in affected nonchalance. "I suppose. It ha s been a while, and my possession s have always been much more effective, much more f ru it f ul than yours."

He cackled, snorted like a mad stallion.

"You're reall y willing to share hi m with me t hough?"

"what dont i share with you, dear SISTER?" He curled warmly around the base of her spine, but snickered. "though perhaps i could offer you Kevin Free?"

"Perh ap s..." She hopped to her feet, a gentle thud on the moss with her heavy boots, and walked back to the pile of freshly hacked and rent flesh. It was a fine work, she had to give him that. Praxis knew his business. She picked up the shovel. "Perhaps you coul d take the lead on Cecil and I... I w ill take the lead on Ke vi n F r ee?"

Purring, trembling laughter echoed inside her, rattling her ribcage. She could feel his delight, his pleasure tingling down to the tips of her fingers, through every vein and out every pore of her body, spreading down like honey. "oh, EXCELLENT. really, i havent seen that spirit in you in a long time, sister. this is truly a special place."

She dug the shovel into the pile, slicing through the resistance of meat and, without strain, without effort in her immortal limbs, drew up a heap of organs and severed extremities and tossed it into the hole she'd dug. "It r eally i s."

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