Fantasy ; 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘.

[birth of venus]

OUR LADY WOLLSTONECRAFT ACADEMY.

gm'ed by
venus & erzulie

 

[birth of venus]

WSC

CH. 1: SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE.

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Dreary skies open their tears to a newly reopened campus, and in the distance, professors at each cardinal point of campus collect the first autumn rain of their fall semester in order to cleanse and renew. It seems more protective measures have begun in earnest - doorways lay with freshly painted seals above their thresholds, lines of salt found further out towards the campus boundaries, and newly reinforced gates as well. A new semester at Our Lady Wollstonecraft Academy has begun, and to those with a keen eye something is amiss.

The typical motions of a new school year had gone underway, curious to those unused to the strange happenings at the university and routinely normal for others. Though the gates were obviously much newer and freshly painted, they creaked all the same as they opened to allow students back for their next year. Students from all corners of the world were chewed up and spat out through wormholes after following the increasingly confusing instructions of the brochure sent to them, and dropped into a deep fog that emerged at the very entrance of the school. The cobblestone path was well worn from the trek each year, returning and new folks making their way across campus to the dormitories for move in week. Around campus, banners painted with the words 'WELCOME BACK DELICIOUS STUDENTS!' and streamers decorated the entrances of buildings.

Though the campus remains as intangible as ever, with no physical location to bind it to the world, a strange new air has surrounded the grounds. Upon their first day students received explicit instructions from both faculty and their dorm RAs of the new school boundaries, now forbidding access to the southern portion of the forest and beyond the lake. It seems to have carved a bit into the large sports fields around the eastern front as well, forcing campus to be just a bit more trim, reducing space for students to wander. Around campus as the semester commences, students are warned that they may see peculiar happenings, such as the constant movement of classroom locations, doors unable to be opened, wailing from the spires and watchtowers. The magic holding everything up isn't failing per se, but something seems. . . off. Even now, a month into the school year, some of the homecoming decorations remain as a reminder.

As October rolls in with autumn equinox and a promised Harvest Festival after their first exams of the school year, a curious invitation will arrive to some students in the form of a small tied scroll. Though the school enjoys its usage of flighty, elusive brochures, it seems this invitation is from another student, singed at the edges. Upon opening, a puff of smoke is let off, and the invitation reads as follows: DEVIL'S NIGHT DUNGEON PARTY AND COSTUME CONTEST. BYOB, 11PM, DM @BICHOTAJUDE TO RSVP.

And in the distance,

A head of dark curls rushes through the dense forests outside of Wollstonecraft. Hands touch a barrier that does not appear to be there, and with little resistance, a scarred hand pushes through into the beyond.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[birth of venus]

jude rivera-carvajal.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  apprehensive, lowkey excited.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  typical crust jacket, seasonal plaid.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  outdoor seating @ cafeteria.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

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The new semester was a fucking sham if you asked Jude.

The incident had happened exactly a year ago. That's what the administration had called it - "the incident" - sanitized, purposefully vague. Jude had warned them, tried to tell them what to expect. A wild animal thrown into polite society after years of isolation would be a recipe for disaster. They were so insistent that she would do just fine, so ready to put faith into them when they knew she was undeserving of it. Something unexplainable had happened, something they had never experienced before, had made them snap. One moment, she had been sitting alone and eating lunch, the next, a group of friends approached and cornered them. Jude wasn't sure if it was a survival instinct triggered at the wrong moment, or if he really did smell as good as he tasted.

Jude was out of their seat, canines digging into the flesh of a classmate's shoulder, relishing in a taste they had deprived themself of for a decade.

The memory following that moment was of them sitting in the Dean's office, deciding her fate with the school before the beginning of this year's fall semester.

The Dean let out a tense breath.

"Ms-"

"Not that,"

Jude cut in.

"Mr.?"

She offered, but received a shake of the head.

"Not that either,"

The Dean sighed once again to strengthen her patience.

"Juandalynn,"

She began again, despite the disgusted curl of Jude's nose at their full name, yuck.

"If you're going to continue living on campus with us, I would appreciate if you would tone down your arson just a bit."

Vivetta Montgomery's words were laced with only a bit of amusement, but her furrowed brow and thin lipped smile left Jude feeling a bit unsettled. Looking at Dean Montgomery evoked the same feeling as viewing a painting — when you looked away, their eyes would follow. Jude shifted in the uncomfortable seat before the Dean's desk, the scratchy upholstery and stiff back only adding onto their growing anxiety.

"I'm not sure what you mean ma'am, I've been good like, all summer."

That was a big fat lie. Jude was restless and hated being cooped up with little to do and with such mounting anxiety and upset at what she had done. Though, the small fire in the gardening club's prissy flower patch was actually an accident. They had been out behind the school to have a secret smoke, and their joint flame when they flicked it away.

"You and I both know that's not true,"

The dean sat up straighter, laced her fingers together on the desk's surface.

"You live life on the offensive more often than naught, and I don't mean this as a threat, Mx. Carvajal. But, I have eyes around my school to ensure the safety of my students. Incidents like this only pile up in your ever-growing disciplinary file. If that continues, then we will be having a much more serious discussion about your future here at Wollstonecraft."

Jude's eyebrow twitched, but they tried their damned hardest to keep a straight face. That disciplinary file was becoming the bane of their existence - only god knew how many they had accumulated over the years of 5 or 6 different high school expulsions - but the thought was stuck in their head, a nagging worry that persisted for the rest of that week. Jude wanted to read its contents, wanted to get rid of whatever they had.

The following Monday, an exact week before classes started, Jude found themself standing outside the Dean's office with bobby pins in hand, a bookbag over her shoulder, and a nervous kick in their chest. One of the teacher's assistants had let it slip that there was a faculty meeting that morning. The timing would be close. The dark shadows of the faculty building bore down on their fear as Jude rushed to complete their task, a task that could easily result in their expulsion. But a life on the edge was better than no life at all, in their opinion. Her warm hands bent the thin metal of the bobby pins easily, making a pick and lever to slowly but surely pick the lock of the dean's office door.

Shaking hands nearly ruined the entire gambit, but a soft click was all they needed to open the heavy wooden door. The only sounds in the space were Jude's heavy, stuttering breaths as the gravity of what they were doing continued to mount. The door quietly clicked open and Jude let out a long, smoky sigh, tiptoed inside, and closed the door as quietly as they could.

The dean's office was as one would expect; all dark wood furniture, the herringbone floor decorated with tacky old carpet, the curtains dusty, the lighting dim. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made the space feel smaller, an enclosure that pressed further and further into the stale air. They peered through the shelves and tried the handles of the filing cabinets behind the dean's desk. Almost nothing was labeled, which, what the hell, Jude thought, even I label my school notebooks, what a freak. The filing cabinets were locked, and Jude wasn't sure they wanted to waste time just yet trying to jimmy those locks, so they turned their attention to the drawers of Ms. Montgomery's large desk.

The contents of each drawer were meticulously organized, which didn't surprise Jude in the least. They knew Cecilia, the Dean's daughter, was an absolute neat freak. They had been lab partners once. Of course she must've gotten it from her mother. A couple minutes of carefully looking through each folder and file and the redhead was slowly becoming more and more frustrated. It must've been in the filing cabinet, but they were running out of time. Should've just went for that first, dumbass. Jude pulled open the next drawer a bit too roughly, and the contents inside jumbled and spilled from the force of it. In a moment, their worldview was shifted violently.

A familiar face caught their eye from a Polaroid picture on the floor, and the cherufe felt dread drop heavy like lead in her chest. They were staring down at the image of their feeble father, a photo of Jude at his bedside spoonfeeding him his medicine. Jude didn't think in that moment, only tore through the drawer, finding more and more photos, some Polaroids, some crisp prints in high quality, some weathered and older than imaginable. Familiar faces of students, moments of their lives captured, of their worst times, of their best times, collected and conveniently filed away. Jude found all four of their photos and almost burned them with the touch of their hands, pure anger and fear boiling in her. In that moment, whatever safety and security she had felt in Wollstonecraft, in a place they had considered a new home, was gone. There wasn't much time left, and so they shoved as many pictures as they could into their backpack, grabbing the most familiar ones, the ones that they knew she'd have to tell. The faces of their fellow peers stared up at them from the bottom of their old bookbag, and Jude choked back a sudden sob. What the fuck even is this? Why would she have this?

The photos sat in the back of their hidden drawer for the next month. Like the Telltale Heart, it called to her at night and ate away at their thoughts throughout the day. Each day, Jude locked the door of their dorm, sat on the floor, and spread the photos out. It seemed there was four photographs to a student, and so they went through each one meticulously, organizing them into little piles. Each student's pictures were paperclipped together and hidden away, until they finally organized everything they had. And there it stayed, well into the first month of school. Jude had no idea how to tell anybody, how to breach the subject of something so odd and awful. And, there was the fact that Ms. Montgomery did have eyes everywhere. It was something they couldn't just talk about in the middle of study hall, or in the dining area, or in the dorms. Jude needed privacy, away from prying eyes. Something to alleviate this newfound madness that was beginning to haunt behind their eyelids, a severe secret that they had no idea who to tell about.

What hurt deeply was that it didn't take long for Jude to fall in love with the place, before the incident and before their discoveries. It was hard not to - on campus, and in Blackcreek, the need to hide was gone. As long as they kept their abilities in check, Jude could live freely without fear, and it was like the warmth of sun on their skin after a long bitter winter.

That newfound freedom and trust was the first of many building blocks that helped convince Jude to continue school into their second year. Sure, she wasn't the shining example of perfect behavior, but it was clear that the cherufe needed direction in life that wasn't a path to self destruction. If it didn't work out, hey, at least they could say they gave it the good ol' college try. Thinking back on it now makes Jude's stomach turn.

But the semester now was going well, by the cherufe's standards. So far, they had only gotten in two fights and hadn't even started either of them! Exemplary behavior if you asked her. The videos were already viral, mainly because their fights were just a damn sight to behold. Fuck could she fight, and both times, their opponent was left laid out on the school's front lawn. Since they had been defending themself (and Jude happily "defended themself" with a bloody smile and an adrenaline rush), the disciplinary actions weren't serious. The semester went off without a hitch after spending a few months in Blackcreek and acclimating, and now the punk was crazy with some kind of cabin fever. The burning of knowledge, the need for distraction. Their fingers itched to do something fun.

Party planning had gone much smoother with the help of Silas, who had begrudgingly joined them for an escapade in Blackcreek only last weekend in search of a proper hidden spot. Jude dragged the witchboy through the streets of their strange sister town, and it was only as the sun went down did they find their perfect venue. A ways off from the main town square were abandoned buildings, possibly old factories or some kind of manufacturer, who had repurposed the expansive basements into something far more sinister. It could only be described as a dungeon, rusty chains hanging from musty brick, choked with cobwebs and old rotted wooden boards, contraptions that had been used long before they were born. Jude had clapped Silas on the shoulder and smiled with teeth, canines at the ready.

"It's fuckin' perfect, we'll send out the invites this week!"

And now, days later, the cherufe sat at the outskirts of their outdoor dining area of the cafeteria. A bone splinter bobbed between their teeth, picking out their day's lunch and second helpings.

"What the hell do you not understand about 'byob', read the fuckin' post..."

They grumbled at their phone, answering texts inquiring about the party with a leisurely pace. With each day growing closer their anxiety came in waves, waning and then crashing in all at once. Should they reveal the photos at their party? After the party, get everyone all buttered up first, soften the punch? Should she burn them? As the thoughts circled, Jude bit into another leftover bone and cracked it with their teeth easily, their mounting frustration evident with each exhale of smoke.

come here

dominic fike

♡coded by uxie♡