Fantasy ♡ need you like a heartbeat. (starboob & ellarose.)

[ellarose]

The wind's in Juliet's hair, the snow's melting but the morning air is still nips at her skin, reminding her that she's leaving. Indeed she's left many times before and sometimes not come back for months. But this time she is truly leaving. (And leaving yet another story for the people of Cornelia street to gossip about-- like her tragic death, her return from the wood, the scandalous painting and that disastrous engagement party. 'And she would've made such a lovely bride.') Juliet doesn't look back once, fixing her brown-eyed gaze frontward on the ride to the cottage. As they fly, the branches of the trees beneath them shudder-- their bare branches growing autumn leaves of fiery reds and oranges. It's as though Juliet's heart is setting the wood ablaze beneath her. Later she will face the consequences for daring to feel, to speak her mind. (She always does.) What's done is done... and for what it's worth, she does not regret her choice. It needed to be said.

Juliet will not be locked up in that house again, reducing to no more than a hollowed shell in a bed. She saw the signs and knew it was time to run. She had to while she still could. For she has vowed that no one will tie her down like that again. No one.

There is no regret but it would be a lie to say Juliet is not restless. She stiffens for a moment at Willow's touch behind her before easing into it. Stay present. Eyes forward. The noise in her mind is so loud that she's not sure she even comprehends her suggestion-- she simply agrees to it, trusting Willow will know what is best after following her lead without reprimanding her for leaving , and that is that. 'You should be most grateful to the August family for taking you in off the streets and improving your station in society.' They all told her this, as if she didn't feel grateful every time she had a warm meal or got to sleep in her bed. Evidently, she was meant to prove herself by doing more than showing gratitude and saying thank you. (But she never asked for anything. Never asked for that life.) 'You should be grateful that they've secured you a proper match when your reputation is so...'

The present smashes into Juliet like a fist to her gut when she sees the cottage ablaze. She feels ill. (The witch would have cleared the smoke, had she started a fire herself.) Millicent. Alarm pulses in her amongst everything else, the inside of her mind a mess she doesn't know how to cope with. She still recalls the series of crimes in Amoria, where homes of rumored witches (predictably, harmless spinsters who owned cats) were burned to the ground. Juliet still remember's mother's panic at the time, making sure she behaved properly for fear that their home might be next. Queen Viviane handled that matter respectably, having been swift in ordering an investigation that managed to apprehend the criminal within a fortnight. (Despite her flaws, she does take her vow to protect the people of her kingdom seriously-- and it takes a bold person to commit such crimes in Amoria. Ever since the King's assassination she made herself a formidable force to all those who might challenge her.) She also helped those who managed to survive the fires, offering them rooms in the castle until they were provided new housing. Princess Elise had said she rather liked having them around-- that she would sneak off to have 'the most enlightening' conversations with them.

Unfortunately, Queen Vivane's influence does not put a stop to all crime. Especially not those that occur behind closed doors.

...Wait. She does not smell smoke, nor does she see any flames. Is this... another hallucination? While she is concerned about this, it becomes evident that Lucky has noticed it as well. Given the immediate liking Millie and Lucky have taken to each other, she knows to some extent that the dragon would have rushed in to help had they sensed the witch in any danger. As they make their way inside, the sound of the piano eases some of her panic... but the sound of the keys smashing only worsens the incessant clamoring in her head.

Indeed, Sawyer and Millicent have traded places. Juliet knew this already, but the sight is still... bewildering, to say the least. And the bewilderment doesn't cease when Sawyer stands and announces that she and the witch of the wood have traded their heights. (Wh... What...? How?) It is fair to say that the archer is at just as much of a loss as the sorceress is-- if not more so. Especially when the wolf proceeds to ask her question. Is she... is she sexy? Her cheeks burn faintly at her candidness.

(The thought of Millicent being Sawyer's height-- which was indeed taller than Juliet-- is also one she cares not to imagine. How did this happen?)

"I... think I am still hallucinating." Juliet admits, openly unnerved now that she's at her limit for the day. "Excuse me." Deciding she would rather do anything other than engage in this conversation, she hastily whisks herself across the cottage to gather arrows and supplies into her bag, mindful not to step on any shadows for fear that they might grab her ankles and drag her any deeper into this nightmare. (Specifically, she searches the shelves for the potion that Millie would have her drink whenever her nightmares were particularly bad. Given the witch's disorganization and absence, though, she begins to sense that her search will take a while. Either way, it's an excuse to keep herself busy and her attention elsewhere, where she does not have to think about this universe she's in where Sawyer is short and Millicent is tall.) At least this gives her assurance that they contacted each other recently. Millie has never left her cottage like this before. She's powerful there, but outside-- in the world? She is not sure whether to be worried for Millicent or for the world itself.

"So sexy I have been mistaken for a hallucination. I see, I see." Sawyer muses, taking no apparent offense as she makes a note of this. "I suppose that's the reason why the people have such a hard time accepting our sexiness. We're too sexy to be real." She pounds on the piano keys again for dramatic effect and nods, serious and focused. "Quite dastardly indeed."

The wolf springs up unexpectedly, then, rushing over to a nearby shelf. She laughs delightedly as she has to climb up on the shelf to reach one of the bottles there (before, she would have been able to reach it with ease and Juliet does not understand how she sees this as something to be so joyous about). Sawyer waves one with honey-gold liquid back and forth. "You're looking for thissss, right?" Juliet nods a bit stiffly, accepting the bottle when she hands it to her. Then Sawyer steeples her fingers. "Sssso? What did you ssssee?"

Juliet clutches the bottle in her hand, staring carefully at the wolf. Sawyer is extending her s's, as if to hiss and sound like a snake. Does she know? (...Probably. While she has heard of Sawyer's prophetic abilities, it is another thing entirely to see evidence of those abilities.) The archer pulls the cork out of the bottle, downing about half of it in one swallow. It burns down her throat. The pounding in her head softens to a vague knocking.

"You already know, do you not?" Juliet replies matter-of-factly as she lowers the bottle from her lips. She presses her arm to them briefly, cringing from the bitterness of it.

"Assssstute obsssservation!" Sawyer grins. She turns to Willow, then. "Can you guesssss, Wilfred? Or shall we play a game of charades?" She proceeds to get on the ground, pressing her arms flat against her sides to make her body appear as snake-like as possible. She wiggles. Juliet resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. (She is not incredibly comfortable with this topic of conversation... though she supposes there is no hiding it after the morning they've had.)

"If only I could slither." Sawyer sighs wistfully. As she says this, it does seem as though her body is starting to move in an unusual manner. Juliet is nearly horrified, thinking that this truly would be a nightmare if she truly did start slithering. But then she realizes that the movement she's seeing are Sawyer's legs gradually growing back to their original length. The wolf scowls and curses at this development, kicking her legs in the air as she assesses how long they are. "Mothballs!" She collapses flat, apparently needing a moment to cope with this, before tilting her head towards Willow. "...She saw a snake. What are your thoughts, Wilfred?"

 

[starboob]

Willow does not like this one bit. Nope, nope, nope. It’s already been a long morning and short Sawyer is making her wish that it were bedtime already. And while she can appreciate this as Sawyer’s way of breaking up the obvious leftover tension from their escape—Willow still has not fully processed the scene that they (Lucky, mostly) caused—she sometimes wishes that her friend had more tact.

The sorceress pinches her brow as she watches short Sawyer scamper up the shelves to retrieve the item Juliet had been looking for—a potion, as it would turn out. She’s about to ask it’s purpose, but becomes understandably distracted when the wolf tries to impersonate a snake. Willow could have made the guess without the game, thanks to those elongated s’s, but there is no stopping Sawyer once she has an idea. (It’s why she often describes herself as fatherly, because everyone knows you cannot stop a father with a plan.) She shoots Juliet an apologetic glance and mouths, ‘sorry,’ while the weirdo laments over full-length legs. (She does not want to think about what’s happening in Evermore with Milfred’s legs likely shrinking down. Unfortunately, her brain is a traitor and that haunting image is forever seared in her mind.)

She blinks a few times, trying to shake off all the weirdness that has just transpired as well as the vision of a disproportionate Milfred. “I’m not sure. I don’t know the nature of Juliet’s hallucinations.” Ugh, she doesn’t like talking about Juliet as if she’s not right here; she has had enough of that already having had to plead her case back at the August household. “In dreamwork snakes are symbols—”

“Gee, Willikers.” Sawyer tilts her head, stuffing her hands under her armpits. Her body convulses violently and one arm elongates, followed by the other. Despite her visible disappointment, she stays on subject. “It’s not that deep. Think of your long list of Starbucks lovers!”

“My what? I don’t like Starbucks.”

“Your ‘garbage business’ ex. The mafia princess.”

Willow blinks dumbly, mouth hanging slightly agape as the pieces fall together. “She’s part of—” No, she won’t get into that. That is not what they are talking about and what does it matter what crimes Sabrina is or isn’t involved with? It doesn’t. The sorceress turns to Juliet. “You saw Sabrina?” She almost asks Juliet whether it was really her or not, but thinks better of it, knowing that she doesn’t actually know the ‘mafia princess' and she might not be able to discern that. However, Sawyer always seems to be the most knowledgeable person in the room so she turns back to her. “Is Sabrina actually meddling?”

“Not yet,” Sawyer sighs, rolling herself into an upright position now that she's back to her full height. “Just as the gods are meddling with my height!”

“Sawyer,” Willow sets her hands on her hips, frowning. “I need serious Sawyer.”

The weirdo looks almost offended by this request, but rises from her seat on the floor and, nevertheless, puts on her most austere expression. “Apologies, I hadn’t considered how taxing this morning must have been for you both.” She snaps her fingers and a little bell appears in her hand. She rings it; then, from the the kitchen, Tiger Lily Billy walks in (on two legs) with a serving tray that has two glasses of orange juice. He sets the tray down in front of Juliet and picks up a glass; he doesn’t so much as offer it to her as he does place it directly into her hand. He does the same with Willow (this is never not unnerving and she shoots Juliet another apologetic glance). “Some juice for your troubles. Tiger Lily Billy has also prepared a most splendiferous pancake breakfast complete with eggies and bakie. Come, come, we’ll chat over food.”

Sawyer bows dramatically and motions them into the dining room, that is now half full of paperstacks. “I had my twin send over some of my documents. I cannot fall behind in my research, after all.” She explains as Tiger Lily Billy starts bringing in impossibly high stacks of pancakes—chocolate chip, blueberry, strawberry, banana, and more—eggs of every imaginable convention, and thick crispy slabs of bacon. He also sets out various syrups, sauces, creams, and butters. As Sawyer continues talking, the raccoon begins to fix everyone’s plate, smacking the hands of anyone who tries to serve themself or thief any of the food. “Anyway, no, that was not really Sabrina. I believe, Juliet, you may have some trace sight. You’re not a seer like myself, but what you saw is a glimpse into what is to come.” She nods, then quickly shakes her head when her companion tries to pour chocolate sauce over her eggs, misinterpreting the nod. “As you know already, Sabrina and Griffith both have abilities related to their eyes. And, as you also know, my twin has excellent insight into the ways of those magics. I had her look into the Sepulveda lineage since their gift seem to come from their matrilineal line. What? You didn’t know they were cousins, Willow? Their moms are sisters.”

To be fair to Willow, Sabrina was never forthcoming about her background and had a talent for dancing around questions. While Sabrina did hang out with the Charming Street kids in high school, even the underclassmen, Willow doesn’t recall her and Griffith ever appearing particularly close.

“Anyway, they can only hold power over those they have made eye contact with. You, Juliet, were spared during your fight with the chimera and the Temple of Fearless blocks magic cast with ill-intent. However,” she looks to Willow, who is struggling to keep Tiger Lily Billy from adding a sixth pancake to her stack (she only asked for two), “You, Willow, were caught during the chimera fight. Worse, she caught your spirit.” Willow pauses and looks up, alarmed. Tiger Lily Billy continues to add to Willow’s plate until he hits two dozen. “She can’t get into your mind, rest assured. Those mind and memory courses paid off, but she will eventually figure out about your thread and how to jump into Juliet’s mind. I understand you have crafted talismans?”

Willow nods and summons the cauldron without prompting. Sawyer takes the cauldron and gives it a good knock, listening intently to the echo. “Ah, good soup. A great soup! Yes, these should do when they’re ready. In the interim? Well, Juliet… I would hate for you to toasty toasty your noggin, as I have it on good authority Willow likes your noggin as much as she does your arms,” “Sawyer!” “So you are just going to have to deal with your condition. It seems to be particularly activated right now and you run the risk of it worsening in this tender state.” She says this with all the brightness of the sun, perhaps trying to lighten the news, but it only makes her seem excited about the prospect. “I cannot recreate my twin’s potion, she's much too good a soup caster and I prefer my guns. But!! But, but, but I have drafted some glyphs that ought to produce a similar effect. I will teach Willow while you rest. First, however, you both must eat! Growing heroines needs their brekkie." She sets her elbows on the table and props her chin in her hands, looking between the two women. "Any questions?”

 

[ellarose]

'Where did all of that food come from?' Juliet thinks of the question an hour after she excuses herself from the table. It comes with a sort of jostling in her chest, as if her soul had momentarily left her body and decided just now to begrudgingly return to her. Although she hardly touched her plate and the tornado roll from the apothecary was about all she could bear to stomach after the morning she had, she knows she will be hungry again. When that time comes, she will think of the sight of those pancakes stacked around her like the cake towers in Candy Land and wish she had tasted some. The sight was so unusual, in fact, that she wonders if she'd hallucinated the entirety of that pancake breakfast as well. She hadn't lied when she told Sawyer the sight of her at Millie's height only contributed to the feeling that nothing in this world is real.

...Nothing except Willow's green eyes. Her hand on her arm, her arms around her waist holding onto her. The fluttering in Juliet's chest does not exist-- nor do the shadows draped over the floor slabs of her room, which lurch and flicker in time with every beat of her heart. They twist and snap and grow thorns. They scratch violently at her feet, yearning to drag her under, and she curls her toes inward. The potion does so little now. She is... not okay. Squeezed into the corner, pressing her forehead to her kneecaps hard enough to put a dent in her skull. (Not real, not real.) She tries not to think of all their adversaries rubbing their hands together, preparing to slip into her mind like it's a pair of their favorite gloves. If Sabrina wishes to steal into her mind, Juliet knows she will have to fight Sefarina for it first. The woman is as possessive of her mind as she is of her heart.

'You cannot share yourself with anyone else. You're not even here.'

Juliet's not sure when she began the habit of pushing herself out. Pressing herself against sharp edges long enough to cut and being numb to the pain because she's been training herself to take it. It isn't right, she knows, but she doesn't know any other way. (She once relied on daydreams and stories as a girl... until all the daydreams took a turn and became nightmares as the realities of her own life crawled within that space that was once so pure and imaginative.) The wood was dangerous but filled with magic, beauty and wonder. Lara's life was romantic and interesting and she wanted nothing more than to be just like her... until that dream died screaming. Now she lacks the spark to think of anything interesting on her own. She cannot help but envy Willow for her stories. And crave them, too. Even now she wishes to ask for one, like a frightened little girl in the middle of the night who requires a bedtime story to sleep.

No. Juliet stubbornly tethers herself to her corner. She will not permit herself to rely on Willow or her charming stories. (It will weaken her when she is gone.) Instead her energy is spent building her walls higher-- so high that no one will dare to scale them again. (After...) She is not worth the effort. Anyone who dares to find her will be sorely disappointed with the sad pile of ashes they find in her place. (Just like...) And never again will she regain the strength to break them down herself, out of curiosity to see if this time it really is warmth waiting for her on the other side... or flames that will burn her love down to ashes again.

When loneliness is a choice it is easier to bear. Because at least it is a choice in a world that afforded Juliet so few of them.

Juliet is not comforted by it now, though. There is no peace in this room with the shadows encroaching, without even Grace there to keep her company. Millie is in Evermore. She is truly and utterly alone. She even severed ties from mother, from the August family and those who still would have claimed her as their own when no one else would. She has not even begun to process that. It will take time.

To be alone isn't necessarily what Juliet wants. But that's the cruel nature of reality. She knows from experience that she's been ruined for anyone else. It'd be unfair of her, asking anyone to help pick up her pieces when they're all so sharp. Hm... though she supposes that she isn't completely alone if she considers the shadows anything at all.

('If you have nothing to lose, what are you so afraid of? They should be afraid of you.')

Steeling herself, Juliet collects herself from the ground. She walks over the thorny shapes on the floor, daring them to cut her feet and prove themselves real. But they aren't, are they? So she watches, a gleam of satisfaction sparking in her brown eyes as they shrink away from her like insects scattering, afraid to get stepped on. (Unlike the snake bite, they don't hurt her all. Perhaps because she won't let them. Won't let anyone.) As Sawyer said, she is just going to have to deal with it. So she will get acquainted with the shadows and adapt to them. Just as she has adapted with her gift, which connects her to those who seek her out-- gives her some semblance of purpose in a world where nothing makes sense. She is not here for no reason. She has claimed a narrative of her own, one she has desperately scrawled with the blood from her own wounds. One where she fights to ensure no one is left endlessly bleeding like her. This road likely ends with her bloodless corpse in the grave... she knows that. She's at peace knowing that. Her body will be buried where her true self was left to die all those years ago. Only then will they be reunited.

Outside Juliet's window, the wood stirs.

***​

"Are you ready?" Juliet asks after they've laid out all their plans, marking a path on her map towards the Midnight Mountains. (The hagstone indicates one or two areas of magical significance on their route-- which they decide they may investigate only if they have the time and means to.) She washed her face with cold water, gave herself an hour, and reemerged to find Willow and Sawyer finishing the conversation they had while she was away-- she assumes about the glyphs, talismans and perhaps other Evermore affairs. (She hopes they hadn't spent all too much time discussing the pitiful state of her mind. She cannot imagine that Willow would so such a thing, but...) The archer hesitates, recalling the way that Willow always asks that question, and belatedly adds, "...edy?"

"Eddy? Is Eddy here?" Sawyer asks, her ears perking up at the thought. What? Juliet furrows her brow in confusion, glancing between the two of them. She had not been referring to a person, just... what? "Tsk. Now Wilfred, why didn't you tell me you brought your invisible friend Eddy here with you!? Tiger Lily Billy would've fixed him a plate." The raccoon grumbles frustratedly as if to confirm this, waving his tiny raccoon hands in the air. "You know how seriously he takes his role as a host."

Juliet massages her temples, trying to keep her mind from tying itself in knots.

"Are you ready?" Sawyer is looking at her carefully all of a sudden, in a way that twists under the archer's skin.

"Yes." Juliet lowers her arms and nods. "It makes me restless, staying still like this."

"Ah. You know what you should do, Juliet? You should take up dancing." Sawyer suggests, sidling towards her and moving her body in a way that Juliet is not sure could (or should) be considered dancing. (At the very least not in the traditional sense. It would give all of her ballet instructors a headache.) The wolf punches her arms downwards and kicks her cowboy boots up erratically, toddling from side to side. "Like this. Dance with me, Juliet!"

"That is not exactly what I..." Juliet blushes, embarrassed when Sawyer moves close enough to brush against her while she 'dances'. The archer instinctively catches the wolf nonetheless when she suddenly leans far enough that she nearly falls to the ground. She stares down reluctantly at her, unsure of what to do when Sawyer simply lets herself dangle there without standing up.

"Okay, I can't lie. I did that on purpose. For research purposes. And I've confirmed once more that you do have nice arms, just as Wilfred says."

Juliet is seriously tempted to drop her. Instead, she helps the wolf back up onto her feet with a sigh. (Why does she keep discussing her arms, anyhow? They are not particularly 'nice'. They are scarred, enough that mother insisted she wear long gloves to keep them covered... enough to teach her to be ashamed of them.)

Sawyer winks at Willow, rolling her hips in a circle. Then she ceases to move, crossing her arms and nodding sagely. "Don't be jealous. I see lots of midnight dancing in your future."

"...Shall we depart now?" Juliet suggests (or rather pleads) staring at Willow and Lucky like a cat cornered by an overeager dog.

 

[starboob]

Willow notes that Juliet barely eats at breakfast and is thusly surprised to hear that she’s ready to make plans to leave so soon after her short respite. Then again, this isn’t all that surprising. This is Juliet being Juliet. While she’d have rather stayed the day, to give Juliet some proper rest, she also understands the need to get to the Midnight Mountains as quickly as possible. She also understands that Sawyer has been an overwhelming presence and that she might benefit from some distance.

After a long goodbye—because Sawyer keeps finding excuses for them to stay (such as telling them her favorite snail facts)—they exit the cottage. Willow, of course, gives Sawyer one of her signature goodbye hugs and, on a whim, kisses her cheek. It causes the psychic's cheeks to redden and the sorceress only grins without explaining. Not because she's being coy, but because it's just a gesture she reserves for her top-tier friends and Sawyer has proven worthy of that tier. The psychic will figure it out eventually.

They’re only steps from the cottage before Sawyer comes rushing out again, hollering that she’s forgotten something. Just as Willow turns to inform her that they really must be going, she notices Sawyer clutching her dad’s color-block hiking backpack and stops midway. “Soy—h-how did you—?”

“Milfred. We couldn’t get Grace over, but we managed this. Nearly forgot about it thanks to your distractions, Jameson.” She grins her toothy grin and hands Willow her bag. Then she leans forward and confesses, “You’re going to need to restock on chocolate chips, flour, eggs, bacon… Pretty much anything we had at breakfast. Oh, and your breakfast bars. Those are all gone, too. I did place today’s breakfast leftovers in the refrigerator section of your pack.” She dips her chin, tips her invisible cowboy hat, and whirls around. Then she adds from over her shoulder, "Oh, and remember: red is not your color. Toodles!"

The sorceress shakes her head as she watches the weirdo wizard disappear back into the cottage, then slings the backpack over her shoulder and turns back around to face the road ahead. Lucky flies above them, keeping their pace and likely watching for any danger that could come at them. Willow keeps to her thoughts, not meaning to be so quiet but her conversation with Sawyer after Juliet left is still needling at her—not the part where she learned those glyphs (and helped workshop them to improve efficacy), but the part where Sawyer caught her up on Evermore’s recent string of murders.

The pictures Sawyer showed her were gruesome and though the wolf had suggested the victims looked more like a vampire’s victims, they reminded Willow of the murders that took place early in her last semester of senior year and those hadn’t been done by a vampire. (The local clan did a thorough investigation to avoid any undue damage to their reputation.) Just like those victims, every single one had their heart ripped straight from their chest; yet their wounds all looked scorched and their blood had turned thick and inky. The murderer was never found and the local authorities blamed rogue werewolves and fae from cursed lineages (that made Meredith's life hell). The murders stopped a couple months later and the cases all went cold. It makes her wonder about the murderer’s motives and why they’ve decided to come back now.

She had asked about the possibility of a copycat killer, but, according to Sawyer, they left the same trace as had been found nearly ten years ago. Trace being the unique magical signature that belongs to a caster. Everyone’s trace is in a database—or they’re supposed to be. Whoever had been behind the murders then and now isn't in the database; she remembers that puzzling detectives, because a person’s trace is recorded at birth. (It’s how the Department of Magical Affairs tracked down Willow’s mom and ordered her to place a child lock on Willow’s abilities.) So the killer is back and no one knows who it is. Worse yet is that they’ve expanded beyond Elsewhere, because Sawyer mentioned a string of victims found in You York, automatically making her think of Meredith and Dorothea. ...And Kinsley, she guesses.

She needs to tell Juliet, so that they're both prepared when they return, but when she looks over at her companion, she remembers the morning’s rush of events. Her gaze softens. She tugs on the straps of her backpack, absently, as she wonders whether or not to broach the subject. She somewhat knows that she’s earned the right after the last labyrinth, but she doesn’t want to be too much. She doesn’t want Juliet to think she thinks of her as a baby who needs to be coddled. She doesn’t want Juliet to feel like she’s under a spotlight. But she also doesn’t want Juliet to think she doesn’t care, either.

She sighs and skips a bit ahead of Juliet and then spins around, walking backwards (a bold move for Willow “trips over her own feet” James). “Hey, if you want to talk about earlier, you can. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” She smiles her lopsided dimpled smile. “I’m here for you. And…” She sighs again, spinning back around with a shrug. “I know what it’s like to disown a parent.” Granted, she has never blown up at her father the way he deserves, but she’s made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with him. A ward will do that. “So, I do get it on some level.”

Willow tilts her head back, observing the bloom of orange, reds, and yellows in the trees. Today the wood is in autumn. Or it is for now. (She is still getting used to all the rapid season transitions in Folklore. It’s quite charming.) A breezes sweeps through the trees, causing the leaves to shiver, and Willow catches some pixies riding on falling leaves, racing each other. She spies one cheating and slyly pushes them off course with a breeze, then immediately pretends she’s innocent by looking away from the cheater-pixie’s scandalized glare.

“And I’m sorry about Sawyer earlier. I know she can be a lot.” She continues, returning her attention from the pixie antics to Juliet. “But I can tell she likes you and I think this is her way of trying to get you to be her friend. It’s no excuse if it makes you uncomfortable. I can talk to her, if you’d like. Or you can. She’s pretty receptive to feedback.” Sawyer is the one person who Willow feels comfortable enough around that she can be wholly honest with her. (Well, Meredith, too, but that’s a given.) And she’s had to be upfront since the weirdo never picked up on her subtle (albeit passive aggressive) sticky notes.

“Anyway… if you’d rather, you can tell me more about the plants of Folklore instead? The apothecary told me about some, but she also said that their auras have been off lately. Is that because of the Lightless?” She tilts her head. “Um, we can also walk in silence if you don’t want to talk. Oooor," she pulls out her sword and starts slashing through the air (in a somewhat more practiced manner than when they first met), "You can fight me."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet cannot stop herself from turning the sight of Willow kissing Sawyer over in her head like a stone as they walk. It doesn't bother her. (It mustn't.) But she cannot seem to force the sight of Sawyer's cheeks turning pink at the touch of Willow's lips from her mind no matter how hard she tries. She never would have guessed that Willow was courting the wolf until that moment. The familiar arrow to her heart is a harsh reminder of why it's easier when she's alone. For seeing someone she holds affection for kiss another is... excruciating.

(Laughter pierces through the bustle and clamor of a tavern. A memory she should have forgotten by now tries to claw it's way in and Juliet nearly flinches with the exertion of pushing it away. It hurts too much to hold onto such things. She wishes only to be rid of them.)

It is... it is not to say that Juliet holds that manner of affection for Willow James. They are comrades with a shared goal. No more than that. And their shared goal is destined to diverge, crash and burn. Their meeting-- their thread-- was cursed from the very start. (Not... lucky.) The archer drives the sharp end of her thumbnail into the palm of her hand, using the sensation to ground herself. It should not bother her like this. It should not. And yet the memory is her adamant companion, torturing her with every step. Mocking her. This story does not end with true love or kisses. Not for her, anyway. The stories end in fire for her sort-- the women who want more, who are angrier than all the others vanquished and slain. This is a reminder to stay vigilant, to keep her distance.

It was... unexpected. That's all. That's why it was so jarring.

Talk...? A blush blooms over Juliet's cheeks when she realizes Willow has positioned herself to look directly at her while they walk. Her thoughts are so loud she wonders if they're transparent, if those green eyes can see right through her. Her lips part slightly, at a complete loss, and then press together again as the sorceress claims she knows what it is to disown a parent. (Oh. Of course. That is what she meant.) "I... I see." She does recall the night they met, what Willow had shared with her about her father's arrest. She is not sure it would help their morale for the mission to discuss such things at present. It is reassuring, though, to know the events of the morning had in fact happened and not been another figment of her imagination. She'd said things... things only the bolder, unashamed version of herself in her imagination was capable of saying. That she was pretending to be a daughter.

Willow speaks of Sawyer once more and Juliet bites her tongue. (Her edges are sharp with this unnecessary jealousy, she knows it, and she must soften herself before she speaks.) One too many times, she had seen the monster Brooks became because of his jealousy. Behaving as a spoiled child might... a child who possesses the strength of a monster. She breathes in deeply and exhales quietly, with the intention of expelling all of the hurt with the air in her lungs. It should not even be there to begin with. She does not want it, does not wish for it to taint their afternoon. It does not serve her at all to act on such feelings.

"It seems you know her very well." Juliet's tone is palatable, conversational. She's had years of practice. "I suppose she is like Millie in that way. You mustn't tell her I said this, as it will undoubtedly increase the size of her head." (...Is that how the saying goes?) "But sometimes her personality can be quite charming. It is not stifling to be around her as it is with the nobles. It reminds me of my life before..." She looks up at the colorful leaves rustling gently in the breeze, her gaze faraway. Then she flicks her attention to the path below her boots. (For an instant, an image of a younger Willow James smiling at her flashes in her mind. The details are clearer then they ought to be, down the freckles dusting her nose... she supposes because she has seen some of her memories in the labyrinth? But why...?) Ah. Why is she talking about this at all? Awkwardly, she scratches her cheek. "I simply required time to think this morning."

Juliet decides not to speak on that matter any further once Willow brings up the plants and then brandishes her sword. She tilts her head, perplexed. Is she... trying to make her feel better?

"...We will have to hike through Nightmare's Pass before we reach the Midnight Mountains. I can offer you a proper lesson on Folklore's plant life then." Juliet, knowing the state she's in, also realizes it may be best not to fight at present. The compromising positions, the thoughts that might emerge... "I would advise you conserve your energy for the journey, as the pass is home to many carnivorous plants. Such as sundews... and cobra lilies, which will hunt and try to eat us." (Ah. Juliet wishes she would not have to think about snakes again... or about Sawyer, wiggling on the floor.) Anyhow, experience is the best teacher. Lara taught her about the plants in the wood this way, as they traveled, rather than explaining things. "While the plants in Folklore's wood are indeed beautiful and magical, many of them are also deadly. You must be wary of them. Especially when they speak to you." Juliet tilts her head. As she thinks of the plants, the leaves on the trees change into a vibrant green and flowers sprout around their feet. Though the air stays crisp, it's spring now. The pixies around them rejoice and get back to their tasks, tending to the flowers and woodland animals. "I am not certain whether or not their auras are connected to the Lightless afflictions. I... was kept indoors, away from the wood and flowers for a while. I think it was during the preparation for the wedding that I noticed the flowers that once danced had stopped."

It was almost as if the flowers had all bowed their heads in sympathy and given up the way she had. That was the melancholic thought she'd had as her lady's maid was tying the back of her wedding dress shut. Trapping her. Juliet shakes the thought. Brooks hadn't changed yet then... but perhaps he had been afflicted with the sickness by then. There could indeed be a connection. "Perhaps we should focus our attention on a hunting lesson for lunch? Your pack is indeed convenient... but it would be good to be prepared, should you ever be without it again."

When they find a suitable stream where the water is shallow and clear, Juliet takes her elongating arrows out of her quiver-- changing them so they resemble spears. Once they've removed their shoes, they stand on the rocks, cold water rushing over their feet, and she shows Willow the proper techniques to fish. How to aim, where to aim, their behaviors and patterns. (Lucky hovers around them-- Willow, mainly-- ensuring she doesn't slip into the water. The rocks are quite slippery and it becomes a lesson in balance as much as anything else.) As they do so, she brings up the dangers of underwater spearfishing in the ocean-- the way that the blood of a speared fish can attract sharks and sea monsters. They have proven themselves capable of facing a hydra, however, so it is reasonable to say they could try it when they're next in Okeanos, should they have to travel beyond the castle and fend for themselves.

After that, Juliet shows her the proper techniques for starting a fire-- building a tinder nest and gathering dry wood. Then they cook the fish and put the fire out without using any magic. (Willow seems to know some of these things already, but nonetheless does not become impatient with her-- even seeming to make notes of the few things that she might not have known previously.) ...Mostly, Juliet narrates her process because it is the safest topic she can think of. She does not wish to test her imagination, or her theorized sight.

Once they are finished, they make their way towards Nightmare's Pass. (Although the sun hasn't set yet, the sky darkens and matches the time indicative of their surroundings. The pass is sparkling, lit by silver stars.) Within a patch of grass alongside the path, a lilac pops out of the ground near Willow's feet. A small, gentle face rests in it's largest petal. "Hello, dear traveler." It whispers softly, melodically. "Would you like to hear my song? I am ever so proud of it."

"No." Juliet sharply replies for Willow, ushering her away from the flower by the hand. "...It's a lullaby lilac. You mustn't listen to it, or you will fall into a deep slumber." When she finishes explaining, she sets her eyes to the path ahead... to discover with a pang of dread that rows upon rows of lilacs have since sprouted out of the ground. They smile all at once, baring sharp rows of teeth. What? "Willow... run!"

 

[starboob]

Willow much prefers her lesson with Juliet on fishing and starting fires (without magic!) than the one she had with her father on her eighth birthday. (The birthday where she begged him to take her and Leif camping. The birthday that was ruined because her father believes he’s above the law and decided to take them camping on a freaking nature preserve, where they were caught. He was so shifty around those rangers that Willow should have known something was up with her father. Granted, she was eight, but there were instances after that that should have also clued her in long before that not so typical Tuesday night.) Needless to say, this lesson will leave a much more pleasant memory to call upon should she ever be without Lucky, her flint, her lighter, or her magic. Besides, she always used to tell her campers that it’s never wrong to be prepared for any and every situation—hence the warehouse she has in her backpack.

With her belly full of fish and head full of new and refreshed lessons, she feels more than prepared to traverse the ominously named Nightmare Pass. Mhm. Totally.

Actually, no. She doesn’t at all feel prepared to traverse it, knowing that the plants of Folklore are much more dangerous and monstrous than the ones in Evermore. Knowing all the warnings she’s received about traveling the wood in general since starting this mission. And while she trusts Juliet to keep her safe, she also wonders if the changing auras in the flora might produce something unexpected; something that not even Juliet August is prepared for. (And thinking about what Juliet mentioned earlier, how she noticed that the flowers stopped dancing during the preparations for her wedding, it had reminded her of Dorothea’s own effect on nature; the way the roses along the palace steps in Amoria now sharpen to thorns similar to the alternating thorns and roses while Dorothea fought off whatever transformation had been trying to overtake her. Though she isn’t sure whether or not Dorothea could affect Folklore, even with there being a connection between the realms, this association has caused her to wonder if Juliet might have an affinity for nature. If it was her dread for her situation that caused the flowers to stop dancing. After all, the hex girl of the wood said that Juliet has potential. She has to wonder if she had been wrong to assume the changes were because of the Lightless. What if, perhaps, these changes come from the pain the Lightless inflict on their hapless victims? The ones who they hurt? If Juliet is serious about understanding her abilities as a caster, this might be worth exploring. Especially while they’re in the ever changing wood.)

With these changes comes new danger, but Willow supposes she was never wholly prepared for this quest to begin with. She simply took it on because no one else was stepping up, despite how hard she hoped. And now she’s here, at the entrance to the pass where the skies darken to match the hour of nightmares. She wrings her fists around her staff as she stares down the passage, unable to see a clear end (unable to see much of anything).

When the flower blooms at her feet, she opens her mouth to deny the seemingly harmless request, but the archer cuts in before she can. Something within the rising heroine deflates at that, shoulders dropping, as she wonders if Juliet only sees her as the cowering, curled up ball she was when surprised by an ogre; or the over eager other sider, almost always getting herself caught in danger, because she’s so wonderstruck by her surroundings. Hasn’t Juliet seen that she’s changed? That she doesn’t always need to be looked out for?

She doesn’t have time to explore that tangled rabbit hole further as the passage blooms with lullaby lilacs and Juliet gives the order to run. ‘Duck.’

“Yup, yup—great plan!” She hurriedly agrees, chasing after Juliet’s mass of red and trying to keep her pace as the lilacs join together in their lullaby, creating a sinister choir. She crushes her hands over her ears to block out the noise, wildly searching around for a point of safety. (Not that she should count on anything being safe with Juliet’s warning earlier.)

The lilacs chorus louder, piercing through Willow’s hand earmuffs. Lucky, who isn’t able to cover their ear holes, is starting to dip down as the song worms into their mind. Her dragon shakes their head fiercely, resisting the spell. They belt out a roar loud enough to momentarily drown out the lullaby and even uproots some of the lilacs, giving Willow an idea.

She speeds ahead of Juliet, propelling herself forward by calling on the wind. The winds gather behind her as she runs, building in intensity before she slides to a halt, sweeping her arms up, and dragging forth howling winds through the pass and buying them more time to make it to the clearing ahead. The force of the wind not only covers the sound of the song, it also uproots some of the lilacs and helps push Juliet, Peaches, and Lucky ahead into the clearing.

Once they reach the clearing, however, it doesn’t seem that they're anywhere near safety—in fact, waiting for them are the sprawling tendrils of a gargantuan sundew. Willow doesn’t recognize it at first, because she’s looking back at the first part of the pass, having noticed that Lucky isn’t above them any longer. Though the winds had helped move everyone forward, the dragon is weak on the ground, just at the border of where the lilacs stop and the sundew start. A trough has formed behind them from their fall and their eyes droop in spite of their efforts to remain conscious. They try to pull and drag themself forward to join the rest of the group, but they’re losing energy fast. Worse than that, the lilacs, with their menacing fangs, are starting to move across the passage towards the quickly fading companion.

Logically, Willow knows that dragon scales are not easy to penetrate—in fact, she knows it’s impossible to do so. And, logically, she also knows that it’s not impossible to harm a dragon. With enough trial and error, the lilacs are bound to find the chinks in her companion’s scales and reach the soft flesh underneath. It’s this thought that has Willow unsheathing Fearless Daylight and thoughtlessly bolting for Lucky.

“Lucky!” She cries, panic piercing through her tone.

Unfortunately, what Willow fails to notice or consider is the slithering sundew behind her. It moves like an octopus over the dark, starry soil and reaches out with its tendrils. One grabs the heroine’s ankle and pulls her off her feet and another wraps around her torso, dragging her towards its salivating maw. The heroine struggles against the tendrils, venom burning her skin and threatening to burn through her clothes. She lifts her sword, ready to hack at the sundew, and calls to Juliet, “Don’t worry about me—please, get Lucky.” A world without her dragon is just not one that she wants to live in, to be quite honest.

 

[ellarose]

While it has always overflowed with dangerous plants-- the kinds from nightmares-- the pass is unusually hostile. As if something had tromped through before them and hexed everything within into a mindless rage. Is this what the apothecary meant to say when she mentioned the auras of the flowers in Folklore? Sundews, while they are indeed carnivorous, tend to lie still and wait for their prey. A silent threat that takes travelers off guard, aiming to trap any who tread over them with their sticky, dew-like globes. (Tricking insects who seek to drink from them and anyone who might be fascinated by sparkly things. Like herself at five years old, wide-eyed and curious. She remembers the tightness of Lara's grip around her wrist when she snatched her away just before she could reach out and poke one.) In all of her years traversing the wood, she has never witnessed one physically reach out and attack someone this way. They're acting as though they are cobra lilies instead. It's unnatural, startling enough that it causes Juliet pause for a moment. But only a moment, as when Willow shouts she is instantly called back into the present. She can think about this later! For now...

Reflexively, Juliet reaches for her falchion and runs in an arc from where she's standing, slashing right through the sundew dragging Willow on her way with practiced ease and also hacking through all those that try to grab for her. They're not going to hold her back or slow her down. She grew up in these woods, fighting every day to be fast and strong enough to contend with it. The archer never stops moving, refusing to waste even a single step, scooping the end of one of the severed plants into her hand, clutching the side without the sticky globes (it still burns a little-- but with the protective layer of of her gloves, she hardly notices it). Then she dashes like a bolt of red lightning towards Lucky. She wields the severed vine of sundew she collected like a whip to knock the lilacs away from the sleeping dragon, their dewy globes sticking to their petals and burning through them.

The lilacs song turns into an agonized screech, creating a ripple effect that infects the lullaby of those still rooted behind them. They hiss and sing like they mean to inflict nightmares now instead of sweet dreams. (The shadows cast by the trees shiver and writhe in response, as if awakening to dance to this tune. Holes shaped like narrow eyes and razor-toothed grins open up in their centers.) In a last ditch effort to silence the flowers, she whips the sundew out a few more times to ensure the area around them is completely clear of lilacs before tossing it out amidst a cluster of those that stayed intact through Willow's winds.

Juliet collects Lucky in her arms just as branches of shadow reach out for her. They can't hurt you. Once they reach the toes of her boots, however, they bulge out of the earth and transform into snapping vipers. Fuck. The archer tenses, pressing Lucky close to her and scooping a hand under their tail to keep it away from the snakes around her. If she believes they can hurt her, they will. She has to stay calm... but fuck, she hates it when she's told to calm down. (She was calm until they started telling her she wasn't. Now she's trained herself to look calm when she is anything but.)

"Juliet... did you really think you could outrun us? You're fast, but not that fast." They giggle and call her name in annoying, silken tones. "Tsk, tsk. Must you misbehave this way? You should have been in bed hours ago!" Juliet kicks at one that wraps around her ankles, brown eyes darting over the earth for a path she can use to escape them. "You know you'll only tire yourself by resisting us." She stomps on the snakes and they flatten. However, the nightmare isn't over as piercing blue eyes blink open within them instead. Staring up at her. "Doesn't this exhaust you, love? Wouldn't it be nice to close your eyes? Let me take care of you for a little while?"

Sefarina. Juliet squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, struggling to hold onto her composure. The eyes are still there, staring back at her. Seeing through her, down to her very core. Her heart flutters like the wings of a trapped bird. Mother, Sefarina, Brooks. (And even...) All of them claimed that they wanted to take care of her, that they knew what was best for her. Yes... and just look at her now. She doesn't trust a word of it-- not from anyone.

"Get out." Juliet commands quietly through her teeth, whirling in a circle. They're everywhere now. Everywhere. Everywhere. "Get out of my head." She stomps on the eyes this time. They do start to vanish-- but in vanquishing the illusions, she fails to notice one single lilac at her ankles... and that's all it takes. Fangs sink into her flesh, in the precise place where the snake had bitten her earlier like a prophecy fulfilled. There's nothing she can do about it now-- sleep is coming for her and it's going to catch up sooner rather than later.

Warmth blankets itself over Juliet in an instant, so all-encompassing and comforting that it unsettles her. (Being lulled into relaxation when her every instinct screams that this is a trap... but she's helpless to stop the effects from taking over.) Her insides are melting slowly and turning to butter. If she allows her mind to drift, she swears she can taste salt on her tongue-- that she can hear ocean waves lapping gently at the shore, like dreams lapping at the corners of her mind. Though there's a delay between her intentions and her body's responses, she manages to crush the lilac that bit her under her heel before forging her way towards Willow. Juliet scrapes together every fragment of awareness she has left to hug Lucky protectively to her chest, their warmth and scales the only anchor she has to reality. Her senses are all slowly fading.

"Come on." Juliet's so tired that she isn't sure if she says this or if she simply wishes to say it and her lips are incapable of catching up. She moves through molasses, dragging herself step by step towards the clearing. It tilts and fades all around her. She looks at the sorceress and sees three Willows all at once, forcing her to close her eyes before she can become any dizzier. "We're almost..."

Juliet manages to make it only a single step out of Nightmare's Pass before she collapses into a heap, Lucky held tightly in her arms.

 

[starboob]

Willow frets when Juliet doesn’t immediately bolt for Lucky in a straightforward line, worried that the archer is going to ignore her request, but the feeling barely roots itself and relief washes it away a second later. Juliet is merely being her efficient self, cutting and collecting the tendrils before making for her companion. However, her relief is short lived as the sundews persist, refusing to retreat even with the limbs hacked off—in fact, they seem determined to seek vengeance (even if Willow is not the culprit for their mutilations).

Three tendrils spring forward and she instinctively bats them away with her sword, though her cut is not as clean or precise as Juliet’s and she only manages to tear the plant. Still, it gives enough room for the sorceress to stand and prepare for the next attack. Another gooey tendril wraps around her staff and she unhesitatingly hacks it with her sword. There isn’t a moment of reprieve as a few more try to use her drawn attention to ensnare and trap her. Willow catches the movement through her peripheries, pivots, and smacks them away with the buttend of her staff. The plant recoils, but isn’t going to give up. It doesn’t even seem to tire and as Willow notices more sundews creeping from the depths of the shadowy trees and she realizes she’s going to need to be more than just one Willow James. She’s not as quick as Juliet and not nearly as efficient, but she knows there are other ways for her to make up for her deficits. (And if she wants Juliet to truly see her for what she is capable of, then she needs to show her what she is capable of.)

She smacks her staff to the ground, sending a ripple through the earth as the stone at the top glows, acting as an antenna to draw more of the will towards herself. The ripple also pushes back the sundews, leaving her with some space to perform her next spell. (But she knows she’s going to need to be quick for this advantage to last.) ‘You’ve got this, WJ. You’ve done this a thousand times before. You wrote the rules for this. C’mon!’

She exhales.

Her eyes flash like a traffic light as she summons her mirrorball into the air (it catches the light from her staff and sparkles in the air as it spins) and has it shift into two full length mirrors on either side of her. With both hands, she draws out a complex glyph, splits it, and sends them into each mirror. Then, just touching the mirrors with the tips of her fingers, she makes a connection with her reflections, turning them into two solid Willows that she pulls forward. These Willows are also equipped with swords and need no instruction as they jump to help the original Willow.

Of course, being copies of herself, they are only as good as she is with the sword. Even so, three swords are better than one. Together, the three Willows are able to fend off the sundews, turning them into a mess of hacked off limbs. Where one Willow might get caught by a tendril, another jumps in to sever the connection. If another trips, there is one to defend her until she stands again. They aren’t exactly a force to be reckoned with, but against these plants they are able to force them to retreat as the sundews eventually realize they’re exhausting more energy than this dinner might be worth.

The Willows don’t waste time to celebrate, immediately spinning around to check on their companions, only to see the exact moment where Juliet falls, clutching Lucky close to her chest. (The sight would be endearing if it weren’t so concerning.) “Juliet!” All three cry out at once, lunging forward to collect her companions.

Before any of them even make it three steps, there’s a nearly imperceptible movement in the air, like an arrow, followed by a thud. When Willow looks over, one Willow is down, arrow through her chest before her form slowly dissolves to multi-colored goo. The sight causes her stomach to lurch, distracting her enough that she misses the sound of another arrow flying through the air and taking out her remaining double.

She spins, squinting through the scraggly trees to try and make out the assailant. Her sword and staff are both readied. The citrine stone brights once more, becoming like a miniature sun and illuminating seven large hooded figures all mounted on what look like enlarged donkeys with saberteeth. ‘Duck.’ Two are aiming crossbows at her. Three have deadly spiked maces. Another a warhammer and the last has a club.

She swallows hard, a chill speeding down her spine as she realizes her odds, especially without Juliet and Lucky to aid her. ‘Think fast.’ Somewhere Willow already knows how this is going to end, but she does what she can anyway, unwilling to give up. (Juliet would never, so she won’t either.)

In a quick movement, she stamps her staff to the ground, sending out dozens of blinking and flashing lights like strobes. The seven donkeys all rear and buck and she can hear the figures cursing as they’re thrown off, losing control of their animals. (Unseen by anyone, including Willow, Peaches shrinks herself down and hides herself in one of Willow’s tighter curls.) But Willow doesn’t pay them any mind. Instead, she takes one of the flashing lights and casts it over Juliet and Lucky like a blanket, bending the light around them to turn them invisible. (She isn’t sure if the figures saw the downed archer and dragon, but she has to protect them as best she can.) She casts another spell over them to dissuade any predators or travelers from inspecting the invisible heap.

Unfortunately, by the time Willow turns back around, her face meets the cruel end of a club and her lights go out just like that.

***​

It could be hours or days by the time Willow comes to, wincing and inhaling sharply as her cheek, tight and swollen, throbs. This slight movement only aggravates the split bruise further, reminding herself to keep still. As the sharpness of the ache fades, she opens her eyes only to find that she's surrounded by darkness. She can only make out the faintest of twinkles of whatever enclosure she's in, but they hardly provide any light.

'What... Where... What happened?' The last thing she remembers is…

She gasps, trying to get up, only to realize that her hands are tied behind her back, and she clumsily falls forward into the starry ground. Starry ground. Remembering what she saw in the mirror when they tried to find Flynn, she immediately recognizes this as the Midnight Mountains. She struggles to peel herself from the dirt, looking around to see if she can spot any sign that she might not be alone. Though it's dark, her eyes begin to adjust enough that she can make out vague silhouettes, like bars of what can only be a prison cell. And, just across from her, she can see a hunched over figure.

“Juliet?" she whispers, "Is that you?” Part of her hopes not, that her spells worked, but another part of her wishes for nothing more than the archer, her fellow heroine. If there's anyone she trusts to get them out of this mess, it's her.

 

[ellarose]

A quiet, rousing groan answers Willow's question from in the darkness. Whoever it is, they seem to be trying to formulate a response for her... but a couple of wet-sounding coughs leave them instead. A spray of red phlegm lands in the starry dirt. Peaches peeks out from her hiding place in the sorceress's curls, her attention immediately captivated by this presence, and the axolotl enlarges to her average size. A soft pink glow emerges from the companion as her bubble floats peacefully to the ground between the two prisoners. While it's faint, the contrast illuminates the cell and reveals a beaten and bruised Flynn Everson lying there, arms and legs burrowed in protectively over his middle. Shreds of his white shirt cling to his skin, which is so dirty it's hard to say what might be soil and what might be dried blood. He twists his face away at the light to shield his eyes, which have long ago accustomed themselves to the midnight tones of the mountain and burn at any trace of it. It takes him a minute to gather his bearings, to understand what he just saw and the implications of it.

"Peaches? Is... is that really you?" Flynn manages to speak at last as he draws his sight back towards the light. His voice is as dry and rough as mountain walls surrounding them-- as though he hasn't used it for quite some time. "And you're..." He tries to peer beyond Peaches, where Willow is, but the axolotl squeaks when she's recognized and hurries over to his side.

Peaches proceeds to run excitedly all over his face, drawing a pained little laugh from his throat.

"Yes, yes. Hello. I'm happy to see you as well, my friend." Flynn greets the companion gently, a good-natured warmth filling his eyes which were blank and unseeing only moments before. Peaches continues to run all over him, her feet leaving paths of tiny healing roses that kiss away bruises and cuts, easing the swelling and making him more and more recognizable. "That tickles, you know."

Flynn maneuvers his shoulder up towards his chin, as if trying to rub his jaw with it while his hands are tired. Then, with herculean effort, he presses his hands to the ground to lever himself upright into a sitting position. He flinches. In this position, it's evident that he's severely wounded, with scars, gashes and burns streaked all over his chest like a bloody canvas. Peaches floats down, peering at him concernedly as she contemplates where to even start.

"You... you're Willow James. We weren't properly introduced that first night, were we? Are you all right?" Flynn observes the sorceress in the dark, searching her for signs of injury. His softened gaze steels as it flickers cautiously towards the bars of their cell. There seems to be a big, hulking mass of shadow outside guarding, but their loud snores echo over the walls and indicate that it's still safe for them to speak. "Has Elise sent for you and Juliet in secret, then? Is-- is she safe?" His brow furrows deeply with concern, he's hardly able to withhold the desperation from his tone. Despite this, he keeps it low, his gaze continuously working around their surroundings. "I must admit, I have many questions. Time is frozen in a perpetual midnight here... I cannot be certain whether I've been here for days or years." Flynn sags exhaustedly, as if there's something in him that's about to shatter, but he won't let it. "I have memorized the guard's shifts. This buffoon will slumber the next hour away... we can speak until then. Unless the others return to interrogate us."

Flynn winces at this thought, ghosts flashing in his gaze as he dips it down to look at his unique assortment of wounds. His expression works through phases of grief, horror and anger. His innocent, charming features are strewn with shadows that may never disappear entirely, wizening him and making him appear a bit older than before.

"Torture is a better word for it. I will do what I can to protect you from it. You have my word." Flynn vows fiercely. It seems more than anything, he's terrified of the prospect of Willow enduring whatever it is he has endured himself and that's the extent of it. There's no underlying contempt for her role as a heroine, no indication he thinks her a damsel as many of the other guards in Amoria might. "They will ask for information about the queen, the princess... and Juliet, too. We will hear them coming. Mine carts, footsteps, chains. If you hear them, turn away from me. Pretend you're still asleep. They mustn't know we've been talking. And you, Peaches, must hide with Willow. Should they find out you're here... I cannot bear to imagine what they might do to you."

Peaches trembles a bit with strain, it appears she's focusing her magic towards Flynn's chest now-- a bouquet of roses blooming one by one over his injuries.

"Easy, Peaches. I will be fine." Flynn flinches, suggesting otherwise. He can't hide that he's in rough shape, though he tries. "...Do not overexert yourself for my sake. Elise will grow ill if you do." A soft pink brushes over his cheeks and he looks up at Willow again, something in his gaze a bit shy-- making him appear slightly boyish again in spite of everything. "...Have you seen her recently? How was she? She's not in any danger, is she?" He's repeating himself, but it seems he cannot help it, no doubt having experienced agonizing worry since their separation.

 

[starboob]

The groan does not belong to Juliet, Willow knows this straight away. It sounds too masculine and lacks Juliet’s soft tone. (Something she would recognize anywhere.) This should be comforting—should be, and yet this only leaves a million more possibilities for what could have come of her companions. While she is confident that her spell held and will hold for as long as they’re trapped in slumber, that doesn’t mean the ever worrying sorceress is able to put herself at ease. The many (unhelpful) what-ifs float through her mind, working her heart into tight knots.

But the sight of the man, illuminated by Peaches's soft glow, reminds Willow of what is immediately important. Her green eyes narrow, something about him familiar and confirmed when the princess’s companion rushes up to him and decorates him in healing roses. Flynn. Of course. If not Juliet, then who else could it be? (At least, she hopes it’s only them who have been captured by the trolls bound to the mountains.)

Her heart squeezes in her chest, aching with sympathy, not wanting to imagine every brutalization he’s suffered. And even then, she recalls what she saw in the mirror when they discovered Flynn’s location. The lashing whips, his pulverized state. He looks even worse now and that in and of itself is a concern. Especially considering that they discovered his capture only a couple days ago. Yet, despite his state, he doesn’t seem entirely broken and Willow doesn’t have to wonder what’s keeping him going.

She’s warmed to him the second he asks about her wellbeing and practically melts when he asks about the princess. Whatever his crimes are against Milfred and Juliet, Willow James decides that she likes him. He seems like a good man, like Leif, Rupert, and Theodore Blake. (It makes her wonder why Milfred and Juliet don’t like him.) There’s also something striking about him and his good natured energy that reminds her of someone she believes that she used to know. In her mind she can just barely make out the sound of their laugh and the curve of their smile, but she cannot place their face or even find a name. She doesn’t think anything of this, however, knowing there are plenty of childhood friends who she has forgotten over time and her memory is not as strong as her grandma’s, being only an elfling.

Rather than think about that, she instead watches as Peaches improves his condition (albeit mildly) and listens as he explains the guards’ shift, taking note of the slumbering mass sitting at the bars of their cell. She squints, noticing the club held in his lazy fist. On the wall just across from him she spots what she thinks is a ring of keys. An idea starts to spark, but, first and foremost, she intends to reassure Flynn’s obvious worries. Or, well, considering everything that Princess Elise is up against, at least catch him up. She imagines this won’t be comforting news beyond knowing that she is still alive.

“I have,” Willow confirms, starting with what is most important to him. She knows that if she were in his position, not knowing what is happening to Juliet, she would want her questions about Juliet answered first. (And she will be asking him if he heard anyone else being brought in.) “The princess is being kept in the tower and I believe it’s her thoughts of you that are keeping her going. She was somber the last I saw her. Mourning, honestly.” Willow aches thinking about the princess, remembering the needle point she made of what she hopes will be her future name. Elise Everson. (It makes her wonder why Dorothea hasn’t given up, being that she’s threaded to someone who obviously makes her unhappy, who obviously is out to harm her, and not someone as sweet as Flynn.)

“She’s worried for you and knows that you didn’t run away, despite what the queen has told her. She has full faith that you would not have left without good reason.” A question lingers in the air and the heroine isn’t sure whether or not to speak it, but she is curious and so she does. “What exactly caused you to flee Amoria, if you don’t mind my asking?” Never one to pry, she adds, “If it’s too much, we don’t have to talk about it.”

She bites her lip in a similar way as a certain archer does as she deliberates how to address this next piece. ‘Best to just say it.’ “I’m not sure if you heard, but there is going to be a tournament for Princess Elise’s hand in marriage.” Her fists tighten behind her back, her tone becoming a touch hotter. “Queen Viviane has spun Elise’s intentions to marry you as her desire for a husband who can protect her and the tournament will be a way for her to assess the skill of her matches. The eligible royals of Folklore are making their way to Amoria as we speak.” Again, she bites her lip. “King Cayman is one of them. Juliet told me some about him and she believes that Queen Viviane will meddle to prevent his victory.” Regardless of what Willow says, it’s clear that the sorceress doubts the queen’s ability to actually stop Cayman. It’s true that Willow has yet to meet the queen, outside of her austere and piercing portraits, but she does worry that she might be overplaying her hand. At the very least, Willow thinks there's a risk in allowing him to participate. So, naturally, the sorceress is already thinking of ways she might be able to interfere on behalf of the princess; hexing weaponry and bewitching horses should be simple enough.

“Juliet and I intend to make it back before the tournament and we will do what we can to help without raising any eyebrows.” Though she does wonder what sort of eyes will be on them with the ruckus they caused in Okeanos. “Neither of us agree that Elise’s hand in marriage is a prize to be won. She’s made her choice and it’s you. I’ll do everything I can to protect her wishes.” Because, like Elise, Willow believes in love. She might not believe that a royal love match will fix all the woes in Folklore or even stop the spread of Lightless, but she thinks it's important that all people get to choose their lovers, whether that be following their invisible string or pursuing something different.

After letting all this settle in the air between them, the sorceress asks the questions that have been pressing her since overhearing that conversation with the trolls. “What… What exactly is going on here, Flynn? Is someone plotting against the queen?” Her tone then turns a touch serious, full of a similar concern that Flynn has for Elise. “Why are they wondering about Juliet?” Unspoken and too scared to know, there’s also the question of whether or not Juliet (and Lucky) might have been brought in after her.

 

[ellarose]

"Elise sees through their lies. The think her a naive little girl, claiming her kindness is weakness..." Flynn sighs, his shoulders drooping forward. While he's visibly exhausted, perhaps partially on Elise's behalf, fondness lends his eyes a glimmer of light when he speaks of the princess. "But despite all of their differences, she is her mother's daughter. They will all see that when she is queen." He manages a small, tight grin by means of thanks. "I haven't allowed myself to doubt her belief in me for a second... it is why I've endured for as long as I have. It is a comfort, though, to hear it in someone's words other than my own. I fear it is easy to drive oneself mad in such a place as this." The shadow of a smile on his face fades to a frown as he considers it. A thought passes across his face, one he hesitates to voice before deciding not to. Instead, he grounds himself with the topic at hand. "So they told her I fled."

Flynn screws his eyes shut. The weight of everything that happened seems to pile on his shoulders all at once in that moment, threatening to crush him down into the dirt. Peaches, concerned, nuzzles into the crook of his neck and he opens his eyes again.

"It is true that I fled. But I was not given much choice in the matter." Flynn explains, glaring down at his dirtied hands. Despite the pain it brings, he pushes past it to be forthright with Willow. (To have someone to tell his truth, in case he never makes it back to Elise.) And because the heroines of love ought to know who to watch out for. "It is a long story..." He glimpses the snoring guard, considers the timeframe they have. "But we do have some time. And it may benefit you and Juliet to be aware of what happened." Peaches curls up in his lap, staring up at him with curious eyes as she prepares to listen as well.

"It began with Ambrose, the queen's advisor. He summoned me shortly after the princess's announcement and presented me with a pair of hexed scissors." Flynn pauses, perhaps to gauge whether or not Willow has any questions as to what hexed scissors are as an other sider. When it is apparent she has none and understands what he speaks of, he continues telling his story. "They were kept in an elaborate silver box, as if he was afraid to touch them with his own hands. He asked me to cut my thread and threatened to ruin my family if I refused." He clenches his bound hands, grits his teeth as he struggles to tamp down on his frustration. "I knew those were empty threats, as he has nothing to ruin us with. My father and I have dedicated our entire lives to the protection and wellbeing of the kingdom. Moreover, it would be dishonorable and cowardly to do that to Elise. I refused right away." He scoffs. "Ambrose was livid. He wouldn't dare to cut it himself. Men like him openly revile magic... but they have no trouble commissioning enchanted items to make their lives easier. So long as they're not the ones who wield them, they are content to feign ignorance and accuse others. Had I cut our thread by my own hand, the story would have spread... and worst of all, it would have been true."

"I should mention that Queen Viviane played no role in this plot, as she was still making her return from Okeanos when it happened. She knows well what becomes of nobles who have had their threads severed. If Elise's thread were cut, she would undoubtedly struggle to produce a healthy heir to the throne." Flynn explains. "You and Juliet journeyed to Okeanos, did you not? Then I suppose you also know that King Cedrick and Queen Adelaide have no heir. And Juliet may have already told you that the August family could not have children of their own because of this as well. That fate has befallen her brother and her closest friend. She would not wish it on Elise." He shakes his head, at a loss. "While she may not give me her blessing to marry her daughter, Queen Viviane would sooner protect our thread then sever it. She respects the fates in a way a man like Ambrose does not." He pauses. "Ambrose craves power and is not to be trusted. Unfortunately, I do not know much of his plot beyond that. You and Juliet ought to be careful around him." His eyes flick to the guard sitting outside of their cell again. "The trolls have been hinting at a larger plot, too. They speak as if they expect Elise to be queen soon. Queen Viviane may be in danger. We must warn them."

Peaches cowers at this news, hiding her face against Flynn's thigh. While it's awkward, he moves his tied hands in attempt to give her bubble a consoling little nudge.

"After that, a group of ruffians tracked me down. I assume Ambrose hired them. I was outnumbered and they chased me into the wood. I managed to steal their hexed scissors before they could cut my thread... but in the process, I regrettably lost my footing and fell into a ravine. The ruffians must have assumed the fall killed me and left. I lost consciousness and when I awoke I was here, in this cell." Flynn presses his lips into a worried line. "The scissors were gone. I assume the trolls have them now. They haven't cut my thread, as it seems they intend to ransom me to Elise." He sighs, looking down at Peaches. "I think they have also trapped my companion, Oberon, somewhere in the mountain."

Peaches walks determinedly towards the cell's bars, slipping through them with ease and tilting her head as if to say she can search for Oberon.

"No. Not yet, Peaches. We mustn't let anyone see you." Flynn shakes his head, giving her a stern look that persuades her to come back inside. She lowers her gaze sadly, undoubtedly thinking of poor Oberon. "I know, I feel the same way. But we'll be safer if we all stay together."

Flynn screws his eyes shut again, hearing of the tournament. Imagining what his princess must be going through. He stays mostly quiet through her explanation-- cursing under his breath at the mention of King Cayman. Having already feared some plot brewing against the queen and princess of Amoria, it goes without saying that King Cayman's arrival introduces even more for him to worry about. "It isn't right. Oh, Elise..." He vents his frustration, though he knows Willow understands as she explains her will to help them. He softens. "Thank you, truly. For offering to help and for respecting her wishes. It is a relief to know that Elise is not alone. Amoria will be unsafe for me for quite some time, I believe... even more so than before, with the likes of King Cayman and other royals lurking about. I can only imagine the numerous ways they could make me disappear, knowing I may stand in their path to Amoria's throne." He deflates, overwhelmed by the prospect. It stands to reason there are other corrupt royals among those who have entered the tournament next to King Cayman. "Even so, I would like to help you in any way I am able. This is my fight, too, so if there's anything I can do..." His eyes are slightly sad as he looks down at his chest, perhaps considering how much help he will be of to them in his current state. It'll take quite some time before he's in the right shape to fight again. "If there is anything I can do, send for me right away. I would do anything for Elise."

Flynn watches Willow interestedly as she begins to breach the subject of Juliet, perhaps taking note of the expression on her face. "You care about her." Sheepishly, he averts his eyes when he realizes he's been staring and said that aloud. "Forgive me. I am simply relieved that Jules has someone like you by her side." He pauses, then, considering her question. "A few years ago, Juliet went missing for quite some time. I spent months searching the wood for her and during those months, I gleaned very quickly that she has a reputation among the inhabitants. They all call her 'red hood'. And I think--" He struggles to find the words for it. "I think they're scared of her. I can't quite explain it. Little girls aren't supposed to make it out of the wood alive... and Juliet did. Several times, in fact. She eluded death at every turn and it made her into something of a legend." He says this more with respect than disdain. "A lot of them are harboring grudges for lost hands. Others simply want to be the one to kill the red hood, believing it might make them more fearsome. It's only an assumption, but I think that's what these trolls are after."

"I'm certain Juliet will be all right. She's a fearsome opponent... and I say that from experience. She always bested me when we sparred in secret as kids." Flynn manages a reassuring smile for Willow's sake, finding no shame at all in admitting his losses. "For now, let's focus on escaping this hellhole. I saw you looking at the keys... it was so dark, I didn't see them there before." He nods at Peaches. "Do you think you could get them for us, Peaches?" The companion bobs her head and hurries off, eager to do just that. While they wait, he continues. "What were the two of you doing before they brought you here?"

 

[starboob]

While Flynn talks, Willow takes inventory of her belongings, figuring out what’s missing from her person and what she’s been allowed to keep. This business of multitasking is nearly impossible, however, because every other sentence that flies out of her cellmate’s mouth lights a fire in her stomach. It threatens to spill over and barbecue them both in this cell before they even have a chance to escape and, on more than one occasion, the sorceress has to keep herself from gasping too loudly lest she wake the guard. She's bursting with withheld frustrated noises and the air in their cell seems to spark and sizzle as a result. But as soon as Willow notices this, she takes a breath and holds it for three counts, calming herself before calling on a full on rainstorm. She tries to focus more on the positives, like the way this man speaks of his lover with admiration and respect. His deep concern for her situation despite his own terrible one. His determination when he asks to be included in this fight, even if he must do his work from the shadows. (Though it’s not the point, Willow can’t help but to wonder if Juliet will ever feel this passionately about her someday.)

Once she’s calmed herself some, she tries to levelly consider the implications of Ambrose’s treachery, because if this is something the queen would never sanction, Willow fails to see how he could be a friend to the crown, despite how close he is to it. And therein lies the problem. He’s got a taste of power already with his position and it’s no wonder he wants more. She has to wonder whether he’s also part of this larger plot to put Elise on the throne sooner rather than later or if he’s trying to get rid of this lineage altogether. (It makes her wonder about King Alistair’s assassination. Was it really Cayman? Or could Ambrose secretly be a man of Cayman’s?) She chews on her bottom lip as she considers this, staring down at the starry dirt as she rifles through the facts.

“If there are hexed scissors here, we need to find them and confiscate them,” she nods, looking up to meet Flynn’s gaze. “Juliet and I almost snagged a pair in Okeanos, but they kept getting away from us before we could.” If Willow could just study a pair, it might help bring them closer to identifying a culprit. It could help them save love—like, really save it. (More than that, Willow is curious who all are behind this. Is it possible they’re also trying to change the system that ties people together? She’d like to meet them to find out. If there’s anything she can do to save Dorothea from her fate, if there’s anything she can do to prevent another from suffering the fate that became of her mother, if there’s anything she can do to free Meredith… Maybe it’s worth defying the fates. As much as she respects them, this cannot be the way. She won’t accept it.)

Her fists tighten behind her back just thinking of Ambrose again. “I’ll be sure to assure Elise of the circumstances that led to your absence and I’m sure that Juliet and I can arrange somewhere safe for you to hide.” Finding his parallel does come to mind as an option, though Willow isn’t necessarily sure she knows who that might be. Outside of that phantom memory, his parallel could be any number of people in Evermore. Sawyer or Milfred might know how to work around that should he need to put a realm between himself and those who would get rid of him. “I’ll figure out a way to warn the queen as well without risking any prying eyes.” If Ambrose is against magic, it shouldn’t be hard to ensure privacy. However, knowing he’ll hire casters to do his bidding, she decides she ought to be overly cautious anyway. “Do you think Ambrose might be staging a coup? Like, could there be others on the castle staff to be wary of?”

Though Willow does not have her staff, sword, or warehouse in a backpack, she still could have summoned those keys to her. It’s not like she needs her staff for magic—she’s been summoning storms since before she got her license to carry a staff—but it does take some of the concentration out of it. However, it seems like Peaches is restless and wants to help, especially since finding out that Oberon is missing. (Again, this makes her wonder about Gracie and Lucky’s relationship and if they’ll ever have that level of care for one another. She can tell that Lucky is trying way too hard to be Gracie’s friend and she hopes the shy fox warms up to her eager dragon with time. This also reminds her of the bond that Mallard and Valeria have and how it’s not uncommon to find them piled on top of one another in a patch of sun. Willow thinks they’re in love. Clover thinks she’s weird.) While the companion works, Willow feels around for her keychain, having heard it jangle earlier. She also notes that she’s been allowed to keep her pouch. The very one that has Sabrina’s gun, though she’s hesitant to use that. She’s not fully gun trained and it would be irresponsible. (The one and only time she shot a real gun, she cried immediately afterwards. In her defense, she was not prepared for the recoil of a shotgun and Leif was immediately apologetic.)

“We were looking for you before we were separated,” Willow starts, feeling around for the beaded mouse keychain that one of her campers made for her. “I worked with Elise to figure out your location.” She isn’t sure whether or not she should come out to him as a caster, but she supposes he’s about to find out anyway. “I’m a sorceress—please don’t refer to me as anything else. Witch is an unkind word in Evermore. Anyway, I was able to use some of my mirror magic to help Elise channel your thread. Juliet figured out the location based on what we saw.” Her heart swells with pride thinking about the comments Flynn made about the archer and just knowing how smart Juliet is. It’s also been reassuring to remember that Juliet August is Juliet August. She will be fine. She also has Lucky with her and the two of them together will be a force to be reckoned with. “We were hiking through Nightmare Pass and Juliet was explaining the flora to me when we were ambushed by some lullaby lilacs. My companion got hit with their spell while I got tangled in some sundews.” From behind her back she animates the beaded mouse, turning her into a real life mouse with green and pink fur. With the link she’s created between herself and her animated keychain, she has the mouse chew through the ropes binding her. “She must’ve been hit with the lilac spell, because when I turned around, she was on the ground. I wasn’t able to reach her before I realized we had more than carnivorous plants to worry about.” The mouse finishes with Willow’s binds and she sends her over to Flynn. “Oh, that’s a friend of mine. Don’t worry about her, she’s going to help us.”

She squints, trying to remember her place in the story while she rubs feeling back into her wrists, wincing as she touches raw skin. “Anyway, I couldn’t make out the attackers’ faces but there were seven and they were large.” She doesn’t want to assume they were trolls, but it’s highly likely considering where she’s ended up. “I managed to cast a few spells to make sure Juliet and Lucky, my companion, would be protected, but got clubbed in the face before I could even try to fend them off… Then I woke up here." Even though Flynn's already spotted her affections for Juliet, she becomes a touch shy when she asks, "I… I don’t suppose you know if anyone else was brought in with me?”

At this point, Peaches comes back into the cell with the ring of keys balanced on her magic bubble, setting them gently onto Flynn’s lap. Willow’s mouse also finishes chewing through his bindings and scampers back to Willow, climbing up onto her shoulder. She glances over the guard’s figure as he snores in a particularly violent manner, like he’s fighting for his life in a dream. She stiffens, holding her breath. He settles a second later. ‘Wish I had my harp…’ Had she had that, she could have played that lullaby spell Dorothea once taught her. “We should sneak out of here before the guard shift switches.” Considering Flynn’s injuries, she also wants to avoid fighting as much as possible. “Have you been able to memorize any paths in the mountain? If not, I can send my friend,” she gestures to her shoulder mouse, “ahead of us to scope things out.”

 

[ellarose]

"No, I cannot say for certain that anyone else was brought here." Flynn admits apologetically. "I have not seen any other prisoners throughout my time here, until you appeared. Although... I suppose that's because they usually eat their other prisoners." He rubs a hand over his throat, shuddering at the thought. "Since they have not locked us in individual cells, this may be the only one they have. I suppose it is possible they deemed Juliet too dangerous and are holding her elsewhere in the mountain... or, worse, are keeping her in the torture chamber. Ah. Unfortunately, it would not be the first time she's been in such a situation." Realizing how grim this sounds, he flinches and continues reassuringly. "If you put a protective spell on her, it is highly likely she avoided capture altogether alongside your companion. The trolls may be strong... but the are not very bright."

Flynn watches the pink and green mouse curiously as it gnaws at his binds. After giving a nod of thanks, he rolls his wrists and then massages feeling back into them with a grimace. Then he snatches the keys protectively into his hands, clinging tightly to them. With his desire for escape, it would take more than the strength of a single troll to pry them away from him now. When the troll's snores change pitch, Peaches floats over towards him, casting the lumbering figure in her glow. Gradually, his breathing slows again as she eases whatever it is that ails him.

"Until now, it has been much too dark for me to see anything. I thought my eyes might adjust eventually, but..." Flynn's shoulders sag. He quickly recovers, though. As little information as he has, what he has isn't nothing. "Sound travels easily here-- and through that, I have gathered that there is a mine cart system west of us. If we can steal away in one of the carts, we'll be able to make a swifter escape than we would on foot. It would also ensure that we find an exit, as I've overheard that they use those passageways to deliver diamonds to the neighboring kingdoms. Should we forge our way in any other direction, we may be doomed to wander the mountain forever." Flynn frowns thoughtfully. "The only problem would be the mining trolls lumbering about the area. It would be difficult to use those passageways without getting noticed. Even with the help of your little friend, I fear that it may not be enough for us to--"

“...Might I offer a suggestion?” A voice that belongs to neither Flynn or Willow speaks. Strangely enough, it's the voice of an ingénue, too dulcet to be a troll and too high-pitched to be Juliet August herself. Soft, rosy wisps of light stream between the cell bars like sunlight and materialize into none other than Princess Elise. Or rather the ghost of Princess Elise? Her body is completely transparent, where they can still see the texture of the mountainous wall behind her. Peaches gravitates towards her right away, their angelic glows twins in shade. The princess smile provides some warmth in the cold dark cell, her gaze immediately finding Flynn's. “You could send me as well as Willow's sweet little mouse friend.”

"Wh--" Flynn’s mouth opens and closes silently like a fish. After massaging some feeling back into his freed wrists, he rubs his fists over his eyes to ensure he isn’t hallucinating, that this isn't a dream-- that his mind isn’t playing a cruel trick on him. When the princess doesn't disappear, he also has to glance over at Willow to confirm that she sees what he sees. “Elise?”

“Yes, love. I am here. Sort of.” Elise smiles warmly, her skirt swishing as she drifts over to his side. Although her form is intangible, the concern she's feeling is as crinkles form at the corner of her big eyes. She observes him up and down, lingering on his chest. Flynn lifts his hand, as if hoping to cover himself and shield her from the sight... but it's apparent she already sees. “You’ve been through so very much…” She reaches a hand out to caress his cheek, but it phases through him. She can't touch him when she's like this. Visibly heartbroken, she shakes her head and steels herself. “We will talk later. For now, we must make haste and focus on your escape.”

“But... but how…?” Flynn is still struggling trying to catch up, his mind addled with the restless sleep of a captive. He hesitates before reaching for her hand… but it phases right through her and he wears a mirroring disappointment on his own face.

Elise tilts her head, grinning conspiratorially at Willow. Between her fingers, she reveals the shard of mirrorball that the sorceress left her with during her visit to the tower like an ace. “I simply used this. I felt a twinge in my chest that you and Juliet were close to Flynn." The princess brings her hands over her heart, over her thread. The one that hasn't been severed, all because Flynn was able to get away in time. "So I reached inward for that feeling and followed where it led. When I sought you out, Willow, I realized right away that you had been captured.” She frowns thoughtfully. “I could not bear to sit so far away and do nothing to help. I may not be a heroine of love... but I still wish to fight for it.”

"What if they see you? Elise, you will not be safe here...it's, it's--" Flynn is inarticulate with worry, his gaze darting from the slumbering troll to the ghostly princess.

"Oh, pish posh. They cannot harm me, Flynnigan." Elise blows a quiet raspberry unbefitting of a princess and boldly slips her hand through the sleeping troll's head. Flynn's jaw drops. "My physical body remains safely in my tower. They cannot touch me, nor I them. See?" There's an edge of mischief to her smile. "I must admit, I have already convinced a few of the trolls that a ghost is haunting their mountain." Her eyes burn from pink to red and she twirls, transforming herself into a dove. After flying a circle around the ceiling, she drops to the ground again and takes on a wolfish, demon-like silhouette instead-- smiling the same mischievous smile, only with sharper and longer teeth. "I can take on the form of anything I imagine like this. They shall regret making an enemy of me. For ever daring to harm you as they have."

Flynn gulps. In that moment, the shock written on his face reads more of awe and admiration than horror.

"Now then... let us focus on your escape, shall we?" Elise collapses back into the gentle princess she is, tapping a finger to her chin and pacing about the cell gracefully. "I will clear a path to the mines and, hopefully, procure a mine cart." Then the princess kneels down, addressing Willow's mouse. "And you can explore to the east, to see if there is another route they might take. It would do us well to be prepared for anything." The princess nods, her expression serious. "I will go on ahead of you." Peaches squeaks, as if she wishes to follow Elise, but the princess shakes her head. "I miss you too-- but you must stay with Flynn and Willow. Illuminate their path, Peaches, and help them search for Oberon."

"I love you." Elise smiles at Flynn. Her gaze softens, she wants nothing more than to reach out for him again, but holds herself back knowing that she won't be able to touch him. Then she nods at Willow-- her gaze soft, endeared and trusting. "Good luck, both of you. I am not sure how long I will be able to maintain this form-- so I must go now. Be safe. Look after each other." And with that, she wisps away, traveling off to the west. It isn't long after that that the mountains are filled with the clamorous echo of confused, shouting trolls as the sweet little princess scares the hell out of them all.

Flynn stares at the place where Elise once was, lost in a reverie.

The troll guarding the cell snorts, his snores indicating that he may be close to waking with all the commotion. Flynn blinks, suddenly alert at this, and then nods determinedly at Willow. He presses a finger to his lips, signaling that they should be quiet as he finagles the key around the bars of the cell and twists it into the lock. Despite that, he winces as the heavy iron door groans loudly as it swings open. The troll smacks his lips, mumbling incoherently under his breath, rubbing his eyes... it's time to go!

 

[starboob]

Willow never doubted Flynn when he spoke of the princess’s hidden edge, however it still takes her by surprise when the apparition of Elise appears before them and proceeds to show off her various forms, making it clear she intends to deliver justice to the trolls. She swallows, mirroring Flynn, and stares with his same wonderment. (As is typical when she’s around the princess, she compares her to the popstar, wondering what Dorothea might do if she ever showed her true capabilities. That she hasn’t acted out seems to be a grace more than anything else, because Willow knows, like Elise, she’s more than her looks, charm, or kind nature. Both are underestimated and overprotected. Of anyone, she always thought it would be easiest for Dorothea Birdsong to will her way, but, for reasons Willow may never understand, she continues to play along. She supposes that could be because of Cordelia Birdsong. The media tycoon is a force in her own right, Willow remembers that from their single (chance) meeting.) With the princess on their side, wanting to fight for her own future, the heroine’s resolve is bolstered, filling her with stony determination. She will see to that Flynn makes it out of here alive and to somewhere safe. He will reunite with Elise in the flesh. She will wrest that from the fates if she has to.

Now, here’s to hoping they can find Oberon, her staff, warehouse in a backpack, the hexed scissors, make sure Juliet and Lucky aren’t being held somewhere else within the mountains, and escape unscathed. No biggie. Easy peasy.

Or not.

Every muscle in her body locks when the iron door groans, essentially announcing their plans. ‘No time to freeze. Be quick.’ Willow pats her cheeks a few times to bring herself back to focus—she immediately regrets this as it sends more throbs through her face—and casts a glyph over the troll’s club, increasing the weight to a ton. The guard jerks when the weapon unceremoniously drags him down with a splitting thud. He stares down at it, perplexed, then at his bulging muscles. He doesn’t yet notice the two prisoners and Willow takes advantage, casting two more weight-bearing glyphs over his fists and then a third over his mouth, zipping it closed. The shock of the changes causes his lumbering figure to fall forward and, try as he might, he can’t do more than get his bum into the air.

“Sorry!” Willow hops over him while her mouse zooms off to the east. “Peaches, do you have a sense where Oberon is?” She isn’t sure how companion to companion connections work, but Flynn doesn’t seem to have a sense of his companion and Peaches clearly has some magic at her disposal. (Or an abundance of eagerness, she can’t quite tell what is coming through right now.) Peaches closes her eyes and shakes within her bubble as she concentrates on the other. Willow almost steps in to make sure she’s not exerting herself too much, thinking on what Flynn mentioned earlier about her connection to Elise, but the axolotl stills and opens her eyes again and points her body east where her mouse raced off.

As they head down the relatively silent corridor, Willow summons a branch from her pouch, something leftover from her brew, and enlarges it, offering it to Flynn to help him walk. They follow Peaches to an old vertical mine shaft that drops further into the mountains. The glowing companion floats down first, shrinking herself to minimize her glow, and, once she’s confirmed the shaft is clear, she floats back up and indicates for them to descend the ladder. “Are you going to need help, Flynn? Or should I say,” Willow grins, “Flynnigan.”

Once the sorceress is done with her teasing, she goes down first and acts as a spot for Flynn. At the bottom, there’s another straight path for them to follow. The deeper they travel, the quicker her heart beats. She wrings her hands together, her steps becoming shakier. Though she knows the way back and can feel her mouse above, she still frets that they’ll somehow get lost. (It makes her worry that she won’t make it back to Juliet or Lucky. Her thread trembles at the thought, taking on a grayish color. It darkens when she considers the possibility Juliet could be stuck in the torture chamber, but she has to push those thoughts from her mind. She has to focus for all their sakes.) She’s so caught up in thought that she fails to notice the murmur of voices, growing louder the nearer they get to a bend in the tunnel. Willow doesn’t notice until she bumps right into Peaches’s bubble, stifling a startled noise by putting her hand to her mouth.

She looks back to Flynn, both of them pressing themselves flat against the wall. Peaches shrinks down once more to minimize her glow and hides in one of Willow’s curls. Just around the corner, chains jangle as something moves, followed by a disgruntled, defeated huff. Like whatever is chained no longer has the energy to fight against their bonds or captors. As they inch closer to the corner, the voices become clear.

“But it’s a bear and bear meat’s good for the bones,” a voice insists. “Your bones could use it. Isn’t your family all big boned?”

“Oi, watch it or I’ll be feeding you your last hand.” The second huffs, “And it isn’t a real bear. You ever eat companion meat before? A taste most foul. Stains your soul. Not even the fates can forgive that, you oaf.”

“Oh, well look at who paid attention during lessons,” a third mocks. Willow can imagine the eye roll that complements the remark. “I still say we chance it. I’m fucking starving!”

“Patience.” This is the second voice again. “Soon as that wretch of a queen is taken care of, we’ll be supping on her flesh. Now that’ll be fine dining, my brothers.”

The others grumble and one scuffs the ground with his foot. “It still isn’t fair we have to starve and live like rats while we give the kingdoms our riches. We ought to be the kings of all Folklore.”

“That, too, will be fixed once we get that soft princess on the throne,” a new voice assures, inhaling a large breath. The smell of tobacco reaches them a few seconds later. “We just need to hold up our end of the bargain and, for that, the companion must live.”

Willow’s brow furrows together, tempted to listen for a few seconds longer, but when she hears the animal huffing again, she reminds herself of the mission. Concerning as this is, they actually need to make it out of the mountains alive to be of any use to the princess and queen.

Using a palm sized mirror that she’s stretched from her mirrorball, she carefully angles to see around the corner—not that she can see much. It’s still too dark without Peaches’s glow, but she can roughly make out six troll shapes. She narrows her eyes, shifting the angle of the mirror, trying to spot Oberon (she assumes) and catches the gleam of silvery chains wrapped around a large mass. ‘Think, WJ. You can’t go in guns blazing…’ They need a distraction, something that won’t put Flynn in danger.

She closes her hand around the piece of mirror and swipes it back onto her keychain, carefully grabbing the skateboard and turning it into her flying plank. The draft down here isn’t strong, but there’s enough movement that she can pull on it and use it to lift her plank. Mentally, she recreates what she saw in her mirror, trying to recall the general positions of troll shapes. Once certain (or as certain as she can be), she launches the plank around the corner. She hears it bounce against the wall, missing the trolls entirely, but it gets them all alert.

“What was that?”

Willow answers by sending another current under her board, approximately where she thinks the voice is in the room. It misses, but one of the trolls inhales sharply. “There! It’s a… a… flying plank?”

“Ghost!!”

Okay, well, she supposes this works. Now that she has their attention, she keeps the board low to the ground and sends it around the room, praying to the gods that the plank doesn’t get snatched up or accidentally hit Oberon. Thumps, stomps, and shuffles shake the ground while the trolls scramble, some of them noisily bumping into each other. When she’s certain she’s got them all after the plank, she casts a quick glyph over herself and Flynn, making them invisible (the spell won’t last as long without her staff, but it should be enough), and sends the board out of the enclosure and down the passage, sending them away from where they came.

The trolls, she counts six, all come out chasing after it, abandoning their post in the room. With the area clear, the duo round the bend just as Willow’s spell drops. Peaches comes out from her curls and grows, illuminating the enclosure, and revealing the companion wrapped in chains connected to the wall.

 

[ellarose]

Flynn's eyes flash with recognition seeing the flying plank from the first night, tilting his head wonderingly as it chases the trolls out of the room. (Cowards. This revenge is all the sweeter against the ones who would dare to try and eat Oberon or threaten the queen.) Though he seems to consider commenting on this, he reconsiders right away when they come upon his companion, Oberon, locked up in chains. The bear blinks slowly when it sees them, groaning softly in recognition. It's almost apologetic, as if to say that he's sorry he's too weak to stand-- let alone escape with them. As Peaches drifts closer, they discover that his brown fur matted with blood. Concernedly, the axolotl drifts down to land on him and immediately covers her fellow companion in her signature healing roses.

"Oberon..." Flynn breathes sharply, as if he's endured the same pain. (He might as well have. One look at his chest says they've both endured quite a lot during their stay in the Midnight Mountains.) He clutches his walking stick tighter as anger simmers in his blood on Oberon's behalf. However, he knows he'll be of no use to his companion just standing around stewing in his righteous fury. Peaches is doing her part and so will he. "Key... we need a key..." He mutters, checking the keyring they used to escape their cell. He hurriedly tries different ones until he finds a proper match to free Oberon from his chains. They chains clatter heavily as they're pushed off the bear and onto the ground around him, creating an incriminating echo through the mountain. "Let us hope they think that was the ghost, too." He flinches before turning his attention to Oberon. "...So you came after me. Aw, 'course you did. I'm sorry, Oberon. I--"

Oberon, already regaining some of his strength with Peaches's help, bluntly presses a paw to Flynn's mouth to silence him before he can continue. The bear huffs sassily, as if to say 'No apologies, fool.' As Oberon brings himself to stand, picking his paws up and down to test his balance against the ground, Flynn wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "...Ah. Good to see you're back to being your usual self." He nods towards Willow, wearing a small grin tinged with amusement. "As you can see, he keeps me in line. I don't know where I'd be without him."

Oberon grumbles but affectionately rubs his head against Flynn's side anyway. (Flynnigan is so cheesy.) Peaches lands on Oberon's head as if it's her personal throne, curling up contentedly between his ears like she's done a thousand times before. She appears visibly tired now, no doubt because she's exerted herself healing him-- but satisfied with her work nonetheless. It's a warm reunion-- but unfortunately, it can't last forever. They take a moment to search the area, just in case if the scissors or any of the other items they're searching for is nearby... but unfortunately, they find nothing of note.

"All right. We need to get out of here before they return." Flynn notes, leaning on his walking stick as he squints ahead into the darkness. Sensing they're safe (for now, anyway) Peaches glows a brighter, briefly illuminating a path they can take. She dims again quickly afterward, shrinking herself down to hide in Oberon's fur. There's no immediate danger present, of course, but it's clear she's not going to carelessly get them caught if she can help it. "This way?"

They travel deeper yet into the mountain, keeping silent and relying on Peaches on occasion to light the path when they come upon twists and turns. Flynn slows as a foul odor wafts towards them, his complexion paling with understanding. They come upon a room illuminated with only a single torchlight and perhaps it's for the best that most of it is hidden from them with the cover of darkness. Because from what they can see, the ground is stained with blood and other bodily fluids... and a human skeleton sits propped up against the wall, their wrists hung up in chains.

"...The torture chamber." Flynn swallows hard. While he knows a ghost isn't haunting these mountains, he's haunted by this room. "At-- at least we know Juliet isn't here." (Unless that skeleton is... no. It couldn't possibly be her.) Peaches reluctantly floats off of Oberon, illuminating one of the walls. Steel gleams like a sky of threatening stars when cast in her light as an entire stock of weapons is exposed. Daggers encrusted with fine blue jewels, swords with blades in every possibly shape or size, whips, spears and battle axes. Many of these blades haven't been cleaned in quite some time, smattered with spots of rust and dried blood... but there are some that are pristine, giving off the impression that they've been stolen recently. One of the finer blades among them has a tattered pink ribbon tied around the hilt. Flynn takes this one and it becomes apparent that that's his sword. "Willow, do you see any of your belongings among--"

The sound of heavy follows and everyone lapses into silence. Flynn ushers Willow towards the rack of spears to hide behind it. Oberon shrinks down to the size of a house cat and curls up in Willow's lap. Peaches shrinks down even smaller than that, hiding in one of her curls. (Despite the danger, Flynn looks wonderingly at Willow, seeing that the companions have both warmed up to her so fast.) Despite the impending threat coming their way, an obnoxious, pitchy song reaches their ears.

"La dee dah, I'm the king! La dee dah!" A troll sings. He prances into the torture chamber like a ballerina and twirls Willow's staff in his hand with a regal flourish. "Hear me, peons. If you dare criticize my dance moves again, I will strike you down with my royal scepter! Wahaha." The troll laughs to himself before pausing before the expansive wall of weapons. "Now... where should you go...? Hrm." He scratches his head, stumped. Apparently it's not every day that they pick up a magic staff. "We don't got any other scepters." He looks towards the rack of spears and then at the staff in his hand. Given they're both relatively stick shaped... "I guess I could put it over there?"

Flynn holds his breath, sweat beading at his brow as the troll moves closer and closer to their hiding spot. He clenches the hilt of his newly acquired sword in his fist. He's shaky, though, the weight of his blade difficult to carry in his current state. What are they going to--

"The prisoners!" A voice echoes from afar. "They've escaped!"

The approaching troll grunts with recognition, his attention snapped away from them. "...Oh, damn." Rather than set Willow's staff among the spears, the troll still holds it tightly in his fist as he thunders out of the torture chamber help search for the prisoners he almost caught. While it was a close call, it seems they're not out of the woods yet as they hear a stampede of heavy footsteps rushing down the corridor!

 

[starboob]

Willow, in all fear and desperation, holds her breath, anxiously stroking Oberon’s bristly fur as the troll draws nearer and nearer to their hiding spot. She can feel the sparks of magic coming to life the closer he gets, the citrine stone starting to glow in response to the sorceress. She closes her eyes, becoming still as a statue. Maybe if she shuts her eyes hard enough and avoids looking directly at him, he’ll disappear? (Once again, Willow James is disappointed to learn that object permanence is something she has long since acquired.) Sweat beads over her brow as she feels the magic staff calling to her, tempting her to take it from the troll. It would be easy, too. She could knock it from his hand then summon it straight into her fist. The spell is at the tips of her fingers, drawing itself in her mind's eye, but she falters hearing the alarm sound. ‘Duckity duck!’

The opportunity is lost, eyes fluttering open to see the troll dashing back into the passageway, her staff still in hand. (She cannot fault him for having taste, it is a very nice staff.) She’s on her haunches, ready to rise when the thunder of footsteps echoes through the hall, stilling her instantly. She crouches back down and puts a protective arm in front of Flynn’s chest. (She doubts he really needs to be told when to employ stealth. It’s just a force of habit from her days as Meredith's personal chauffeur.) She prays the trolls disregard the torture chamber, but her prayers go unanswered.

Two peel off from the masses and march into the chamber, both wielding heavy clubs with nails hammered through them. Willow gulps, pressing herself against the wall and exchanging a sideways glance with Flynn. She can tell he’s trying to muster all the strength he has to hold his sword firm, determined to fight for their freedom, but they both know he’s in no shape to fight. She can feel Oberon getting restless in her lap, too. She strokes his back and pulls him close as if to say, ‘Not yet.’ Now she’s praying these guards are as observant as they are bright.

“You smell that?” The turquoise one asks, nudging his fellow troll in the side. The second scoots away, bashfully murmuring, “Ah, sorry… That's the bean mash.” The first one curls his lip, backing away from his partner. “Not that, you fool! No, no—sniff past that, if you can.” He then makes a big show of inhaling deeply, though wrinkles his nose and takes another step away from his partner. He tries again, committed to his theatrics, inhaling a large gulp of air and exhaling with a sigh. “I smell fresh meat and fear.” He licks his lip, sparks dancing in his eyes as he scans the torture chamber. His gaze linger on the spear rack, peering through the weapons and locking eyes with Willow. He smirks. “Why, hello there, poppet.”

The sorceress freezes, feeling the familiar want to curl into a protective ball to shield herself from a second clubbing—one that would for sure be fatal, what with all those spikes. However, feeling her companions tense, obviously ready to do something brash and foolish in their injured states, Willow shakes her head. ‘Snap out of it, WJ. Flynnigan and Oberton need you.’

The trolls leer at them, edging closer with their clubs ready, but they are not quick enough. Willow calls upon the winds and pushes the rack into them. It crashes and breaks on their bodies, the spears clattering all over the ground, giving the prisoners enough time to reposition. Fearless Daylight isn’t on the wall so she summons one of the daggers into her hands and, in a panic, tosses it haphazardly at the trolls—completely failing. The hilt of the dagger hits the first one’s stomach, causing him to look down confusedly, then he bellows out a hearty laugh. (Ah, she’s no ducking faerie.) Her cheeks heat up, the want to die filling her as she's mocked. She doesn't even think to recoil when the trolls crosses over to her and snatches her still extended wrist, jerking her onto her tiptoes. She whimpers against the strain, reaching to paw the troll's fist. Behind her, she can sense Oberon growing in size, but she won't let him act. She can do this.

Willow casts a glyph over the troll with her free hand, executing the first idea that comes to mind. She locks eyes with him, her green eyes flashing brightly, gleaming like emeralds, and catching the troll in her hypnotic gaze. “We are not the prisoners you’re looking for.” (Leif always teased her about those mind courses, telling her she was learning Jedi mind tricks. She always resented him for that, but now here she is, essentially quoting Old Ben.)

The troll immediately lets go of Willow, his eyes glazed over as he turns to his companion. Dreamily he says, “These are not the prisoners we’re looking for.”

“What? Have you lost your last brain cell—” Before the second can try anything, Willow does the same trick to the second troll. “No,” she insists, “We’re not. We’re the ghosts of the Midnight Mountains. You’re both terrified. You’ll find the others and tell them the prisoners are three floors below.”

Both trolls starts to tremble, eyes widening in horror. The second clutches onto his partner’s arm. “We oughta get out of here, boss. The prisoners are in the forge.” The first troll nods in agreement, patting his partner’s hand comfortingly as they flee the torture chamber.

Willow stumbles backwards, her eyes flickering back to their usual green. Oberon catches her before she falls and she slumps against him, exhaling stress. Flynn’s mouth is agape, staring between the empty spot where the trolls had been and Willow. “I—how—you,” he stammers, unable to decide on a sentence. He swallows hard. “That was bloody terrifying—effective, but terrifying.” He doesn’t say this with any trace of malice, thank gods. If anything, he seems reverent.

The sorceress blushes under the praise, scratching her cheek awkwardly (similar to a certain archer—just how many of her traits has she picked up?). “Um, thanks. Just giving them the ol’ razzle dazzle.” She laughs nervously and looks back over to the corridor that’s since cleared of trolls. Though she can still hear their shouts and stomps in the distance and vaguely makes out that the hypnotized trolls have directed the masses below. She jerks her head towards the passage, deciding its best to take advantage of the empty corridors while it lasts.

They walk through the mountains, careful to avoid any area that have lingering trolls, while Willow silently laments the loss of her staff, unsure of whether or not they’ll find that troll again. She releases a sigh and Oberon, who’s been walking between Flynn and Willow, noses her palm as if to ask her what’s wrong. (Or maybe he’s telling her to hush up…) “Oh, nothing,” she whispers, deciding Oberon senses something’s on her mind. “The ballerina king had my staff—he was calling it a scepter, but it’s a magic staff. Now I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to take it back.”

Oberon rolls his eyes in a manner that suggests, ‘Oh, please. Quit the dramatics.’ He then starts to sniff the ground, the walls, the air, spinning around and walking off in the opposite direction with the assumption that the rest of the group will follow. Willow looks over at Flynn and he merely gives a silent apology. She shrugs in response and they both wordlessly follow the bear.

As they continue their search, Willow is so turned around at this point that she isn’t sure whether they’re traveling deeping into the mountains or if they’re backtracking. She decides to not think about this, hoping that Oberon’s snoot is powerful enough to find a path out if they fail to catch up with Elise or her mouse friend. They round some corners, climb up a slight incline, dive into unoccupied corridors to hide on occasion, and, eventually, Oberon starts to slow as some voices reach them.

“Oi, give that back! That’s me scepter. I won it fair and square in the draw.”

“You won it, because you’re a dirty cheat. You didn’t even knock out Dinner. I did, so it should be mine by inheritance.”

“I gave you the idea to use your club! Besides, you already got the sword and the devouring bag.”

The two voices continue to bicker amongst themselves while Willow turns to the group. (She is mildly terrified to know what her backpack has devoured in the time she’s been away. This is yet another thing she will not think about.) "I think I have an idea, but it's, uh, dangerous for those of us who are flammable." She is indeed thinking about summoning those two vacuum cleaners from her bag; the very ones she used to clean up Milfred's cottage after Lucky set her living room on fire. "We just need to give them a—"

"Give us a what?" The troll, the one who clubbed her earlier, is now standing directly behind the group, leering down at them. King ballerina is right behind the clubber, too. He's huffy, but it doesn't seem likely that he'll change allegiances. "Try to relax," the clubber continues, lifting Willow's staff above her head. "Anxiety makes the meat tough."

 

[ellarose]

The side of Juliet's skull has its own heartbeat. The aching, pulsing sensation greets her as she starts to rouse... shortly followed by the feeling of something-- no, someone-- incessantly nudging their snout against her shoulder and then her cheek with urgent gargles and grunts. Lucky? The archer manages to place the dragon as recognizable, but everything else is just beyond her reach. In her haze she struggles to piece together what happened before she fell and why she's waking up on the ground... but the pieces are all scattered and fragmented. (Willow, tangled in sundews. Juliet slashing through them and running to Lucky's side at her request...) A sharp pain shoots through her shoulder when she tries to sit up, a taunting reminder of the stab wound she's still recovering from, and she also notes the stinging in her ankle where she'd been bitten by... hm. What bit her, again?

A snake. It was a snake. When Juliet thinks back she sees them slithering at her boots, snapping at her ankles. But then the snakes warp and flicker and she's not so certain of her own memory anymore. Was it a snake? Or...? The deeper the archer digs for answers to her questions, the more viciously her head aches. It wouldn't matter so much if she wasn't concerned that the beast that put her in this state might still be lurking about somewhere, waiting to strike again. She supposes she could ask Willow for confirmation of what really happened, but...

Lucky has the hem of Juliet's skirt in her teeth, now, tugging it in attempt to get her to follow them. "What is it?" She flinches and struggles to lift herself up onto her feet, unable to fully match the dragon's energy in her current condition. (Her leg is somewhat numb-- no doubt a lingering side effect left by whatever it was that bit her. Not knowing the source is... unnerving, to say the least.) What's also unnerving is the fact that Willow is nowhere to be seen. "What happened?" Juliet surveys the area, perplexed that she slept in Nightmare's Pass of all places without something finding or eating her. It feels like she's still living in a bizarre dream, where everything is completely disorienting. Again, she tries to piece together what happened. (Surely Willow is around here somewhere?) As the reason for the dragon's restless behavior clicks into place, though, worry creeps in. She's gone. Something must have... Concern sparks to urgency in the archer's chest. When she tries to take a step forward, though, she nearly topples over. Gnats.

Lucky does appear apologetic that they have to force Juliet up and past her limits before she's fully prepared-- but that doesn't stop them from growing in size and rushing at the archer in a sweeping movement, leaning and using their wing to scoop her up onto their back. (Willow James takes number one priority in the dragon's heart.) With hardly any time to react, all she can do is hold on for dear life as the dragon determinedly follows tracks that guide them towards the Midnight Mountains. All the while, Juliet tries to push nightmarish images of all the horrifying monsters that could have taken Willow James out of her mind.

In flashes, Juliet sees the autumn leaves dyed red... the moment she locked eyes with the beast with guts in their long, sharp teeth.

Not her. Not her, too.

***​

At the first sign of danger, Oberon grows himself in size behind Willow to even their odds against their gargantuan opponents. (If this irritates his slowly healing wounds, he doesn't let it show.) He growls and snatches the staff in his claws before it can come down like a gauntlet over the sorceress's head. He wrestles it from the troll with such force that it slings her across the room and then promptly uses it to smack the ballerina king over the head. While it isn't enough to knock the troll out of the fight entirely, it does give the group a few seconds to catch their breaths.

Oberon gives the staff to Willow before shrinking himself back down with a pained grunt. The gash in his belly is bleeding again from changing his form. Peaches peeks out from the sorceress's curls concernedly, floating her bubble down towards him to help.

"Wait a second. Isn't that the princess's--" One of the trolls recognizes Peaches right away and Flynn doesn't hesitate to throw himself in front of the companions.

"Stay back!" Flynn warns, pointing his sword at the troll. The troll laughs openly at him, as if he's wielding a toothpick instead of a deadly weapon.

"Well, if it isn't the soft lad with the bow on his sword. And what, exactly, are you going to do if I don't?" The troll sneers, gesturing to Flynn's chest. He's in no condition to fight. Does he really think he stands a chance? Well, while it's true that he won't be able to brute force his way out of this one...

"This bow is a magical token from the princess. It enchants the sword." Flynn is bluffing, but the troll doesn't know that. "One touch of this blade will immediately turn your flesh to stone."

"That sounds ridiculous." The more sensible of the trolls scoffs as she brings herself back up to her feet, massaging her wrists and cracking her neck.

"Perhaps. But are you willing to chance it?" Flynn continues, gritting his teeth. "You should know better than anyone that royal magic is not to be underestimated. It's King Aurum's magic that binds you to this very mountain, is it not?" He slyly glances at Willow through his peripheries, giving her an imperceptible nod. He'll distract them while she puts her plan into action.

***​

Lucky is blazing through the Midnight Mountains like a bat out of hell, burning path through the mountains and incinerating any trolls who dare to get in their way. Nothing will stand between them and Willow James. Nothing. Having no choice but to embrace the dragon's intense plan of attack, Juliet ends up in enough hand-to-hand confrontations with her blade that she's taken a total of thirteen hands and counting. Together the duo does devastating damage, hitting them hard and fast. Rumors are beginning to spread rampantly through the Mountains. There are some who fret over ghosts... and others fretting that red hood is here-- taking vengeance and raining down hell upon their heads for her fellow heroine.

 

[starboob]

‘Damn.’ Willow curses herself for turning her back on the enemy, giving them the perfect opening to catch her off guard; giving them the perfect moment to sneak up on her and nearly knock her senseless (again). Though she’s more upset that her short-sightedness, her foolish arrogance, has led to Oberon and Flynn stepping into harm’s path on her behalf. She would have had her brains splattered across the starry walls had they not done anything, but now they’re risking re-injuring themselves—in Oberon’s case, it’s already happened.

So she needs to act fast, take the opportunity that’s been given to her.

The ballerina king, meanwhile, squints his eyes at Flynn, taking a half step away from the blade, eyeing the ribbon with suspicion. But his partner, the clubber, appears dubious still. She doesn’t move just yet, but she’s clearly considering the soft man’s words. Indeed, she does know the strength of royal magic, but is the princess of Amoria truly capable of such a wicked spell? Stories say her head is as full of cotton candy as the prince's from the skies.

She sticks her arm out before Flynn. “Show me, soft boy.”

This clearly catches Flynn off guard and he almost makes it all the more obvious by doing a double take, but stops himself before his bluff is entirely revealed. Instead he passes it off as general surprise—general surprise that someone could be so self-assured. “Well, if you insist,” he says, surprisingly cool despite his palpitating heart. He’d check on Willow’s operation if that wouldn’t give him away, but it seems he’ll have to capitalize on the troll's foolishness. (The trolls really are not that bright. This one is likely banking on him being too soft to actually damage her.)

The action is quick, calculating, and about as much as Flynn can manage in his current state. The clubber has no time to react as the blade misses her arm at the last second and cuts up into the artery under her armpit. “Oh, my apologies,” Flynn feigns, stepping back out of her reach.

Her eyes bulge with rage, clamping down on the gush while the ballerina king steps forward with his fists clasped together like a hammer. Oberon grunts out a warning, but before either can do anything, Willow taps his shoulder from behind.

“Huh?” He looks behind him, forgetting the prisoner. When he and the clubber spin around there are five Willows; two of them aiming mechanical dragons at them and two others levitating ice chests filled with her rock collection. The chests hover above mirror portals on the floor and the Willow who tapped his shoulder takes a step back, pointing up as a courtesy warning, because right above them is the exit point for those two portals. The trolls look up in unison and the two Willows levitating the chests grin at them through the portal before they release their hold on the chests, letting them hit the trolls square in the noggin. The duo crumples to the ground on impact, out cold.

Original Willow stamps her staff on the ground, causing the mirror pieces and ice chests to return to their respective places. She keeps her extras for now, knowing their odds are better with numbers. “Thanks for stalling, Flynntucket.” With that nickname, Flynn has officially become Willow’s friend. Um, if he’d even be interested in her friendship, of course.

Thankfully, there are more pressing things to think about than Flynn secretly hating every second he’s spending with Willow as more screams filter through the corridor, coming from every direction. She catches bits of “—osts is chasing me—help!” and “—agon!” and “—ood is here, save yourselves!” and wonders what exactly Elise has gotten up to and how much territory she’s been able to cover.

“I thought the princess was only checking out the west side of the mountains, where the bulk of the mine is?” All five Willows turn to Flynn, who has also caught bits and pieces of the screams and can also tell the panic is no longer concentrated in one area. He furrows his brows together. “Perhaps it is your flying plank?”

Somehow she doubts that, but they agree on this for now and continue to make their way through the various passages, making guesses, mostly, of where freedom could possibly be. With the chaos running through the mountains, they’re hardly noticed by the trolls. On one occasion, where there’s no place for them to hide, a group of trolls straight up runs right past them. One troll even tells them to avoid the area as the malevolents are running rampant. Willow questions the plural use of malevolents, when there should only be one, but is too relieved that the troll hasn’t noticed who she is talking to that she thanks her and they continue on their way.

At another point in the mountains, they run back into Willow’s friend (mouse) and confirm that eastward only leads deeper into the earth, not out of it. Her mouse friend is also how they’re able to navigate themselves back to the minecart tracks with some assurance that the trolls won’t bother them too much in their current state of chaos. Plus, with the Willows all armed with their Fearless Daylights and two with mechanical dragons, and Original Willow reunited with her staff, their odds are better than before. (She only privately hopes this goes well, because, if not, then she has only led Flynn, Oberon, and Peaches into the hands of their captors. She’s got to got this.) Willow is determined to get Flynn, Oberon, and Peaches to safety. She’s determined to reunite with Lucky and Juliet both.

And it’s this brief, fleeting thought of Juliet that ignites their thread with a sunshine yellow light, imperceptible to those who don’t have special eyes like Milfred and Soyfred or those who are not Willow and Juliet. It’s bright, fierce, and she catches it zinging down their thread, pulling it taut, going through one of the starry walls. ‘What?’ That question repeats itself when she catches a whiff of dragon fire a second later. ‘Double what??’

She wordlessly instructs the Willows wielding mechanical dragons to set them to vacuum, in case they run into such flames, then tries to figure out where her string might be leading, guessing that it has to be pulling her to Juliet and Lucky’s slumbering position. Without explaining, she takes them zigzagging through the mountains, trying to figure out how to get out of this maze and back to her companions. And it seems, the closer she gets to finding an exit the thicker the air becomes with smoke and heat.

Suddenly, she skids to a halt. Her four Willows bump into her then Flynn, Oberon, and Peaches follow, causing a domino effect of people, extras, and companions all toppling on top of Original Willow. From down the passageway, brilliant white eyes gleam in the dark and orange flames faintly illuminate a dragon. A dragon with antlers.

Willow is just picking herself up when Lucky James tackles her back to the ground, trilling gleefully and nuzzling into her cheek affectionately. “Lucky duck!” They don’t even object to the loathed nickname, far too happy to see their companion again. It’s hard for Willow to make out much else beyond her dragon, but she catches the all too familiar flare of a red hood. Clutching Lucky tightly, she peers over them, gasping. “Juliet!”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet's attention meanders away from the fight for a moment at the sound of her name (it's her) but no more than that as she dips down to dodge the enraged troll who's swinging his bejeweled axe towards her. (There's a sunshine-warm tugging in her chest and the tension knotted in her shoulders loosens with relief that Willow is near, but keeping her head on her shoulders takes priority.) This troll is particularly determined to end her, too, rambling on about his dear old grandfather's hand (Or was it... was it his mother's hand? Juliet already forgot.) and something, something, he swore revenge against her to avenge his family. Stories like these start blending together after a while, she can't be bothered to keep up with them all.

It's not as though the archer runs amok specifically targeting trolls for no reason. It's really quite simple. If they left Juliet alone, she would leave them alone. Unfortunately, they never seem to learn the lesson she's been trying to teach all this time-- that if they wish to keep their hands, they should keep their hands to themselves.

This was life advice imparted to her by Lara's drunken huntress friends in a tavern one night when Juliet was eight. They said if anyone ever dares to touch her without her consent, she should cut their hands off. She took this to heart. (It just so happened that her methods aligned with Millicent's enthusiasm for... um, hand-made decorations.) Unfortunately, she wasn't able to get away with this so easily once her life in Amoria began. She nearly lopped off the hand of one of the 'guards in training' for slipping his hands below her waistline during one of her first dances at the palace, landing herself in quite a bit of trouble. (...Nearly drove the palace cooks mad, sneaking into the kitchen to steal knives and pastries alike.) It took a particularly bold man to ask Juliet August to dance after that. Many of the men were not and for a while, they left her alone. She quite liked it that way.

While Lucky's plan of attack is destructive, she doesn't consider it entirely undeserved... the trolls struck first the moment they kidnapped Willow James. (And Flynn, she supposes.) They shouldn't have done that.

"And then I will finally fulfill my destin--" Oh. Is he still going on about this? Juliet sighs, dodging left and then dodging right. She almost yawns. Tiring of this one-sided back and forth, she twists and fakes left before slashing clean through her attacker's wrist. The troll's hand and axe land on the ground next to her boot and he gazes down at her in pained shock. (...He knows what she's about. What did he think was going to happen? Really.) Betrayal, anger, hurt, it all works their way across his face. Wisely deciding he would rather keep his other hand than lose them both at once, he turns and runs the other way.

Once that's finished and a brief surveil of the area tells her there are no other trolls in their vicinity, Juliet turns her attention towards Willow. Or rather, Willow and Flynn and the companions. "...We've come to help." She explains, scratching her cheek awkwardly. (Although it seems rather than helping, they've just set everything on fire.) "Are you alright?" From a glance it seems that Willow's been doing fairly well on her own. Still, the archer takes another second to check the sorceress up and down to ensure that she hasn't sustained any severe injuries. Good. She's all right.. But when her gaze shifts over to Flynn, even she can't hide the way she flinches in sympathy. (Before he can catch her staring, though, she quickly snaps her attention back to Willow. He's not going to catch her caring. Not that she... cares.)

Juliet doesn't have to ask. She knows just from looking at them that Willow helped Flynn break free of his prison. (It hardly surprises her, either-- she can only imagine the numerous spells the sorceress must have for opening locked doors. Since meeting her and visiting Evermore, it seems like there truly are spells for everything.) Still, her brown eyes warm-- because regardless of everything magic itself is capable of, she can acknowledge through her own toasty toasty experiences the effort and skill it takes to wield it. It also takes a certain amount of courage to venture out and face opponents like these trolls-- much less attempt to navigate the dark passageways winding through the mountains. Willow stopped cowering long ago. She's made her efforts to contribute and now she's even leading her own escape effort through the Midnight Mountains.

"This must be your companion. Lucky, right?" Flynn says conversationally, his eyes big with childlike awe seeing the dragon. He lifts his hand towards Lucky, pausing before touching them to ensure it's all right for him to do so first. (Peaches also emerges excitedly, floating in tiny whimsical circles around the dragon's ears.) "Hello there." He nods at Juliet, sensing her avoidance but refusing to ignore her in spite of that. "Juliet. It's good to see you." A flash of concern crosses over his face when he notices something. "Where's Grace?"

"We should go. We can talk after we escape this place." Juliet suggests curtly. While it is in part to avoid talking to Flynn, it's also to ensure they don't encounter any more trolls. Before long, reinforcements will surely--

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Damn. The silhouette of two trolls appear in the smoke. As they draw closer and emerge from it. The larger of the two trolls is snapping a pair of ornate scissors in her hand, flashing a threatening silver. Hexed scissors. She smirks, glancing between Juliet and Willow.

"Uh, Stoney? What do we have here?" The smaller troll at her side squints, scratching his head confusedly. "I don't see it."

"That's a bright, shiny thread you got there. Who'd've thought that following it would lead me to not one, but two heroines?" Stoney snaps the scissors again, ignoring her companion completely. "It'd be a real shame if someone were to cut it."

Flynn, automatically assuming the troll is talking about his thread, presses his hands protectively over his chest and glares at the trolls.

"But if you cut the prisoner's ties to the princess, we won't be able to--" The smaller troll seems to think the same way, but he's promptly cut off with an elbow jabbed into his side.

"I'm not talking about him, you dunce! I'm talking..." Stoney's gaze fixes on Willow and Juliet. "About them. Their thread."

Flynn follows her gaze, his jaw dropping with understanding as he puts it together for himself. (While he's shocked to the point of silence, at least he's quicker on the uptake than Stoney's companion, who asks to have it all spelled out for him.) His eyes dart from Willow to Juliet as he processes this information. "You two are...?"

"How about we strike a deal? Leave the princess bait with us and we'll let you two go free." Stoney stomps forward, aiming the blades of the scissors towards their thread. "Refuse and I'll cut your thread in half!"

 

[starboob]

Lucky nods, affirming Juliet’s claim that they came to help. Everything just seems on fire to Willow, but she doesn’t comment on this. This is her dragon’s way of helping and she’s guessing that Juliet would have done something more sneaky-sneaky, had she been in charge. But a worried companion is a worried companion with a mind and will of their own. Lucky James especially.

Willow pulls herself up to her feet, still clutching her dragon as they perk upon seeing their newest friend, Peaches. She’s almost too focused on Juliet that she doesn’t immediately recognize the awkward tension between Juliet and Flynn—namely, the archer’s open avoidance. Most of her thoughts are occupied by imagining an alternate ending to this scenario. One where Juliet’s lips end up on her lips, maybe. And they’re kissing. (Mouth kissing.)

‘Wait are those—’ The two hulking silhouettes that step through the smoke snap her attention away from her fantasies, gaze locked on the gleaming object in the bigger one’s hand. Hexed scissors. The sorceress is so focused on them that she almost misses the threat to their thread, almost misses that Stoney can see their invisible string. She only puts it together when their thread trembles, like it’s been plucked, as if reacting to the magic that’s powerful enough to cut threads.

In the back of Willow’s mind, images of the be-antlered being with its sharp appendages flood her, reminding her that that entity hadn’t been able to cut their thread. The scissors closed over it, but their thread remained unaffected, instead burning away the entity’s hand and causing them to dissolve. Could their thread be invincible to this magic?

Perhaps, but it’s not a theory Willow is particularly interested in testing. Their thread is sacred and she would never risk it. And she most certainly wouldn’t trade it for a promise that is sure to be broken in seconds. More than that, she’s a heroine and she would not jeopardize her company for herself.

Through her peripheries, she can make out Flynn’s astonishment and vaguely registers his question—whether there is disdain or disapproval in his tone, she does not know. Quite frankly, this is not the time to be worrying about his opinions.

Lucky squirms out of Willow’s arms and takes their perch on her shoulder, white flames rolling off their tongue in warning. But with the scissors already hovering over their taut thread, the dragon doesn’t risk anything more than that (and Willow’s thankful for that). Beads of sweat drip down her head, slicking down her back as they’re held at the troll’s mercy, one she doesn’t think will last. One she doesn’t trust.

The urge to cry overwhelms the romantic, fearing the worst as despair washes over. She swallows the lump in her throat and fights back the emotion. ‘I’m not losing my thread. I’m not giving Flynn up.’

But Flynn’s not on the same page. Before she can speak up, try her hand at a negotiation, he steps in front of the heroines, throwing down the keys, his weapon, his walking stick, and holding his hands up in surrender. Peaches squeaks and tries to float towards him, but Oberon holds her bubble between his paws, his eyes reflecting sorrowful understanding.

“There need not be any more threads cut.” His tone is even, but she can tell he’s barely holding back the breaks, having been so close to freedom, knowing exactly what he’ll have to endure for this attempt. “I willingly surrender myself to you on the condition the heroines are allowed to leave unscathed and their thread intact.”

Stoney smirks along with her partner. She doesn’t pull the scissors back just yet, however, instead gesturing for her companion to check the prisoner for any other weapons—as if he could really be hiding anything more in those soiled tatters. Satisfied he’s clean, the troll pulls out a length of rope from his belt and forces Flynn around to bind him.

His eyes meet Willow’s, not an ounce of blame in them. That somehow makes it worse. ‘No. No. This can’t be happening—we’re… we’re the heroes? We're supposed to win.’ She doesn’t dare look at Juliet, worrying her fellow heroine might be disappointed in her for not being better or faster or stronger. Logically, she knows Juliet won’t harbor ill feelings towards her, but her disappointment ripples through her and shakes through every solid foundation that she has.

“And the bear,” Stoney indicates with her chin. “Hand over the companion.”

At this, Flynn struggles, eyes widening with betrayal. “That was not part of the—”

He’s smacked across the mouth by the troll binding him. “Quiet, you. None of yous are in a position to negotiate. Give us the bear or the deal’s off.”

Lucky growls on her shoulder, barely withholding the urge to raze this entire mountain range, but still refuses to move just yet. Especially when Stoney inches the scissors closer to their thread, once more causing it to shiver. ‘If I could just…’

Oberon nudges Willow’s side, holding up Peaches’s bubble, the axolotl pressing against the front, obviously trying to do something about this situation. Just like his companion, the bear doesn’t show a trace of malice or disappointment. She takes the bubble dejectedly, trying to rapidly comb through every possible idea that might work, but what can she even do?

“Aw, look,” Stoney nudges her partner, pointing at Willow’s teary eyes. “The wittle heroine is going to cry!”

Lucky’s claws press into Willow’s shoulder, their patience wearing dangerously. No one bullies Willow James and gets away with it. It seems they’re about to risk something brash, but then they lock eyes with a bright pair of red ones behind the two trolls. They tilt their head curiously, the flames dying as a new emotion takes root. Willow also notices these eyes and instinctively takes a step back, remembering her encounters with the Lightless—though she can tell this is not a Lightless.

Stoney notices the distraction, lifting a brow. Under the two eyes, a familiar smile breaks through, but when the trolls turn, the smile morphs into one full of needles. The trolls aren’t even given the chance to scream. In an instant, it’s like the lights go out—Elise’s shadow form swallows as much of the corridor as possible, plunging them into darkness. Not even their thread can be seen. Willow jerks herself away from where the scissors last were, holding onto the thread to find her way to Juliet.

In the dark she can hear a struggle. Lucky screeching, their mouth snapping and biting; Oberon roaring, their claws tearing into something wet. The trolls yelling and shouting among themselves. Fists smacking against flesh. (Was that a bone snapping? Ahh, hopefully not Flynn's, right?)

It's pure and utter chaos.

 

[ellarose]

"Hear me, trolls! This is your first warning. No longer shall we sit idly by and watch the devastation those cursed blades wreak. The fates will strike down all those arrogant enough to think they can tamper with it!" Elise puts on a spooky voice reminiscent of a certain little witch of the wood, theatrical and imperious to the point that none of the trolls would ever be able to associate it with the princess of Amoria. (Only those few who know her well enough would be capable of piecing it all together.) "Especially those who endanger the kingdoms precious heroines. They fight for love. For everyone." The effect is amplified by the way it echoes through the mountains around them. "Remember that."

Flynn knows. Elise knows, too. This realization knocks into Juliet around the same time that Willow smacks into her chest by following their thread in the dark. (She might have tripped over a nearby rock into her, though it's difficult to tell in the darkness. Because now the archer is essentially hugging her as she holds her steady against her.) While it's taking her eyes a while to adjust-- much longer than the companions, who have already broken into fighting-- she finds herself thankful for the cover of darkness if only to cover up the blush on her cheeks. (Elise talking about them this way combined with Willow James...)

Juliet twists their positions around instinctually to break out of her trance, ensuring she's the one closest to the fighting. Lucky James already has them both covered, though, as no harm comes to either them in the chaos. They're fiercely protective of Willow and especially so after this incident. Now the trolls will have to go through them to get to the sorceress. Juliet uses the precious time Lucky affords them fixing her gaze on different points in the area, willing her sight to adjust so that she can better gauge the situation and help if need be. She focuses on her other senses, mapping out where everyone is in their vicinity.

"And have you thought that perhaps the soft, kindhearted princess of Amoria would be more sympathetic to your cause if you left her soul mate unharmed?" Elise continues, holding her act together but weaving in the suggestions regardless that she might be willing to help someday. The princess had always spoken on making monumental changes as queen. At this shift in conversation, the sounds of the fighting around them seem to quiet and slow. "A word of advice. Break Elise Cendrillon's heart and you will make an enemy of her... but should you find your way into her heart instead, she will help you."

Juliet blinks confusedly at this. What is she thinking? Is Elise herself planting seeds that the trolls could manipulate her into doing what they want...? Swaying them with a plan from a seemingly omnipotent, all-knowing being beyond their comprehension? She'll be well-prepared to navigate whatever comes next, knowing what she knows... this is her way of creating another option for the trolls, an attempt to forge Flynn's way out of these mountains.

Rather than spend any more time dwelling on this, Juliet's ears are sharply attuned to the sound of something being dropped to the starry ground. A clattering, too light to be a dagger or sword of any sort. The scissors. A sliver of silver gleams faintly in the limited light they have. The archer's heart thumps once before she unhesitatingly dives for them, snatching them up into her hands and quickly rolling off to the side just as Stoney slams into the ground after her-- trying and failing to tackle her for them. (Stoney curses about red hood under her breath, the rumors about her being quick, and she can't help but feel the slightest twinge of pride in her chest. In the darkness, it seems like the troll is clutching her arm. Must've been an injury she she sustained... from Oberon, maybe?) Juliet nimbly brings herself back up to her feet and by that point, Lucky James is already there and poised to defend her from Stoney.

This is likely a good thing, as Juliet finds out that holding the scissors is... an overwhelming experience. The second she acknowledges them in her hands, they burn right through her gloves down to her skin, their hexed energy sending threatening, uncomfortable zings through her arms. These shivers run along the thread tying her to Willow and she wonders if the sorceress can feel this needling sensation in her own heart. 'You don't need to go back there.' Juliet coaxes herself. 'Focus on what's right in front of you.' Her heart is pounding. It takes all of her concentration not to think about that night.

When Juliet closes her eyes, a spiderweb of glowing threads crackles and blazes to life under her eyelids. When she opens her eyes again, everything is sparkling. She can see the pinkish red thread sticking out of Flynn's chest. (It illuminates him, lying in an unconscious heap on the ground. His chest still rises and falls, indicating that he's still breathing. Thank goodness. Peaches is hovering over him, having made it to his side at some point during all the chaos.) Oberon is lying on the ground nearby... still conscious and breathing, but bleeding. A new, fresh wound crosses the one that was already there in a jagged 'x' shape. She flinches with sympathy at the sight. It's going to take him quite a while to heal from that.

Juliet can also see the threads of the trolls, disappearing into the mountains. They're all different colors. Stoney's is a soft blue. The other troll has a greenish yellow shade. The other troll is also unconscious, having been taken out of the fight by Lucky when he tried to attack them. Stoney, meanwhile, clutches her injured arm and seethes from the place where Lucky pushed her away from Juliet and Willow.

...And then there's their thread.

While it's true that Juliet could always see their thread, now it shines brighter than ever before. It's golden, like daylight. (By comparison, it also looks thicker than the other threads? Or perhaps that's because the glow itself is bolder, somehow. She's not sure if it has this effect because it's her own thread, or if it's something else...) What does it mean? (She supposes Stoney did say it's the brightest one she's seen, that she was able to follow it to them.) The more she dwells on it, a slightly grayish color seeps from her side, muddying the color a bit. Because she's cursed. Though it could be the memories. The scissors... after all this time, she's holding them in her hands. Feeling the hexed energy working its way through her veins. (Did she feel this way back then? Did it hurt like this?) It's an unpleasant but charged feeling, knowing that with these scissors she wields the power to undo what fate itself has created.

Not that she intends to. Not this way. Juliet's every instinct vehemently screams against it. She wants nothing more than to lock them in a box along with her memories and bury them deep beneath the ground so she never has to experience any of this again.

"My work here..." Elise's voice gradually becomes fainter and fainter. Her magic must be fading. "Is done."

The darkness fades along with the princess's presence and two empty mine carts roll towards the group like an invitation.

 

[starboob]

Willow’s cheeks are still pink from being held by Juliet with the arms. It wasn’t a hug, she knows this. It wasn’t a real hug anyway. She just caught her to prevent her from adding yet another bruise to her face. That’s it. It was practical. It was everything. Her heart still hasn’t fully recovered, squeezing each time she recalls the memory of her arms around her, each time she stills just to feel the chill left in the absence of the archer’s warmth.

‘I am so desperate.’ She sinks at this thought, knowing the truth behind it and hating it. It would be different if Juliet’s affections were more obvious, but aside from the occasional blush, she has no sense of whether or not her companion truly feels as strongly as she does. Or is at least as interested as she is in exploring the potential their thread has offered them. Willow doesn’t want to force Juliet into something just because the fates have deemed it so. It would not be fair to either of them. (It would be like the anchor that sunk her own mother and so many others like her. Those who believe in blind faith.) Of course she does appreciate Juliet’s companionship and if that is all they are meant to be, then she will be grateful for it. From Juliet, she’s learned so much, grown so much, and genuinely enjoys the secret parts of the archer that occasionally slip through her mask—the mischievous one who schemes with her and the playful one that devises games under the guise of training. The sneaky one who steals strawberries from her plate... ‘I am so gay.’

She groans internally just as Lucky presses against her leg, trying to grab her attention. They flap their wings impatiently when Willow finally looks down at them and lifts their little arms to indicate that they want up. She smiles at her companion, scooping them into her arms and assessing them for any damage. Satisfied that they’ve only sustained minor injuries, she surveys the damage done in her momentary mental retreat, finally noticing the hexed scissors in Juliet’s hand and her look of consternation. Frowning, she places Lucky onto her shoulder and approaches her fellow heroine, placing her hand on Juliet’s arm. “You okay?”

Willow doesn’t dare touch the scissors. Even with this close proximity, she can feel the wafts of vile magic trying to pluck her heartstrings. She can’t imagine what Juliet might be feeling beneath her mask. “Here, let me.” She magics on a pair of gloves made of Lucky’s scales and gently takes the scissors from Juliet. She then summons a special case—it looks like nothing more than a decorative wooden box with some intricate carvings on the outside—designed to contain powerful magical objects and places them inside. Waving her staff over it, a locking glyph appears and seals it. She hands it back to Juliet, patting the top. “Safe and sound. We can inspect these later, but this box should keep them safe even if we somehow lose it.”

Looking back over the rest of their party, her frown deepens seeing Flynn and Oberon on the ground, knowing they pushed themselves too hard and blaming herself for not keeping them safe. She is thankful for Elise’s intervention, because she isn’t sure what would have happened had she not stepped in when she did. She sighs, then goes over to help.

Lucky, Willow, and Juliet all help haul Flynn and Oberon into the mine carts, Flynn in the back and Oberon in the front. Juliet takes to the front, along with Lucky, and Willow ends up in the back with Peaches. Once the group is settled, Lucky perches on the front cart, spreads out their wings, and Willow is able to help them sail forward on a gust of wind.

As they ride out of the mountains, she looks over Flynn’s injuries and applies palm balm and cooling bandages over them. Though one look at his wrist’s awkward angle tells her that he’s going to need more than palm balm to make a full recovery. While she remembers something grandma Juniper once told her about resetting a broken bone, she’s not confident enough to try anything and risk it healing improperly. Peaches, also, seems to be maxed out and her bubble rests on Flynn’s chest as she sleeps. Otherwise, she's sure the axolotl would have done something for his wrist.

By the time they're out of the mountains, it’s already dusk and seems to rapidly be getting darker. Juliet advises that they find some place to camp before nightfall. Since Lucky is too tired to fly them to any of the safety points on Juliet’s map, especially with two extra passengers, they find a cave to hide in. (Lucky takes care of scaring out any creatures that might have been lurking within.) Willow reinforces the entrance with the same protective spells she used on Juliet and Lucky earlier and still manages to jump every time a breeze or squirrel rustles through the nearby bushes.

With that settled, the sorceress goes to check on Oberon’s injuries. She cleans them, applies some balm around the edges, and then wraps the bear in bandages, kissing them for good measure. She checks in on Flynn, who is still passed out, and still waffles over what to do with his wrist. She settles on applying some ice to reduce the swelling and hopes that Milfred (or Soy) knows about broken joints. (In all honesty, that might be the wolf’s area of expertise considering her condition. The sound of her bones cracking when she caught her shifting back to her human form still haunts her.)

Dinner is breakfast leftovers from earlier in the morning (or yesterday? Willow’s sense of time is off after her time in the Midnight Mountains), reheated over the fire Willow insisted that she make to show off her fire starting capabilities. Flynn comes around as the smell of reheated food reaches him. Even the companions stir from their half-slumber.

Seeing Flynn struggle with his food, Willow takes pity on him and cuts it up for him before she returns to her place next Juliet, gently leaning against her shoulder. She offers her unfinished plate to Juliet and almost spills it over her when a particularly startling owl whooos from outside. (Lucky tries to mimic the noise, but it comes out as a trill and ultimately scares off the owl.) Her eyes are drooping, her body slowly reminding her of the day's events through muscle aches. Through a yawn, she asks, “Should we sleep in shifts tonight? To be..." She yawns again. "To be extra safe?”

"I can take first watch, if you two need your rest?" Flynn offers, rubbing his chest where his thread is, obviously warmed seeing the heroines; perhaps missing Elise, perhaps happy Juliet has someone like Willow at the end of her thread. Most likely both. He quickly looks away when he realizes he's staring. "You've done so much for me... I really cannot thank you two enough." He looks meaningfully at Juliet, but whatever he might want to say, he is nowhere near courageous enough to say it. Instead he says, "Elise will be as grateful as I, perhaps more so. If you have some parchment and something to write with, I'd like to leave you with a letter to give to her. Would that be too much to ask?"

 

[ellarose]

"You should sleep." Flynn suggests two hours later, setting the quill he borrowed aside as he finishes penning his letter to the princess. His tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on folding (or rather trying and failing to fold) it with one hand. It's a mess, completely lopsided. Although he isn't looking directly at her, he can sense that Juliet is still awake and watching him carefully across the campfire. "You can trust me, Juliet. I know I won't be of much help to you in a fight right now... but I'm fully capable of waking you at the first sign of trouble."

"I'm not tired." Juliet insists. (It's only half a lie. She's a little tired. Not enough to drift peacefully off to sleep the way Willow has, with her head propped on her shoulder. Her curls are soft and tickle her neck, but the archer doesn't dare move or risk waking her. The evening air is cold and she's warm against her. It's... practical. Very practical. Besides, she's had a long day.) The archer slept plenty earlier thanks to the... snake bite? Or the... no. Her memories are still a blur. She hasn't yet had the opportunity to confirm what actually happened with the sorceress and doesn't want to ask such questions in front of Flynn Everson. (No one is going to catch her in that state again, disoriented and doubting her own reality... especially not a man. Never again is she giving them reason to believe she's gone mad.) "...And I don't trust you."

"You don't." Flynn repeats, crestfallen and resembling a kicked puppy. (Surely he already knows this. Regardless, he looks hurt. hearing it from her directly.) Juliet averts her gaze. He's not going to sway her that easily. "I--" He hesitates, perhaps wanting to breach the subject at last knowing that Juliet can't avoid it-- but not exactly knowing how. "You know, I--" He bites his lip. "...I brought you home to keep you safe."

Juliet narrows her eyes, glaring into the fire. He doesn't understand. Perhaps he never will unless she tells him... and she wonders if it will alleviate a weight from her shoulders if she does, similarly to the morning she stormed out of the August household. It takes a few minutes of silent deliberation before she finds the words to speak.

"You were treated like a hero when you brought me back from the dead." Juliet clenches her fists, nails biting into her palms. She can't help but resent him for it. Having to explain it, to put her own shameful experience into words. "Me, though? I was locked away and treated like a delusional child." All she can do is keep her voice quiet and level. Show that she's in control now. To an extent, she understands Flynn acted with the intent to keep her safe. He is a good person. But he acted like he knew what was best for her when he didn't know anything at all. Therein lies the issue. She outsmarted a killer and survived in the wood for years. No one acknowledged that. No one believed in her. Not until...

(Someone believed in her... until they didn't.)

Juliet remembers all her wasted breath, fighting to tell her side of the story... only to watch as everyone turned to Flynn instead, believing they would receive the truth from him. It isn't necessarily his fault how people reacted, she knows, but there's a bitterness in her that says he could've said more. Or he could have simply believed her in the first place.

"If you had truly acted with my safety in mind, you would have respected my wishes when I told you that I couldn't go back." Juliet narrows her eyes. "You didn't trust me. And because you didn't trust me, no one did." It started with him. Flynn flinches and she can see he's taking this hard, taking this to heart. What he's experiencing now is only a small jab compared to what she experienced back then. There's a long stretch of silence between them, the flames crackling as they dance and spark in the dark cave.

"I'm sorry, Juliet." Flynn starts with an apology instead of an excuse. Juliet blinks once. Twice. Incredulous. Something stubborn and tightly wound in her loosens... and when she realizes this, she tightens it again to keep herself from slipping too soon. (He... apologized?) "Your family scarcely allowed visits. People talked... people always talk. But I had no idea what you were really going through." He presses his uninjured hand over his chest. "Finding you there... you were still under the effects of a vile spell. You were insisting--" He seems to hesitate, glancing at Willow for a second before turning his attention back on Juliet. "You were insisting that I leave you with the witch of the wood. I couldn't bring you back to your tormentor."

"The witch of the wood was not my tormentor." Juliet fumes, immediately defensive on Millie's behalf. Whatever had loosened in her is immediately tight again. She catches herself from raising her voice, acutely aware of Willow sleeping against her. "It was Sefarina De Winter."

The shadows cast by the flames in the cave stretch longer and wider. Juliet catches a single eye blinking open in the darkness and just as quickly closing to disappear. She twists her gaze away from it, suppressing a shudder. Flynn doesn't see it, does he? No... of course he wouldn't.

"That's..." Flynn begins, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Gagged and at a loss. "Juliet, Sefarina De Winter..." Don't say it. Don't say it. "That murderess was executed for her crimes. For what she... tried to do to you." He shakes his head. She can tell he's trying to see her side and struggling to cope with whatever reality he knows to be real. "We all saw it."

"Then what you saw was a lie." Juliet insists, a familiar heat rising to her cheeks. (She shouldn't have brought it up. She shouldn't have, but...) "She's like King Cayman, Flynn. She can't die." Or at least... she thinks? (What if this is the same as the snakes earlier? Is it... in her head? She's been doubted so many times that she's not sure she can trust her own story anymore. It's-- frightening. Isolating.) Even if she can't trust her memories of Sefarina, she knows that she can trust Millie. "Regardless of what you believe to be true, my tormentor was not the witch of the wood. She's my... my friend." She blushes as this admission leaves her lips without her permission. "I knew her when we were kids, before I knew you or Elise. She wouldn't do that to me."

Flynn watches her expression closely before softening and nodding. "...Okay." He says. "I trust you, Juliet."

The tightness in Juliet's chest loosens a little more. Not all the way... but it's a start.

"...Good. Because you'll be taking refuge with her while Willow and I make our return to Amoria for the tournament." Juliet notes with a nod. "If she allows you to stay, anyway. She hates you."

Flynn puffs out a breath and runs his hand through his sandy hair, immediately nervous. Overwhelmed. As he should be. "Like you do."

"...No. I don't hate you. I think I did once, but not anymore." Juliet tilts her head, genuinely considering it and completely missing the way Flynn melts at her words. He looks between her and Willow, silently piecing something together... and keeping whatever he discovers to himself. When the archer finally notices the dopey look on his face, she frowns stubbornly. "I strongly dislike you."

"I'll take it." Flynn contrasts her frown with a good-natured smile. That annoying one that wins everyone over.

"I changed my mind. I hate you again." Juliet insists, sticking her lower lip out. "From the bottom of my heart."

"Juliet." Flynn says her name in a way that's so familiar it brushes against memories she'd long since pushed from her mind. Their days of sparring in secret. Leaving books of monsters out for her to read. The afternoons he entertained Elise's desires to play dress up while she snacked in the corner. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh behind his hand so he doesn't wake Willow.

"You should be warned, the witch of the wood really hates you."

"All right, I hear you. I'll be on my best behavior."

"No, you do not understand." Juliet continues, "She really, truly hates you. And she is not so easily won over."

"Okay."

"You'll be fortunate if she doesn't make jewelry with your bones."

"O--okay, Juliet. I get it."

"You don't."

"Goodnight, Juliet." Flynn puts an end to the back and forth, rolling over to sleep and deciding for the both of them that Juliet's too stubborn to sleep first. "Wake me for second watch, okay?"

It's long after, when Juliet's sure from the sound of Flynn's breathing that he's truly asleep when she replies with a quiet, "...Goodnight."

 

[starboob]

Willow’s dreams are weird as ever—she has no clue where they come from or why, but she sees flashes of Sabrina chasing Juliet, arrows and bullets exchanged between them. Somehow they lose their weapons and end up locked in a fierce tangle. Juliet hammers her fist into Sabrina’s side. Sabrina claws at Juliet’s face. As the archer breaks the other woman’s ribs, Sabrina’s form cracks and stretches, scales layer over her skin as she shifts into a black anaconda. She wraps her thick, muscled body around the archer, pinning her arms to her sides, squeezing her without relent. Just when it seems that Juliet is about to go under, the snake’s head is cut off from behind. It falls off to the side, revealing Flynn. He pulls back from his strike and dashes forward to pull Juliet from the snake’s corpse.

She wakes up a second after that, jerking forward. She scrambles around, not recognizing where she is, forgetting the shelter they managed to find. Lucky grumbles over the noise their companion is making, flicking their tail over her ankle to get her to quiet down. The dragon puts her mind at ease, then she finds Juliet, the morning sun catching her in magnificent way it always does. The way that always makes Willow smile. She forgets about her dream. “Morning, sunshine.”

Though despite the pleasant glow of sun around Juliet, she looks as though she has not slept and knowing that she was never woken up to take watch, she has a sneaking suspicion that she refused to sleep. It frustrates her that she didn’t sleep. It frustrates her that she didn’t wake Willow or Flynn. Is she ever going to give her a chance? Even if she knows how tired she had been yesterday after all the action and casting, even if she knows that might have left her susceptible to drifting during her watch, she wishes Juliet at least made the effort to split the work between them. ‘She doesn’t trust me.’

‘Well, why would she? You got yourself captured.’ This jabs at a bruise that’s never quite healed. After everything yesterday, she knows what she has to do. She has to do something big. Something unforgettable. Something that will force Juliet August to realize that she can rely on Willow James as her equal, not the deadweight she has to lug around and look after.

But before that, this heroine needs her breakfast (the most important meal of the day). It’s breakfast leftovers again for the party and, surprisingly, they manage to finish them off faster than Willow would have anticipated. She had been worried they would spoil or get too stale before they could finish them, but, considering the psychic’s knack for knowing everything, she’s beginning to think Sawyer had Tiger Lily Billy make so much on purpose, most likely foreseeing the need to feed a hungry archer, a man, a bear, and a dragon and planning accordingly. ‘Yeah, that’s definitely what happened.’

Breakfast is quiet, but Willow isn't suspect of anything amiss and figures that it must be sleep clinging to everyone’s brains. But as they clean up the campsite and head out onto the road, the weirdness between Juliet and Flynn is like a haunting. It’s not hostile. It’s just there. Willow can’t even think of any safe topics to bring up to diffuse the tension. Every time she tries, her mouth gets all dry and she starts to shake. At least the trip to Milfred’s shouldn’t take too long, right?

Well…

It takes them two days to get to Milfred of the wood’s cottage. Lucky, still recovering from the events at the Midnight Mountains, spends a bulk of the first day sleeping in their sling. And though it had only taken Willow and Juliet a little over a day to get to the Mountains from the cottage (or would have), Flynn and Oberon are injured and far too weak to keep with the heroines’ pace (mostly Juliet’s). Because of their injured party members, they even have to take a detour around Nightmare Pass to avoid getting caught up by the hostile plants. The detour through the Dew Drop Forest is scenic, with its frosted grasses and crystal leaves, but not even Willow can take it all in with the weirdness hanging in the air. Willow envies Lucky. At least they get to sleep through all of this. ‘Lucky Duck.’ (The dragon hisses quietly in their sleep.)

To Flynn’s credit, he does try to break the tension by asking Willow questions about her life in Evermore and about Evermore in general. At first, it’s a welcome distraction and the girl from Evermore happily talks about living with her grandmas at the Rhode Island house, her brother, Meredith, her cousins, her old mermaid friends and the one selkie; she gushes over the berries, best in the realms, and the traditional Elsefaire. When he asks if they have princesses and queens, she tells him about the governing council and the governors of each of Evermore’s various city-states. Then he asks whether the prophecy heard in Folklore is the same in Evermore and she has to tell him that she had to seek out this quest on her own, because no one else seemed like they were going to step up and she worried about the fate of love.

Those questions help pass the time the first day, especially during their frequent breaks, but when afternoon hits and Flynn admits that he and Oberon can go on no longer, the tension returns in full. They set up camp at one of the enchanted stopping points, similar to the one Willow and Juliet stayed at on their first night adventuring together. (Feels like years ago.) The rest of the day is spent idling—well, Juliet does go off to hunt, so she’s not idle. And Willow technically gets in some sword practice and Flynn offer her pointers that she gladly accepts.

The rest of the evening is rather quiet, especially when Juliet comes back. She does teach Willow how to skin and gut rabbits, but outside of that, the group keeps to their own thoughts. Before bed, Willow insists on making sure Juliet actually sleeps before she turns in for the night.

They make it to Milfred of the wood’s cottage in under three hours. The cottage looks surprisingly normal today—in fact, it looks like the very definition of what one would likely imagine when they think of the word “cottage.” Gray smoke puffs from the chimney, little blue birds are flying around along with the bees, and the flowers are opening up in the patches of sunshine that stream through the trees.

That quaint atmosphere evaporates quicker than ice dropped in lava the second they make it within four yards of the premise. The two windows that are on either side of the door start to glow a menacing orange; the tops of the frames crack, violently slanting downwards, making the facade look angry. The door breaks at the middle, making it appear like a mouth full of sharp jagged teeth and Milfred’s distorted voice, at its lowest register, screeches, “NO! No, no, no, no, no!”

Cracks split across the ground towards them and a glyph glows beneath Flynn’s feet. Willow would be impressed with the Milfred’s clear evidence of rune practice were this not a glyph that threatens to turn Flynn into a pig if he so much as moves. As calmly as she can, Willow advises, “Flynn, don’t move. Oberon, stay back.”

Lucky, meanwhile, oblivious or not caring about the atmosphere, happily flies towards one of the windows and gurgles something indiscernible. The orange glow softens and the door-mouth smiles. “Oh, hello, Lucifer! No, I’m not mad at you,” Milfred continues, much more pleasant this time. Lucky gurgles back. “Yes, please come in. I have snacks ready for you.” The mouth-door opens wide and Lucky slips inside, Willow both amused and unimpressed.

The cottage’s expression returns to its previous ire and Milfred the menacing continues, “Absolutely not! Under no circumstances will I allow this. No.”

 

[ellarose]

"Oh, Lucifer." Millicent laments as the dragon enters her domain. "What have they done!? Bringing that..." She shudders. "Man here." The witch blinks twice, the honey-gold glow vanishing from her eyes as she pivots her attention away from the scene outside and to her favorite dragon instead, stroking their scales affectionately. (At the same time, the cottage's window eyes become ominously vacant and their mouth drops into a zombie-like slack jaw.) She brightens just for Lucifer, wearing a charming smile. "I made hand-pies, as promised. And once you've eaten and rested, I'll get started on your portrait! But first, I must scare that..." She shudders again, frantically swaying and rubbing her arms. "Man off. After that, we will have so much fun together!"

In the meantime, Jeffery Von Willigans crawls out of one of the windows, resembling an eerie, rodent-shaped tear drop leaving one of the cottage's eyes. (It's hard to say whether the companion does this specifically to be creepy or if they mistook the window for one of their many crawl holes.) Standing on the rooftop, they finally tower above everyone below them. When they realize this, they hiss proudly and raise their nose skyward. They are tall. They are powerful. (...They are currently dressed like a court jester.)

At the sight of Jeffery Von Willigans, Oberon nervously hides behind Willow. Peaches, meanwhile, floats her bubble up to the window to greet the possum with a cheerful squeak. Jeffery Von Willigans is not pleased by this display of friendliness and, annoyed, tries to smack her bubble down. They swing. They miss. Their pink nose twitches. (Ah, she's ruining everything! They wish to be the tallest.) However, the axolotl is completely unfazed by the other companion's disdain as she floats over their head and in through the window with ease. The possum hisses and follows her inside just as Millicent reanimates the cottage.

"Ack, my eye! Get out of my eye!" The windows squint, wood groaning as it shudders from side to side. Unable to stop Peaches from entering at this point, the door mouth puffs out a sigh. "What is this tomfoolery!? Leave! Leave at once. You are not welcome here."

"Millie..." Juliet begins placidly, already dreading this conversation and the mountain-climb it will take to appeal to the witch.

"I am the witch of the wood!" Millicent corrects vehemently. More cracks line the earth, zigzagging threateningly towards them. "Or, if you are one Willow James, you might call me the infernal eater of souls! I go by no other name-- especially not in the presence of incompetent nincompoop guards like you!"

"I-- I can--" Flynn starts to talk, foolishly thinking he might be able to explain his presence to the witch or calm her. At this development, a line of complex glyphs lights a path directly towards him.

Juliet sighs, rubbing her temples before stepping in front of Flynn to act as a human shield. Yet again. (She has no idea what these glyphs do-- but given Willow's earlier caution, she doesn't suspect it's anything good.) This time, the action doesn't end with a knife lodged in her back. Sensing her there, the glyphs split apart and before they can make contact with the archer, Millicent's magic shying away from hurting someone it doesn't wish to hurt. (The split halves of the glyphs collide with some nearby trees and turn them into squirrels with tree-branch limbs, screeching with pure horror now that they're sentient and have to cope with existing. Juliet can relate.)

"There is nothing you can say or do... for now." Juliet informs him. "Let me talk to her first." Then she hesitates, considering her friend's usual (unusual) conditions and deciding to warn him. (She didn't need to warn Willow during her first visit-- but that's because Willow seemed far more capable of keeping up with the witch, being prepared for anything.) "If you didn't bring a gift, you'll have to perform a dance. And that's only if she decides you can stay. Prepare yourself."

Flynn tugs at his collar and gulps. From behind Willow, Oberon waves his arms around as if to practice his own dance moves.

***​

Juliet, Willow, Millicent, and the companions (save Oberon) are all gathered together in the art room a few hours later. They're surrounded by canvases of all shapes and sizes, some with half-finished pieces splayed across their surfaces and others that are out to dry and waiting be magicked into the cycle of paintings on display in the witch's sitting room. Many are portraits of Jeffery Von Willigans-- though others depict wildlife, mushrooms, horror scenes or obscurely shaped blobs meant to depict 'auras'. Chaotic paint splatters cover the floor and the walls. On the ceiling there's an elaborate painted mural of Folklore's constellations.

Millicent is painting Lucky's portrait at long last-- the dragon currently modeling a noble and ferocious pose for her. (Most of the costume ideas were rejected-- but it's understandable, as most of the costumes smelled of Jeffery Von Willigans.) The act of painting the dragon does help her calm down a little... but not nearly enough for her to let Flynn Everson step foot inside of her home.

And, no, the witch of the wood didn't end up turning the former palace guard into a pig or a squirrel or some horrific amalgamation of the two. For now, they've at least settled on allowing him to stay in the little shack where those recovering from the Lightless afflictions sometimes stay. Still... it wouldn't be right to leave the two of them here like this. There's no telling what might happen once Juliet and Willow decide to leave for the tournament in Amoria.

"Millie, can we trust you to--" Juliet starts to breach the subject-- but the witch of the wood is not having it.

"So, Willow." Millicent cuts her off, blatantly ignoring Juliet as she continues to paint. "How did Lucifer get their name?"