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

[ellarose]

Willow had said a couple of things about the brownies. That they would be described as 'special' and 'magical'... and also that she should not accept one under any circumstances. The bee had appeared shortly afterwards, distracting her before Juliet could bring herself to ask why. The question on her lips was quickly forgotten when they got distracted tasting a particularly round and fresh strawberry. Under these circumstances, however, she finds herself wondering once again. The descriptions she's given now still do very little to explain exactly what they are.

"It's not true." Juliet confirms Clover's statement. Possession of 'pot' is not a crime in Folklore. (What is pot? Unless they're discussing the object variant of pots that are either kept in kitchens or house flowers then she hasn't a clue. She can wager a few guesses, however. It may be something similar to Millicent's fantasy shrooms... perhaps just less potent if they're being eaten during a family gathering. Or perhaps something especially potent helps to endure them? Heh. That is a good idea. She'll have to try it if anyone tries throwing her another unnecessary engagement party.) Amusement glimmers in her eyes when she thinks about some of the absurd laws throughout the different kingdoms. "...Although they do chop off the legs of anyone in possession of frog legs in one of the western kingdoms. The law was issued after the crown prince was turned into a frog."

That's all the more reason why she should try them. When Clover describes them as funny, Juliet decides without asking that that's most likely what it is. It's something that might make her feel kind of funny. It might loosen her up. While she might have doubted just how safe they were if it was only Leif offering, the sight of Clover and Crimson wolfing their own brownies down is what convinces her to stash the one she'd been given into the other pocket of her short pants. (A baked good in one pocket and a knife in the other... no matter what world she's in, Juliet August is still Juliet August.) Willow James has repeatedly proven herself to be a careful person. She did not want to drink the night of the banquet as not to write any messy exes. (Oh, no, to her exes. She clarified this.) With that in mind, she understands why she was warned. However, she decides to open herself up to the option of eating it later if curiosity gets ahold of her... she'll observe Leif, Clover and Crimson to see how it affects them.

While the others jump, Juliet is completely unfazed when Willow James approaches them. (The reaction she inspires among her family tells her that she is indeed improving in regards to stealth and sneak attacks. They will have to work on her aim a little more, though, when she considers the 'soccer ball' incident.) She notes the casual use of magic-- the way Leif had gifted her with the brownie in the little bag, the way he disappears them all just as quickly. (While she is accustomed to seeing casual magic of all kinds thanks to Millicent, it is unusual to see such a large group use it so freely.) The royals will sometimes entertain their guests with their gifts... but no one dares to try to cast themselves lest they upstage their hosts and be branded a witch.

"We were discussing executions in Folklore." Juliet mentions casually, tilting her head at Grace to see whether or not she is 'all good'. "...And your favorite hiding places. But I think that Grace would prefer to stay at my side for now." The fox dips her head down as if to nod in agreement, turning herself small enough to comfortably perch on her shoulder like a little bird. (She used to do this often when Juliet was a little girl. The archer brushes her hair around her shoulders to create a curtain that keeps her hidden from view.) The offer was kind, but Grace would only worry while she's out of sight. And the last time she left Juliet alone in a crowd of unfamiliar people... well, regardless of that, she knows that this will help her companion feel better. She nods appreciatively at Crimson and then at Tango. "Thank you for offering, though." More than that, she's grateful for the information and somewhat impressed by her boldness in regards to cursing and ferret-related insults.

When Willow turns to lead the way, Juliet might as well commit a magic act of her own with how fast and effortlessly she scarfs down her brownie. (In this heat, it will become a melted mess in her pocket before long. An experienced dessert thief like her knows this all too well.) She scoops her tongue around her lips and the inside of her mouth to be sure there's no incriminating chocolate on her teeth before following dutifully behind.

Juliet August is always ready-edy for food, even without the aid of magical brownies. Especially food that smells this good. While at first she organizes her food the way she'd been taught, into sections that don't touch. Observing others, however, she now sees what Willow James's uncle meant by 'piling together' a plate. Which is to say that many of the plates contain piles of food. She decides then to toss all the order she'd ever been taught aside, taking a modest portion of just about everything she sees until she runs out of room on her plate. (Thanks to the magic they're imbued with, though, nothing falls off.) She even scoops up a few of the tiny trees she used to throw at Lavinia Laurence in part to avoid eating them. (These ones are different, laced in a sweet-smelling sauce of some sort.) Since seconds are recommended, she takes note of the foods she has yet to try so that she can make sure to come back for them. As they grab their utensils and napkins, Juliet asks Willow what it means if someone holds up two fingers at her. (The strange gesture Clover greeted her with.) The sorceress informs her that is called a 'peace sign'. To be honest, that doesn't explain much and she still does not understand.

Dinner at the kids table mostly starts with Juliet inhaling her food while Willow kindly introduces her to the few children who hadn't heard of her yet. (Though it seems almost everyone in attendance is already calling her by name, as if they've known her for more than a few seconds. That is with the sole exception of the old woman Crimson pointed out as 'auntie Clementine', who is now under the impression that her name is Julianne after mishearing it one too many times.) Out of the foods she's tried, the chicken on a stick is her favorite thus far. Both for taste and how practical it is. If she holds it at just the right angle, she can feed Gracie a few pieces. This leads to a child with particularly sharp eyes named Olive to exclaim that she has a fox in her hair, drawing their attention and a chorus of 'aws'. Poor Grace hides her face against her neck... and without her engagement, the children do what children do best and get distracted. Their conversation topic rapidly switches to an investigation regarding a lost toy car (ugh, cars) then to a dispute between the twins cheating during their game of 'hide and seek', and then questions about Folklore once Juliet is finished eating. (They ask easy questions. Such as whether or not there are bathrooms in Folklore, or if anyone she knows can touch the tip of their tongue to their nose.) They are rather impressed when she admits to knowing a real-life princess and most of the questions afterwards are about Princess Elise-- her favorite things, what she does for fun, and... whether or not she uses the bathroom. (She does not understand the one child's preoccupation with bathrooms.) Lastly, she tells them about her companion-- a pink axolotl named 'Peaches' who floats about in an enchanted bubble when she's not safely in her royal tank. Seeing their eyes sparkle at this, she knows Princess Elise would have liked dinner at the kid's table.

It's when Juliet's on her second plate that the kids mention setting up a game of baseball in the yard to replace their failed game of hide and seek. Relaxed enough by now, she's comfortable enough to ask what 'baseball' is. Considering their reaction, though... she very quickly wonders if she shouldn't have said anything when all of the children unanimously drop whatever it is they're holding and gape at her with wide-eyed shock.

"Wait. One. Sec. You mean there's no baseball in Folklore!?" One of the children, a little boy wearing a cap over their messy dark curls is particularly distressed at this news. So much so that their volume attracts attention from the nearby tables. Juliet blinks perplexedly, glancing from Willow to the children, and then shakes her head helplessly. The child sets their hands on their hips and turns an accusing gaze on Willow, lecturing her in the incredibly harmless way that a child lectures someone. "Willow James! How could you not tell Juliet about baseball!?"

This leads to a few of the kids yanking Leif over by the arm and demanding that he explain the entire sport of baseball to her. (Ah. It appears that this is the sport Willow James might have been referring to when she said that her brother 'went pro'.) While it sounds rather straightforward, one of the children insists they show her by playing a game. According to some of them, it is a travesty that she has never participated in or witnessed a baseball game. (A girl with glasses rolls her eyes and informs her that they're just being dramatic.) One of the smallest kids takes her by the hand and politely informs her that they will teach her, that it's very simple to learn, and she quickly puts together the fact that they mean for her to play in this game. While she hesitates at first, Juliet ultimately decides to give it a try. It's hard to say no to a bunch of children who so genuinely want to include her, even when the Willow tells her it's okay to refuse. She has Grace sit with the sorceress for the duration of the game after making sure that she would be fine with it.

It's clarified to Juliet by one of the older kids that the game they're actually playing is called wiffle ball and that these lightweight materials make it easier for the younger and less experienced kids to participate. Once she learns the appropriate stance and how to hold the bat, observing the kids on her team taking their turns... it quickly becomes evident that she can certainly play this game and play it well. Her aim and instincts make the ball an especially easy target. She strikes the first ball pitched her way with a satisfying 'crack' and it goes sailing far off into the field. There are some low whistles and cheers as she runs over the bases... and being as fast as she is, she earns the team their first 'home run'. Her cheeks blush, more so from the amount of attention this stirs than the running itself. She catches exclamations of 'Are you sure you've never played before?' and other comments in regards to her speed. Normally this might have been cause for her to resign from the game and seek out Willow... but tonight she's feeling rather relaxed. The casualness of the gathering helps, yes, but she thinks it may have something to do with the brownie and the beer Lennie offered her when she left the kids table for seconds. It dulls her senses just enough to shed a few layers of nerves.

Leif, Clover, and Crimson join in to even the adult-to-kid ratio and Juliet catches onto their cues-- while they're especially ruthless with each other, they also play in such a way that allows the little kids to experience their own victories during the game. (With the exception of the twins, who cheat enough to earn their competitive wrath.) When the archer scores her third 'home run' of the night, she flashes Willow and Grace a 'peace sign' across the field on a whim. (It's a bit silly. She still doesn't understand what it's supposed to mean.) Eventually the game concludes with her and Leif's team winning and he offers her what he calls a high five. (This evokes shock from the children around them who hear her admit her confusion about this as well. The girl with glasses smartly mentions that of course she wouldn't know, because the high five was invented at a baseball game after a home run only twelve years ago and reports of anyone visiting from Folklore stretch much, much farther back than that.) Regardless, it is only after Juliet is taught about high fives before she's able to return to Willow's side and take Grace back onto her shoulder.

The grass is cool and ticklish under Juliet's feet now that the sun has completely disappeared beyond the horizon. (Thankfully the temperature is not low enough for dew to form on the grass.) Crickets sing and the hum of conversation has calmed down quite a bit as well. The air feels refreshing against her bare arms and legs. Without really thinking about her expressions for once, she smiles at Willow.

"I've never done anything like that before." Juliet admits sheepishly, staring at the pretty floating lights overhead. "They held tournaments in Amoria... but only men and boys were allowed to compete. I tried sneak in once when I was eleven." And got caught immediately. She's still of the opinion that she could have taken all of the archery awards home with her. And perhaps the fencing and jousting, too, had she ever been given the chance to try. Either way, she's not exactly sure why she's sharing this all of a sudden. She tilts her head when someone yips loudly about fireworks and some excitement is stirred back up among the kids.

"Fireworks? Should we..." Juliet starts to ask, but gets cut off when her stomach contributes to the conversation by growling. (Ah. Second bottomless stomach indeed.) Her cheeks flame red. It's unlike her to forget about dessert, but she tries to brush it aside. She's already eaten so much today. Willow James might begin to suspect that she thinks of nothing but food if she doesn't already. "Where's the second-best place to watch them from?"

 

[starboob]

Willow has never considered Juliet in Evermore. Well, she has, in this vague way where she loosely thought about the places the other sider might enjoy but she never specifically imagined Juliet in Evermore. Yet seeing her here, it’s like this is where she belongs. Even before she had changed into borrowed clothes, Evermore’s environment just seemed to welcome her. (Willow is still processing the fact that she’s basically touching Juliet because Juliet is wearing her (stolen) clothes and she’s worn those (stolen) clothes before. It’s like touching through osmosis or something.) In a similar vein, a part of her feels like she has seen Juliet in Evermore before. It’s a distant feeling and familiar nonetheless. (Maybe a smidge like déjà vu?) She can’t place it exactly, whether it’s an old feeling or a new one, but it persists the longer she observes Juliet from her seat at the kids table.

‘It’s probably just because she looks more relaxed here.’ That must be it, she concludes, because the archer truly does seem to be enjoying herself and, honestly? She’s certainly earned it. They both have after their most recent success in Okeanos, so this is kind of like their way of celebrating that victory. (Kind of, but not really. Willow James will be doing something to make their celebration more commemorative and that something will be just for them. Not a conveniently timed barbecue featuring nearly her entire extended family. But at least the archer is being well-fed. If the piles of food on her plate were any indication, she’s certainly enjoying herself too.)

Though Willow usually always cheers for both teams— never wanting to pick sides and hurt her younger cousins’ feelings— she is cheering the loudest for the archer and blushing like a geek as she does so. That blush only deepens when Juliet throws up a peace sign in their direction after her third home run of the night. She turns her head to the side just a bit to whisper to the fox. “Wow. Juliet is fast, isn’t she?” Grace doesn’t respond in any way that Willow can understand, but she doesn’t mind just talking to herself and continues to make these small comments about the archer throughout the game. (It’s also very touching that Grace is comfortable enough with her to be left by her side while Juliet cracks home runs like it’s easy. She still remembers how the fox only reluctantly sniffed her hand when they first met. Though Lucky is not currently present— they’re flying with some of the bird companions— she can feel their envy.)

While she thinks that her gushing is a secret between herself and Grace, uncle Lennie naturally plops down right next to Willow with a wide grin stretched across his lips. He drags his fingers through his graying locs, sweeping them over to one side before he nudges her with no small amount of amusement in his brown eyes. “I spy with my little eye, someone who is developing a severe case of the lovebug.” He laughs to himself while Willow’s cheeks deepen in color, part of her wanting to explain and the other part wanting to keep their thread a secret. (Outside of Zander, no one else knows about it and she isn’t sure how Juliet would prefer to make the announcement. Thread announcements are kind of a big deal in Evermore.)

In any case, she’s not left sitting in her embarrassment for long as uncle Lennie gets up, ruffles her hair and clarifies, “I’m just teasing ya, kiddo. You make sure mine don’t make any of the little ones cry, alright?” He finishes, gesturing with his chin towards the game, specifically singling out Clover and Crimson, then he continues on his rounds of idle chatter and joking. Once he’s gone, Willow notices that he leaves behind an unopened can of disgusting juice (beer) and knows that he is once again trying to get her to loosen up. (She rejected his earlier offer, wanting to make sure she could stay present enough to help Juliet navigate her family.) She pulls her lips to the side as she considers this, then reaches for the can and cracks open a cold one with the fox. Considering how much food is currently pressing against her ribs, she figures there is a low risk of getting tuned.

It's as she's downing the beer that the archer returns with a wide beam on her face. In the background, Willow swears she can hear a cheesy romance number playing as a pink heart filter rolls across her vision at the sight. She spills the last few sips all over herself, completely arrested by the dang sun. ‘She’s got a smile that could light up this whole town.’ Completely stupefied, she almost misses what Juliet is sharing and has to fight to pull herself together enough to catch the last bit. She reaches to grab a couple of napkins to wipe the beer from her chin and shirt, setting down the empty can. “I have no doubt you would have smoked the competition,” she nods sagely. “That’s probably why you weren’t allowed to join. But you can count on being included in games here from here on out.” She juts her chin towards Crimson and Clover who are engrossed in conversation, probably talking about how quick Juliet is based on their gestures. “I think you’ve earned their respect by beating them. They really do like someone who is on their level.” Willow distinctly isn’t and has never been. As a result she was often excluded from their games as kids, but, not being much for competition herself, she hadn’t really minded. Especially after she and Meredith solidified their friendship and could ditch the sportos to laze by the lake or hunt salamanders by the creek.

Then, when Juliet asks about the second best place to watch the fireworks, she knits her brow together in confusion. She almost asks what she means, but then remembers she asked Juliet a similar question their first night together. Except she had meant it as a means to flirt. To suggest she had already seen the best view Amoria had to offer. (Juliet.) Realizing the archer never caught on, she almost wants to roll her eyes and laugh, because it’s just so typical of the gays to be clueless. Instead, she settles on a grins and says nothing of the miscommunication. “Well, my room would have the second best view since it’s separated from the show. Part of the experience is being up close and personal with everything. Soo, the first best view is right here and I think you’ll enjoy it if we stay outside.”

And, upon hearing the archer’s stomach growl, she does actually laugh this time, because that really is typical of Juliet August. She puts her hand on Juliet’s shoulder and assures, “The big dessert I want you to try will be served just after the show. Think your stomach can wait that long?”

With the children getting antsier and antsier for the fireworks to start, the family begins to clear away the field. The two tables that had been set up for dinner are merged back into one and then magicked back into the dining room inside. The benches are kept out for seating, but some families and cousin clusters summon blankets to lay out on the grass. Leif does a quick check on the farm animals to make sure they’re all in the barn, then grandma Elva casts a charm over the barn that will dull the sound of fireworks. Companions are also welcome to hide out there, but auntie Clementine hobbles through the crowd with earmuffs for companions and family alike. “Julianne!” She exclaims when she reaches the pair, shifting the basket of earmuffs over to one hip. “I hope you are enjoying yourself. Would you or your companion like some earmuffs? It’s about to get explosive, like uncle Earl after a gas station tuna salad.” (Willow wants to die. Why can't her family be normal?)

Once that matter is settled, Willow pulls them over to join Leif, Clover, and Crimson on one of the blankets. Tango and Foxtrot are also with them and she guesses that Wilco is in the barn with Lucky. (Lucky is only in the barn because they get way too excited around fireworks and are always tempted to start a fire. Wilco, on the other hand, is a scaredy warthog.) As everyone else settles, the group takes turns explaining the firework show to Juliet and the reason for the fanfare (beyond fireworks just being fun).

“So we’re all mostly casters,” Willow starts, “and we each take turns using our magic to create fireworks.”

“It used to be a competition,” Clover notes bitterly. Before she can continue to explain why it isn’t, Leif interrupts, “But now we just do it for fun. For the joy of making our loved ones smile and laugh, right, Clovis?”

Clover glares at Leif and hisses, “Leif me alone.”

Crimson snickers, earning her a glare, but continues on like it's nothing. “It’s still fun even without the competitive aspect.” (“Is it though? Is it really?”) “The kids usually start since they aren’t as experienced and their casts are pretty standard. Then the adults go up.”

“There’s no turn taking system, whoever rushes up to the mound first goes next. I mean, we’re obviously not gonna shove our grannies or gramps out of the way, but I absolutely will shove Willow James out of the way if it comes down to it.” Leif nods, reaching over to muss her hair, just as uncle Lennie had earlier.

“It ends when everyone who wants to cast has gone.” Willow finishes, fixing her hair and scrunching her nose in annoyance at Leif. She then props herself up on her hands and leans over to whisper to Juliet. “You don’t have to participate. No one will force you and there’s no reason to explain your toasty-toasty tendencies if you don’t want to explain.”

Shortly after Juliet is given this context, the show begins and, just as Crimson said, the younger cousins go up first. It starts with Poppy, the little girl with glasses, who uses a stencil to help her trace glyphs for smiley face and heart shaped fireworks. The twins barrel up next and their display mostly focuses on creating the biggest and loudest booms, all substances and no style. This only encourages the rest of the kids to try to outdo the twins, though a few kids aren’t able to create more than some sparks and return to their seats with sunk shoulders. Everyone cheers for them anyway, offering them words of encouragement. Though there is one particularly teary cousin and Willow excuses herself to go talk to them. (She knows the feeling all too well.)

Meanwhile, the show is soon handed over to the adults with uncle Lennie starting them off. He pulls out a wand from his back pocket and casts a few fireworks that burst with multi-colored sparks. As those sparks spread across the sky like dandelion seeds, they glitch and turn into sparking rockets that swirl as they go down into the crowd, chasing the kids around before eventually dissolving. (Clover kicks one away from their blanket, aiming it back at her dad with a wicked grin.) After a few turns, it becomes obvious that this is a near standard element for the adults, though there are slight variations–– for example, not everyone uses rockets or has their secondary element chase people around. Some turn the secondary element into miniature version of their companions that run around the groups in the audience; some just turn their secondaries into mini-fireworks. (The rockets, however, are a favorite. Mainly because the kids react so enthusiastically to them.)

When Leif takes his turn, his fireworks start off shaped like a ganja leaf (this earns him a harsh, "Leif!" from the grandmas) and his sparks glitch to red and zip in zig zags around everyone, moving so fast it looks like there's red streaks in the air. When he sits back down on the blanket he grins at Juliet. "That was to commemorate our teamwork. You were the red dots, 'cause you're so quick." Crimson and Clover follow, putting together their skills to create secondary sparks that turn into to a bear and tiger cubs that wrestle with each other. (Leif explains this is an homage to their grandmas.)

Willow returns just as Juniper and Elva's secondaries finish their ballroom dance, sliding in to take her seat next to Juliet. A few more cousins go up, some of the younger kids try again, and then uncle Lennie does a very pointed last call that Willow is dutifully ignoring. (Mostly, he's just staring directly at her as he asks if anyone else would like to go.) Don't get it twisted–– she's only not going because she wants this to be over sooner so that Juliet can finally try the special family dessert. It's definitely not because she's trying to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation where she chokes and can't cast. Haha. That would be ridiculous and totally not like Willow James, champion of love.

Just as she opens her mouth to suggest dessert, Clover nudges her leg with her foot. “Ayo, what about you, Wills? You have to go up.” (Her cousin isn’t even trying to encourage her in a meaningful way. This is one hundred percent for her secret scoring system and, never one to take an easy victory, she will always demand full participation of those she deems competition.) “No way you’re beating me this year–– we fucking killed our fireworks.”

“Oh… I don’t think––”

“Of course Wills is going up,” Leif interjects, wrapping his massive arm around her shoulder as he pulls her up from her spot next to Juliet. She looks helplessly over her shoulder at her companion, but she knows this is a lost cause. Even if Juliet came in for the assist... she's still outnumbered and Willow James may or may not easily give into peer pressure. “She wouldn’t ever miss a family firework show. That would be just weird.”

“Willow! Willow! Willow!” All three of them start whisper cheering her name, watching with delighted eyes as her thin resolve breaks. The sorceress covers her face with her hands as the three of them then shepherd her to the mound, patting her on the back as they run back to the blanket. ‘Duck. No getting out of this?’ When she looks pleadingly at her brother for an out, he just grins and shoots her a double thumbs up. No, there’s no way he missed her silent cry for help and she suspects this is one of those, “It’ll be good for you, Willow James,” moments. ‘I ducking hate these moments.’

She blows out a raspberry and turns to face the audience of her family and Juliet. ‘This is fine.’ Juliet already knows she can cast. She’s seen her cast a few times. Sort of. ‘Don’t think about the fact that Juliet is out there.’ Without hesitation, she starts to focus solely on the fact that Juliet is sitting out there in the audience waiting, along with everyone else. Everyone else isn’t a big deal, because they’re family. Juliet, on the other hand, is someone who she actually wants to impress. Then again, Juliet has already seen her fail miserably at many things–– defeating ogres, taking on trolls, wielding a sword, sneak attacks, defending against Lightless, staying out of trouble, kicking soccer balls, teleporting them to the garden of glory, etc. etc. In the grand scheme of things, she’s seen her fail quite a lot. Even so, magic is supposed to be the one area where she excels. Something that has come to her naturally. Something she has worked tirelessly to perfect. Something she knows will help her shine as a heroine of love. That's a lot to shoulder and she can't afford to duck this up. That'll only prove she's deadweight.

Resigned with this knowledge, she summons her staff, takes a deep breath and holds it. 'Just keep it simple.' She circles her staff through the air, gathering light around the stone that turns into crackles and sparks. As these sparks begin to jump up and down her staff, she launches them into the sky. These initial fireworks are all launched in rapidfire succession so that when they explode, there is not a quiet or dark moment between each boom. The entire sky is lit up with a rainbow of colors against a backdrop of smoke and her secondary sparks keep it going with a mix of spark showers and mini-fireworks. Just as the embers from the secondary sparks begin to glitter away, they're suddenly pull together, moving around erratically as they form into a tight orb. This orb rearranges itself into a dragon (surprise, surprise) that flies around the smokey sky and breathes out one last blast of fireworks–– complete with rockets to chase the kids.

Before anyone can make comments, she rushes over to the blanket, heart hammering, and asks Juliet, "I believe you were promised dessert?"

 

[ellarose]

Fireworks. Unlike baseball games, firework displays are indeed something that Juliet has seen in Folklore. However, she can count on one hand the number of times she's been able to watch them-- which is exactly four going on five. The first was with Lara, after they traveled through a small village during their harvest festival. They watched from a distance, at their camping spot up in the mountains, while snacking on spiced pumpkin bread they'd been gifted. (From there, surrounded by luminescent flowers and silvery moonlight, the insects' singing was even louder than the explosions from afar.) The second was from one of the very few times she traveled with father while he was on a business trip, in one of the bustling cities of spades, where everything was dazzling and bright and loud. The third was when Millicent... casted them... or something like them. (They flashed and made noise. But to be honest, Juliet doesn't know if what Millicent did that evening counts as legitimate 'fireworks'. Mostly because the lights summoned a monstrous eyeball with wings that Millie then proceeded to scold and chase out of the cottage with a broom.) The fourth was in the kingdom of Amoria, when everyone celebrated Princess Elise's seventeenth birthday. While she'd asked for them every birthday, it took years to convince the queen. (Juliet assumed that Queen Viviane shared her mother's opinion, who had warily watched the fireworks in the city alongside her and her father in the city-- deeming them too bombastic, crowd-attracting, and noisy for her tastes.) In the end, though, the princess ended up disappearing to hide after they started. To this day, she still doesn't know the reason why.

As Willow, Clover, Crimson and Leif explain the upcoming firework show to her, Juliet gauges that these fireworks will claim their own unique place among the ones from her memories. It takes a bit of finagling to secure the set of the earmuffs she'd been offered for Grace over her pointed ears. Having a sense for what's coming, the fox keeps herself pressed as closely to her side as possible as they settle themselves down on the blanket. (While the barn is also an option, she knows that her companion will spend any time apart worrying more about her than any noise that could possibly be made.) She idly strokes her companion behind the ears, considering the family's casting and the way that everyone is given a turn. It's different. But she supposes that's the way things are here.

No amount of explanation could fully prepare Juliet for this fireworks display. Without meaning to, she takes an interest in the different shapes, patterns, and in some cases sounds the personal displays make. She notices the way each person casts says something about them. 'You can count on being included in games here from here on out.' There's a place for everyone to participate here, regardless of their age or gender. (In fact, they're encouraged to do so.) While Willow's exit briefly distracts her, the archer is quickly swept back into the display when the man from earlier creates a flashy display that chases the children around the backyard. Millicent would like this, she thinks as they scream. (The screams, yes, but also the casting. It crosses her mind that it might make her happy, to have people with more than 'toasty-toasty' level casting skills around.) Folklore isn't like this, though. Being among people, trusting people... it had only ever led her to heartache. Grace startles a bit at the rocket charging towards them, deflating with visible relief when Clover redirects it. Juliet gathers the fox into her lap and holds her close.

Juliet's vision becomes unfocused as her thoughts meander towards Folklore, blurring all the surrounding lights and sounds. Safe in her arms, Grace relaxes and thoughtfully watches the sparkling companion secondaries running through the groups.

Then the sky turns red. Juliet is brought back to present moment as Leif explains the symbolism of his display to her. "I see." She nods, her brown eyes inquisitive. Sort of, anyway. Focusing on the vague feeling of the blades of grass poking at her through the blanket, on the softness of Grace in her arms, the sky gradually shifts back into focus. Remnants of red smoke still drifts down among the clouds. (Because she's so quick. Although she can admit that he was quick, too, to think of such a clever trick.) "Cool." She believes she's using this word correctly. Apparently, the word 'cool' in Evermore is not only related to temperature, but it is on par with 'impressive' or 'great'. Much like how the word duck is not exclusive to ducks and can also be used as a form of profanity. (Although the term fuck has also been used here and there-- albeit not around the children. Much like games and fireworks, it seems that everyone is allowed to claim swears that Juliet was told were exclusive for uncultured sailors. Ah. No, she's not going to think about that anymore.) Thankfully, the sight of the wrestling cubs in the sky alongside Leif's explanation reel her back in before her mind can wander away from her again.

Once Willow returns, Juliet's confident she'll be able to anchor herself again. (She doesn't let her guard down when they're together. It's instinctual by now-- even if they're not in Folklore, even if she doesn't have to use the knife in her pocket.) But as soon as she comes, it seems, she's being led to the front. Willow looks back at her, but it becomes quickly evident that there's nothing she can do. They're all very eager... and it's only fireworks. ('Only fireworks'. Even so, she recalls the crying child from before and the way that Willow had gone after them. When she sees that same child now, she also notes that they're smiling and playing again as if nothing had happened.) Whatever happens, she believes the sorceress will be fine.

Or perhaps more than fine. Juliet doesn't know why she's holding her breath.Then heavens themselves open and swirl around overhead when the rainbow-colored sparks fly. (This choice reminds her of all the rainbows in her closet.) The lights flicker and sizzle, dazzling everyone below in their enchanting light. From the moment Willow lifts her staff, the magic captivates everyone present to witness it. She can't help wearing a small smile when the final glimmers form a fire-breathing dragon. (Even if she didn't know Willow James was the one creating these fireworks, she would know Willow James was the one creating these fireworks. It reminds her of the closet yet again, the dragons that adorned a great many of the clothes within.)

While the children are already screaming and cheering thanks to the rockets, the finishing display earns whoops, whistles and applause from everyone else. (Juliet offers applause of her own, out of more than just politeness.) There's excited talk of it being a 'grand finale'-- and before the archer can overhear any more commentary, Willow James is at her side again. And she's bringing up dessert. Juliet August does not need to hesitate.

***​

The yellow of the kitchen lights are soft and quiet at night. The sounds coming from outside are muffled from the house and Juliet appreciates the calm atmosphere. The family members are hugging goodbye and parents carry their sleepy children off to their... cars. It almost feels like a lifetime since she chased one down the road. However, the thought of them still make her want to reach for her knife. It had taken a bit of a journey for them to make it to the kitchen-- many of Willow's family members wanted to say goodnight and congratulate Willow on her display. Juliet also found herself offering to help with the cleanup-- only to quickly be told that as a guest, she shouldn't worry about it. At the time, she failed to notice the knowing wink that Juniper offered Willow. After such an eventful evening, it's just them for a moment. While the evening itself was actually quite nice... this is nice, too.

There's a clatter of dishes, a sweet aroma, and when Juliet looks in front of her she sees the dessert. Or...?

"...Baseballs?" Juliet asks confusedly, tilting her head to the side. (She grabs one after Willow clarifies that, no, they are not baseballs. They are just made to resemble baseballs. She supposes this is another instance of duality-- where baseballs can be baseballs or be dessert.) Her stomach growls, encouraging her to take a bite rather than proceed with her usual observations. It's soft, her teeth sinking through layers of sweet dough and berries. Her brown eyes light up like fireworks. Her next bite is bigger, as is the one after that, and before long she devours the entire thing. It's delicious. "Can I have another one?" Then she nods resolutely at the plate. A dessert this tasty deserves to have a tribute of its own. "If I could cast fireworks, I think I would model them after these. And Grace." Grace glances up at her dubiously. (Knowing Juliet, the fireworks would set an actual fire.) Speaking of fire...

"Your dragon was incredible. I've never seen anyone cast like that before." Juliet blushes, believing she said something somewhat similar before. She may just be restating her endless awe of this place... but it's worth commenting on what she just witnessed. It was incredible. With her own skills being so toasty toasty, fireworks that look like anything at all are a distant dream compared to what Willow James is capable of.

Before Juliet can think to say anything more on the subject, though, Leif pokes his head in the kitchen. "I'm heading to Wilco's! You two want anything?"

 

[starboob]

Alone at last. Willow breathes a metaphoric sigh when they finally manage to exit the farewell train and enter the kitchen, filled with the sweet aroma of berry baseballs blasts. (Leif designed and named this particular dessert, unsurprisingly.) Her cheeks are still pink from receiving all that attention outside, all those family members complimenting the finale she put together, but rather than feel a glow of pride, she more so is left bewildered. ‘It was just…’ Just her family being nice and encouraging as they always are. (“Quit filling her head! You bats keep telling these kids they’re special and—” “Wesley. I recommend you reconsider whatever it is about you’re about to say next and go cool off.”) Even if she knows they don’t make habits of lying for the benefit of others, she can’t help but think their encouragement is just a little too encouraging. Though she does trust Clover’s praise. Crimson’s as well. They’ve openly told her she sucks before. (It hurt back then, yes, but the wound has long since healed.) She supposes she trusts her brother and grandmas as well… And the more she thinks about it, she realizes it’s not that she doesn’t trust her family's ability to assess her skills. It’s the same issue as it always is— being enough. An indeterminate quantity that only she knows how to measure and, so far, she’s never measured up.

Watching Juliet wolf down the berry baseball blasts helps take her mind off of everything, delighted that she was right to assume that her companion would enjoy the dessert. Of course, she reasons there are probably few desserts that Juliet would realistically object to. Her food standards only seem to be, “needs to taste good,” and while that is rather typical, it really does seem like she’ll eat anything. (This does make her curious about Dimitri’s flaky rings of death that Juliet once mentioned to her.) “Eat as many as you like. They’re only fresh and warm once.” Technically, she supposes they can be reheated in the microwave or with magic, but even with magic, nothing beats a truly, truly fresh pastry. Even magic has its limits.

She laughs when the archer mentions how she would pay tribute to this dessert as well as Grace if she ever cast fireworks of her own. ‘She’s going to get along so well with Leif.’ That thought warms her. Even if she’s not purposefully trying to get ahead of herself by imagining Juliet’s dynamics with her family, she can’t help herself having already seen how well she fits in. (Grandma Juniper won’t stop winking and nudging and Willow finds herself increasingly grateful that Juliet seems to be oblivious to all of this.)

Looking around the kitchen, tracking where her grandmas are outside, Willow leans in conspiratorially over the counter and breaks two Rhode Island rules. (No magic in the kitchen and nothing explosive inside.) She circles a finger in the air and creates bursts of miniature fireworks that mimic the dessert then explode into teeny-tiny Graces that all run around Grace. “Like that?”

Though the sorceress immediately goes quiet when Juliet praises her firework display earlier. Her cheeks flush and she tears her gaze away from the archer, only nodding in response. ‘It’s just ‘cause she only knows one other caster.’ The mean part of herself continues to stamp out the glow of praise before it can ever truly shine. Before she can get caught up in her head or fight with that mean inner voice, Leif unknowingly saves her. (His timing with these things is impeccable and she almost wonders if it's their sibling telepathy.) Her eyes glow at the mention of Wilco’s and they flicker over to Juliet, mind racing as she tries to think of what Juliet won’t like. “Get us the works, Leif.” She summons her wallet and then tosses it over to her brother. (She horrendously overshoots by aiming it too far to the left, though Leif reaches and catches it regardless.) “Pretty please.”

Not too long after Leif departs, the pair head back up to Willow’s bedroom and she begins to set up their floor bed. Without really thinking about it, she also begins to arrange the set up so that they’ll be sleeping under a blanket fort (practically speaking, the blanket fort will be nice since the sun rises so early in the summer). As she’s reaching for a high hanging hook, ready to pull out her desk chair for the assist, Juliet grabs the knotted end of the blanket and arranges it for her. This causes her to blush profusely, for no reason other than that Juliet is helping her. (A low bar, she knows.)

Though eager for the donuts and committed to waiting, the duo fall asleep under the blanket fort before Leif returns, completely spent from their marathon of a day. Willow doesn’t even remember falling asleep when she wakes up. All she knows is that it’s no longer nighttime and the sun is back in the sky. Summer's warmth begins to creep into her room as she lifts herself into an upright position, yawning, and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She looks back at the sleeping archer, temptation telling her she should grab her polaroid and immortalize the moment and reason telling her that that’s a bit invasive. As quietly as she can manage, she gets up and heads downstairs.

The house is quiet (for now) and the bottom level is full of breakfast smells— coffee and silog, specifically. She confirms this when she enters the kitchen and finds auntie Barbie frying eggs, rice, and an assortment of sweet meats while sipping on some coffee. She greets her auntie just as Lucky swoops into the kitchen and perches on Willow’s shoulder. Without looking, Barbie tosses Lucky a slice of tocino and the dragon trills with delight. (This is why Lucky likes auntie Barbie the best. She’s always feeding them.)

While most of her mom’s cousins left last night, the aunties and uncle stayed the night and soon filter down from upstairs, filling the house with life again. Breakfast isn’t communal, with everyone grabbing plates and settling wherever they feel comfortable, so when Juliet does finally make an appearance they’re able to sit in the surprisingly quiet dining room. (Most of the adult-adults are out on the porch or in the kitchen.) Not only do they have a silog breakfast to eat, but there are also the donuts from Wilco’s waiting for them in a pink box on the table. Willow eagerly has Juliet take bites of each donut— everything from the cinnamon twists, griffon claws, and apple fritters to the raised, cake, and old fashion donuts. She takes careful mental notes of the ones Juliet likes best and imagines a harmless daydream of herself surprising her with morning donuts when they’re all grown up and living in the city.

As they eat breakfast Willow goes over her thoughts for the day. “We need to get you clothes— even if we’re not staying long, you should feel yourself while you’re here.” She nods resolutely at this, knowing how out of place she felt in Folklore in her Evermore clothes and the later importance of making sure her Folklore style fit her personality. Of course, she’s still working on her Folklore style, having only been able to skim (steal) from one wardrobe. “Since we’ll be in town, we can go to Red’s Diner for lunch. Then we can probably come back here to chill for a bit and tonight is the opening night for the fair. The first night is for locals only, so it won’t be as crowded, and there will be rides, games, and food.” She makes sure to explain that all the food there is either going to be fried, on a stick, or both. “Oh, and more fireworks, of course, but nothing like last night. Just normie ones.”

Having finished getting ready, Willow informs Juliet that they’ll need to take a car into town and mentions some of the laws around companions— mainly size and riding restrictions. Recalling how the archer almost shot Lucky out of the sky (okay, that’s not how it happened but that is what she had initially thought at the time) and how generally hypervigilant she is (see: the car chase of just yesterday), she also mentions that needlessly attacking a companion is a punishable offense. (In the worst cases, the offender will be severed from their own companion. Severed companions often become malevolent and take to the woods.) “You’ll also need to leave the weapons at home.” She chews on the inside of her cheek after mentioning this, knowing that she’s never really seen Juliet unarmed outside of last night. “I promise that everything in town is reasonably safe. But we can compromise. You can bring the weapons, but they need to stay in the trunk. If anything gets toast-toasty, I’ll summon them for you. Lickety split.”

Satisfied that she’s prepared her companion with everything she needs to know about Elsewhere, she wrestles with her car’s engine to start. It’s a boxy blue sedan she bought after high school and though she loves the car, it doesn’t always love her back. It finally starts after the third time she turns the key and as soon as the engine roars to life, the windshield displays a simple navigation system. Willow swipes it away, deciding that the thirty-minute drive into town is worth it since Juliet has never been to this side before. Ordinarily, however, she would use a Presto Road™ to at least get them to the edge of town before everything is restricted to driving.

As she takes them into town, she points out only the most important of landmarks, like the lone toilet sitting in the middle of a field for no discernable reason. “It burps out rainbows sometimes.” She also points out a white-glowing border around sections of the woods. “Those are safety boundaries for kids. The woods here are dangerous just as they are in Folklore, but the boundaries create zones for kids to explore.” Then, as they enter town, she points out Wilco’s (marked by the large purple donut floating over the establishment), the boardwalk where the fair will take place, the skatepark that came up in the labyrinth, and her high school. “I go to one of the universities now, but we probably won’t be around that area today.” This reminds her that she should check-in with Sawyer while they're here. She quietly deliberates the best way to warn Juliet about the weirdo wizard. ‘Well, she already knows Milfred. I probably don’t need to warn her.’

Willow starts by taking them to one of her favorite consignment shops in town, explaining that they have the best selection of statement pieces like flashy jackets and zany sweaters. She pulls a light blue knit sweater off of the rack that features a goose with a knife in its beak. “See. Pretty cool, huh?” They also hit up a few department stores since it would be rather disturbing (at least Willow thinks so) to purchase undergarments from a consignment shop. “I was also thinking… I’m not sure if we’ll have time today, but maybe it would be good to explore the woods here. At least seeking out one of the lakes to check on the bleeding— Mirror Lake is closest and was the first one affected, so I think it'd be a good start.” She shakes out a folded white t-shirt that, at first, is blank but then magics to show a cheesy design of a dragon dressed as a rapper with a silly pun underneath, ‘Spit fire!’ She tosses it to Juliet, curious to see what companion themed design will appear for her. “I don’t know that what grandma Elva told us is related to what’s going on in Folklore, but it won’t hurt to check. What do you think? About the shirt and the suggestion."

 

[ellarose]

"...So this goose is allowed to carry a knife into this establishment and I'm not?" Juliet asks with a mock-serious glare, tracing her fingertip along the embroidery on the sweater that Willow shows her. (While the archer agreed to pack her bow and arrows into the trunk, she still has her knife strapped to her upper thigh. What if she and Willow get separated? That said, she would never use it to harm a companion and is somewhat hurt by the inclination that she might. She knows all too well, what it's like to... no. That is where she draws a line. It's the people one truly needs to be wary of.) It's an interesting design. Outside of a few of the pieces in the sorceress's wardrobe yesterday, she's never seen anything like it before. Just as she's never seen anything like the inside of a car (ugh), the ominous toilet field, a skate park, or a high school. (Surprisingly, it is not a looming tower with ivy-wrapped spires that stretch into the clouds. That's how she initially envisioned it... perhaps she had thought the building would be quite tall and intimidating, being called a 'high' school.) And there's the donut shop, of course-- which is indeed a sight she will never forget. (Is the large donut hovering over the establishment edible? Has anyone ever climbed to the rooftop to test it? ...For whatever reason, she feels in her gut that it is Leif who she must ask about this.) She has also never seen the open shoes she has borrowed for the shopping trip, whimsically named flip-flops. They snap-snap against her heels while she walks and remind her of the wooden sandals commonly worn in some of the woodland and mountain villages-- though those made more of a clip-clop sound. (Elva had courteously brought the flip-flops down for her when she heard they'd be going into town, claiming they might be a little big but she would not have her out burning the soles of her feet out on the asphalt.) While Juliet appreciates the gesture, these shoes are not quite stealthy enough for her tastes. The same had been true for the vibrant red 'parachute pants' she had tried on purely out of curiosity. They swish-swished around her legs. (Admittedly, the pants initially seemed appealing when she imagined how many weapons she could conceal within them.) She wears the ghost of a smile to indicate that she's only teasing about the goose. "That's hardly fair."

With a full night's sleep, her delightful first donut experience, and a set of fresh (and comfortable) undergarments, Juliet August is in an agreeable mood. She's relieved that these shops are nothing like the ones mother would usher her into, having her stand before the mirror with her arms stretched out while the seamstress takes her measurements. (The last time she'd done that... forcing herself to stand still for the wedding dress fitting was the worst of all.) She gives her head a little shake to clear it. No. We'll have none of that today. It would be nice to stay in this agreeable mood. (How long has it been since she's been able to smile like this?) For as long as she's in Evermore, away from Folklore and all it's pressures, she is going to make an effort to keep her mind anchored to this new world she's been experiencing.

"We can do that. If there is no time to check today, we can stay a day longer." Juliet nods, the expression on her face a rare show of open curiosity while Willow unfolds the t-shirt and a design appears. (She wouldn't entirely mind staying a little longer.) However, Willow also has a perfectly sensible reason for wanting to investigate in the first place. If it is related to what is happening in Folklore, what is happening to her, then they're not ignoring their responsibilities in any form by staying a while longer to investigate the Mirror Lake. "It would be negligent on our part not to check if it's a concern."

Juliet catches the shirt, holding it up inquisitively as an adorable fox appears between two bolded words. 'For' and 'Sake'. Um. Forsake? While at first she does not completely understand what it means to say, her childlike wonder in regards to the fox design takes precedence. "...Look, Gracie. It's you." She tucks her hair out of the way, allowing the tiny fox on her shoulder to see the shirt. Her companion tilts her head to the side. She blinks once. Then she scuttles backward and hides her face behind her paws. Studying the shirt for a moment longer, the meaning becomes apparent when she includes the fox in the phrase. 'For fox sake.' She turns it around for Willow to see, holding it up against her chest, her brown eyes beaming with something equal parts amused and mischievous. The profanity makes it rather fun. "For fuck's sake. I like it." (A tiny sigh can be heard from Grace, who is huddled up against the crook of her neck.) Needless to say, that fox shirt is the first among a few different fox-themed items for Juliet to receive on this shopping trip. She finds a pair of fox socks (Willow says they're because they still have tags from another store, meaning they're still more or less new), fox-print pajama short-pants (or 'just shorts', as Willow seems to call them), and also an orange knit hat with precious, fox-shaped triangle ears on top. (It's not winter in Evermore, but Willow says that they have the winter season in Evermore as well. If they come back in the winter, Juliet says she will wear it then. It may be nice to wear underneath her hood in Folklore as well.)

Most of the winter clothes draw Juliet's attention first. The big sweaters, big coats, and scarves. However, noting the heat, they would not be very pleasant to wear in Evermore right now. She knows better than to build her hopes too highly on the prospect of future visits-- there's a possibility her first visit may also be her last. Gradually, upon passing a few people in the street, she gravitates towards all sorts of other options. In the end, she ends up with an ensemble consisting of her new fox shirt, her own pair of black 'just shorts', a red 'scrunchie' to hold her hair back into ponytail (her neck has been getting rather hot, with Gracie making it her perch), her fox-socks that peek out just a bit under her 'platform boots', which come with the benefit of making her even taller without being nearly as uncomfortable as the stilted shoes in Folklore. She also ends up getting a thin black jacket with two stripes (one red and one white) across the sleeves. She ties the sleeves around her waist as she has seen some other people in Evermore do. It's rather casual and she appreciates the practicality of it. (She also really wanted a jacket.) Willow seemed to notice and suggested that she pick one, mentioning there are situations where she still might get chilly in the summer. Although this may also be because she caught her trying one of her coats that morning out of curiosity while they were getting ready.

In Evermore, food appears at every turn. While Willow James told her about 'vending machines' before, Juliet is still stunned when she encounters one for the first time. Willow demonstrates while Juliet stands cautiously behind her, using some of the coins from their recent purchase to feed the machine before it bestows them with a bag of bright orange 'chips'. (So it's an exchange... and the beast enjoys the taste of coin enough to share chips, candy, breakfast bars... and drinks as well.) Juliet also nearly brandishes her knife when an 'ice cream monster' ('ice cream truck') rolls past them on the street, chirping an ominously cheery tune. She doesn't trust it. (She steels herself before she can surrender to the urge to wield her knife, but Willow James eyes her suspiciously anyway. Juliet needs to be careful not to take her knife out for no reason, lest it be taken away from her.) Willow suggests this is a sign they should go get some food and drives them to 'Red's Diner'.

When Juliet learns of the full strength of air conditioned air, she understands what Willow meant by chilly. The inside of the diner is cool enough (cool because of the temperature, but also cool in the delightful way due to the smell of sizzling food) that she decides to wear her new jacket with her arms inside the sleeves as they settle into one of the booths. She likes her jacket very much, calmed by the fact that it has a familiar hood that she can lift over her head at any time. Gracie can also hide inside of it whenever she feels shy. Of all the things about this establishment, Juliet finds that the name is the only thing she's unsure about. (Thankfully, though, no one has made any comments about her hair since the day before. After she told the man who spoke it that he ought to feed the ferret on his head, she did not hear any more of them.) She studies the salt and pepper shakers, as well as the oddly-shaped spire bottles at their table. Then she pokes the napkin dispenser, finding that her reflection looks rather odd in it. Then she notices someone at another booth fiddling with a metal box at their table... which they proceed to feed coins, just like the vending machine. Juliet tilts her head and notices that they have one of these boxes as well.

"So you appease these mechanical beasts with coin... and they don't harm anyone?" Juliet asks, genuinely curious as she experimentally flips the knob on the side. It turns pages of labels inside of it, each one displaying different phrases. There are some particularly odd ones-- like 'Rock Lobster', 'Video Killed the Radio Star' and 'Sunglasses at Night'. She scrunches her nose seeing titles such as 'The Power of Love' and 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'. There is also a pad with letters and numbers underneath, similarly to the vending machine. "Instead they appear to offer services. What does this one do?"

“...Delinquents, I’m tellin’ you Jenny. They left without paying— just dumped a shitload of candy on the table.” Briefly, Juliet is distracted when she overhears two of waitresses chatting as they walk by. Then she fixes her attention on the small machine again. (...Can they really summon a lobster with it?) An older waitress tells the two gossiping waitresses to get back to work before approaching their table with an easygoing smile, two menus, a hovering note-pad and pen with a wobbly red heart on the end.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

Juliet glances down at the menu in front of her, peering at the colorful pictures depicting a few different highlights. Unsure still what most of the names for drinks are (all she recognizes is water, lemonade and Cola) all she can do is point to one of the pictures of the drinks with a mountain of fluffy white cream and a cherry on top. “The pink one.”

“Strawberry milkshake.” The waitress nods, the heart on the end of her pen lighting up as it logs the order onto the notepad. (Juliet’s confident then that she made the right choice the moment she says 'strawberry'.) Then she glances at Willow. “And you?”

 

[starboob]

It can never be stated enough that Juliet August is quite funny— from her jokes about knife wielding geese to her suspicion with vending machines. Admittedly, Willow knows part of her amusement comes from the other woman's reactions to all the novelties that Evermore has to offer, being that she is an other sider in a strange world. (Having experienced this same shock herself, she thinks she's within her rights to be amused.) Like, she never really thought someone could find the charming lull of an ice cream truck (not monster) threatening, but then again Juliet August is Juliet August; she is as quick as Willow James is prepared. (Subtly, she’s been side-eyeing Juliet’s pocket and trying to determine whether or not she actually spotted the outline of a knife or not. She decides to not bring this up since the archer has proven less reactive after she receives an explanation. Though she still appears highly suspicious of everything, at least she is trying to hunt cars. Willow is satisfied with that.) Also, as someone who is a huge fan herself, she’s particularly endeared by Juliet’s appreciation of companion-themed clothing. (Willow herself is currently wearing an assortment of dragon themed jewelry with the dragon cuff on her ear, dragon ring on her finger, and dragon bracelet around her wrist. Not to mention the little lilac dragons she begged Meredith to paint on her white converse.) This reminds Willow that she should pull out the fox sweater she stole from… Actually, she doesn’t remember who she stole that from, but she knows she wouldn’t have bought it for herself. Cute as foxes are, Lucky has never been a fox and she would never betray Lucky by purchasing such a garment.

Anyway, seeing Juliet in clothes she’s picked out for herself, Willow has to actively make sure she’s not staring. Yes, the fox shirt is very adorable (and amusing) but everything else is… It’s just such a stark contrast from her Folklore look— beyond just the ocean of difference between fashion in the realms, the color scheme she’s gravitated towards is almost in direct contrast to what she’s seen her wear in Folklore. Save for the red. It seems that Juliet August is a fan of red no matter where she goes.

As she’s busying her eyes with a menu she’s read a thousand times before, Juliet asks her about the jukebox radio on their table. Wordlessly, she sets the menu down then leans up in the seat to fish through her pocket for some coins. (But not the ‘some coin’ that princess Elise gave to them.) Once she finds a quarter, she sticks it in the machine and punches in her favorite combination, the only song she ever plays when she’s here. Strawberry Fields Forever starts playing from the box. She taps her feet and sways to the beat without seeming entirely aware she’s moving at all. “Well, they aren’t beasts. They’re harmless, just like cars.” Well, cars with a responsible driver (like Willow) behind the wheel, but she doesn’t want to stress her companion out with the actual dangers of driving one ton death mobiles. “This one plays music when you give it a quarter.” She holds up the larger silver coin so that Juliet knows what coin she is referring to. “When we leave, I’ll show you the ones that give out candy and toys. We walked right by them.”

When Willow catches the conversation from the waitresses passing by, she gasps in shock. ‘How could anyone stiff Red’s?’ She makes a note to leave a really big tip as she would be devastated if this place ever shut down. It’s full of so many good memories— each booth here tells a story! Maybe not a Willow James story, but she’s sure she isn’t the only person who has good memories here. She’s very much offended that there are dastards out there stiffing Red’s. She’s so upset, she almost misses what Juliet orders. ‘Strawberry lady, heh.’

“Hey, Betty.” Willow smiles, brushing her offense to the side. (She doesn’t actually know this waitress, she’s not that much of a regular, but she can read name tags.) For herself, she decides to follow the archer’s lead and orders a Neapolitan milkshake (her favorite). She also orders them a basket of fries to start, explaining to Juliet that it’s worth trying fries and milkshakes together. After their milkshakes and fries come out and it’s time to order, Willow helps Juliet choose something and offers to go “splitsies” so that she can try a few different things. This results in them ordering chicken fingers (Willow clarifies these are not actual chicken fingers), a double bacon cheeseburger, a grilled cheese, and more fries. It goes without saying that the sorceress does let the archer try her milkshake as well as the chicken fingers and grilled cheese she ordered for herself. In fact, Willow, for the first time in her life, joins the ever elusive clean plate club thanks to Juliet.

Afterwards, with Juliet more or less set on clothes and now with a weird little alien buddy from the toy vending machines outside, she drives them into the busier parts of town, where the town starts to become the city. Again, just as when they were driving along the coast to make it inland, Willow tells Juliet all about the different landmarks. Like the seven spires that are the holy grounds for the seven. (“They’re mostly abandoned now. Not many people practice.”) And the book/pawn shop called Normal Oddities. (“The Normal twins run it. They’re quaint.”) In the distance, a faint pink glow layers over the horizon and Willow informs Juliet that that is from Foreverend, the capital of Evermore. (“It’s a small territory that connects the Whereabouts. Oh, right— as in Elsewhere, Somewhere, and Nowhere.”)

While happy to spend a day driving around the city, especially when her passenger is so freaking attractive (one could even say foxy if they were so bold or corny), this all has a purpose. She might take them the long way, but this is all a means to get them to one of the gravel lots at the edge of the woods. Save for the long abandoned jalopy that’s been sitting in the lot ever since Willow can remember, no other cars occupy the lot. “Guess it’s a good thing we brought your bow and arrows along.” She pops open the trunk for the archer to retrieve them while Lucky does little loop-de-loops, shrinking themself with each loop, until they are small enough to perch on Grace’s head.

Once Juliet is set up with her weapons, she leads them to the trailhead that reads, Mirror Lake, with an arrow pointing forward. The trailhead also has a notice over it alerting them that the lake is closed indefinitely and they could incur a fine if they're caught. “Gotta break the rules to make the rules.” She doesn’t know why she says this and she’s pink-cheeked from the impulse. ‘You’re all hopped up on donuts and milkshakes. You need to touch a vegetable soon.’

The woods in Elsewhere are similar to the wood that surrounds Amoria in that there doesn’t appear to be much magical life. The oak trees, old, scraggly, and covered in green moss, are quiet and stand still. The only things that cause them to shiver are the gentle breeze and the animals that jump or weave through the branches. As with yesterday, the air is sticky and hot, already causing Willow’s shirt to stick to her back. Branches snap under their feet— well, under Willow’s feet and when she realizes that she is once more making their position easier to spot, she starts to mind her step. Even if they are walking along a boundary protected trail, she supposes it never hurts to practice her stealth. (She is still very pleased she made Leif, Clover, and Crimson all jump the night before with her sneaky-sneaky feet. Though she also suspects they all had been up to no good and that’s probably more so the reason they were jumpy than anything else.)

“I used to explore the woods a lot as a kid.” While the trees are largely covered with more greenery, there are some gaps that have hearts with initials carved into them. She imagines that these spots on the bark were cleared away by teens on a quest for immortality. And, in the back of her mind, she remembers being one of those teens. (Though her initials linger on a different tree.) “When I lived by a larger cluster of lakes, the woods were basically the backyard.” Willow has always had a rosy view of that trailer, but, according to Leif, it was an absolute dump and he was glad when they moved in with their grandmas. She supposes she doesn’t have the same association because she spent so much of her time in the woods surrounding the trailer. “They aren’t quite what they are in Folklore, but I like our woods here. It was always a nice place to explore. Anyway… Uh, I dunno why I shared that.” She shrugs and scratches her cheek. “But, um, yeah. Used to hang around the woods a lot. Had a fort somewhere out here and everything.”

As they continue along the trail, the closer they get to Mirror Lake, the more crisp and cool the air becomes. It’s not so noticeable at first with the shade cover growing thicker the further away they travel from the gravel lot. However, when the skin on Willow’s arms and legs begins to prickle and she notices her breath in front of her, she knows this is more than just shade cover. She recalls that grandma Juniper said that, along with the bleeding, the mists had been gathering around the lakes more frequently as of late. ‘Mist. Literally. Should have checked my map for its location.’ The path ahead of them and on their sides is clear, however, so she knows they’re not in danger of it yet. Caution tells her to turn back and curiosity encourages to go a little further, to get as close as she can. This is for their mission, after all. She swipes her staff from her wrist, letting the stone emit a small circle of warmth around them. “This isn’t usually how it is,” she explains in a whisper. “Like, it shouldn’t be cold like this.”

“We still have…” The sorceress’s voice trails off, entirely forgetting the warning she means to offer, as the faintest smell of blood hits her. It’s so faint she’s not entirely sure that it's really there. She stops, all of a sudden, and breathes in a normal breath. ‘Could just be picking up a breeze from the lake. You are sensitive to these things.’ She starts their pace again and sucks in her lower lip. “Juliet… Do you smell that? Blood?” They’re still ten minutes away from the lake and the air is already starting to smell sickeningly like metal. She summons them both scarves to tie around their noses, knowing that it’s going to get worse the closer they get. (Still no sign of the mist.) Though still too far out from the source to be certain, the atmosphere around them feels charged and she cannot tell exact what forces might be surrounding them. (She has a hunch, but she doesn’t want to make assumptions.) She tightens her grip around her staff, knowing that casting in such an environment could end up toasty toasty if she is not careful and does not account for the potential malevolent magic. ‘This isn’t creepy at all. Nope, nope, nope.’

“Um, vibe check?” Willow stops again and looks at the archer. She bites her lip, obviously unnerved. “This is getting pretty… spooky.” Even Lucky appears more alert than usual. They fly off of Grace’s head, grow in size until they are about the size of a wolf, and fly a bit ahead of them out of caution. “I am down to get as close as we can to the lake as possible.” While she has her fears, she feels quite safe with both Juliet and Lucky here. “But if you start hearing or seeing things, that’s probably a sign we should save this investigation for when we are more equipped and have more data.” Now that she’s thinking about it, it probably wasn’t the wisest move to investigate without more information but they’re here now and so far… So far everything is fine. Creepy, sure, but it hasn’t reached nightmare fuel level creepy and they’re alive. All good things in Willow's book.

Unknown to them, a figure appears some distance away from the women. Their body is made of white glowing mist and a large set of deer antlers adorns their head; some of the points on the antlers appear as sharp as knives. The body shifts and shutters, disappearing in one moment and reappearing just a foot closer to the walking duo the next. While their body initially seems to resemble a tube, as they stalk the heroines thin branch-like arms peel from their sides. They splay out their fingers, revealing that their two pronged hands resemble… scissors, of all things.

They raise their misty limbs, opening the prongs of their hands—

Lucky whirls around in midair and bolts backwards behind the heroines, towards the apparition. However, by the time Willow turns to look at what her companion is going after, the apparition disappears, making it seem like the dragon is simply acting up as they tumble into the dirt rather than tackle a threat. “Lucky?” Willow tilts her head then looks at Juliet and Grace, curious if either of them saw something. For as rambunctious as Lucky James can be, Willow James does not think her companion is playing around.

While their backs are turned, the apparition appears again but further down the trail and closer to the lake, watching them. Waiting for them. They open their hands again and snap the scissors, filling the woods with an echoing snip.

 

[ellarose]

There are many reasons why the children in Folklore are told stories convincing them to stay far away from the wood. Frightening enough that they are vigilant to avoid the wood beyond their villages and kingdoms for the entirety of their mortal lives. They pass down the same old tales to their own children and so it goes. That said, there are reasons why it was strange to everyone in Amoria that Juliet had come from the wood. Why she had become a story herself due to her association with it. Reasons why Lara had left her before going back to them. While she learned to call the wood home, she would never advise another child to follow in her footsteps. It had taken grueling, painstaking effort to become the person she is now. (There's a rawness to surviving alone out there that she would not wish upon anyone. The feeling that her body was slowly dying from thirst and hunger, holding her breath in her hollow tree as creatures that made terrifying shadows tromped by.) Unless one knows how to defend themselves from such creatures, they should not explore the wood unaccompanied by a trained guard, warrior or huntress. In Folklore, no one dares to venture too deep into wood unless they are desperate or they truly wish to disappear.

The wood in Folklore is much like a poisonous mushroom or toad in that way. Vibrantly colored, magical and beautiful... but notoriously deadly, too. Even the roads cleared and designated for safe travel are scarcely taken as of late, most people preferring to go by sea or sky. (Or, if they are royal or gifted and have the means in their bloodline, enchantment.) Juliet silently wonders about the Evermore wood when Willow admits to spending time within them-- enough that she had even procured herself a fort. Before the archer can articulate a question about this, about whether or not there are any dangers that someone as notably careful as her might have been wary of, the warm temperature rapidly drops and takes her focus with it.

Juliet lifts her jaw and points her attention unflinchingly forward. Without tearing her gaze from the path, she unties the jacket around her waist and offers it to Willow. She can tolerate the cold well enough, especially when the staff is summoned and provides them a spot of warmth. She doesn't mind it so much. (In the wood in Folklore, the seasons change rapidly enough in that this isn't all too jarring an experience.) Knowing this is unusual for Evermore does cause her to shut down her wonderings and stay alert... but in the end, it's the smell she's unprepared for.

Blood. It's blood. There's no mistaking it. (...Juliet knows it better than anyone should.) And the scent of blood is suffused with memories. Flash by flash, Juliet's mind shows her images she should not be seeing. Slashes of blood red sprays. Tearing, sloppy, wet noises. That face burned into her mind, with ghoulish, melting eyes and an unnatural, too-long mouth. Dripping lips framed around those thin, too-long teeth that gleamed in the moonlight like a thousand bone-white sickles. And in between its teeth-- in between its teeth--

Once upon a time, Juliet stared one of the horror stories about the wood of Folklore dead in the eyes. Some of them are lies. But some are the truth.

'Come back to me, Juliet. You're okay now. It's okay.' Juliet swallows her scream but barely suppress the tremor in her bones. At least that's something she can blame it on the cold. She rubs her thumb repeatedly over the 'little alien buddy' in her pocket, quickly familiarizing herself with the tiny ridges and indents that make up it's wide-eyed face. (...She is not in Folklore. The little alien buddy is proof of that. She would not find a little alien buddy in Folklore.) Once she brings herself back from that place she never wants to go back to, she clutches her bow instead. The alien buddy will save her from no one but her own mind right now. Think. The lakes here bleed. This might be normal. However, that is not to say that there won't be a corpse ahead. That something might be lurking out there that leaves corpses in its wake. She needs to be prepared for anything.

While Juliet does not wish to expose any part of what she just relived, nor the discomfort it brings her, she tightens the scarf around her face to block out the smell the best she can. (It smells like honey and thyme.) Willow says she can keep going, in spite of the 'spooky' atmosphere. If that is the case, the archer decides to follow her lead. (Juliet has survived the wood of Folklore. If her companion claims to have explored the Evermore wood as a child, she should be able to keep her pace. It is just... unfamiliar.) Just as it is normal for the lakes to bleed, it is also relatively normal for Juliet to see and hear things. With this in mind, she must eliminate herself as a credible source and trust Willow James's judgement more than her own. Unless things become truly toasty-toasty, she will not be the reason they retreat. (She will not hold anyone back.)

"...Have you ever heard or seen things in the wood here?" Juliet asks, refusing to let on that she has seen anything herself. Automatically, the archer whips around with her bow raised and ready when Lucky suddenly charges behind them and lands in the dirt. (Well... evidently Lucky is seeing things. There is nothing behind them. Or rather there appears to be nothing behind them. She does not let her guard down a single inch, also considering the dragon's reaction a reason for alarm.) When Willow turns to look at her, Juliet returns her questioning glance. At her side, Grace stands with her eyes narrowed and ears perked atop her head. The fox growls under her breath before charging in the opposite direction, towards the lake, growing herself to the size of a wolf as she halts just at the edge. (That's when she notices it. The snip, snip, snip.)

Grace howls, the sound piercing, high pitched and haunting. (It's rare for her companion to bark-- let alone howl.) The noise sets forth a vibration that shudders through the trees, ripples across the water, and slices through both the snipping and the mysterious antlered entity by the lakeside. (However, it could have also disappeared on purpose as the two heroines have turned to face it once again.) Once more, it looks like the companion is reacting to nothing in particular. But Juliet knows Grace just as well as Willow knows Lucky. She wouldn't act this way for no reason.

"Gracie." Juliet rushes towards the lake to stand by her companion's side, her boots making a shlick-shlick sound through the deepening mud. (In this moment, she wishes her footsteps were more like the snap-snap of the flip-flops she wore earlier. Then it would sound less like... less like...) The archer steels herself. She needs to stay close to Grace. The fox's teeth are bared, her attention determinedly set forward. "What is it? What did you see?"

Juliet peers down at the lake water that laps softly at the toe of her boots. And within she sees her reflection. Which, yes, shouldn't be unusual... except it is. Because what she sees is a reflection of herself from several years ago. This Juliet is a child, hollow-eyed and small, wearing a bloodied white rag of a dress. (The Grace who stands beside her is similarly small.) 'I saw it. I saw the...' Her voice whispers quietly. Just beyond her child self, something else appears in the lake's surface. One silver flicker, then another, before the antlered apparition appears and approaches with scissors wide, poised to snap the young Juliet's neck...

Before it can strike, a rosy, bloody red swirls just beneath the surface of the water and covers everything up. The smell of blood grows thicker and less tolerable. Grace and the archer both whip around at the same time.

And once more, there's nothing there. There appears to be nothing there. (Just Willow and Lucky.) But there might be something else they can't see. Juliet keeps her eyes narrowed and arrow steadily pointed, ensuring she's prepared for anything. (She pushes back so hard on her nausea, on the memories, it makes her somewhat dizzy. Even with the scarf, the smell of blood is strong.) Grace growls under her breath again, pressing comfortingly against her calves.

"The reflection. I saw it appear in the lake's reflection." Juliet is confident in this claim, knowing now that both of their companions have seen it as well. (It's not just her anymore.) "Glowing... mostly featureless aside from its large antlers and scissor-hands. Do such creatures commonly roam the wood here?" Somehow, she has a feeling the answer will be no. She cannot imagine Willow James whiling away hours of her childhood in a place where such dangers exist. (Well... the archer assumes it is dangerous, anyway. Many of it's limbs are knife-sharp.) "Hurry and take any samples you might need. If this creature is unknown to you, I'm not sure if we should stay here for much longer. It seems like a spirit... by which I mean I'm not certain it's something we can fight." She turns around with her weapon still raised in spite of that. "I'll watch your back. Grace will take the front.... Lucky, will you keep watch from above?"

 

[starboob]

Okay, so they may be ten thousand leagues in over their heads. Look, Willow James has all the faith in the world that Juliet August can keep her safe. She has all the faith in the world that her companion would sooner burn the whole world down before letting a single curly hair on Willow James’s head come to harm. What concerns her, what makes her wary, is that the boundary, the glowing perimeter that they can see on either side of them, should prevent any threat from getting near them. (Well, save for the mist, but the mist itself is kind of an anomaly. And she supposes another anomaly is about to be added to that list if whatever this threat is has not also been forced or kept out by the boundary.) Anything that can somehow cross that threshold deserves an extra layer of caution. And as the hackles rise on the back of her neck, she believes that this might be an invitation to head home. Of course her throat is too tight to voice this at the moment.

She stares in wide-eyed shock at the empty space where Lucky had tumbled, then her gaze flicks over to the growling fox. (She is surprised to learn that Grace makes any noises at all.) As Grace darts forward, she whirls around and follows her direction, pressing her palms over her ears as the fox belts out a howl— the sharpness of the noise practically cuts into her ears, forcing tears to spring into her eyes.

Willow tries to run forward and follow Juliet, but Lucky stops her, using their tail to loop her by the waist and pull her back. Their milky eyes are trained forward, just as Grace’s are, with their own fangs bared. “Lucky, c’mon, you gotta let me—”

Her companion interrupts her with another growl, then a low hiss as they puff out black smoke from their nostrils in warning. She furrows her brow then slowly follows their gaze over to the archer, but, as with before, nothing aside from the archer and the fox are ahead. ‘Okay, so whatever this is, our companions can see but we can’t. Cool. Totally cool and not concerning.’ Without changing their expression or acknowledging the sorceress, the dragon releases her and allows her to trudge through the muddied, foul ground. Schlick, schlick, schlick.

As she approaches the bloody lake, the smell in the air becomes so thick, it’s dizzying and makes it difficult for her to think clearly as tension tightens around her head. She tries to get another wrap-around with the scarf to cover her nose, but it doesn’t have any more length and she actually thinks she’s going to pass out from the noxious fumes. Where casting is an option to protect them from the smell, she’s still wary about it, no matter how tempting. (This is where potions can be advantageous. She’ll need to ask Milfred if she has any pointers on making potions on the go— especially since so many require hours or even days to brew.)

Once she’s beside the archer again, she peers into the red mirror surface and sees only herself. Albeit, a younger version, though Willow doesn’t exactly notice this— the version of her in the lake is sixteen-going-on-seventeen and though roughly a decade older now, the differences between Willows are minimal. Perhaps if she were to stare a bit longer, she would take notice (and maybe even note the young Dorothea who soon joins her reflection) but she looks away a moment too soon. The looking glass into the past disappears as she pulls herself away and considers the archer’s question.

“A glowing, figureless, be-antlered, and scissor-handed fiend?” Even just conjuring it with her imagination causes a shiver to run down her spine. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that.” And there are people in Elsewhere who actively seek out monsters, ghouls, and other malevolents in the woods. None of their reports match Juliet’s description though. Not that she actively keeps herself updated on the zines and flyers they post around town. (Sawyer says all of those hunters are full of baloney anyway. “The real monsters, William, are the ones we pretend aren’t there and the only ghosts we have are our memories. May I borrow your film developing equipment?”)

Aside from deer, jackalopes, and some dragons (like Lucky) she really can’t think of anything else that has antlers in Evermore. Or anything that remotely resembles what Juliet is describing. (That it has scissors built into its form does make her wonder about the relationship it might have to the problems affecting threads and, by extension, love. And where there is a glow of satisfaction that fills her, knowing this wasn’t an entirely pointless venture, her nerves are rattling just the same because, if related, it’s nothing like what they’ve experienced in Folklore. They have no idea what might work against this thing or if anything can harm it, as Juliet points out it could be a spirit.) Once again, Sawyer comes to mind and it becomes increasingly obvious that they are going to have to pay the weirdo wizard a visit given her expertise in all things occult.

Whatever this thing is, she supposes they can (and should) puzzle this out once they’re far, far away from the woods and whatever the apparition might be. This situation’s level of toast-toasty rises with each passing second and Willow is in full agreement that they need to hightail it out of her as fast as possible. Her grip on her staff tightens as she passively pulls the jacket (Juliet’s new jacket) tighter around her shoulders. (She makes a promise to not steal this jacket. As much as she wants to and for as red as her cheeks got when the archer offered it, Juliet is still rather new to the Willow James clothing theft rodeo and she does prefer to ease her victims into her thieving ways.)

“You said you saw this thing through a reflection, Juliet?” Willow drops her hand down to her keychain and closes her first around the mirrorball as an idea starts to form in her head; though she isn’t certain how risky it is with all the strangeness in the air. Even so, being able to see the apparition would be helpful. It's worth trying. “I think I can help you all keep watch.”

She warms one of the mirror pieces under her thumb, testing out the reactivity of the air and what adjustments she might need to make to best avoid a toasty-toasty experience. Not feeling anything too unusual, aside from some static-zaps against her thumb, she decides to take the risk and unclips the keychain, holding it in her fist. She stamps her staff to the ground so that it stands upright then clasps both palms around the keychain. As she parts her hands, the pieces of the mirrorball separate in time with the movement, and gather to form seven full-length mirrors. She uses these pieces to create a wide, loose circle around them, hopeful that this might give them more security in tracking this apparition while Willow gathers data.

Then, with the rest of the group standing watch, Willow summons her Sawyer-modified camera that has a glyph etched onto the lens as a means to capture elusive muses like vampires and spirits. (She was very adamant that Willow should not be mad at her for etching the glyph onto the lens without asking, claiming there would be a day when Willow would need to be a legit monster/ghost chaser. Regardless of the psychic’s accuracy, she still wishes Sawyer would run these things by her first.) She levitates the camera into the air to get better shots and has it pan around their immediate surroundings, snapping photos every couple of seconds.

As the camera captures evidence (hopefully), Willow remains as still as possible, keeping her focus in one direction. She avoids looking at the mirror pieces directly in front of her, fearful of what she might see in them. (Still, through her peripheries, she spots the flicker of the apparition, seeming to jump between reflections as it avoids being looked at directly.) While her heart is beating wildly in her chest, she doesn’t want to move and risk scaring it off.

In between camera shutters, everything else sounds suspicious— from snapping twigs to rustling bushes— and she has to tense herself to keep from reacting. This takes a great deal of effort on the sorceress’s part and it does not get any easier when snips start to fill the air, intermingled with everything else. She can feel her companion’s wing beat from above and can sense them whipping their head around, following the sound of the scissors. Willow barely breathes for risk of being too much of a distracting noise. And beyond just keeping herself tense to avoid moving too suddenly, she has to control the chatter of her teeth as the temperature continues to plummet. (She needs to give the archer her jacket back.) Water splashes at the center of the lake and she senses the dragon looking over at the noise, hears their low growl. The camera shutters. Snip.

Snip. Ever so slowly, she moves one hand to grip her staff, until her knuckles threaten to break through her skin. The camera lowers back in front of the sorceress, indicating that it's finished, but before she can signal that they should skedaddle, another snip interrupts, sounding only inches away from her face even if nothing is there. Lucky hisses, but doesn’t move in any way that suggests they can see the target. Nothing appears in the mirrors either. Nor can Willow feel anything in front of her, but she backs away slowly still.

“K-kay, think we can jet now.” She swallows hard, taking the chance to look over to the archer and gestures back towards the car. “I won’t judge if you bolt away like a weenie, because I really and seriously am abo—” Her sentence breaks off when the apparition appears in the mirror directly to their right, pulling her attention. She only catches this reflection because the white glow of its form brightens in the mirror. The sorceress freezes as she takes in the figure with her own eyes for the first time. In the reflection she can see Lucky growling at the figure, but it pays the dragon no mind.

It does, however, blink away when the companions try to attack it, only to reveal itself right in front of the heroines when it comes back not even a second later. It raises one of its razor sharp limbs and arcs downwards, aiming right for their icicle laced thread—!!

 

[ellarose]

"Duck." Juliet snatches onto Willow's arm and hastily yanks them both down to their haunches, bringing their thread down with them and narrowly avoiding the entity's strike. It's fast and so she must be faster. Within seconds the archer has them both up on their feet again, pressing the sorceress towards her companion before standing in front of her with her bow raised. While she is tempted to break out one of her bubbled matchstick arrows to duel the cold atmosphere this spirit beckons with it, she is not sure whether or not her arrows will deal any damage at all. Better not waste it. Experimentally, she uses a normal arrow and watches unimpressed as it flies right through the creature's tube-like body of light. (Once more, her skills with weapons are rendered useless when faced with mysterious magics.) For now, she makes the spur of the moment decision to act as a distraction and simultaneously use that time to search for weaknesses. While she knows now it will do little good, they need to observe how their opponent reacts in order to learn more about it. (And, hopefully, not get killed in the process. Though this is always a possibility.) She twists her bow back behind her and raises her knife instead, bolting towards it.

Instead of disappearing this time, the creature reacts by mirroring Juliet's movements as if to mock her, locking them into a sort of dance rather than an actual fight. And the second she makes that association? It shudders and makes itself a reality as well. The creature sheds its disguise (or perhaps it dons one) appearing to her as a woman in a black velvet hood and ball gown. Red lips smile beneath her shaded eyes before she (it) grabs by Juliet by her forearms, leaving matching red slashes as they slide down to her wrists. (Grace growls from somewhere to her left.) She's yanked towards her (it), forced to sway before she's swept in a fluid underarm turn and dipped dramatically towards the ground. "Juliet." It leans in and whispers with her voice, breathing a layer of frost on the shell of the archer's ear. "I've missed you, my heart."

Juliet is frozen still by those words and can do nothing but hang in her arms, holding onto nothing but her dagger. Phantasmic scissor-shaped appendages burst from her (its) back, angling once more towards their sparkling and similarly nearly-frozen thread. The blade scrapes, sending vibrations through the line that connects directly to her heart, rubbing up against something painful. "Sefarina, dont--" She hears the clock tolling, the cobblestone beneath her feet. The sound of her name breaks the spell of the past, but it's already too late as the scissors flash downward. Perhaps this is for the best. Willow James will be free of her and--

The blades close on their thread with a sharp snap and--?

A golden, honey-like drop of light beams through the ice on their thread, flashing and spreading outward. (The icicles melt into a shower of droplets that spray and gleam like champagne bubbles.) The creature (its not her) wails and shrieks violently as the force behind it burns their scissors away. With that, the creature's womanly disguise is taken by gravity, like a cloak discarded from a body, and it glitches backward in bursts before disappearing altogether. Juliet is unceremoniously dropped to the ground with a thump, crunching leaves beneath her. She shudders there, teeth chattering loudly, and reminds herself with consoling breaths that the cold is a perfectly acceptable excuse. Especially when a softly pattering rain begins to fall, sending small ripples across the bloodied lake. (The smell isn't quite as pervading as the red in the lake appears to retreat just a little bit.) Gathering herself up to sit, she brings a hand over her frozen ear to warm it. (It's like she cupped sunlight inside of it like water, at the pace that it thaws.) The rain develops into a mix of snow and hail.

Aside from the pattering of ice through the branches above, the noises the creature had been taunting with stop and the air is peacefully still around them. Their thread still glows softly between them. It... can't be cut? Or rather, whatever that creature was, it wasn't actually powerful enough to sever their thread. (Like tying up the stone hydra, Juliet has never known a thread to possess such strength. As if it's under the protection by the gods and goddesses themselves. That, though, is a bit far fetched. Had she been under their protection... well, they really ought to have stepped in a lot sooner than this.) Then again, the existence of their thread is an anomaly altogether. Seeing as they come from completely different worlds... and yet even the magicked gateways standing between them all their lives haven't been enough to tear through their thread. Juliet had tried not to think about their thread all this time. But watching it blazing there between them, like something dangerous and indomitable, for the first time she wonders why.

Juliet wonders why and how and whether or not this has ever happened before. (Folklore is filled with stories. And while she has heard countless tales of star-crossed love, she has never heard of one like this.) A thread that connects hearts from Folklore and Evermore together. Two people who never would have met at all if Willow James had never decided to go on her quest to save love. They've been named 'heroines of love' across the kingdoms. (Millicent had even said their aura was golden.) And through all of this, the archer suddenly feels as if she is being toyed with. Like she's a meagre piece in someone else's game. And she doesn't feel very much like playing by the rules of destiny or fate. She never asked for any of this. Never, never, never. To what does she owe love when it has dealt her little more than pain? She's played all of her roles diligently, wanting to be enough without ever truly being enough. There is not a single person or place in the worlds that feels her absence like an open wound that only she can mend... with the exception of the services she can provide to the people who once cast her away or laughed at her suffering. They need what she can do for them. They do not need her. There's a difference.

Until she made that realization, she really had been trying to clear her name.

Willow James has a wealth of love in her life. Of course she possesses the will to fight to save it... Juliet cannot even fault her for it, having seen it for herself. (The archer gently traces the fresh claw marks on her arms, remembering the way Willow's grandma wrapped and kissed her bruises.) She might feel the same way in that position, instead of fleeting and inconsequential. Fighting just to make a small imprint on the world they live in, to make a difference for women who are trapped like she was. And still she notices herself falling into her old patterns. Bending diligently, wanting to take the shape of someone who can fit in Evermore. But she's learned this lesson over and over again. It won't work.

So why, then, has this thread cruelly drawn Willow to Juliet? To a person who has every reason not to save love?

Wondering makes Juliet suspect she's being laughed at by whoever weaves this sorry embroidery of love. She often feels much too small to be contemplating powers beyond her mortal comprehension. Mortals. She considers the voices in the labyrinth, the forces that took them into Evermore. Perhaps... they can be reached again. Until then, though, Juliet resolves to push all of this to the wayside. Grace whines softly next to her, inspecting her bleeding arms before peering into her glazed eyes. She shakes her head, drags herself back. Right. They need to get out of here. Gradually, the light of their thread flickers back to normal. The hail and snow softens, trickling into a light rain. Some warmth returns to the air around them.

"We should go." Juliet stands, wrapping her arms around herself and avoiding Willow's eyes. Her ponytail has come slightly undone, her red hair is sticking her face and neck. Did she see what she saw? Did she see her? While she wonders, she doesn't ask any one of those questions. "...Do you have everything you need?"

 

[starboob]

Willow’s hands are like snakes around the steering wheel, strangling it. She plays the moments from before over and over again in her head as she searches for clues or answers, anything to help her identify the entity and why it targeted their thread. (Is it the culprit? The lone bad actor trying to ruin love by severing threads? Does this mean it's traveling between realms?) Questions upon questions are left unanswered and thrown into the pile she keeps in her mind. Perhaps not the most pressing question of them all, but the one that rings loudest when she thinks about their thread is, why? (Her heart practically stopped back there when the entity raised its sharp limb and brought it over their thread like the executioner’s axe.) She supposes there might be certain privileges that come with being the prophesized heroines of love, but she never assumed it would make their thread impervious to such magics. Then again, she never expected their thread to tangle a stone hydra or transformed prince. She never even expected it to remain visible once it was revealed. Their thread is a strange thing and always has been.

She chances a glance between their chests, catching the thread gleaming off the rays of afternoon sun. Her eyes follow it over to Juliet and while there seems to be a question on her expression, she doesn’t ask it. She flips on the radio to fill the silence instead.

“—up all you party people!? Get ready for one more hour of commercial free radio. Love her or hate her, we’re kicking off this next hour with Dor—”

Willow changes the station and then points to the glovebox. “There’s a first aid kit in there.” She would have mentioned it sooner, but with the way they bolted from the lake back towards her car, there really wasn’t the time as she fumbled to put the key into the ignition. (Thankfully, the engine immediately roared to life and she peeled out of the gravel lot not a second later, barely registering the presence of a black vehicle with blacked out windows parked next to the jalopy.) Now that they’re a safe distance away, now that she’s checked her mirrors thousands of times to ensure they aren’t being followed, she has the time to address the archer’s injuries. “If you need me to do your bandages, I can once we get back.” By which she means to her lab in the city, not the Rhode Island home; though she neglects to mention this with her mind understandably so full of other matters.

Other matters like the way Juliet spoke someone’s name. (“Sefarina, don’t—”) No part of Willow thinks that Juliet discovered the name of the entity and decided to appeal to it by using its name. It’s more than likely that the entity manipulated the archer’s perception, pulling on her memories to construct an alternate reality. (This does not change the way Juliet froze in the entity’s embrace. How she seemed entirely helpless like that. In that moment, Willow James felt helpless too, knowing there was nothing she could do to save her or protect her. Knowing she wasn’t and isn’t ready to face foes of unknown force or power. Knowing she would only get in the way. Never again does she want to feel that way. She needs to start preparing herself to be useful. She has to do more than just capture photos of Juliet’s fight— and she mostly only did that to feel useful. She won't be deadweight. She refuses.) Whatever Juliet saw in front of her, she is the only person who saw the illusion as Willow only saw the entity in its sharp form. (However, the mirrors did reveal a different story. The sorceress isn't quite sure what to make of it yet, having seen a number of unknown figures dancing with Juliet in the mirrors. Most of them she had not recognized, but there was one whose image sent such a shock through her, she isn't convinced of what she saw. Especially since the illusion broke a second later and the entity disappeared.)

She doesn’t ask Juliet about Sefarina and she doesn’t think that she will. That aside, based on what she might have seen, she knows she needs to write to Meredith. (And a guilty part of her knows she should have written to her yesterday, the second she got back to Elsewhere. News is going to travel fast and it’s only a matter of time before her best friend finds out that she went to the other side and back without telling her. She's going to be even more hurt that Willow went off to pursue an entire epic quest, too.) Though still uncertain of what she saw exactly, those piercing ocean blue eyes that will drag anyone under and drown them without mercy are a perfect picture in her memory. She’ll have to wait for her film to develop to be assured, but if it’s true Meredith will want to know and she’ll probably even volunteer to help, given her personal investment in this particular case.

When they turn into the city, Willow, unlike earlier, does not give Juliet a tour as they drive by a crumbled spire, the park, or any of her favorite shops. She doesn’t even point out Love Triangle, the pizza shop she lives above. The sorceress is laser focused on their destination and even fails to mention that they’re pulling into a university parking lot. Or that the upside down brick mansion they’re approaching is one of the many university buildings. This all slips Willow’s mind as she takes them through the quiet hallways of the university, leading them down into the basement levels where most of the graduate labs happen to be located. (Budget cuts or something.)

Once they’re at the door that has JAMES & HIGGINS printed across a blacked out window in large white block letters, Willow circles her finger over the lock and the door swings open. ‘I should probably—’

Two gunshots immediately fire off from inside the lab and Willow reacts with all the practice of someone who has definitely experienced this type of greeting. Meaning, before the two bullets can amble their way over to them (they fly through the air like graceless bumble bees), the sorceress bats them away with a swift breeze. The two bullets crash into a high pile of papers and burst into a shower of flower petals. Even so, Willow gives an incredulous look. “Sawyer! No gun casting!”

Sawyer, a tall, lanky woman with dark hair, isn’t even facing them. Her back is turned as she looks over a vat of something Willow probably doesn’t want to know anything about. The smoking gun is held and pointed at them both from under one arm. With the dust so to speak settled, Willow also becomes mortifyingly aware that it must be laundry day as there is no other explanation for Sawyer’s current outfit that consists of booty-shorts that have a sequin print over the bum that reads Eat My Ass, a fluffy leopard print cropped puffer coat, and a cowboy hat. (The cowboy hat is almost a uniform standard for the weirdo, but paired with this ensemble it’s particularly out of place.) Willow doesn’t know how to address any of this and so she doesn’t. ‘I bet she planned this on purpose.’

“Ah, William. It’s only you.” Sawyer still doesn’t turn around, but she does set the gun down on her desk. “One moment, my soup is nearing perfection.”

Willow James does not believe for a single second that Sawyer is cooking an actual soup. She hates soup. The sorceress shakes her head, rolls her eyes and motions for Juliet to follow her inside the cluttered lab. Sawyer certainly has made herself at home since Willow’s been absent. Before, she was at least able to walk a clear path to her desk. With the state of disarray everything is in, she has to tiptoe, step over, and weave through piles of papers, boxes, and filing cabinets before she reaches her desk— that Sawyer has taken over with her various miscellaneous items. Honestly, the space is so cluttered it’s hard to imagine that there is a desk underneath at all. She sighs and waves her hands over the mess, sending the items back to their prior homes until her desk only has Willow James clutter (i.e., a few large tomes, notebooks, some picture frames, and multi-colored clicky pens). The only non-Willow item on the desk that remains is a hand-sized sleeping raccoon. “Tiger Lily Billy,” Willow puts her hands on her hips. “This is not your den.”

The raccoon is asleep and does not respond. Willow hadn’t expected him to, so she scoops him up in her palms and sets him on a shelf above her desk in between a crystal ball that has a violet eye peering through it and a jar simply labeled Not Bees. (It rattles ominously.) She then offers Juliet the rolling desk chair and hops onto her desk, taking her camera out of its case. “Humphrey Dumphrey, are you still using my film supplies?”

“Negative. I put them back in the top drawer as you asked.”

“Thanks. What did you need them for anyway?”

“This.”

“Your soup?”

“No, this.” The wizard gestures vaguely and doesn’t elaborate more than that, but the sorceress doesn’t expect her to. She’s accustomed herself to asking Sawyer as few questions as possible over the years. However, while Willow rifles through the desk drawer for her film supplies, Sawyer decides to supply an explanation. “I knew you would need to develop film today and I knew I wouldn’t have plans— I’m psychic,” she clarifies this for Juliet’s benefit. “So I asked to borrow your film equipment so that you would come over and we could hang out.”

“Sawyer.” Willow smiles in disbelief. “You can just ask me to hang out with you, you know?”

“Oh… Yes, I do know this now.” A bright green light flashes through the lab as the vat Sawyer is working at puffs out billows of steam into the air. The contents within the vat then bubble aggressively and slosh over the sides as a hand (?) reaches through the liquid. “Aht, aht, aht— not yet!” The wizard scolds, grabbing her gun and magicking it into a cane with a silver wolf’s head for a handle. She then proceeds to whack the hand (?) until it splashes back beneath the surface. As with all things Sawyer, Willow doesn’t know what to say so she says nothing. ‘Juliet already knows Milfred. I probably don’t need to explain.’ Though she is curious whether or not Juliet sees that parallels that she is seeing.

“Ah, okay. Okay.” Sawyer mutters to herself, dipping a ladle into the vat and pulling it back up to taste. “Still not ripe. ‘Tis fine.” She swirls her hand over her soup, seeming to shower glitter over it, before she turns with a clap of her hands, finally facing Willow James and Juliet August. She inclines her head towards Juliet, tipping her cowboy hat at the same time. “You must be Juliet with the arms.” She beams proudly while Willow freezes in place, cheeks flushing instantly. She tries to signal to Sawyer to shut up, but the wolf pointedly ignores Willow’s frantic cut it out hand motions. “Our William here has written extensively of your arms. Her reports are quite thorough and very detailed. Had I not eaten them to properly absorb their knowledges, I would have shown you so that you could critique Mr. Jameson’s veracity.”

While their lab is incredibly cluttered, Sawyer manages to close the distance between them with a few impressive leaps over the piles and stacks, landing right in front of Juliet. When the wolf rises to stand at her full height, she stands a half-head taller than Juliet (in her platform boots). Apparently not bothered by things like personal space, she grabs onto Juliet's arms and meets those brown eyes with her earnest green-blue gaze. She squeezes said arms and then lets go, nodding. “I see why you noted these guns, William. Mhm. I am a fan.” She returns her attention to the archer. “Howdy doo.” (...Since when has Sawyer started saying howdy doo?)

“May I offer you some refreshments?” She tilts her head and then conjures a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. “You must have traveled quite far to get here!” She underhands the bag of chips to the archer and then proceeds to wave over a tea kettle from her desk (it floats over to them at a gentle pace), and pours Juliet a cup. She reaches over Willow’s head to grab a jar labeled Not Poison. "I believe this is sugar or, perhaps, if you are very and supremely lucky, it could be crushed up vitamins." The jar that is labeled Not Bees shakes suspiciously. "Well, at least we know it's not bees." She chuckles nervously, eyeing the jar warily. "What a relief, what a relief. I'm quite allergic. Anyway, Juliet with the arms! What opinions do you have on worms on strings? What did you think of funnel cake? Or have you not gotten there yet? My timelines are a little wonky now that you two are decorated realm hoppers."

 

[ellarose]

...Juliet has never laid eyes upon a chair with wheels before. And now she is sitting in one. As Willow discusses the camera equipment with Sawyer, she quietly spins herself around in it once. When she realizes neither of the two are watching her experience this new thing she's found, she grants herself the childlike pleasure of spinning a around a second and third time as well. Then she presses the toe of her boot to the floor to stop herself, blinking to regain her focus when the lab spins while she's sitting still. She rates the experience a four out of five stars. (A pamphlet at the diner had rated the potato branches (fries) a 'five out of five' stars and the archer agrees with whoever made this assessment.) The experience in Evermore's wood, however, was a zero out of five stars. Speaking of which, she still needs to tend to her arms, having dazedly only patched one of them during the ride. Admittedly, she'd been wary to open any of the car's compartments to find the first aid kit, expecting to discover mouths full of sharp teeth. She does not trust the machines.

Besides, it is not too absurd to fear teeth in unexpected places. Juliet has lived with Millicent long enough to take that away as an important life lesson. It had taken the Augusts three months to convince her that her wardrobe was not going to eat her and swallow her up into hell. To this day, Angelica still teases her about it. 'Most children fear creatures of the night in their wardrobes. But not you, miss Juliet... fearin' the wardrobe itself.' That was because Juliet already knew how to deal with creatures, sleeping with a stolen knife from the kitchen under her soft, rose-scented pillow. Angelica was cross when she first discovered it, nearly having met her end at the blade attempting to rouse her from a night terror... she promised she would not tell her parents so long as she agreed to stop stealing knives from the kitchen.

Aside from Millicent's mother and Nessa, Juliet has not known any other person to possess the same... ah. Air as Millie? If she were speaking on this matter, she may just gesture her arms vaguely in attempt to explain her perspective. It is something of an impossibility, beyond the capability of any words in this language. (Perhaps because the witch of the wood refuses to let herself be defined by any one particular thing.) The assortment of strange jars and objects, the mismatched clothes, the unexplainable motives and spells. And now there is Sawyer, who captures her essence. They are not exactly the same by any means and yet...

Watching Sawyer smack a hand back down into the vat with her shifting cane says everything. Juliet sees Millie in the gesticulation, the way she chased that flying eyeball out of her house with a broom. (Aside from height, Sawyer resembles Millie than Nessa ever did.) And now she's looking at her.

"With the arms...?" Juliet echoes, glancing inquisitively from Sawyer to Willow and then back again. Oh. Her arms. (That's what she was going to do. She still needs to wrap the right one up.) Before she can turn to do this, though, Sawyer continues to explain and Juliet tilts her head as she wonders why her companion might have documented her arms so thoroughly. Eventually, however, the memory resurfaces. "Oh... because you took those samples from the Lightless wound. That's right." They had been visiting Millie then. She supposes she'd forgotten that Willow had been writing a friend at the time. The sorceress had wrapped her wound and kissed it in a similar way that her grandma Elva had. She blushes at the thought. It'd be awfully silly to ask for Willow's help again, seeing as she's already tended to one of her wounds.

Juliet naturally needs to stand to her full height from the rolling chair when Sawyer jumps in front of her. Surely she's not as tall as she looks-- except she is, though. Frustratingly, the other woman stands just a smidgen taller than her... and proceeds to disarm her by taking her arms into her hands and squeezing them. The archer cannot stop herself from flinching back from the unexpected touch before steeling herself over again. Guns? (Her arms are not guns.) Even so, she seems to approve of them all the same and the archer decides it'd be better not to argue. She knows Millie too well to dispute this sort of thing. It can turn into a long, hopelessly confusing battle.

Flamin' Hot Cheetos? Juliet shakes the bag once before slowly tearing it open. (Is it flaming red cakes in 'chip' form?) The bright reddish branches inside of the bag certainly do not smell that way. She stares so intensely at the contents of the bag that it looks like she's glaring. Pinching one between her fingers, she deigns to give it a try. Red dust from the 'flamin' hot cheeto' covers everything from her fingertips to her tongue and almost makes her cough as she breathes it in. It crunches very loudly between her teeth. (Not a stealthy snack.) It is also quite spicy. Compared to her expectations, the taste is admittedly disappointing. (This is mostly due to the misleading nature of the name.) Two out of five stars. With the betrayal written plain on her face for once, she hands the bag of chips back. "...No, thank you." Feeling quite deceived, she sinks herself back down into the rolling chair and finds this is one of those rare times she considers herself full. "I have already eaten plenty today. Perhaps the creature in your soup would appreciate the fire-sticks more." Rubbing her ear, remembering the bite of the frost layered over her skin, she considers that she is even less inclined to play roulette with drink.

Juliet spins herself towards Willow's desk, shaking out the contents from the first aid kit she carried in with her. As she does so, she thoughtfully considers the barrage of questions sent her way. (This does not shake her nearly as much as the other things do, finding she's quite used to fielding them from Millie.) "...Worms exist. And I suppose some might crawl on strings. I am fine with that. As long as they are not eating my flesh or living in the apples I've picked, they're fine." She shrugs, considering that ought to suffice. "...I have tried many types of cake since arriving in Evermore. They have all been four and five out of five stars so far." (The donuts, despite being called donuts, make her think of cake as well.) She tilts her head questioningly at Willow. "...Have I tried a 'funnel cake' yet?" Despite feeling that she's full (for the time being) she cannot help the lilt of curiosity in her tone. Sawyer mentions them being 'realm hoppers' and Juliet notices they haven't had to explain her presence yet. Perhaps due to the fact that she and Willow have been in correspondence. Millie had similarly not needed to ask anything when they arrived. How do they know the things they know beyond that? (Like 'howdy doo'.) Somehow, she knows better than to seek the answer to that particular question.

Juliet has one end of the gauze she's attempting to maneuver around her right arm in her teeth when she sharply notices the hand rising out of the soup again. Otherwise occupied, she vaguely nods towards it to inform Sawyer of this fact... but now it's stretching itself long enough to garner all of their attention, longer than humanely possible, reaching over all of their heads to grasp the suspicious 'Not Bees' jar.

 

[starboob]

Willow sees her entire short life flash before her eyes in the seconds that pass between Sawyer embarrassing her, in true oblivious earnest Sawyer fashion, and Juliet putting the wrong pieces together. It settles that she doesn’t understand that Willow’s last correspondence had actually been a majorly gay confessional review of Juliet “arms of a goddess” August. Relief has never tasted sweeter.

The sorceress attempts to slump backwards but hits her head on the shelf above her desk. She scowls at the offending furniture. Meanwhile, Sawyer observes Juliet with the utmost intensity and scrutiny as she inspects the chips with an equal amount of investigation. “Ah, yes. The samples! The samples. I have been meaning to ask if you might be able to procure more of that Lightless venom? ‘Twas rather fascinating to work with.” The wizard fails to explain what sort of tests she ran and Willow has a feeling it could have something to do with whatever is brewing in the vat. “Willow reports the Lightless are an affliction of character, but the venom suggests otherwise. ‘Tis why I would like more samples! A full Costco sample time platter would be best por favor.”

Sawyer is visibly disappointed when Juliet hands back the bag of chips, her expression dropping into a frown. She takes the bag and then tosses them behind her where they disappear in midair, never hitting the ground. (Willow can only hope Sawyer has directed the chips into the trash or snack cabinet.) “Forgive my offense.”

The wolf moves through her upset quickly, however, delighting as Juliet shares her opinions on worms on strings and funnel cakes. Or, rather, just cakes in general. (Willow is not surprised that Sawyer already knows they plan on heading to the fair later in the evening, where she does plan to have Juliet try funnel cake. The werewolf is a psychic, after all.) She shakes her head, opening her mouth to inform Juliet that funnel cakes will happen later, but the shadow from Sawyer’s creation looms over her line of sight at the same moment it does Sawyer’s, who looks up.

“Blast.” The wizard tsks and pulls on the handle of her cane to reveal a saber hidden within. (Is there anything the wizard’s cane cannot transform into?) She lifts the blade above her head and, with a flourish of wrist movements, cuts through the hand. It jerks, tenses, flexes, then slithers back into the vat in a rush, splashing some droplets onto the counter. “The not bees are not for you,” she chastises, turning towards the vat and leaping back over to it. “So needy you are.”

With Sawyer otherwise occupied with her vat of mysteriousness, Willow hops down from the desk and reaches her hand out for the bandages that Juliet is currently wrestling with. “You can ask for help, you know. I did already offer.” So what if Juliet managed to finagle her left arm into bandages? She doesn’t see how that is relevant.

“Oi, don’t make me feed you another etiquette book!” Sawyer can be heard in the background fighting the contents of the vat. “You know those taste like unseasoned steamed cauliflower.”

Willow pays this no mind. This is just business as usual with her odd labmate. (It should be noted that the basement laboratory is rather large. Almost too large for only two people. While impossible to know without a deep cleanse, there are actually four other desks hidden in the lab that would hint at four other labmates. It’s a wonder what might have happened to them.) A loud boom comes from Sawyer’s direction and while Willow jumps in surprise, she doesn’t bother to turn to check on the other caster. ‘She’ll let me know if she needs help.’ The wizard tends to be fiercely independent, especially when it comes to her experiments, and only asks for assistance when she’s in dire need.

She takes the gauze from Juliet, kisses it, and starts to adjust the wrappings on her arm when Sawyer surprises her by calling for her.

“I could use an extra hand, Jameson. Perhaps even six.” She grunts, pressing a lid over the vat and holding it closed. The contents belch and push against the shield. Sawyer slams her weight forward to keep the lid closed, arms shaking the longer she holds off her creation. “Think you could spare me the extra appendages?”

Willow sighs and sets down the gauze. “Wait one second. I’ll be right back to fix you up.” Without wasting another second, she whirls around and rushes over to the vat (tripping over several misplaced objects on the ground in the process). She steps up on the stool next to the container and pushes down on the lid just as some fingers are wiggling through the crack. The creature within howls, causing Willow to wince in sympathy and mutter an apology. “Gee, Soy, what the heck are you making?”

“A friend.” She grunts out her reply with a severe amount of ease for someone who is smashing down on a “friend’s” fingers. “Oh, William, don’t give me that look! I, unlike Victor Frankenstein, have read Frankenstein and have taken the message to heart.” She tents her fingers over her chest, sticking her nose up into the air with the superiority of someone who has learned the important morals of a science fiction classic but perhaps not the lessons of hubris from certain icarian tragedies. “My creature shall have a beauteous name and will be my friend, no matter how horrifically ugly. I shan’t run away in terror.” She slams down hard on the lid. Muffled screeching echoes from inside the vat. “Say, would you like to co-parent this creature with me?”

Willow’s lip is half curled, mouth parted, with wide eyes. She starts to shake her head, because there is no way she is going to parent, let alone co-parent, a creature of mysterious and possibly unethical origins. However, before she can protest, the the vat starts belching unceasingly, bubbles spilling and frothing out of the cracks; little zaps of lightning escape, some shocking both casters as they struggle against the creature within. Zap, zap!

“I put the essence of a horse’s strength and the unbridled rage of a chihuahua into this one,” Sawyer explains. “William, I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed more appendages. I can’t cast the seal if the lid is not just so.”

“R-right.” Willow wheezes, arms trembling against the creature banging on the lid. Clang. Clang. Clang. Her eyes flit around the room, making sure that Juliet is otherwise distracted before she drops one hand to her keychain. With two quick taps, two pieces of the mirrorball detach and fly to either side of the sorceress, growing to the size of two full length mirrors. Sawyer nods at Willow, leaning over the vat to further secure the lid with her body weight, allowing Willow to let go to cast. Hurriedly, she opens the glyphs in her palms and flicks them towards the reflections, quickly leaning forward to resume her post at the lid.

The mirrors’ surface becomes sheet like and a pair of searching, reaching, grabbing hands push through each reflection, followed by metallic curly-cue heads mirroring none other than Willow James herself. (Pun intended.) The two mirror-Willows nod to each other and rush to join Original Willow™, standing on either side of her and pressing down on the lid. The gap around the lip of the container finally shuts as the four of them hold it down; the three Willows all clench their teeth, huffing, six arms burning. Sawyer lets go, then bounces up onto the countertop. She points the handle of her cane towards the rim and the silver wolf head lifts so that it's facing forward.

“Alakazam!” The wolf's maw opens wide and a bright red laser beam shoots out from it, sealing the lid to the vat. (No, Sawyer did not need to yell alakazam. She’s just like this.) Now it’s the vat that shakes threateningly. The Not Bees and vat rattle at the same time. “They’re ripening. Shh, shh.” The lanky woman flops over the freshly sealed container and wraps her arms around it, rubbing its sides lovingly.

The Willows all step back and heave out a collective sigh, high fiving each other before Original Willow™ snaps her fingers and vanishes the mirror images in a puff of smoke. (On her keychain, the missing mirror pieces return to the mirrorball.) She wipes her brow then hurries back over to Juliet’s side. She puts her hands on her hips. “Hey, I said I'd be back." Playfully, she snatches the bandages away from Juliet and takes over as nurse. As she wraps the bandage around Juliet’s arm, her head pops up and she whips around to look at Sawyer, remembering something. “You said something earlier about the Lightless venom and the affliction? Was there more to that?”

“Nothing of note.” She hums softly and pats the side of the vat, kissing the lid one, two, three times. “Just that I need more samples. The venom mutates rather quickly. It’s hard to track it. By far the most chaotic magic I have ever seen and I am me. Wonder whatever that could mean.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet's glances at the gauze Willow (kissed) sets down before watching her leave to spare Sawyer the 'extra appendages' to control her rebellious soup. She briefly considers offering to help as well (Willow does not have six hands, but together they would have four... and then six with the three of them combined) but ultimately decides not to. She hasn't been asked and it seems rather crowded over there with all of the clutter. (And if Sawyer is anything like Millicent, she may be touchy about strangers standing too close to her soup.) Hearing the burbling and the crackling lightning, an entire reel of memories plays through her mind. Millicent summoning the flying eye with 'fireworks', the sight of her rampant spell book gobbling up all the berries she had picked one afternoon, and the giant hand with a mouth in the palm that she once coaxed out of a mushroom circle. It appears Willow has had her own share of these experiences... and it shows the archer why she'd been as resilient and accepting as she was when faced with the witch of the wood's bewildering antics.

Funnel cakes. Juliet busies herself with imagining what such a cake might look like, curious as to whether or not they have a mysterious hole in their centers the same way the cake rings (donuts) do. Or perhaps they are stick-shaped, like the potato branches? Stick-shaped foods seem rather popular on this side as well. Stick-shaped foods or food on sticks. Deciding it may be more efficient, she begins to paw at the bandages again, effectively tangling herself up while daydreaming about all foods she's tried and had yet to try.

Through them, catches a glimpse of what appears to be three Willows. Juliet blinks hard and straightens her posture a touch. A moment later, though, they're gone and the problem is apparently sorted. (Did she just imagine that?) Somewhat caught off guard, all she can do is blush and nod silently when Willow takes the bandages from her and finishes patching her up.

Hard to track. Chaotic. Juliet curls her toes in her new boots. Hopefully it stays that way.

"That said, where precisely did the first transformation take place?" Sawyer asks, continuing to hug the vat with one arm while waving the other to summon a floating pen and notepad. Juliet steels herself for questions. (She's heard them all before. She's ready for them.) "Any comments on the air quality? The temperature? The bandicoot to human ratio?" (Okay... but maybe not that one.)

"It happened at the altar." Juliet mentions, idly tracing the bandages around her arm. Willow James kissed them. "It was storming outside. There were no bandicoots."

"Ah. Was it a sacrifice?" Sawyer muses, leaning forward and raising her eyebrows. The pen pauses above her notepad.

"It was something like that." Juliet says, absentmindedly wrapping her hands around Grace when the fox curls up to full size in her lap. She brushes the pad of her thumb over her scar, brown eyes glazing over as she flashes back to that moment. (How many times has she relived it now?) "The first victim was my fiancé." She bites her lip. Hard. The word burns her mouth. This story-- her story-- already belongs to Amoria and the rest of the kingdoms. Some of her secrets will never be secrets, will never be sacred. "I was marrying a man I didn't love. I had everything to lose... and everything to gain from his disappearance. It didn't take long before the people found their scapegoat." Millicent taught her that one. Scapegoat. (...Admittedly, at first she thought she made it up. Scapegoat.) The word had reminded her of Lavinia Laurence, the day she told her she danced like a goat and the burning determination it'd sparked to prove her wrong.

"I see, I see. That's appropriately dramatic." Sawyer continues nodding as her floating pen scribbles against the notebook with a rhythmic scritch-scratch. Juliet is stiff with tension until she catches a glimpse of the page as it's tilted at a lopsided angle. Instead of taking notes on her story, it seems to be sketching out a complex diagram. (It looks like a spider... or maybe a star of some kind. Or a beast? It's not meant for her-- or perhaps anyone-- to understand.) She exhales softly. At the very least, she doesn't think that her story is being recorded for Evermore's gossip column.

"...I'd say exhaustingly so." Juliet surprises herself with the quiet, dark laugh that follows those words. Perhaps it's refreshing, hearing it all referred to in such a blasé way. This simple honesty is preferable to having the similar, meaner sentiments dressed up in flowery terms to maintain the guise of politeness. The distance-- from that day and from Folklore-- numbs her slightly to what was once her harsh reality.

"But Jameson mentioned that you're considered a heroine of love now? How exactly do you heal the afflictions?" Sawyer rubs circles against the vat as trembles just a touch more wildly. "Shhh, not yet." She peppers it with kisses. Somehow, her distractedness eases Juliet into a question she might have otherwise dreaded. (As much as she dislikes it, she's used to answering them by now. How? Why?) At the witch of the wood's request, she has never told anyone of her involvement in the antidote's creation. And with good reason, too. But in this space...

"I went to the..." The witch of the wood is how Juliet's meant to refer to Millicent outside of the cottage. However, she also remembers what Willow had said about the word 'witch' in Evermore and thinks better of phrasing it that way. "To someone for help. We threw letters into a soup to create antidote arrows." (The logic was throwing her 'desires' into the soup and then turning the soup into arrows. Much like all of the others she'd made for her thus far. 'Your desires to prove your innocence will create the cure.') Juliet assumes that Sawyer understands the ways of soup firsthand and that she does not to explain it much further beyond that. "The antidote was a success. I healed a man on the streets of Amoria in front of several witnesses... and before long, everyone knew that I was the only one in possession of a working cure."

"Hm. So with the involvement of my parallel twin, you cooked up a nutritious alphabet soup with letters. Interesting." Sawyer taps her fingers against the vat one by one, nodding contemplatively. Parallel Twin? Alphabet soup? "Might I take one of these arrows to study?"

"No. I'm sorry, but I cannot give one to you." Juliet shakes her head, instinctively running her hand over her knife pocket. While she'll be forthcoming with her information, she cannot hand over her arrows. For various reasons. (Reason beyond potentially hinting at her involvement, that is.) "My supply is dwindling and the cases have been spreading rapidly across the kingdoms. I need to preserve them..." She looks over at Willow. "At least until we confirm whether or not we've discovered a new method of healing the afflictions."

"Another method? Well, this is getting saucy." Sawyer, while she seems initially disappointed about the arrows, directs her attention to Willow when Juliet does. Her eyes are alight with interest at this new turn, at the very least. "Do tell, William."

 

[starboob]

Someday, Willow hopes to be the soft cloud that breaks all of Juliet’s falls— in the metaphoric sense that she hopes to be a safe person for the archer. While she tells her story with composure, Willow already knows what she shouldn’t and can only imagine what she doesn’t. Her fingers twitch at her side, aching to interlock with Juliet’s. (Would she find comfort in that? Would she think it’s weird? Does she already think Willow is a weirdo?) She shoves them into the pockets of her shorts, keeping her eyes downcast.

Despite the invasive nature of these questions, they are necessary. And for all the ways that Sawyer can be invasive— like feeling up Juliet’s goddess-like arms or etching glyphs into Willow’s camera without asking— she somehow never manages to overstep in the ways that truly matter. (The camera situation did come close.) And, again, her questions are justified. While some are odd, she guesses the weirdo might be trying to put Juliet at ease by throwing in ones that seem irrelevant. (Alternatively, they might be incredibly relevant and Willow is not yet privy as to why the bandicoot to human ratio is pertinent.) All this to say, the sorceress trusts the wizard.

The only thing that unnerves her is the acknowledgement that Sawyer does, in fact, know about the existence of the supernal eater of souls, fondly referred to as Milfred. She doesn’t even dare to hope they never meet, knowing that that wish alone will jinx it. (She trusts both casters individually and has already developed a fondness for Milfred, but them together? Interacting regularly? Willow will need to light some candles to the gods and hope they hear her plea.)

She will need to get Juliet’s opinion on the prospective alliance between the lovely weirdos in their lives later.

Right now, she has to figure out how to summarize their entire experience in the labyrinths— something she hadn’t even thought to mention to Sawyer in all the distraction that comes with being around Sawyer.

“Right.” The sorceress clears her throat and propels herself off of the stack of papers she had been leaning against, unfolding her arms. She waves her hands to clear a space in the cluttered lab to make room for her presentation. (It is important to note that Willow James has not had any time to prepare a presentation and yet.) A chalkboard appears in the clearing and with a snap of her fingers, a piece of yellow chalk materializes to draw out visuals. The piece of chalk taps the board a few times, like it’s doing a 'testing one-two testing,' then begins drawing a schematic of the labyrinths Willow saw through Lucky’s eyes. “The alternate way. Well, we haven’t officially confirmed this since we were mis-yeeted back to the wrong realm, but we believe we figured out where the Lightless go, what happens to them, and how they might be able to transform back into their former form.”

“Mhm, they go to the Afterglow realm.” Sawyer nods, resting against the lid and propping her chin up with her palms. “Very good drawing, but not nearly enough eyeballs.”

“... How did. Nevermind.” She shakes her head in spite of her morbid curiosity. “So the Afterglow is full of—”

“Labyrinths! They are really— oh. Your face is telling me that I have left out what you deem is important information and what I deem Common Knowledge: Sawyer Edition.” She gives an awkward, apologetic smile to meet Willow’s grumpy pinched expression. “Yikes. Okay, I will now practice my acting. This will be great for parenting. Do go on.”

“Alright. So…” Willow then tells the entire account of what happened in Okeanos starting with their initial investigation and the strange phantoms from the past to everything that happened at the banquet. Well, most everything. She leaves out the detail that they had used their thread to ensnare the prince and makes it sound like her magic randomly went haywire. “It really seemed like the labyrinth was trying to get Prince Zander to reflect and reevaluate, because once he accepted he’d been a total walnut,” (“An absolute walnut,” Sawyer agrees.) “He was taken up by this bright yellow light and we were left behind.”

With her thumbs under her chin, hands clasped together, Sawyer taps her lips with her index fingers. It’s unclear whether she is actually puzzling this out in real time or if she is still acting. “Hmm, I see.” She snaps her fingers and conjures up a bankers box over-stuffed with files onto the countertop. Draping her entire body over the soup lid so that she is hanging off of it, she fingers through the files. She triumphantly pulls out a local newspaper and waves it around in such a way that Willow cannot make out the headline. A second later, however, she flicks it over to the sorceress causing it to smack her in the face. “You two are going to have such a great time at the fair.”

When Willow peels the newspaper from her face, it’s just an advertisement for the locals only night at the annual fair. “Is something going to happen tonight? Is Elsewhere going to get its first Lightless?”

Sawyer claps her hands over her mouth and squeaks. “I’ve said too much! Wipe your memories of my folly and remember me only in a perfect image. It’s what I would’ve wanted.” Dramatically, she flips herself over so that she is lying on her back over the lid and drapes the back of one hand over her face. “I just get so excited. It is so lonely being a seer.” She sighs wistfully then bolts upright, crosses her legs, and spins herself around so that she is facing the heroines. (The rate at which Sawyer can move through her emotions is impressive.) “William, your tale leaves me with one question: How does Willow 'I Must Check With the Local Magical Ordinances Before Casting' James mess up a spell as simple as teleporting? You said you meant to remove yourselves to the garden of glory and ended up in the Afterglow instead.”

“Teleporting isn’t that simple,” Willow insists, sounding like she’s repeating an argument she’s had for the one zillionth time.

Sawyer’s response more or less confirms they have had this exact conversation many times before. “It really is that simple. The Prescots made up the dangers of teleporting to sell their little Presto products. They're like bottled water or indoor plumbing. Entirely useless.”

“You know what…” Willow pinches the bridge of her nose then holds her hands up in surrender. “Never mind all of that. I’m… I’m not entirely sure what went wrong with my spell.” This isn’t entirely true either. She looks over at Juliet with uncertainty, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It’s just Sawyer. Sawyer really and probably won’t care. (But Meredith will and she can already tell she’s digging herself an eighteen foot grave.) “The only interference that I can think of would be that we used our thread to restrain the Lightless before I teleported us away.”

The pen scritching out Sawyer’s notes pauses and appears to look up and then between the two heroines. It quickly dips back down and continues scribbling like nothing happened. (Willow catches a glimpse of the notepad and, as per usual, it’s indecipherable. She’s not even convinced Sawyer is taking notes.) Unlike her pen, Sawyer does not react. “Inch resting. I was under the impression that you two had a spider tagalong. Quite disappointed this isn’t the case.” She rests her cheek against the vat. “I can’t say that tangling Lightless to realm hop is the most efficient method, but I suppose there is a stroke for every folk as the saying goes.”

“Say, Juliet...” Sawyer tilts her head curiously. However, when she addresses Juliet, she actually is looking at Grace, having seemed to finally become aware of the fox’s presence. Her ears perk and she flashes a toothy grin, showing off her enlarged were-canines. Then she drops the grin in favor of something more serious. “Have you ever found the first, second, or third Lightless? Or, generally, have you noticed any differences or changes in the Lightless of now compared to the firsts? More teeth? Too many teeth? Unbearable or intolerable flatulence? Mood swings? Do they come in different colors?"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet lapses into a pensive silence as Sawyer and Willow discuss the Labyrinths, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief that her attempt to temporarily shift the attention away from herself was a success. For now. This peace rarely ever lasts and she knows from experience to be sensible with these fleeting moments. Settle anything unsettled in her, hold her past self down until she drowns and sinks below the surface. Afterglow. She considers this new term, stroking Grace's back with one hand while rolling the tiny alien buddy around in the other. These are the tethers that connect her to the present, keeping the past behind her where it should stay. Afterglow. There's some hope to be taken from that name, isn't there? Her ambitions do not revolve around stealing heart glows. Perhaps it might appear that way on the surface surface level... but they've seen for themselves that after the transformation, it isn't truly gone. Just hidden. And those who consider it a worthwhile task to find it again will also find their way back.

Millicent had brought up the realms once when they discussed the Lightless and Juliet had been rather lost. (A lot like she is now, during this conversation regarding teleportation.) However, having experienced the Labyrinths herself, she now feels she possesses a deeper understanding of what she meant back then. Experience has always been a better teacher to her than spoken lectures. This has come through even in her own teaching style, when Willow expressed her desire to learn to fight.

The mention of their thread draws Juliet back in. Her heart stutters as she glances from Willow to Sawyer and then down at Grace in her lap. She hasn't brought it up herself beyond suggesting that they use it in battle thus far. While she believes her own thread cursed, her silence hasn't been entirely intentional either. It isn't commonplace to discuss one's thread in Folklore. At least not among the nobles, who often ignore the reality of their threads lest they benefit them in some way. Princess Elise once disclosed the fact that there are some kings who never produce an heir and host numerous festivals or parties find their 'one true love' in order to take that person in as a mistress who might provide them with one in secret, all while forcing their queens to hide from the public eye. Time has told that unions forged of love are much more successful at producing healthy heirs than those without. Princess Elise, having studied other royals thoroughly, vowed from that point that she wouldn't force her true love to hide in the shadows. That she wants to bring them out into the light, embrace them openly, and have everyone in her kingdom know it.

...And that's exactly what she has done, despite knowing the risks. Thinking of Elise, Juliet guiltily considers what she must be going through in the aftermath.

Say, Juliet. The sound of her name as well as the feeling of Grace's ears perking up against the back of her hand draws Juliet back into the present conversation.

"His eyes were red." Juliet muses softly, standing at the altar in her mind. Then she blinks, snapping herself out of a five-second reverie. "The first, I mean. Brooks. His eyes were red." She shakes her head, remembering the sight of her own reflection flashing in them as he towered over her. The way she stood still while everyone screamed and fled. Everyone except for... 'Juliet, move!' Grace nuzzles against her comfortingly. She clears her throat, steeling herself again. Not now. "He ran into the wood as if in a trance and I have not seen him since. I searched tirelessly." That's true. She searched for a year even when she didn't want to. He didn't deserve it, no... but there really was a time where she wanted to prove herself. Enough that she would have faced him. (But that resolve... it wasn't enough. And that's when she realized nothing would ever be.) "I have an idea of where the Lightless go when they venture too far into the wood. But it's--" She looks at Willow. "The Cursed Ruins. They're corrupted beyond repair, nearly impossible to navigate. Wraith's Valley pales in comparison."

Juliet wouldn't have made it out of there alive, if not for... well. It's still a blur, really. From the second she stepped foot within the ruins, her perception of reality shattered like glass. One cannot keep their mind sound in the Cursed Ruins. Millicent had given her quite the lecture when she awoke in her cottage. It had sunk in just how dangerous it is, if even the witch of the wood is wary of it.

"Their physique remains mostly constant. We've learnt recently with Prince Zander that there's an aquatic variant of those we've encountered on land, however. They resemble beastly shadows... but they can possess colorful claws, spikes and markings that match their eyes in color. In my experience, I have seen those with blue, yellow, green, and violet eyes." And red. Red, red, red. "...Red and violet are the most vicious." Juliet takes another breath to ground herself. Red, red, red. "The longer they remain in that form, the fiercer and smarter they become. Their bodies, spikes and teeth may also grow in size. In the worst cases, their colors can shift at will." She bites her lip. "The Lightless rarely set out to hurt anyone unless they outright attack them or obstruct their path to the ruins. I had never seen or heard of them hunting travelers until recently. Much less in packs, like those Willow and I encountered."

That's the most concerning development thus far. It's almost as if something has agitated them, provoking them to attack. Juliet might not have taken this path were that the case earlier. Now she's in too deep. There are women (and even some men) in Folklore depending on her. People who have been trapped, just like her. However, she needs to figure out why this change is transpiring. What she can do to stop it from ruining everything.

"Gee willikers." Sawyer shakes her head. Then she smiles, peering around the lab as if to ensure that no one is listening in on them, and then continues conspiratorially. "Learned that one from my parallel twin." Then she glances at Willow, eyebrows and ears raised. "Do you prefer that moniker, William? Willikers?"

Then she bats her notebook away, crosses her arms, and nods sagely. "Seems like you two have more than just cake on your plates." She leans against the vat, twirling her cane. "...Now, just one more question." (For now, Juliet assumes.) "For today. I have approximately a thousand and seventy eight foreseeable questions logged for the future. Alas. How long has it been since the first incident occurred?"

"...Almost two years." Juliet offers quietly, feeling quite drained. At least this is it for now.

"So this Brooks bastard has been a Lightless for almost two years now." Sawyer gives a low whistle. "He ought to be losing touch with his humanity... if he ever possessed it to begin with. Debatable. Debatable at best. Bet he's gonna be a nightmare to fight." Then she quickly covers her eyes with her hands. "No, I won't look. I won't say a word."

Juliet shifts uncomfortably at the thought of facing Brooks again... but it's when Grace trembles that she steels herself and holds her companion closer. I won't let him touch you again, Gracie. I swear. The archer takes a moment to ground herself before glancing at Willow. "...Do we have everything we need?"

 

[starboob]

Let it be known to all that Willow James does not prefer the moniker William, Willy, Willikers, or anything of the sort. Sawyer gets away with it only because she is Sawyer. Most others in her life choose to use the monikers sparingly rather than religiously. (But Sawyer claims there is great power in a name and that one should only give their names to those who will breathe power into it, rather than tear it between her teeth. Grandma Elva agreed with the sentiment and also reassured Willow she would be fine announcing herself so long as she presents herself with intention. Willow James still isn’t sure whether or not she is solid in that, but it has not stopped her from breaking the habit. She is Willow James, heroine of love, apprentice to Carmilla le Roux, and dork extraordinaire.)

Not that that clarification even matters, but to instead focus on everything else? Dread pools in her stomach and slowly hardens like cement. ‘Two years.’

And in two hours, days, weeks, they could happen upon Brooks. (Her blood boils remembering the way Lavinia Laurence referred to him as Juliet’s dear. Either she didn’t know about his true nature or, more than likely, didn’t care.) Sawyer’s assessment of what he must be like now inspires no confidence. Juliet is more than capable, sure, but if the Lightless are traveling in packs, if they get smarter and stronger over time, if Brooks has lost the little humanity he might have possessed (debatable, she agrees), who is to say she can take that all by her lonesome? Who is to say she’ll be able to keep a clear head upon seeing that monster again?

Willow James needs to do better.

When they make it back out to the car, with her film supplies and a worm on a string in tow, Willow takes a moment to look over at Juliet, quietly assessing where the archer's head might be at. Almost two years. Willow James of all people knows that time, mysterious time, doesn’t always heal at the rate one wishes.

She opens her mouth to say something. She turns on the radio instead.

“Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?”

‘Good question, Freddie.’ Her mind goes back to the Lightless. Then to their thread. Then to Milfred’s cottage. (“The Lightless are drawn to your light.”) Milfred characterized the Lightless as mindless back then, blindly following a source like an asteroid falling into orbit. But Willow suspects that there is something else, something greater, pulling their strings. They’re looking for something. Why else hunt in packs? Why else work together?

It unnerves her that they targeted them when their string has proven to be so strange already. She wonders who else out there might have strings or glows that grab the Lightless’ attention. (She cannot even begin to place where that entity from Mirror Lake might fit into all of this, but connections are tying themselves together in her mind whether she wants them to or not.)

As they pass by the crumbling spire, the one Willow failed to mention during their first pass through the city, she points it out now. The ruins are covered in a black growth, almost like ivy made of shadows. “That’s the spire for No Name. He was a god, but no one knows of what. Just that he was part of the original seven.” Given that seven spires can be counted from any part of the city, it goes without saying he’s been replaced. “Whatever his crimes were, it remains between the seven. Not even Sawyer has been able to pinpoint an era where it might have occurred.” But Sawyer also says the gods run on a more complex timeline that doesn’t really look like a line but more like… Well, she scribbled all over a piece of paper until it was covered and said it was more like that. All the time and none of the time. Willow still doesn’t understand weaving.

Outside of that, Willow doesn’t say much the rest of the way back to the Rhode Island home. When they do arrive back, she takes them straight up to her room and, with a few flicks of her hands, she has her room converted into a dark room for her film. She has Juliet assist her, mostly relying on the taller woman to hang up the photographs for her. By the time they finish with the film, Willow is only able to write a short message to Meredith before they’re off to the fair.

To save on time, Willow has them teleport directly to the fairgrounds using a trusty Presto Path. (Sawyer’s argument from earlier still rings in her ears, as it usually does whenever they get into an argument over the Prescots’ transportation products. Still, she’s too cautious to forgo the protected paths.) The fairgrounds are set up partially on the boardwalk then bleed into the adjacent street and parking lot, sprawling out to create what appears to be a mini-village of striped tents, vendors, and rides all lined with colorful neon lights. However, the lights aren't so striking now with the lilac skies still clinging to the last dregs of sunlight. Children scream and push past them while exhausted parents shout after them and apologize. The smell of hot oil, street meats, and sugar wafts through the air, beckoning passersby.

The boardwalk features most of the popular attractions like the ferris wheel, carousel, bumper cars, as well as a smattering of rollercoasters. The street and parking lot area contain most of the striped tents, game stalls, and assortment of vendors. There are signs that boast the world’s largest unicorn, fortune tellers (scam artists, according to Sawyer), and face-painting stations. Then there are the rows and rows of game stalls that Willow knows are all thinly veiled scams. (Well, Willow may or may not just be bitter because most of these games rely on some serious hand-eye coordination and she distinctly lacks that quality.)

Having purchased a sizeable portion of tickets at the counter, Willow hands Juliet a fan of tickets. “These are the fair’s currency and we can always get more if we run out. The first order of business: food. Then we can play some games and maybe check out the mazes or house of mirrors.” This will ensure that their food has some time to settle before… “Then it’s roller coaster time.” She grins brightly, pointing backwards to a rather threatening looking wooden contraption. Or maybe it’s just the shrill shrieks that make it seem threatening… As well as the way it violently creaks and jangles from side to side like it might collapse if someone so much as sneezes in the wrong direction. But it’s totally safe. Otherwise Willow James would not get on it. “Grace, you won’t be allowed on the bigger rides, but you can wait with Lucky and the other companions. Juliet’ll be with me and there’s lots of security and safety measures at these events.” The two security guards behind her do not look all that invested in their jobs, for the record. Willow either doesn’t see this or chooses not to address this.

Rather, she pulls on Juliet’s arm and excitedly parades her through the fair. "Turkey legs and funnel cakes await!"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet, despite never having been to an Evermore faire before, has passed through her fair share (...no pun intended) of them on her travels. (These events often draw her targets out and the rambunctious crowds in unfamiliar towns allow her to blend in, so long as she's careful.) She's walked through rows upon rows of droopy tents, sheltered by canopies of old branches strung with sparkling firefly lights. Villagers, artisans and traveling merchants sell assortments of candles, weapons, clothes and 'protective' jewelry... and, of course, there are also farmers and bakers who sell their delicious homemade foods. Some of the festivals hold jousting tournaments while others host competitions for fishing or the finest crops of the season. (The strawberry festival was her favorite among these. The prize-winning strawberry was fascinating-- twice as large as a human heart and the archer had never wanted so badly to steal anything in her life. This town also contained a section of strawberry houses, which she was rather disappointed to discover were not real strawberries. She wonders if she will experience that same feeling of betrayal if she investigates the floating hole-cake over Wilco's.) Live music and dancing is almost always present at these events, as they do not have the boxy machines that magically produce music in Folklore. Like this faire, she has encountered a few where fortunes can be told with valkyrie feathers-- although they have become rarer recently, mostly contained within villages that are far enough away from the kingdoms with the royals paranoia of witches. No large unicorns, though. Everyone in Folklore knows that they only appear in brief apparitions before those whose ancestors have been bestowed with the faerie gift for it. As far as attractions go, there was one festival with sculpted wooden slides (taking artistic inspiration from those spiraling along the side of pixie tree houses) and a few others that offered swan-boat rides on picturesque flower-framed lakes.

With all of her experience, Juliet has never laid eyes upon anything like the rickety, stilted machines framing this faire. They clap and thunder and people scream as they're carted around sharp corners and heedlessly dropped from great heights. (She already hates it.) Willow James points at it, however, and claims that after the food it will be 'roller coaster time'. (The sorceress informed her that her arrows must remain at the house... and it seems it is not urgent that they rescue the people from the roller coaster, because it is not their priority before the food and games. Juliet isn't sure what 'roller coaster time' entails, but she's relieved that she still has her knife.) The noise adds to the rest of the attractions, the warbling of mingled conversations and combating music flowing in from every conceivable direction.

Juliet can loosely compare the fast-paced commotion here to the neon-colored festivals that sold generous quantities of ale and were strictly purposed for adults. However, the children weaving around them also inform her that this is not an event of that sort. While she sees parallels, there are several differences to what she's used to and once more, she finds herself much at a loss as Willow James leads her through the crowd.

While waiting at a picnic bench for Willow to return with their food, Juliet idly rolls Scaramouch (formerly known as tiny alien buddy) on the table between her hands. (She is rather surprised that of all the music she has heard thus far that it is the queen's music that she enjoys the most. Willow had graciously played more of it for her while they developed the photos after she expressed an interest.) When the archer mentioned her interest in trying the potato sticks covered in gooey cheese, the sorceress had paused and taken a moment to make a list of what she was interested in before assuring her she would communicate their orders to the vendors while she 'saves them a spot'. She anxiously lifts her head (causing Gracie to follow suit by lifting her ears) every time a new wave of screams accompanies a big, sweeping whoosh. Rather than eagerly anticipate the incoming food, her stomach turns and twists in knots. What is 'roller coaster time?' What does it mean? While walking by a few of the queues, the archer had even noticed some children standing there. Surely if children can handle it she can as well. Even so...

...What are funnel cakes? Or is it fennel cakes? Oh. Gracious. That is a possibility, isn't it? Juliet hopes that they aren't fennel cakes. While she appreciates the sweetness that fennel can lend to a soup or stew, she is dubious that they could be sweet enough to sweeten a cake. Based on the other foods on display here, she presumes that Willow must know what she is talking about here. (Unless she means to play a trick... and she does not suspect her as being the sort to play such tricks.) Briefly, she finds herself wishing she could have another special brownie. That might help her relax before 'roller coaster time'. And whatever else that Sawyer might have been forebodingly hinting for their evening.

Thankfully, the crispy, white-powdered cake that Willow presents Juliet with is not, in fact, filled with fennel. Instead it's warm and soft (with an appealing crunchy but not too crunchy exterior) and shaped like a sprawling, deep-sea coral reef. Each piece she rips off leaves her fingertips with a dusting of sugar. It's bliss. It's wonderful. She also quite enjoys the cheese potato sticks and the turkey legs. When Willow catches her staring at a fairgoer eating a bright pink cloud on a stick, she mentions that they can end the night with another dessert after they've gone on the rides-- whether that be ice cream, candied apples, an enormous bag of popcorn or cotton candy. (...They eat clouds in Evermore. It takes the archer a moment to process this information.)

They proceed to walk around the striped tents as the sky turns dark, causing all the hanging lights, rides and signs to brighten up in contrast. Juliet can't help gazing at the game stalls with open curiosity as they pass-- each one staffed with a uniformed person who yells prompts or jeers into the crowd of onlookers. "C'mon, give it a try! Only a buck ninety-five!" Oversized toys hang above these stalls, but the archer has only seen one person in the crowd dragging one around thus far. However, they seem especially coveted as children beg their parents to try winning them. There are people attempting to knock over milk bottles with baseballs (and seldom succeeding), a line of people shooting water at targets while lightbulbs flicker to life up a board towards a red buzzer, people throwing rings at bottles. Many clanging before bouncing off and provoking a slew of curses. Children are seen kneeling before blown up pools, picking up tiny duck buddies with numbers written on their undersides. Then-- at last-- there is an empty stall containing a wall of colorful balloons. It seems, much like baseball, these games are open to anyone brave enough to try their luck. This includes Juliet, it seems, as Willow suggests they give the 'pop-a-balloon' a go since it isn't too crowded.

Willow explains that Juliet must pop a balloon as she is handed four darts to throw. The archer nods and successfully pops four balloons with her four darts. 'Pop, pop, pop, pop!' These shots are accomplished in rapid succession, forming a perfect straight line, leaving the teen in glasses at the stall struggling to pick their jaw up off the ground. "Hooooly shit." Their voice cracks as they scrub a hand over their sweaty forehead. "Dude!"

"Holy shit?" Juliet echoes, confused. The teen shakes their head, asks her which prize she would like, and she points at the giant green dragon. (Primarily because there are no foxes.) She automatically hands it over to Willow before holding her own hand out expectantly for more darts. "...I would like to try this again, please. Dude."

Juliet is only allowed to win four more prizes before the teen at the stall awkwardly explains to Willow that they're putting an exclusive limit on Juliet because they'll be 'fresh out of prizes' (and balloons) by the end of the night if she continues to play like this. The stall is now bustling with people... the archer does not fully realize that she's the one responsible as they gathered around to watch as she was handed one giant prize after the next. (She ends up handing her extra prizes out to the children who want them-- including one of Willow James's small cousins from the night before.) Other people boldly try, claiming sourly that 'she made it look easy' when they fail to do the same.

When Willow asks, Juliet informs her that the first dragon is for her. (Mainly because she does not want to carry it... and also because it is a dragon.) They proceed to investigate the 'house of mirrors' (a place that Juliet presumes Millicent would enjoy immensely for the ridiculous warped reflections it portrays) and also rode the carousel. Once Willow reassures her that the horses on this ride were not impaled and cursed, Juliet discovers that she actually likes this one. She selects a midnight black horse wearing majestic armor and a wreath of roses. The ride is relaxing, despite the boisterous organ music playing around them, rocking her up and down in a way that's reminiscent of taking a peaceful boat down a river.

And then, all too soon, they are in line for 'roller coaster time'. Juliet at least takes some pride in being taller than the 'you must be this tall to ride' sign that they pass... but as they stand in it, she shifts unsurely from one foot to the next, biting her lip while staring up at the menacing, towering, stilted beast. (...She has her knife. She will not hesitate to stab it if it threatens her.) "What is it like...?" She asks warily before clarifying. "Roller coaster time?"

 

[starboob]

Willow squeezes Auggie, the plush green dragon, close to her chest, swiveling her hips as they wait in the winding and never-ending line for a ride aptly named HEARTSTOPPER. The signs around them all boast the legendary one hundred foot drop and advise pregnant passengers to be cautious. Children excitedly talk about the prospect of being launched off the tracks like the local legends from the 70s. Of all the attractions that line the boardwalk, this one is her favorite, for it provides two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of pure structured adrenaline.

It’s also been years since Willow James has gone to the fair and actually participated in the whole shebang. Her most recent experiences have mostly been chaperoning her younger cousins when the aunties and uncles are too tired. While she does end up on the rides with them, most are still too small for the bigger ones that she prefers. However with Juliet? With Juliet there is no reason to spare her the experience (though Willow would never force her onto any of the rides if she were to express apprehension).

As she hugs on Auggie, still blushing over the fact that Juliet August won her a prize, she belatedly registers her question and has to blink a few times to fully process. “Huh?” Part of her is still, once again, processing that of all the plush companions Juliet could have selected— from wolves to winged lions to eagles— she chose the dragon. She can’t help but to read into that. ‘Focus, WJ, she asked you a question!’

“Oh, right, they probably don’t have roller coasters in Folklore.” She taps on her chin as she thinks of an explanation. “They’re just rides that jerk, jostle, jangle you around on a track. Some are windy and swirly; others are full of ups and downs; and the very best ones have a nice mixture of the two.” She goes onto explain that HEARTSTOPPER is the most popular ride at the Elsefaire and that she would have saved it for last, but the line can get so obnoxiously long that she thought it better to strategically line up when the timer indicated they’d only have to wait approximately twenty-minutes.

By the time she finishes her explanation, her rowdy tweenage cousins have shoved through the line and appear right behind Willow and Juliet, greeting them with the widest grins like they haven't just cut in line. Quickly, they rope them into a conversation before the disgruntled fairgoers behind them or Willow “Follow the Rules” James can say something about line-hopping. Olive successfully gets Willow to answer a question about illusion magic and Cypress keeps it going by asking what Carmilla is like to work with and if she really is capable of freezing people with a glare. Then they both quiz Juliet on what other sports she's good at— this also involves explaining each sport, leading to a lengthy discussion on why soccer isn't called football and why football is even called football.

And not before long, they’re all filing into the same minecart— Juliet and Willow at the front, twins in the back. Willow buzzes excitedly in her seat as the attendant checks their buckles and lowers the lap bar in front of them.

“For your safety, please keep hands, feet, wings, tails, and all other appendages inside the cart at all times.”

After a three-count countdown, they’re launched along the tracks. Pixie and faerie operators alike zip alongside them, their tiny glowing bodies appearing as nothing more than colorful streaks of light in the covered sections of the ride. While one could assume they might be there for safety, one shoots Juliet a particularly wicked grin, wiggles her fingers under her chin, and then grabs onto the minecart, along with several other faeries, and glitches them through time and space, bringing them to a breakneck speed. It’s all blurs and screams after that.

Willow, Olive, and Cypress are trembling when they exit the ride and speak incoherently between themselves as they collect their loose belongings from the cubbies. The twins run off to the next ride and Willow touches her arm, remembering that Juliet had grabbed it right before the biggest drop. She grins and looks backwards towards the archer (who looks quite pensive for someone who just experienced her first roller coaster). “Wasn’t that amazing? I slipped the ride operators some shinies so that they’d make sure our cart hit top speed.”

They then go to check out the photograph that was taken at the end of the ride for a cheap giggle. Although Willow ends up being more impressed over the fact that her cousins managed to pose and stage an entire chess match behind them. She has no idea how they accomplished that. Her distraction over this barely gives her enough time to admire the photographic evidence that Juliet August grabbed onto Willow James's arm while hold a knife. Wait. What? Before she can properly inspect that, the photos from their ride shift to the next group and Willow decides to shrug it off. 'She wouldn't seriously pull a knife on a rollercoaster.' Of course, she totally did try to shoot a fire truck with her bow and arrows... Eh, she decides not to fret over this and drags them over to the less thrilling rides— like fireball, the viking ship, sizzler, tornado, the tea cups, and so on.

As the hours sink later into the night, the screaming children leave with their parents and unaccompanied teenagers with hyena laughs replace them in the crowd. Though teenagers make her nervous and always will, she still fondly remembers when that hyena laughter belonged to her, Meredith, and the other cove kids. “My friends and I used to—”

For the second time since Juliet August has known Willow James, she once again gets to watch her run smack into someone. The sorceress stumbles backwards, immediately hit with the smell of tequila now soaking her clothes.

“Fucking blind twat. Do you have any idea who this is?” The woman sneers and gestures to her top. “This is a custom Pascal Laurent. That means it’s worth more than you’ll ever fucking see in your insignificant troglodyte life. You better fucking fix this before it's fucking ruined.”

Oh no. Willow stiffens. No. She closes her eyes, mentally groaning before she looks up and confirms her worst fear staring her in the face. Piercing blue eyes that can reach into one’s soul and pinpoint insecurities with such precision it could put Juliet’s sharp eye to shame are blazing into Willow’s green ones. That searing gaze pans down to look at her diamond mesh crop top and soaked midriff, still in disbelief.

Kinsley Prescot.

“S-Sorry.” Willow mutters, visibly shrinking back before she cleans up the socialite with a quick flick of her wrist. Silently, she prays that the other woman doesn’t remember her. “Wasn’t looking where I was going—”

"Oh my fucking gods." Kinsley raises a carefully sculpted brow. She pops a hip to the side and crosses her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here, stalker?”

“It’s the fair, Kinsley.” Willow shrugs helplessly, blood rushing to her head and causing the world to spin. There’s no winning with Kinsley Prescot. (And is she really still talking about the stalker rumor? She knows it's not true!) “People do go to the fair. It's not that deep.”

“Excuse me for trying to be careful around a watcher psychopath.” Her gaze flits over to Juliet for a second and stays on her, seeming to put together that she must be with Willow. “I'd say have fun with the lovefool, but that's not really the issue. So just watch your back.” Kinsley smirks, satisfied with herself and ready to make her exit. Willow eagerly waits for it, too, knowing that it will mean she’s gone. Except, neither Kinsley nor Willow gets what they want.

“Willow James!” A dulcet voice wades through the roar around them— soft, pleasant, summery. Willow’s heart stutters. She turns, eyes easily finding the tall strawberry blonde, a halo of gold light framing her (literally). Her strawberry blonde locks are pulled back into a fishtail braid that hits just below her waist; strands of colorful locks are woven into the pattern, making the braid look like a pastel rainbow. She's in her signature powder blue, wearing it as a billowy dress today. And she's smiling. She's smiling at Willow James just like she used to.

Dorothea Birdsong closes the short distance between herself and the group, her eyes never leaving the sorceress. It's only when she's up close that Willow notices the severe bruises under her eyes, her sunken cheeks, that make her appear almost hollow. “Have you been avoiding me?" The question is playful and complemented by her teasing smile, but Dorothea Birdsong is serious. She has always had a disarming way of being direct. A way of putting anyone effortlessly at ease. "I thought our unbreakable bond as camp counselors meant something to you?”

Willow chuckles nervously and rubs the back of her neck, stealing a glance at Juliet before returning her attention to Dorothea. "It wasn't totally on purpose." That is true, Willow needed her space. Though it's also true that it went on for longer than anticipated and, after a certain point, Willow just didn't know how to reach out again. And she tried. There's a shoebox full of proof hidden under her bed. "Um, good thing we ran into each other?"

“Gods. Yawn." Kinsley inspects her manicure, rolling her eyes. "Dorothea, are you done catching up with your poor friends? People who actually matter are waiting for us.“

“Kinsley!” It’s rare Dorothea ever snaps. It’s rare anyone ever snaps at Kinsley. But if Dorothea is going to snap and if Kinsley is going to be snapped at, it’ll be at Dorothea’s discretion. She shoots the ravenette a disapproving look before taking notice of Juliet. “Oh, I don’t believe we’ve met?” She tilts her head and sticks out her hand, a warm smile on her lips. ”I’m Dorothea Birdsong. Willow and I went to school together.” What else she and Willow used to get up to she doesn’t mention and Willow takes note, bitterly. Her violet gaze trails down Juliet again, stopping at her boots. Her smile widens. “I like your boots. They're bitchin.'" When she offers the compliment, it’s genuine. Dorothea never lies and she always finds things to like in others. That’s probably why she still hangs out with Kinsley Prescot. It’s probably why she accepts Griffith King. Willow has always thought that if Dorothea Birdsong has one flaw, it is this.

She does another once over of the archer, then nudges Kinsley (who still looks irritated). "Kins, don’t you think she’d look good in the Pantera jacket?”

Kinsley snorts, then throws her head back, openly laughing at the idea. But Dorothea doesn't smile or laugh. When the socialite realizes the celebrity is serious, her amusement drops and is replaced by an incredulous look. “Oh, shit. You’re serious? Dorthorea. Absolutely not." She gestures emphatically over Juliet's everything. "She’s a gutter rat. Just look at her. Her hair's a mess, she's got bandages on her arms probably because she realized how sad her fucking life is, and her style is completely tacky— I can handle cheap, but this is just tragic. It would take a fucking fairy godmother to fix her..." Kinsley pretends to search for the right word then sucks in harshly. "Everything."

"I'm sorry about her." Dorothea quickly apologizes to Juliet, rolling her eyes with a nervous laugh. "She's never experienced a real problem in her life." While she has always been the one who is most adept at handling the socialite, it doesn't mean it always works or that it's an easy task. Willow has never understood why she puts up with it. Dorothea turns to Kinsley. "Kinsley, think about this pragmatically. We can be her fairy godmothers. You love makeovers." Kinsley nods, though she still seems livid with the direction this conversation is going. "The jacket will kill on her at the gala. Pantera will be happy. You boost your portfolio as an influencer."

"I worked my ass off to get that deal for you..." She eyes Juliet again, this time more slowly, and while her arms remain crossed, she at least straightens out her posture. "This is going to take hell to pull off— I mean, she's a nobody, Dorothea. The gala is next week. Even I can't make her relevant in a week. Besides, she's from the fucking boons, probably. She won't make it."

"She's actually from the other side." Willow mutters, for some reason thinking that this clarification is necessary. Though it's more likely that she doesn't realize she's using her outside voice. Immediately she regrets saying anything at all, because four eyes are all on her now and they quickly hop over to Juliet. Oops.

"No fucking way." Kinsley lifts a brow, dropping her hands to her hips. "Say something, other sider."

 

[ellarose]

She's never experienced a real problem in her life. From Juliet's perspective, this 'Kinsley' certainly carries herself like a real problem. The sort who is so bored that all she can do is create them for others. (Just like...) The conversation carries on while the comparison sticks in the archer's mind and crawls under her skin like something properly disgusting-- like maggots. She recalls Willow mentioning having known someone similar after confronting Lavinia Laurence for the first time and wonders if this is who she was referring to. While she catches most of the conversation that follows, she isn't truly present in the moment with the rest of them until her 'other-sider' status is brought up. Now those sharp blue eyes are boring into her... but if this woman is a knife, then Juliet is water. Unaffected but liable to boil over if heated enough.

Juliet spares Kinsley little more than a disinterested, cursory glance (which is already more than she deserves) before settling her full attention on Willow instead. If there is anything Juliet August will never do, it's obey a command issued by pretentious women like Lavinia or Kinsley. They fancy control... but if she wishes to take it from her, she'll have to work a lot harder to pry it from her cold, dead hands. She will speak, she supposes, but pointedly refuses to pay attention to Kinsley.

“Must I?” Juliet asks Willow, keeping her voice low but loud enough that Dorothea and Kinsley can still hear it. “…If that sauce-box keeps talking about me, I'll break her nose.” She believes it's fair to give her visibly nervous companion this warning before she acts on the impulse. It's fully evident from the guarded look in her brown eyes that she's serious about enacting this threat if she must. It has taken much of the restraint she has built up over the years not to start with her fists. (Mother would be proud, she supposes.) However, this is Evermore. She is not among nobles in Amoria and could feasibly do so here without the same consequences. With that in mind, she has done so with Lavinia Laurence and will not hesitate if Kinsley continues to test her patience.

Kinsley's mouth hangs open for a beat, though she recovers quickly and a snappy counterattack is no doubt forming on her tongue... but she doesn't manage to get a single word out before Dorothea snorts with a good-natured laugh. When her friend whips her head around to glare at her, she grins and raises her shoulders in an innocuous shrug. "What? It was funny." She teases gently. ("What about that was funny? She just threatened me!") "Sauce-box." Kinsley scoffs at this and rolls her head to the side as if to say 'seriously'? "It's actually kinda cute if you think about it."

"Give me a fucking break." Kinsley sulks, dramatically massaging her temple.

“My name is Juliet August. And it's just as she says... I am from the other side.” Juliet ignores Kinsley and instead directs this at Dorothea, the only one among the two to offer a proper introduction of her own. (She did laugh just then. And she also said her boots were bitchin'... which she assumes is a compliment, since she mentioned liking them in the same breath. While her taste in friends is questionable compared to her taste in clothes, she doesn't seem so bad. In fact...) “Willow arrived in Folklore nearly a moon ago and ever since then we've been traveling across the kingdoms on a quest.”

"A quest? Okay, I'm calling bullshit." Kinsley interrupts, glaring her signature daggers at Juliet before scoffing disbelievingly at Willow. Behind the accusation, however, there does seem to be some part of her still assessing Juliet's physical attributes and working out whether or not she's actually from the other side. "This whole thing reeks of dorks and dragons." She scrunches her nose, gesturing vaugely towards Willow and her stuffed dragon. "Dorothea, she's obviously been blowing you off for some make-believe nerdy shit. They're not worth our time. Let's go already."

"...No, they're not lying. I can tell." Dorothea stays rooted in place, refusing to budge an inch when her friend tugs at her. She glances meaningfully from Juliet to Willow. An unspoken question flashes in her eyes as they linger on the sorceress, none of Kinsley's blatant skepticism having an effect on her sincerity. Setting any curiosity aside for the time being, she smiles once again. "Juliet, it's nice to meet you. Sounds like you and Willow have been busy... I'd love to hear all about your adventures and the other side sometime." Her gaze flits between them again, making this sentiment available to them both, before regarding Kinsley in a knowing manner. "My intuition rarely leads me astray, Kins. She'll be a major draw as an other sider. It's a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity. Are you sure you want to pass this up?"

"Hmmm, let me think..." Kinsley rolls her eyes skyward and it's truly a wonder they haven't rolled off her face yet. It's clear there's a huge part of her that just wants to shut this down and turn the other way. She looks at Juliet again before draping a hand over her face. "Gods. I'll have my work cut out for me with this one." She drags her hand all the way down before cutting her eyes at Willow. "Though I guess all this..." She flaps her hand at the entirety of Juliet's outfit, "Makes sense if she's getting all her style tips from you."

"...I find it amusing that the challenge vexes you so. Messy hair can be brushed, clothes changed, and battle scars covered with sleeves. My lady's maid would certainly have a laugh at your fussing." Juliet mentions with the slight quirk of her lips. (It's true. Angelica would laugh. They're simple fixes. It's when the fine silks are ripped and bloodied that the true problems arise.) She proceeds to pan her gaze over Kinsley with the same amount of judgement that was extended to her before, squinting unsurely at the excess of diamonds gleaming on her short-shirt. “...I don't believe you're capable of giving sound advice yourself. You dress as if begging to be attacked by a magpie.” This isn't an exaggeration. If Kinsley were transported to the wood in Folklore, the giant magpies-- obsessed with all things sparkly-- would likely swoop down and swallow her whole. "This outfit is practical and I can fight in it."

Juliet's eyes gleam dangerously at the thought of fighting, fantasizing about the joy she would derive by punching Kinsley. Still, she reaches within herself once more for self-restraint before the urge takes over. There's no telling what the consequences may be... and there are also several witnesses. She glances at Willow once more, recalling the courtesy she offered her after meeting Lavinia and encountering her barrage of accusations and rumors. While Juliet August does not extend all of her trust to anyone, she decidedly trusts Willow more than she trusts an irritating stranger who reminds her so very much of Lavinia. With that in mind, she resolves not to dwell too much on anything she'd been told before. Stalker. Lovefool. Yet they've been together all day and the sorceress has not mentioned Kinsley even once.

"We are taking a brief rest in Evermore before returning to Folklore. It's rare that we have a night off, so I would rather not squander any more of it on you and your..." Juliet locks eyes with Kinsley. "Everything." It isn't worth their time, is it? Although Dorothea seems nice enough, she gets the impression that her companion would feel better if they excused themselves now. She nods at Willow before tilting her head towards the nearby dessert tents. "...Shall we go now? I'm curious to see what a cloud on a stick tastes like."

 

[starboob]

Dorks and dragons. It’s truly as though Kinsley has never left high school, bringing up nicknames and rumors from practically ten years ago. She squeezes Auggie tighter, looking upwards for any sign of Lucky. She always used to joke with Meredith that she’d train Lucky to belch up bones like hairballs all over Kinsley and, now, she silently wonders if Lucky would be able to pick up on this desire and deliver. It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibilities, though the dragon isn’t in sight. ‘Probably helping hotdog Charley.’

All Willow can do is endure Kinsley’s fire and just pray that the interaction is over quickly. (The one great thing about avoiding Dorothea all of these years has meant she has had a long vacation from Kinsley Prescot.) She balls her hands into fists, but bites her tongue. Better to not say anything at all than to give Kinsley ammunition. Knowing her, she’ll fumble her delivery anyway and give her twice as many things to tease her about. (How is it that the same Willow who plotted against a king cannot stand up for herself in front of high school villains?) While part of her knows Kinsley’s behavior is pathetic— like, how is she twenty-six and acting sixteen still?— she can’t bring herself to pity. Not when shame has moved into the largest home in her gut. Dorks and dragons.

Then there Juliet is, fiery as a sun, sparing Kinsley none of her sharpness and she’s only just met the villain. ‘Why can’t I be more like her?’

The sorceress rubs her cheek when the archer mentions leaving, avoiding both Kinsley and Dorothea’s gaze, and nods. She hasn’t yet addressed her old friend’s invitation to share about their adventures and honestly hasn’t made a decision on whether or not she wants to. Dorothea is kind and she knows the interest in genuine— she can only imagine the fellow romantic’s interest when she finds out the quest is to save love— but Willow’s stomach is in knots over even this interaction. (Of course, those knots might be more Kinsley induced than anything else.) She is content to leave the invitation hanging, but as Kinsley walks away (more like struts) and Willow turns to lead them down dessert row, Dorothea reaches for her arm.

A sizzle of electricity travels up her arm, making the hairs stand on end. Her eyes fall to Dorothea’s hand (why are her fingers covered in nicks?) then travel up to meet her violet eyes.

“Please,” Dorothea implores, looking at both of them. “I know Kinsley is, well, Kinsley, but please come with us to the mall tomorrow. We had it rented out.” The mall. Of course. The mall. (“Meet me behind the mall.”) If this hits Dorothea the same way that it’s hitting Willow, her expression doesn’t betray her.

“I am curious to know what you’ve been up to.” When she says this, she looks directly at Willow, full of sincerity. Then her gaze shifts over to Juliet. “I’m quite impressed with how you handled Kinsley. She can be such a pill.” Somehow, she manages to say this with affection. Again, Willow will never understand why they’re friends because she had thought it was out of mere convenience and proximity, but they have remained close even after high school. Willow reckons they’ve even managed to get closer. “I can tell you’ve left your impression with Kins, too. Though I wouldn’t worry. It’s rare someone is so stimulating and she secretly enjoys the friction. But you don’t have to attend the gala we were talking about. No one will force you regardless of whether or not you like the jacket– which is as bitchin’ as those boots. Seriously, those are great.”

“Dorothea! Conrad said they’re waiting by the house of mirrors.” Kinsley, having realized she was not followed, has whipped back around and links their arms together, pulling the other woman away. Dorothea allows it to happen this time and waves at the heroines. “I hope we see you tomorrow.”

Kinsley narrows her eyes at Dorothea, but whatever exchange happens between the Charming Street women happens when the pair are well beyond earshot. Mostly thanks to the crowd around them. The background chatter seems to come back all at once now that they’re away. (It should be noted that plenty in the crowd do stare at Dorothea, but none really bother her. Elsewhere's celebrity culture is much tamer than, say, the You York scene.)

Willow breathes a heavy sigh of relief, all the tension melting from her shoulders once she is assured they’re far, far away from them. ‘Avoid the house of mirrors.’ She looks to Juliet and juts her chin over to dessert row, leading them over. “Meredith thinks Kinsley is threadless. She claims there’s no other explanation for her callousness.” That started off as a joke between them, but Meredith really started to believe it after Kinsley disappeared at her own birthday party.

“Also, sauce-box?” Willow looks up at Juliet with a wide grin. “That was freaking awesome. So apt, too. You should teach me some more Folklore insults.” She nudges the archer playfully then steps up in line to order cotton candy (she almost calls it 'cloud on a stick' thanks to Juliet) and a rainbow shaved ice for herself. At Juliet’s request, right before they leave dessert row, she also gets the archer another funnel cake.

As the hour is getting closer to closing time and, thus, the firework show, Willow cues them up to go on their last ride for the evening. (Though Willow barely thinks that the ferris wheel counts as a ride, it is super romantic so she’s not going to pass it up.) “I guess I can teach you some Evermore insults if you’d like?” Willow looks over her shoulder, stands on her tippy-toes as she spins around, making sure there are no children in sight or within earshot. She leans in and lowers her voice anyway. “Must insults here are a composition of the fuck word and something else.” Even with the assurance there aren’t kids present, the sorceress keeps her voice low and even whispers the insults in Juliet’s ear because she feels so guilty for saying them. (Her grandmas always taught her that there are better words to use. Though, more than that, she just doesn’t want to sound like her father.)

By the time they slide into their carriage, Willow has taught Juliet most of the 'fuck' based insults and has started to move into the misogynistic category. “If you really want to know how to wield any of these properly or with precision, you should spend an afternoon with my best friend, Meredith. She’s the queen of colorful insults.” Willow still fondly remembers how quickly underclassmen learned to scatter if Meredith Ardent and Kinsley Prescot were within fifty feet of each other. The verbal slaughter was as poetic as it was personal and no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire.

Their carriage jerks as the ride starts, swinging them forward gently despite not being in one of the rocking carriages. (Willow decided to spare them the experience if only because the swing action is rather un-romantic.) “This is probably the second or third best view in Elsewhere.” She grins at the archer, hiding her blush behind Auggie’s large head. "Pretty sure I'm looking at the first."

As they reach the peak of the ferris wheel, the ride stops and, after a minute, the fireworks start to close out the night. They aren't nearly as magical or impressive as the ones with Willow’s family, but it’s hard not to be dazzled by pretty explosions in the sky. The loud booms echo through the empty coast, creating a chamber like effect that adds to the spectacle and increases the overall noise. Willow excitedly swings her legs, completely fixated on the show and not at all attune to the disruptions below— like, how people are scattering and fleeing the fair. How the panic seems to be coming from the house of mirrors. How faint screams (and not the overjoyed kind) can be heard through the fireworks. Willow simply doesn’t notice this.

 

[ellarose]

"It isn't proper for a lady to swear, but I cannot help it when I'm vexed." Juliet admits, tugging shyly at a loose thread on her jacket. She had no such restrictions on her language as a child... and then suddenly, there were many, many words she was punished for saying. Anyhow, Kinsley ought to consider herself fortunate that she did not leave their encounter with a broken nose. There is speaking ones mind-- with intention-- and then there is outright unpleasantness. Unpleasantness without cause, verging on senseless cruelty. She is of the firm opinion that one should not speak so carelessly lest they want to face the consequence of a broken nose. Quietly, the archer notes Willow's reluctance to speak Evermore curses, keeping her voice low enough that only they are privy to the fuck and fuck-based insults. (...She also learns that Evermore is a place that has a queen for colorful insults. Fascinating. She considers it far more fascinating than the colorful clouds on sticks. While initially sweet, the cottony dessert turned strangely sticky in her mouth before vanishing completely. In a contest, it does not stand a chance against funnel cakes.) Juliet considers them as well as the way she might wield them in the future. The forbidden nature of this language that was only used in the games of men (boys) makes it all the more thrilling, with a head-to-toe rush that she's defying the strict boundaries set for her. "Meanwhile the tournament grounds are filled with boys pointing their swords at each other, saying things such as... 'Villain, I have done your mother.'" Her cheeks blush a faint pink upon saying this one aloud. "...If I were to use other words to describe Kinsley, they would be foppling and grumbletonian." From there, Juliet gradually builds up confidence, realizing that Willow isn't shy of the words she's using. She proceeds to teach Folklore insults in return for those from Evermore-- such as blunderbuss, dunderhead, ninnyhammer, and gollumpus.

Juliet would not advise to use them before royalty or towards a rotten-hearted fiancé during a family dinner. While it'd been true, most certainly, the events that followed from that point on were... Willow James clearly does not require the warning, though, as it comes across that she does not have any cutthroat impulses to tame. Anyhow, she has already thought and spoken enough about Brooks for one day. As they board the ride, the archer nervously taps her thigh with one hand and clutches the handlebar with the other. When it creaks and carries them off the ground, she squeezes her eyes shut tight. (Her thoughts are still quite jostled from 'roller-coaster time'-- which would come awfully close to her version of hell if she hadn't any worse experiences to compare it to previously.) While this ride does not move nearly as fast, there is something equally agonizing about the slowness of the ferris wheel. Were there solid ground beneath her feet, she might have been able to imagine she's anywhere else. However, the rocking and feet-dangling is a constant reminder that she's being raised higher and higher into the air with each passing moment.

Fuck-hammer, blunder-bitch... fuck-head. Juliet thinks up a list of combination-based insults as they rise higher and higher, keeping her mind occupied on anything other than how small the faire turns beneath them. Fucking wheel. Wheel of death on shit-stilts. Whoever invented this monstrosity... was their name Dimitri? She cannot help but wonder.

Willow mentions the view and Juliet realizes this is her cue to open her eyes before she senses something is amiss. (But of course. One cannot take in a view with closed eyes unless they are dreaming or highly imaginative, that is. Highly imaginative. That's what everyone began calling her when she started seeing things... no one believed her, aside from Millicent. That had deepened the rift between her perception and reality.) Reluctantly, she opens her eyes one at a time, inhaling a sharp breath and snatching the handle bar in her other hand. Preoccupied with looking ahead of them, at the gradually blurring lights down below, she doesn't catch what Willow is referring to as the first best view. In her peripheral, she catches her lowering her head towards the dragon in her arms. (...Well, it is a dragon after all. The thought instills Juliet with confidence that she made the right choice in selecting it for her.)

"The lights are very sparkly." Juliet nods stiffly. Her knuckles are turning white, her palms aching with how tightly she's gripping onto the handle bars. Breathe. Just breathe. "...They certainly cheapen the 'custom Pascowl Laurence' in comparison." Honestly. There is something especially pretentious and inherently strange about someone who calls the clothes on their body by a name. And it still heats her, remembering the way Kinsley bragged about it's worth. (...Exactly something Lavinia Laurence would do.) Infuriating herself with the memory tamps down on some of her fear (she's not afraid) but that is quickly shattered as even sparklier lights from the fireworks bloom and dance in the night sky.

Compared to Willow, Juliet is uncomfortably aware of the chaos ensuing down below. She's always had a sense for danger... and while her climbing feeling of dread could have just as easily been because they were nearing the very top of the ferris wheel, she presumes that Sawyer's earlier note about the faire had also stayed with her throughout the night. (When Millicent claims that something will happen, something always happens. And ofttimes not in the way she initially expects.) However, Willow is not reacting and Juliet watches as red, blue, green and gold lights flash over her wonderstruck expression.

Highly imaginative. Is this all in Juliet's head?

The attendant overseeing their ride looks hesitantly between the ferris wheel and the panicked crowd before making their cowardly decision, running off along with the rest of the fairgoers. From there the passengers on this fucking wheel are stuck, left to dangle in place and await whatever is coming from the house of mirrors. A few people on carts below theirs begin pointing and panicking. The lucky two with wings are able to wiggle free of their seats and fly away. One man yells at the attendant to come back or they're 'suing the pants off them'. Juliet realizes then that this cannot be in her head. Too many people are reacting for it to be in her head... and they will remain there at the top unless they do something soon. It quickly becomes apparent that a monster is running rampant through the crowd. (A Lightless? They're too far away to tell at present. It could be something else.)

I need to get down. Juliet braces herself and studies the structure of the spinning wheel of death. I need to get down right now. There's a nearby bar that angles down to the center shaft-- where she had observed ladder bars protruding downward. (She'd studied it quite intently while waiting in line for this exact purpose.) Once she's sure she has a route, she brings her feet up onto the seat, grabs tightly to the bar at her left, and brings herself to stand. (This accompanies an ominous creak and more wobbling.) "Willow, I need you to summon my bow and arrows." She proceeds to physically lift herself out of their carriage before the sorceress has a chance to protest this course of action (she wouldn't be able to hear it anyway, with a raging stream of blood rushing in her ears) she ensures her grip is tight before she sliding down the angled bar down towards her intended foothold at the center of the ride.

The wind rushes in Juliet's ears, whipping her face and blowing her hair back. Through the screams and her own heartbeat, she can also hear the remaining people on the ride panicking at the sight of her attempted escape. Exclamations like "What do you think you're doing!?" and "She must be insane." float around.

Ignoring them, the archer slings her arm around the bar as tightly as possibly while maneuvering her summoned bow and arrows around to her front. Unsure if this is a Lightless situation, she selects one of her net arrows. (...The distance and height does put her at an advantage, at least.) She hugs her body against the bar, thankful for the secure foothold her bitchn' boots offer her, and presses most of her strength into the crook of her arm in order to use both of her hands freely. (Her fingers are still rather stiff from holding the handle bars so very tightly-- but she works quickly in spite of them.) She nocks the net arrow, aims... and smaaaack! She hits her target with frightening accuracy. From afar, the approaching monster stumbles in a clumsy tangle of limbs. A couple of people gasp and turn, managing to pinpoint her as the source of the attack. Paying the attention no mind, Juliet grits her teeth, swinging her bow back and shimmying herself towards the ladder. Her boots clang, clang, clang against it as she climbs down.

Thankfully Gracie shows up before too long, morphing herself large enough to help Juliet down. (The climb would have been slow and agonizing otherwise.) Once she's firmly on the ground (ah... she could kiss it, truly) the fox begins helping some of the people out of the lower-hanging carts while Juliet rushes to the booth that controls the ride. Just as she'd studied the structure of the death wheel, she had also paid close attention to the attendant's technique in manipulating it. Like this, she is able to free the remaining passengers (some of whom thank her or call her a hero and some of whom simply push by her and run away as fast as their feet can carry them) while keeping her peripheral on the monster to ensure it isn't making any sudden moves. One of the security guards is approaching it apprehensively, shouting indistinguishable things into his staticky box. The ropes are sturdy and the net is efficiently holding the creature in place for now... but it's liable to break free if enough time is wasted willy nilly.

At last, Juliet helps Willow James off of the ferris wheel, offering her a hand. "...We should check on the monster and see if anyone else needs help." She glances anxiously behind her. Willow James hadn't noticed at first-- so she thinks it best to inform her of this. "It came from the house of mirrors." Which goes without saying, is the very place that Kinsley and Dorothea had gone.

 

[starboob]

“Juliet!” But nope. The archer has already stood up and swung one leg over the side of their carriage and Willow can see her mapping her path down, reflected in her steady brown eyes. Geez. Okay, well she supposes that a hero must be ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. (Still, this doesn’t seem entirely safe. Like, there’s a real possibility for a Humpty Dumpty of a situation for Juliet and she does not want that.)

Once Juliet is out of the carriage, the sorceress concentrates on locating the archer’s weapons and pulling them from her room in the Rhode Island home to the top of the ferris wheel at the boardwalk. Her green eyes open just as she reaches upwards to grasp the glittering bow and arrow set that she hands over to Juliet. Her eyes don’t stay on her partner for long as her gaze pans over the chaos below— the people scattering like ants, screams coming from all directions making it difficult for her to track where exactly the danger is coming from. She notices Juliet nocking an arrow and follows the point to the target— a charcoal gray beast from what Willow can tell from this distance. It thrashes through the crowd, bucking people into the air with its antlers.

‘This is it, Willow. This is your moment.’ Her heartbeat shakes like a rocket ready to launch as she pulls her staff from her wrist, gripping it tight enough that the cracked citrine sparks at the top. ‘The basics will suffice. Everything is built from basics.’ Briefly, she closes her eyes and takes a moment to calm her heart, reminding herself that she only has to do what she believes she’s ready for. She doesn’t have to push herself. She has Juliet. And, as far as she knows, Juliet’s neutralized the threat already.

Exhale.

She opens her eyes, scanning the skyline for any sign of Lucky, somewhat surprised the dragon hasn’t raced over to her already. Though there’s little reason for her to be concerned for a dragon’s safety, she does wonder where they are. In any case, she trusts they’re okay and she supposes she’ll soon find out.

Juliet offers her hand and helps her out of the carriage, welcoming her into the action. “Thanks. You’re brilliant.” She exhales shakily, nerves still buzzing inside of her despite her resolve. Again, she reminds herself that they’ve probably jumped the greatest hurdle for the evening. (Well, Juliet has.) Her eyes immediately lock on the struggling beast, able to view it better from the ground but she doesn’t inspect it more than a second when Juliet mentions where it had come from. Her head snaps to Juliet, then to the house of mirrors.

‘Dorothea.’ And, sure, Kinsley, too but— Dorothea. The sorceress freezes, wringing her hands around her staff. Then she shakes her head, quickly snapping out of her brief reverie as she assesses the crowd, the monster, the injured, and everything else.

Without much warning and in a single fluid motion, she unclips and enlarges her finger skateboard from her keychain. Before she throws it on the ground and hops on it, she explains. “Juliet, check on the monster. I need to make sure sh—they’re okay.” She also knows that Juliet will watch her back, she’s already shown a protective instinct for the sorceress— one that is clearly enough to have Lucky elsewhere while danger lingers in the air. “I’ll be quicker on wheels. I can do this.”

Regardless of whether or not Juliet believes her or even agrees with her course of action, just as the archer didn’t let the sorceress protest earlier, the sorceress does the same to the archer. The skateboard hits the ground with a smack and Willow jumps on it, pushing herself forward. She carves through the crowd easily and pushes small bursts of air from her palms to propel her forward. However, while she had been intent on making it to the house of mirrors, as she nears the monster, she double takes. Her eyes widen and she brings herself to a stop just feet in front of it, kicking the skateboard up and returning it to her keychain.

The security guard who has been warily monitoring it, unclips a taser from his belt, slowly approaching it with the stun weapon raised. When he comes into Willow’s periphery, she holds out her staff so that his gut bumps into it causing him to look down then over to the sorceress.

“Don’t.” There’s a surprising amount of force in Willow’s tone as she stares into the man’s eyes. He’s clearly waffling between listening and going forward with his plan. She points towards the beast. “She’s a companion. She’s neutralized. Tasing her in this state is an easy one to five years in prison. Especially since she is Dorothea Birdsong’s companion.”

The guard doesn’t have time to doubt the sorceress as a handful of the Charming Street kids run out of the house mirrors and skid to a halt when they spot Jovi. The deer, ordinarily, is snow white with matching white antlers. However, right now, her fur and antlers are darkening in color; though, every so often, the darkness retreats, flickers back to white, but is eaten up again by that charcoal gray. Her antlers are also rapidly growing and shrinking (effectively wearing at the net). More than that, antlers are sprouting from the companion’s joints, coming in at painful angles. Jovi grunts out as tusks extend from her upper jaw.

Willow only recognizes Jovi from the powder blue bow Dorothea keeps tied to one of the spikes on the antlers. The Charming Street kids confirm her identity when Conrad, a hunk in sheer mesh top, points to the companion and shouts, “Look, there’s Jovi!”

“Fuck! Someone call Stake and get her over here ASAP.” This order comes from Felix, Conrad’s twink boyfriend. Meanwhile Devon and Chandler, Kinsley’s younger sisters, are in tears and muttering incoherently. Willow only catches bits of, “Kins!” and “Sh-She’s still in there!” Chandler also has a spray of blood across her face.

One of the boys, who Willow only vaguely recognizes, puts an arm around Chandler to comfort her, but his eyes are wide with fear– like he’s still seeing flashes from whatever happened inside the house of mirrors. “Someone needs to call Griffith, too.”

Conrad, upon spotting Willow and the guard, marches up to them shooing them away with his arms. (He doesn’t appear to recognize Willow despite the fact that she saved him from flunking geometry for the third year in a row.) “Turnaround! There’s nothing to see.”

The ground directly beneath and surrounding the house of mirrors shudders, cracks, with rose thorns bursting from the ground and wrapping around the attraction. Jovi then snorts, whips her head around frantically, and tears through the net with her truly be-antlered form. The companion’s eyes shift from black to bright blue. Foam lines the corner of her mouth. She scrapes at the ground, huffs, and charges Conrad. (This all encourages the security guard to quietly scatter from the scene.)

Willow casts the first spell she can think of, shooting a bright ball of light at Jovi’s face. It flashes brightly, stunning the deer and causing her to stumble over to the side before she can make contact with the gay hunk. Then Willow rushes to shove Conrad, but even with her momentum her lack of size and strength mostly just nudges him. He’s too shocked to really process anything until Willow shoves him again. “Hey! Don’t touch me—”

“It’s y-you who needs to skedaddle, Conrad.” Willow tries to still the quiver in her voice, the incessant need to cry pushing at her eyes. ‘What would Meredith say?’ She holds her breath for a count and presses on, staring the man in the eye. “Go. Before Jovi scares the frosted tips out of Felix’s hair.” She shoves him again, this time adding a small force of wind to aid her.

Though she isn’t able to see the fruits of her labor as she hears Jovi recovering. And, by the time she turns around, the companion has grown to the size of a single-story house. ‘Duck.’ She scans for Juliet and ditches Conrad (who is now staring at Jovi with his mouth agape) to rush over to her. “Juliet, are your sleep arrows adjusted for something of this size?” She hurriedly continues with an explanation before Jovi can stomp all over the fair or escape into the city. “That’s Dorothea’s companion. Her name is Jovi. I don’t know what’s going on, but she needs to be neutralized and we need to get into the house of mirrors.” The house of mirrors that is now covered in a thorn bush cocoon; though, somewhat similar to Jovi's shifting coat, the thorns oscillate between thorns and blooming roses. She chews on the inside of her cheek. "I think... I think all of that is Dorothea, too."

 

[ellarose]

Juliet is easily able to keep the same pace as Willow by riding on Grace's back. She hears the sorceress initially identify the companion to the guard. A companion... and Dorothea's at that. Grace shifts her balance from paw to paw, visibly uneasy at the sight, and the archer offers her a gentle scratch behind the ears to console her. It may be hard to watch, heart-wrenching even, but something must be done. It becomes evident that not everyone's first instinct is to flee the scene, however. There is always someone unequipped to get involved who gets involved in these situations. Turn around? Nothing to see? There is certainly something to see, here. Companion or not, Jovie has already hurt people-- quite severely at that-- and will no doubt continue if she escapes these gradually wearing ropes. No matter how well this person claims to know the companion, they're offering no valuable solutions aside from calling others whose contributions may or may not do anything to help the situation. (...Speaking with people like this is the equivalent of teaching a goldfish to breathe air. She admires that the sorceress pushes forward regardless, taking charge of the situation while the security guard proceeds to turn and run. Unsurprising. This confirms the doubts she'd had about the lazing fellows Willow had pointed to upon their arrival. Insipid as some of Amoria's finest guards could be, they at least take their jobs seriously. They've had to, after one too many incidents, and cannot afford to slack off with Queen Viviane overseeing them with her sharp blue eyes.) The archer holds her bow steady as the sorceress casts, pausing and allowing her to fight while still being prepared to back her up should she require the assistance.

The companion falls and the gaping goldfish is safe. For now.

With the dutiful posture of a castle guard, Juliet allows herself no time to groan or pinch her brow in frustration-- rather she holds herself and her bow steady as she dismounts from Grace's back and forges her way towards the rapidly growing companion. Hm. The most drastic companion changes have always been a skill exclusive to the royalty in Folklore-- the most notable from her own memories being the way Queen Vivian's companion could easily shift from an imposing orca to a graceful snow leopard at will. Even so, this is incomparable. It's different. There is nothing intentional or willing about this transformation. The roses that bloom might be pretty-- but it certainly isn't graceful as the companion grows to an enormous size, pants for breath and froths at the mouth. Whatever is happening, it's hurting her.

Juliet notes the roses and thorns emerging from the house of mirrors. It's visibly related, yes, and at a glance challenging to tell whether the source is coming from the companion or the inside of the house. Most likely inside, if that's where Dorothea is. (She wondered for a moment if was all in her head... but it's plain to see that Willow James sees it too as she openly acknowledges it.) It's also apparent that the blood on a few of the crying girls nearby is coming from thorn-inflicted wounds-- most notably on their hands, as if they'd been trying to pull at them.

While Juliet knows very little about Dorothea, the woman she just met-- Juliet realizes she might be able to understand her. Grace is uneasy. (Similarly, she must understand to some extent what Jovi is going through right now.) While she initially considered the queen's companion, all the while she'd been pointedly avoiding another chilling similarity between this case and one she's experienced firsthand. One she knows the strife of all too well. Something had seemed a bit off about Dorothea from up close, the circles under her eyes indicating something building up beneath her haloed surface. Something that must have built up inside of her until...

Briefly, corpses flash among the vines. Hanging there. Bleeding from their eyes. Juliet blinks hard... and the next moment they're gone. Never mind that. It's time to act.

"Yes, I heard." Juliet confirms she already knows when Willow informs her about the companion. "...At her current size, she might sleep for ten minutes at most." The Lightless she'd used the arrows on before returned to their simple human sizes and slept for hours. The same dosage will not be quite as effective. (She has used these tactics to escape bone-collecting giants in the past-- typically needing all but a few minutes to disappear.) Juliet August might be fast, but they aren't running from this one. This poses a real danger to the people outside the house of mirrors if they give themselves a limited window of time to solve what might be a deep-rooted problem. "Which isn't very promising, I know. However..." The archer swiftly reaches for one of her time arrows. (She must be quick for this to work-- she only possesses the prowess to manipulate time backward or forward by a minute at most. Millicent warns her that trying to push beyond that limit would essentially cause things to go toasty toasty.) At her touch, the arrow glows faintly as she twirls the fletching counterclockwise. (There's a faint, echoing sound of a clock ticking pulsing from it.) She nocks the arrow, her entire bow transforming in a flash of light-- adorned with ticking clocks (all spinning counterclockwise this time) as the ticking grows louder and louder.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait-- are those arrows!? Don't hurt her, she's--" The one called Conrad breaks out of his stupor when he notices the archer aiming her arrow at Jovi. (...Only he has no clue what is actually happening.) He runs, trying to heroically put himself between Juliet and Jovi-- but the archer is faster and her aim is higher than he can possibly reach. He seizes her arm just as the arrow is released. The companion is engulfed in light, shrinking down to the size she was before her transformation.

"Let go of me, you fucking ninnyhammer. Unless you'd prefer she grow to the size of a cottage again?" Juliet shakes herself free, reaching for another of her time arrows. Fortunately, his grip loosens when he makes proper use of his eyeballs and comes to the realization that there's no physical arrow or arrow inflicted wound in Jovi's skin. She fires the other arrow-- this one she uses to freeze time in order to bide the three minutes it will take for the sleeping serum to take effect.

Next Juliet takes a sleeping lily arrow into her hands. She nocks it, releases, and the arrow dissolves through Jovi just like the edible clouds disappeared in her mouth earlier.

"Damn. You've got a killer aim." Conrad says, slightly dazed as he watches Juliet work in steps from arrow to arrow. "What are you doing...? You're, uh, trying to help her, right?" To his credit, he at least sounds a little apologetic now.

"...Of course. I would never harm a companion." Juliet speaks while ensnaring Jovi with another trap arrow. "This is just a precaution. Like this, she should sleep for one to two hours. If you would like to be of help, then stand guard and advise anyone from standing too close to her." She tilts her head indicatively towards the crying girls. "...And see to it that your friends relocate someplace safe."

Juliet approaches the companion slowly. Since time for her has gone still, her breathing has calmed considerable. The thorns and roses pulse over her like a calming heartbeat. She clicks her tongue sympathetically as Grace walks past her to curl up at Jovi's side. The archer exchanges a knowing glance with her companion, whose brown eyes carry as much resolve as her own.

"...Howl if anything happens." Juliet nods, affectionately kissing the fox on the top of her soft head before joining Willow at the entrance of the house of mirrors. She nods firmly, adjusting her bow on her hip as she stares ahead into the darkness of the thorny hall awaiting them. "Gracie will keep watch. But before we rush in blindly..." This is all for the sake of saving time. She looks back at Conrad. "You. Do you know how many people are still inside and where they are?" As it is now, there's only two from what she knows-- Kinsley and Dorothea-- but they need to ensure they don't neglect anyone. "Is anyone trapped or in critical condition? Do try to be concise-- we need to hurry in order to help everyone." (While she is curious about what happened, she knows those questions will come later. For now, they need to ensure that nobody within is on the verge of death.)

 

[starboob]

Conrad, dazed and confused, doesn’t immediately realize that Juliet is talking to him. Beads of sweat are rolling down his face, neck, torso and while this is normal, because he’s presumably just hightailed out of a haunted horror house, most likely saw something or some things that no one should ever have to witness, there is something else to his reaction. Willow can’t place it right now, but his eyes are shifty. (She also has a feeling he hadn't been motivated to order them to turn back out of concern for their safety. He didn't tell them to run because of danger. He told them to run because there wasn't anything to see. It could be coincidence, but know the Charming Street penchant for secrets, she's not so sure.)

It takes Willow waving her hand in front of Conrad’s face for him to realize that there is a world outside of his head. He startles at first, then instinctively sneers at the heroines before he processes the question and shakes his head. “No, no one else. Kins made sure it was only us inside. Her companion is still in there and pretty banged up.” He nods, confident that he’s not missing anyone. “That’s it— oh! And Lucky, a dragon companion, is in there too. They helped us escape.”

That Lucky James is more widely recognized than Willow James herself is not news, unfortunately. Were this the time, the sorceress might have pointed out that Lucky is her companion or she might have found humor in the irony, but instead she pats Conrad’s arm a couple times, rushes out a thanks, and bolts inside, throwing a peace sign over her shoulder as she goes. She trusts that Juliet is following behind her and doesn’t bother to check. Not necessarily out of a lack of consideration, caution, or carelessness, but urgency pulls her forward, fueled by the gruesome images that her overactive imagination supplies. (Were she more clear headed, she would have told them to not call Sabrina or Griffith and it’s possible that she’ll come to regret this later.)

Within the house of mirrors, the oscillating thorn bushes have taken over and continue to grow in random bursts. At times, a new patch will spring up right beneath their feet or even shoot out from the side, forcing both heroines to jump, dodge, and pull each other to safety. The mirrors that once made up the labyrinth are either pierced through or entirely shattered, shards scattered all over the ground. While Willow would expect to hear some sign of distress to follow, the attraction is disturbingly quiet. All that fills the air is the sound of their boots scuffing the ground, crunching glass, or stomping over vines. Even so, the further they rush through the attraction, it is clear that the density of thorns is concentrated around a specific area and that is what Willow James uses as a guide.

As the flora thickens Willow summons Fearless Daylight to combat it and hacks through the branches to clear the path. Some areas have been torn through already, further confirming the direction they should be headed. And, as they approach a massive overgrowth, the air takes on a slight scorched smell. ‘Dragon fire.’ To her left she spots the scorch marks on blackened branches, creating what appears to be a tunnel. The mirrors in this area, or what remains of them, are splattered in blood and some of the cracks appear to be from an altercation rather than the thorns. Willow can also hear the sound of a muffled voice behind the overgrowth that acts as a thorn encasement. The branches that make this up are tightly coiled and still moving. Like snakes they’re winding tighter and tighter. Baby branches also split from the mature ones, weaving themselves together to reinforce the barrier as they grow. When Willow approaches the protective encasing to cut through it, the thorns react and shoot out towards her. She pivots out of the way to avoid the brunt of the defense, but one thorn just grazes her arm still. ‘Not quick enough.’

Knowing that the thorns are reactive and set to ward off intruders, Willow motions for Juliet to move back as she aims her staff at a section of the barrier. The glyph that appears at the tip glows and shoots out a blast of frost that freezes the branches solid. Then, flipping her staff around, she swings it like a golf club and slices through the branches with a razor-thin gust of wind. They shatter, revealing a short tunnel and creating an opening wide enough for them to make it through, but it won’t last. Already, the thorns are reforming to fix the barrier.

But Willow knows the importance of being quick. She rushes through the opening as soon as she sees the thorns reacting. As she races, she sees the exit growing narrow. She pumps her legs faster. Some thorns scrape at her arms and legs but she makes it through at the last second, dropping to her hip to slide forward like a baseball player. The sorceress quickly rolls over to the side and though the world is spinning, though she hasn’t quite placed herself yet, she springs to her feet and immediately locks onto Dorothea. Dorothea is hunched over on the ground and Kinsley is draped over her, clutching her like she’s trying to hold her together, keep her from unraveling. Above them, Lucky has grown to about one third of their full size and uses their body like a shield. From within the barrier, it’s obvious that while this is Dorothea’s magic, she’s not in control of it and it's trying to hurt anyone and everyone. The thorns scrape, scratch, and slide off of Lucky’s scales, but Willow can see that their wings are not quite as impervious. Though the thorns haven’t punctured through (yet), they’re pressing against and cutting the elastic skin.

A soft mewl pulls Willow’s attention towards Paisley who is laying on her side not too far from Kinsley. The Javanese longhair has a deep gash over her shoulder and front leg. Blood stains her silver coat, but the wounds no longer bleeds as it looks like someone (probably Lucky) has cauterized the them.

“Thee, snap out of it. Don't give up now. Please.” Kinsley’s voice grabs Willow's ever shifting attention, noting that it's hoarse and the cruel edge is lost. The ravenette presses her cheek to Dorothea’s back, squeezing her tighter like that might pull her back from whatever metaphoric ledge she might be near. It’s almost like she’s done this before. “You’re Dorothea Birdsong and you’re fucking better than this!”

Dorothea’s head snaps up and Willow takes a step back, gasping, unprepared for what she sees. Aside from her divine glow being absent, Dorothea’s eyes are so sunken they appear as two black holes, taking up her entire eye sockets. The nicks that were covering her fingers have split open, widened, and more show up along her neck. Dark splotches polka dot her dress indicating that there are more beneath her clothing. Whatsmore is that rather than bleed, ink flames pour from the wounds, the complete absence of light to match her eyes. (It reminds her of…)

Her eyes return to Kinsley, finding her easier to take in than the other woman, noticing that while she obviously does not look like her usual immaculate self, something about her appears different too. It could be the lighting, but her eyes don’t look that piercing blue. They’re darker and when she tries to get a better look, they’re back to their usual soul crushing color. Not only that, but Kinsley’s spotted them both and she doesn’t hesitate to put her layers of unpleasantness back on. “Get the fuck out of here!” She snarls through gritted teeth. “This doesn’t concern you dorks.”

Dorothea thrashes, opens her mouth, and Kinsley quickly claps her hand over it before she can unwittingly influence her magic.

“Shut up, Kinsley. I know more about magic than you.” Willow surprises herself when she says this and, bolstered by adrenaline, she decides to continue. Kinsley is shocked enough too that she does, indeed, shut up. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Kinsley grunts against another jerk, surprising Willow by taking her seriously at all. “But it’s getting fucking worse. Ever since coming back to Elsewhere…” This confirms what Willow suspected; that the Charming Street kids (or some of them) are in the know about their friend and, for whatever reason, are trying to keep it under wraps. Part of her can understand. It is strange that Dorothea is being affected by, well, anything. Her godblood is supposed to protect her from all ailments. (Including acne as everyone growing up bitterly discovered.) Whatever this is, it is beyond a mortal affliction and the Charming Street kids, connected to power and influence, don't want anyone knowing. It has to be Bad, capital B. “It’s getting harder and harder to bring her back.”

Willow’s heart sinks to her stomach and the mountain of guilt becomes larger and more looming. 'How long has this been going on?'

“Juliet.” She turns towards her companion and lowers her voice. “I don’t get the sense she’s going Lightless.” Granted, she’ll trust Juliet’s judgment on this as she’s only witnessed one full transformation and the start to another. Juliet is the Lightless expert between them. Even so, based on her limited experience, and even with the knowledge that even a good person can change (like Prince Zander), this feels different. It reminds her of something else. (Like that…) “I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t… I don’t want what’s happening to her to be happening to her.” Obviously. Duh. "I'm gonna try something. Watch my back?"

Wasting not another second, she then rushes to her old friend and drops to her knees. If Kinsley's been trying to bring her back by (clumsily) reminding her of herself, then maybe Willow can try as well? (This feels somewhat similar to how they helped Z escape his labyrinth.) She shares a glance with Kinsley (it’s probably the most neutral exchange she’s ever had with the school villain) and the other woman nods. She doesn't release Dorothea, but she does look away which Willow thinks is surprisingly thoughtful for her. She scoots forward and then cups Dorothea’s face between her palms.

“Dorothea,” Willow whispers, speaking slowly to keep her tone as even as possible. “It’s me. Willow James. Remember?” It’s hard to tell, but something within the demigod seems to still when she begins talking and this encourages her to continue. While Dorothea’s breathing is still ragged, it seems like she’s trying to pay attention. At least, the two black holes in her face are staring fixedly at Willow. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad friend, but I’m here now and I’m here to help. No matter what happens. I won't forget you.”

Dorothea, in response, remains still. Then two streaks of tears slide down her cheeks, but the tears are black and wherever they touch they leave a dark trail behind that smokes against her skin. They begin to flame a second later, like her wounds. The sorceress frowns. That's not what she wants.

"You're Dorothea Birdsong." She starts again, determination set in her eyes as she stares in those endless depths. "You always used to talk about getting out of Elsewhere, leaving the Charming life behind." It had surprised Willow to know that, because Dorothea had always seemed so comfortable and at ease with the others in her circle. But once she got to know the actress, she realized that... "You were grateful, you've always been grateful, but the plans that had been made, the role your mom wanted you fill, you never wanted that. You wanted to be happy and you didn't see that for yourself in those plans." She knows this isn't news to Kinsley either, if she's listening. Dorothea said Kinsley thought she was insane for wanting to be a commoner. "You didn't want to be known as anyone other than Dorothea Birdsong, happiest woman alive." And that's honestly why it breaks Willow's heart that she's threaded to someone who so very obviously doesn't make her happy. Speaking of...

"They're down this way, Griffith."

Willow looks over her shoulder, glaring without meaning to, as Felix's voice carries through the attraction. They sound distant enough, but it's not like it'll take long for them to be found and she does not want to see more of him than she has to. She turns back to Dorothea, noticing the way her brow is pinched together, like she's focusing on something. Right. Willow's hands slide down to arms, giving her a squeeze. As adrenaline leaves her, tears she had been holding back finally spring in her eyes. "You can still be that person. C-Come back and we'll figure this out. ...I-I'll tell you why I went to Folklore, too."

She doesn't know what does it or if it's even her— maybe Dorothea pulls through on her own—but, slowly, her old friend's breathing start to calm and she no longer resists Kinsley's grasp, going entirely slack in her arms. The cuts along her body close, extinguishing the inky flames in orange-yellow puffs. And the hollow holes that made her eyes fan away in another orange-yellow puff. The thorns don't drop or turn to roses, but they do still, allowing Lucky to shrink back down and cling to their companion's shoulder. (Willow absently reaches to rub their nose.) Dorothea stares at Willow, looking as though she wants to say something but her eyes are full of exhaustion, the bruises under them are darker now, and her lids are obviously heavy. The heroine just sniffles, wipes her own tears, and smiles. "We'll catch up tomorrow." She rises, looks to Kinsley, who still holds her friend, but less fiercely and more comfortingly (it's weird, coming from the ice queen of Elsewhere), and then decides to say nothing. This is already too weird. Besides, with the footsteps fast approaching, she knows they need to scoot.

"Juliet," she turns to her. "Let's go. I don't wanna get caught in all this drama."

 

[ellarose]

'I don't get the sense that she's going Lightless.' Juliet's vision sways with an uneasy rain of dark blots, pulsing like the roses, and she rolls her thumb against the hilt of her dagger to keep herself present. Gaze trained dutifully ahead, she's swept backward, stands within moments in the past as she recalls the symptom stages. The afternoon she'd been trapped in Brooks's embrace while the press of his fingers gradually sharpened into rows of claws against her back. (...The scars still haven't gone away. Just as the one over her collarbone hasn't.) Sometimes when he smiled, the flash of his too-sharp teeth accompanied an unspoken threat to tear her limb from limb should she embarrass or slight him again. The monstrous symptoms snapped to an illusion of normalcy before the crowds he always acted for. They loved him and his charms... while she thought him a monster. Some humored her, listened to her... but none truly believed her. ('This is too much. You make him sound like a big, bad creature from the wood, Juliet. By blood, Brooks comes from a respectable family. Unlike you.' Lavinia had cut in once, eavesdropping before barging in to express her opinion like the gabbing fopdoodle she is. 'You don't deserve him.') And yet a monster is precisely what he was becoming to her. All the while, her life was being surrendered to his careless hands. Upon accepting that truth, she'd been hollowed out. No more than a shell shaped like someone called 'Juliet August'. (Emptied out just like Dorothea's eyes are now.) That's why she simply stood there when finally, he-- Her nightmares crossed the threshold between dream and reality, bursting free at the altar when her dread of the future grew to its highest height.

While considering this, Juliet's mask doesn't bear a single crack. She's used to holding herself together through the worst of times. (She can trust no one else to do it but herself.) Willow and Kinsley snap at each other, fueled by their transparent concerns for Dorothea, attending to her, holding her, coaxing her back from the brink... and Juliet keeps her distance. Experimentally, she brings her hand towards one of the nearby roses. Much like the one in the rose garden in Amoria, the petals scorch to a rot-black and curl away from her fingertips, oscillating sooner than all the others. Cursed. No, she hasn't changed. No matter what world she's in, she's still Juliet August.

Sharp thorns of loneliness grow in Juliet's chest as she blankly watches the present unfold, trained to notice any sudden movements that might take her back into the fight, while her mind drifts faraway. She has no insight to offer. Doesn't belong here. Isn't needed here. (If she begins to wonder why she's even here at all, the thoughts will drag her to abysmal depths... and so she tethers her lifeline to the image of Willow, Kinsley, and Dorothea.) The dark spots indicate that something quite similar to a Lightless affliction could be causing Dorothea's transformation. It isn't completely the same, however, the nature of her eyes being the most prominent difference. She doesn't know the woman well enough to understand what exactly is happening to her-- or why. She seemed pleasant enough earlier. But pleasantness, more than anything else, can be deceptive. Many nobles had thought Brooks a 'pleasant fellow' before his own transformation. However, she'd have trouble scraping together the impression that this woman could be capable of the same atrocities as a man like Brooks. Perhaps she doesn't wish to believe it for Willow's sake-- as Dorothea clearly evoked passion and single-minded bravery from her as she unhesitatingly casted, slashed, and forged forward into this house of mirrors and thorns to save her. Beyond that, she also reminds her a bit more of...

Oh. Willow James is talking to her. Dorothea has returned to her former self, albeit bruised and exhausted. Juliet blinks twice, remembering the fact of her own existence-- however flimsy it might feel-- and bows her head into a thoughtful nod.

"...Alright."

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Each step of Juliet's boots against the glass-smattered floor is a reminder of the reality she's living in. As they walk in silence, she replays their whirlwind evening in flashes-- plummeting down from the dizzying height of the ferris wheel, attending to the distressed companion, and then everything that transpired afterwards. Willow's resolve was notably different than that she's witnessed from her in the past. Considering this, she speaks softly. "If you want to stay here, that would be all right. Or what I mean to say is that I would... understand." She mentions, keeping her gaze set forward. It's much easier to discuss such things while staring ahead. "The day after tomorrow, I must return to Folklore. But you are under no obligation to return with me if you now believe the afflictions plaguing our worlds are unrelated. I would understand if you'd prefer to stay and watch over her." While she did not foresee their paths diverging this early, perhaps it will be for the better. (This is what she had wanted when they started-- for Willow to go her own way. Traveling with a companion from another world-- and exploring that world-- has been an admittedly interesting experience. Even fun, on occasion. It's even gotten a smile out of her. But she needs to remember herself, to remember the cruel reality surrounding all of this. Prolonging this will worsen whatever ending awaits them. But if they end it now...) "You must care about her very much." This is stated plainly, as a fact that carries no discernible traces of bitterness. Because there is none. Even through her own loneliness by contrast, Juliet understands the feeling. She knew herself what it meant to care for someone once... to care enough that it left her bruised and maimed.

Willow has never given her the impression that she's spiteful of the thread that hangs between them. Still, Juliet cannot help but wonder if there's a part of her that wishes it were connected to Dorothea instead. (And she would not blame her for that. If Juliet were anyone else, she wouldn't wish to be connected to herself either. In the same way she wants better for Grace, she wants better for Willow as well... but Juliet doesn't know how to get better. She's fallen beyond the point that anyone can reach her. Whoever Juliet August was before the heartbreak... she's long dead, rotting in the grave her lovers pushed and left her in. No... perhaps she was dead even before that.)

The sorceress knows much about magic. Perhaps more so than Juliet thought previously. She's proven that she can indeed wield it resourcefully in a crisis situation. She is even capable of abating the symptoms with words, bypassing the need for the antidotes the archer carries in her quiver. She cares about her home, missed it dearly. With that in mind, she has every reason to stay. There is no reason for her to concern herself with the problems in Folklore. No reason to concern herself with Juliet.

They're out of the house of mirrors again before Willow can offer a response, addressing those outside who ask about Dorothea and Kinsley. Once they're told that everything is under control for now, Juliet suggests they stay close just in case. With that in mind, the two heroines of love walk around the faire and attend to the scattered few that didn't join the fleeing crowd-- they reassure those who they discover panicked and hiding, reunite one crying girl with her mother, and attend to someone who'd been trampled in the fleeing crowd. When it becomes evident that they're more or less the only ones still present, they end up walking through the front gates and down the street.

Juliet's not quite sure if they're taking the long way to Willow's home on foot or if they're simply walking and with the intention of teleporting later. Perhaps neither of them know precisely where they're headed. It just seems unspoken in that moment that they're going to walk together under the glow of the streetlights, leaving the almost mockingly cheerful gleam of the attractions at the faire behind them as they process everything that just transpired.

"You did not know what was happening to her... but had you perhaps been fearing all this time that something like that might happen? After all, you had reason to believe love was in need of saving. So much so that you to journeyed all the way to Folklore." Juliet mentions, recalling Willow telling Dorothea that she would tell her the reason why. By now, of course the archer knows that much. She also knows what she had told Princess Elise, about her data and research. Data and research... but there is much about her decision that she doesn't understand yet. Something must have transpired in Evermore before that happened. And whatever mysterious something that was-- it was a something that led her to Folklore and Juliet by extension. Perhaps it shouldn't be overlooked any longer. "You mentioned data before..." Her brow furrows a little. (In truth, a part of her had been a touch intimidated to ask.) "Such concepts can confuse me, admittedly." She blushes. Millicent would attest to this. "But after everything that happened today, I must ask. Why do you think the answer exists in Folklore?" Would it have something to do with the wood, perhaps? Or the remaining gateways? Folklore hasn't seen a visitor from Evermore in Juliet's lifetime up until Willow James appeared. Anyhow... if Willow does decide that she would rather stay home than go back with her, Juliet believes the insight would be valuable to take back with her. Just in case there is something she can do.