telepathic caretaker removing whumpee's painful memories but not their pain. whumpee spends all their time grieving something they can't remember, angry at someone they can't name, and scared of everything they can't remember
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Lisl screamed. A pleading mewl came from her lips.
“Shhh,” she heard over her, “breathe...breathe...”
Fingers brushed her temple. Lisl shrank from their touch.
“Help! Someone help--” she gasped, trying to shout but her words came in whispers.
“No, no, don’t be afraid,” the low voice soothed, “I’m not here to harm you.”
She became aware of a heaviness in her chest. Whimpering, she breathed in small gasps, but the heaviness only weighed her down further. Her heart raced.
“What’s happening--nngh--who are you?”
“It doesn't matter. Not now,” the stranger murmured.
“I can’t open my eyes,” she said, panic mounting in her throat.
“The mountain is dying. It longs to feed. You must leave this dream before Uhyga draws you deeper.”
A dream? In her grandmother’s stories, dreams never ended well for the dreamer.
“How?”
“Return to the elm.”
“I never left,” Lisl said.
“In your mind.”
A roughened touch brushed her forehead and shapes broke through the darkness. Lisl reached for them, forcing herself to think of the forest. Her imagination moved languidly. Stooped trees covered in vines, roots far too big for the gangly trees they grew from.
“This isn’t right,” she said, looking about frantically. "It's twisted."
“Find the elm.”
Lisl sprinted through the decaying forest. She kept reaching for her memory of the tree, and at last she found it. Coming round the back of its trunk, she stopped short, horrified.
She saw herself lying against the elm roots. Her eyes closed and a twisted thorn branch across her chest. Crouched before her sleeping form was a twisted, hulking man. Every breath he took made him lurch forward.
She could not see his face for his body was covered in hardened, brackish substances. Two gnarled roots sprang from his neck, reaching down and clawing into the length of his back. Dead flowers hung in his black mane and bits of decayed leaves fell from his limbs with every movement.
Terror rooted Lisl in place. She had neither the courage to chase him away or the strength to flee. She could only stare as the creature leaned closer to her sleeping body, until his face was mere inches from hers.
The sight filled her with fear, and her sleeping form grew more agitated.
“What are you?” she saw herself whimper.
He leaned closer still.
"der Berggeist."
His voice sounded directly in her ear.
With a scream, Lisl turned away.
Remember me...
Her eyes snapped open.
She lay against the elm roots again. The monstrous being had vanished. Fighting the urge to weep for relief, Lisl slowly glanced around one side of the tree, then the other.
The creature was nowhere to be seen. The forest she knew had returned.
Springing from the tree, Lisl ran back the way she had come. She didn’t dare look back for fear that monster might still be behind her somehow.
Breaking from the forest’s edge, Lisl ran towards her home. She nearly bumped into a few villagers, but didn’t stop. Not until she was safely home.
During dinner, she received a heavy scolding from Kurt, who was very disoriented to find Lisl gone and Agathe conversing amiably with Jorgensen instead. He blamed her for the excuses he had to create to keep the situation from becoming embarrassing for all parties.
"Why did you leave?" he asked, "You were supposed to acquaint yourself with Jorgensen."
Acquaint herself? She'd known the boy all his life. Played with him when they were children. Why did it feel so different now? It didn't feel different. It felt forced. Because Magnus was gone. She hated it.
"You were speaking with the priest," she mumbled, bowing her head, "And I had work to do at home."
"Agathe says she saw you disappear into the forest."
Lisl bit her lip. Of course she had.
"I needed to clear my head--"
Kurt sighed angrily. "Clear your head? Again? How many times must we hear that before you admit you refuse to act your age."
"Kurt," Alma said.
"We have done so much to care for you, Lisl," her father continued harshly, fatigue behind his frustrated eyes, "One day we'll be gone, and who will look after you then? You can't keep making excuses to avoid growing up."
"Kurt, she understands," Alma intervened. "She'll do better. Did Father say when the ceremony will take place?"
Kurt gave a final firm glance at Lisl before turning back to his wife.
"In a fortnight's time," he said, "By then, the trees should yield enough to provide a dowry."
"Oh happy day," Alma sighed gratefully, "Imagine, darling, you're going to be a bride."
Ecstatic, her mother launched into plans for the wedding smock and decided she would sew the wedding garlands herself since the late spring had yielded so few flowers. Kurt relaxed soon enough. He even permitted himself a half-smile as he listened to his wife. No doubt he was recalling their own wedding years ago.
Swallowing her hurt, Lisl tried to listen to what was being said. Her future, her immediate future was being decided around her. As she forced herself to nod and agree with her mother's plans, a cold presence overshadowed her.
She tensed at once, feeling as though his breath lay upon her neck. The memory of the terrifying creature in the woods came back to her. The monstrous form bent over her own.
Der Berggeist.
It took everything she had to remain at her seat until dinner ended. That night, she curled up in her loft, exhausted but terrified of sleep. But she couldn't fight the exhaustion forever.
When at last she closed her eyes, a dreamless sleep overtook her.
The next morning, Alma told her Kurt had already gone for the woods.
"He must cut enough to sell in Schullen," she said, "Perhaps we may have enough for a new [dress]."
"When does the cart leave for Schullen?" Lisl asked.
"In two days hence. Oh, and the butter must be ready by now. Portion it for the market, will you? And keep them even."
Lisl nodded, and opened the churning barrel. "Are you disappointed in me?" she asked after a silence.
Alma glanced down, "…why do you ask that, Lisl? You will be wed soon. With a home of your own. Why would I be disappointed?"
"Am I not too old for marriage--?"
"Not yet," Alma interrupted quickly. "Don't talk that way. The Jorgensens have agreed to your hand. Only a greater dowry--"
"Greater?" Lisl's head raised at once, "Why?"
A dowry--or sum of useful gifts or wealth--had never been mentioned before. She knew sometimes they were required to entice the groom's family to accept the bride, but...why did she need a greater one?
A sinking feeling twisted her gut, "...I am too old for marriage."
"Hardly, child," Alma cooed, not meeeting her eyes. "The harsh winter is making us all...well, never mind that."
Then let me wait!, Lisl wanted to scream. Why all this hurry!
Because the winter will not end.
Lisl's breath fled her lungs. That voice--the same from the forest. It hadn't--was she dreaming again? She glanced behind her, but only barrels and kindling stood in the corner. Besides, the voice hadn't sounded in the room, it sounded...in her mind?
Her consternation broke only when she felt the blast of winter wind ripple inside from the open door.
"Mother, where are you going?"
Tucking her shawl closer, Alma sighed, "...I told you, Lisl. I must get acquainted with Helga Jorgensen. We will soon share the joy of grandchildren, after all."
Her mother tried to sound cheery, but Lisl wasn't a child. She could hear it in the woman's voice, how weary she was. Ashamed, Lisl dropped her gaze. She had daydreamed again, hadn't she? "I'm sorry."
"Finish the butter, dear." And the door shut.
Silence reigned in the lonely home. Chipping away at the butter in the barrel, Lisl moulded it into little logs. Yellow fat smeared on her palms by the time she had made three. The fourth log slipped out and tumbled back into the barrel.
She left it there and sat in the dark.
Why had her mother going alone to the Jorgensens? Helga must have heard about Lisl's early departure the other day.
If her mother felt weary of her dreams, Helga would be worse, she knew. Ernst was kind but everyone was always kind. She didn't want kind, she wanted--Gods, she didn't know.
It didn't matter, anyway. In two weeks, nothing would matter but her new life.
The fire in the hearth poked at her thoughts with its crackling. She poked it back with a meathook to stoke the embers.
They didn't have enough kindling to spare during the day. Which was why Breshka remained with Lisl's aunt, Eilweiss, more often than not. Though Alma's sister, Eilweiss had a better tolerance for the elder woman's eclectic ways. Furthermore, her marriage to Gernt's blacksmith ensured better kindling in their home, at least from the smithing forge itself.
Lisl shut her eyes, blocking out the world. It was too much. All of it. And this damning cold made everything worse. She missed those yule days of old, when the spring came early to the mountain slopes, when she and Magnus would make snowfolk faster than the sun could melt them. How they would follow the rivers of melting ice down the mountainside to Lechtung creek.
"I hate this," Lisl whispered, afraid to let the mountain hear, "I hate this...so much..."
What do you wish for instead?
Her eyes snapped open. The dark room seemed...off. As she sat there, something shifted just beyond her sight. Snatching the firepoker, she thrashed at the coals. Sparks hissed into life, throwing lurid light against the floor.
And at her feet, Lisl saw vines. Black ones, gnarled and writhing. The air fled her lungs. She could barely muster strength to pull her feet just out of reach.
"What's happening?" she gasped.
Let me listen
"Take them away," she begged. "Please, what--What do you want from me?"
The vines slackened.
Fräulein...
They came undone.
Lisl...
The door shunted open. The vines vanished in the cold, blinding light that poured in.
"Ah--Lisl," Kurt grunted, stepping within. He dropped his ax by the door. "Where is your mother?"
Heart pounding, she didn't dare move, "M-ma...making a peace offering to Ernst's mother."
He grimaced, "How long has it been?"
"Since midday."
"That seems right," he sighed. "They are a stubborn lot."
"And you still want them in our family?" she asked, looking at him from beneath her lashes.
"Lisl. After your behavior, would they want us in theirs?"
She frowned, but kept quiet. He hadn't spoken harshly, but with a tired disappointment. Which cut her deeper. Clutching the wool tighter, she couldn't keep one thought from slipping out, "Why now?"
"Eh?"
"Why now, Papa?"
"Because we've forestalled long enough. And we cannot wait for spring anymore."
So she was too much to care for now? Was that what they didn't want to admit?
"Is the harsh winter why the Jorgensens demand a greater dowry?"
Silence filled the home. Kurt rapped his knuckles on the wooden arm of his chair.
"You shouldn't concern yourself with it."
"You want me to marry and manage my household, Papa. How can I do that when you didn't tell me that Jorgensen "
Kurt pushed himself from his chair, "The burdens of fear are not yours to carry, Lisl."
"Mother carries them with you. You know she does. Stop hiding them from me."
He didn't meet her eyes, staring coldly out the single window. Lisl stood up as well. He'd listen to her. She knew he would. Breshka was not here and Alma would trust his decision.
"What it is you're saying, Lisl?"
She didn't know. She thought of Breshka's suggestion that she marry Wilhem. Maybe the Gotts would not require such a large dowry? But she couldn't ask that of her father. She would have to determine that herself.
"I want to go with you," she said at last. "To Schullen."
~*~*~*~*~
TAGS: @sorrowful-hyacinth, @melpomenelamusa, @catgirllivvy
This isn't a particularly whumpy post, but this is what this question made me think of:
telepathy, but make it more abstract
Telepathy, but make it abstract. Make it overwhelming. Make other people's thoughts so foreign to the telepath's brain that everything is incomprehensible.
The way I see it, we all have vastly different ways of thinking, and speaking out loud is the filter through which it becomes halfway intelligible to other people. Maybe you think in images, but another person has aphantasia and can't imagine images at all. Or the person whose thoughts you're hearing is neurodivergent and notices things that you have never even thought about, like the noise that the light bulbs are making.
We are all sentenced to solitary confinement in our own bodies for life. Now imagine trying to understand another person's lived experience when you're thrust into it without any warning.
Lisl, a maiden in yee fairytale times, is about to be married off to the village goatherd. Her hesitance to grow up becomes all the more complicated when she begins to hear a voice from the mountain, warning her that if she doesn't help him appease the mountain goddess, her village will wither away. As the trees rot from within and the cornstalks twist into hideous creatures, Lisl realizes she can't keep the mountain's guardian waiting forever...
(TLDR: fairytale whumpee/whump, nonhuman caretaker, nonhuman whumper. Lots of psychological stuff, bloodletting, telepathic whump. Sibling abuse. Coming-of-age. Trauma Bonding turned Healthy Love.)
Part One - Lisl learns she is to be wed. Why doesn't she feel happy?
Part Two - Breshka disapproves her granddaughter's suitor. Lisl senses a presence as she drifts to sleep.
Part Three - Lisl meets her groom-to-be. She escapes to the forest to be alone.
Part Four - Lisl escapes the dream but worse troubles await her at home.
Part Five - The Journey to Schullen reveals more than Lisl is willing to see.
Piccrew:
