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

[starboob]

Lucky tackles Willow the second the women arrive back at the room and Willow is grateful for it, having both missed her companion and in desperate need of their body heat to warm herself up again. (The enchantments she had been given before entering Okeanos might have acclimated her physiology to an undersea environment, but it’s not like they made her impervious to polar temperatures and the chill from earlier has put frost on her bones.) She hums pleasantly, wrapping her arms around her dragon while they nuzzle under her chin and purr in response. Though their room is not in a state of disarray this time, she can feel her companion still trembling from separation which only tightens the guilt Willow feels for having to leave them. (Look, it’s not as though the pair do everything together–– Willow suspects that Lucky has an entire secret life she doesn’t know about (something her and Meredith used to theorize about heavily)–– but she knows how much it worries them when they cannot be around to protect her and she knows that tonight, like the day, had been one close call after another.) She strokes down their spine, then smoothes her hands over their scales while they lay happily on her chest. ‘Don’t worry, I’m being careful. Juliet's been keeping me safe, too.’ She’s pretty sure Lucky can’t read her mind, but every so often they will respond to her thoughts making her wonder just how deep their connection is. This is one of those moments, as Lucky nods and looks into her eyes, blinking slowly, as if to say they know.

Once Lucky lets Willow up they stay close to her side, following her around the room like a shadow while she changes out her wetsuit for something to sleep in–– an oversized shirt under an oversized mustard yellow university crewneck. (Unsurprisingly, the university sweatshirt is not for a school she attended and belongs to someone else.) She does a quick moisturizing routine for her curls before she summons her notebook and flops onto her bed at the same time Juliet sits down at the foot of hers. (She is majorly disappointed they were given two beds this time around.)

While the sorceress would ordinarily offer to fix up the other woman’s wounds, she’s too slow on the uptake and the archer has already pulled out her own supplies. Still, she does watch from her peripheries in case a moment arises where she can step in to help–– especially since the gashes along her collarbone are in an awkward location. (Willow notes, too, how the marks that were on her tail translate when she’s back to her human form.) It doesn’t even occur to Willow to try and tuck in for the night; part of her has forgotten that the hour is late and the other part of her is too focused on making sure she jots down everything she remembers while it’s still fresh. Lucky shrinks down to flop over her shoulder to look over the notes she’s writing as if they can understand them. (She has a feeling they can, to some degree at least.)

When Juliet breaks the silence, she looks up, tilting her head to the side and perking her brows to encourage the archer to speak freely on the matter. By the time she finishes, Willow is sitting up and her green eyes are wide with alarm. Though the news doesn’t necessarily surprise her, all things considered. She does think the king is a buffoon for believing he might be able to play with the strings of fate–– as if ordering his wife to sever her thread would ever actually do something for his cause. Love… love is as fickle as she is simple, from what the sorceress understands. It wouldn’t surprise her if this backfired in the king’s face in the most striking way; in fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if the snapping or cut threads blow up in the faces of all those involved with manipulating them. (Love is just too powerful to be trifled with and she doesn't get why people have so eagerly forgotten that. You just don’t mess with love unless you want to get burned–– just look at those who have attempted to make love potions; they carry that evidence on their marred mugs.)

Then Juliet brings up Willow’s sly offer from earlier and the sorceress slides down from her bed, sinking to the floor so that she is sitting at the foot of her bed, across from her companion. She pulls her knees up to her chest and then adjusts her sweatshirt so that its covering her knees. (This is something she does out of habit. She has entirely forgotten how dorky it looks.) Her eyes flicker around the room, wordlessly sharing Juliet's concern that someone could be listening–– even if she doesn’t know that it’s unlikely because they are in a dry room, one can never be too careful. Her eyes narrow as they pan around the room, clicking her tongue thoughtfully as she reaches for her staff. She twirls her wrist and then stamps the staff to the ground; a dome spouts from the glowing stone at the tip and grows to encase the women (and companions) under it. “This will keep our conversation private.”

The sorceress then scoots a few inches forward, just barely closing the distance between them. Under the safety of her charm, her eyes spark with mischief and her cheeks flush, fully realizing that Juliet has officially asked to collaborate on a plan–– and not just any plan, but one to expose this cowardly king. She steeples her fingers together and looks at the archer. “I am so glad you asked, because there are a number of ways we can expose the king–– some more embarrassing than others.” (“Willow, you're a genius–– do you realize you could own the school with your knack for magic? Anyone who messes with you is lucky that you don’t have a malicious bone in your body.”) Willow then explains a few options they have at their disposal ranging from using a charm that will progressively turn the king into a sea-chicken each time he lies; to making it so that each lie causes the king to lose a patch of hair; to slipping him a veritas potion in small doses that will gradually cause him to dole out more truths over time. The last option is the safest by far, the progression giving them enough cover that one might never suspect magic, but it's also the least fun. However, considering that they should probably keep as much heat off of casters as possible, she does still think it's the one they should go with and, who knows, the king might embarrass himself still with something like that. “One issue with exposing truth,” she concludes, “is that the truth can be subjective if one has strong enough beliefs. For my spell to be max effective, we need to figure out what King Clown believes.” (It is possible he is as shallow as Kinsley and figuring out his core beliefs will be easy enough, but they have no room for error with the stakes so high.)

“He’s trying to preserve an image of himself, obviously, so he probably believes that he is deserving of the glory that is accredited to his brother.” She taps her chin, rocking her head from side to side so as to roll ideas around in her head. “We need to make sure we figure out his motives to best circumvent his truth to get to the truth.” She takes a pause here, either for dramatic effect or because what she’s about to say won’t be favorable. “You won’t like this, I don’t think, I barely like this, but we need to spend more time with the king. Both as ourselves and as others. As ourselves… as women, to put it plainly, I imagine he’ll show one side of himself, if the way he spoke of us earlier is any indication of his beliefs. But it'll still be good data for us to have. Then, I think, we ought to disguise ourselves as men–– we’ll probably need to take on the disguises of those within his inner-circle.” That, obviously, poses a significant risk of getting caught and Lucky bristles at that suggestion. Willow nods in silent agreement. ‘Definitely too risky. Too many unknowns.’ She thinks on this more and then waves her hands through the air so as to strike the last idea from the record. “We could also just get him tuned–– y’know, in vino veritas. We just need to know his true character so that I can tailor the charm to his specific character and value set.

“Do you think he’ll be hosting a celebration for his 'mighty' victory against the stone hydra?” She asks, with no small amount of sarcasm. She imagines he will want to make a spectacle of his victory, being as vainglorious as he is. “That would be the perfect time to use nature's truth serum on him without even raising any eyebrows.”

Then her mind wanders back to castle acting up. She doesn't know enough to draw any specific conclusions, but she keeps this in mind especially in light of their current brainstorming. It does also occur to her that were something to happen at the celebration and the king ill-prepared… Well, it’s safe to say they have a plethora of opportunities to expose him–– potion or not and Willow is already devising ways to be prepared for every and any possible outcome. He’s made this too easy, messing with magic in such a careless way. “It is possible the castle is acting out against the king depending on what, if any, magic built the castle. It’s also possible that there is a new spell going awry. Hard to say based on my limited observations, but I imagine all of this is connected in some way and it is possible we can use it to our advantage. We'll just have to remain alert and adaptable. Easy peasy," she grins, both to joke and to acknowledge the fact that they both have their own ways of remaining alert and adaptable. Juliet by being so quick and Willow by being so observant. 'We really could work so well together.'

“I… I also don’t want to involve the teens in this–– I admire them, I do, but I don’t want to be responsible for them like we were tonight. That was too close and Prince Dylan is such a wildcard.” If it were just Cassia, she might feel more comfortable, because she at least knows how to listen, but even then it’s too dangerous to put her young life at risk. (Not that Willow and Juliet's young lives aren't important, but this is their responsibility as prophesied heroes.) Besides, Cassia reminds her too much of a combination of herself and Meredith and, knowing that, she can only imagine the exposé she would compose if she were privy to everything. If the young scribe happens to be present at the time of the king’s fall, that’s one thing. But to directly involve her? It doesn’t sit right with Willow. “But we should take them seriously otherwise they will do what all teenagers do–– they’ll just get sneakier and try to run off and do their own thing. That could seriously put everyone at risk. It’ll be better for everyone if we do consider their talents, abilities, and positioning to our advantage. We'll just need to get a little creative to ensure they stay out of harm's way.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet tosses and turns all through the night. Her limbs are leaden with exhaustion, but there’s also something else. It’s as if someone is pressing down on her chest, crushing her ribs. Breaking her in half, flashes of red blazing behind her eyes, and then a pair of eyes glowing over her. (Then darkness. A laugh, a wisp warm breath on her neck, nails raking over her chest and…) She wakes with a start when Grace nuzzles against her, rescuing her from the nightmare as she has so many times in the past. Peeling herself off the mattress, she brings a hand to her chest. The wounds from the night before are still there and it occurs to her that she’ll have to find a way to hide them somehow. (As herself, this will pose questions as to when she injured herself. As someone else— disguised as a man perhaps— this will also give her away.) Make up is not a viable option underwater. With a little groan of resignation, she swims over to the wardrobe. There are some gowns supplied within it, made with light flowing fabric. Some enjoy wearing these fashions inspired by those on the land while others prefer to go without it. Juliet dislikes the impact it has on her mobility… but they’re investigating, not fighting.

Juliet selects a white dress with a high enough collar to cover her wounds, changing out of her night dress and sighing as she checks herself in their full-length mirror. Wearing a garment itself isn’t torture… but this style is a bit too ruffly for her liking. “…I feel ridiculous.” Willow James offers help with her hair, they tie a ribbon around the gash on her tail in the hall, and she looks presentable enough by the time they’re ready to go. It will help with the investigation as a ‘woman’, she supposes, to look the part of someone who wishes to impress the king with her effort.

They end up reconvening with the king in the throne room as scheduled. To ease themselves into the investigation, they start small by requesting a tour from his majesty the king himself. While Juliet has swum these halls before on a few different occasions, this is Willow James’s first time in a sea kingdom altogether. “How fortunate for you that Okeanos is your first. It is the mightiest of the seven sea kingdoms.” King Cedrick pompously states. He makes a true actor of himself to appear at least somewhat hesitant about this— after all, his ‘beloved’ brother is missing— and Juliet assures that this information may help them assist Prince Zander. (‘It may help us better understand his heart, your highness.’ Juliet says, bowing her head. ‘This affliction is a matter of the heart.’) In turn, he is delighted to oblige such an unproductive task. Traversing halls upon halls of portraits and listening to the king’s self-gratifying spiel makes the archer restless, yes. Even so, she has faith in Willow’s plan. This is where data and skill for magic is helpful… and it is in these particular subjects that Juliet must begin taking seriously if she is to better understand her own methods.

Juliet checks out as he tells stories of his great grandfathers and grandfathers and their means of building up the ‘strongest sea kingdom in Folklore’— claiming theirs is the oldest and therefore the one with the richest history. (His account of history are on par with mother’s. Dates, battles, dates, battles, and more dates. Although unlike her, he speaks to them as if they are children… mother had taught Juliet as if she were an adult.) Then he stops before a far more recent family portrait— another of him and his siblings. He speaks about himself and the sort of child he was at length. Dutiful, diligent, a hard worker. Anything he can say to paint himself in a respectable light, as expected. Once he finishes there, he passes over Prince Zander to speak about Queen Viviane. Her blue eyes are piercing, her flowing hair an imposing halo-gold. There’s a hint of resemblance to Elise in her eye and hair color, though most in Amoria would claim she takes after her father. “My sister, Vivi— Viviane— was the first of our bloodline to marry on the land. After that, we sought out kingdoms across the seas to learn royal enchantments that allows us to entertain guests just like you, other sider. Her marriage was prosperous and opened several trading opportunities for us. She was determined to marry well, you see, as our brother Zander never found a fruitful match.” The archer has to stop herself from rolling her eyes when he stops to clarify that they’re ‘royal enchantments’ and also when he mentions his brother. (‘He found his match and you ruined it.’) “Ah. A dreadful shame what happened to her husband, King Alistair. That was around the time that you appeared in Amoria, was it not Juliet?”

The color drains from Juliet’s face. “…It was two months after his assassination, your majesty.” She answers simply. This is unimportant. This is the past. (She hopes if anything it says enough about his character to give Willow the information she needs. In truth, the archer half-understood her explanation the other night. Magic is… rather difficult for her to conceptualize, though she believes she understands the gist.) The king had been sick at the time… she and Lara traveled to Amoria at the time to bring him a cure. They were too late as someone else took his fate into their own hands, taking advantage of his illness to strike.

“Queen Viviane took such a shine to Juliet, claiming she was special despite coming from the wood of all places. She was the first to make Princess Elise smile after her father passed. Such a sweet story, truly.” The king strokes his chin. “What was it you did to achieve that, Juliet?”

“She caught me putting a mouse in Lavinia Laurence’s shoe, your majesty.” Juliet answers flatly, her expression revealing none of her secret joy as the king chokes and his face scrunches up as though he ate a sour berry. (Princess Elise claimed she was worried for the mouse and rescued it from the shoe, setting it free in the garden before taking Juliet by the hand and telling her they would find another way.)

“Ah, yes. I see, I see… I suppose Princess Elise has always had her head in the clouds. King Alistair was a good man… but he filled that child’s head with stories.” The king continues on and on. Juliet closes her hands into fists. “The numbers of eligible princesses in the kingdoms has dwindled and many have fought for her hand. And now she intends to marry a guard from her own kingdom?” He barks out a laugh as if he isn’t speaking of his own niece. (Perhaps he’s reveling in this chaos. Queen Viviane upstaged him by marrying on the land and producing a healthy heir.) If Juliet was taking notes, she would write ‘gossips like Lavinia Laurence’ on her page.

“And then our youngest sister, Cleodora.” The king proceeds to talk about their youngest sister, a woman with dark blue eyes and olive skin— the mother of Prince Dylan, Prince Guppy, and their newborn baby sister. He discusses trivial things about her having wed south in the emerald sea before speaking at length about her kindness and her visit. While prattling on, he mentions Queen Cleodora’s friendship with Queen Adelaide and that her company through these trying times has been helpful. This is news to Juliet, who hadn't known of their friendship before, and makes a note of it. (...In the process, he makes yet another not-so-subtle jab about Viviane leaving in a hurry to attend to Elise's 'foolish' decision.) The fixation on his reputation and glory, his eagerness to smooth over his brother's very existence, and him constantly ridiculing Elise's decision... if Juliet needed any confirmation that he's the worst (she didn't) she has it now.

The king finishes with the hall of portraits and shows them the ballroom. Sure enough, decorations are already being prepared by castle staff for some type of festivity. (When the king announces the banquet he intends to hold at the end of the week to celebrate his victory, Juliet exchanges an exasperated glance with Willow.) “Some may find it in poor taste to celebrate while my brother is missing.” The king says, “But I believe it best to keep morale high through such trying times.” Then he mentions the gardens being ‘in a state of disarray’ after the hydra attack and decides that he is a ‘busy man’ and this must suffice for a tour.

“Speaking of which... have you heard any further news of your brother? You’ve told us much of your family and very little about Prince Zander. If we are to find him, there is much we still need to know.” Juliet speaks up levelly, making an effort not to sound confrontational. "I was informed that his transformation may have occurred in the east wing of the castle."

“Ah, I see. That may have been a rumor. Much like the hydra, a few similar-- albeit smaller-- incidents occurred on the day of Zander's transformation. The maids were all rather flustered that day. No one can pinpoint where exactly it happened, although there has been much speculation." The king mentions. Juliet tilts her head (from one side and then the other, as she has seen Willow James do) she recalls how the maid before mentioned that she believed the castle was haunted. (A setup? If the king did hire someone to target his brother, it's possible he also staged this...)

***
​

Juliet sighs, relieved to be free of her frilly garment when the two regroup in their room. They discover a note in their room when they return that says 'If I we can do anything to help, let me us know!' It's signed from 'Cassia' in the same neat handwriting as the message. There's an 'and Prince Dylan' in a wider and slightly messier script. (The 'I' and 'me' scratched out with 'we' and 'us' above is also the prince's doing, Juliet can safely assume.) Once they get settled, she and Lucky both peer over Willow's shoulder as she compiles a list of everything they've learned from 'stage one' of their investigation.

"I didn't know that Queen Cleodora and Queen Adelaide were friends." Juliet supplies. While it might be difficult to get information from Queen Adelaide just yet, there's a possibility that they might learn something important from Queen Cleodora. "We could ask Queen Cleodora some questions if we have the opportunity. She may be easier to approach than Queen Adelaide herself." She tilts her head. That or perhaps Prince Dylan could help them with that. Although... she's not so sure about that, either. "We should gather more information from the castle staff as well. It's possible some of them encountered the same unruly magic we did last night."

Juliet lifts the note from the teenagers and considers what Willow said the night before about searching for their strengths. "Cassia may be able to help us gather more information." She bites her lip reluctantly. "Prince Dylan, though... I fear he may give us away." Stealth isn't his strength. And while the two helped each other the night before, they're prone to bickering. "He may offer us important information if we're to masquerade as men, however." Somehow. That's another part of the plan she's been unsure about. "How do you propose we go about that? Did you have a spell in mind?"

 

[starboob]

Willow James does not make a habit of harboring hatred for very many people; it’s usually not worth her energy and few really rile her up enough to warrant such a reaction from the easy going Willow James. Kings, so far, however, have proven time and again that they are the consistent exceptions to that rule and King Cedrick has truly managed to test her patience–– as if she doesn't already dislike him for his brazen and dangerous stunt with the stone hydra and taking credit for Juliet’s work. That she manages to keep her expression schooled the entire duration of the tour, only sharing the occasional exasperated glance with her companion, is a miracle worthy enough for her to ascend to godhood.

“Ugh, that was literally the worst, but at least we were able to gather some more data on King Cedrick.” Most of it is unsurprising and confirms her initial thought that this will end up being a rather simple potion to concoct. Stage two of her plan will confirm this, of course.

She finishes her notes, jotting down ‘gossips like KP,’ and closes the notebook without explanation. “I think the less work we do as ourselves the better. If your hunch about King Cedrick is correct, that he will interrupt this investigation, then we might need a few more disguises. Bet his royal highness has the staff under orders to not talk about it or something.” Although Cassia might be good here as well, given that she has a position in the castle and might be friendly with the maids. Either that or she’ll know how to sneak around effectively enough to gain information. “Actually, yeah, Cassia…” She trails off, waving her hand through the air to summon what they’ll need for stage two. “And Prince Dylan, okay…”

She’ll explain. Probably. She just needs to stop muttering incoherently to herself while summoning random things from her bag. (One such random item is a cheese stick that she hands to Juliet after explaining the proper/only way to eat it.) After finding what she’s looking for, she holds up two costumes of generic male forms–– in their packaging, they look like nothing more than fabric muscle suits with different accoutrements to add on. “We’ll need to borrow clothes to fit in.” Everyday Willow regrets dissing fashion magic. (Maybe she should write to Meredith and ask her for some notes?) “But these will work for the base.”

After their light snack break, they set off to complete stage 1.5 of Willow’s master plan. The first part is simple enough and involves literally bumping into Cassia when they find her swimming through the halls near the castle library. (It’s decided that in order to keep Cassia safe, their correspondences with her need to be kept private since she’s already revealed herself as a fan of Lady Juliet. While Willow just thinks this means that she has great taste, she’s come to understand that her partner’s reputation is so far deep in the mud, it’s buried in a bog. Being seen together in public could raise suspicion; even if the interaction could be chocked up to a heroine and her fan chatting, Willow wouldn’t be surprised if the royal enchantments on the castle also included eyes and ears and she wouldn’t be surprised if those enchantments are especially attuned to the heroines.) After purposefully knocking over the stack of books the scribe had been carrying, something Willow James feels terrible about even if necessary, they help Cassia collect them and Willow makes sure the teen sees her slip a note between the pages of one of the texts. (The note is obviously written in code and Willow has full faith the young scribe will crack it. It simply instructs her to gather information from the castle staff where she can, asks if she can get them clothes for their disguises, and emphasizes secrecy. Lastly, it instructs her to destroy the note once she’s memorized the instructions. Willow James is nothing if not thorough in her scheming.)

Next, they go off to find Prince Dylan. (While it is necessary to keep their distance from Cassia, the prince, being a member of the royal family, provides some cover for their meeting.) Finding him, however, turns out to be a surprisingly difficult task as he’s not at his lessons or anywhere he’s supposed to be. (Lady Ingrid huffs and puffs so much about the prince’s whereabouts that Willow James is certain the entire palace might be blown down if she is kept on the topic of the prince any longer.) They end up catching him spying on the knights’ training, attempting to mimic their drills. It’s reminiscent of how Willow tries to copy Juliet after one of their matches or fights and that gives her an idea.

The two women approach the prince from behind, causing Dylan to practically jump out of his skin and Willow to giggle. Once they find a better place to talk, Willow explains that they just want to run over the details of what he knows and has heard of his missing uncle. She then asks if he’d like to spar with one of the heroine’s of love; naturally, the prince scoffs at this idea, something about not wanting to fight a girl, and Willow just rolls her eyes and loudly whispers to Juliet that she thinks Prince Dylan is afraid of having his tail handed to him. (Of course they both know that sparring against Willow, he will have more wins than losses.) This appropriately gets him to draw his sword and his confidence skyrockets when he’s able to defeat Willow three times in a row. For the fourth match, Juliet whispers in her ear, offering her a tip against the prince, and the fourth match turns in Willow’s favor. While they spar, the sorceress engages the prince in easy conversation, starting with the topic of Prince Zander and then slowly steering the conversation towards King Cedrick, getting him to spill what he knows of the inner circle, the social hierarchy within the group, and where they might congregate.

After they have the information they need, they part ways with the prince and Willow, ever the nerd, encourages him to go to his actual lessons with Lady Ingrid, as hero work is as much about brain as it is brawn. He doesn't listen to this, which is unsurprising, and tries to casually ask about the investigation, desperate to help in any way that he can. (While Willow does feel bad about not being transparent with the prince about his own involvement, she does agree with Juliet that the prince is too much of a liability.) The sorceress remains firm that his studies are just as important and promises he can have a more active role if he starts studying more, reminding him that it was his brain that saved them back in the hall of portraits. She doesn't know if that will work, but he swims off regardless and she shoots her companion a guilty look.

All this brings them to actual stage two of the master plan–– well, more like stage 1.75 as Willow and Juliet brainstorm roles they might assume with the knowledge they gathered from Prince Dylan about the king’s inner circle. While they don’t plan to impersonate actual members of the circle, they still need to know who they're dealing with and how they might need to act around these men. During their brainstorming, Cassia manages to sneak to their room to deliver the supply of attire and while she obviously has questions, she doesn’t ask, seeming to understand that the less she knows the better.

“Okay, serious question, beard or no beard?” The sorceress grins, holding a fake beard to her face as they change into their costumes. “I think I’m gonna go for it. Leif says beards are itchy, but he also says they’re nature’s scarf and I’ve always been kinda curious about what it would be like. What about you? Are you going to go for a beard?”

Once the costumes are on, Willow reads through the instructions on the charm and practices the motions a few times before getting ready to cast. She explains, briefly, that costumes like this are popular around certain holidays, like All Hallow’s Eve, but that those ones are usually cheaper and the spell less convincing. She assures the archer that these ones are top-notch, but doesn't explain that she acquired them from Sawyer who acquired them from “sources.” (Willow never questioned what the wizard meant by that, assuming she didn’t want to know.) She then casts the spell, drawing invisible figures with the tips of her fingers and then finishing by waving her staff over the unseen glyph; the suits glow in response, warping against their bodies, changing colors to match their skin tone and, finally, meld to their skin.

“Woah…” she whispers, startling herself with her voice’s lower register. She repeats herself, “Woah,” then continues to try out different words, amused by the change while also trying to get used to her new voice. (It sounds so bizarre that she has to actively track what she’s saying, because there is a part of her that believes it’s another person speaking.) She also feels over her chest, amazed, and strokes her beard thoughtfully. "This is so satisfying. I get why beard stroking is a thing."

Thanks to Prince Dylan, they know that the king and his circle often frequent an esteemed private gentleman’s club just outside of the palace grounds. (Though Willow and Juliet had already agreed to not let the prince in on their plans, seeing as stealth is not his strong suit, he had an impressive amount of information on the club, its location, and how to gain entry, leading Willow to believe he is entirely capable of stealth when he wants to be discreet. She keeps this information for later.) Following the prince’s hints, she lets Juliet do the talking and they make a smooth entrance into the club. The lighting is pleasantly low, the water perfumed with something sweet, reminding her of a summer peach, and a musical ensemble plays some instrumental of a song she doesn’t know.

The club is full of lordly gentleman and, lo and behold, true to what the prince claimed, the king sits in a back booth, surrounded by some other noblemen. Willow doesn’t necessarily recognize the king's company, she’s really only met his family, but they’re barking and laughing so loudly that she’s quickly able to figure out who is who while they post at the bar. She repeats the names in her head, the small facts she’s gathering, trying to repeat them over the sound of the drumbeat in her ears. (She’s pretty sure that without the music or laughter, it would be her heart filling the club.) ‘Just remember what Leif told you about men–– they’re pretty simple.’ Still, she accepts a drink from the bartender to ease her nerves, though careful to not drink enough to become William Jameson (long story short, her drunksona). They swim closer to the king's booth though not close enough that the guards standing watch are put at alert, just enough to catch more snippets of the conversation.

“Shall we have another celebratory round for his majesty’s triumph over the stone hydra?”

“I heard your performance put even Prince Zander to shame.”

“Funny how his majesty could not put on such a performance when the actual hydra was around–– for perhaps then it would be uncontested that you are the best.”

“Are you suggesting I am not, Lord Arquette?”

“I jest, my king! We all know Prince Zander was but a mere rake unworthy of his title. His status was just a regrettable stroke of bad luck from your father.”

“It is just a shame those blasted heroines got in the way.”

“Yes, I did hear some of the servants gossiping about how it was Lady Juliet who actually subdued the beast. Can you believe?”

“Oh, don’t make such a face, your majesty. Women will believe anything they hear. For example, I just told my wife I loved her and yet the entire ton knows I am bedding her best friend right under her nose.”

“So true, Lord Archibald. They have such fragile minds, women. I often cannot understand them–– even my wife, my perfect match, is a mystery to me. I haven’t a clue of how to get through to her, but at least she listens which is about the only good quality you can ask for in a woman.”

“Well…”

The men all erupt into laughter over that suggestion.

“But you say the kingdom believes that blasted urchin is responsible for my victory?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s the whole of it.”

“Not at all, my king. It is mostly only the women spreading this nonsense and no one of merit shall believe them.”

“Hmm… True." After a pause King Cedrick continues, "In any case, it is a good thing I shall be keeping both Lady Juliet and her joke of a sidekick busy the night of the celebration. Once the clock strikes midnight, we shan’t have to worry anymore of my dear missing brother; this blight on my legacy shall finally be removed once and for all, and Lady Juliet will still be the shame of the ton, bless her wretched heart.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is calm.

She is perfectly calm. The archer adjusts her hood, ensuring her noticeable red hair is properly covered up. ('Your red hair announces your presence. There is nowhere for you to hide, is there?') Deciding she’s heard quite enough, she turns her back to the king and his men and swims towards the darts game stationed at the back of the club. Blood pulses in her ears. She is calm. However— however. She must do something with her hands this instant or she may accidentally start an unlawful brawl on behalf of all of the women they’ve just insulted. (Training her gaze on the red point of the bullseye, once again she is forced to confront the fact that her back is constantly made into one. A target. An enemy.) Throwing one dart, the machine chimes happily as it registers a bullseye. She’s perfectly calm. Even as the men jest at the expense of the women in their lives. Chime, chime. Another bullseye. Even as they plot in their exclusive circles how best to drag her muddied reputation even deeper into the ground. Chime, chime. Another. The booms of laughter coming from their booth reminds her all too much of Brooks and his mates. Chime, chime. Another. Brooks. Chime, chime. And another. Juliet breathes out slowly, a touch shakily, backing away from the game. No more. She is only one bullseye away from dethroning the king’s high score. (Did he earn that high score? Probably not.) As satisfying as that might be, as with the hydra, staying invisible is far more important for the time being. They cannot ruin their plan after they’ve come so far. Someday things will change. This is what she’s been fighting for in secret. And perhaps she will target King Cedrick. If she gets the chance, that is…

Needless to say, this certainly isn’t the first time she’s spun someone’s wicked manipulations in her own favor. And it will not be the last.

It takes invisibility to accomplish such a feat. Collecting the information she requires silently, orchestrating their downfalls from the background. This is why she doesn’t put up more of a fight when her victories are stolen, why she hasn’t called any more undue attention upon herself. Although Juliet oftentimes feels the urge to scream rising up in her throat, reason bites her tongue and she swallows it right back down. (It burns.) She reminds herself to stay calm. Even as her insides scorch to a crisp. Just stay calm. Even as her nails draw angry red lines in her palms. Damn it, she’s calm.

She is calm. Juliet turns the final dart between her fingers, round and round with a pounding heart. Then she grips it tight while envisioning herself wringing the king’s sea chicken neck.

The king would take losing to a man better than losing to the likes of Juliet August. (She remembers everything she told her, she told her— not her, too.) But King Cedrick is also the sort of fool who would sooner kill his own brother than confront his own faults in the mirror. She sets the dart down, resigned to reason, and turns to Willow. She cannot get used to seeing her with the beard, with her new physique. (What would she have done, if she had this kind of— no.) It’s time to go. Before she remembers anyone else.

“That’s enough.” Juliet says quietly. Calmly. She cannot get used to her new voice, either. “Let’s take our leave now.”

***​

The celebration is fast approaching. Through Cassia, they discover from her findings that Prince Zander may not have actually escaped the castle at all. (Considering the king is adamant that his brother will meet his end precisely at midnight, this option is certainly plausible. Probable, even. Making it appear as though he escaped when he’s been held within the castle walls this entire time? Of course that would throw the ‘feeble minded’ heroines off their filthy trail.) There is a ‘mysterious howling’ echoing from the cellar as well. A lead. And if Prince Zander is within the castle, if that is the case… a plan is beginning to form in Juliet’s mind.

Wanting to be sure before they enact any sort of plan involving Prince Zander’s presence, Juliet suggests that she take on this part of the investigation alone while Willow prepares her spells for the next evening. As she searches the castle halls, she better acquaints herself with the layout— potential shortcuts and hiding places— while making her way lower and lower. The cellar is expectedly dark and dreary. Unfortunately, she does not find anything of note in the cellar. Those rumors were mere ghost stories, perhaps, and nothing more. Damn.

Juliet pores over her memories, wondering if there’s anywhere else she ought to investigate before she returns to their room. The idea of returning empty-handed when Willow has done so much sours her. No. There must be something.

That’s it. Ah, that has to be it. Juliet speeds forward, recalling the guards. The guards and the mysterious shape poking out from beneath the cloth, whatever it was that they were hauling away into the garden of glory. (There has to be more to it. Perhaps whatever forces at work that night knew that she and Willow needed to witness that moment.) Considering the tour, the way the king deliberately steered them away from the gardens when he could have used them as yet another opportunity to brag… there must be more to it. Especially when she considers the uncanny, haunted energy permeating the area. And now she has time before the clock strikes two. If she works quickly, she may be able to investigate the gardens thoroughly this time around— and hopefully without incident. She silently slips past a few guards on her way there, swimming low to the ground like a serpent through the underwater plant life.

Eventually, Juliet reaches the secluded depths of the gardens, where the sea grass thickens, and finally finds what she’s looking for. The hidden statue. The archer approaches it cautiously and then draws back the cloth… and discovers not a hydra, but an aquatic Lightless sealed in stone. Prince Zander.

***​

The next day they spend getting ready for the event, just as the king expects them to. Juliet selects another of those insufferable dresses to properly conceal her scars and offers to braid Willow's hair as they finalize their plans for the evening. (Grace, desperate to escape one of Lucky's attempts to play, decides to settle herself down on Willow's lap. It seems she believes it the next best place to take respite from the dragon as Juliet stands behind them.) She runs her fingers gently through her dark curls as she divides them into sections, somewhat wonderstruck by the texture of them. She instinctually begins a lace braid, a style that's only half-up.

"The king thinks he will be keeping us busy... while it is actually us who will be keeping him busy." Juliet begins to recap everything they spoke about the night before. "I will draw him away from the party, claiming with womanly fright that I saw something suspicious near the gardens. I believe I can slip the potion into his drink as I do so." (And who knows? She may also pass him a certain curse while they're alone, if she has the chance. Ever since that day in the so-called 'gentleman's' club, all she can think about is karma.) The archer meets Willow's eyes in the mirror. "While I am gone you may have an opening to approach either Queen Cleodora or Queen Adelaide. If so, you may be able to learn something we can ask him about. If we phrase our questions well enough... I believe we will uncover something that damns him."

They have plenty to work with as it is. But convincing an entire kingdom of their king's faults is no easy feat. They need to find something that will turn everyone against him and not just a select few.

"We're also working with a time limit. Midnight. Unfortunately, the antidote alone isn't enough to heal the prince in his current state." Juliet knows because she tried that the night before when she found him. It seems only the king's closest circle would've been privy to his plans, meaning they're still in the dark on that end. "We have to improvise. I am not certain if the king intends to bring the prince back and slay him while he's disoriented... or if perhaps his current state will become permanent at midnight." She shakes her head, at a loss. "Whatever the case, we'll know tonight. If we act quickly enough I believe we will see this through. And if the worst comes to pass..." The archer bites her lip. That being prince Zander's death, even if she doesn't even want to consider that option. She needs to prepare Willow for the possibility of failure and what that implies. "We'll at least be able to expose the king and the truth will be revealed."

Ah. That may not be the best thing to say if she doesn't want her companion to worry. Juliet glances to the vanity for a distraction, noticing the dishes of pearls and white lilies that Cassia had picked for them. (It's rather popular here for the ladies to wear such things in their hair at formal events. As a child she rather liked picking wildflowers for her own, contrasting the pretentious gems and diamonds Lavinia Laurence would wear.) She reaches for one of the lilies and holds it experimentally in a few different places around Willow's head. She meets her gaze in the mirror once more.

"There. Is that all right?" Juliet tilts her head, unsure whether or not Willow will like this style. It is a bit intricate. "Would you like to wear some flowers in your hair as well? Or is that too much?"

 

[starboob]

In the days that follow, the joke of a sidekick is beside herself with anger. ‘Joke. He thinks you’re a joke!’ And the worst part? Willow James cares what this deplorable little man, King Cedrick, thinks of her. (It has to be some kind of terminal brain illness that causes her to care so much about the wrong people’s opinions. Like it’s a game. Like if she can get the impossible person’s approval she’ll win. What will she win? She has no idea, but it certainly isn’t her dignity.) And how can he even make that assessment when they haven’t even spent that much time together? (How has he pinned her down so easily?) He doesn’t know a thing about the girl from the other side and he's already decided she's a joke. ‘Wait until he finds out he’s the punchline. Hmph.’

If Willow were a more malicious person, she would cause the king’s tongue to burn each time he tells a lie or gossips. (In the world where she enacts this version of her plan, the king’s tongue is scorched and ashen within an hour.) But she resists, for the simple fact that magic isn’t a toy. It’s not something to use all willy nilly–– it must be respected, otherwise the consequences can be quite unwieldy. Even if it would be quite satisfying to see him hurt, she doesn’t think she would be able to live with herself in the aftermath. Yes, King Cedrick is entirely undeserving of mercy but it’s not her place to decide his punishment–– his slight against her does not warrant such a reaction. At least she doesn’t think so. It’s only her job to reveal his crimes to the judge and jury. They can decide how to punish their beloved king and Willow will smile and wave from the gallery–– maybe she’ll even give a cheeky little wink for her own satisfaction, because even if she will try to rise above being vengeful and petty, she is still (mostly) human.

So the sorceress sighs and resigns herself to brewing the potion exactly as the instructions she wrote state, crushing up bits of coal wrapped in fool’s gold and sprinkling it into the bubbling ooze in the enameled pot that sits atop her portable camp stove. Since the brew will have to simmer overnight to ensure that it is slow acting, Willow occupies herself with a light solo training routine, reviews spells and runes, as well as keeps Lucky entertained so that Grace is not the sole focus of their energy. (She shoots an apologetic look at the fox every so often, wanting her to know she understands how uncomfortable attention can be.)

At some point, Willow falls asleep on the floor before Juliet returns.

***​

Willow checks several times with Juliet, the maids, and Cassia to confirm the time the celebration is supposed to start, still riding waves of mortification from the last time she showed up horrifically late to a royal engagement. (She does, also, explain to Juliet what “fashionably late” means in Evermore, because it clearly has a different meaning in Folklore.) And while this time around she has had ample time to mentally prepare herself for such an event, she still finds herself shaking. Though this time not because a princess is expecting her, or even the knowledge that she is about to be surrounded by nobles, it’s that she knows they’re about to swim into shark infested waters. Since she woke up in the morning, the sorceress has been counting down the hours until midnight and as they dwindle down her mind unhelpfully supplies scenarios of them getting caught. (It doesn’t even occur to her that they might fail in rescuing Prince Zander from whatever plot King Cedrick has devised; at least, it hadn’t occurred to her until Juliet mentions it while doing her hair up pretty. With that brought to her attention, she imagines what the three of them will look like with their guts turned into garlands.)

The sorceress takes a few deep breaths as they make their way to the banquet hall, stealing glances at the archer through her peripheries to keep herself calm. (Ugh, why couldn’t they have stayed in their room and given each other makeovers? Right, right. Because they’re saving love and right now that means doing what they can to expose a king who sits on a throne of lies and save the brother who got in his way.) Earlier she had explained to Juliet the potion, its potency, and how long they will have until it should take effect–– meaning that timing will be everything. She also explains, however briefly, how the potion has a light layer of camouflage that will keep tails, fins, and fingers from being pointed their way should it be found out that magic is involved. (It works by drumming up the king’s belief that they are just two feeble minded women, unfit for their roles as heroes, thus making him far less likely to suspect them even with a lone meeting with Juliet. Willow was extra diligent in making sure to do everything possible to shield the besmirched archer from further damage.)

While they enter the celebration together, make their initial rounds together, the two slowly drift to mingle on their own–– as part of the plan. True to what Juliet mentioned earlier while fixing her hair, both queens have made an appearance and Willow has spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out how to get a moment with either of them (or both). However they remain surrounded by an entourage of other ladies of the court, all of whom seem to be expressing sympathies with the queen of Okeanos after such a terrifying encounter with the prince. 'This is impossible. I can't just barge in on these ladies.' She groans internally as she tries to think of a way to speak with the queens and, remembering that she had seen Prince Dylan earlier, she scans the crowd for the teenager. When she spots him, surrounded by a threatening number of teenage boys, she barrels towards the group and grabs the prince by the arm.

“Hey,” she says by way of announcing herself. She nods her head towards the rest of the noble sons in half-hearted acknowledgement of their existence; she doesn’t observe them long enough to get a sense of what they might be thinking (that’s probably for the best) and just pulls the prince away from them. “Introduce me to your mom, pretty please?”

“You pulled me away from the lads for this? You are a heroine of love, you can introduce yourself––”

“Gee, I wish I had thought of that myself.” She flicks his forehead. (It does feel surprisingly hollow, but she won’t mention that.) “Just, please, dude? It’s important.”

“Ah––” He rubs his head and glares at the sorceress. Though when he catches Willow's implication, his expression turns serious and he nods his head, gesturing for her to follow him. “Very well. You can use my talents in other ways, you know. I have been keeping with my studies and practicing my swordsmanship for an entire three full days now–– I really think that I am ready for more responsibilities. Cassia, too. You cannot keep writing us off with these mindless tasks.”

“You won’t believe me when I say this, but I am being honest, you and Cassia both have been an immeasurable help to our investigation.” Though she probably wouldn't divulge everything to the prince now–– she still doesn't trust him to mind his business–– she keeps herself especially brief now that they are within earshot of the gaggle of ladies. “You’ll see.”

The prince is visibly unsatisfied with this response, but Willow knows that he will only ever be satisfied when they tell him he can dive headfirst into the action. (She understands his frustration; really, she does. Perhaps when this is all over she’ll have a heart to heart with the prince, because maybe he’ll listen if she’s more truthful about the reality of hero work.)

Once they have arrived in front of the group, the prince politely asks for his mother and aunt’s attention so that they might meet the heroine from the other side themselves. The ladies agree and though they fan away, eyes remain on them. Willow can feel them crawling over the back of her head and up her arms, appraising her and trying to undo her all at once. She tries to ignore this in favor of paying attention to both queens, offering them a pleasant smile as Prince Dylan introduces her. She curtsies (as best she can underwater) and Queen Cleodora, surprisingly, breaks from tradition to reach for Willow’s hand. (This causes her to blush.)

“Willow James! I was wondering when you would finally make your introduction. My son speaks highly of you.” (“Mother!”) “More than that, you have managed to accomplish what no governess has managed–– you have got him taking his studies seriously for once. I nearly shed a tear.”

“Mother, please, you’re embarrassing me.”

Queen Cleodora pays her son no mind and instead dismisses him from the conversation so that he may return to his friends. He does so gladly, but gives both Willow and his mother a wary look, frightened of what they might say about him when he’s gone. Once out of earshot, Willow compliments the prince in earnest and speaks to his determination and tenacity. (She really does admire him and believes he has promise with the right guidance.)

Then, knowing that there are eyes on them, not just the ladies of the court, but the king's inner circle as well, Willow keeps the conversation light. She offers compliments to the queens on their style, mentioning how it is reminiscent of some of the styles that are becoming vogue in Evermore. When they both lean in, obviously intrigued by any information regarding Evermore, Willow happily divulges about life on the other side and what kind of fashion faux pas she is aware of. After several minutes of extended and in-depth “girl talk,” the eyes in the room shift away from the women and Willow takes this as her cue to drift towards a more secluded area in the banquet hall where she continues the conversation on slang, customs, and her favorite activities. Certain that they are no longer being watched (at least not as closely as before), she keeps her easy smile while her eyes look at the queens with urgency. “As much as I love sharing about where I’m from, I’m sure you can guess that I am not really here to talk about myself. Your majesties, if you have any information to spare on the missing prince… it would be greatly appreciated.”

Both queens, actresses themselves, keep their expressions pleasant but neither is immediately forthcoming. Queen Cleodora seems to defer to Queen Adelaide, and Queen Adelaide seems choked by the idea of speaking of what happened. Perhaps shame or fear or both mixing in her eyes, revealed by the slightest twitch of her lip. Still, Willow persists, not willing to back down until she is certain the queens won’t speak. “May I at least ask about this rivalry between the brothers? I am concerned about the missing prince and with each day that passes, I worry he will be gone for good. The ocean is big after all.” She says this even if she knows the prince is encased in stone in the garden of glory. She says this and challenges the queens to lie to her.

There is a moment of pause and the queens exchange a thousand word glance before Queen Adelaide breaks the silence. “You must understand, Willow James, I hadn’t a clue what would happen to Zander by cutting our thread–– I was just,” she chokes, one hand falling to her stomach; the second queen wraps an arm consolingly around her shoulder. “Cedrick was beyond livid when he made this discovery himself and the virtoil spilling from his lips–– I feared for my life." The queen sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. When she is ready, she starts again. "But, really, when I accepted his terms, I was just trying to do what was best for…” Her gaze drops to her hand and, for the briefest moment, her smile falters but when she lifts her head back up, it’s back again; though her eyes are moist and reflect her fear. “Zander wanted it as well once I told him of Cedrick's threats–– he didn’t trust his brother to keep his word, mind you, but he could not risk it. Neither of us could.”

“I can assure you that I'm not judging." She takes a beat to measure her words carefully in consideration of what the queen has revealed through suggestion. “I don’t think Juliet will either, but I will let her speak for herself on the matter. In any case, none of this changes our commitment to locating the missing prince and curing him of his affliction. To everything else... Well, I am on your side." She lets that sit between the three of them, so they know that Willow James is not lying when she promises her allegiances. "Do you have any information that might help us narrow our search? Or an idea of what might be going on in King Cedrick's head?”

“I am afraid that is all I know. His majesty has kept me to my bedchambers since the incident, fearing I might cause him more embarrassment. I have hardly seen him to be quite honest.”

“If there is anything I know of my brother, it is that his rivalry with Zander became personal when it was discovered his thread was tied to Adelaide.” Queen Cleodora inches a bit closer to Willow. “I fear for my lost brother, Willow James. Especially with how jovial Cedrick has been in recent days. If we hear of anything, we’ll send word. In the meantime, please keep my son in check. For whatever reason, he seems to listen to you.”

Willow flushes at that and nods. She then thanks both queens for the conversation and turns back towards the rest of the celebration. Knowing that Juliet should be back from her part of the plan, she scans the crowd and, upon seeing that sweep of red hair near one of the anchored tables full of Okeanos desserts, she grins and slowly makes her way over. She brushes against the archer's arm and, while her grin is not appropriate given what she has just learned, she can't help it around Juliet. She just likes seeing her. “Do any of these desserts compare to flaming red cake?” (That, again, is just red velvet.) She grabs something that looks like it’s covered in shaved coconut and pops it into her mouth. She hums, satisfied with her choice, and grabs another. As she chews, she covers her mouth and relays what she learned from the queens in a hushed tone. She lowers her hand and finishes with, “The queens adored how you styled my hair,” as if she had only been engaging in more "girl talk."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet might not be the perfect actress, but she’s learned from the best. And to survive one has to adapt. Observe. She taught herself to steel her expressions the same way she taught herself to aim and fight. Ever since the spotlight found her, she had to perform like her life depended on it, decoded the correspondence between every nuance, gesture and rumor. (She never had the luxury of blending seamlessly into the shadows like some people do, nor can she control where that spotlight shines down. Now she uses the sharp edges of the shadows cast all around her like knives.) From the moment she enters the banquet hall, Juliet notices that the king watching her the same way that she’s watching him. He has plans for her, for his brother… but he doesn’t know what she knows.

Offering obligatory introductions to the nobles who stop her (reluctantly so, because they’re all acting too) to offer condolences about him or wish her family well. Juliet gradually approaches the king’s inner circle. She has ‘urgent’ news for him and mustn’t dally too much. However, she takes just enough time to ensure he has a goblet full of wine in his hand. There. Before she goes, she casts a cursory glance across the hall to locate Willow and notes her position among the teenage boys. She decides not to question her partner’s motives when she’s proven herself to be quite thorough and conscientious.

Juliet strikes at her first opportunity, bowing her head when she appears before the king and his cohorts. She keeps her expression neutral but furrows her brow ever so slightly, to appear concerned while also trying not to appear concerned. (The art is in the subtlety of it. Dramatics and overacting are for the likes of Lavinia Laurence, who do silly things like pretending to faint to separate the ‘boys from the men’ or some such nonsense like that. Juliet had been too busy observing the fish in the lake that day to catch the twisted logic of that particular test.) King Cedrick is among ‘friends’ (fin-kissing noblemen) and it’s unnerving, especially after what she and Willow overheard the other day at the so-called ‘gentlemen’s club’. Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what you know.

“Well, if it isn’t the heroine of love herself. Juliet August! To what do we owe the pleasure? I was just thinking…” A man with an emerald-green tail speaks in a bombastic voice, all mockery stashed behind the poise of a refined ‘gentleman’, slowly spelling it out that he thinks the concept of a ‘heroine of love’ is ridiculous.

“Were you?” Juliet tilts her head with mock curiosity, cutting in during the man’s dramatic pause. Whatever he was going to say, she’s certain she wouldn’t have liked it anyway… and she’s satisfied watching how she puts a dent in his demeanor. “Forgive me, sir, I’ve no time for small talk. There is a matter most urgent I must discuss with the king.”

“I was just thinking that it is a shame that we cannot celebrate Prince Zander’s recovery alongside the king’s legendary victory.” The man attempts to press on as if she had never spoken at all. These men must feel heard and they must be given a space in which they are allowed to be heard, of course. If they are not granted at least that then they pitch fits like wee toddlers. “The crisis is getting out of hand, is it not? Though I suppose it is only natural. For a woman such as yourself, this line of work mustn’t be easy. Or… could it be that you’re here to seek the king’s guidance on this matter?”

“Indeed.” Juliet nods. (“Indeed?”) She flickers her gaze anxiously across the hall and lowers her voice, as if to be courteous of the other guests and their oh-so delicate ears. “In fact, I’ve discovered something rather… disquieting in regards to Prince Zander.”

Juliet relishes the gazes of badly-disguised fear traded among the men. King Cedrick’s rosy cheeks drain of their color.

“I… I see. Lady Juliet, might we discuss this matter in private? We needn’t disturb the other guests.” The king waves frantically at his men to disperse. “Enjoy the evening, gentlemen.”

***​

They make their leave, navigating the castle halls. Juliet steers them towards the east wing and watches from her periphery as the king takes a visible breath of relief upon realizing that she isn't taking him to the gardens. (Don't get too comfortable, your majesty.) Calming enough to talk, he offers her a belittling smile and empty reassurances about the rumors among their ‘frazzled’ castle staff and their ‘meaningless’ ghost stories. She passes the torn portrait and stops next to the wall where the disappearing room was. Knowing now that the voices she heard were connected to the story between Adelaide and Zander, she understands that it’s relevant enough without revealing anything much too significant. (There is this devious part of her that's curious to see what he would do if she were to corner him with everything she knows in that very moment. She's eager to push him off the ledge he's on, eager to watch him shatter. All in good time. She needs to wait. All the more satisfying if his whole kingdom gets to see him fall. One on one, it becomes his word against her own... and she already knows how that story goes.) She runs the pad of her thumb lightly over the vial Willow had given her. With this, they can get him to dig his own grave.

“I noticed the torn portrait, thinking it relevant to your brother's transformation… and then I saw into what I believe was a secret room.” Juliet gestures to the wall where the mysterious room had been that first day. “When I returned it vanished. I must admit, it was quite distressing. Your majesty, do you know anything about this?”

“Ah, is that right? I will set your mind at ease, Lady Juliet.” The king sighs like a father who must bring himself to search for nonexistent monsters under the bed. He searches about their surroundings for a place to set his drink down and Juliet wordlessly offers to hold it for him. All according to plan thus far. The second he turns his back to press his hands over the bricks to prove to her there is no such room, she wastes no time in tipping the potion into his wine. “There used to be such a room. The castle has been renovated since then.You might have seen it during a childhood stay. Perhaps you misremembered?”

Juliet stashes the potion away and hands the king his drink when he turns around to face her again. Her stomach turns as he takes a sip (briefly, she remembers the bitter taste of the potion she took when--) and relaxes again when he has no reaction whatsoever to it. Whew. Willow James could have very easily set her up in a situation such as this, but Juliet cannot bring herself to suspect her of having such intentions. Yet. (She needs to be wary of this mentality, of course, but now... would not be an opportune time to strike.) She believes Willow when she says she does not want to see the potion traced back to her. This is dangerous, on some level, but also reasonable when she considers their circumstances.

"...The wood has been changing in mysterious ways ever since the first Lightless incident, your majesty. These recent 'hauntings' give me reason to believe that prince Zander might still be somewhere within castle walls. In fact, that may be the only way to explain these strange occurrences." Juliet suggests, watching him carefully as he nearly chokes on his next sip of wine. "Perhaps it is his memories that your staff have been troubled with recently?"

"No, no. It's the damned sea witches." The king dismisses her gravely. (Never mind the fact that 'sea witches' have yet to come up on their stay. Strange, is it not? What a convenient excuse. Must be the same witch that inflected him with the curse.) The king shifts and takes another sip of wine. It clearly hasn't taken effect yet... but he's well on his way, isn't he? "Let us return, Lady Juliet. We are missing the festivities."

There is plenty that Juliet could say to that. 'Why risk your kingdom with such nonsense when there are these supposed 'sea witches' lingering about?' Or perhaps 'Why didn't you speak of the sea witches earlier?' She stays silent. All in good time.

In case it isn't enough, in case something goes wrong... Juliet allows him to swim a few paces ahead of her, forging an obsidian arrow in the palm of her hand.

***​

"Nothing compares to flaming red cake." Juliet says automatically, secure in her opinion on this matter when Willow asks. However, she does nod with approval when she reaches for one of the flaky coconut bombs. Those are quite nice as well. Incomparable to flaming red cake, as she said, but nothing compares to flaming red cake. "The fish blankets are worth trying as well." (The platter she nods to holds a stack of seafood crepes.) Her expression sobers when Willow begins to speak of the king and his threats. It isn't such a surprise, truly, but to hear it for herself only validates the decision she just made. (I targeted a king. Her heart leaps.) "Compliments from the queens? That is high praise indeed." She brings her own voice down to tell Willow of her own side-- the fact that she was able to pour the potion into his wine, that he drank some, and his recent decision to blame the hauntings on 'sea witches'.

Juliet checks the time. Ten sixteen. They're steadily approaching midnight, yes, but they still have time. It may be restless, just waiting there.

"...We should dance." Juliet isn't normally inclined to take to the dance floor at these gatherings, but this decision is for strictly strategic purposes. "They wish for us to be distracted, so we best remain within plain sight." She takes Willow by the hands and guides her to the floor. She takes one hand in her own and brings the other to her waist. "Underwater dancing takes some getting used to. Fortunately there are no steps to memorize." It mostly involves a lot of swaying. The more daring couples will perform different flips and moves that can only be accomplished underwater.

"Make sure to keep an eye on the king." Juliet whispers into Willow's ear when the dance brings them close. "...If he goes anywhere, we should follow. And if he makes a speech, which I'm sure he will, that's our opportunity to catch him in a lie."

 

[starboob]

As happily as she can manage, Willow James pops another “coconut bomb” into her mouth while Juliet August shares about her encounter with King Cedrick. (She does not take her up on the suggestion to try a “fish blanket,” because it looks like a crepe and Willow James despises crepes. They are just pancakes that are trying too hard to be tortillas and she will never forget her disappointment when she finally tried one.) It takes everything in the sorceress to not sour when blame is unsurprisingly cast on sea witches. Though whether or not that is a truth or an excuse is yet to be determined and something they can inquire once the potion is set to take effect. (With casters here being blamed for everything that goes wrong in the kingdoms of Folklore, she reasons that it could be casters who are responsible for the hauntings. And she believes they would be entirely justified in taking out their vengeances on the royals who have gone out of their way to persecute them. She may not agree with them or their ways, but this is their fight and not hers; even if she is a sorceress herself, she is from Evermore where magic is electric in the air and not something that anyone fears.)

She is thankful that Juliet offers the distraction of dancing, because she’s not certain what she would do for the next hour and forty-four minutes other than simmer and stew and possibly run through imaginary scenarios where she speaks up for all the casters in Folklore. (And one dark one where she shows them why they should fear casters.) Though she knows that the archer is only asking her to dance so that they appear distracted, her be-freckled cheeks still color and she imagines a world where Juliet asks her to dance for the sake of wanting to be close and intimate without being so gross about it in public. (Although, dancing across Evermore can be way too intimate and gross now that she’s thinking about it.) Even if this is just for show, it is nice to be… well, not close, because Folklore seems a little more old-fashioned than Evermore, but it is nice to pretend that she’s hers. That their hands keeping them together means something. That maybe the hand on her waist will daringly sink lower and become the salacious gossip of the ton. Her cheeks darken at that thought and somehow find an even darker shade when Juliet whispers in her ear. (At least her blushing maiden tendencies are good cover for the ever watchful eyes angling over them like searchlights.) She nods at her partner’s instruction, her eyes drifting over to the king whenever her position allows her to keep watch.

And is it just Willow or does he look a little less lustrous than before? Perhaps Willow is reading too deeply into this, but his kingly hair is looking more drab and dead than before. It’s probably just in her head. She’s probably just paranoid because Juliet successfully slipped him the potion she brewed that will help catch him in a lie. ‘Oh my gods. What if I brewed the wrong potion and just gave him permanently flat hair?’ Even if that would probably be mortifying to King Cedrick, his annoying hair is not the focus on their efforts. She tries to stamp out this worry by replaying the exact steps she followed while brewing the concoction. (The very steps she wrote and used her freshman year to hex Kinsley Prescot.) ‘No, no, you’re definitely just in your head about this, WJ. That was definitely a truth potion.’

The minutes tick down at a snail’s pace and where she wants to be grateful for the opportunity to dance with Juliet, it becomes more difficult to focus the closer they get to midnight. Still, she doesn’t motion for them to stop and any time she feels herself getting stuck on a thought, she just trains her eyes on Juliet and her warm brown eyes. Once settled again, she returns to watching the players in the room, from the king to all his men. The inner circle, for the most part, appear pleasantly rose-faced and she ventures to guess they won’t need to worry too much about them. A few of the nobles they spied on, however, have stopped drinking. This isn’t necessarily odd, but they seem to be alert; more than that, she notes that they are positioned near the entrances to the banquet hall. The king, also, has since stopped imbibing (he did finish the potioned glass) though he still flocks through the crowd like a peacock, shining under all the attention. Willow also minds the queens and how they have not interacted with the king much, if at all. However, the moment that the sorceress notes this, King Cedrick approaches his wife and makes a show of asking her to dance. She hesitates for no more than half a second and takes his hand, but in that half second Willow swears she sees laser beams firing up in King Cedrick’s eyes even from this distance.

She stiffens a bit as the monarchs make to the dance floor and swallows hard, keeping her gaze focused on Juliet now. Slowly and surely the other couples dancing part from the floor to give the king and his queen some space; this includes Willow and Juliet though Willow doesn’t let go of Juliet’s hand, unaware she is still holding onto her. “I don’t like this,” she whispers, eyes flickering over to the clock that gives a thirty minute warning. She squeezes Juliet’s hand. “I have a toasty-toasty feeling about this.”

It’s not lost on Willow that the king is sharing the last dance with the queen; that, despite the ripeness of the hour, he is not making a grand speech because this is meant to be his showcase. This isn’t hard to put together. It only makes her anxious that she doesn’t know what to expect, only that it cannot be good. Her eyes shift around to the few men who sobered up and positioned themselves at the hall entrances (and possible entrances, like windows and skylights). She notes how many of them have their hands on their hips or at their side, near their swords. Willow takes this as a cue to be ready herself, finally letting go of Juliet’s hand to cover her bracelet-staff, ready to summon Fearless (her sword’s current name) at a moment’s notice. (Thanks to Cassia, she was able to look over maps of the castle, making it easier for her to orient her summoning spells.)

The king whispers something in Queen Adelaide’s ear and while her smile is pinned up, the color drains from her face and her eyes widen just ever so slightly. King Cedrick chuckles at her reaction and pulls her in, wrapping her in his arms and resting her head on his chest. It might have looked sweet if it didn’t seem like an entrapment–– or at least, if Willow hadn’t known better. The rest of the audience seems to be fooled with their hands over their chest and mouths open in awe–– all except for Queen Cleodora who only gives a lip twitch of faux approval. (How does no one else see her trembling in his arms?)

During this sweet moment, the lights flicker then go out, plunging the celebration into darkness; murmurs turn to high pitched screams from the ladies of the court. Willow takes this as her cue to summon Fearless and she can hear the king’s men barking at everyone to stay calm, claiming the lights are merely out. (It sounds rehearsed.) Thud. The ceiling shakes, the glass that makes up the skylight shutters–– thud! It cracks under what sounds like an enlarged fist, though it’s still too dark to see anything. Thud! The crack splits into scraggly lightning and adds to the panic in the room and, despite that, the men posted at the doors are not allowing anyone to flee. (Willow catches snippets of, “It is merely a lost octopus, no need to fret, Lady Greenlake,” and, “Our king shall handle this, rest assured–– the party must go on!”) A crash rains over head, glass splinters through the water as it scatters and two pairs of blistering neon yellow eyes light up the banquet hall.

Willow clutches her blade, but doesn’t raise to strike just yet not when everything is so––

The lights all flash on at once, momentarily disorienting everyone, but once confusion is settled a large serpentine creature with a black body and dots of bright yellow down its spine now twists around in the middle of the dance floor. Its eyes search the crowd, almost seeming startled by all the people and reactively hisses, baring its sharp needle like teeth; it flares its spine-length dorsal fin in warning. (Willow nearly backs away from the Lightless on instinct, but has to remind herself of the people watching and that she is supposed to be a heroine.)

The king, in all his kingliness, steps protectively in front of his wife and calls to the beast, “Begone, spawn of evil, you have no business here!”

The spawn of evil shrieks, the power of its cry pulsing harshly through the water with enough force to break the remaining windows and stirs those with enough sense to scatter and make for the new exits. (This time, the king’s men allow it, perhaps satisfied that the crowd has had a chance to see the threat.) Though some still remain, like the teenagers who seem to be working on a brazen plan, the couples too frightened to move, and a few lords who are determined to stand with their king. The creature then launches towards the king and, again, as if rehearsed, the king stands fierce and waits for the slightest opening to wrap his wraps around it, wrestling it to the floor and away from his wife. “Do not make me end you as I have the stone hydra.”

The Lightless thrashes in the king’s grip, trying to whip the king with its tail, trying to reach around and bite him, but Cedrick’s hold is effective enough that the teeth miss. The tail nearly hits him, but he lets the beast go (or the beast escapes, depending on the angle one is viewing this fight from) and rather than rear to go for Cedrick again, the Lightless aims for Queen Adelaide. (Were it not for them already being underwater, tears would have been streaking her cheeks.) “Z-Zander,” she whimpers, swimming up and out of the prince’s way. “Please–– don’t. He’s going to––”

“Brother?” King Cedrick feigns shock though his eyes are blazing, bloodshot at his wife’s remarks (her almost warning). (While Willow has already caught onto the staged nature of this “crisis,” she still has remained in place. Partially because of her own fear and partially because she learned after their encounter with the stone hydra that where Cedrick and his legendary status are concerned, it is best for the both of them to stay put. Besides, with the way this is playing out, she imagines there will be an opening at any moment.) “Brother, is it true?” One hand falls to his chest, while the other falls to his sword, trying to make himself seem remorseful rather than eager. “Come back to your family, brother. I beg you–– whatever has come over you? Who has done this to you?”

“Yeah,” Willow’s mouth moves without her being totally aware that she’s speaking. She can't really hear herself over the bloodrush clogging her ears. (She is lucky that she is underwater, otherwise her jelly legs would be obvious.) “King Cedrick, who has done this to your brother?”

 

[ellarose]

“I know.” The hesitant wavering of King Cedrick’s tone doesn’t match the certainty of his response. Juliet observes with well-disguised amusement as his face contorts, transparently displaying his internal conflict over what he intended to say versus the confirmation that escaped his lips instead. It worked. (It’s incredible, really. It is one thing to hear about what Willow James can do with her magic and another to see the effects unfold with her own eyes. Never before would she have even dreamed that this was possible— that a potion could be concocted to persuade a mighty, infallible king to confess his sins.) His silent panic grows as the room of party guests— his kingdom, the audience he gathered and endangered all to serve his own ego— stir and subsequently quiet themselves as not to miss a word of what their king has to say. (All this time, he held meaningless meetings designed to lead the kingdom astray on his brother’s whereabouts. He cannot claim to know nothing after what he just said.) His eyes are wide and disbelieving and perhaps for the first time in his life he’s wishing he could disappear from sight. Smoothing his fingers back through his hair (if he thinks that might smooth over the situation, it won’t) his mouth and eyes twitch in his exertion to save face. Once more, Juliet knows that he’s going to try and lie again. To his family, to his wife. “I know who has done this.”

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work. Gasps are elicited from every corner of the banquet hall and the king’s grip over his brother wavers. ‘He knows.’ The Lightless thrashes to take advantage of this, yellow spots gleaming threateningly in the dark. ‘But he said before he hadn’t a clue as to how this fate befell prince Zander—‘ The king wrestles Zander down again. His throat bobs with a heavy gulp, his hand closing and shutting indecisively over the hilt of his magic sword.

“Who, then? Who has done this to him?” Queen Adelaide asks. Whether this news surprises her or not is difficult to say. It seems she’s surprised to hear him say this, at the very least. The admission is a shock. (And the admission, once more, is thanks to Willow James.) “If you know you must tell us.”

“No! You all misunderstand. What I meant to say was…” The king tries again, struggling in every possible way. Juliet merely tilts her head, her expression blank and unimpressed. (She quite enjoys watching him squirm. Especially after seeing the way he held the queen against him on the dance floor. Just like... Holding her close enough to feel her tense against him, to know her protest without hearing or heeding it. Frightening her, using her as an accessory, breaking her heart. No, she doesn’t like him. He deserves this and everything that’s coming for him. How else can a king be made to take accountability for any of his actions?) She keeps her hand idly by her waist, near the belt of pearls at the waistline of her dress where her knife and two antidote arrows are safely tucked away. “I know.”

He knows, he knows. Of course he knows. Once again, King Cedrick’s own mouth betrays him. His cheeks burn a fierce rage-red and he directs this frustration towards his brother, a vein in his neck popping out and his knuckles whitening as he tightens his grip. A few of the nobles back away slowly, as if hesitant now to rush to his aid.

“You’re hurting him. Stop it!” Queen Adelaide’s hands are clenched over her heart. Their thread may be severed, but whatever love might have existed between the two of them wells sincerely in her eyes. It overpowers fear, it overpowers anything that might have previously kept her silenced. “He is still your brother, Cedrick. Please, don’t do this. You must allow the heroines to heal—“

“This monster is no longer my brother! Look at him!” King Cedrick bellows so loudly that the anguished queen flinches back from the sound. He’s so obsessed with his own narrative to see the way his actions are impacting the people all around them. To see the way this paints him as the true monster. Prince Dylan swims forward to get a better view of the scene, the expression on his face frightened, and his mother yanks him back by the arm. “It is an impossible decision but it is one that must be made. To protect you and the rest of the kingdom, I must put him out of his misery!”

“Cedrick!” Queen Cleodora yells as if she is the eldest and not the youngest sibling, holding Dylan to her side as if that might protect him from the reality of this situation.

“No!” Queen Adelaide screams. Others gasp and make their own exclamations— but clearly, none of this is enough to talk sense into a king that has already lost his head. Prince Dylan appears rather torn between staying in the comfort of his mother’s arms or launching himself forward into the action. (Thankfully, he notices Juliet making her move and stays put.)

King Cedrick raises his gleaming blade high above his head, swings it down… and with a noisy ‘clang’ it clashes with Juliet’s dagger instead of the cursed prince. Because while he may be fast, Juliet August is even faster. She puts herself between the two brothers, pressing forward to increase the distance between them, glaring openly at the king. The stage is set, they’re in the spotlight. Even in the darkness of the hall, everyone’s eyes are on them. There's one moment, two, where everyone present seems to collectively hold their breath.

“You… you see? This is why women cannot take the place of true heroes.” King Cedrick draws his blade back, scanning the crowds as if to find reassurance from someone. While he may be furious with her on the inside, he would not dare to fight her when he doesn’t view her as a worthy opponent. At least not before an audience. Behind closed doors, though? Who knows what he might be capable of? (Just like…) At this moment, he’s also much too fixated on his brother’s fate. It’s two minutes past midnight and nothing has gone according to his plans. He glowers at the queens, at Willow, and then back at Juliet. “You’re all much too soft! Allowing him to live endangers everyone.” The Lightless (Zander) wriggles free and swims towards the roof, seeking refuge or escape. (He’s not threatening anyone. He’s frightened.) The king gestures wildly to his guards. “Apprehend him at once! Do not allow him to escape!”

King Cedrick grabs Juliet by her shoulders and pushes her towards one of the guards who had rushed to his side amid the chaos. “You there. Watch over Lady Juliet and keep her sa—“

Oh, for goodness sake.

“No! Let him go. He’s a danger to everyone so long as he stays within these walls.” Juliet pushes herself free of his arms. “And you kept him here knowing that all along. Am I correct?” The guard grabs her again and she scowls openly. (Hands off, hands off, hands—)

“Yes.” The king ‘protests’. When he realizes that he agreed with her, told the truth instead of a lie, his eyes again grow wide. “I knew all along.” His eyes proceed to grow wider. If they become any wider Juliet fears they may explode out of their eye sockets. That would be… disgusting. The guard releases her in shock. (Apparently, this one is not privy to the king’s secret plans.)

“Then I believe that is precisely the reason why the kingdom has been troubled with these recent ‘hauntings’. There is much we don’t know about the Lightless… but on the land, it is becoming evident that they have an unknown effect on the environments they dwell in.” Juliet grits her teeth, setting her eyes on the prince, who keeps eluding capture from the guards by slithering about frantically. The light fixtures swing as they’re bumped against, one falls and collapses one of the dessert tables. (Not the fish blankets! Ah. It’s such a shame.) “You’ve requested my presence here for this exact purpose. Put your kingdom first, your majesty, and allow us to take care of it. No one will have to get hurt.”

Juliet tracks the Lightless’s movements, a plan slowly formulating. Protecting the people should be their first priority. Unlike the king, they will not kill to achieve their own ends. She swims towards Willow, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I have a plan.” Juliet claims, her voice low. She slips one of her two antidote arrows to Willow, once again to give her a means to subdue the Lightless before it can harm her if it comes to that. “I intend to move him from the castle the same way we moved the hydra.” She taps on their thread indicatively. (It sends a meaningless thrill through her, which she assumes is the nervousness of challenging the king of Okeanos himself. It’s not because she’s acknowledging the thread or the advantages that come with it or anything like that.) The men are shouting. Prince Zander is starting to snap back at them. “Stay here— be prepared to follow when I make my way for the windows. Ready?”

Whether the sorceress is ready or not, Juliet rushes like a torpedo towards the Lightless and the guards. They move in a panic to avoid striking her with their weapons as she weaves herself around Zander, dodging other shell-themed light fixtures and archways in the ceiling as she does so. Their thread snares around the Lightless as planned and she begins to swim towards one of the back windows. (A few voices below acknowledge that this looks somehow similar to the hydra fight. Well… that’s strange, isn’t it?) If they head this way… they’ll near the shipwreck. But they should be able to heal the prince before they reach that point. Once they’re away from this crowd it should be quite simple. Or so she hopes.

But nothing can ever be that simple, can it? From behind, King Cedrick yanks Willow backwards, grip tight around her arms to prevent her from leaving. By extension, this also drags Juliet and Zander back in through the window as well. “I will take care of this matter myself! Zander is my brother, therefore it is my responsibility to deal with him.”

 

[starboob]

‘What.’ For a split second, the lights in the room all dim and a blistering spotlight shines down on Willow James, all eyes on her. (A blistering spotlight doesn’t actually shine down on the rising hero, but it certainly feels that way with how she has accidentally captured everyone’s attention.) The sorceress swallows hard, thankful that the underwater environment conceals the bullets of sweat that would certainly be pouring from her browline were they on land. For a full three seconds, she stops breathing and remains stiff, perhaps hopeful that if she remains still enough she will turn invisible or, better yet, disappear from existence. (Every day of her life, she regrets learning the concept of object permanence.)

Then the king speaks, answers her question, and the spotlight shifts over to him, allowing Willow to breathe a sigh of relief. She clenches her fists at her sides to calm their tremble and does her best to tighten up her expression so that she doesn’t look so much like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a wolf. There are people watching. People who expect her to be a heroine of love and while she’s learning the expectations have been lowered because she is a woman, that only means the stakes are twice as high. (For every mediocre man in a position of power, there are at least three women whose ideas he stole for himself. She should know this, being part of the academy. “Willow James, you are already an exceptional student, a promising scholar, and that alone will not be enough. You will need to harden yourself to ice if you intend to succeed.”) The pressure is on. If Willow hadn’t been feeling it before, she certainly is now as the reality settles that Juliet and herself are taking on the king of Okeanos; that they have schemed against a king and forced him out of his own lies. Still, this all was done in the silence of shadows and fingers, tails, and fins will not point back to them even if the knowledge and objective truth is that this came about because of them (her and her); no one will ever know.

However, the knowledge that the heroines of love are committed to their duties, unlike the king who would sooner sacrifice his men and kingdom for a few measly legends, will stick in the minds of the remaining witnesses. (The king who has willingly and voluntarily outed his own position, revealing that he knew all along the danger he was putting everyone in, will be remembered.) It becomes increasingly clear, at least to anyone with a working brain and two ounces of critical thinking, that this is all a farce to execute his monstrous brother. Because would it not be easier to go to blows with a monster than a brother? The story certainly sounds more tragic if a king must slay his monstrous brother, but that is not the story that will be written tonight, thanks to Juliet August and Willow James.

Oddly enough, as the king gets more tangled in his own lies, as the queens speak against him, as his men cower away from him, as he loses the trust of his nephew… the less anxious Willow feels. Her hands stop trembling and her eyes become set in their resolve to see the king’s demise. (Maybe this is practice for another King.) It’s not just the knowledge that, in this moment, they have the support of the witnesses, it’s also knowing that she’s not in Evermore anymore. She isn’t bound by the expectations of the Willow James who exists there. Here, she can unabashedly be the Willow James of her dreams–– the one who is fearless. No one knows what to expect from her so this is her chance to set the expectation. As mortifying as it was in the aftermath of running her mouth and asking the damning question, she lived. She’s still in one piece. The world hasn’t ended–– in fact, it’s being saved. (At least this small section of it.) And the more she thinks on this, she is reminded of all the other times she has survived through discomfort, awkwardness, social snafus, and, now, monsters and villains of several forms and sizes. ‘I am Willow James. I can do this. I can do this.’ She can do this and she has Juliet August to help her. She’s not alone. They’re not alone.

Juliet August is quick, she might as well be an arrow herself with the way she moves through the water to protect Zander. Not only is she quick, she is smart, spinning this narrative so that it is clear that what has been happening is due to the manipulations of the king. While the archer talks, the sorceress tracks the Lightless around the room, watching as fixtures crash and knock into the table full of disappointing pancake-tortillas. (Good riddance.) Though Willow doesn’t have her brother’s gift of animal communication, it’s obvious that Zander isn’t trying to cause harm; he’s doing what any trapped, caged animal would. Yet the king is bent on his narrative and Willow fears he will stop at nothing to see this through–– even if it will surely not result in the tale he is hopeful will be immortalized in history. ‘Not if the heroines of love have anything to say about it, at least.’

Willow nods when Juliet comes towards her with a plan, taking the arrow firmly in her grip, while she ignores the electric zing through her heart when she twangs their thread. (She is only acknowledging their thread because of its usefulness, Willow reminds herself, but she is acknowledging it and she is helpless to imagine where this could lead.) The sorceress follows the red torpedo through the banquet hall, paying no mind to the others around her as she prepares herself to follow once Zander is appropriately bound. Just when she thinks she might have her moment, large hands clasp around her arms and pull her backwards.

She squeaks in response to the suddenness of the jerk, then gasps at the pressure around her arms, feeling the bruises bloom under the king’s grip. Despite that, she jerks her arms in an attempt to free herself from him to no avail. Tears form at the corner of her eyes when he clamps down harder, once more causing her to whimper. (“If anyone ever grabs you and I’m not there or Lucky isn’t there, here’s what you do…”) She scrambles to remember what self-defense Leif taught her, but even then she’s not quite certain it will be effective with an underwater opponent.

“He is our brother.” Queen Cleodora speaks up again, boiling the water around her with the searing gaze directed at her eldest brother. “And this is not your decision alone, Cedrick.”

“King Cedrick, little sister, lest you forget that we are in my kingdom and you are a guest.” He snarls, poison spilling into each of his words. “You dare challenge me in my own dominion?”

“When you are threatening our family...” Her gaze flickers over to Adelaide then to Zander. (Prince Dylan stares at his mother, a combination of shock and awe on his face.) “Yes, because someone needs to remind you the strength of blood. Unhand Willow James at once and quit obstructing the heroines of love or you will risk losing two siblings tonight.” From her position, she is above the king in high water and she adjusts herself so that her tail is poised to launch if her brother does not heed her warning.

All eyes shift back and forth between the Okeanos siblings, the guards too flummoxed to be useful, and the noblemen unwilling to stand with their king whose favor is dwindling with each passing second. Though Willow cannot see this, the king shifts, his unease rising with the heat of his anger, seeming to understand that his support in this matter is waning. His grip loosens around Willow’s arms and she bolts away from him as quickly as she can, temporarily ignoring the ache around her biceps. The visiting queen does not back down, however, and Willow, having learned a thing or two from Juliet, spins herself around to keep her eyes on the enemy–– just in time, too, as the king raises his gleaming sword and points it at the Lightless while Queen Cleodora bolts through the water towards the king.

Willow, in a panic, sweeps her hands through the water, her bracelet glowing as she gathers her magic to create a glyph that should move them away from the banquet and to safety. Neon blue lightning crackles around herself, Juliet, and Zander, building in intensity with each spark until it flashes, blinding everyone in the banquet hall. When the flash settles, the heroines and Zander are gone.

And they don’t exactly end up outside of the banquet hall. Well, they do, as Willow intended, but they–– just Juliet and Willow–– are no longer in Okeanos. At least not the Okeanos they know. Rather, when they land side by side, they are in wetsands and while they appear to be in the garden of glory, they are no longer underwater. That is evident when the weeklong pressure on her skull disappears and she has to push herself fully to get to her feet. (She might miss the convenience of their underwater adventure for the simple pleasure that it was fun to float all the time.) She groans and rubs the bruises on her arms as she looks around the foggy garden; it’s not just the ground that is covered in fog either, but above them is a thick layer as well. “Oh, fudge…”

Before she can even get saddled with her worries, two sparking orbs appear next to the heroines and flash to reveal their companions, along with their belongings. Lucky immediately jumps onto Willow, pushing her back into the sand, and inspects her, hissing at the bruises around her arms and flashing a searing look at Juliet. “No, no–– it wasn’t her fault. I got grabbed. It’s a long story, Lucky Duck,” (Hisses in dragon) “and no one other than the king is to blame. I can handle some bruises. I’m fine, really.”

While Lucky isn’t entirely satisfied with that explanation, they accept it for now and hop off of their companion so that she can lift herself to her feet again. “Where are we?” She tilts her head to look up, then spins around. “I… I did mean to take us to the garden, but I’m pretty sure my spell was supposed to transport us within the same dimension.” She bites her lip as worry creases her brow, knowing this is her fault and if she got them stuck in another dimension or worse, an alternate timeline, then they are beyond screwed as getting back is going to be tricky, if not impossible. (If Sawyer were here, she would know how to get them out but Willow isn’t even confident she can contact the wizard from a realm not connected to their own–– it was a gamble sending messages even from Folklore.) “Shoot. Mist. Shoot. Where the duck is Prince Zander?”

She rakes her fingers through her hair as her heart stampedes in her chest, riddling her with trembles. ‘This is why you never ever panic cast, WJ!’ Lucky, sensing her unease, butts their head under her chin to get the sorceress’s attention. When she looks down at them, they tilt their head and then look up at the fog-covered sky in silent suggestion. She shrugs in agreement and the dragon takes a few steps back into the small courtyard clearing, their body glowing as they grow to their full size. Their head disappears through the fog and they lift off the ground until they are entirely above the clouds.

Willow taps her temple and whispers, “Dragon eyes.” The whites of her eyes bleed through her green irises, consuming her pupils, until she has the same milky white gaze as her companion. Like this, she can see what Lucky sees and with them above the fog, she can try to place where they are at–– an alternate dimension or otherwise. And the possibility that they are beyond the sister realms becomes worryingly likely when she observes the endless starry landscape with ropes of red lightning streaking the black sky. In this nebulous region, a series of towers of all different shapes and sizes stretch up from an unseen ground. Based on the one they’re on and the few others that are near enough, the tops of the towers show labyrinths; some made of stone, others hedges, and a few of corn. None of the labyrinths seem to be the same. The only similarity that seems to be true between all of them are the center points, she assumes the exit; they are all heart shaped regions that take on glows of all different colors. Another similarity appears to be the dense fog, reminding her of the mist; though the degree to which each labyrinth is covered varies. (One labyrinth is entirely shrouded in fog and the center glow is not able to break through the density.) With the labyrinth they’re situated in, the fog is densest around the dead end they’re currently in and seems to be creeping to unaffected sections.

Once Willow has seen enough, Lucky cuts the connection and flies back down to join the group. She stumbles backwards a bit as she reorients herself, rubbing her eyes with her fists before she snaps a pad of paper and pencil into her hands. “I don’t know where we are, but I do know we’re in a labyrinth? And this isn’t even the only one. It’s weird.” She mumbles the last part and begins a rough sketch of what she saw through Lucky’s eyes.

While she does this, a younger version of Queen Adelaide appears from the edge of this garden. She floats through the rows of slain monsters, rosy cheeked, and giggling with a champagne bottle clutched in one fist. A young gentleman waits behind the statue of the hydra and as the young queen passes, he grabs her and pulls her to the side before she can rush past him. He presses her against the pedestal and captures her lips with a kiss.

From behind both heroines another figure appears–– the disheveled present-day Prince Zander. He announces his presence with a sigh. “We were crazy to think... crazy to think that this could work.”

 

[ellarose]

Breathe. Juliet claws her fingers into the muddy soil beneath her, shoulders rising and falling like waves upon the land as she gasps for breath. Suddenly breathing in lungfuls of air is jarring. They'd been submerged deep in the sea just moments before. How did... Land. Panic mingled with the change of environment roils through her, her silver blue scales shuffling away to expose her legs and she struggles to hold the monster of her fear by the throat and choke, choke, choke until it fades away without a trace. Her thin white dress is dirtied and translucent around her legs. Mother may not be present, but snide comments on her indecent state prod at the back of her mind as she collects her legs towards her chest and pushes herself upright. Her bare feet sink with a squelch. Where are they? Studying the wetlands, she instinctually brushes her hip for the comforting shape of her knife. They...? Willow James. The last thing she can remember is the sound of her companion crying out, the way it cut through her chest, and then the blinding electricity crackling around them. "Willow..." Her voice fades in her throat before it can become a statement or a question-- all it amounts to is a whisper. Seeing the bruises lining her arms and the dragon’s accusing look, she bows her head and averts her gaze. She's used to shouldering blame, accustomed to that weight. Even when they try to crush her with it, she persists regardless.

Juliet also knows this: this is the line of work Willow chose for herself. And the prince’s curse wasn’t Juliet’s fault. Even so, she does consider it her responsibility to keep her safe for as long as they’re in Folklore. Willow James does not want to be coddled, she wants to be trusted. When Juliet gives her space to grow, there is always going to be a level of risk involved. (…Then again, even Lara couldn’t keep her safe all the time. Death itself might as well have traveled with them for how often it breathed down their necks. She’ll never forget being eight years old, regaining consciousness after a fall while Lara pressed her close to her chest as if she never wanted to let her go. But she did. No one ever hugged her quite that tight before. Not until…) Detestable as the king is, she hadn't expected him to be so rough with Willow while his kingdom watched. Once more, she feels vindicated about her decision to curse the bastard. Cursing such an influential, powerful figure... heh. It's dangerous, perhaps, but also thrilling. With any luck it will put a stroke of fear in other men who trample over others without so much as a thought.

Willow does seem to trust her. While Juliet thinks it naive, she intends to honor that trust in some form-- including her in their 'fight to save love' as an equal. This small allowance doesn't change the fact that she doesn't trust anyone and nobody trusts her. This isn’t going to last. She's endured enough mistrust to become someone who shouldn’t be trusted and before long, Willow James will come to this conclusion as well. Everyone does, eventually. But for as long as things are like this between them, she intends to at least keep her safe in any way she can.

Juliet bites her lip uncertainly, leaving scrapes in her lip paint. Now… where in the kingdoms are they? She observes the wetlands, her stomach sinking when she doesn't recognize any terrain or landmarks that’d give her an indication of where they’ve ended up. The sky is a milky sheet with no sun, moon or stars to give them hints. Further ahead, there is no shape in the fog that might aid them either. They're lost. For now, that is all she is certain of. Fortunately, the sorceress doesn’t expect an impossible answer from her. She bewilderedly tilts her head back to watch as Lucky disappears through the thick soup of clouds hanging overhead and Willow James uses her ‘dragon eyes’ to get a aerial view of their location. Then she levels her gaze, ensuring that she can cover them should any unexpected danger spring up. After all, Prince Zander— or rather his Lightless form— must have traveled with them.

Finding no trace of immediate danger, Juliet brushes her hands together in attempt to clean them while she waits. In the dirt there are grain-sized fragments shaped like tiny sea stars and hearts. Her brow furrows, her brown eyes glimmering with traces of childlike wonder. It jolts through her, teasing a memory that fades before it can fully form. It’s familiar. Pressing her eyes shut, she smothers the feeling before it can sparkle and warm her. It's nothing.

“Do you recognize this place, Gracie?” Juliet asks softly, knowing she can count on her companion to distract her. (Warm feelings are reserved only for Grace, who knows her heart and still stays at her side no matter what.) The fox is carefully pawing through tall patches of grass, trying to find places where her legs won’t sink too deeply into the marsh. Her expression twists dubiously. Having grown up in the wood alongside her, her companion is not pretentious about getting messy like Elsa, Lavinia Laurence’s devilish strawberry thieving swan. It's more than the mud or the slightly sulfuric stench. Something must be setting her off. “...What is it?” Through her layers of caution, Grace's expression is the equivalent of a shrug.

Juliet readjusts her grip on the hilt of her knife. Regardless of what it is, she cannot let her guard down. She doesn't loosen her grip even when her companion explains and begins her sketch of their surroundings.

“A labyrinth.” Juliet echoes thoughtfully, watching over Willow’s shoulder as she draws. It brings her to the sidelines of a lecture on magic Millicent had given about the Lightless and the 'realms within the mind'. Unfortunately, her memory on this lecture is much too blurry to be of any use to them. Without visuals to accompany it, she'd found it rather difficult to comprehend such things. If she is to take anything from that, however, does this mean... they've somehow been transported into Prince Zander's mind? (Oh, how delightful. By which she means nightmarish. The concept of existing in any man's mind covers her head to toe in chills that only a warm, flower-filled bath might cure her of.) She unconsciously makes a heart with her hands while studying the shape that appears in the sorceress's depiction. "It's heart shaped...?"

Someone's coming. Juliet draws a sharp breath and her knife at the same time as the apparitions of a memory float through. They're no longer underwater, but the figures swim through the air with no issue. The stones from the garden rise around them with a thunderous rumble, setting a scene like props on a stage, and she watches the stolen kiss with a blank expression. (If she looks hard enough, she can see through the figures to find herself and-- and--) A voice. Juliet lost focus for only a second and now--

Alarmed, she whirls around and brandishes her knife towards the source of the voice.

"Whoa, whoa there." Prince Zander raises both of his hands, inching backward. His gaze flicks from the readied dagger in her hands to her face, squinting as he places her in his mind. Recognition widens his blue eyes. "...Lady Juliet?" He asks incredulously. Then, in spite of his despondency, he recovers and coughs out a gruff laugh. "Some things never change, I suppose." He tilts his head to look conspiratorially at Willow, seeming to gauge that that the two are friends. (Or something like that, because he seems to notice their thread as he glances between them.) "Last I saw of this one she was trying to make off with one of my daggers." He shakes his head, glancing back at Juliet as if he can't quite believe she's real. "'Necessary for survival', she says to me. One and ten years old and you were just as intense as you are now."

The prince looks between the women and the romantic scene continuing to unfold in front of them. He settles on them again as if determined to wave it off and ignore it now that he's found a convenient distraction from his painful past.

"Yeah, that expression of yours... mother of pearl, you've hardly changed. Just taller now, I suppose." He languidly holds his hand out to indicate a height of about four feet. This offends Juliet immensely. "You were about this height the last I saw of you."

"No. I was taller than that." Juliet argues, raising her chin defiantly. She was tall for her age, taller than Elise and Millicent both. (Annoyingly, though, she was never taller than Lavinia Laurence. The archer firmly believes that she's cheating due to the obnoxious stilts she always wears upon her feet. She also has a theory they're also responsible for her nastiness. It seems quite impossible for anyone to wear those torturous devices they call shoes and act agreeably at the same time.) That and, well, to imply she hasn't changed at all is ignorant when she considers all that has happened since. "And very much has changed since then. You know why we're here, do you not?"

The prince falters. He gazes from the image of a younger Adelaide to Juliet, his performative calm cracking with pity and understanding. "Ah, yes... your engagement. I remember hearing the news." He sighs. "Lady Juliet, I..."

The garden morphs into a wedding hall when the prince speaks the word 'engagement' into existence. The younger Zander and Adelaide are hiding in the shadows of another statue together, their voices quiet and urgent. The joy is no longer present and the future queen is dressed in a sparkling white wedding dress. "...Run away with me, Zander. This is our last chance." She reaches to caress his face and he moves away from her touch, stilling her hand by grabbing it in his own. ("Where is my bride!?" King Cedrick's voice comes from elsewhere, but it could put cracks in the walls with its force. "Where is Adelaide!? And Zander. Find Zander.")

"We won't last out there, Addy. I won't be able to give you the life you deserve." Zander shakes his head somberly. "It's too dangerous."

"I don't need all of this, Zander. I need you." Adelaide frantically gestures at the finery all around them. "I know what I deserve. Cedrick could offer me all the pearls in the sea and I wouldn't have what I deserve. Because I deserve love and you do, too. If you fear I'll become a burden to you, I will learn to fight. I will learn the ways of the world outside of these walls. At least give me a chance."

"I am a prince, Adelaide. Indeed I can hunt, but I hardly know the ways of the outside world myself. We've lived very sheltered lives and the outside world is merciless. We will get ourselves killed." Zander rests Adelaide's hand back at her side, draws his arm away and moves backward. He continues to shake his head, over and over again.

"Then our story becomes a tragedy either way. I would rather try. We could learn the ways of the world together." Adelaide tries to reach out again but he continues to avoid her touch. "Please. Please."

"You've read too many stories." Zander turns away, steeling his resolve. Then he raises his voice, calling attention to their hiding place. "...I've found Lady Adelaide!"

The present Zander watches helplessly as the Adelaide of the past stares at him with a look of heartbroken betrayal.

Juliet, meanwhile, watches with growing horror as the scene shifts all around them. In Adelaide's place there's a past version of Juliet wearing a wedding dress of lace and roses, hiding with bated breath in the shadows of a flower-wrapped pillar. Unlike Adelaide and Zander, though, she's all alone. Abandoned and fending for herself against her unwanted fate. Wanting to run and having no place to go. Wanting to disappear.

"Where is Juliet!?" Instead of King Cedrick's voice she hears Paris Brooks screaming her name as the memories overlap. His thundering voice lashes her like lightning bolts hurled by an angry god of storms. (The weather outside the windows emulates this, rain pelting it as flashes of lightning flood the hall.) An omen for a terrible wedding. A terrible night. "Juliet!"

"We've locked all the doors and windows as you asked, my lord. There is nowhere she could possibly escape to." A maid frets, running at his heels as he stomps about.

"Is that so?" Paris Brooks stops, standing in the hall between the pillars. Only his silhouette is visible in the darkness. (She doesn't look closely. She doesn't want to see his face again. Never again.) He raises the cage in his hands, raising the curtain draped over it to smirk at the injured Grace who cowers inside of it. "Then announce into every room that I will be mounting the fox's head upon our dining room wall if she does not materialize within the next hour." He shakes the cage specifically to startle Grace, who tenses and then cries out when she slams against the bars inside. Bastard. "The unruly thing attacked me. Good enough reason to put it down."

Juliet doesn't realize she's cutting her palms enough to draw blood with her nails from how tightly her fists are clenched until Grace brushes against her calves in the present. She blinks slowly, noticing Zander's pitying eyes on her-- the connections he's no doubt creating in his mind-- and quickly turns away.

"...This is a labyrinth. If we're to escape, we mustn't let anything distract us." Juliet presses her tone as flat as it can go to keep it from trembling like her heart does. She forces herself to move forward. As she does, the memory blots out in shades of red and black like a paper being eaten away by a flame. "Come on. We need to find a way out of here." ('There is nowhere she could possibly escape to.' The maid's voice echoes in her mind as if to combat this mentality.)

"Forgive me, I never did hear the whole story." Prince Zander continues. Perhaps thinking about her story is easier than confronting his own. Whatever the case, she wishes he would realize her discomfort and stop. He follows and yet again his eyes find their thread. "It seems you've found your soulmate. Have you, ah... run away together? You're braver than I am." Juliet's blood runs cold while he looks questioningly at Willow. "We haven't been introduced yet. I am Prince Zander of Okeanos. And you are?"

"Run away with me." A haunting voice says softly, coaxingly. The water bubbles in various places across the wetlands. Then, one by one, dirtied hands wearing shiny diamond rings emerge from the mud. They snap open and closed, reaching blindly for anything they could possibly grab ahold of. Whispers overlap whispers, turning them into an ominous roar. "Run away-- run away-- with me."

 

[starboob]

While the archer argues with the prince over how tall she was or wasn’t at eleven, Willow's curious green eyes are set on the young versions of the prince and queen. (This memory appears to match the outlined version she had witnessed in the actual garden of glory the night they had discovered half the king's ploy.) Willow swoons over the passion the two possess, missing that too in love feeling that a new relationship can provide. Then, as the scene reacts to the conversation happening behind her, she clenches a fist over her heart, intimately understanding both sides of Adelaide and Zander’s dilemma. (She wishes she didn’t.) Her own heart breaks seeing the queen's crushed expression, but she doesn’t hold judgment against the prince and can understand why he'd falter. Even if another part of her wants to shake him, knowing that he'll regret it if he never tries. (She wishes she didn't know that either.)

Her expression then turns to horror, then anger, when Adelaide’s wedding day is transformed into Juliet’s. (While she recalls the archer mentioning an arranged marriage and awful fiancé, she never thought it went on long enough for there to have been a wedding; for Juliet to become bound to a monster.) Her stomach churns watching the shadows, seeing the monstrous man lift a cage with a distinct fox shape inside. Lucky’s claws dig into Willow’s shoulder, their lips curled as they barely restrain themselves from attacking a memory. She reaches to stroke the dragon's face. 'I know, Lucky. I wanna mess him up too.'

When Juliet signals that it is time to go, she follows unhesitatingly; on some level, not wanting to witness anymore of this memory for fear of where it leads and also feeling a wash of guilt for even witnessing it at all. (In spite of that, the gears in her head start to turn as she reflects on how Zander’s memory had been playing when they arrived; it then shifted to a wedding scene after the mention of an engagement; then it reacted to Juliet, pulling out a similar memory from her past.) When the prince continues to needle Juliet, Willow watches her from her peripheries, trying to gauge her thoughts or feelings on the matter. If the crescents in her palms are any indication, the answer is not well. (Thus far, Juliet has not been all that forthcoming with information about herself and Willow reckons she can understand why now. It's not a pleasant story or, at least, there seem to be a lot of dark chapters.)

She startles when Zander mentions their thread, unused to others being able to see it. No one else has mentioned it thus far–– even though they used it to tangle the stone hydra and then Zander. (Milfred never even mentioned it and Willow would have assumed that with her gift of aura seeing, she might have been able to detect the thread as well. Yet it is Zander, of all people, who is the first to mention it. Someone neither of them are particularly close to. However, they did tangle him in the thread just before their arrival in the labyrinth so perhaps that has something to do with it? Or perhaps their thread functions differently in this nebulous realm?)

“No, we are not. We're still getting to know each other–– she hasn’t even asked me my favorite color.” Willow jokes, oddly avoidant of the archer’s gaze now that the thread is being talked about by a third party. The prince, happy to play along so long as he’s not being tormented by a memory, appears entirely scandalized as he looks between the two. (Lucky even gives an ‘I know, right?’ glance.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Zander of Okeanos. I’m Willow James of Elsewhere, a heroine of love.” She doesn’t really know how to elaborate any more than that and, quite frankly, she doesn’t really want to talk about their thread either. She’s still figuring out her own feelings behind it, but they oscillate between excitement and uncertainty. Still, with the spotlight shifted to herself, she takes advantage and continues. “Juliet is right, though. We really need to figure out this labyrinth. Can you tell us what you’ve experienced since getting trapped here?”

The prince shifts, staring off to the side with a languid shrug. He floats over one of the snapping diamond studded hands, unperturbed by them or the rising urgency of the whispers, either inured or apathetic. “How long have I been here?” he asks, rather than answer Willow's question.

“I’m not sure exactly. A few weeks at least? But, seriously, what’s been going on here? Any information can help us get out of here.”

“Hmm.” Zander takes his sweet time answering this question, tapping his chin as he looks up towards the milky clouds and the fog that encroaches from the side. Meanwhile, the whispers that beg them to run away become a cacophonous thunder. “That long? It has only felt like a handful of days.” The prince waves this off, again not disturbed by his predicament. Unhelpfully he supplies, “I have been up to a little of this and little of that.”

Willow could wring his neck.

“It’s not that I want to be trapped here,” he clarifies, noting the sorceress’s annoyance with his own mild amusement. “I have tried many times to escape, but ‘round each bend is a reminder of my misery. It becomes rather harrowing to be confronted by your painful past time and again. I oft wonder if maybe I should simply enjoy the playbacks of when Adelaide and I were fools in love. We were so happy, after all.” He sighs dreamily and swats away a reaching hand. He also makes no effort to speak above the whispers and Willow has to concentrate to listen, almost getting caught by hands a few times as a result. (Thankfully, Lucky is paying attention for her and burns the ones that get too close.) “But with you both here, it seems I do not have to be the only one whose past is on display. It’s quite refreshing.”

“Prince Zander, you can’t use us to get out of this.” Willow is firm in this. If her inclinations about the Lightless are correct–– that the transformation is a punishment–– then this labyrinth must have a purpose and, perhaps, that purpose is what can naturally cure the sickness as opposed to Juliet’s arrows. (If all the other labyrinths she saw are for other Lightless and if they can travel between them while in this nebulous space, perhaps they could save on time and maximize efficiency. They could clear Juliet’s name… But if the cost of clearing her name is…) “Labyrinths typically only have one direction,” though she does recall seeing dead ends in this one. “They’re supposed to be reflective… transformative…”

These connections she's starting to make provide the nerd with a whole host of ideas regarding the mechanics of the labyrinth, the purpose of the Lightless form, as well as the correlation with the heart glows at the center of this entire fiasco. She’s even bouncing more than she is hopping over the reaching hands. (Nothing like a brainteaser to take her mind off of the imminent horror of being lost forever.)

As she becomes more energetic, the tone changes around them. The whispers that were roaring turn to fits of giggles. The hands reaching for them shrink and twist into weeds pushing through cracks in concrete. Large drops then come down from above and spread across the labyrinth like ink in water. A skatepark materializes before them and the sound of rubber wheels over concrete, laughter, and crashes echo in the background. Willow and Ryan, a girl with hazel eyes and boyish blonde hair, sit at the lip of the bowl with their boards behind them; though it’s doubtful they’ve skated much since Willow’s eyes are red and swollen from earlier tears.

Ryan wraps an arm around a younger Willow’s shoulder, encouraging her to rest her head on her. “Run away with me.” The young sorceress snorts in response to that. “No, I’m serious, dude. Screw Elsewhere. Screw Sabrina. You’re gonna be so much bigger than this place someday. You, like, have actual dreams. Might as well get a headstart now, ‘cause you’re already too fucking good for this place. You’re gonna discover Anywhere, probably.”

The present Willow rolls her eyes while the Willow of the past looks at Ryan with shining green eyes that beg to be taken seriously. Even so, her past self pushes back. “We haven’t even finished high school. We can’t even drive.”

“High school is fake,” both Willows appear scandalized by this, “and you have a dragon. We can take Mer, too. We should take her.”

“Yeah, she’d kill you and scold me for ditching her.” She chuckles, burying her face into Ryan’s shoulder. While there is a smile on her face, the air around her is still gloomy. “But running away… I couldn’t do that. I have my family.” Ryan nods and Willow sits up, putting some distance between herself and the skater girl. “Besides, Sabrina… It’s not all bad. She can be really sweet and she loves me.”

“Willow. She’s certified trash.”

Even back then Willow knew that Ryan (and Meredith and Leif and Crimson and Clover and her grandmas) was right, but she had been unwilling to confront that fact because she had been willing to accept anything back then.

A sleek black sports car then pulls up to the skatepark, the tires shrieking to a halt, and the young Willow turns and rises suddenly from the lip of the bowl. The rest of the conversation is left to interpretation, but ends with Ryan giving Willow an ‘Are you serious?’ look and Willow shooting her an apology with her eyes before collecting her board and running towards the vehicle, slipping into the passenger’s seat. The car and past Willow speed off and the rest of the skatepark pauses, marking the end of what Willow remembers.

Willow, Zander, and Juliet are left at the skatepark among all of these frozen figures. Zander’s eyes are wide, his mouth open, as he stare at the spot where Sabrina’s car had been. “You–– what–– never have I seen a mechanical rodent of such unusual size.”

“Stay focused, Z.” Willow ignores the implied question about cars and looks around the frozen memory instead, keeping track of the fog that acts as a border. They really should get out of here. “These memories are reacting to each of us. If we figure out what their purpose is, we can help you get back to your heart glow.” While heart glows haven’t been observed in centuries in Evermore, she has read a bit on them and understands them as the essence of one’s desire. Or something to that effect.

“Purpose? You think there is a purpose to reliving my greatest torments?” The scenery responds to Zander’s upset, whirling around them like a tornado and dropping them in one of the prince’s adolescent memories. A child version of Zander speeds through the palace halls, his pounding heart echoing off the walls. From afar, a young Cedrick’s voice booms through the memory, “Where is he!? We are not finished playing slay the serpent.”

“You are telling me this has a purpose?” The present Zander asks, glowering as the figure of his older brother rounds the corner and dashes towards his past self, tackling him to the ground. It looks like roughhousing, Willow admits, but upon closer inspection it is clear that Cedrick is taking it too far, wrapping his arm around Zander’s throat despite the younger boy’s protests that he’s done playing the serpent. “All I have witnessed here are regrets and constant reminders that Cedrick gets his way. Always.”

At that, the memory attempts to shift, showing the briefest flicker of a poolside scene where Willow sits beside a strawberry blonde. As the prince continues on his diatribe, however, it fizzles back to the palace before her memory can take. (Willow visibly breathes a sigh of relief, not wanting to experience that moment all over again.) “Time and again I am reminded that I will always be the second. The spare to the heir. It does not matter that I have better battle prowess.” The memory flips through supercuts of past Zanders slaying the actual hydra, decorated in tournament wreaths, and hauling large game for evening banquets. However each of these successes is met with shocked applause while Cedrick’s meager wins are what earn gilded celebration, somehow leaving Zander in a shadow. “My unlucky birth order means I shall never have what I deserve.”

Oh, please.

“Maybe your attitude is the problem.” Willow suggests this without filter, likely too exhausted with this royal melodrama to continue. Like, she is actually trying to solve this puzzle and this man keeps whining instead of being helpful. It's like he doesn't care if he dies. “Adelaide literally gave you an out.” The scene flickers back to the moment Adelaide knew Zander had given up on their love story, paused on her broken expression. The present Zander scowls at Willow for bringing this up, but the sorceress presses on. “You say this is all regret and reminders? Well, maybe you ought to confront that instead of running and sulking about. No offense, but maybe you should look this Adelaide in the eye and acknowledge you are the one who broke both your hearts. I dunno,” she shrugs, “call me crazy, but maybe trying something different is what you need to do.”

As she points this out, the outline of a door draws itself right in front of Zander and magics into existence. The phrase If One Thing Had Been Different is painted on the door in gold lettering. As if that weren't baffling enough, someone knocks from the other side of the door.

 

[ellarose]

“It must be a trap.” Juliet regards the door with her assessment before the prince can do anything impulsive, holding an arm out in front of him to halt his approach. His gut smacks into her hand and he breathes out a little ‘oof’. She isn’t particularly sorry for this, united with Willow in tiring of his self-pitying soliloquy. Presumably he has been submerged in these memories for weeks, thus it is understandable that he’s relieved to have found respite and distraction. But now they are offering him a way out of his suffering. Just as Adelaide had once before… and he is once more proving himself too cowardly to take their hands. (Juliet knows she’d have done anything for— no. No.) Gently, she smooths her thumbs over the stinging gashes in her palms. Stirring up their memories to distract him from his own will serve no one. With all of their minds and hearts combined, it may well deepen and complicate the labyrinth to the extent that they’ll never find their way out. While the archer has never experienced a labyrinth before, it does rather remind her of the haunting, soul-destroying magic that emanates from Wraith’s Valley. They must keep themselves present so the past doesn’t drown them.

What she has less experience with, though, are Willow James’s suggestions. Understanding the purposes of the memories, the act of telling oneself what they should have done. It seems sound, of course, but what if that only makes it worse? The past is the past and it will remain unchanged.

“‘If one thing had been different?’ It sounds like a prompt for overthinking to me.” Juliet’s own mind lunges over traps and craters to escape memories of him, choosing to instead linger along the clean-cut slopes and edges of what she presumes was the other side. The wheeled planks, the unfamiliar figure… the mechanical monster with horrible, shrieking wheel-feet. She reaches for her knife to make sure it’s still there. A monster that Willow James herself approached without any trace of fear. A monster she simply stepped inside of. What was that? She doesn't like it. Featureless, shiny and hard. A surface that arrows must bounce off of, a surface that a dagger may only scratch. She doesn't like it at all.

High school, running away, family, ‘Sabrina’. Pieces of the conversation float around among everything else, but Juliet does not try to piece them all together. Partially out of respect to her companion’s privacy (for Willow has thus far shown respect for her own) and partially because curiosity will lead her down a path where she gets burned. The better she knows her, the worse all of this will hurt later.

“It is a door, Juliet. A way out! The first I’ve seen since I arrived in this dastardly place.” Prince Zander stares at it with wide-eyed wonder. The edges begin to glow a tempting, heavenly gold that perhaps only he can see. “That is precisely what doors are for. I think we should open it.”

“A door, yes, and an easy way out. If you’re to reflect on your past actions as Willow suggests, we should continue through the labyrinth as if we never saw it.” Juliet attempts to massage the headache from her temples. Of course she understands what doors are for! Who is to say it isn’t a trap that will plunge them even deeper into the labyrinth? The very premise of this door screams that it will invite a fantasy designed to keep him content and trapped forever. He won’t have to lift a finger beyond turning the knob. It’s easy. Too easy. “Entertaining distractions such as these will—“

The knocking on the other side of the door becomes so loud and persistent that Juliet stops to glare at it. Behind her raised arm, the prince fidgets like a child who can barely contain themselves from touching something they’ve been told not to touch.

“Uncle Zander? I have a question.” Another memory takes shape nearby. A young Elise sits in a cloud of pink skirts on a tuffet next to a sky-blue pool. One of her rosy cheeks is pressed to her arms, which are folded over the ledge and her eyes are misty with dreams. Zander relaxes inside the pool with a champagne flute in his hand. He takes a long, languid sip of his drink. “What is it like to be in love?”

Prince Zander spits out his drink, pounding a fist to his chest as some of the liquid likely gets caught in his windpipe.

“Ah. Shouldn’t you discuss this sort of thing with… ah, your mother?” Zander attempts to recover once he regains his breath. Elise scrunches her nose up, wordlessly expressing her thoughts on the concept, and then Zander mirrors that very same expression as he gives it more thought. Vivian is the last person anyone would go to for love advice and they both know it well. “I am a lone wolf, Elise. What would I know about love that your other uncles and aunties do not?”

“I don’t know. You have the eyes of someone who has been in love. Trust me. I have a sense for these things, uncle Zander.” Elise’s own eyes are wide as she leans towards him. They appear to see right through him, piercing down to the depths of his soul. Then she dramatically drapes herself over the pool ledge again, bringing a hand over her heart. “It must have been tragic. Forbidden, perchance?”

“Elise.” Zander sighs laboriously, and shaking his head. “You’ve always been an odd one.” Elise unwraps herself of her theatric pose, clutching her tiny hands in her lap and lowering her gaze. Her cheeks flame an even brighter pink. (Juliet’s heart aches with something like sympathy. Elise is comfortable with herself now. Before, though…) Sensing his niece’s discomfort, he softens and offers her an inviting smile. “Let me guess… you’ve fallen for a dashing prince?”

“Dashing princes are a myth.” Elise snorts. She surprisedly covers her mouth and nose with her hands, then, no doubt searching the area to ensure her mother is nowhere in sight. Zander’s eyes flicker with amusement. She lowers her hands and grins brightly, a touch conspiratorially. “My first love is much more romantic and thrilling than that, uncle.”

“Bold words for a girl of ten.” Zander laughs gently. “All right, then. Let’s hear it. Who is it that has won your heart?”

“It’s this girl I know.” Elise leans in enthusiastically, openly excited to have someone to share this secret with. “Oh, she is the most lovely person I have ever met. I look at her and I want to paint pictures of her. I want to learn to climb the tallest tree in the courtyard so I can join her on the highest branch. I want to hold her hand. I even—”

“Slow down, slow down.” Zander shifts, visibly uncomfortable. “Elise, darling…” He shakes his head and then uneasily gestures in the space between their chests, indicating a thread. “Are you connected to this girl?”

“Not yet.” Elise says, unbothered. She looks slightly more bothered, however, when she watches her uncle deflate with relief. “What is it?”

“You are the sole heiress of your kingdom, Elise. What you want is impossible… and I suggest you stop daydreaming before you get yourself hurt.” Zander stares into his champagne. "I know it may be hard to hear. But I am only saying this because I care about you."

“You sound just like mother.” Elise’s voice is tight, her childlike joy and wonder smothered.

“Your mother is right, Elise. It’s infuriating, indeed, but she always is.” Zander rolls his eyes, thinking of his sister. He flinches again, seeing Elise’s expression. “This path only leads to heartbreak, darling girl. You’re going to get hurt.”

“I’m not a baby, uncle Zander. I know that. But I think love is worth it.” Elise’s eyes shine with tears. “I simply… wanted to tell someone. To talk. I thought you might understand.”

“I do not. And I believe your father has filled your head with one too many stories.” Prince Zander sighs. (Ah. He spoke similar words to Adelaide, hadn't he? It seems he has a pattern of blaming the brave women in his life of being lost in fantasy.) The prince realizes his mistake a moment too late. (Elise’s father, the king, had only just…) Elise’s tears are falling in big drops now, her tiny shoulders shaking with inconsolable sobs.

“Father… father would have listened to me.” Elise’s voice shakes when she recovers it, small and broken but angry with grief. “My heart is already broken. The only person in this world who understands me is gone.”

Zander, unable to cope with the wound he just touched, simply disappears under the water with shame, freezing the image of Elise left behind with no one to comfort her, curled up in a tiny ball. Just like the image of Queen Adelaide, she remains there to taunt him. Once again taking the easy way out.

Juliet blinks hard. (She is not about to cry. The air here is dry and she’s accustoming herself to it after days submerged beneath the waves.) Another memory, one of her and Elise sitting side by side and hand in hand as children on one of Amoria’s numerous marble steps flickers to life before them.

“I think you’re the only one in this world who understands me, Juliet.” Elise confesses in a soft little whisper. “I want to understand you, too. Won’t you talk to me?”

Juliet wills it away, the memory softening at the edges before disappearing entirely. Focus. Now, what were they talking about before? “…There are three of us. I say we proceed. The prince would like to try the door.” The knocking grows even louder, but the archer pointedly ignores it to look at Willow. “What are your thoughts?”

 

[starboob]

‘Oh.’ Willow James takes a cautious step back from the door, but she is intrigued by its arrival especially since it seems prompted by her words; her suggestion that the prince should try something other than running. Then Juliet, ever cautious, ever thoughtful, points out that this could very well be a trap. She has to admit, she does see the archer’s logic. The prompt on the door is vague and could mean a number of different things, both positive and negative. The trusting part of Willow wants to assume that whatever magic holds this realm together is benevolent, but it is possible that this labyrinth wants to entrap its occupant and might use any means to prevent them from reaching their heart glow before the fog shrouds everything. (The fog has an unnerving similarity to the mist and, because of that, Willow has been hesitant to get close to the borders.) Labyrinths in Evermore might be used for the purpose of meditation, reflection, and transformation, but who is to say they have that same purpose here? In storybooks, she has read about labyrinths that were made to trap monsters or were prisons for shame. Even if there are exits via shining heart glows at the centers, that does not mean the labyrinth wants its occupants to succeed. 'Stay sharp, WJ.'

She takes another step back from the door just as the memory begins to play. Though not particularly curious about the prince’s life, when she hears the familiar cadence of princess Elise’s voice (albeit more youthful), she turns. Her eyes crinkle with her slight smile, then all of that turns to a frown at Zander’s cagey responses. Brave as he might be when it comes to monsters and game, he is a coward with his heart. (She finds herself grateful that for all the ways she is a coward, she has never been one with her heart. Her grandmas taught her better.) She pities him for being the warden of his own prison.

Curiously, another part of her eyes Juliet when the young princess begins describing the girl she has fallen for, wondering if she had caught the princess’s eye once. Not that other ladies of the court wouldn’t have been capable of climbing trees, but she can hardly imagine Lavinia Laurence and her squad partaking in such an activity. Still, it’s a hasty conclusion for her to jump to. (She mentally jots it down as a possibility anyway. It wouldn't be shocking if Juliet August were able to get the attention of a princess and part of her is jealous, if only because of the connection she has drawn between Elise and Dorothea. She wishes she had been able to capture the song bird’s attention like that–– enough that she would have wanted to gush with a confidant, but no one ever knew of their summer tryst. Well, except for Meredith but that's a given.)

It’s a sweet memory, even if Zander’s exit gives it a sour edge. It seems to have moved Juliet, too, but Willow doesn’t comment on this. She doesn’t comment on the almost flashback, either; even if it makes her wonder about the archer’s youth and especially about her friendship with Elise. (It had been hard to gauge at the banquet and following morning, because their time together had been so short, but she has a sense that Elise might be one of Juliet’s closer relationships in Amoria.)

As the persistent knocking draws them back to the present dilemma, Willow returns her attention to the tempting door, considering everything Juliet has brought up as well as the prince’s desires. “Well, I don’t think this is an exit.” She says this specifically to Zander who had been most excited by the possibility. “I find it hard to believe that the labyrinth would reward your avoidant behavior with an exit. So, if we take this door–– if you take this door–– are you prepared to engage with the labyrinth in earnest or will you continue to be a walnut about this?”

“A walnut. A walnut–– is this really what you think of me, Willow James?”

“You are most definitely a walnut, Z.” Lucky even nods in agreement from their perch on Willow’s shoulder. “You have been trapped here for weeks, presumably going over the events of your life where you wish things had been different, and you have done nothing to try and understand what is happening to you. That is walnut behavior. Hardheaded and hollow when you knock.”

Zander looks appropriately offended, but the knocking on the door has elevated to pounding and grabs his attention before he can verbally parry Willow’s assessment. He scowls at the sorceress and reaches for the knob, but before he can turn it, Willow places her hand over his and gives him a stern look. “Prove to me you’re not a walnut.”

The prince rolls his eyes, sweeps his fingers through his hair (for good luck, Willow presumes), and throws the door open. A gust of ice wind bursts forward and slaps the trio across their faces. It wraps around them and pulls them forward past the barrier and on the other side of the door is a bedroom within the undersea palace. Like with everything else so far, they still remain above water but the sheets on the bed and the canopy move as though they are being disturbed by water. It’s not a particularly large room, Willow notes, and she cannot even imagine that it is a guest’s or servant’s bedroom, because it’s both not lavish and too lavish all at once. (The bedspread, the clothes hanging in the wardrobe, for example, are much too expensive for a servant, but the room would be an embarrassment to offer a guest. Unless that guest were particularly despised, she supposes.)

Prince Zander recognizes this room immediately and starts to back away towards the door that has since disappeared. When he makes this discovery, he purses his lips together and barely contains his anguish. “I believe I have made an error. I would like to go back to the other memories, please. How might I summon the door, Willow James?”

Unfortunately, it’s already much too late to turn back.

A woman–– Queen Adelaide–– enters the small bedroom and, oddly enough, she does so by phasing through a stone wall. She does not acknowledge Juliet or Willow upon entry. It’s like they are not even there, but she does acknowledge prince Zander who looks increasingly distressed by this particular set-up.

“Zander." She pauses, holding the tension in the air with her breath. Her eyes avoid his and she keeps them on the corners of the room. "Be quick.”

The prince’s mouth opens and closes, then automatically supplies him with a script. “I know I am never to see you again and I thought this might be easier with our thread severed, but I…”

“No.” Adelaide interrupts, waving her hands in front of her while she backs away from Zander, almost like she’s afraid. Though Willow doesn’t think it is Zander who she is afraid of— it’s more like she’s scared of what she’ll do if she hears any more. “No, no, no–– you are not going to confess to me, Zander. Not now. Not after everything.”

Zander deflates, dropping his shoulders though he seems to understand just the same. The fight that had been a flicker in his eyes when he started talking dies almost immediately after Adelaide pushes him away. He clenches his jaw and then produces a pearl necklace seemingly out of thin air, but Willow imagines he had it on him whenever and wherever this event actually took place. The pearls glow like silvery moonlight and, faintly, laughter can be heard from the pearls like memories are embedded in each gem. Before he can even offer it to his brother’s wife, however, she is turning away. “Take it back. I don’t want it,” she urges. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“I understand. This will be the last time. I promise.” The memory pauses and Zander is able to stumble backwards out of his past. He rubs his head in frustration. Tears are forming at his eyes but he blinks them away harshly, then jams his fists against them to prevent the flow. He doesn’t shake or tremble like Willow would if she were on the brink of tears, but it does take him several moments of concentration before he looks at the sorceress in accusation.

“I thought this was supposed to help–– just admit you enjoy my misery. Why, I bet you both are just figments of my thinning sanity!” He begins to search himself for a weapon and though he doesn’t have one, Lucky hisses at him in warning. He backs away from the dragon (and the duo by default), but does not drop his frustration. “Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? There is no point to any of this. I tried. She did not want me then, she doesn't want me now. Should I ever escape this ode to despair, that will not change. So why bother?”

The heroine of love considers this, considers how this door did not necessarily lead them to a If One Thing Had Been Different scenario, and considers the prince’s continued resistance. She does not immediately respond and lets an uncomfortable silence pass between the group while she thinks. “You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past,” Willow offers. “Maybe the one thing different isn’t a reference to the past, but to the future? Reflecting on the past is a good way to know how you might want to be different going forward.”

“Pah, you’re just another girl whose head is full of stories.”

Another wind chill sweeps through the room before Willow can defend herself. It erases the scene and leaves them in a dark void. Dull footsteps echo from the top of stone steps and a rectangular beam of light shines for a second before the click of a door puts it out. The footsteps stomp down a staircase, then march across a dirt covered floor and turn to a stop. A second unseen figure can be heard shifting not too far away from where the first figure stopped. A heavy coat hits the floor, filling the silence and the second figure can be heard shuffling around to reach for it. Then, suddenly, a small flame ignites between these two figures, just barely offering a glimpse of where they’re at. Soon the flame spreads across a wire–– no, a thread–– and brightens the entire room for just a second, revealing a grimey dungeon. In this split second, the thread hangs openly, tauntingly between two women, prisoner and captor, before the flame goes out. “Sooo… Does this mean you’ll release me?”

The quip is met with feet stomping up the stairs and the door slamming furiously shut. The prisoner sighs, “Guess not.”

The lights flash on all at once and reveal an empty classroom rather than a dungeon. Willow is too shocked to process anything just yet, having just placed both of those women in her mind and coming to the realization that the labyrinth responded to one of grandma Elva’s memories. (Though they were significantly younger then, she’d not only recognize Elva’s green eyes and Juniper’s freckles and a smile anywhere, but she’s reflected on that memory before. Many times before, admittedly.) She shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. The memory reminds her why being full of hope (or stories) is not such a bad thing like Zander makes it out to be.

She sticks her chin out. “Yeah, I am full of stories. Why is that such a bad thing? At least I have hope. At least I am willing to try.” The poolside memory starts to take form via the overhead projector and, once again, Willow chases it away with a quick glare. No time for distractions. “Sometimes, Z, you have to fight for her and that’s not such a bad thing even if you don’t get what you want in the end. It sucks, but that just means you’ll be free.” Eventually, at least.

“Aaaand, you honestly probably did mess up with Adelaide.” The projector flips through a slidedeck of photographs that shows Zander’s sordid life following the wedding. (Willow doesn't necessarily judge him for this. She does, however, judge him for trying to pretend he never cared and burying himself in distractions. She judges him for giving up.) One of these images shows the prince dousing himself in champagne after Victory No. 300. The slidedeck stops here and the champagne in the image begins to animate. It pours in an endless flow down his chest, over his tail, and gathers at the bottom of picture until it spills over into the classroom. Willow looks down at alcohol spilling over her feet, filling up the classroom, and, alarming as this is, it also proves the urgency of their situation. “I can’t promise she’ll want anything romantic with you, but I think if you start with an apology, when she’s ready for it, she might appreciate that.” She decides against informing him that the queen still cares for him, believing he should make this choice without that influence. This really should be his choice and she hopes he considers other factors like princess Elise, who might need him now more than ever based on everything she’s inferred about Queen Vivian. ‘Don’t be a walnut, Z.’

 

[ellarose]

A walnut. Willow James truly is quite funny. Without her permission, Juliet's lips quirk into the faintest little smile when she watches the woman from the other side get a prince who had once felled many ferocious beasts to pout like a tot. (If she intends to one day trade stern words with Queen Vivian Cendrillon, then it is for the best that she practices confronting the royals. There are many who will not be as forgiving as the likes of Dylan and Zander... and Juliet will step or swim in wherever necessary. Willow has shown that her instincts are sharp, though. All the more reason to tread carefully. In this moment the other sider does not stumble over her words and conducts herself with a rather admirable sense of ease.) A pinprick of warmth settles over her heart, the thread between them shivers enough to touch a nerve, and Juliet defensively turns her attention away from the two and towards the door standing in front of them. Blasted door. It glows gilded gold, like a promise, and it's for that exact reason she doesn't trust it. In her experience, promises are never kept. They're always broken.

The words upon it sing a sweet siren's song, building the prince's expectations higher and higher, and Juliet senses the rot hiding at the melody's core. It's an ache that crawls all over her bones, a stinging in her teeth. (She wouldn't be surprised if they opened the door only to fall into the abyss of his escapist fantasies forever, never to be seen again.) Even so, she doesn't stop them when the prince reaches for the knob. Willow reminds him to be careful, yes, but appears curious in seeing what lays beyond it as well. Ah, well. If this is a damning trap, the way she suspects... then perhaps it's a morbid curiosity that persuades Juliet to let it happen. She doesn't move a muscle. She simply settles her hand over her dagger and watches with an unflinching gaze. Her heart doesn't pound with anticipation. It's numb. Isn't that all you ever wanted once? To disappear without a trace?

Juliet shivers and tells herself it's because of the cold air breathing towards them. Grace rubs up against her calves again, looking up at her with big, concerned eyes. She trained the visible cues of her discomfort out of herself long ago... but her companion can always tell when something is amiss. The archer takes her into her arms. I'm sorry, Gracie. She brushes the pad of her thumb gently over the scar on the fox's neck. (She hates him, she hates him, she hates--) Guilt takes the place of numbness as the warmth of Grace's body smoothes over the chill in her. She holds her closer, breathing in her familiar autumn scent. I'm sorry you're stuck with me.

The unravelling memory strikes Juliet as familiar... and eventually she realizes that this is the memory she had seen before the hydra attacked. The entrance through the wall, the words they speak, the pearls. Only this time there are figures present instead of phantoms and echoes.

What does this mean? Why did she see it at all?

Although Juliet briefly loses herself in a reverie of wondering and the prince's accusations blur, she is quick. The second she notices the prince reaching around himself for a weapon, she allows Grace to jump from her arms and holds her dagger ready at the very same time instant that Lucky hisses. Rather than engaging in any talk (she is in no state to solve the prince's problems for him) she focuses on the comforting sensation of the hilt of her dagger clasped in her hand. While he backs away, she doesn't budge. She trust his anger and will not let her guard down. He has no weapon but that does not change the fact that he reached for one. His current state is unpredictable and should he judge them foes instead of allies, there's no telling what he might try to do.

The scene inexplicably changes to yet another location Juliet does not recognize, an ominous setting with a burning thread and two unfamiliar figures. Through it all, she doesn't allow herself to become distracted from what's real, keeping her gaze trained on Zander to ensure that he does not make any sudden moves towards herself or Willow. There is a period of silence, a flicker of the sorceress's widening green eyes (is this familiar to her somehow?) and then her companion covers the speaking. Once more, Juliet stays mostly silent... perhaps in part out of curiosity, to see the way that her ideology responds to this place of infinite changes and magic.

"...Free? That'd certainly be nice." Zander says quietly, as if he thinks it nothing more than a nice thought while he stares at his own champagne-covered reflection on the illuminated screen. Then he closes his eyes. A few small, contained memories in the forms of various figures appear in flickers and flashes around them. “How do you know so much about this?” A younger Adelaide giggles as a younger Zander helps her retie her overcomplicated dress in the back. “I often help my sister, Cleo. She insists the maids don't do it the same as I do and demands for my presence.” His cheeks turn pink with this admission, as if he regrets disclosing it. "My brother heckles me for it endlessly." Adelaide simply shakes her head, her smile reaching her eyes. “...Well, I think it’s sweet. Thank you.”

"Zander, Zander!" A little Cleodora from another memory swims through like a little lightning bolt, tackling her brother from behind. She squishes her cheek against his back affectionately, nuzzling in. "Won't you play with me? Pretty please!? No one else has time for me anymore." Zander turns slowly, makes a great show of putting on a serious expression as if he's about to scold, and then bops his little sister gently on the nose with a grin. "Well. That won't do, will it? Of course I will make time for you."

"Vivi... what happened to your arm?" A concerned, somewhat older Zander stops a teenaged version of the queen of Amoria herself. Though Viviane's arm is bleeding in rose-red clouds, her ice-blue eyes are sharp and unflinching. "I am fine. I sparred with Cedrick." Zander pauses awkwardly. "...And he bested you? He should not have been so rough--" Viviane snorts in a way that Juliet could not imagine the queen of Amoria ever snorting-- much like Elise did while she was speaking with him by the pool. "No, you nincompoop. I bested him and he threw a tantrum." It's in this moment that her guard falls, just a little, revealing the heart that lies beneath as she lowers her gaze. "He was out of line, struck me when the match was finished. I wasn't looking. I didn't think to look. But it was a lesson I needed to learn, Zander. If I am to be queen of my own kingdom someday, I must be prepared for anything." Zander shakes his head angrily. "Cedrick should have accepted his loss like a man. You should be able to trust your brothers to take care of you, not... Viviane, let me patch you up." Their images fade, but their back and forth continues for a while longer. "It's just a scratch." "It's more than just a scratch. Come here." "Zander... for what it's worth, I do trust you. This way of life may harden us, but you've always been kind."

Memories of Zander playing games with his sisters at different stages of their childhoods bloom around them like flowers... then there are memories of his sisters handing him his baby nieces and nephews to hold for the first time. (He seems very much the sort who would cry at such events if he hadn't lived his entire life underwater.) The same memories from before morph-- Zander is older, helping Elise tie her dresses in the back and playing with her very much the same way.

"...You should ask him to play. I think it would do the both of you some good." Cleodora nudges Zander, nodding encouragingly towards a four-year-old Dylan. He's completely dejected by the castle gate, having just been ignored by his uncle Cedrick before a hunt. "He doesn't want to play with me. He idolizes Cedrick." Zander stares tiredly at the reflection in his champagne glass. (The level of the liquid rises a touch more rapidly.) "He is a child, Zander. His mind can be easily changed. His father is too busy for him, Cedrick is too busy for him..." Cleodora takes the champagne glass from him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "You always used to make time for me."

"Yes, because I have nothing better to do than play silly games. The boy will eventually grow up and deem me the family disappointment, just as everyone else has." Zander lashes out, attempting to wrestle the champagne glass back. Cleodora doesn't let up, but there's something in her gaze that flinches. "That is... Zander, that is not what I meant. You have never been a disappointment. I just wish my son could experience your kindness as I once did. So he could love you as I do." The champagne falls from between them, shattering to the ground. Zander turns and storms off, leaving Cleodora behind to watch with sad eyes.

The next memory is faded, going in and out of focus at random intervals. Zander is in bed, writhing and feverish as his tail grows luminous yellow spots. Cleodora is at his bedside, holding his hand as Viviane paces restlessly towards the back. "Zander, please. Stay with us." His youngest sister pleads. Viviane settles a hand down on her shoulder. "There is nothing we can do but wait. I've sent for Juliet August. She will know what to do." She sighs, rubbing her fingers over the scar on her arm. "Selfishly, I asked her to prioritize this case above all others. I cannot fathom why it has affected Zander of all people. He has a good heart. If it'd have been any of us, I would have thought..." Cleodora nods silently, knowing they don't have to say what they're thinking aloud. Cedrick. (Which indeed fits the pattern, as he is the very brother that Juliet chose to curse.) "His heart glow must be fading for a reason. I should have noticed sooner. Now we're about to lose him and I feel responsible. He was always taking care of us, and now..." Viviane shakes her head sternly. "No. We're not going to lose him, Cleo. What Zander needs right now is for us to trust in him. He will find his way back to us because he loves us." Cleodora looks up at her older sister, wide-eyed with shock. To Juliet's own surprise, Queen Viviane blushes in response. "...Be quiet." Cleodora manages a small, tired smile in spite of everything. "I didn't say anything, Vivi."

"I... truly have been a walnut." Around them, the champagne sea begins to glow a comforting storge-yellow. (Without words, without explanation, it is the magical manifestation of one's familial love.) It begins to lift up from the ground in shining droplets like gemstones, each of them reflecting memories they just saw. They swirl around and then absorb themselves into Zander's chest. And then? And then Zander simply disappears. There's no flash, no warning sign. He's simply gone. The memories disappear one by one, as does the screen and classroom. Willow and Juliet are left in the dark, standing on a tiled floor with a few scattered champagne puddles remaining.

"Psst!" One of the puddles calls for them. (One of the... puddles?) Grace walks over to it curiously, peering inside, and then stumbles back with shock. Juliet holds her knife ready before approaching it as well. (Although she does have a creeping suspicion she knows who is calling out to them.) In the reflection, she sees none other than Millicent smiling back at her. "Howdy-doo! You don't have much time, so listen to what I have to say. The realm you're currently in is about to collapse." When the witch says this, the ground shakes and the puddle containing her reflection begins to stir with ripples. The walls and ceiling of the room they're in begin to shake, crack, and crumble. She continues to smile brightly at them in spite of this. "Now, I simply must know. How is Lucifer doing? Oh-- and Jeffery Von Willigans would like to say hello, too." She disappears from frame for a moment. ("Jeffery, we talked about this--") There's a hiss, a crash, and then Millicent reappears. She boasts a new scratch on her cheek but she proudly holds up the possum, who hisses once more with annoyance. They're wearing a pretentious white powdered wig and a waistcoat today. "Ta-da!"

"Millie, did you use the last..."

"The last of my murmuring mums? Indeed. This is a reminder, too, that I need you to fetch me more murmuring mums on your journey back. Don't let her forget, Willow James!" Millicent nods distractedly, setting the possum down to examine what looks like a jar of fly wings. "Of course, you need to make it out of there alive first. If not, you will be absorbed into the prince's subconscious forever." She waves her hand dismissively as if this is not a huge concern. "I trust you'll figure it out! You're in a space that responds to your emotions and memories. So long as you possess the desire to make it back you will." Millicent looks meaningfully at Juliet and the archer feels a pang in her side, remembering her morbid curiosity, the desire to vanish without a trace. "Break a leg! I read that one in a book, too. Is that another phrase you other-siders use?" A boulder-sized portion of the ceiling smashes through Millicent's reflection, once more leaving them alone in the crumbling labyrinth.

The desire to go home. The desire to go home. Does she possess any such desire? Juliet pushes Willow James out of the way of another piece of rubble, landing in a heap on top of her. Breathing in enough dust that she coughs, she presses her eyes shut tight and tries to focus on something that she can hold onto, an anchor of sorts... but she finds nothing to pull her back. Nothing she'll reach fast enough to save them. Damn. Damn it. Is this really how she's going to...? Lost in a man's mind forever? What a nightmarish fate.

 

[starboob]

Willow James melts as she relishes in Zander’s kindness, his love. That is the core of who he is–– not the man who gave over to drinks and shallow lovers–– and she is excited for the reprisal of his sweet center. (She also finds herself curious over the glimpses of Queen Viviane. At first she stills upon seeing her, that ice gaze enough to freeze even through a memory of her as a teenager, but then she fills with something closer to shock. Maybe hope, too. The Viviane of these memories seems softer than the one she has seen in pictures; the one she knows will threaten her daughter for wanting to marry for love over power. If she can reach this softer Viviane, however, perhaps there is hope?) As Zander admits to his walnut tendencies, the hero simply nods in acknowledgement and, if there were more time, she might have offered him verbal reassurance that it's okay to have walnut phases. His mere acknowledgement has Willow hopeful for his future. She sincerely believes that when he makes it back, he’s going to be different; he might stumble and fall, but she sees a man, now, who will at least try. For his family. (He has a good heart.)

When he leaves, she isn’t immediately disturbed that they have been left behind. She’s too preoccupied rubbing the mist away from her eyes, feeling a slight glow from having successfully gotten through to Zander, to be worrying over the impending doom. For a blissful second, she forgets that they’re in another realm. For a blissful second, she is caught up wondering if hero-work will always feel this satisfying. (She also wonders if they had met Trevor in this realm, would their departure with him have felt more satisfying? Is there hope for every Lightless? Or only some?) Then her sweet feelings are yanked back when she comes to and realizes they are alone in a dark tiled space with champagne puddles scattered over the ground. That, and this blank space is rumbling like an earthquake. She sticks her arms out for balance and Lucky flaps their wings as they both trace the crack splitting across the floor and ceiling, catching a glimpse of Milfred in a puddle.

… Wait.

Milfred in a puddle? Lo and behold when the sorceress joins her companion, she sees the other caster beaming back at them and offering her words of warning and wisdom. (Passively, she considers peering into the other puddles to see if Sawyer’s image might manifest itself in them. She recalls a few late evenings where the seer would try to explain the wonders of bubbles, because “They are peepholes into other realms, William.” At the time Willow had assumed she was messing with her, but now, given the evidence, she is not so sure.) Lucifer, meanwhile, trills happily at the reflection of their new friend–– though that soon turns to a hiss upon seeing the dastardly Jeffery Von Willigans.

Though the collapsing ceiling and floor and everything are alarming–– something Willow feared happening earlier, something they almost experienced in the hall of portraits–– the other caster’s advice is the only assurance she needs that they will make it out of here. She has absolutely zero–– zilch, nada–– desire to get trapped in the mind of a melodramatic royal and plenty desire to get back so she can eventually return to her family. Before she can confirm the expression or even say a goodbye, falling rubble crushes the connection and, a second later, she’s underneath Juliet August.

‘Gods. By the gods, please send help for a beautiful woman has fallen––’ A piece of ceiling falls dangerously close to them and pulls her out of her useless lesbian reverie, reminding her of what they learned only seconds ago. ‘This realm is collapsing, WJ. Stay focused.’ Lucky nudges Juliet with their nose, beckoning her to get off their companion while Willow tries to mentally scoop up the puddle she has become. Shakily, she eases up back to her feet and reassesses their collapsing surroundings. “Oh, dragon.” She chuckles nervously. “We’re in danger. Mhm.” In spite of this statement, she knows exactly how to anchor herself–– she was homesick just three hours after starting her big adventure, so this is going to be a cinch.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she grasps onto the first memories that remind her of why she perseveres and, having just flipped through Zander’s memories, she’s reminded first of Leif. His large muscular arms and double dimpled smile; his obnoxiously loud laugh; and all the times he’s been there for her. As she reflects on her brother, a storge-yellow step made of stone pops in front of her, but the girl from Evermore doesn’t realize this with her eyes still closed. She merely moves onto thinking of her grandmas, her many cousins, friends and other loved ones. As she wades through the memories of people who have pieces of her heart, who are safe spots for her to land, more stone steps pop, pop, pop in front of them, laying out a path that leads to a gilded veiled gateway.

Lucky nudges Willow’s shoulder, prompting her to open her eyes. She blinks. While the yellow road in front of them is promising, she also notes the piles of rubble now surrounding them. Large enough chunks of the ceiling are missing that the gaps reveal the starry-scape she observed earlier through Lucky’s eyes. The floor beneath them shutters. Quickly, Willow gestures for Juliet to get on the yellow pathway and then follows after her.

As they jump between the steps, a tunnel made of magic wisps encloses their path, protecting them from the crumbling labyrinth. More than that, memories from Willow’s life appear or echo along the magic-forged tunnel.

“Willow James!” A sweet voice full of summer fills the passageway, shouting over the sound of a bustling hallway. Metal lockers creak open and slam shut, boys yell to their pals, the girls laugh and whisper with their gals. The next time the voice speaks, she sounds closer. “How come I never see you at my after party? And is there anything I can do to persuade you to come this year?”

“I…” The shock in Willow’s young voice is evident and it’s easy to imagine her mouth opening and closing, but betraying her of words. “I didn’t know you wanted me there?”

“I invite you every year, Willow.” There’s a pause in the conversation, neither the summer voiced speaker or Willow say anything. (Willow remembers this had been because Dorothea appeared to realize what Willow had assumed.) “Okay, I do invite everyone, but…” She lowers her voice, a guilty or bashful grin evident in her words. “Just because I invite everyone doesn’t mean I look forward to everyone being there. I do look forward to the possibility of you being there. You were so much fun at Griffith’s welcome back party freshman year.”

The tunnel briefly blooms a pinkish hue as the soundbite dissolves. Then a pre-teen version of Willow and a teenage version of Leif stand and wait in line for a mall pretzel. Willow’s eyes appear red and puffy, though she’s also bouncing on the balls of her feet as they get closer to the register. “See, I told you pretzels fix everything. You don’t even have one in your hand and I bet you’ve already forgotten about those jerks at school. Ah, oops. Sorry.” Leif rubs the back of his neck as Willow’s big green eyes mist at the reminder of what happened at school that day. (Honestly, present Willow doesn’t even remember what she had been so upset over, but she does remember Leif trying everything to take her mind off of it.) He quickly pulls her into his side, wraps his arm around her neck, and rubs his knuckles against her head–– though it must not be that hard since Willow is giggling. “Ahhh, scrubbing your brain of that–– now you’re not allowed to think about it. It’s against the ruuules!”

“Screw the rules,” a teenage Meredith says as she opens up Willow’s bedroom window, sticking one leg out to make her exit. Based on Meredith’s buzzcut that fully reveals her three sets of silver horns (that match her heart-tipped silver tail), Willow guesses they are sixteen. “We’re going to the carnival–– I already checked in with Juni and Elfie and they’re cool with it. I just have to have you back by ten.” Willow shuffles uncomfortably, looking at her friend in her deep red eyes. “I know you’re lying, because you’re sneaking out the window and, like, I’m sure they would be fine with it… But it’s a school night! We have a test tomorrow.” “We have a quiz,” Meredith corrects. “And it’s only ten points and we both know you already studied for it, so c’mon. I’ll buy you a slushie.” Willow purses her lips together, but her resolve crumbles. “Make sure the red flavor is cherry this time. Strawberry is narsty.”

Reels of footage show the shenanigans they got into that night–– or, shenanigans that Meredith got into while Willow either stood watch or covered her eyes. (Like when she purposefully dropped her frozen yogurt onto Conrad’s head from the top of the ferris wheel.) When this night comes to an end, another clip opens up. Then another and another–– all showing the course of their friendship, from childhood to adulthood, its different stages, the highs and lows, and how fiercely these two regard each other especially after everything they have been through together. (Ah, she misses her!) Even though their memories together peter out in adulthood, the love is just the same, just as intense, just as safe.

“Don’t tell grandma Elfie,” Juniper whispers to a toddler version of Willow, gesturing with her eyes towards the woman who has her back turned, facing the sink. Then she slips her a piece of chocolate. “I know exactly what you are doing, Jun.” Willow’s green eyes widen, a shocked little gasp bursting from her lips as she looks between her two grandmas. The grandma at the sink points to her pointed ears. “I have already told you, learn sign language. Your chances of keeping secrets from me increases tenfold!”

“The mountain god! The mountain god!” A slightly older Willow begs, kicking her feet excitedly as she sits on grandma Elva’s lap. Elva chuckles, tilts her head, and scratches the top of it. “That one again, little one?” Willow nods her head rapidly, shining her lop-sided dimple smile at her grandma. “I really thought you would have taken to the story of the storm god, but, okay, how can I say no to a smile like that?” Willow settles into her grandma’s lap, closes her eyes, and mouths the words to her favorite legend. “The mountain god has a heart of stone…”

“Oh, gods–– finally. Your crush was so embarrassing.” Leif teases, kicking her shin from across the booth at Red’s Diner. She shoots him a half-hearted glare and kicks him back, causing him to chuckle. “Sooo, how’d she ask you out?” Her cheeks color to a deep shade of red, matching the pleather cushions of the 40’s themed restaurant, but her green eyes spark with excitement all the same. She laughs nervously and summons a half-folded cardboard poster from her bag. She opens it and lays it flat on the table so that Leif can see the proposal to go to homecoming, spelled out with the help of candy bars. “She waited outside of my homeroom. Leif, she doesn’t even go to my school.”

As the memories swim around them, dotting along the tunnel, and as the labyrinth collapses into oblivion, they’re eventually left walking on this floating yellow path, surrounded by stars and nebulae. From above, giant sets of eyes blink open and follow the sorceress and the archer. Willow doesn’t notice these immediately, too taken by this literal trip down memory lane, but when ethereal whispers speak over the memories, she takes notice.

“Does it make you jealous, brother, that she favors me?”

“Oh, shut up. She only likes you because of how pathetic you are.”

“How I bore of your squabbling. It’s not as though that even matters.” A third voice, deep and sultry, sighs. “Who even are these mortals? Are we not going to concern ourselves with this?”

“What is there to be concerned over, sister? They are mortals.”

“I was a mortal once, need I remind you? Unless we are taking applications for a new––”

“Idiots! Quiet yourselves. The mortals can hear us.”

“Wait–– are these the…?”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, then this ought to be interesting. Let’s play a game.” The voice chuckles, their laughter like distant thunder. Not a moment later a lightning bolt pierces through the veil and strikes the three steps directly ahead, leaving a wide gap to the next step. The snap of fingers then echoes around them and shortly thereafter, Lucky and Grace are sent into a state of deep drowsiness. “How badly do you wish to go home, lovelies?”

 

[ellarose]

They have to wish to go home? Do they intend for them to beg? Juliet aims a fierce glare skyward. (The mysterious voices are disembodied, but she immediately envisions them talking down on them based on their tones of superiority and the way they call them 'mortals'.) This is essentially the same advice that Millicent had given them earlier. Fine. It will be fine. She envisions Willow James will complete the staircase quite effortlessly, already having created so much of it. All she needs to do is use another memory with one of the many people she has been able to cry, smile, and laugh with over the course of her life. While there were some words and sights that she didn't fully understand (especially that glowing, wheel-shaped monster), the echoes and memories were as warm as a gentle embrace. Clearly she has support, she has love, and she can reach for it so easily that the archer can't help feeling a pinch of envy for it. Even so, she makes an effort not to dwell too much. Juliet just knows that in comparison... she will be of no help. At this moment, she cannot bring forth a single image in her mind to associate with 'home'. All she can think of is... oh, no. A memory surfaces. And it isn't one of Willow James's.

"It’s because I’m slowing you down, isn’t it? I’m not fast enough or strong enough. But I’ll train even harder. I promise." Juliet is ten years old and her voice is cracking with emotion. It’s untrained and messy, spilling her innermost thoughts and fears all over the cobblestones at their feet. She tries to keep up with a blonde woman in muddied boots and trousers, carrying a giant sword upon her back. (Anyone else might bend or break beneath the weight of such a weapon... but Lara always stood tall, only ever lowering herself when she wished to level with her.) They're walking (in Juliet's case, with a gait faster than a walk to keep up) along the riverside. "Please. Don’t leave me here."

"Shh, shh. Listen to me, Red." Lara hoists Juliet into her arms and settles them both down on a nearby bench. She bounces her on her knee a few times to get her in a comfortable position. She awkwardly tucks a loose strand of red hair back into her braid. Grace and a big grey wolf curl up together at their feet. "That's exactly the problem. I don't want you training any harder. The wood is no place for a child to grow up."

"Millie lives in the wood." Juliet bunches her lips to the side, her brown eyes squinting with triumph as she naively believes she delivered the argument to end all arguments with that point. She deflates when Lara shakes her head.

"Mm. And have you ever wondered what's going to happen to little miss witch if something happens to her mama? When that day comes, she'll be all alone out there." Lara gets that sad look in her eyes that Juliet remembered the day they left the Saffron's cottage. "Poor kid shouldn't be isolated like that... but it's not my place to tell 'em how to live their lives. My work's about to get a lot more dangerous." She nods at one of the black mourning flags flapping in the breeze. The king. "If something happens to me... what I'm trying to say is I don't want that for you. This is an opportunity. You could be a part of this family that wants you. You could be a kid for once in your damned life." ‘I thought you wanted me. I thought we were family.’ Juliet had wanted to argue, but the concept of verbalizing it felt like nails on her tongue, like it might break her in half. (It's silly. Childish. Impractical.) Besides, Lara could easily shatter those expectations she'd built up with a single word. She could claim that, no, she had never wanted her at all. It's all about what Lara wants. What the August family wants. But... 'I don’t want this. Don’t you care about what I want?' In Juliet's experience, the world has always been indifferent to her needs and wants. She has to fight for it, has to use the shadows to take and steal it if need be.

"The Augusts are a respectable family. Theo says they have a room set aside just for you. Think of it-- your own room with your own bed and everything. You can sleep snug and warm at night without the risk of something jumpin' out at you." Lara holds both of her arms and rubs them gently, warming places on her that had once been skeletal-thin. Her eyes look sad again. "You’ll never starve again. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?"

'No.' A stubborn part of Juliet thinks. She doesn't want to be left behind. (Lara's coming up with all of these 'reasons'... but isn't the real reason still because she's not fast or strong enough? If she were an asset, she'd keep her around.) "Yes." The little archer nods her head anyway because she’s a good, dutiful girl. Because she’s always wanted to be on Lara's level and make her proud. She doesn't want her to see her like a child anymore. She wants to be her equal.

"You're finally going to have a home. It might take a little while to adjust... but they've promised to love you like their own." Lara pulls her in closer and sets her chin down on Juliet's head, her gaze skyward. The sky is rosy as the sun sets, but a patter of raindrops has begun to fall from the sky, creating ripples all across the nearby river. "Juliet August. Name really suits you."

"Will you come back for me one day?"

"Juliet..."

In the present, there's a low rumble echoing from below. Juliet takes a breath when she realizes she's been holding it and looks over her shoulder to see the bottom of the staircase has crumbled away with that memory. Nothing has been restored at all. Instead, she's ruining it. While Willow James's thoughts summoned sunshine, Juliet August's bring forth a blaze of hellfire. The rest of the stars still support them... but she has a feeling that if the rest of their ground crumbles away, they'll fall down into the abyss waiting below. A rain of white flower petals begin to rain down all around them, accompanied by a song, so distantly sung that the words are impossible to make out. When the petals touch down on the stairs, however, they flicker into bloodstains and are accompanied by muffled screams. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

"Juliet Brooks. The name truly suits her, does it not?" Unhelpfully, that pompous man's voice echoes from the darkness, shattering another portion of the staircase. At this rate... "Indeed."

"Your father and I want to see you with a husband who will take care of you for the rest of your days." Mother's voice continues tearing the staircase away step by step. Juliet's heart pounds fervently, but she can't stop them now that they've started. "You should consider yourself fortunate that a man such as Paris Brooks wishes for your hand in marriage. I thought we would never find you a respectable husband, after the... incident."

It's about the wishes of her parents, the wishes of Paris Brooks, and... boom! Now there are only three remaining steps. Only a little more of this and they'll be lost to the prince's mind forever. Juliet shudders. No. No, there must be something. Another memory peels its way out of the darkness. A tall figure with short, curly brown hair stands in the doorway of her bedroom with a tray of sweets in their hands. The cacophony of sound softens when they knock on the doorframe.

"La-- Juliet? I brought you some red velv-- uh. I mean, flaming red cakes? You didn't eat anything downstairs." The figure shakes their head and sighs audibly. They step inside the dim room and set the tray down on a side table. "...Forgive me for speaking out of line. But anyone with a working pair of eyes can see that Paris Brooks has been forcing you to starve yourself. I will not allow for it."

"...This-- this is precisely why I hate you. Pretending to care and drawing conclusions before you've spoken to me. If I wish to eat I will eat." Juliet lashes out, shivering. She doesn't turn around once, curled up on the floor by her open balcony door. A fresh layer of snow is piling on the ledge and cold air bursts in, fluttering the rosy curtains. "I've no appetite. Leave me alone."

"...Hm. Juliet August without an appetite? Hard to believe." The voice says, unfazed and apparently quite accustomed to dealing with a moody Juliet. "If you don't close that door, I will. Your parents will be cross if you freeze to death on my watch."

"I refuse to do anything Paris Brooks says. He tries... but he cannot control me." Juliet collects herself from the floor and complies, pressing the balcony door closed to shut out the frigid winter air. "He never will. Nor will you."

"I would never dream of trying to control you, my lady." The figure says warmly, taking a quilt from the foot of the bed before tossing it haphazardly over Juliet's head. It hits her with a loud 'whack' and she gasps out a strangled, almost kitten-like sound of surprise. "How long will it take before you realize that I am not your enemy?" Juliet shakes the blanket off her head so it settles around her shoulders instead, glaring brown-eyed daggers at them. They muffle a good-natured laugh behind their hand. (She thought it improper at the time, but that laugh...) "I am here to keep you safe."

'Let me out. I don't want to see any more of this.' With a flash, the gap in the staircase mends itself. They're not yellow, like the steps Willow James created. Instead they're a splotchy, splattered mess of blue and red.

"...Interesting. You mortals are so complicated." One of the voices titters, perhaps enjoying this too much. "So fascinating."

"Run along, then!" A burst of unmatchable force pushes Juliet, Willow and their companions up the stairs and out through the waiting doorway beyond the stairs. "We'll be watching you."

 

[starboob]

Willow’s green gaze is downcast by the time they’re sent forward through the gateway, not a moment of time given for her to squeak or gasp in surprise or even think much of the ominous warning and equally ominous voices. Her mind, instead, is running circles around what she just witnessed. Everything she wasn’t and shouldn’t’ve seen and, yet, driven by taboo-desires, she’s committed each detail of Juliet’s past to memory. ‘Juliet…’ She tumbles through the gateway and lands in a heap, scraping her chin against the soft earth, but she doesn’t motion to get up or make any sort of move. Again, she can’t stop thinking about everything. ‘Juliet.’

She isn’t sure what breaks her heart more–– seeing who Juliet used to be or realizing she’s never really had a home that fit her. (Like an almost right puzzle piece that a child forces into position despite ruining the image the puzzle is supposed to be creating. It seems as though Juliet is that almost-right puzzle piece with many people in her life. Maybe not with Milfred. Maybe not with Elise. And certainly not with that tall handsome figure with the curly mop of hair. But with others, like the Augusts… That Paris Brooks. She doesn’t want to think of it like this, but she also sees how Juliet, more than just being the almost-right puzzle piece, has been treated as a doll. Someone or something to dress up, make pretty, and tell stories about.) It seems the home she wanted for herself, with that blonde, hadn’t been suitable and, honestly, Willow James sees both sides. She understands the pain of being left behind, of not being taken seriously, but she’s experienced a bit of the wood herself now and she understands why the blonde woman made her choice. That doesn’t make it suck any less for Juliet and judging by the way those memories all caused the storge-staircase to collapse tells her everything else she might need to know about these memories and about Juliet.

The sorceress deflates into the earth, letting herself fall completely into it until she accidentally inhales some dirt and has to roll on her side to cough it out. She blinks passively at their surroundings. Scraggly trees surround them on all sides, full of thick green leaves that provide plenty of shade against the summer sun that bleeds through the gaps. It takes a minute, but slowly her body recognizes the change in temperature (underwater had been so cold!) and a thin sheen of sweat breaks over her brow and lip. She groans and lethargically lifts herself from the ground so that she’s sitting upright, then snaps her fingers so that she’s in something more summer-appropriate. Naturally, Willow doesn’t know where they’re at, because they’re in the wood and not in a part she’s familiar with (not that that necessarily narrows down where they could be). The air around them is thick and hot, reminding her of the blistering days of summer in Elsewhere. (Honestly she really wishes she had a slushie right now. Would Juliet like slushies?) Guilt runs through Willow when she thinks of Elsewhere, her plethora of feel-good memories, and realizing that where she has mostly always known her spot in this world, Juliet hasn’t had that same privilege and she just flaunted it in her face pulling together that staircase. Not that she knew what would happen in homing in on her desires, but she still finds herself oddly guilty for it anyway. Probably because she is Willow James and it’s in her contract to worry over everything.

Finally, she gets herself off the ground and onto her feet, dusting off her cut-off shorts and ringer-t. She looks around for Juliet and when her eyes land on the archer, she offers her a smile, hoping that she isn’t making her pity too obvious. ‘Don’t make this weird.’ (Juliet doesn’t need her to feel sorry for her, she needs her to… She actually doesn’t know what she needs, but she probably doesn’t want pity or acknowledgement of what they’ve experienced. She is rather private.) “You need help drying off your dress? Or… do you need to change?” Willow would have offered to help her earlier but everything with Zander ran as a distraction. Respectfully, she keeps her eyes on Juliet’s face but she doesn’t need to look down to know what happens when a white dress gets wet.

She tilts her head up, eventually craning her neck to look up at the patches of blue sky peeking through the trees. “Do you have any idea where we are?” It goes without saying that Willow hasn’t a clue. Lucky, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, gargles something out and attempts to flap their wings, but whatever drowsy spell they were hit with is still affecting the dragon. (What were those entities? Who were they?) “Oh gods–– Lucky!” She rushes over to her companion, who is still lying flat against the earth, and scoops them into her arms. “Ugh, those jerks…” She hugs the dragon to her chest and peppers them in kisses. While Lucky does purr happily against their companion, they’re still trying to say something to her and Willow just shushes them and whispers reassurances until their head is heavy against her chest.

Satisfied that she has comforted her companion enough, she turns back to face Juliet and blinks as a realization hits her. She spins around as if uncertain and then shuts one eye as she thinks. “Okay, a lot has happened so I’m a liiittle loopy, but weren’t we in Okeanos before? Why do you think we ended up in the wood?” Though Milfred’s instructions (and the ones from above) were vague, she assumed that the exit would have taken them back to where they had been or somewhere close. The possibility that they’re back here because of Juliet’s association with the wood as a home does hit the sorceress, but she doesn’t offer this. In fact, she throws that thought far away lest she be tempted. “I guess I should just be grateful that we’re not forever stuck wandering the mindscape of prince Zander–– I like him, but… I worry about what we’d find trapped in there.”

Once they settle on a direction, it’s not unsurprising that Willow turns her head all around to take everything in. What is surprising is that she is not that impressed with this part of the wood, finding it rather run of the mill, and her unstimulated mind wanders back towards Juliet’s memories, thinking specifically of that handsome figure. ‘I knew it wasn't really called flaming red cake. I knew it was just red velvet.’ But that bit of vindication is not the only thing she thinks about. She also thinks about Paris Brooks and a flare of anger surges through her, enough that even a sleepy Lucky takes note and weakly opens their eyes to check on Willow. ‘Respectable husband… Pfft.’ At least Juliet had that mystery person who seemed to accept her, but it still bothers her that more wasn’t done. (And maybe it’s a little…)

“Hey!” She blurts out, running away from that line of thinking. She runs a bit ahead of Juliet and then spins around so that she’s walking backwards (a bold move for someone like Willow James). “We should celebrate our first Lightless case together. Like, I know we don’t know for-sure-for-sure that Zander escaped his state naturally, buuuut we definitely made king Cedrick look bad.” If all the damning things he said hadn’t screwed him, then certainly the way he grabbed her ought to have the kingdom reassessing the character of their king. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal or anything, but maybe when we’re somewhere with hot food, we can treat ourselves? For now though…” Her green eyes sparkle, grinning at the archer. She snaps her fingers and procures two Ding Dongs and tosses one over to Juliet. “These are Ding Dongs and while I usually prefer fresh baked desserts,” like Wilco’s donuts or apple mouth surprise, “these are my mass produced guilty pleasure dessert.” Just as she’s fumbling with the foil wrapper, a low but distinct hum that grows into a roar distracts her. She looks up, searching beyond the branches for the culprit because she could have sworn that was an air––

Not a second later, fire engine sirens blast through the wood only a short distance to their right. 'What the duck.'

 

[ellarose]

As tempted as Juliet is to sink against the soil and lie still until the wood reclaims her, she grants herself a meagre ten seconds before pushing herself from the ground and onto her knees. Then she gives herself another ten before standing, grounding herself through the bare soles of her feet. Twenty seconds. (In some circumstances that would not have been fast enough. However, it seems there is no immediate danger present to confront them. No reason to be fast... perhaps other than to impress someone who's never coming back.) Juliet pinches the inside of her wrist, harder and harder, until it snaps her connection with her recently unveiled memories. Practically, she knows better than to lose herself to a past she can never change. Her 'thoughts', her 'feelings', they only serve to take her in unproductive circles. (Round and round, much like that wheel-shaped monster from Willow James's memories. What was that thing? The sight of the sorceress's companion dropping frozen goo on that one fellow's head might have been amusing, had that ginormous monstrosity not been present.) Once the memories are pushed back at a safe enough distance, she notes how the place they're in is strange and warrants her attention. Aside from the fact that, indeed, it is not Okeanos... something is amiss. If Millicent were here, she would find the words for it. The smell is different? It's as though the trees standing around them are sleeping, bereft of any spirit. ('The trees here are very old.' Millicent once said on a walk, a basket of mushrooms and snail shells swinging in her arms. A light spring rain trickled through the branches, causing them to wave. 'But many of their spirits are pure and childlike. If you're exceptionally quiet, you may be able to hear them screaming when you collect their branches for firewood.') Juliet listened carefully but didn't hear anything. (She did not admit it, but she was immensely grateful for that. Building fires henceforth would instill her with guilt otherwise.) Either way, the archer notices now that it's absent. The trees in this patch of the wood are most certainly missing something they were once rife with.

"...Yes." Juliet responds, only vaguely hearing Willow's question. (...Questions? Oh. Did she ask two questions?) All she knows is that her dress is clinging uncomfortably to her frame and that she needs help. She also knows that Willow James is now wearing short pants. They're a popular style in some of the distant kingdoms-- especially in the sparkling, bustling cities of spades-- and she has also seen pixies wearing them in warmer sections of the wood, across lands of eternal summertime... but evident by her heart pounding in her chest, she is not accustomed enough to the sight. She can see Willow James's legs. Unsure of what to do about this, she wrings her drenched red waves in her hands and tucks her chin down towards her chest to tear her gaze away. A complying wind breezes through, drying her off, and the warmth around them hurries the process considerably. She presses her hands over her skirt to keep it from billowing up. (It is a bit shorter than she is used to. This mermaid style of dress is much more modest with a tail-- the skirt running high in the front and a bit lower through the train in the back. With human legs, the front reaches above the knee.) "Thank you." While she would derive comfort from losing herself in the folds of a cloak or a coat-- the perceived discomfort of overheating herself outweighs it. Short pants are a practical idea.

When Willow attends to a sleepy Lucky, Juliet in turn lowers herself to Grace's side and gently strokes her behind the ears. She's curled up in the grass and blinking her eyes slowly, fighting a deep sleep. The fox releases a little sigh, nuzzling herself against the palm of her hand. "It's all right, Gracie." Juliet reaches into her dress for her locket (pointedly avoiding the red crystal by touch) and presses the switch on the side. It gleams before enlarging slightly, forming itself into little dome on the end of the silver chain, complete with glass windows to see out of and a little door. Grace nods once with understanding, shrinking herself small enough to stand on the pad of Juliet's finger. She levels her companion with the door and the fox curls up soundly on the plush bed inside if it. It had been a gift from Millicent's mother, who had been a friend to all creatures. Especially companions.

"We were." Juliet confirms when Willow mentions their being in Okeanos before. The wood. Somehow, though, her gut warns her that this is not the wood she knows so well. She's traveled it enough to notice. Perhaps it is a part she has yet to explore-- or it's possible they've been cast out into the woods surrounding one of the other major kingdoms of Folklore altogether. Needless to say, she has never encountered a labyrinth such as that before. A world where everyone could see visions and nightmares as she occasionally does. Then there is the matter of those entities and their demands. Their promise to watch them. "This does not feel like the wood. Or, rather... I am not sure where we are." She shakes her head, considering Willow James's other point. "True. Being trapped in the mind of any man would be a never ending nightmare."

Juliet follows at a pace slightly behind Willow for a change, contemplatively peering around the trees for any traces of familiarity. They're just trees, indeed, but there's still something missing. (Millicent would tell her that this is what dictionaries are for-- to find words to explain 'something' beyond just 'something'. The archer knows many words, indeed, but how does one find words for a feeling such as this?) They simply need to keep walking and then they are sure to discover some sort of landmark.

"Celebrate...?" Juliet asks, seized from her thoughts by Willow's proposal. The way she says the word implies she has never heard it before when she most certainly has. She simply-- well, she did not expect such a suggestion. Upon healing victims of the curse, she is often rushed along to the next town. Which is fine. She prefers to keep herself busy, away from others, and does not require glory, parties or needless attention showered upon her. In fact-- the more she forgets her own existence, treating herself instead as a cause, the better. The archer is not the same as the likes of King Cedrick. She does not curse and heal people to manipulate and elevate herself to the status of a heroine in need of praise. She does it to free those who are trapped in inescapable arrangements, to help those who suffered just as she did at the hands of selfish men. And... whoever freed her is out there, somewhere. She is eternally in their debt and wishes to meet them someday. Could it have been the same person who cursed Prince Zander? Now, it seems, she is too far away to know. But she intends to follow this thread of newfound abilities to find them. To ask for the answers she needs to find closure. (...Why did they do it? Why did they save her from Brooks?) Her own freedom did not come without sacrifice. She needs to know. (Find proof, clear her name... but it's too late. She knows, she knows, she knows.)

"Well, I suppose..." The promise of food pries Juliet from her thoughts and she offers a thoughtful nod of consideration. Then she blinks surprisedly when the sorceress offers her a magicked treat, tilting her head to the side. 'Ding dong'? The name does not quite indicate what it might taste like... it rather reminds her of 'clink clanks' and 'klonk klunks'. She barely begins pinching at the foil, following Willow's lead, before... ah. What is that horrible noise? She cringes as the mysterious creature's screams grow louder and louder.

Juliet slips the treat into the pouch she tied to her pearl belt, reaching behind her for her bow and an arrow. "Wait there." She advises the sorceress cautiously before sprinting through the trees and towards the noise, ignoring the sharp pierce of branches and stones against her bare feet. The blur of a red, flashing shape whips through the trees. Releasing an arrow at one of the creature's feet, she scowls as the box-shaped beast turns sharply to the left. Her arrow lands firmly in a tree on the other side of the road instead. The archer prides herself on being fast, but... whatever this thing is, it is much faster. This becomes evident as she runs out onto the hard, smooth road. (It burns the soles of her feet, baking in the summery sunlight.) The yellow lines are especially unusual, but she does not pay them any mind for now. Instead she fixates on the red monstrosity, blaring it's angry war cry, rapidly growing smaller and smaller as it races straight ahead of her. It does not change direction, though, so she lines up another arrow. Yes... her arrow will surely close the distance so long as it does not turn again. She's just about to release it when...

There's a sharp screech of rubber against solid ground and a gust of air brushes over Juliet from the back. Hooonk! A strange, equally monstrous-sounding bird bellows out a cry directly behind her. Juliet swiftly whirls around, finding herself face-to-face with yet another one of the shiny beasts. (Why are there so many of them?) Within the beast she can see what looks to be a person-- an old man-- slamming his fist down in time with the obnoxious 'honk' noises.

He looks... troubled. And rightfully so. Juliet ought to help him. She raises her bow and arrow at the creature's round feet. This one is stopped, therefore she will hit her mark this time.

The man rolls down his window to shout upon seeing what Juliet is doing. "Hey, get out of the road!" He wails on the horn again. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

 

[starboob]

Willow tenses when the sirens blast through the forest, followed by aggressive honking to clear the road of any stubborn drivers, animals, and companions alike. Her brow pinches together in confusion, part of her knowing exactly what has happened and another part of her wondering what in Folklore could sound exactly like a fire engine. She blinks, peering around the wood again and noting how still it is in comparison to what she remembers of Folklore’s wood, with its helpful trees and tiny mushroom dancers skittering along the path ahead of them. Here, the trees are still. The mushrooms sprout in patches of shade or cling to the trees, both tall and fallen, but they do not jump up. They do not dance. They have no crystals growing from their spots. She sucks in a big deep breath through her nose, causing the nearby trees to careen towards her, and realizes what a fool she has been to assume even for a second that this is Folklore. The air tells her everything she needs to know, pulling in familiar scents of the fruit farms that line the (former) coast, the dryness of the wood this time of year, and boiling asphalt. ‘Ah. Dylan’s dingus-ness must be contagious.’ Though she knows this really is her own fault for not considering all possibilities.

Even so, she does not really blame herself since the vague instructions they were given never specified that they could end up Elsewhere. And she never thought of it as a possibility because the labyrinths and Lightless are both things she associates with Folklore. She had assumed that they were only connected to that side of the realms. Knowing that the labyrinth brought them back here––

“Hey!” Willow calls after Juliet, poofs Lucky into the baby sling, and breaks into a run to go after her when she realizes that the archer fully intends to take on the fire engine as she would an ogre, troll, or stone hydra. “Juliet!” She pants, slows her pace and eventually stops with her hands on her knees, staring at the ground as she catches her breath. “Ugh, she really is quick.” (Her heart pinches remembering the look on little Juliet’s face when she thought her lack of speed and strength were the reasons her blonde companion was leaving her behind with the Augusts.)

By the time she catches up with Juliet, the fire engine is long gone and the archer has found a new imagined foe to take on. (Though Willow has only just made the discovery that they are in Evermore, she blames herself for not warning Juliet of what her side is like. Not that she really ever pictured that their adventure would bring them here. Not that Juliet ever asked.) “Juliet!” She cries out her name again, just as the archer releases the bowstring, just as the driver screams a three word catch phrase made famous by pirates. Without a moment to think, Willow throws out a snap and transforms the arrow into an eraser. The arrow-turned-eraser thwaps against the car tire and rolls pathetically to the side of the road.

“S-sorry, sir, my friend–– it’s just––” She fumbles through an explanation, but the old man doesn’t give her the time to finish it.

“Save it. Get off of the road, jackasses!”

To the old man’s credit, they really shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the road–– especially not when Juliet is still shoeless (Willow’s adventurin’ boots were magicked on with her outfit change). Still, he doesn’t have to be so rude about it. Willow bites her tongue, holds back her glare, and pulls Juliet off to the side of the road where she spots another arrow stuck firmly in a tree. The old man makes a big show of driving off, slamming his foot on the gas in a way that causes his tires to shriek and smoke as the vehicle bolts off. Once he’s well out of sight, Willow sticks her tongue out in his direction before she turns back to Juliet.

The annoyance she had been feeling prior melts away and her gaze softens. While still looking at the archer, she reaches for the arrow in the tree and intends to pull it free, but it’s quite stuck. (No. She’s just embarrassingly weak.) Stubbornly, she continues to struggle with it, even going so far as to put both feet on the tree trunk to give herself some extra leverage. The arrow doesn’t budge and she throws her hands up in a, ‘it belongs to the streets now,’ gesture. That Juliet manages to pull it out effortlessly is a dig to Willow’s soft ego, but she's just going to breeze right over that fact. “I loosened it.”

“And I guess we’re in Evermore now?” She laughs awkwardly, unsure of whether or not there’s a better way to announce this unexpected turn of events. She has inkling this is because her memories are what formulated the staircase that led them to the exit, but she doesn’t really want to point that out. Not after witnessing Juliet’s memories and coming to the understanding that home is complicated for her. “And that was a car. Here, we use cars to travel from place to place. They’re like automated carriages.” She shrugs, deciding that explanation will have to do for now. “But that first one you saw is a special kind of car we use for emergencies, specifically fires.” She then explains the purpose of the siren, the reason it had been going so fast, and that that sort of speed is not typical for the average driver. She also reiterates, several times, that cars are not threats and that stopping them with arrows could actually be deadly. "Honestly, you really don't need your weapons here."

“Now, if my inkling is correct, we should be in Elsewhere which is good...” She wrings her hands together as she thinks about a course of action–– her two main thoughts being that they should return to Folklore immediately or that it would be nice to check-in with her family. She has been missing them and the memory staircase only made it worse. Just one night. Then they can return, continue solving Lightless cases, figure out what’s going on with love, save it, clear Juliet’s name, and then come back to Evermore to explore more. (Oh, and somewhere between all of that, she hopes they fall in love and kiss and stuff, but she doesn’t add that to the official mental itinerary she’s compiling.) If Juliet wants to, that is.

“Um, since we’re here… can we visit my family? Is that weird? They’re super welcoming and I’m sure they’d love to have you over. Just for one night, then we can get back to it.” If that isn’t incentive, and she imagines it might not be for the ever-efficient Juliet August, she also offers practical reasons for spending one night (and maybe a day) in Elsewhere. “I also totally forgot to get Milfred shells and sea glass while we were in Okeanos and my grandmas’ property is right along the former coast. There are still some patches where we can look for those. Aaaand there’s a guaranteed home cooked meal if we go.”

Once it is agreed that they will pay a visit to Willow’s family, she pulls out her map of Evermore. A glowing white arrow on the map appears at the edge of the wood, marking their position. On this map there are also a few red stars and a smattering of dots that mark the sorceress's common haunts. Willow taps one of the red stars along the crescent coast, causing it to enlarge. At the same time, the arrow begins to bend and morph as it creates a loop-de-loop, swirly path over to the enlarged red star. A notice writes itself in the air, appearing alongside a five minute timer. “Your Presto Path has been reserved. Please follow the instructions on the back...” Then it scrolls into a fine-print font filled with legalese around risks and such. (Willow could recite the legalese perfectly so she chooses not to refresh herself this time around.)

“Righto. This is going to feel weird.” And that? That is the understatement of the century. The second Willow links their arms together and casts the glyph, their bodies stretch like putty, becoming no wider than the opening of a straw as they’re launched through that loop-de-loop, swirly path seen on the Presto Map™. (She might not like Kinsley, but her great great grandpa was a genius for creating a safer way to rapid travel.) However, to Willow James it doesn’t feel like much as she’s been using this method of travel since she was three. For Juliet, it might be the equivalent of riding a particularly cruel roller coaster that requires a waiver before riding.

When they land, they land on their feet at the edge of a dirt road. The road is lined on both sides with tall green grass that waves with the light breeze. Despite the ocean being gone, the air still smells faintly of salt. There are only three houses along this road; two large ones that reside on the side closest to the former coast and another, smaller and more rundown house on its own. Aside from the houses, the land is also covered in rows and rows of berry bushes. Unseen, but heard, there are chickens clucking and goats bleating. (There is a cow, but she’s pretty quiet and probably asleep.)

Willow points to one of the large houses, the one that appears to be at least three houses stacked ontop of each other, but before she can even identify it, a loud crack, like lightning splitting a tree, interrupts her. Actually, it’s three loud cracks in quick succession and, soon, three pairs of arms wrap around Willow James, threatening to kill her in a deadly family hug.

“Willow James!”​

“My grandbaby!”

“What happened to your arms?”​

“We missed you! You didn’t even let me pack you your favorites.”

“––Who do I have to beat up?”​

“Oh, and who is this?” Juniper whispers, loudly, not attempting to hide her words at all. As the group pulls back from Willow to give her some space to breathe, the older woman is bearing a grin as she looks between the two. Her dark brown eyes flicker with amusement, somehow knowing something that the two have hardly acknowledged themselves. (Or maybe Willow is still paranoid about the extent of "grandma-telepathy.") “Elfie, Willow has gone off on a big adventure and brought home a girl.”

Willow’s face immediately lights up like a stoplight and she covers her face with her hands. ‘Why are they so embarrassing?’

“Indeed, she has.” Elva smiles warmly at Juliet, her green eyes just as bright as Willow’s, if not a perfect mirror. Compared to the memories, little has changed about grandma Elva’s appearance. The only differences are more wrinkles in her dark skin and her shoulder length locs are completely gray now. Though age has taken away some of her height, she still stands a few inches taller than Juliet. (This contrasts Juniper, who is shorter than even Willow–– though that is partially because of the hunch she has developed.) “I apologize for my granddaughter's boorish manners, we tried to raise her right but it seems she’s a little left.” Everyone rolls their eyes at that one and Leif and Willow both give her a thumbs down. “Anyway, I am Elva and this is my wife, Juniper, and––”

“I’m Leif!” The mountain of a man motions like he’s about to wrap Juliet in one of his famously back-breaking hugs and Willow steps in before he can, putting herself between the two. (While Willow hasn’t necessarily picked up on Juliet’s touch-aversion, she generally knows that Leif can be a little too enthusiastic and, as a result, his hugs can be a little too strong.) “Hey–– what gives? You know I’m a hugger.”

“You smell, dude. Non-family members shouldn’t have to suffer through that.” Willow pinches her nose and exaggerates her disgust to which Leif just rolls his eyes. Though he does lift one of his arms to check and shrugs as if to say, ‘she’s got me there.’ “And, everyone–– I was getting around to introducing to my companion, by the way–– this is Juliet August. We're saving love together and she's from Folklore.”

“Folklore!” Juniper gasps, lifting a hand to her cheek in surprise. “My! You’ve traveled quite a ways away from home–– come, come. Let’s get you both inside. I have a thousand and one questions for you, Juliet August, but I will save them for after I have fed you. Say, what are your favorites?"

“Jun, don’t scare the girl off. She’s only just arrived.”

“Fine. I will narrow it down to seven… hundred.”

Elva rolls her eyes with a smile and looks apologetically to Juliet. “Excuse my wife, she is just enthusiastic. Would you like any help with your things? And how long do you two intend to stay? You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Stay forever!"

"Jun!"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet isn’t certain of where to level her gaze when Willow is abruptly embraced by her family. They appear somewhat familiar now, having seen glimpses of them quite recently through those fond-flavored memories of home. (Willow James has gotten her wish. She’s home now— which makes sense, when the archer truly considers it, because she wanted it more.) Even so, she does not wish to stare or intrude upon the moment. In fact, she is content standing to the wayside, observing the surrounding area of scattered homes and berry bushes. The fresh, salty air reminds her of a place or feeling she can't quite remember. It's so peaceful here. Or it would be if not for the anxious tenseness stiffening her shoulder blades. She is unprepared for this. Unprepared to interact with anyone on this side of the gateway, if her reaction to the 'car' was any indication. (They are terrifying and monstrous boxes, regardless of what Willow James has to say about 'transportation'. She is still quite whiplashed from that other form of 'transportation' they just took.) She is also unprepared to witness to such familiar displays of affection. It's not as though she's been sheltered from the world beyond the nobility of Amoria. The archer has witnessed more familiar families embrace their loved ones on crowded streets and in villages outside the kingdoms, in places where the tirelessly acted rituals of proper etiquette and poise held no meaning. While she never quite carried herself with the same air as the other nobles, she also finds herself in an equally awkward position when faced with such unashamed openness and familiarity. She's only ever observed this sort of affection from a distance, as little more than a passerby who keeps her head low and hurries along the path, knowing that she will never have that. Never be a part of that.

But now they're looking at her. Gnats. Well, it had to happen eventually. And she has plenty of practice, having her life upended and being the outsider. So Juliet keeps her chin raised as she takes turns looking each of them in the eye as they introduce themselves. Elva, Juniper...

What stuns her the most, perhaps, is that they regard her warmly, despite having just met her. Without sharing her name, showing a seal, or wearing fine clothes. Even as she stands there with cut up bare feet and a dirtied dress— there’s no trace of thinly veiled disgust to be found among their kind sets of brown and green eyes. (Nobles pride themselves on their politeness, hold it up like a shield, but their true intentions are quite easy to read.) A summery warmth clings to her skin, lending a disobedient wildness to some of her red waves, and she's still recovering from the whiplash of their travels. While she has no qualms appearing at Millicent's home in such a state, she wishes she'd taken a moment to wash first out of respect. For a moment, her bare toes cling into the earth like a gecko's as she stands up tall and refuses to let herself slouch or fidget now. (...Words, yes. Indeed. She can manage at least that, can she not?) She tenses, though, when Leif also introduces himself and approaches with his arms open. This is Willow James's brother...? The one responsible for the Starbursts. He is tall and also moving towards her and she does not know what to do about this. (She only understands that it would be impolite to duck away... or react on her more instinctual urges to protect herself. Willow James may be sweet and forgiving, but she knows she will never forgive her if she accidentally cuts her brother's hand off.) She deflates with relief when Willow steps in before she can embarrass or vilify herself to the James family.

They are... lively. Lively in the way that Elise and Millicent are lively. That is not such a bad thing. Especially when the subject of food comes up. Ah. (Looking at the berry bushes did remind her of just how ravished she is.) She and Willow had been much too busy to partake of the food at yet another royal banquet-- only to then be cast into a battle. The battling was admittedly short-lived this time around, but they still went through quite a lot while exploring the labyrinth.

"I'm not frightened." Juliet assures earnestly. Not completely. Overwhelmed may be a better word for it. "If I was, I would have no appetite."

Mother may not be standing beside her now, but Juliet feels her pinching her arm for that one. (Or maybe that's the tiny heartbeat throb in the place she pinched herself earlier, already purpling slightly.) She rubs her hand over it and sucks her lower lip inward to bite down on it. Blurting out the first thing that came into her mind... about food, no less. Regardless of anyone's class, she believes she must mind her manners with anyone who opens their doors to her.

“It's a pleasure to meet you all. Pardon me for appearing before you all in this state unannounced.” Juliet offers a slight curtsey. It doesn't seem to be Evermore's way, but she supposes it will still communicate her point of respecting those who are welcoming her into their home... no questions asked. Among them, she sees not a single raised eyebrow of skepticism. No whispers shared among those standing at a distance. Of all the times she's ever been an outsider, this is certainly not the worst. "Anything you have on hand will do. I will eat nearly anything." She briefly considers mentioning her curiosity about 'Wilco' and their donuts that Willow James praised so highly... but she knows she's in no place to be demanding. Aside from that, her knowledge of Evermore's food mostly consists of Starbursts, Cola, breakfast bars and now Ding Dongs. "I am rather fond of berries. What grows around here?"

Juliet pauses upon being asked about her things. Ah, yes. She has questions of her own to answer. (Perhaps seven hundred of them. She best prepare herself.)

"I've no things with me. Our visit was admittedly rather unexpected." Juliet confesses, peering down at her bare feet. "We were attending to matters in one of Folklore's sea kingdoms. Things went awry and we ended up here." She manages a very slight smile of her own, somehow unable to stop herself from mirroring the expression when the older woman smiles at her. (She has Willow James's eyes. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that Willow James has her eyes?) "I would have washed and worn shoes for our meeting otherwise." She nods towards her companion. "Willow has been very kind and offered me some of her things... although I am not certain they would fit me the same." Then she stops herself before stepping foot inside of the house. (From the doorway, it is already a bit reminiscent of Millicent's home-- filled with well-loved personal items. Although it notably lacks the creepy decor, such as hand wreathes or garlands.) Regardless of her state, she could walk into Millicent's home without worrying. (Millicent likes mess.) However... "I would not want to track dirt through your home. Is there a place where I can wash up?"

 

[starboob]

The three stacked houses that make up the Rhode Island home cast a long shadow over the equally lengthy dirt driveway. All of its homes are cabin style and, though difficult to tell since the wood shingles are so faded, flecks of old paint suggest that it was all once vibrantly colored in shades of pink, mirroring the morning sky. (While not visible from this angle, the top house has a rounded turret sticking out of its back face.) A porch wraps around the home, decorated with wind chimes, bird feeders, and plenty of swing seating. In addition to these furnishings, a golden tiger sleeps on the porch, one paw lazily drooping over the ledge as he soaks in the summer sun. Even from the outside (perhaps especially from the outside) it is clear this home is well loved and lived in.

So when Juliet mentions tracking in dirt from the outdoors…

“Oh, dear. Oh, tiger.” Grandma Juniper dramatically grabs onto grandma Elva’s arm, an exaggerated look of shock on her face as her other hand drapes over her heart. “She hasn’t shoes! Those dirty little feet are going to ruin my grandmother’s vintage rugs–– I can feel her rolling over in her grave!”

Willow and Leif both chuckle over their grandma’s bit, whereas Elva rolls her eyes with affection, shaking her head. (Juniper has always been one for theatrics and general foolery.) She bops Juniper’s nose and then wags her finger scoldingly. “You are a silly goose.”

“Tiger.”

Simultaneously both women return their attention to Juliet and grin, lifting their dress skirts to reveal their bare dirt covered feet. “No worries at all, hun. The gneabils like to collect whatever muck we track in for their projects. But I’ll get you set up with some supplies so you can tend to your injuries.”

With the matter of cleanliness settled, Elva gestures for everyone to step inside. However, before they can cross the threshold, the sound of beating hooves and squealing interrupts them. When Willow looks behind (after squeaking), she sees Wilco, a warthog, shrinking down to an appropriate house size as he bolts away from Foxtrot, a capuchin monkey. Her eyes widen and she pulls Juliet to the side before they can be knocked over by the companions. Leif grabs onto his baseball cap and chases on after them as they stampede through the hallway and out the backdoor in the kitchen. “Wilco!”

Willow lets go of Juliet’s shoulder and offers the newcomer an explanation. “Wilco, the warthog, and Foxtrot like to antagonize each other so Leif or Clover usually have to break them up before it can get really nasty.” This hasn’t been much of an issue ever since Clover moved out. And that’s why Willow’s brow pinches together when she realizes that Foxtrot is here. “Clover’s here? Are her and auntie Barbie talking again?”

“Mmm, they’re being polite.” Juniper, who fell into Elva when the warthog ran past, adjusts herself back to her feet using her wife’s arm for support then goes to dust off her skirt. “Crimson, of course, is here too. They’re only here for the family dinner tonight then I believe they’re going back to Somewhere.” Elva nods to confirm this information. “Speaking of the family dinner, you both came just in time! My non-pretentious nieces and nephews wanted to get together since they’re going to be here for the fair this weekend.”

While Juniper goes over the four families who are coming–– Willow honestly can’t keep track of all the names–– they (finally) step into the house and are hit with the smell of old books, eucalyptus, and honey. (Willow melts a little bit, having missed the Rhode Island house so much. She might not live here anymore, but it’ll always be home to her.) To the left of the entryway is the living room with an entire bookshelf of board games, well worn seating, and an ancient television set; to the right is the dining room with a long table and bench seating. The hallway directly in front of them is narrow and leads into the kitchen. And in between the hallway and dining room is a square spiral staircase. When they walk under it, it becomes obvious that the Rhode Island home might actually be bigger than just three cabins stacked on top of each other; looking up the staircase reveals an impossibly long trek up to the literal sky.

Aside from that, family portraits deck the walls of every room, though it’s not nearly as cluttered or haphazardly done as Milfred’s wall decor. The frames are neatly arranged–– well, they are after Juniper snaps her fingers to fix the ones Wilco and Foxtrot bumped into–– and are organized by family. Between portraits, if one looks carefully, there are small windows, doors, and ladders carved into the wood, belonging to the gneabils. (The gneabils are yet to be seen. They can be quite shy when a newcomer arrives.) Not only are there family portraits in every room, but it seems to be a rule that every room has one bookcase and at least three (3) leaning towers of worn books.

As they continue down the hall into the kitchen, Juniper continues the conversation happily. “It’s a good thing you have an appetite, Juliet. Seconds are a requirement in this household and thirds are strongly, strongly recommended.” Willow nods to this statement. Over the years, she’s learned to strategically pile her plates so that she can keep up with family’s ability to eat, because it is well known that Willow James has a bird’s stomach. (Unless she eats one of those “magic” brownies, but that’s not exactly her favorite method to use. Especially not at a family gathering. This reminds her to warn Juliet about accepting food from Leif. She needs to be quick on that lest he take advantage while she’s not looking.) “Skipping dessert is also unthinkable! It will not be tolerated.”

Juniper then, finally, answers the archer’s question by bringing them into the sunbathed kitchen, sweeping her arm towards the countertop island that has three large baskets of berries sitting on top. “All kinds. It’s a surprise every year! This year we got strawberries, salmon berries, and very berries.” Willow gasps. She loves very berries–– the ultimate blueberry and blackberry hybrid. “Help yourself to these or feel free to pick them fresh whenever Willow gives you the tour.”

While grandma Juniper busies herself checking on various dishes cooking on the overcrowded gas stove, grandma Elva pulls out a chair for Juliet to sit in then goes off to collect supplies for her injured feet. The kitchen is set at the back of the house and has a large window that overlooks a grassy field out back. (Right now, Leif can be seen wrestling with Wilco and Foxtrot.) A border of brambles lines the edge of the field, marking the point where the field dips into a cliffside that leads down to the (former) beach. What used to be an ocean view from the window now shows an expanse of dry rocks and a lighthouse that sits on a lone island for nothing.

“And I wouldn’t disregard the little clothing thief’s wardrobe.” Juniper looks accusingly towards Willow who, much like a toddler, pretends she can’t see her grandma and therefore cannot be seen herself. (Object permanence is a burden.) “She has stolen from those of many shapes and sizes, but if you don’t find anything in the thief's hovel, just go to the laundry room and steal something clean. I’m sure Willow can offer you tips on how to steal clothes.” She lowers her voice, offering the archer a grave warning. “If you’ve given my granddaughter any articles of clothing, consider them rehomed.”

Elva returns sometime in the middle of Juniper explaining Willow’s thieving tendencies and sets Juliet up with a basket of first-aid supplies (including the healing balm known as ‘palm balm’) and a bucket of warm water. “She doesn’t often steal shoes, however. Much too cumbersome to resize a pair. We’ll try to find you something suitable on that front.”

While her grandmas and Juliet converse, Willow pulls out a cutting board, knife, and gathers up some of the strawberries, plus a kiwi and mango from the fridge, to cut up for the archer. Once they’re in neat slices, she arranges them on a plate with a small bowl of whipped cream in the center; she also adds in handfuls of the salmon berries and very berries.

She joins Juliet and sets the plate next to her, indicating that it's for her. “Careful with the strawberries. You may never taste a strawberry as sweet and delicate as the ones that grow on Rhode Island lane.” She plucks one from Juliet’s plate (revenge for the banquet) and pops it into her mouth, relishing in the explosion of sun kissed sugar with a hum before she moves to give her some space.

“What’s been going on while I’ve been gone?” Willow asks, leaning against the counter and eyeing the various pots on the stove and dishes cooling on the island. ‘What’s for dinner?’ Before she can start making guesses, grandma Elva approaches the heroine and holds up some healing gauze. Willow nods and lifts up her arms for her grandma to inspect. Though her grandma doesn’t voice her concern with words, she does click her tongue, quietly wrapping the bruises left by King Cedrick. (She never wanted Willow to fight.)

“Nothing much. Same old, same old.” Elva shrugs as she finishes up the wrappings. She places kisses on each one and they glow and shimmer in response, supplying a pleasant chill over her bruises. “Although, they have closed the lakes indefinitely. The bleeding is worse this summer and it’s starting to flood the surrounding wood, attracting all sorts of predators and malevolent magic.”

“On the upside, the mist hasn’t taken anyone in a week!” Juniper claps her hands, turning towards the rest of the group now that she's satisfied everything is cooking as it should. “They’ve been lingering by the lakes since the bleeding's increased–– another reason why the council made the decision to sequester the area. And somewhat related to the council…”

Oh no.

“This reminds me, your old school friend, the one who is famous now… Dorothea! She stopped by just the other day. She looked upset.” Juniper frowns. She always liked Dorothea. Willow still remembers when she invited Dorothea over to hang out and the two hit it off like old souls reunited. “I know you two aren’t close anymore, but I think you should visit her.” Completely missing the way Willow shifts and fiddles with her fingers over that terrible idea, Juniper throws a bright smile at the archer. “What went awry in the sea kingdom?"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet stays quiet while being led through the house. There is enough to take in that before she can think to voice a single one of her questions, the mention of another unknown name or the sight of some strange object replaces it. (Initially, her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment at the laughter provoked by her concern, thinking she'd said something strange... seeing the two older women reveal their own feet made her realize this was not the case. It's fine. They're not acting out of malice, like Lavinia and the other girls snickering behind their hands about all the 'common things' she wasn't privy to.) This brief scare has her feeling rather small, though, like she's no more than a lost child again. Especially compared to this big house and the big, unknown world outside of it. Tired from their travels (and from chasing cars) she resolves to stay silent and observe instead. This is her strategy for new environments-- to learn by watching, to think before she acts or speaks. It's only for one night or so. The tension in her shoulders loosens slightly upon smelling the welcoming, warm aroma of food mingled with honey. Entering the kitchen, she notices the countertops are lined with mysterious, somewhat threatening objects she has never seen before. In trying to ignore them, she finds herself glancing out the back window at Leif wrestling with the unruly companions. (Most importantly, she wonders if the warthog is somehow responsible for procuring the 'donuts' Willow spoke of before. She had called them 'Wilco's donuts'. She resolves to ask this question when they're alone again-- as it will certainly evoke more laughter if she is mistaken.) Beyond them, she gazes out at the cliffs and the sandy place where she suspects the sea used to be. The former coast, as Willow had described it, is not a name but truly a former coast. Something about the absence of the sea pulls her, wrenching at her heartstrings. The mer-blood in her, perhaps.

Her attention is drawn by the mention of berries and the chair she is offered. Accepting it with a quiet 'thank you', she lowers herself down into it and crosses her ankles. Left with nothing to do with her hands, she idly picks at the folds of her skirt. (While she's never been particularly selective about her clothes, there is suddenly nothing she wants more than to change out of this dress. This desire goes beyond the way it makes her stand out. She simply longs to wear something that looks as comfortable as the garments everyone else in this household is wearing.) The archer tilts her head at the mention of Willow being a clothing thief, looking between the relatives through the exchange.

Juliet sucks in her lower lip and then bites down when she considers mentioning that she's a formidable thief herself. (It's more than just food off of dinner plates. She had to learn very early on to be nimble and crafty. Like a fox. She strokes her thumb gently over her locket.) From experience, she understands that this is not a suitable topic for first meetings. It'd be unwise to out herself as a thief on her first visit into their home. She does not want to give them reason to unnecessarily suspect her. (Everyone is suspicious enough of her as it is.) It would be nice, she thinks, to have one space where she is not perceived in such a light. Where she can just be Juliet, unattached to her mysterious history in the wood and other such infamous stories.

At the very least, Juliet is grateful to accept the bucket of water and medical supplies that Elva offers her, giving her something productive to do with her hands. Swashing one of the towels around in the bucket, she immediately takes solace in cleaning her face. She's about to tend to her injuries (although something distantly nags at her at the thought of doing so, telling her to wait... although this thought disappears entirely when Willow offers her a plate of berries.) Distracted, the archer observes the plate beside her with serious eyes-- curious and thorough as usual-- being careful as Willow advises. Then she prioritizes tasting one of the Rhode Island strawberries over treating her injuries. She takes her time chewing the first, savoring the sweet flavor, and her cheeks blush naturally with delight as she swallows. (One by one, the other fruits rapidly disappear. Juliet is often chastised for wolfing down her food... but this is what happens when one uses their mouth for eating instead of speaking at dinner parties.) The archer remains silent as they discuss matters that she has little to no knowledge of and decides not to ask right away. Willow wants to ask her own questions about what she has missed... and she has clearly missed her family. This is her home and Juliet does not want to interrupt or take up any of their time together with her confusion. If there is anything she needs to know, she will ask at a more appropriate time.

Juliet notes passively that through the mentions of bleeding lakes, malevolent magic, and the mists, Willow appears particularly unsettled at the mention of her 'old school friend'.

Eventually, though, their attention is drawn towards the sea kingdom and her by extension. Juliet bites her lip again, tasting sugar from the fruits this time, and distractedly reaches for the towel again. (It's calming, wringing it between her hands.) She takes a breath and begins with an oversimplified explanation of the Lightless cases in Folklore, about the request from the queen to heal her brother in Okeanos, and their investigation and how that eventually lead them to the labyrinth of Prince Zander's mind and-- by extension-- into Evermore. She condenses this incredibly long story into something as brief and concise as possible-- still not wanting to take any more time than necessary from Willow James and her family.

"We left the kingdom in a state of chaos after exposing the king's crimes. I am not sure how our disappearance is going to appear to the public... but the news regarding the king should take precedence for a while. While the situation in Folklore is urgent, I believe we can spare a day or two on a visit." Juliet admits, nodding at Willow. She knows it's important to her-- perhaps more than she should, after everything she witnessed in the labyrinth. (It may be best to be absent for the king's inevitable transformation, too. She, Juliet August, targeted the king. There is a part of her that has not yet processed this fact.) She instinctually begins to dab at her feet with the sopping wet towel in her hands... and then realizes her mistake too late when her skin reacts to the moisture on her legs, growing silvery-blue scales down her thighs and morphing her legs into a mermaid's tail. If that isn't mortifying enough-- one of her fins proceeds to knock over the bucket of water as it flops clumsily across the kitchen. She braces herself with a sharp breath, quickly grabbing the sides of her chair to hold herself steady. When her balance is reclaimed, she hides half of her rapidly reddening face with one hand. "I apologize. I, ah, I should have thought about that before trying to..." Of course. There's been so much to process, she completely forgot. She's still wearing her swimsuit beneath her dress in lieu of undergarments. Which also means that she needs more than just shoes. Because until she changes out of it, whenever her legs get even slightly wet she's going to... ah, how bothersome. She carefully maneuvers her tail away from the puddle around the fallen bucket. "So long as I stay dry, the magic will wear off in three minutes."

 

[starboob]

One or two days. One or two days!! The second that Juliet admits they can spare more than just one night back home visibly lifts the sorceress’s spirits, reflected in her star speckled eyes and barely contained grin. (It’s been hard for her to be away from home these last few weeks. The excitement of everything in Folklore has been distraction enough, but the ache has nevertheless been present.) Already, she’s filled to the brim with ideas of where to take Juliet and the things they should do while they’re here–– they won’t be able to do even half of the things on her list, she knows, but the endless possibilities are nevertheless spinning daydreams in her mind. (Strategy wise, she thinks it’ll be very good for them to explore Elsewhere anyway. It’s possible that Juliet might notice things that Willow wouldn’t otherwise and perhaps they’ll find some similarities between the love cases on both sides of the realms. Willow is steadfast in her belief this is all connected. They just have to tug on the right thread, pun fully intended.)

While Juliet’s storytelling abilities do leave everyone in the kitchen wanting, no one presses the archer (or Willow) for more details. (Most likely Willow guesses they’ve had enough escapades of their own to fill in the gaps. She also guesses they might not want to relive those times by knowing too much about her own.) Rather, both grandmas gleam with pride and while it shines brightest over Willow, they are no less proud of the archer’s part in this. (She knows that though they aren't saying or showing it right now, they are both teeming with worry and will be for as long as she pursues this quest.) “That brings me back to our youth, Elfie.” Elva acknowledges this only by leaning over to kiss Juniper’s temple and says nothing directly on the subject of exposing kings. Instead she tells them to put their weapons away before the field is full of children.

Elva might have offered more, but right then Juliet’s scales shimmer down her legs and her tail merges her legs together. This surprises both Juniper and Willow enough to jump while Elva quickly reaches for a towel to mop up the mess left by the now rolling bucket. No one is bothered by the mess and no one says anything of the transformation–– it’s just a bit of magic. The only thing Juniper says to address this reveal is, “Ah, I wish we had time to prepare a room. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable in dry rooms.” Then she looks forlornly out the window, hand over her heart.

After the excitement has passed and once Juliet’s legs return to her, Juniper recommends that Willow give her a tour and informs them that people are arriving around six and the dinner will most likely happen around eight— despite everyone’s best efforts to eat earlier. She says this and slips them both cheese rolls so that they don’t get too hungry before dinner. (They’re still warm.) Willow breaks hers in half, letting the melty cheese stretch so that she can gather it with her tongue in the most (un)couth manner possible. She recommends this method to Juliet as well (with a trail of cheese hanging between her lips and the bun), unsure of whether or not they have cheese rolls like this in Amoria. Especially since she was wrong about everyone having figured out that fried dough plus sugar equals the best thing ever (donuts!).

Once they’re out in the field, the entire expanse of land becomes visible to them. Most of the land directly behind the house has been cleared away and turned into a grassy field full of swaying daisies, but most everywhere else is filled with her family’s berry bushes. Willow points out a barn set off to the side, explaining that the few Rhode Island farm animals live in there and companions do sleep in there on occasion. (Like Lucky when they come back late and don’t want to disturb Willow.) Though she doesn’t think this is going to be an issue with Grace, she does mention that companions cannot be larger than the size of a wolf in the common spaces of the home.

After dropping off the sleeping dragon in the barn, Willow takes Juliet to the edge of the field and shows her more of dune-scape view. The crescent shape of the coast used to be more defined when the ocean was here and she tries to draw out the border for the archer to visualize, explaining that one summer her mermaid friends warned they were never going to return after that year. But when they left, they took the ocean with them. There’s never been an explanation for why and no one on the council has traveled to Marianas to ask. Willow sighs. “I miss it. I’d do anything to return the crescent coast back to its former state, but I don’t think anyone on the council is interested.” Which isn’t surprising because the council members (and other rich people in Elsewhere) tend to travel to the Sommer Triangle or the You York coast for their beach getaways. Those coast lines were not affected. She also bitterly mentions this to Juliet.

Once she wraps up the tour, they make their way to rinse off some tin buckets for berry picking. Well, Willow rinses off the buckets since they have to be careful about Juliet’s legs for the time being. A soccer ball rolls over to them while this is being completed and Willow James, possessed by some desire to be impressive, tries to meet the ball as it rolls over to them and… completely misses. Her leg flies up into the air and she nearly throws herself off balance like Charlie Brown, but thankfully spares herself that embarrassment. (She is absolutely mortified that Juliet August has witnessed her fail so miserably. The ball was right in front of her.) She is not spared from her older cousin, Clover, and her partner, Crimson, running over to them as peels of laughter erupt from their lips having witnessed her pathetic attempt at sports.

Clover is a short woman with brown skin, a round freckled face, and short wavy locks that give her a boyish look. (She often is mistaken for a boy and auntie Barbie often harrasses her about her appearance. This is probably why they are only polite right now.) She wears glasses with huge wayfarer frames and has her nose pierced twice on the right side with thin gold hoops in each piercing. Her partner, Crimson, is taller (but she’s not tall) with long plum-dyed hair that is tied up in a high ponytail right now. Both of them are barefoot wearing volleyball shorts and sleeveless t-shirts that they’ve cropped.

Willow makes a grumpy introduction and Clover invites them to a match, but loudly whispers to Juliet she would understand if she doesn’t want to be on a team with Willow James, sports disaster extraordinaire. (“Hey! I was on the dragon boat team the last year of high school!” “Only because the sport is called dragon boat and the captain wanted Lucky at matches. Weren’t you benched every race?”) In any case, they get out of playing a game with two of the biggest sports lesbians she knows and Willow claims this is a very good thing, because they often argue over the tiniest infractions. They are very competitive. (Clover, Crimson, and Leif were all athletes in high school and while they didn’t play the same sports, they did compete over who could win the most titles. Leif ultimately won when he went pro. Willow shares this with Juliet at some point.)

When the sports lesbians are out of earshot Willow explains that Crimson takes a tally of everyone who makes a stupid joke about her hair color and name combination. It’s entirely intentional and her way of sifting through tiresome people with minimal effort. In a similar vein, Willow also advises Juliet to brace herself for her unfunny uncles’ jokes about how her and Crimson should switch names. She apologizes in advance for this and informs her that it’s okay to not laugh. In fact, she recommends not laughing.

When they finally make it over to the berry patches, Willow continues on about Clover and Crimson. It’s clear in her voice that she admires their relationship and might’ve been envious of it at one point, too. They’ve known each other since they were babies–– their moms are best friends–– were even born in the same hospital two hours apart; their thread appeared when they were twelve after Clover watched Crimson throw a football with a perfect spiral. “I’ve always thought it was cool that they’ve known each other their whole lives.” She doesn’t say anything about how she wishes they could have met as kids, because it’s not that she actually wishes for anything different. Just conceptually, she’s always liked Crimson and Clover’s story.

As they gather berries (for a dessert that Willow is trying to keep as a surprise from Juliet), they naturally graze off the bushes. This is a requirement of berry picking, Willow is certain, and whenever she bites into a berry that is too good to keep to herself, she offers the second half (and last bite) to Juliet so they can share the sweetness together. At some point, Juliet timidly asks her if Wilco the warthog is capable of procuring donuts and Willow blinks in surprise, having not expected that question. She shakes her head and explains that Leif named his companion after the donut shop. This also reminds her to warn Juliet about accepting sweets from Leif. “Under no circumstances, Juliet August, are you to accept baked goods from my brother. He’s going to say they’re special or that they’re magical, but don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.” She fails to mention that these are euphemisms for pot, mostly because she gets distracted by a bee that lands on her thigh. She has to stop to greet the bee.

They wrap up with the berries, pink cheeked from the sun, and head inside with full buckets in tow. In the kitchen, Willow whispers about the secret dessert to Juniper and her eyes sparkle, nodding along. “Yes, if she loves berries, she’ll love that. I’ll get Crimson to help.”

As she prepares Juliet to go into the upper levels of the Rhode Island home, starting on a spiel about the stairs, the house shakes and dust rains down over them. “Oh, perfect timing! That was someone arriving.” She pulls them under the staircase and has Juliet look up. “All these different levels are to make room for the different families who stay here. Right now, it’s just Leif, my grandmas, and uncle and auntie, but growing up there were a bunch of different families cycling through.” She then informs Juliet that they won’t be taking the stairs, because Evermore knows that stairs are evil. She instead takes Juliet to a closet under the stairs–– or so it appears. Once she flips a lightswitch on the outside of the closet, it transforms into a rickety cage elevator.

At the third level, they make their exit and Willow takes them down an even narrower hallway than the one downstairs leading them to a dumbwaiter. The dumbwaiter doesn’t expand to accommodate multiple passengers so Willow has Juliet go in first before she follows her up to her bedroom, which is the back turret known as the princess tower. The room is rounded with a high pointed ceiling, neatly kept, and sunlit. A third of the wall is taken up by a magicked window that moves with the position of the sun, giving her the best lighting throughout the day. When she lived here, there were more books on the shelves and the walls had been covered in various posters, and now all that remains are leftovers of the things she didn’t mind leaving behind. Like a photostrip of herself and Meredith from the mall. (She only left this because she has a million other pictures of Meredith.) Or the ribbon she got from a sixth grade spell tournament. (She placed fourth.) Or the small unopened present sitting on her desk. (Just guess who it’s from.) The bed in her room is twin sized and she doesn’t even bother offering it to Juliet. (Even if she did share this bed with Meredith all through high school, Juliet doesn’t seem to be a cuddler. Not yet anyway.) She just tells her they can set something up on the floor later.

As more voices start to filter through the house, as the backyard starts to fill with children, she decides freshening up should be priority. She summons up her complete wardrobe and racks and racks of clothes pop into existence all around them. Willow stands in the center with her lips pursed as she looks between the selection and Juliet, pointing out a few different sections where she thinks the archer will find things in her size (or larger). Honestly, rather than describe all the different styles in her wardrobe, it’s easier to say that only the average goth would be disappointed by the options and everyone else would be satisfied. The selection is quite diverse and she imagines Juliet will find something suitable. (Imagining Juliet August in Evermore styles makes her heart jump over the possibilities and she wonders what she’ll end up choosing. She’s especially excited for tomorrow when she takes her shopping.)

She shows Juliet the bathroom where she can freshen up before dinner and lets her use the facilities first. Meanwhile she picks out a few different outfits for herself and then accidentally falls asleep on the floor. (Somewhere she realizes that not only have they spent almost half a day in Elsewhere, they also already spent a full day preparing for a banquet, exposing a king, rescuing a prince, and solving a labyrinth.) She isn’t sure what wakes her up but she sleepily recommends a nap before freshening up herself.

Now that they’ve explored, changed, and rested the screaming, shouting, and thrills of laughter echo from outside. From the window she can see that the family has set up the dining room table in the backyard and duplicated it, as well as set up the floating lanterns. “I think we can slide in without anyone noticing if we go now.”

Willow is wrong. The second they step out onto the porch, her uncle Lennie (Clover’s dad) breezes over to them with a bright smile on his face. “Heyy! Willow, great to see ya in one piece, kid.” He claps her on the back and squeezes her neck affectionately before turning to bow to Juliet. (His breath smells like beer, so he’s probably a little tuned.) “My ma says you’re Juliet, the one watching out for our little Willow, eh?” Little Willow’s cheeks flame at the nickname. “Lemme tell you, Juliet, kid gave us a real scare running away like she did to find you and go off on her mission.” Note: Willow did not specifically seek out Juliet when she ran away and uncle Lennie’s facts are a little shakey. “But we’re counting on her safe return once this is over. Can you promise me you’ll keep her from being too reckless? She has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Doesn’t like to slow down. The side effects of being too smart, I say. Anyway, promise me that and I’ll help ya pile together a plate. Mom also tells me you’re not from ‘round here so I’ll help you avoid everything my wife and the cousins call a delicacy. That’s code for weird shit. Say, how ya liking it here so far?”

 

[ellarose]

For once, Juliet takes her time deciding on an outfit for their evening plans. Perhaps because there is nothing limiting about the vast array of clothes that materializes around her. The wardrobe in her house on Cornelia street presented her with a choice in regard to color and little more. All of the dresses had been selected for her by her mother, who was insistent on knowing what colors looked best on her. These mainly consist of whites, browns, greens, and blues-- all shades of pink and red had to be approved by her discerning eye before they were allowed to hang in her wardrobe. (Her striking red hair, mother always said, made it quite a challenge to find flattering dresses. Although it's fair to say that everything about Juliet made the August's lives a challenge in some way or another. 'This is good.' Her father had told her once with a humored expression on his face, patting the back of her hand after a disastrous dinner. 'She needs a project to keep herself occupied.') She does not want to think about the fact that her mother had been so overzealous because she had wanted her to attract a suitable husband. The 'project' hadn't been about making her happy or comfortable-- it had been about selling her off to the highest bidder.

Ignoring that in favor of her options, Juliet busies herself with studying each garment, tilting her head curiously at items that she has never laid eyes on before. (Such as the overalls with short paints and whimsical daisies painted on them and bright rainbow sweaters.) Beyond that there is a whole assortment of shirts, pants, skirts, and jackets-- each of which display different prints, patterns, and colors. Rather than having a maximum of four to six shades to choose from, she has the whole rainbow at her fingertips. (In general, there are a lot of rainbows in this wardrobe.) Her heart races as she starts looking through the selection of short pants. (A bold and unacceptable choice back home, but evidently a popular one in Evermore. Here, surely no one will think her strange if she wears them.) With that in mind, she selects a dark blue pair that will have a slightly baggy fit even on her, with delicate white embroidered flowers aligning the pockets. With that decided, she moves on to the shirts with short sleeves. Mother always had strict rules about how much of her arms she was allowed to show when she left the house, insisting that no one wanted to see her frightening battle scars. In short sleeved gowns she'd be made to wear long opera gloves with laces and silks that'd always feel much too itchy and hot in the summer season. Based on the way her bare feet were received at the door, however, she decides not to concern herself with hiding them either. (Of all the things anyone could ask Juliet about her life, she actually doesn't mind discussing most of the scars on her skin. It's the ones underneath she has to be cautious of.) Recalling the various pictures on the walls and their meeting with Clover and Crimson, she opts to pick something with their styles in mind. (Namely-- shorts and a t-shirt.) She eventually decides on a light blue and white striped shirt, which feels very soft to the touch. When she drapes it over herself, she finds the fit will be large enough that the sleeves nearly reach her elbows, therefore covering up a most of her deepest scar.

Juliet is more relieved than she could express with words to freshen up in the bathroom. (The afternoon tour had been quite pleasant-- especially the food-- but she silently longed to change into something fresh since arriving.) She uses this time to take a brief shower, washing dirt and cuts on her feet before beginning the tedious process of combing her fingers through the tangles in her hair while it's wet. She also takes notice of the soap and how the sweet smell reminds her of Willow... which, of course, makes sense as this soap belongs to Willow. (Meaning she now smells like Willow James.) Blushing at this thought, she quickly towels herself off, ensuring that she's completely dry before shimmying back into her swimsuit. (...That is her only option for now, as she'd been too embarrassed to bring up the subject of fresh undergarments.) Then she pulls on the outfit she borrowed from Willow James's 'hovel'.

Wow. Unable to process at first, Juliet simply stares at her reflection in the mirror for a minute. She glances down at her legs, swishing herself to the right, then to the left. While she's had her theories, she's still in awe at how light and unconstrained she feels in them. Chewing her lip with concentration, she tucks her shirt in out of habit and then pulls it looser in certain places to emulate the lax style she had noticed in some of the portraits on the walls. It's different, yes, and will take some getting used to. But it's undeniably nice. In fact, she looks and feels so comfortable in these unfamiliar clothes that she hardly recognizes herself anymore. So much that she almost feels wrong for it, like those simple luxuries are somehow criminal. Like they're not meant for her.

Standing on the bathroom mat, it truly crashes into Juliet how unfathomable it all is. That there exists a world beyond her own where this sort of comfort is attainable and accepted. It strikes her that she is one of very few travelers from Folklore to experience this side and how rare it is for her to be standing there at all. She wonders if Willow experienced a similar feeling when she first arrived in Folklore. She's in uncharted territory now... and while that is terrifying, a feeling of excitement that was much more common in her childhood flutters in the pit of her stomach.

Once she's finished in the bathroom, Juliet curls up on the foot of Willow's bed (the same way Grace likes to curl up on the end of hers) and takes a nap at her suggestion. Despite all the excitement-- or perhaps because of it-- she's able to drift off instantly in the warm patch of sunlight streaming in through the window. They hadn't had the chance to sleep the night before and she's thankful for the opportunity to rest before meeting even more of Willow James's family. There are many names, faces, and details to remember. Crimson and comments about her name (her own disdain for the nickname 'Red' automatically prevents her from committing that insufferable offense-- she shouldn't have to worry about that), the unfunny uncle who she should not laugh at, and Leif's brownies.

Eventually Juliet wakes to a particularly loud scream... which, as she rubes the sleep from her eyes, then fades into the slightly less alarming hum of a substantial crowd gathered outside. (Just how many people have arrived for this dinner?) While it's evident by peering out the window that no one is screaming out of terror, she's still reluctant to leave her weapons behind. For her own peace of mind, she discreetly sneaks her sheathed dagger into one of the large front pockets of her short pants. Just to be safe.

While the amount of people gathered in the backyard is intimidating, the smell is certainly not. Juliet vows to brave anything for dinner as the aroma of sweet wood smoke wafts towards them. She can tell by the scent of mingled meats and veggies that there will be a wide assortment of foods, familiar and unknown, to sample and choose from. There's a pleasant, savory flavor in the mix that's somewhat reminiscent of vendors in the market square and in villages between the kingdoms. (It is very refreshing to attend an event meant for eating and actually eat. They had not been able to do so in Amoria or in Okeanos, aside from picking at the dessert tables like birds while prioritizing other things.) However, they are not able to sneak through the crowd unnoticed the way Willow James had hoped when a man approaches them. He is already calling her by name like a friend and has completely neglected to introduce himself.

"Yes, of course. I will continue watching out for her." Juliet concedes with a nod, noticing the blush on Willow's cheeks in her peripheral. Perhaps it's the nickname, or the way he speaks of her while she's standing there. While she considers mentioning that Willow is not necessarily the person she thinks of when she hears the word 'reckless', she also recalls the unexpected incident with the stone hydra and decides to hold her tongue. Even so, that's not to discredit her traveling companion. She's made noticeable progress since the first day. Her attention is swept from that topic when he proceeds to mention 'piling together a plate'... and then something about 'weird shit'? She blinks twice, perplexed by this. "Oh. All of the food smells wonderful."

And she's not just saying that. Juliet's enchantment is genuinely hard to mask, she sounds as if she'll get swept away from them by the smell alone. (She'd much rather have a list of the people she should avoid rather than the food. However, this is a thought she knows better than to voice. Willow hasn't warned her about anyone outside of the uncle (...this uncle's?) unfunny jokes and the people here appear much more expressive and relaxed than the nobles in the Folklore.) With food on the brain, it takes her a moment longer to realize that he asked her another question.

"It's nice." Is Juliet's brief but honest answer. (Except for their early encounter with the cars... and the dumbwaiter.) "Everyone has been very hospitable. We picked berries."

"Right, right! Clover mentioned seeing the two of ya out there. Nothin' like the berries here on Rhode Island lane." He nods sagely. Then a trace of amusement flickers through his eyes as he grins conspiratorially and gently nudges Willow in the side. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'm sure you'll get that soccer ball next time."

Juliet feels a patch of warmth emitting from her locket, the telltale sign that Grace is awake and will want to be let out soon. She closes her hand over it. Not yet. The fox is wary of crowds for various (valid) reasons. Not to mention that they're in Evermore now, where her favorite hiding places will be unaccessible. While the barn and the house were options, Juliet intends to be present for Grace's return to reassure her that everything is fine. That she is fine. Once that is done, she can see what her companion wants to do.

"You'll have to excuse me." Juliet says to Willow's uncle before turning to Willow herself. "It's Grace." She explains, observing their surroundings carefully before gesturing towards one of the few secluded spots in the bustling backyard. "I'll go over there to let her out. I just don't want to overwhelm her."

 

[starboob]

Ah. Of course. Willow should have known that the second she thought they could slip past her family’s radar would be the precise moment that all eyes would turn to them. Okay, so it’s only uncle Lennie’s eyes (right now), but she just knows it’s only a matter of time before her mom’s cousins and their kids all start crowding them and hounding them with questions. (She's particularly concerned about what they will ask Juliet. It's not that her family is mean or vicious, but she knows they can be overwhelming. In fact, overwhelming is probably an understatement and she has a sense that herself and Juliet operate similarly when it comes to social interaction. As in, they can both muscle through it, but it can be draining if not a drag. She'll buffer as much as she can, but she's not certain she can fend them all off.) She reckons that if her grandmas told uncle Lennie about Juliet then they might have told others. They probably did tell others. (Actually, she can see grandma Juniper chatting with auntie Holly right now, pointing proudly over at Juliet. 'Ah, cheese.') It also dawns on her that everyone here (at least the adults) might know that she ran away. ‘Mist. I’m gonna have to protect Juliet from the circuit.’ Already, the sorceress is devising a way for them to avoid the more tiresome family members–– like uncle Oakley, who probably hasn’t said anything interesting since his first word. She’s pretty sure if they––

Her cheeks are on fire once more when Lennie pokes fun at her miserable attempt trying to kick that soccer ball. (To be fair, it was a moving target… And, to be fair, Willow probably would have missed regardless.) “It was going really fast… for me…” She should have known that her family would never give her an inch of room to breathe just because she brought home a girl. Actually, she should have fully anticipated their deep seated desire to embarrass her because she brought a girl home. (But it’s not like Juliet and her are a thing. Juliet is literally just a girl she has brought home. She does happen to be tied to her thread, but that hasn’t manifested into anything! Why are they like this?) Ugh, they’re the worst. She missed them.

She can tell uncle Lennie is combing through his archive of embarrassing stories so she’s grateful when Juliet excuses herself, breathing an audible sigh of relief. (She is coming to realize that one or two days with her family is going to mean serious strategy in terms of making sure they don't share stories that are too embarrassing. She doesn't have a big reputation to uphold or anything–– like, Juliet has seen her cower before pretty much everything so far–– but still! She doesn't need to know about the brownie incident.) “Sure, sure. Take your time.”

“Pleasure meeting ya, Juliet.” Uncle Lennie grins, bowing as she leaves, and then he slinks his arm around Willow’s shoulder. “So you gonna tell me everything that’s been going on? Or are you going to leave your poor uncle guessing about your escapades, huh?" A lightbulb practically switches on above his head with his next suggestion. "You’re old enough to drink now, yeah? Let’s have a beer!”

Meanwhile, a few minutes after Juliet has departed and released the fox, another companion, this one a border collie with a blue merle coat, trots up to them. She takes an obvious interest in both newcomers, tilting her head curiously at the fox then looking up at the archer with her ice blue eyes. Her eyes seem to reflect the question, ‘Who are you?’ Though not in an unfriendly way. Again, she seems more curious than anything else. She lifts one paw, like she’s offering it to Juliet to shake.

Juliet isn’t left alone with this companion for too long as Crimson jogs up to the small group. “Tango! There you are.” She drops down to her haunches and scratches Tango behind her ears while the dog licks her chin and cheeks. From her current position, Crimson looks up at Juliet and offers her a polite smile. “This your first Yeong family gathering? Oh, wait, duh. You just got here.” She laughs breezily to herself and rises, running her fingers through her thick plum waves. “I’ll give you some pointers, because Willow’s way too nice to shit talk her own family or anyone, for that matter. Alright soo…” She hums thoughtfully, scanning the crowd for people to point out. “The most tedious of the uncles is easily uncle Oakley.” She points to an older man currently talking the ear off of one of the younger family members who looks entirely miserable. Then she points out the woman that grandma Juniper is talking to. “Auntie Holly means well, but she’s often got her foot in her mouth and will tell you exactly what's wrong with your life. I'd say she's a bitch, but she honestly is just cluelessly harsh." Next, she gestures to an old woman who is wearing a green knit cap with tufts of short, brightly dyed orange hair sticking out from under it. "You’re going to have to scream and repeat everything you say to auntie Clementine. I’d be wary of any of the uncles who are married into the family–– like uncle Kenny, Roger, and Dan. They’re so fucking annoying and have opinions on everything." The uncles she's mentioned must not be in view, because Crimson doesn't point them out as she has the other family members. "They are going to comment on your hair. Just ignore them or tell them they should seek help for the ferrets growing on their heads.” She’s referencing the odd popularity of toupees among the older uncles.

Crimson scans the crowd again then stands on her tippy toes, looking around to see if a particular face might remind her of something. She settles back down, satisfied, and returns her full attention to the other sider. “This should be the more chill part of the family, since the pretentious family members aren’t here. There’d be way less laughing and far more screaming if that were the case.” She chuckles and then looks down at Grace. Her eyes crease in a smile and, seeming to notice that the fox is rather shy, she offers, “If your companion would rather hide, Tango can show them some of Willow’s favorite hiding spots." Her tone then softens some as she seems to recall something. "Man, Willow used to hate these large parties–– she seriously must have found every hidden nook and cranny this place has to offer. We’d find her all curled up in a ball with Lucky, just waiting for things to calm down. There was this one time when she five–– so Clover and I must've been eleven–– where she actually hid herself so well, we thought she ran off. Gave everyone a huge scare. I remember Clover and I running through the field, screaming our heads off trying to find her. And when we did find her, she was tucked inside of the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink, empty plate of fudge in her lap, totally passed out. Her mom was livid.”

Of course, that version of Willow James must be long gone seeing as the sorceress is currently the life of the party (at the kid's table) showing off some simple magic tricks for her younger cousins. (Distantly, the kids can be heard screaming, “We wanna meet the dragon!" Then they start chanting,"Dragon! Dragon! Dragon!”)

At that moment, before Crimson can get too carried away, Clover bounds over to them with Foxtrot perched on her shoulder. “I scoped out the feast and we should hurry before the good-good is gone-gone. Where’s Leif?” Clover seems to belatedly realize that her partner is not alone and surprisedly turns to Juliet. She throws up a peace sign and nods her head. “Oh, hey. ‘Sup?”

“Sorry I’m late!” None other than Leif says, rounding the bend of the house. “I had to avoid, like, three million children and grandmas. Surprised I didn’t get caught. You ladies ready for my finest creation yet? Swear these ones are gonna knock you to the moon.” He grins then also belatedly notices Juliet and jumps a half step away at the realization. “Oh, you joining us? I’ve got plenty.” From behind his back he presents Juliet with a tupperware full of brownies that have fudgy frosting and rainbow unicorn sprinkles on top. They have a slightly funny smell to them, but it’s easily lost to the chocolate if one isn’t searching for a hint of skunk.

“Ohmygods, Leif, she probably doesn’t even know what these are!" Crimson punches his arm affectionately. "I hear that they shoot off your kneecaps in Folklore for being in possession of pot.”

“That’s probably not true.” Clover disagrees with no small amount of skepticism in her voice. “And if it were true, then that's all the more reason she should try them. Besides, it’s not dangerous or anything. Like, you can’t die from eating funny brownies.” Technically true, but Clover is omitting the reality that "funny" brownies can be unpleasant if one isn’t fully prepared for the experience or is generally resistant to mind altering substances.

“Okay, we’re not going to peer pressure her,” Leif clarifies, but he does turn to Juliet and assures her anyway. “They are safe and will definitely help you power through all the food laid out. It's like opening up your second, bottomless stomach.” Already Clover is reaching into the tupperware, fingers wiggling over the selection as she finds two brownies for herself and Crimson. She stuffs her piece into her mouth whole, giving her a rather squirrelish appearance with the real estate the sweet takes up in her cheeks. Crimson eats hers in a much more civilized manner, but it does go down quick, like she’s scared someone will see her (because maybe this isn’t something they should be doing). “Here,” Leif takes one out of the container and magicks the piece into a plastic bag. “You don't need to decide now. Just think on it and, uhh, maybe don’t mention this to Willow––”

“Don’t mention what to Willow?” Willow asks, standing behind the group and causing them all to jump in surprise. (Crimson almost chokes on her brownie as a result and Clover has to pat her back to assist.) Leif quickly disappears the tupperware and basically inhales his piece before the sorceress can see. All of them smile at her innocently with their hands behind their backs. Willow isn't any less suspicious and crosses her arms over her chest. “Actually, maybe I don’t want to know.” They were probably telling more embarrassing stories about her anyway and she doesn't need to know what Juliet now knows. (This is a lie and she will ask Juliet later so she knows how to handle damage control.) She turns to her companion. “Are you and Grace all good? Are you ready-edy for food? I got seats at the kids table, because the adults are just going to talk about taxes and laws and stuff.”