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Realistic or Modern Phantom Voices | ellarose & Syntra

No. No, no, no. Shit, this was so fucking wrong! Like waking up in the morning and finding out that a mad scientist had hacked off all of your limbs, only to sew them back backwards. Like knowing that he had forgotten a scalpel or two in the wound, too. (Thea didn't want to move, didn't want to look, didn't fucking want to exist at all, actually, but so far, the world had demonstrated a pretty consistent tendency to ignore her wishes. Yay for thematic cohesiveness! ...her own fucking body ignoring her wishes was certainly new, though. New, in a way that wasn't welcome at all. Why the hell did her feet carry her forward, closer to the blondie? Closer to the bed, where her friend was lying? Her heart was in her fucking throat, beating wildly, and Thea could barely hear her own thoughts over the endless stream of no, no, no, fuck, no. 'What is it, crow?' the demon chuckled darkly. 'Didn't you want this? I've been in your head for long enough to tell that this scenario is right up your alley! Just look at her. Do it. Come on, wouldn't it be fun to unwrap her? She's there, all dolled up, and waiting for... well, not you, certainly, but someone. That will do, won't it? I mean, expecting to be anyone's first choice would be kind of preposterous for you. Might as well savor this while it lasts!)

"Clara?" Thea asked, in a haze. (Still, still she could hear the bastard's voice, though she pretended not to. Retreating into herself probably wasn't the most brilliant-ass strategy when that was where the enemy was, but like, what was she supposed to do here? Destroy him with the power of love and friendship? Please, this wasn't fucking anime! ...maybe, if she thought happy thoughts loud enough, her ears would no longer register it. Easily, it could turn into anonymous background noise. Like, hahaha, who needed coping techniques when you could just restart your brain? A 10/10 solution, patented by the glorious Thea Holloway!) "Clara, what's going on?" she finally managed stutter out. But, shit, what a stupid fucking question that was! It was plain to see what was going on-- painfully obvious to the point that, automatically, her mind provided a convenient little visual. (Clara, giggling as she was being pushed into the mattress. The clothes spread over the floor, the pattern utterly chaotic. The funny little noises she made when...)

"Leave her the fuck alone!" Thea's anger exploded, directed at nobody in particular and literally everyone at the same fucking time. (At Ivy, for not respecting Clara's damn privacy. At Clara, for being there in the first place. At herself, for thinking that literally anything could be different with her, as if she hadn't learned that lesson many times over. Doomed to repeat her past mistakes, huh? Well, Thea had a funny life hack for that-- never stop committing them and, technically, they couldn't be classified as 'past!') "I don't... I'm not like you," she shook her head, as if trying to convince someone. Herself, maybe? "I don't need anyone to love me. Just because you are a desperate bitch doesn't mean that everyone else is the same, Ivy."

"Oh?" the blondie raised her eyebrow, in this inexplicably infuriating way. "Why are you dressed like one, then?"

Which, huh? The uniform she was wearing could have belonged to a Good Christian GirlTM, with the skirt ending so far below her knees, and... Oh. Oh, indeed. The mirror on the wall was twinkling darkly, and in it, Thea saw her reflection-- her painted lips, the dark mascara emphasizing the shape of her eyes, and the lace lingerie that showed way more than it hid. (Eh? Thea didn't fucking remember owning that, didn't remember putting it on, didn't remember... most things, come to think of it. Where yesterday should have been, there was but a confusing dark stain, growing wider and wider with each passing second.)

"Coming here, you knew exactly what was going to happen," Ivy purred, putting her arm over her waist. (The cold of the steel ran across her exposed skin, and Thea couldn't help but shiver. With what, though? Fear? Excitement? Disgust? ...the cut that marked her was a shallow one, barely deeper than one caused by paper might have been, but still, still it drew some blood. What a pretty shade, Thea thought, utterly mesmerized. Almost pretty enough to fucking die for.) "That's fine, though," Ivy gave her a disarming smile, and the brunette could swear that her knees fucking melted. "We all want this. We all need this. I'll let you in on a secret, dearest Thea: sometimes we just gotta channel our inner desperate bitch. So, what will it be? Will you die for the brat over there, or do you have something more fun in mind? After all, I deserve to have fun on our anniversary as well!"

"I... I don't know..." she protested weakly, but once again, her traitorous legs were nudging her towards the bed.

"Boo hoo, I don't know," Ivy mocked, a few octaves higher than Thea's voice actually was. "Man, this Victorian lady shit is getting hella boring. Let's see if I can fill your head with other things instead, hmm?" And, really, between all the confusion, the tingling in her belly and just how hot she felt, Thea could only grasp onto a single thought.

(Why not?)

(Clara didn't even like her that way.)

(Nobody did.)

(Feelings were for fucking suckers, weren't they?)

(Why the hell not?)

(...heh, maybe she was a desperate bitch. Figured.)

Their lips crashed together, in this chaotic, heated haze. Thea could taste Clara on her lips, Clara and her own blood and the bitterness of disappointment, and--

--and, naturally, that was when the door of the bathroom opened, entirely on its own. Whoopsie.

'Wow,' the demon chuckled in Clara's ear, 'I'm loving the newest episode of our little soap opera, I have to say. Is it really so surprising, though? Not to be mean, but crow really would settle for just about anyone. Be happy that you don't have to read her thoughts! I'll need some therapy for that myself.'
 
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Clara genuinely tried to ground herself. She washed her face after emptying her stomach, smearing red lipstick all over the washcloth. Then, with a few steadying breaths, she looked around for a spare change of clothes to no avail. They must've been in the room somewhere, piled on the floor or in a bag somewhere. Somewhere in the room where Thea and Ivy were. And she wasn't ready to come out and face either of them the way she was dressed right now. It was nothing short of humiliating to wake up like that, not knowing how she got there or what events transpired beforehand. The idea that she'd been intimate with Ivy tied her stomach in tight knots of disgust. They were over, the last time she checked. Even more than that, the idea that her friend had seen her in that state bothers on a level she can't quite explain. Well... she supposed she'd be just as uncomfortable if anyone had walked in at that precise moment of time. Like, if it had been Raoul she'd have died right then and there. It wasn't so strange, right? 'I got drunk? 'She tried to justify the gaping hole in her memories. 'I got drunk and made mistakes.' That was usually what happened when a person got drunk, after all. That phenomenon spawned countless love songs that were littered with that specific brand of grit and angst. Searching for warmth in the arms of an ex, et cetera, et cetera... but even then, Clara was confident that even if she was drunk, she wouldn't seek comfort from Ivy of all people. (Unless she was feeling especially self-destructive. You just don't seek comfort from somebody who hurt you like that. It'd have made much more sense if she'd called Thea in a moment of weakness instead and--) A swarm of butterflies swirled around the messy knots in her stomach with the thought. Oh. Was she even going to try to analyze that one? Her mind whirled the bathroom around her again and she held herself tight, pressing her back against the wall to hold herself steady.

No. She wasn't ready to feel anything right now. Clara held as tightly onto her defiance as she held onto herself. She wasn't ready to endure another heartbreak. It'd destroy her. Too bad that the bathroom door swung open at that same moment and those 'feelings' she'd been so scared of landed like a sucker-punch directly to that annoying heart she'd been trying (and evidently failing) to protect. Ivy and Thea? Thea and Ivy? Fuck, it didn't matter which order their names came in, because they were both leaning in, both participating, both... but why were they...

What am I looking at? Clara knew although she didn't want to know. She wanted to erase it from her mind, the same way the rest of that night had been conveniently erased from her mind. She wanted to deny that a sight like this could ever exist at all. Thea with... Ivy. With the person who...

They were kissing. They were kissing and as much as Clara tried to reject the reality of it, there was nothing she could do to change what was unfolding right before her eyes. The sight burned into her mind in spite of her wishes, tainting whatever small hope she'd built around the idea that one day she and Thea might be something more than...

Clara only wanted time to come to terms with it. To process. She wanted more than two days. That was valid, right? But apparently life was short and full of missed opportunities... and now Thea was kissing Ivy.

'Unless you possessed her.' Clara thought accusatorially, grasping for something that would make this make sense. That was all it was, right? Thea knew that Ivy hurt her, because she'd told her exactly that. And Thea was safe. Her friend wouldn't willingly participate in Ivy's heartless games, knowing what that might do to her. 'You possessed her and made her...'

'Denying the facts? That's so unlike you, raven.' The demon taunted, 'After all, how could I be possessing her while I'm right here with you?'

Clara shuddered. He had a point, didn't he? She just didn't want to believe it.

"Feeling better, darling? You always did have such a weak stomach." Ivy pulled away from Thea at some point to address her. "We decided we'd get started without you, but you're still welcome to join in. What do you say?" She frowned, then, holding up a perfect mask of faux concern. "Oh. You're still looking very sick. Poor thing. There's still room on the bed... we'll let you lie down. Why don't you just watch us for tonight?"

"Fuck you, Ivy." Clara packed so much venom in the words that, to her immense satisfaction, the woman actually flinched. All of the embarrassment she'd felt collapsed under the prospect that she needed to be anywhere but there. She didn't dare to glance at Thea. She didn't even stop to look for her clothes or even her shoes as she strode out of the bathroom and out of the hotel room altogether without once turning to see if either of them would try to stop her. Probably not. Obviously they were too busy drowning in each other to care that she was getting sick in the bathroom. The world pounded and swirled around her the further she went but she didn't let that stop her. She would call Raoul. Endure his lecture. Sleep in her own fucking bed. Comfortably alone where nobody could play with her or hurt her like this.

Back in the room, Ivy rolled her eyes and shed her mask of the doting girlfriend. "Always something with that one. Such an overdramatic bitch." She reached for Thea's hand and leaned in again. "Now where were we?"
 
It was… nice. Warm. You know how the Hollywood propaganda went, claiming that kissing was only good with someone who actually mattered to you? Yeah, that didn’t fucking check out. In her experience, kisses were more like pizza-- even a bad pizza was still a fucking pizza, actually, and when you couldn’t go to an “””authentic””” Italian restaurant that would make hipsters piss all over themselves from pure joy, the local pub dodging all the food hygiene audits would do. It had to, because, surprise, surprise, Thea still fucking had to eat! So, yeah, she did kiss back. Quite enthusiastically, too. Ever so proactive, she pulled Ivy closer, exploring every inch of her mouth and imagining that… well, that she was someone else. Literally anyone else. (Her not being such a fucking asshole would have been more than enough, but of course that her mind had to go further than that. At Thea Holloway Industries, you see, they went big or they went home! …under her touch, Ivy’s face morphed into the softer features of Clara. ‘Thea,’ she moaned, in a voice that she had never heard from her but was certain she could make, and a whole swarm of butterflies spawned in her stomach. A pang of guilt accompanied that, but so fucking what? Her fantasies were her own damn business, thank you very much! A girl couldn’t have everything that she wanted, but she sure as fuck could dream-- the brain juices she had wasted on producing the mental image belonged to her and only, so like, there were no investors who could get mad at her or anything. Haha! Who the fuck needed reality when you could create her own version of it, in full HD and shit? …in her head, nobody could break her heart, either. There would be no reminders of how worthless/annoying/hopeless she was, whispered in the dead of the night. That, um, was a plus.)

Sooo, those butterflies in her stomach? When the actual Clara barged in, they turned into fucking knives. Oh, she thought, with her mind that thought in the mental equivalent of slow motion. Oh, she’s still there. Well, duh, of course! Like, bathrooms didn’t generally serve as fucking teleportation chambers-- nothing generally served as a fucking teleportation chamber, given that the scientists of the world were clearly slacking and not working on the Important ThingsTM. In addition, Thea had never heard of a bathroom being a portal into a fucking Narnia, so it was pretty much guaranteed that whoever entered one was also bound to emerge from it. You know, from the same fucking entrance? And, in Clara’s case, that was bound to result in her witnessing… uhh, whatever the fuck it was that they were doing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! “Clara,” Thea muttered, her voice weak and pathetic. (Equally weakly, she pushed Ivy away. Why the hell was the world spinning? Like, she and gravity had a contract, and the latter was breaking all the rules so hard that she couldn’t even hear herself over the sound of reality being torn apart! …hell, it may have been her own heart that was breaking, too. Such a stupid, fragile thing.) “Clara, I can…” What? ‘I can explain?’ Technically, that was true-- the explanation was there, as ridiculous as it was. A whole bunch of them, even. (‘Sorry, friendo, it’s nothing personal! I just can’t help myself when I see some damn enthusiasm for once.’ ‘Disappointing people is what I fucking do.’ ‘Well, you couldn’t expect me to stay single forever, now could you? I’m not your fucking princess in an ivory fucking tower.’ ‘It wasn’t you, but it was the next best thing.’ How much of that was actually true? Was anything? Excuses and facts blended together, in a cocktail that felt utterly nauseating to even smell, and this time, it was Thea who was compelled to throw up. No, this couldn’t fucking be happening. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t!)

“Clara, don’t go, we should--”

To her infinite fucking horror, however, it seemed that Ivy was competing in the Asshole Olympics. More than that, she was hellbent on securing the golden medal for herself! Every fucking word, every fucking sneer of hers, was engineered to cause maximum damage, and Thea could only watch as she proceeded to break her friend down to atoms. (No, not just Ivy. Like, was she going to pretend that she was some innocent spectator in this? ‘Cause the messed-up hair and hickeys all over her neck sure as hell screamed otherwise.) “Fuck you, too,” she snarled, in what had to be a rare moment of clarity. “But not in that way. I changed my fucking mind, sweetheart. Delete my number.”

Not even bothering to look for her clothes, the brunette ran into the corridor. For some godforsaken reason, it was suddenly full of people, staring at her with clear judgment in their hollow eyes-- had she been in a better state of mind, she would have compared it to one of those dreams where you had to give a presentation at school only to find out that you had been naked all along. As it was, though? Honestly, Thea was pretty proud of herself for not breaking into fucking tears. What have I done? And why?

“Clara,” she finally grabbed Clara’s hand, trying her best to calm her breath down. (Spoiler alert: it did not fucking work. It felt like nothing ever would, too.) “Clara, it was… it meant nothing. I’m sorry. I, um, was bored? I think? And there were no boardgames to play, and I was dressed like that, and it seemed like a waste not to go for it. Fuck, it’s been years for me. Dry spells, right? They, um, make you do some pretty wild things. Anyone who says they’ve never tried to seduce a mannequin while drunk off their ass is a fucking liar, as far as I am concerned.”
 
Clara stopped but she didn't look at Thea. Couldn't look at Thea. Because seeing her would only remind her of the exact sight that she was determined to escape from. (Ivy and Thea with their hands all over each other. Their lips exploring each others skin. Who knew how far they would have gone with her in the other room had the bathroom door not opened when it did?) No. Neither of them were sorry. They might have been sorry that they got caught. But they couldn't have been sorry for their actions when they melted against each other like that. They kissed, knowing full well that she was in the other room. They enjoyed it, too. There was no going back from that... especially not with the way Thea was framing it now.

"You were bored. That must've been terrible for you." Clara repeated flatly, unimpressed. Hurt. After all, how many times had she heard iterations of that same excuse from Ivy herself? (Why would someone play with her, Thea had said, when they were in the golden age of video games? Except it felt a whole lot like she was getting played right now for believing that anyone might have her back the way she thought Thea did.) It went beyond just the kiss itself. Sure, it sunk just like a knife into her back. But neither of them had even cared enough to check and make sure if she was okay in there. She could have been drowning in her own vomit on that unsanitary bathroom floor and they would have just... she shivered violently as her imagination supplied the rest. Ugh. And she wanted so badly not to give any sort of reaction. She'd rather appear untouchable, unfeeling, heartless than vulnerable, delicate and all too breakable. (Maybe she could blame it on the cold. Her exposed skin prickled, she was standing out in public. She was determined to write this whole experience off as the terrible nightmare it appeared to be. Except she knew better than that. She knew better than to deny the facts.) "You and Ivy are perfect for each other, then. Clearly you'll never get bored if you're together so don't let the resident boring nerd ruin your fun or... you know, waste your time."

Clara yanked her hand away and wrapped her arms around herself. On the contrary, she wasn't going to kiss just anyone unless it actually meant something to her. And while she wasn't one to judge those who desired a physical fix of that sort on occasion, she certainly didn't want to be present to witness it. (Especially when it was between Thea and... Ivy of all people.) It'd been tossed right in her face like an insult to injury. And if she was the designated killjoy prude in this scenario, then she preferred to leave it altogether. She didn't belong there. No one wanted her. They wanted her company, her warmth, someone to hold and then drop the instant that someone better came along.

Ivy and Thea were beautiful, interesting and charming. Clara just brought them together. They didn't need her now.

'That's right. They're bonding over just how boring you are in comparison.' The demon cooed. 'Leaving you in the dust. You never stood a chance, little raven.'

There had to be a phone around here somewhere. Clara needed to call Raoul and go home as soon as possible. Bury herself under a pile of blankets until time eventually healed whatever damage was done. She would endure her own dry spell with ice cream and movies rather than unthinkingly hurt someone she considered her friend with an act of impulsivity. She'd expected that sort of behavior from Ivy... but not Thea. (Sure, she was impulsive. But not unfeeling. Not heartless. Or at least she didn't think so.) That was what made the blow all the more poignant.

"Just do me a favor and pretend like I don't exist. You did it easily enough back there. It shouldn't be too hard for you." Clara clipped, ignoring the fresh sting in her eyes. "I want to be alone, Thea."
 
Sooo, were you familiar with that feeling when you just knew you’d fucked up? When your mouth switched on autopilot, and your brain could only facepalm in the corner as it watched you getting ready to crash into the nearest tree? It was kind of like that here, except about million times worse. (Bored, huh. Out of all the possible explanations, that was the grand fucking narrative she had decided to go with? Boredom sorta excused you when you decided to marathon all those terrible Twilight movies, or when you drank way more than you should have, or… dunno, when you pretended to be a bigshot sociologist to see if they would publish your obvious shitposts in an acclaimed fucking journal. Kissing your not-gf’s ex, though? An ex who didn’t look like her twin, by any stretch of imagination? Yeah, Thea knew that she had just dug her own fucking grave-- the only ambiguity that was left here was finding out just how deep it was, and whether Clara cared enough to buy her a fancy coffin before throwing her in there.)

Spoiler alert: she didn’t. Oh, and while she didn’t have any measuring devices available, Thea Holloway’s humble assessment was ‘pretty fucking deep!’ “Clara,” she looked at her, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean it like that. Shit, I wasn’t bored with you. I, um, I think I bored myself?“ (A gentle, whitewashed way of putting it, but not necessarily a lie. A half-truth, if anything. Always chasing the next big high just so she didn’t have to look at what had become of her in those past few years was kinda close to avoiding lack of stimuli, wasn’t it? Just swap ‘boredom’ for ‘existential fucking dread,’ and it would be 100% accurate!) “I can be a boring bitch like that,” the brunette went on, ignoring all the signs that she was, in fact, making it even worse. Like, when you hit the rock fucking bottom, you couldn’t possibly sink lower, right? (Wrong. The Earth’s core was still waiting for you, face-meltingly hot, and eager to give you the kiss of death. Eager to burn you to fucking ashes. It wasn’t simple to get there, but when it came to self-destruction, Thea happened to be something of an expert.)

(‘Yes,’ the demon cooed. ‘Say it like it is, crow. You’ve burned that bridge already, so why not carpet bomb the ground as well? You know, just to make it obvious that you wanted this. That you won’t emerge out of this interaction as the designated loser. Nobody likes losers, haven’t you noticed? And she isn’t going to forgive you, nuh uh! Unlike doves, ravens don’t forget. They always remember who fed them, and who was unkind enough to throw a rock their way.’

And, as much as she hated to admit it? Thea could see the grains of truth in it all, shining bright against the dark background of lies. No, Clara didn’t forgive easily. She didn’t and she fucking shouldn’t, either.)

“Being inside of my head isn’t really a whole lot of fun. There are thoughts, and they’re loud, and sometimes, I don’t want fucking want them. So, um, this is easier. I guess. I’m honestly super shocked that I haven’t done this with more people. Besides, what’s wrong with spreading some love?” she shrugged, tying the metaphorical noose around her own neck. “It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” Ta-dah, there it went! The long-awaited snap, thunderous enough to shatter her entire fucking universe. (In hindsight, she guessed, it had been inevitable. What they’d had had been too good, you see? Too fucking fragile as well, and thus uncomfortable to hold in her clumsy hands. From the very beginning, she’d been destined to drop it-- drop it, and step on it, and then laugh to hide her tears. For her, that was the average fucking Tuesday.)

“Hey, don’t you think that you’re exagge--”

The world certainly didn’t think that Clara was exaggerating, though, because something yanked Thea backwards. Backwards, backwards, backwards, both into the past and a time that never had been, and…!

(Thea, lying on her bed, once again as pale as a sheet of paper. “Should we give her that one? I mean, she did try to ‹redacted›, but…”)

(Clouds of darkness floating all around her, almost lazily, but dodging every time she dared to extend her hand. “No, no, no! Bad Thea! Stay the fuck away, you dumb bitch. Nobody actually wants to get close to you.”)

(The photograph of her bedside table-- the one that her mother had bullied her into keeping, because ‘family values’ and ‘remember, you aren’t alone.’ Never again had she felt so alone as staring at that very picture, though, with her own likeness smiling back at her. That girl didn’t look like her at all.)

And, finally?

Finally, the scene settled on what seemed to be an underground laboratory, with her trapped in one of those giant fish tanks. The water was everywhere, choking the precious oxygen out of her lungs, and yet, yet she used her last energy to knock on the thick glass. “Clara! Cla--”

“Doctor Loveless,” the nurse gave Clara one of her warmest, most friendly smiles. (More than anything else, she still resembled a goddamn shark.) “You understand now, don’t you? Why bitches like her need to be left alone. It’s for your own safety, so no need to feel too bad about it. Come,” she tugged on her sleeve, “the time has run out. You are to tend to your duties now.”
 
Clara would have been inclined to listen to Thea open up any other day. When Thea talked, she listened. Unlike with most people, she found she actually liked to listen when it was Thea's voice she was hearing. As it was in that moment, however, her head pounded violently and the words she spoke turned all faded and cottony before they truly reached her. The damage was done at this point and talking it out just... wouldn't be enough right now. Plain and simple. (Tiredness, embarrassment, heartache. She felt all of it in spades and her tolerance for bullshit was at an all-time low. No matter what was said to excuse her behavior back there, it couldn't heal the damage already done. Until she rested and stepped away to clear her thoughts, all of it would ring hollow. Thea had said quite enough about it already. She was bored.) Oh. And she wasn't her girlfriend either, as she so kindly pointed out right at the end. (Of course she'd heard that bit loud and clear.)

"You're not my girlfriend." Clara agreed cooly. And yes, that fact accompanied a sharp stab in her gut. But it went way, way beyond that... didn't she realize? "But I thought you were my friend, Thea."

It was their friendship that coaxed Clara out of her shell these past few days. She'd been brave enough to speak up to countless strange adversaries, she caught Thea over and over again in the ringleader's twisted scenario, lunged after her when she was possessed by a demon, punched a nurse in the face. Helped her get away from the cops, nursed her wounds. (All these incredible things she never would've thought herself capable of, really.) Everything she'd done must've made it perfectly clear that she did not want to see her hurt. And yet for some reason, the universe was hellbent on putting her behind the trigger in these absurd doctor scenarios. The world itself seemed to blur and turn to cotton itself then. It crumbled and unfurled to present a brand new image. One that she instantly hated. (What if she'd rather aim the weapon at herself so that she could end this endless nightmare already? This scenario is the easiest to write off as such, with how detached it was from her reality. Like? As if someone with her poor credentials could ever get her PhD! Doctor Loveless? Pfft, okay. That was totally believable.)

'This again.' Clara thought irately. She pushed the nurse off of her and tossed the doctor's coat aside with the air of a woman who was, in fact, done. Then she immediately slammed the switches that would empty the water and let Thea out of the torture chamber. Because she was not a callous bitch, nor mindless enough to forget who she was long enough to let somebody drown right in front of her eyes. Even if that somebody hurt her feelings. She turned her annoyance on the nurse, unfazed by her razor-sharp grin. "In case you haven't noticed, I never applied for this position. Hire some other monster to play your sadistic murderess, because I'm not interested." She punctuated her sentence by, once again, punching a nurse in the face.

'Oh, come on.' The demon whined, clearly annoyed with her for refusing to go along with the carefully curated narrative. 'Just lean into it, raven. Have a little fun for once! This is why everyone thinks you're boring. Don't you want to get revenge? Hurt her the way she hurt you--'

'In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not a puppet that's going to act out your sick torture fantasies.' Clara seethed. 'Sorry, but I'm not stupid. Hurt and maybe boring, but certainly not stupid. I'm not one of your mindless followers. And after everything you've done? Oh, I'm not letting you win that easily.'

'Raven, you are really testing my patien--'

'Fuck off.' Clara brought herself to her feet and approached the tank. Her heels clicked sharply on the floor, ringing with an air of professionalism.

'Language! Crow is really a terrible influ--'

'You want me to kill her and you're really over there clutching your pearls over my language?' Clara rolled her eyes. 'Fuck off! I'll keep saying it specifically because you hate it now. Thanks for the ammo.'

That was exactly it. Exactly what was bothering her. Punishing Thea with death was just... messed up? Like, that went without saying! Messed up in a way there was no coming back from, even if it was just a nightmare. Friends didn't do that to each other! If they were still friends, that was. Whatever Thea had done, whatever they were, she didn't deserve to die in a watery grave. And Clara was getting so fed up with this narrative. Fed up enough to shatter that glass tank with a metal bat. (Which, no, she wasn't going to do that. Thea was inside and could get hurt. There were no safety goggles.) Why was it that everyone conveniently pretended that she didn't have a heart until they invented a scenario specifically designed to fuck with it? She was hurt and hurt because she was a human being. She wasn't some demoness on earth performing hellish tasks for a master like her father seemed to think. Not like one of those damned cultists that ruined their lives. Nor was she inclined to follow in their footsteps anytime soon, thank you very much. Clara was the kind of person who watched videos of cute kittens when she was down. She didn't watch grotesque horror films, let alone girls drowning in tanks.

Clara opened the door and walked unhesitatingly into the tank, knowing it'd be jarring to see the extent of the damage up close. Thea was so delicate and pale. So unlike the bubbly person she knew. Of course it hurt to see her hurting that way. Of course she didn't deserve this! And no matter what mess they were in the middle of, she was still very much inclined to incinerate whoever did this to her.

"Come on, Holloway." Clara sighed softly, reaching under her arm and ushering her against her side to support her weight as well as she can. "I know you're in pain, but we need to move. Okay? Listen to me. We've got to break out of this place before it tries to kill you again."
 
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She was dead. She was sooo fucking dead that Clara might as well hire a goddamn medium for their next nightmarish encounter, 'cause that shit was happening from beyond the grave! ...of course, Clara wouldn't. That was the entire point here. (Blah blah blah, reaping what you sowed, blah blah blah, bitches got stitches. And like, she had been a bitch to her friend, hadn't she? A nuclear, grade A, free-range bitch, raised on the diet of concentrated fucking idiocy! There was no other explanation for her... well, for her saying all the things she'd said. For shitting on the very foundation of their friendship, as if it wasn't the most precious thing Thea had ever had. 'Pathetic,' the demon laughed. 'You are aware that you've known each other for literal two days, aren't you? No wonder that you scared the raven off! You desperate, clingy, hot mess of a human that you are. Seriously, I'm of the opinion that this might be better for everyone involved. Just think about it. Trash ought to be disposed of, wouldn't you agree? And it's a big, big oversight on your society's part that you haven't figured out what to do with human trash yet.' Heh. Why the fuck did he have to keep dropping all those truth bombs? Soon enough, there would be a truth-shaped crater in her treacherous fucking heart, and... and nothing, because the water would take her first.)

In hindsight, Thea Holloway had always known it would end like this. What was the phrase, again? A foregone fucking conclusion? A bunch of big words for what she knew it to be-- a goddamn death sentence, hanging over her head like a dark cloud. Something evil and sinister that both was and wasn't a part of her as well. Hadn't Thea done it, after all? Her, and her terminal bitch disease? (I'm sorry, she thought, choking on her last gulp of air. I'm sorry that I fucking have to be like this. She was also sorry for not being a good enough friend, and for always running her big mouth, and for a million of other things, really, but how could you fit a world of regret into a few fucking syllables? You couldn't, and so she didn't even try. Not with any kind of seriousness.)

So, what would death be like? Would there be the fucking light at the end of the tunnel, and then the weighing of her heart? Shit, man, that was another exam Thea Holloway didn't want to know the result of! The fucking math class fiasco all over again, except that, instead of her mother's respect, her immortal soul was at stake. (Somehow, that terrified her less. Like, god himself wasn't too likely to emerge out of whatever dump he resided in solely to shame her, right? There would be none of that 'hurrr durrr, I expected better from you' nonsense, 'cause he was the fucking god and knew better than to expect anything but disappointment from Thea Holloway.)

Anyway, it turned out that death was, uhh... cold? Kind of like crawling out of a pool and discovering that the water was way warmer than you fucking thought it to be. Taking the air into her lungs, Thea began to cough, cough so loud that her entire frame shook, and-- Clara, she realized, once the voice reached her ears. She came for me. How, though? And why? There were sad, smoldering ruins where the bridge that had connected them had once stood, and yet the distance didn't fucking deter her. Had she just jumped across that abyss? (Stupid, stupid Clara. Didn't she fucking know to take care of her heart? To not give second chances to bitches that were just Ivy 2.0: Electric Boogaloo?)

"I'm sorry," Thea muttered, trying her best to ignore the way she'd called her. (Holloway, huh. Well, wasn't she at least a little bit hollow? After this experience, she sure as fuck would be.) "I... shit, I just am."

"And you will be even more sorry," the nurse hissed, melting out of the shadows. Which, fucking yikes! The punch Clara had so graciously given her? It hadn't disappeared, nor had she willed it away. You know how, in those cringey comedy sketches, they often threw a cake in some hapless victim's face? Well, her face did resemble the scene, except that, instead of whipped cream, blood was everywhere. Blood, and broken teeth as well. "That wasn't nice of you, doctor Loveless. Tsk, tsk. Don't you know that the doctors who aren't nice don't get to live? It really is like that." Swift like a serpent, her arm shot forward, and before they could even register what was happening? It ended up buried in Clara's chest, wrist deep. Thud, thud. "It is important for them to be able to earn the patients' hearts, you see? Kind of like this." With a big smile all over her broken face, she pulled her heart out of her chest, and--

"No!" Thea screamed. (Shadowy tendrils formed behind her back, uninvited. 'Hmm?' the demon raised his eyebrow. 'Claiming your wings for yourself, crow?' Interesting. Go on, show me what you're made of! Let's see who is the worthy successor here.') "No, you fucking can't!"

But then the entire world blended into a chaos of colors, black and blue and green, and when Thea opened her eyes, they were... well, at a hospital. A normal-ass looking, underfunded hospital, without any weird shit like murderous nurses or choke-happy mold. Above them, a (hot) girl roughly their age was standing, holding an empty ampoule in her hand. "Whew! You two sure did scare me," she grinned. "Clara and Thea, right? Golly gee, I'm so happy I found you in time! Can't you at least tell me the next time you try and take the trip down the memory lane? 'Cause good ol' Ivy would love to go with you."
 
Clara gasped as her eyes opened, the ceiling swirling above her. Somehow, she didn't expect to wake up from that. When the lights went out on her world, there was a part of her that genuinely believed that she would never open her eyes again. That nurse had reached inside her chest and torn her still beating heart outside of her body. Fragile and dripping red, out on display for everyone to see it there. (It served as a bittersweet reminder to everyone present, didn't it? That it existed, regardless of what everyone assumed. In spite of everything she had been through and everything she had done, it was still there. It wasn't rotten. It bled, it was vulnerable and human.) Nevertheless, there she was. In the hospital. Alive. Her heart was intact and slamming against her chest, which was also still perfectly intact. "Nnn..." A dull ringing permeated in her ears and it took a moment to ease the pattern of her breathing into something she considered normal. She was slick with sweat, lying in a bed relatively close to Thea, who appeared like she was faring about the same. Thea... Her irritating, heavy heart ached when she saw her face. But she hardly had any time to analyze her own feelings about everything that just transpired when she realized that they weren't alone.

"...Ivy." Clara muttered uncomprehendingly, her voice so quiet she might as well have just mouthed it. Ivy? What? This definitely wasn't the same Ivy she knew, wasn't the Ivy from those nightmares they just lived out... and yet the fact that this woman shared her name was suspicious. Suspicious with a capital s. Rubbing the side of her head, she tensed and narrowed her eyes slightly. Was this some other illusion? (No. She got the distinct sense that it wasn't. But what did this mean?) "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"I'm your star, ladies! Oh... that sounds weird, doesn't it? I swear I'm not saying that to be conceited. Look." The person who called herself 'Ivy' flashed her right wrist, revealing the 'XVII' branding in her skin. (...Seventeen, 'The Star'. Ah.) She lowered her voice conspiratorially, her forest green eyes flashing. "See? I'm an escapee just like you two. You can trust me." She stuck her lip out and tapped a finger to her temple. "I got the tip on your whereabouts from my voices. Looks like you guys were lured here and then given some experimental drug. I just gave you an antidote, so you're both gonna be okay... but you ought to take it easy for a while."

Clara breathed out shakily. Her head was pounding too violently to truly sort any of this out the way she wanted to. Another survivor? Really? Somehow she hadn't expected to meet anyone other than Thea who survived their ordeal... or at least not so soon. They didn't know of 'Ivy' before now-- so how was it that 'Ivy' knew of them?

"I've been looking for you guys ever since I heard all the fuss on the news. Sounds like you could use some help?" 'Ivy' continued to explain as if she'd somehow probed into her mind, "I've set up base in this secluded house in the woods. We'll be safe there. I can also hook you guys up with food, rooms... warm showers and a change of clothes? No offense, but you two look like you've been through hell."

Clara raked her fingers through her hair self-consciously and stared at the floor. Ugh. The room was still spinning like a carousel. She had so many other questions about... well, all of this. How did 'Ivy' know about the antidote? Where did she get it? And wasn't it a bit too convenient for her to claim the voices gave her those answers? (The voices in her own head were choppy and unreliable at best... and to her knowledge Thea's were similar in that.) Yet her knowledge and the branding on her wrist was also undeniable. Plus, why would she have given them the antidote at all if she meant them harm?

But it was still undeniably weird. Right? It sounded too good to be true and Clara had trouble accepting that this woman was offering them such a sweet deal out of the goodness of her heart.

"I figure you've got nowhere else to go, right? Us survivors need to stick together. Speaking of, we should probably skedaddle soon before those freaky-ass demon worshippers come back." Ivy glanced between them "Well... what do you say?"

Clara clutched the end of the bed tightly to ground herself and gave a slight shrug. "I'll go if Thea goes... I guess." They survived so much thus far... they could probably survive whoever this woman was, too? Uh. Probably. Provided she was even a threat. Which was to be determined at this point. She jumped when she heard a door slam. Then footsteps.

"Shit. I'd love to chat more, but time is of the essence!" 'Ivy' motioned her arms to encourage them to get up. She reached in her pocket and jingled a pair of car keys, offering Thea a wink. "What do you say, Thea? Wanna ride shotgun?"
 
Ivy. Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. Why the fuck did the name feel so familiar? And, like, not in a good way, either? (For some reason, the association her mind came up with was rum: rum, which smelled kind of nice but fucking burned your throat when you dared to swallow it. Rum, which had given her the worst headache of her entire life so far. Rum, which was utterly intoxicating, kind of like the feeling of her lips pressed against Ivy's-- oh. Fucking oh. Well, well, well, would you look at that? If it wasn't the consequences of her own actions, no longer content with dwelling in the nightmare realm! Nah, mate. They'd crawled out, the way puss flowed out of an infected wound, and Thea could only think about fucking drowning in them. 'What a lovely mental image,' the demon grinned. 'It suits you, though. I can totally see your spirit reflected in it! You are what your imagination supplies, don't you know? And, within your mind, there are many, many twisted things, crow. So twisted that I'm shocked they haven't strangled you yet.')

Thea raised herself on her elbows, ready to tell the woman to fuck off with her temptations, but... huh. It wasn't actually her, was she? Surprise, surprise, motherfuckers, it turned out that multiple people could share the same name! (...whew. With the Nightmare!Ivy stuck where she belonged, Thea could shove all of her cheating-related thoughts under the nearest rug. Like, it wasn't even cheating per se, you know? Because Clara wasn't her girlfriend, as her asshole self hadn't failed to point out. As far as she knew, Thea also hadn't signed up any contract re: having some good ol' fun with her exes. Morality-wise, she was as pure as freshly fallen fucking snow! ...which, of course, was why she didn't want to talk about it. Bragging about your moral purity was kind of a weird Catholic thing, and while Thea could be described as weird, she wouldn't touch Catholicism with a ten-foot pole.)

"Uhhh... hello?" she raised her eyebrow, feeling way too groggy for any of this. Another survivor, huh? What was fucking next, the touching reunion with her long-lost twin sister? Her meeting her dead dog, who had secretly been the mastermind all along? (Despite all of her usual edginess, though, Thea also couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. It was... kind of nice, wasn't it? To meet someone who was as knees-deep in this shit as they were, and wasn't trying to kill them. A welcome change of scenery.) "Wow, star lady, don't you think it's a little too soon for you to suggest that we go home with you?" Thea smirked, running purely on autopilot at that point. (Something, something, don't go anywhere with strangers? Then again, the same shit-ass rules also claimed that you should call the cops whenever you were in trouble, so maybe the entire fucking handbook should burn in hell.) "I mean, you haven't even bought us a fucking drink."

"Oh?" Ivy gave her the sweetest smile, all the while ignoring Clara ostentatiously. (And, judging by the eyes she made? You wouldn't be too weird for assuming that they found themselves in an entirely fucking different setting-- like, a bedroom, maybe.) "Well, that I can do. The pleasure would be mine. Us meeting like this does warrant a little private celebration, don't you think?"

"Shit," Thea laughed, the heat rising in her cheeks, "not gonna lie, you had me when you mentioned the shower. Hearing this, though? I can't say no to such a compelling fucking argument. C'mon, Clara! Of fucking course that we'll go. You gotta tell us all about your survivor experience, too. Are your voices this loud as well, or did I get some broken edition? My luck with electronics is the worst, so like, it wouldn't shock me if it extended to supernatural bullshit as well."

"Jesus Christ, you're still the same," Ivy giggled. "Those years didn't change a fucking thing."

There wasn't really anything left to discuss, and so, moments later, they found themselves nestled in Ivy's car. "Man, I still can't believe I found you like that!" the girl happily prattled on, even as the engine roared. "Not that you made it too difficult. Like, are you trying to get noticed by the cops? Because, trust me, they have. There's not a single news session without at least two mentions of the 'dangerous psychopaths on the run.' Seriously, if I were you, I wouldn't show my face... well, pretty much anywhere. At this point, it's like you have a 'please, arrest me' sticker plastered allll over your foreheads." The car jolted to movement, and Ivy grinned into the mirror. "Don't worry, though, because auntie Ivy is here! I'm not going to let those assholes hurt you again. Shit, we gotta catch up. You do remember me, don't you? 'Cause my memories are loud and clear. Still as awesome as always, Thea? And what about you, Clara, did the name change teach you how to speak? I'm genuinely trying to think of a situation where you weren't just standing in the corner and giving everyone murderous stares, but alas," she chuckled.
 
Private celebration? Clara didn't mean to, but she noticed the way Thea's cheeks reddened at that. And she definitely caught the way she had called it a compelling argument. The implications were obvious, weren't they? And something that she suspected became increasingly clear to her in that moment as she recalled Thea's cute little flirtations when she'd invited her to stay at her place the night before. You called it, so why are you surprised? That's just how she is... Then why was her stomach sinking down, down, down with disappointment like a heavy anchor? Threatening to drown her? So what if you weren't special? Of course you weren't special. She's like this with everyone. See? Her mind knew all along that her heart was a damned fool for fluttering during all of those moments they'd shared. Their initial connection seemed scarily magnetic to her, moving much too fast to be real. In reality, she was taking Thea's sense of humor way, way too seriously. Making a big deal of something that was just frivolous and fleeting. 'Ivy' on the other hand was able to dish it right back with playful banter, perhaps behaving like a normal person did in the midst of an actual conversation. To Thea, her presence must have seemed like such a relief. The way they looked at each other... well, she might as well have not even existed in that moment.

Even as they piled into Ivy's car to be taken to safety, a selfish part of her mourned the dynamic she and Thea had shared on their own. It just wasn't going to be the same after this, was it? It never was. Three was a crowd, as the saying went. Sensing 'Ivy' and Thea's chemistry right away, Clara knew she was already condemned to being the quiet one, the odd one out who faded into the background. In other words, the expendable one in the group. The one who was kept around on principle and principle alone. (Or maybe her head's just being excessively harsh because she's tired and needs to sleep already. They've been though way, way too much in the past two days.) She took the back seat by herself without comment, staring out the window at the passing trees and feeling like a little kid again. Like a third wheel out on a date with Raoul and one of his girlfriends. Except this was worse, somehow.

Clara wasn't even sure where she stood with Thea anymore. And to the rest of the world, apparently now she was a 'dangerous psychopath'. Somehow, she felt in that moment that she was doomed to be miserably alone until she died. Probably about time that she made peace with that fact. (You're just tired. Stop being so dramatic.) Except it didn't seem so dramatic. Her world had been effectively turned upside down. Wasn't it fair, then, that she wallow a bit? That she acknowledge the harshness of her reality for what it was?

Clara was trying to zone out, to make herself comfortably numb so she didn't have to feel so wrecked and twisted up inside... but of course Ivy was determined to make conversation. Did the name change teach her to speak? Really? She glared daggers at her.

"Oh, yeah. Just like that!" Ivy laughed breezily, taking it annoyingly well. "Classic Clara! Ease up a little, okay? You've got nothing to prove. Your resting bitch face is still fucking legendary."

Yeah, Clara was fine hearing that sort of thing from Beth. Beth was her friend. This woman, though she claimed to remember them, was not.

"Must be spent, huh? I don't blame you. Geez... I remember you'd get tired real easily, too. Feel free to nap. I won't be offended if you need to catch some Zs!" Ivy continued speaking before Clara could think of an appropriately scathing answer to... whatever that was. The familiarity was strange and didn't sit right with her. Probably because she was a total stranger. Then she grinned at Thea in the passenger's seat in a way that was way too cozy for her liking. "I know Thea here will keep me company." She poked her with her elbow. "Right? You always have something to say."

"Huh. I find it strange that you remember us... 'cause neither of us seem to remember you." Clara deadpanned, examining her nails. "I wonder why that is."
 
Hey! What kind of anti-Clara agenda was that? Like, Thea herself wasn't above a playful jab or two, or even above turning your victim into a fucking insult pincushion, but this seemed to be going a little too far. "It's not a resting bitch face," she defended her friend (?), allowing herself to sink into the seat of the car. "That's just what she looks like, my dude. And, um, when she wants to, she can smile real pretty, too! But you gotta give her a fucking reason for that and that isn't going to happen if you're going to be like this."

Ivy grinned into the mirror, showing off her perfect, toothpaste-tier smile. "Oh, right. I forgot you were the designated Clara whisperer! You were always whispering to each other in the corner and I was wondering what kind of magic got her to speak! Now I think I know, though. It was Thea magic." Which, wow! That was, um, something. Especially since Thea didn't really get a lot of attention from pretty girls, you see? Like, they did generally see the light when she won them over with ~the power of her character~, but rarely did it happen that they were the ones to actually initiate this shit. (Was Ivy even initiating, though? Thea's gaydar had once been calibrated to utter fucking perfection, but after the recent Clara fiasco... well, let's just say that maybe some fine-tuning may have been in order. Like, tons and tons and tons of it, before she tanked another friendship with assumptions, kisses and general fucking cringe. Ugh! That one time she had tried the Rapunzel method on the unconscious Clara would haunt her in her nightmares, she just fucking knew it.) "For sure! I can fucking entertain you," the brunette nodded happily, somehow ignoring the deadly vibes coming from the backseat. "I'm real good at that, too. I can keep going for the entire night!" Oof. Oof x100. How the fuck did it happen that, without fail, her mouth resorted to 'generic pick up lines' when talking to pretty girls?! (Actually, Thea figured it was some sort of evolutionary adaptation. Not even fucking joking. Lesbians were in the minority, so in order for them to find a gf, they had to talk to a bigger number of people-- therefore, it totally made sense to try and find out early on who was and wasn't receptive. Even so, couldn't her lonely fucking heart shut up for a minute? 'Cause there was the cult and the demon and Clara, who was still a big-ass question mark, and--)

"How should I know?" Ivy chuckled, her tone breezy. "I'm not responsible for the lapses in your memory, sweetheart. But, if I had to guess, maybe the drugs they gave us during that last night affected you harder? This shit can be pretty unpredictable. Don't worry, though! I am not blaming you at all for forgetting me, even though it pains me to hear it. In the end, you are the ones to miss out, as I'm objectively pretty awesome. Still, though! That means we get to have more fun, huh?" she winked at Thea, sending an exited jolt of electricity down her spine. "Getting to know people is the most hype part of a relationship, I think. And I intend to get to know you very, very well." Oookay, so that fucking line? That fucking line almost had steam coming out of her ears, and she couldn't help but chuckle, half in disbelief and half in giddy anticipation. (Alert, alert, alert!!! Her chances of Actually ScoringTM were increasing drastically, and that hadn't happened in such a criminally long time that Thea just didn't know how to react. The issue of her not being Clara was... well, an issue, but that went for everyone aside from Clara, right? And since the actual Clara didn't appear to be interested, she had to get over this sooner or later. Sooner, she decided. Sooner would be fucking optimal.)

The hideout, as Ivy had referred to it, could barely be called a shack, but its roof was intact and there seemed to be some sort of indoor plumbing, which meant that Thea's standards were met.

"Welcome to the Ivy palace, princesses," their host bowed, all theatrical. "I'll be happy to have you."

"No, I'll be happy to have you," Thea blurted out, whatever that fucking meant. "I... I mean, when I invite you somewhere. Which I will, probably. If you want to." Ugh, smooth talk/10! Jesus fucking Christ, she needed to get a fucking grip before her big-ass mouth ruined everything again. "But, um, I'm calling dibs on the shower! Sorry, Clara, but I'm just that much more disgusting than you. Therefore, by the divine fucking law, I should get to go first."

"Feel free to," Ivy chuckled. "Not that I think that that's true. Don't worry, though! I'm sure me and Clara aren't going to kill each other in the meantime... unless she learns how to make her murderous glares do actual damage. If that happens, I'm screwed."

Laughing, Thea shut the door behind herself, and Clara was left alone with their suspicious maybe-friend. "Well, what are you waiting for? Sit down! I have bought some food, too, so if you want to, I can prepare something for you. Stir fry? I know Thea loves stir fry." The babbling was almost as inane as Ivy herself was pretty, but, you know, that probably wasn't what caught Clara's attention. Not when she noticed what looked like Spook's collar peeking out from under the couch, covered in... what was it? Blood?
 
Clara slunk off to the side, wrapping her arms around herself as she listened to Thea offer Ivy an 'invitation'. The kind of invitation that had obvious connotations. (The kind that dredged that stupid hotel scene back into her mind. Which... out, out, out! She didn't even want to think about it anymore.) It seemed now, every word Thea spoke effectively drove another knife through her heart. And to think that before she used to build up entire alternate universes of safety for her to lose herself in solely with the sound of her voice. That special magic they contained had somehow withered and died. Every step Thea took towards Ivy distanced her further and further away from Clara. (...Ah. Well, she guessed that meant Thea’s previous offers for coffee and dinner were officially off now? Seeing as she was going to be too busy hitting Ivy up instead and all. Because they were just friends... and just being friends wasn't clearly good enough to hold her interest for more than a day or so. And Ivy, unlike her, was apparently more than happy to oblige. Well. Fucking good for them, she guessed.) 'No. Stop that.' She stressed silently. It wasn't like they were girlfriends, as they'd both so helpfully pointed out to each other before. Yeah, true. Except that reminder doesn't help her in the slightest. She's exhausted, sore and hurt and perhaps feeling lonelier than ever. She doesn’t find the will to look up from the ground when Thea takes the shower for herself. 'I don't want to see her smiling like that at anyone but...'

Ugh! What a mindfuck. Thea... Thea wasn't even hers to lose! So why the hell was she feeling this way? It was all so confusing. Clara pinched herself to remind herself that she wasn't sleeping, because life itself still felt very much like a drug-induced nightmare to her. It was more than just feeling left out, though. It was Ivy herself. 'Her name... it's too specific to be a coincidence.' That might be jealousy and irrationality talking, but she had other reasons to back up her claims! 'And she knows way too much.'

Unsettlingly so. For instance, it seemed like a weirdly manipulative and convenient setup for this 'Ivy' to remember seemingly everything about them while they remembered nothing in turn. (And no, the fact that she memorized one of Thea’s favorite foods wasn’t what bothered her about this!) It was the fact that she could spin any narrative she chose at that point onward making these kinds of claims, taking advantage of the things they had forgotten. Just because Clara couldn't figure out her motive right now didn't mean that she wouldn't eventually. This could easily be some cultist who slapped a branding on her wrist and lured them out into the woods to off them the moment they turned their backs. Wouldn't that make sense, anyway? For one of the cultists to know absolutely everything there was to know? Sure, this 'Ivy' seemed more or less their age... but who was to say that the murder cult hadn't recruited some younger members since they'd escaped? That guy who'd chased them out in the woods before sounded pretty young himself. It wasn't that far-fetched! They shouldn't have bought anything she tried to sell them. They'd been so stupid! They should've refused her.

'Aw. You're just upset that you can't compete with a nightingale. They have the most beautiful voices, you know.' The demon taunted, 'A quiet little raven like you never stood a chance.'

'Shut up.' Clara couldn't think of anything better to refute with. The demon would have known the answers. But she knew that he wouldn't give them up if it meant watching her squirm.

'Ah, but I did try my best! I told you time and time again that crow would like you more if you embraced a little more chaos.' The demon sighed like a disappointed teacher, 'If you were a little more fun. But you didn't listen. And now look at the mess you're in! Always neglected by the ones you love the most, hm? When everyone else is gone, just remember that I'll never leave your side.'

"Sure." Clara offered in reply to food, if only to keep Ivy from questioning her prolonged silence. That, of course, was the same exact moment she lost any appetite she might've built up in the several hours she'd gone without food. Because seeing Spooks's collar covered in blood nearly made her empty whatever was left in her stomach right there on the carpet. 'What? No.' Her heart slammed in her chest, she physically felt the color drain from her face, and the world as she knew it was reduced solely to the pounding she felt in her head. As difficult as it'd been to do, she left Spooks in front of an animal clinic by the hospital, considering it the safest course of action within her limited means. But the risk of leaving her, the fear and guilt was prominent more than ever now... 'No, no, no, no, no.' Clara pinched her arm again, hard, hoping that she might wake up. Her skin was already bruising in the spot she'd been picking at.

Clara's hands trembled violently as she snapped it up into her hands to get a closer look, as much as dread warned her against it. It was the exact purple collar that Spooks always wore, down to every loose thread. It felt wet and all too warm. (Maybe they didn't escape the nightmare at all. Maybe Ivy didn't bring them here for safety. She was going to cook her beloved dog into stir fry and force her to watch Thea eat it or something, specifically to torture her!) Fresh tears burned in her eyes as she turned the name tag over in her hands the metal flashed so brightly that it nearly blinded her. With a little gasp, she dropped it and stumbled backward onto the floor, slamming her elbow hard against the corner of the coffee table. Ouch. Her pain was insignificant compared to looking at the name on the collar though. It couldn't belong to Spooks. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't... (Not again. Not another innocent pet murdered, please--) And apparently it wasn't? Because when she looked at the 'collar' again, she saw nothing but a perfectly unbloodied belt. Which, sure, that part was a massive relief but? Okay. Okay... but it definitely was a dog's collar! And it had been stained with blood! She saw it.

"...bleeding! What happened!?" Ivy's voice finally snuck past her trance and Clara jerked away from her. Too close. "Geez, you're shaking. Poor thing. You've obviously had a rough night. Come on, let's get you up."

Clara loathed how easy it was for Ivy to slip her hands under her arms and lift her from the ground before setting her down on the couch. The bile was thick in her throat and made it impossible for her to utter a sound of protest. It was only after she that that she noticed a massive cut in her arm where she'd hit the table, with blood streaming down in thin, veiny currents.

"Can you keep an eye on the stir fry for me? Just make sure the place doesn't burn down while I'm gone. I'm gonna go grab the first aid kit." Ivy thrust her thumb towards the back hallway before jogging out of sight, continuing to act the part of the concerned host. Clara was feeling less generous and far less inclined to believe her now more than ever.

'What's wrong with me?' What was that? Clara stared long and hard at the belt on the floor. The belt that was once a bloody collar. And not just any collar-- Spooks's collar! Did Ivy somehow mess with her head? (And maybe that sounded far-fetched, but so did everything else she and Thea had endured over the past few days. She couldn't rule it out.) Was this a new symptom now that she let the demon worm his way even further into her mind? Or maybe it could've been a hallucinogenic side effect of those drugs? Whatever it was, there were too many unanswered questions. It certainly formed dark, foreboding clouds over her head. Dead dogs, even just the concept of them, were a bad omen. (If she thought about dead dogs too much, it just made her want to burst into tears. Especially when the dog in question was her dog. Her baby. Who would dare to lay their hands on an innocent animal who had done nothing wrong!?) In the aftermath, panic wound itself so tightly around her throat that she couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. She was suffocating. Spooks... she was okay? Right?
 
"Clara? You alright?" The question sounded genuinely concerned, or maybe it would have had it not been for the look in Ivy's eyes-- you know, the one that said that she found the entire situation mildly amusing at best. "Shit, stop making that face. Almost looks like I killed your beloved puppy or something! Or are you this afraid of doctors?" she blinked her long, long eyelashes. (Unbearably fucking long, Thea probably would have said. It was the kind of gaze a woman could easily get lost in, and really, hadn't that happened to her friend? Probably not her fault, either, considering just how magnetic it was.) "Come on, don't be such a drama queen. I know that the whole hospital thing must have been a reeeal fucking drag, but that still doesn't mean that anyone with a first-aid kit wants to murder you. Only like, 50% of people are likely to want that! Well, in your case, the numbers could be closer to 60%, considering that you never really smile. Have you heard that women who don't smile are way more likely to end up as murder victims? Super interesting stuff." Yeah, and wasn't it also super interesting how the topic of their conversation turned about a hundred shades darker once Thea wasn't there? Definitely, uh, a fascinating coincidence. (If it was one. Wouldn't it be oh so easy for Ivy to grab a knife from the counter, and finish what her own clumsiness had started? To fucking end her then and there? 'I'm sooo sorry, Thea,' she would explain, crocodile tears in her eyes, 'but I couldn't call an ambulance for her. It was so sudden, I had no idea what to do! And everyone is looking for us, too. Shit would have been too risky. Isn't it better to get rid of the boring nerd instead? Clearly, that was just a conspiracy theory, however, because Ivy did nothing but bandage her arm. ...for now.)

"Seriously, though. What the fuck were you thinking? Trying to exorcise that demon, huh? I don't think you can just cut it out like that, my friend," Ivy giggled, as if she just hadn't slipped into a serial killer persona a few seconds ago. Okay! Okay, why not. Maybe it was just some innocent quirk of hers-- kind of like when edgy teenagers talked about death to convince themselves that they were just that much more hardcore than their peers. "Trust me, I've tried. Anyway, come cook with me? I can't risk you impaling yourself on my lamp or something. Thea would have been heartbroken!"

The smell of the stir fry was mouth-watering, although it also felt... well, a little off? No matter how much Clara picked her brain, you see, it was almost impossible to put in any existing mental category of hers. "Confused?" Ivy smirked, as if she'd read her mind. "I've used a couple of secret ingredients, I have to admit. After all, I wanna impress my beloved guests." Secret ingredients? Secret ingredients such as, say, dog meat? "It's an old family recipe! Maybe, if you're nice enough, I'll tell you what they were once you've eaten it. You have to earn that knowledge, Clara." Because, uh, that was totally not creepy at all! Nothing about this was screaming 'psycho alert' or even 'get the hell out of there while you still have your legs.'

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I wasn't able to prepare better lodging conditions for you guys! I would have loved to welcome you with something better than this," she placed her hand on her heart, oh so earnestly, "but I'm not a fucking millionaire. No can do. Speaking of which," Ivy turned around to face her, "I only have a bed for two in my bedroom. So, maybe you could sleep on the couch? I mean, I do know how much you value your privacy! I definitely wouldn't want to put you into any kind of uncomfortable situation. And besides," the woman giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl now, "I'm sure you noticed how things are with me and Thea. I wasn't planning for this at all, but damn! The energy between us... fuck, it's insane." The words themselves were bad enough, but the way she closed her eyes and shuddered, doubtlessly imagining all the hypothetical ways of spending it? That was infinitely fucking worse. Graphic, somehow, even if she at least had enough common sense not to share any of those fantasies. "So? Will you leave us alone for a while? If you need a bribe, there's some ice-cream in the freezer."
 
Clara's expression turned a dark shade of unimpressed when Ivy referred to her beloved puppy. (Especially considering the fact that she'd so helpfully inserted the word 'killed' into the same sentence she'd used it in.) Excuse her? That reference was way too specific to be a coincidence. And it hit way too close for comfort after seeing the bloody collar, as if she'd somehow read her mind. The same exact way that the demon does. Now this cheap, mockup 'Ivy' was officially dead to her for it. 'For your own sake, I hope you didn't touch Spooks. Bitch.' Otherwise, she'd already killed a few assholes today to the point that adding one more to the body count wouldn't really be such a big deal for her. (Okay, it would be a big deal. But the anxiety and stress was talking now and over exaggerating everything.) This Ivy's probability of being murdered was quickly spiking up to 100% if she was, in fact, a confirmed dog-killer. Because nothing was more despicable than that.

As if this woman was determined to make matters even worse (which it certainly seemed like she was) she prattled on and on and completely negated Clara's panic attack by calling her a 'drama queen' in the process. Ah. It was such a quintessential 'Ivy' tactic that she kind of wanted to cry tears of hate. Seriously? It was as if the universe had specifically constructed a person with the express purpose of making her life a living hell. And okay. Maybe Ivy was being painted in a villainous light by all these poorly timed coincidences. But it was weird. Right? It was weird for reasons she couldn't define right now beyond the fact that she was hinting at having killed her dog with the mysterious power of illusions (which did not sound even remotely believable)... but she would know eventually. Just needed to keep her cool in the meantime. She just... she just needed to sleep. A restful night's sleep would iron out at least some of this uncertainty, she was sure.

Of course, Clara didn't betray any of the thoughts or narratives forming in her head as she wore a neutral expression of vague annoyance. She just followed Ivy at her prompting without comment.

"I'm not confused. Sorry, I was actually going to say that the smell is starting to make me nauseous. I should probably eat something milder after all of the excitement." Clara was nauseous, so that part was technically the truth. What she didn't say was that she wasn't even remotely inclined to eat whatever the hell this mystery concoction was. Nothing this woman cooked up was ever going to touch her lips as far as she was concerned. (More than that, she needed to make it abundantly clear that she wasn't going to respond to Ivy's coy little 'jump' with a 'how high?'. She had to be nice to earn it? Ugh. No thanks! It rubbed her in all the wrong ways.) She shrugged, already predicting what kind of disappointed but cutesy theatrics the woman might utilize in response. "I know. My loss, right? More for you and Thea, I guess. Either way, I really think you should really disclose the ingredients you put in your food before you serve it. We're total strangers. What if she has some kind of allergy that you don't know about?" She lifted some of the boxes on the counter and examined their labels. Unless 'Ivy' was a weird stalker who knew already everything in advance. Or unless triggering some kind of freak allergic reaction was actually her motive all along.

"Huh. I can't say that I noticed anything at all between the two of you. Thea was acting the same as she always does." Clara deadpanned with an unimpressed shrug, deciding not to humor Ivy's overtly lustful angle as she seethed quietly on the inside. No way. Not on her watch, all right? That was not going to happen! (And sure, Thea was a big girl who could make her own damned decisions... but sometimes it was necessary to draw a firm line in the sand. Especially when it came to potential murderous, dog-killing stalkers.) Until they confirmed that this woman wasn't actually going to kill them in their sleep, she couldn't let them hide away together behind closed doors. "I had no trouble sharing my bed with her yesterday. Platonically. So it isn't that big of a deal. To be honest, I think I'd feel safer with her after everything we just went through?" She drummed her fingers idly on the counter and gritted her teeth. Keeping Thea safe. That was what this was about. (Not the kisses. Not the intimacy. Not because the idea of hearing their noises through the walls at night made her want to die on the inside. Of course not!) Thea was buying whatever this woman was trying to sell her, hook line and sinker... and it was moving way too fast to be based upon anything real. This 'Ivy' person clearly wanted Thea in her pocket for all the wrong reasons. And whether that was really just intimacy or outright murder was still yet to be determined. "You can keep your room for yourself, Ivy. I wouldn't be that invasive. I'll even take the floor and let Thea take the couch if need be."

Clara sighed inaudibly. Still. Still. There was only so much she could do about these developments. There was a very real possibility that Thea might refuse the alternative she'd come up with altogether and take Ivy up on the offer without once looking her way. Because she could very easily come up with some kind of anecdote on all the reasons why she prefers to sleep on beds instead of couches (and prefers Ivy over Clara) and then there'd really be nothing she could do to stop it. Ugh. It was going to be a long, stressful night.

"Anyways... I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I had a glass?" Clara tried on a casual tone, considering that Ivy was such a 'good' and bubbly host, and held the bottle of wine she'd found out as she reached for a glass. "I'm sure you noticed earlier, but I could really use one right about now."
 
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"Oh, really?" Ah, there it was again-- the signature pretend concern, as fake as her hair color. (Platinum blonde? Really? You might as well announce to the world that you were suffering from about sixty thousand different insecurities, because that was exactly the message you would be sending by that """power move""".) "But you totally should eat something, Clara. If you don't, there will be consequences. Like, I bet you will start hallucinating and shit! There's no telling what sort of nonsense your malnourished brain will feed you. Then again..." her eyes narrowed somewhat, "...you didn't eat much at the cultist camp, either. Even at five, you fucking thought everyone was going to poison you. Still believe everyone is out to get you, Clarikins?" Ivy giggled, and if there was an award for the most annoying laughter in the world, she definitely would have won it then and there. "Not blaming you, though. I mean, the whole murderous cult thing does kind of breed those mindsets." Without bothering to explain much else, Ivy turned around and tended to the food. And, judging by how quickly her hands worked? It genuinely might have been a family recipe, or at least something she had prepared approximately hundred times by now. (...hopefully no dogs had been harmed in the process, right? Right?)

Of course, Clara's defiance did force a reaction out of her. "Awww!" Ivy pursed her lips. "Nothing, you say? That probably means I should try harder. Like, not sure about you, but I don't want to waste such a golden fucking opportunity. Thea is just... no, you wouldn't get it," she waved her hand, as if she was a physics professor trying to explain the theory of relativity to a bunch of fucking plankton. (Ugh! Where had all that contempt even come from, anyway? Wasn't she supposed to be a goody two shoes, helping them out of the purity of her own heart? Their shining star? And yet here she was, playing so hard against the archetype that her script was falling apart.) "But also, maybe you just aren't that observant? Not trying to be mean, but, you know... your social skills... they could use some honing. Have you tried reading one of those self-help books?" she tilted her head aside, all innocent. "I think some are upstairs! You can flip through them when me and Thea are busy." 'When,' not 'if'. The way she emphasized the word also left no room for any ambiguity-- her hungry, wolfish smile told Clara more details than she ever needed to know. (More than anyone needed to know, most likely. She wasn't even doing anything nsfw, so how did it feel so dirty? How did that gaze of hers crawl under your skin so easily?) "You really are no fun, though. Unless..." her smile grew, and that couldn't have been good news, "...unless you're doing it to learn something. Oh well. I guess privacy is fucking overrated, anyway!" Uh, what? Could Ivy be implying what she totally was implying? (A funny little coincidence, in the sea of all the other coincidences. How interesting, right? That she mirrored the Ivy from their nightmare so perfectly, down to her disgusting suggestions.)

"Yay, wine is a girl's best friend!" she switched the topic, as easily as a kid might pick a new toy. "Go ahead, Clarikins. I have a feeling that you'll be much more fun when you loosen up a bit. Like, no need to be this sour, right? Don't forget that this is our touching reunion. Way too many kids died there for us to bicker over fucking nonsense now." Something strange crossed her face then-- a crack in her mask, maybe? It disappeared far quicker than Clara could possibly analyze it, though, and that was the end of it. Shortly afterwards, Thea also emerged from the bathroom.

"Shit, dude, coming here was the best decision of my entire fucking life! Just, two words. Hot fucking water."

"Those are three words, Thea," Ivy laughed.

"Get off my case, I'm no fucking math major. But seriously, Ivy," Thea fluttered her eyelashes, "how can I ever repay you?" (Which, yeah, not totally classy, but those who didn't like it could piss off. You didn't get out of the flirty phase without some effort, you know? And Thea very much did want to proceed further, now that she didn't feel like a disgusting fucking pig. Thank you, hygiene, the mother of opportunities! Let the operation 'Forget Clara' commence, she thought, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Like, right fucking now. Both of them would benefit from that, right? Thea would leave inceldom behind, and Clara... well, Clara would no longer be annoyed by her pitiful fucking attempts. A win-win situation, clearly! ...why was she feeling so damn guilty, then? Nope, nope, nope, not examining that.)

"Hmm... I'm sure I will think of something," Ivy grinned. "First, though, I think we should have some fun together. I didn't open the bottle of wine just to turn Clara here into an alcoholic, okay? We should all drink, to our fucking health! The cultists can suck it-- we survived, ladies. Let's enjoy it."

***

Not gonna lie, the alcoholic haze consuming the edges of her vision was damn fucking nice. Super nice, actually. Like, all those people who had succumbed to an unironic addiction? She had to commend them for making a great, sensible choice! Not only had they chosen the one (1) socially acceptable poison, but it could also make them feel this good. Just, 10/10, man.

Thea was lounging on the couch, her position maybe a liiittle too relaxed for someone who was only wearing a towel, and nursing a half-empty glass. She was just in the middle of unraveling the mysteries of the universe (ie., wondering whether molerats had actual moles) when Ivy jumped to her feet.

"Ooh, I know how to spice this up!" she announced, wearing the widest of grins. "Let's play spin the bottle. That always makes things like 100% more fun. Who wants to go first? No, just kidding, not giving you the choice here. Obviously, I will do that-- as a host, I must. It's a matter of principle. A sacred fucking rule." Giggling to herself, Ivy spun the bottle... and, surprise, surprise, it did end up pointing at Thea! Quite unmistakably so, too. "Well," the woman licked her lips, "I guess I must kiss you now. The god has spoken."
 
Clara thought the glass of wine might help. (No, it didn't.) Then she thought the warm shower might help. (Also no.) And so the obvious conclusion was to drink until it did help. Sitting quietly in her designated corner of the room while Thea and Ivy carried the conversation (if you could even call their sickening flirtations 'conversations') at least came with the benefit that she was able to spend more time sipping on her wine, downing drink after drink until she lost track how many she'd had. But no need to worry about her, right? She's the 'boring one', the least likely to drink herself to death. Still. It was like they were living in a little fantasy bubble that she didn't exist in and she couldn't decide whether she was content existing outside of it or if she was hurt because she was so blatantly excluded from it. All she had for company was the wine and the rosy warmth that'd brushed over her cheeks to the tips of her ears like wildfire. Truth be told? She was miserable. A knife rammed into her heart every time they laughed together. Thea had barely looked her way since they left the hospital. Hadn't even suggested that they talk or smooth things out after the nightmare they'd just endured. She just... smiled. Smiled like nothing had happened between them at all and flirted happily with the suspicious stranger they just met. As if Clara and whatever remained of their friendship just... didn't matter anymore.

As the night stretched on, however, another thought began to reign over Clara's distaste for the so-called 'chemistry' Thea and Ivy shared. 'I want to go to bed already.' If Ivy was intent on leaving her out on the couch, why not make her suggestion about the bedroom already so that they could sort the sleeping arrangements out and finally close the terrible, endless chapter that was this day? (And if Thea agreed to sleep in here with her, and only if-- then maybe they could finally talk one on one?) That wasn't to be, however, when Ivy suggested spin the bottle of all things. Oh joy.

And of course Ivy spun first. And of course it landed on Thea. And before long Ivy was crawling over her, her hand edging dangerously close to Thea's hip and... Clara laughed. Although the laugh sounded more like a razor's edge than a pretty little bell. Ivy paused and pulled away just before her lips could touch Thea's, as if finally recognizing the fact that she existed in their general vicinity. Ah. So she hadn't become invisible after all.

“Uh… something funny?” Ivy's tone sounded... well. Did Clara care? No! She didn't care nearly enough about the other woman's tangible disappointment to place it on a helpful little scale of one to ten. So she didn't. All of her laughter dissipated at once and her expression flattened back into the usual no-nonsense neutrality. As if to say that whatever she'd found 'funny' wasn't actually very funny at all. That was because it wasn't. Nothing about being ignored and essentially cut open from the inside out was funny.

“Oh. Thea magic. I get it now. Looks like she gets to kiss everyone tonight, hm?” Clara mused cynically, sighing as she downed the rest of her glass. She twirled the stem between her fingers with a sort of elegance and pretended to be preoccupied with the way the low lights above flashed over the glass. This game was stupid. Everything about this was stupidly juvenile and Ivy clearly rigged it to force her to watch. (And whether intentionally or not, specifically triggered all of the shit she dealt with in that nightmare before.) “Me, Ivy, and now… whoever the hell you’re supposed to be?" She tipped the empty glass languidly towards the platinum blonde and then plunked it down on the table.

Clara rose up to her feet, swaying as she tried to find her balance. Despite the alcohol's firm hold on her, the death glare on her face was strikingly deadly even for her usual standards. A small, anxious voice in the back of her mind begged her to be quiet and sit back down. This anxiety was often thunderous in volume and took complete control over her. Tonight the burn of every drink she'd downed had scorched it down to a weak little whimper. It had no power over her. As much as she might regret whatever she said in the morning... in this moment? Damn. It was freeing.

“Don't mind me. But you know you don’t have to resort to these childish gimmicks to get what you want.” Clara said coldly, gesturing between the two of them and then towards the bottle on the floor. Speaking of bottles, she made the perfectly sage decision to reach for the new bottle they’d recently popped open. It was comfortingly heavy... if only because she knew she needed so much more if she was ever going to numb herself to this mess. “Your chemistry is off the charts. Is that what you wanted to hear from me earlier? Well, there it is. Guess I don’t need to read any of your pretentious self-help books after all. You two have taught me so much already.” She batted her own eyes prettily, mocking the sickly sweet way they’d been mooning over each other. “I’ve been totally enlightened on the social experience watching the two of you flirt all fucking night.”

Clara wanted to break something, if only just for the catharsis. (No matter what she told herself, she couldn’t will it away. This jealousy that twisted her up inside. This rage. She didn’t want to hold onto it anymore, didn’t want it to transform her into someone unrecognizable. She just wanted it to leave her be so she could let it go. But it was impossible when the source of her suffering was shoved in her face like this. She needed time to come to terms with all of these changes. Just like she’d needed time to sort out her feelings. But apparently she was never allowed the luxury of time in these situations!) She settled for balling a fist, cutting half-moons into her palms with her fingernails. She wasn’t so far gone that she was going to get violent. She swore she’d never be like papa— and even now, she determinedly stuck by that promise even as the rest of the world crumbled around her. God. Ivy probably had a helpful statistic for the children of raging alcoholics too and… to be quite honest? She didn’t want to hear it.

“I'm not so socially inept that I can't tell when I’m not wanted. I'll go take a walk outside.” Clara knew on some level that she needed to stop, but she had more to say and it was overflowing. She’d been holding onto so much. She needed to let go of some of it or this pent-up hurt was going to completely obliterate her. “Excuse me if I don’t want to stick around and watch." Her glare became especially dark when she cut over to Ivy again. If she was sinking to this level, she was determined to drag this knockoff Ivy bitch down with her. Because what she'd said earlier shouldn't go unchecked. Thea at least had the right to know what she was getting into with this stranger. "Thanks so much for the offer but I’d rather gouge my eyes out, sweetheart.”

Clara took a drink right from the bottle and coughed out another short-lived laugh.

“If you find I'm not back in two hours just assume I got offed. Not that I expect either of you to notice. In fact, you might as well throw a 'hype' party instead of a funeral because you'll get to share a mock-up domestic life in your shack without the perpetual third wheel sleeping on your couch.” Clara rolled her eyes and made way for the front door, opened it and leaned momentarily in the doorway to finish stating her piece. “After all, my probability of getting murdered was… what did you say it was? 60%? That wasn’t creepy at all, by the way. You should probably re-evaluate your self-help books if you don’t want people to suspect you of poisoning their food.” Or using dog meat. Urgh.

And with that? Clara made her exit and slammed the door shut. Okay. Wow. That was... a lot. Unable to go back in after that display, she slowly began walking down the path in front of the house, swinging the wine bottle low to the ground by the neck. Although night air was cold, it felt refreshing against her skin when her face was so warm. The world itself was a hazy, pulsing cloud. She couldn't decide if she'd had too much to drink or if she hadn't had enough... because as much of a weight it'd lifted to get that off her chest, she was still hurting. (If it still hurt, perhaps that meant she hadn't had enough.) She sighed shakily and took another swig from the bottle.
 
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So, like, was there a feeling better than waiting for that First KissTM? ‘Cause Thea sure as hell couldn’t think of it! Even with all the wine in her bloodstream, Ivy’s closeness was much, much, much more intoxicating-- when it came to the intensity, you might as well compare a needle with a fucking chainsaw. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. It’s fucking happening! I repeat, this is not a goddamn drill! (What if her breath smelled bad? What if she had somehow forgotten how to kiss? What if the demon chose to use this opportunity to crawl outside of her head and murder them all? You know, due to all that ~tension~ being released at once and shit. Couldn’t it destroy the fuck out of the metaphorical lock? What if her getting some action had been part of the cultists’ nefarious plan all along, and the planet’s survival hinged on her inceldom? The what ifs were fucking endless, but somehow, none of them came even close to predicting the real catastrophe.)

“Oh?” Thea’s eyes darted towards Clara, who was somehow still there. Duh. Her friend may have picked up a couple of new tricks in those past two days, but as far as she knew, teleportation wasn’t one of them. A damn fucking shame, too, because the ability to get the hell out of anywhere in the blink of an eye would have been a total game changer! …and maybe, as she looked at Clara now, she kind of wanted to disappear, too. Both away from this place, and from herself as well. (Actually, for greater accuracy, swap the ‘kind of’ for ‘one hundred percent sure.’ Clara wasn’t saying anything yet, but given the murderous glare that she could feel burning through her fucking skull? A shitstorm was brewing, Thea could tell, and she did not want to get caught up in it. Was there, like, a bridge she could dramatically fling herself off? Or maybe a serial killer whom she could beg for the next spot on his exclusive fucking list? ‘Cause pretty much everything seemed more appealing than Clara in her Hulk smash mode! As always, though, reality fucking refused to bend to her whims, and Thea was only left with the consequences of her own actions.) “Everyone?” she repeated, uncomprehending. “I didn’t kiss everyone. There was this hot as fuck cashier back at the gas station, and, um, I didn’t get to kiss her.” Wow, what an awesome argument! Then again, why was she trying to defend herself at all? The ‘not gfs’ status still very much applied for the two of them, and as such, Clara shouldn’t fucking care about the whereabouts of her lips at all. That was how this shit worked. The one (1) exception to this rule was the demon literally stealing them and hiding them in some other dimension, in which case she admittedly would appreciate some nosiness!

“Also, like, everyone is a useless-ass fucking quantifier,” her mouth continued to run, despite all of her conclusions. “I literally can’t kiss everyone at any given point because new people keep being born. Checkmate, Clara!” It didn’t fucking feel like a checkmate situation at all, though-- more than that, Thea felt as if she had just sacrificed her queen to protect a measly pawn.

“Childish gimmicks?” Ivy inserted herself into the conversation with all the grace of a bulldozer. (Weirdly enough, Thea found herself thankful for that. Yes, take one for the team, Ivy! …it hadn’t been like that before, she was painfully aware. Just yesterday, the brunette would have been fucking overjoyed to hear whatever it was that Clara had to say, but… well, yesterday was yesterday. Blah blah blah, philosophical musings about the passage of time, blah blah blah, shit always being ephemeral. Still, it kind of sucked, didn’t it? That two people’s paths could fucking diverge so drastically, without any tangible reason. That the giddy feeling in her stomach could turn into bile, in a time shorter than it would have taken her to prepare some fucking popcorn.)

“Please, Clara, we were just having fun!” the blonde explained. “It’s not my fault that Lady Luck doesn’t seem to favor you. Sit and calm down, alright? You’ll get to do your thing once it’s your turn. If you’re this jealous, I can even kiss you right now. Or,” her eyes sparkled, “is it Thea you’d like to kiss? Was it that fucking life-changing when she did it to you? I have to say, you are doing a fine enough job advertising her. What do you say, Thea?” Somehow, Ivy ended up practically sitting in her lap, her hot, wet lips pressed against her ear. “Are you that fucking good? Will you show me?” Which, once again, Thea’s brain was officially out of fucking business! Let me tell you, all of her blood totally rushed elsewhere, and-- “If you find I’m not back in two hours just assume I got offed. Not that I expect either of you to notice.” That sounded suspiciously like Clara’s voice. Shit, it was Clara’s fucking voice, and with it, she was spouting total bullshit!

“What?” Thea pushed Ivy away, feeling sober all of a sudden. “Clara, you know that that isn’t fucking true. And like, what percentages are that? Seems obviously fake to me-- clickbait level of wrong. People’s chances of being murdered can’t fucking be 60%, otherwise pretty much everyone would have been…” It appeared that Clara wasn’t too interested in her brilliant analysis, though, because she decided to hightail it out of there instead. Great, awesome. Why not? This was exactly how she was hoping for this evening to unfold, as a form of super spicy foreplay!

“Leave her alone,” Ivy grinned. “The girl just needs to cool the fuck down. Now, where were we?”

Unfortunately for the blonde, though, her partner had already switched to a very different wavelength-- a wavelength whose code name could easily be ‘protect Clara at all costs.’ “No, I… I’m sorry. Not in the mood anymore. I just gotta…” Was there any point to explaining? Probably not, Thea decided. Feeling feverish, she jumped down from the couch, almost tripping over her own feet in the process, and then she was standing outside. Kind of felt like some teleportation shit at work? That, or she was too drunk for this nonsense. (The night air gave her goosebumps, and she pulled the towel closer to her bare form in a pathetic attempt to get more warmth out of it. Spoiler attempt: it didn’t fucking work.)

“Oi, Clara, what the fuck? You got brain worms?” she shouted, teetering somewhere between anger and confusion. (Guilt was in the mix, too, but nope, not even fucking going there.) “We weren’t… alright, we were flirting, but that’s none of your business. You told me you weren’t interested. So like, what do I need to do to make you happy? Stay alone so that you can get your kicks out of having your faithful puppy not-girlfriend follow you around forever? Friends want their friends to score, Clara. It’s a fucking friendship thing!”
 
"Is that really how you see me, Thea? Like some... heartless bitch who's been treating you like a puppy because I didn't give you the same instant gratification that she does?" Clara laughed breathily, albeit this time it was a weak mockery of whatever razor sharpness she had found before. This one was sound was more the equivalent of a broken rabbit that'd been caught in a trap. Technically, Thea had only kissed her. The implication was there, sure. But she had never once confessed anything herself! They hadn't talked about any of this remotely enough to be drawing those kinds of conclusions yet. "You're saying all of this as if I've been stringing you along for months when, need I remind you again, it's only been two days. So no, it has not been forever. Not even by a landslide! But it's not just that. Friends... friends actually give a shit about each other when everything goes to shit. After what happened... what happened..."

Clara was stumbling, her eyes were burning just as hot as her cheeks were. She didn't need to explain 'what happened', did she? Unless Thea had already conveniently forgotten, that was. Based on the way she'd been treating her, it really was a viable option in the grand scheme of things. "You've been smiling and laughing like nothing happened. Like now that we've clashed, I'm some kind of problem that will go away if you ignore it hard enough." Her lip trembled and she bit it. Hard. When she tasted blood, she released it again and steeled herself. "Like you don't care. Maybe you never did."

"I'm glad you moved on so fast, actually. It tells me whatever was happening with us... it wasn't real." Clara wrapped her arms around herself. There it was. Except this time, being proven right was horrible in every sense of the word. That was what bothered her, wasn't it? The fact that Thea could move on within the blink of an eye while she agonized over it. It fit the usual pattern so well that it drove the knife in even deeper. "I didn't explicitly say I felt nothing back there, you know. Yes, I said we weren't on a movie trajectory... but only because I felt like we were moving too fast. And I was... I think I was starting to... I just needed time to get on the same page?"

There it was again. That fact Clara had been trying to press down for so long had finally spilled out of her, prompted by alcohol and raging emotions. She'd been feeling something. But that something had effectively been squashed like a bug. Her heart pounded wildly and she guzzled down another long sip from the bottle. At this rate she needed it to hit her. To numb her. And fast.

"And you know? Maybe I would've let you know where I was at if we had more time. But everything's been changing all at once. And I've been terrified and this whole experience has been a clusterfuck if you haven't noticed. Maybe if we'd made it to day three, things would've been different. Now we'll never know, will we?" Clara's ears burned bright red. She felt naked revealing all of this. Although she was the one who was actually dressed between them. Thea had lounged in her towel... perhaps not even deeming it necessary to put them back on when she and 'Ivy' were hitting it off so quickly. Stupid. You knew it was stupid and you fell like a fool anyway. "I do know something, though."

"I know whatever I felt for you was real. That's why I'm feeling this goddamn miserable. So excuse me if I can't find it in my heart to be fucking happy for you yet." Clara snapped, her heart pounding through the sea of turbulent emotions that floundered within. For the first time, something in her wanted to hurt her back. "We don't have to play by the rules of the friendship book, because you've made it clear to me that we're not anything anymore. Go score if that's what you want. I did you a solid by leaving to let you do just that, didn't I? So do me a solid and leave me alone." She took another long drink. Not numb yet. Damn. She hiccuped and managed another quiet little laugh. "Fair warning, though. She acts like a condescending bitch whenever you turn your back."
 
Well, did she? Did she? ‘Heartless bitch’ wasn’t a phrase she’d ever associate with Clara out of all people, but… well, her words did point to that accusation. Perhaps rightly so, too. Like, who the hell even did that? Lover shit, but without actually bothering to be her fucking lover. Don’t get her wrong, Thea could deal with some jealousy-- in tiny doses, it could even be sorta cute. You know, in that ‘I know that you’re hot and that everyone fucking knows it’ way? Yeah, except that in order to qualify for that sort of cuteness, you actually had to have those gf credentials! Without them, Clara only came off as… ugh, fuck her if she could even describe it. As a total weirdo. The whole affair was fucking bizarre-- kind of like going to your favorite restaurant to order a steak, only to somehow get recruited into one of those ‘meat is murder’ cults along the way and roped into pouring fake blood all over its façade. “I have no idea,” Thea admitted, feeling strangely disconnected from it all. (Not even the night air prickling at her skin could make this seem more real than it currently felt, for reasons she couldn’t very well describe. Like a fucking surrealist painting, she thought. And about as pointless.) “But like, have you ever given me the grounds to suspect otherwise? ‘Cause I don’t know what I was supposed to take from that wishy washy bullshit. If you meant to say something else, you should have fucking tried harder.” Ooo, sick burn! And, by that, Thea obviously meant all those bridges that had just gone up in fucking flames. Oh well. That sort of thing just tended to happen when you walked around with a canister of gasoline, didn’t it? A single spark was all it took.

(‘It’s quite alright, crow,’ the demon said, putting a metaphorical hand on her shoulder. Don’t fucking ask how she knew that-- you just sensed that kind of thing, in the same way that you could sense it when someone was looking at you from across a crowded room. ‘This was always meant to happen. I mean, didn’t you anticipate it? If not, I recommend checking out your track record. When it comes to burying relationships, you are quite the gravedigger. No need to worry, though! No matter what happens, you will always have me.’ …ugh. Was it too bad that she did derive some solace from that? Call the fucking Guinness Records agency, because the world record for being utterly pathetic was broken today!)

“What?” Thea blinked a few times, genuinely confused. What the fuck was this abo-- ah. Ah. That was what that was about, then. Well, okay, why not! Since they were apparently kicking their skeletons out of their closets, they might as well go all the way in and set them on fire. “You fucking want to die on that hill? Do I have to remind you that I found you in bed with her, or is that conveniently missing from that fancy-ass narrative of yours?” She did want to ignore that, yeah, but only because it didn’t count! It wasn’t cheating if a) she wasn’t your gf in the first place, b) you happened to be stuck in a demonic nightmare where reality was about as solid as honey. What happened there stayed there, the brunette thought. Still, If Clara insisted on dwelling on that… well, who was she to try and keep things classy? At the end of the day, Thea Holloway was nothing if not petty. “You started it. You started it, and now you're trying to deflect. Well, too bad for you, 'cause you can't fucking shove shit down my throat and claim it's a pancake!” And hey, if this was a regular argument, Thea would have counted it as another glorious victory. It would have gone right into her 'moments I pwned a bitch' memory folder-- you know, the one she liked to browse through whenever her coping mechanisms weren't working as well as she would have liked them to. Her emotional support bitchiness, you could say. The problem with that, though? It wasn't a regular argument. It wasn't a regular argument at all, and she had fucked up.

"Uh, what?" Clara... felt something for me? To say that the confession hit her like a ton of bricks would have been a fucking understatement. A million questions emerged in her mind all at once, such as 'why didn't she tell me,' 'how come I couldn't tell' and 'what's the fastest way to wipe one's fucking memory?' The answers didn't come, though. (It was hard to tell whether it was because there weren't really any, or if she couldn't hear over the realization of just how much she fucked up. I... damn. Damn, damn, damn!) "Clara," Thea began, "let me explain. I didn't--" Didn't what? Didn't know? Didn't care? Couldn't act like a normal human being, because that just wasn't who she fucking was? For once, the well of her excuses dried up, and... well, there wasn't anything else. Just dull, stunned silence. ('Aww, no need to blame yourself,' the demon chuckled. 'Don't you know that crows are the symbols of bad luck? This was always going to end in tragedy.')

And there it was! The final nail in the coffin. Before Thea could even think of picking up the shards and gluing them back together, Clara fucking melted them-- she did it in Mordor's Mount Doom, too, for good fucking measure. What else could you say about this nuclear option? There wasn't anything left to be added. So that's how it is, Thea thought, oddly lightheaded. Not friends anymore. Not anything anymore, and the 'leave me alone' card. In hindsight, that much was probably fair. Like, Clara wasn't contractually obliged to want to spend time with her, and bitches only won bitchy prizes. Wasn't that common fucking sense? ...still, with fresh tears stinging in her eyes, that was sorta difficult to acknowledge. Hard to swallow, too. "Fine," she said, with some difficulties. Ugh, if only her voice wasn't breaking in the most pathetic way! "As you wish. Bye."

So, one of the good things about Thea Holloway? She didn't make promises that she didn't intend to keep-- to the extent that, when Clara woke up in the morning, her bed was empty. The entire shack was, aside from her and Ivy.
 
Clara was violently ill the next morning. Of course she was. She had way too much to drink the night before. Not that Thea ever looked away from Ivy long enough to suggest that she stop. Why would she care enough to make sure that she was okay when she was too busy trying to score? Ugh. And when she finally did pay attention to her? She had the nerve to imply she wasn't being a 'good enough friend'-- without reflecting near enough to see that she had been neglecting her all night in favor of someone they'd just met. And something about that accusation broke her like a dam, causing everything else to rush out beyond her control. (Because it was nothing new. She was used to that kind of inattention. Ever since she was a toddler, putting her own clothes on backwards and struggling to pour cereal for herself those nights that papa had been too busy snoring on the couch to feed her. When Ivy used to abandon her at parties whenever she felt too sick to 'play'. And sure, Thea had no obligation to look after her that way. They weren't an item. Clara didn't hold her to that standard, either. But it could've been nice, from a friend. For a moment, she'd almost let herself believe Thea was going to break that pattern the same way Raoul did with the gentle way she'd treated her... up to this point. Well, whatever. She sternly set the boundary that she didn't want to be kissed yet, so obviously that had given Thea the incentive to replace her instantly afterwards like a broken toy. Why deal with the difficult conversations if she could make out with a conveniently placed stranger instead? That made total sense.) Everything had come out in an outpouring that was still fuzzy around the edges of her memory. She acknowledged that she'd said things she regretted herself. Some terrible things she intended to take back. She'd obviously been drunk. While that doesn't absolve her of any guilt, it must've been clear that she just needed a little space. A little time to think for once. There was always room to iron all those creases in her judgement out with a clearer, calmer frame of mind. They both needed that, didn't they? They did have something. Maybe they could figure out what that something was... as well as what went wrong if they actually talked without the nightmares, the drugs and the alcohol swirling in their systems.

Of course, it took two to carry a conversation. And Thea? Apparently Thea was long gone.

‘Crow was an early bird and flew away!’ The demon taunted, clearly eager for her to wake up and discover the news. He laughed. ‘She left you all alone, just like I said she would.’

Clara's head pounded and nothing felt real anymore. It was the hangover, yeah, as well as her gut-reaction to the news. She grabbed her getaway bag and a coat, storming out into the woods behind the house. Walking fast, because she didn't want to be alone with Ivy and her condescending tone and murderous tendencies. She wasn't necessarily searching for Thea at this point, because she knew deep down that she must've been long gone by now. (Although she did find herself following the traces of footprints in the mud, indicative of the misty morning rain. The grim weather reflected the mood perfectly, really, and gave the forest a distinctive fragrance that she might have enjoyed had her mind not been elsewhere.) She needed the fresh air to breathe, yes, but also needed to run herself as a matter of survival now. Because there was no way in hell she was going to stick around Ivy all by herself. Too dangerous.

...Why'd she do it? Did she even have to ask why, though? Thea impulsively did whatever benefitted Thea most in the moment, without thinking at all about how her actions affected those around her. She took off because she couldn't deal with anything that was hard or messy. Was that it? All it took was one argument to make her run off like a coward? Fine! Then let her run. Clara didn't want to commit to someone who made her feel insignificant enough to drop without the courtesy of a proper conversation, anyway. The kind of person who severed ties without even giving her one measly little chance to make amends. (She felt tremendously guilty for the way she'd behaved the night before. But how could she even apologize if she wasn't given the opportunity to do so? When she was finally sober enough to articulate herself properly, after a much needed night's rest?) Thea's actions spoke louder than words ever could. She might as well said 'You hurt my feelings and now you're dead to me! I don't give a fuck what happens to you anymore.' Which, wow. What a ruthless, disaffected badass she was for that. So cool. Clara was such a boring nerd in comparison, really, for caring that they stayed together to survive the mess they were in. But even when she'd felt hurt and wanted to disappear yesterday, it never once occurred to her to run off into the night and completely abandon Thea with Ivy. Ivy, who she still didn't trust for all the obvious reasons.

Careless. It was careless. And bafflingly cruel, too. It wasn't like they weren't on the run from a murderous cult or anything. Clara just severed all her ties to her normal life as she knew it because she knew how important it was that they stay together to keep each other safe. That was the point of traveling together to begin with. If Thea wanted to throw her the middle finger in retaliation to whatever mean thing she'd said when she spilled her guts? Then, yeah. This disappearing act did the trick. But it was so selfish and heartless on a level she didn't know how to cope with.

'Isn't it sad, raven? Empty your heart out, show off all the messy bits and suddenly you're not worth anything anymore.' The demon supplied. 'She's only looking out for herself. Which is exactly what you should be doing, too.'

Clara couldn’t depend on anyone in her life until Raoul stepped up. But right now, she couldn't rely on him without putting him in serious danger. What the hell was she supposed to do now, without her there at her side? 'You're such an idiot.' She rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. 'Get a grip.'

Who was she kidding, anyway? No one was ever going to be that patient with her heart. No one was going to love her beyond the surface level if they couldn't notice the way she showed her care when she patched injuries with gentle hands or suggested they take a coat with them on a chilly day. What about those countless times she'd caught her in her arms above those worms, when she'd risked her life? Or when she'd decided she would give Thea a chance to explain herself, even when the news broadcast claimed she was a murderer? '...I gave you a chance. Why couldn't you do the same for me?'

Thea decided exactly what Clara deserved for getting drunk and saying things in the heat of the moment when she made the decision to leave. 'You're a mess she doesn't want to deal with. A burden. You're cold and you deserve to die alone.' The cultists would show up with their guns, Thea would no longer be there to talk her down from the inevitable panic attack... and where would she be? Dead. 'Thanks for the reminder, Thea. I really needed that.'

Was that an exaggeration? Maybe it was on some level. Clara's worried, anxious energies were unproductive at this rate... so they naturally fueled the blazing fire in her instead. Sure, it was getting out of control. But it wasn't like Thea was around anymore to defend or redeem herself from these conclusions. She'd seen to that by pulling this disappearing act. So could anyone really blame Clara for exploring every possible avenue, for feeling and reacting to the sting of this horrible slap to her face? Because she didn't get to know the reasons why. She didn't get to assess the damage she'd done, or consider what she could do to amend it. She only had her own guilt to stew in and her own unresolved feelings of affection. And they would never be resolved... because Thea had stolen that from her. (And by doing that... what had she done aside from prove her right again? Because there was not a more articulate way she could have said that Clara meant nothing to her than by leaving her behind.) Ugh. And as much as she hated to admit it? The demon was proven right, too. She deserved this for fucking up so fantastically, didn't she? She deserved to be alone.
 
So, to be clear? Traveling on foot was fucking bullshit. Not only did you have to move your legs and stuff, but like, the terrain in this particular forest was one giant glorified death trap. Who knew that rain had the annoying tendency to generate mud? Thea Holloway sure as hell did, but that still didn’t stop her from hating every single second of getting her shoes way dirtier than they ever should be. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit!

Just to save you some breath-- no, she hadn’t exactly thought this through. She also didn’t want to. Like, what was there to fucking philosophize about? Clara had told her, in no uncertain terms, what it was that she wanted from her. (‘Leave me alone,’ she’d said. Thea could still hear it, over and over, with that particular Clara-style poison dropping from her words. Never had she thought that she’d be on the receiving end of that, but haha, here they fucking were! Or weren’t, technically speaking. Not since she had put a few kilometers between her and her former friend. And, like, the more the distance between them grew, the less she would care, right? ‘Distance makes the heart fonder’ was country song propaganda, invented so that douchebag men could have a lover in every fucking state. Just, nope, not how the brain worked! Details faded in time, and so did feelings. Soon enough, all of those annoying thoughts would get shoved into the mental equivalent of a garbage heap, and--)

‘Aww, thinking that you can outrun your own thoughts? I knew from the very beginning that you weren’t the sharpest crayon in the box, crow, but this is stupid even for you, crow.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Why, though? Not like you have anyone else to talk to.’

‘Well, maybe I don’t fucking want to talk.’

Yeah, because talking had only ever gotten her in fucking trouble. Hadn’t it all begun with her running her big, fat mouth? With her asking Clara what they were exactly, and receiving an answer she hadn’t wanted to hear? …no, actually. If you wanted to put your fucking Sherlock Holmes hat on, then you’d find out it was all Clara’s fucking fault! Fuck you, Clara, Thea thought. Ooo, look at me, I’m Clara and I say the exact fucking opposite of what I actually want. At restaurants, I order a pizza and then get mad at the waitress for not bringing me a fucking burger. When I say black, I obviously mean white. How come you can’t read my mind? You selfish, stupid, egocentric asshole. (Yeah, yeah, that might not have been entirely accurate, but like, artistic license and shit. Piss off. Rarely did it happen that Thea Holloway was willing to explain how her thought processes worked, but today? Today, that little willingness had effectively been cut in fucking half.)

‘You seem bothered, crow.’

‘I’m fucking not.’

Because, hahaha, why should she be? Because the one (1) woman with whom she had had something resembling a genuine emotional connection never wanted to see her again? Because her entire life had been in shambles, since the moment her parents had decided she was too fucking inconvenient to deal with? For her, it was all about convenience, too. About the easy fucking way. First, she just wants to be friends, and then she edits the definition of that in her mind so that it’s the equivalent of dating. What’s next, her being pissed off because I didn’t ask for her fucking hand in marriage yet? (…it did hurt, under all those layers of anger. Pretty much everything about it. Still, the demon had been right, hadn’t he? She was always going to fuck up, because she was Thea and that was what she did. Peace had never fucking been an option. Like, the brunette was sure she could even send Mother Theresa fly into a murderous rage, so what chances had the embryo of their relationship had? All the chances of a fucking rose blooming in the middle of a desert! ‘You just weren’t made for this, crow. For sharing yourself with other people. Just give it a break, will you? You will see for yourself that you will feel much, much better. It can be… hmm, liberating… to accept the truth, even if you don’t like it.’ Blah blah blah, more fucking nonsense. Then again, even a stopped clock was right twice a day, wasn’t it? And, at this point, it was beyond obvious that Thea simply… didn’t work well with other people, in the same way you couldn’t shove AA batteries into an electrical socket and expect them not to fry you alive. Just, this complete and utter incompatibility. Why the fuck was she still trying to overcome it? To get some material for her Nightly FantasiesTM? ‘Cause you could obtain those in a way that didn’t rend your heart in half! Nope. Don’t think about her. Just walk forward, and in time, you’ll find something more interesting to do. Yep, that was the full extent of her glorious plan! So fucking what? Fate unraveled those within seconds anyway, so like, wasting your time on formulating one was the equivalent of burning money for fun. Well… not fun, actually, because thinking about the future was the opposite of that. Sooo, burning money for boredom?)

It was hard to tell for how long she wandered, mostly because her cellphone was in the bag that she had forgotten at Ivy’s (RIP), but when what seemed to be a hotel appeared within the walking distance? Thea was thanking all the known and unknown gods for finally showing her some goddamn mercy. “Hey,” she smiled at the receptionist, “you got any vacancies?”

***

Clara, on the other hand, probably wasn’t going to be thanking any deities any time soon. Being hopelessly lost in the forest was one thing, though being lost there while your pursuer wasn’t? Yeah, that fucking sucked.

“Clara!” Ivy emerged from behind one of the trees, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. For all the casualness in her tone, you would have guessed she was talking to a colleague she had randomly met in the local supermarket-- not, you know, to someone who was very obviously trying to get the hell away from her. “What’s the rush? First Thea, then you… Honestly, I’m kind of offended. I fucking play the knight in the shining armor for you, and this is what I get? Would you have been happier if I just let you guys die?”

A knife materialized in her hands and she twirled it between her fingers, just like other, more well-adjusted people might fidget with a pencil. “’Cause I can still make that happen."
 
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"Of course, dearie." The concerned but warm smile that wrinkled the receptionist's face gave off the indication that she was a kindly, motherly lady. At least at a glance. "Goodness, you're all wet! What a dreary day it is today, I'll tell you..." She clicked her tongue distractedly, as if to sigh 'ugh technology' as she plunked at the computer in front of her. Then her eyes lit up. "Ah ha! There you are." She hummed a little tune as she fished underneath the desk for a key card. When she found what she was looking for, she slid it across the desk to Thea. "Room number 25. That'll be on the second floor to your right. Hurry along and warm yourself up, dearie. I feel cold just looking at you!"

The woman waved and giggled sweetly to herself as Thea went on her way. What she couldn't see, of course, that at the receptionist's feet behind the desk... was the bloodied dead body of whoever was the real receptionist at this hotel in the middle of nowhere.

If the number 25 didn't ring any bells of familiarity in Thea's mind, the long, dim-lit hallways might have begun to clue her into the fact that something was seriously off. Sure, it was true that most hotels generally looked the same. Long, carpeted hallways lined with doors bearing numbered plates. Creaky elevators that played the cheesiest jazz ever. But this one mirrored the one in her and Clara's shared nightmare, right down to the red wallpaper and distinctive black and white pattern on the carpet. (Even the smell was the same... as were some of the suspicious noises she heard behind closed doors.) Ivy's name, this hotel, even down to the room number... what strange, strange coincidences those were, right?

If Thea was concerned that she'd be ambushed the second she opened the door, she really didn't have to be. Room 25 was normal enough on the inside! Neither Clara or the other Ivy were inside, the way they had been in the nightmare. Maybe the interior of the hotel was just the manifestation of some hallucinogenic form of paranoia, then? The queen sized bed was made to perfection. It was silent and neat-- looking very much untouched in the way a quality hotel room was supposed to be once the maids were through tending to it.

It was the moment Thea walked inside, just at enough of a distance away from her only exit out that the trap that was waiting for her sprung. One cultist emerged out of hiding in the closet and promptly positioned his burly body in front of it to block it off. Another two came out of the bathroom. And if that wasn't overkill enough? Two more of them appeared out of the woodworks, behind the thick curtains on the other side of the room in front of the only window. And with that, she was completely surrounded.

"Uh oh! What're you gonna do without your creepy little friend?" One of them barked out a condescending laugh, "Geez. This is almost going to be too easy now that you've gone and split up. Just like Master sa--"

"Don't be so arrogant, Stefan. That's what got us into this mess in the first place, if you don't recall?" Another cultist spoke, a woman who punctuated her statement with an eye roll. She might've seemed more sensible if she wasn't also a murderous cultist. "Come along now, Dorothea. This little game of yours... it's over now."

***

So apparently those footsteps that Clara had (definitely not) been following? It quickly dawned on her that they belonged to 'Ivy' instead of Thea when the woman appeared from behind a nearby tree. It was hard to tell which was sharper. The razored grin on her face or the knife in her hand. And coincidentally, the shock itself stabbed through her gut similarly to the way a knife would. It wasn't that Ivy turned out to be exactly the shady murderer she suspected she was. It was that she'd managed to trap her so quickly. 'Shoot.' To make matters worse, she'd just walked right into it. Suspicions and conclusions on various levels clicked into place like puzzle pieces, but she didn't give her much time to ponder just how right she'd been. Kind of hard to when there was a deadly weapon dangling in that woman's hands.

'You are a commendable little Nancy Drew, raven. Truly. Admittedly, we were concerned about you...' The demon cackled, perhaps with the most unhinged (annoying) laugh she'd ever heard in her life. Of course he had to gloat about it. 'And yet you were so determined to prove you had a heart that you forgot all about your mind! Divide and conquer, you see? You and crow almost made it too easy for us.'

Uninvited, the clickbait headlines that would announce Clara's death swam through her mind. It might take them forty years-- give or take-- to finally find her bones buried all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. 'Bones of missing psychopath discovered in the woods.' And maybe if the demon didn't get what he wanted, perhaps Thea would see it and learn what became of her after she'd abandoned her there. Would she feel any guilt? Would she care at all? No... no, probably not. She'd likely see their nightmarish time together as a weird, trippy blunder in her life she was more than happy to have behind her. Maybe she'd give the news a shrug at most. An 'aw, so sad too bad.' Then she could go back to whatever life she was living at that point, move on to the next convenient distraction. Most people would shrug her off as it was. Girls who grew up in households like hers got wrapped up in crime all the time, usually against their will... and the people at the top did nothing but at most shake their heads with pity, perhaps sigh over what a cruel world it was. On some level, this was honestly the end she'd expected for herself.

Of course, Clara didn't let papa shoot her in her sleep, the way he always promised he would. She'd hid his gun while he was asleep, one thing led to another and... Well. She was determined not to die then. It was terrible either way, but wasn't it especially terrible if she'd have escaped a murder cult only to be killed within the supposed 'safety' of her own home?

Was Clara going to let herself die now? The world hadn't killed her yet... and she'd be damned if some platinum blonde named 'Ivy' (but let's be honest, that name was most likely as fake as her hair) did her in now. She might've loved sleep and the comfort of her bed more than life itself-- but surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, depending on your perspective), she wasn't one of those types who was going to lie down and let the earth reclaim her just because she was heartbroken. Ever since enduring the catastrophe that was her Ivy, she was determined not to let anyone hold that kind of ownership over her own self-worth again. So even if Thea no longer cared about Clara's fate, whether she survived the cult's future murder attempts or not... she still did. And that counted for something. 'I might've said some terrible things last night. I might've messed up.' She thought, 'But you know what, asshole? I take it back. I don't deserve this. None of us did.'

Clara snapped her focus to the shadows all around her. When the knife went flying towards her out of Ivy's hand with striking accuracy, she cast a protective barrier around herself... causing it to bounce off uselessly. The demon's presence in her was stronger than ever. (Which, yes. It went without saying that that was concerning.) But it came with the added benefit that her abilities-- without his assistance or control-- were stronger now more than ever.

"Sure." Clara replied, calm enough to match the woman's casual tone... only hers was several degrees icier. She chose fight instead of flight, the way she certainly wouldn't have two days ago. She flexed her fingers and then curled them inward, drawing shadows all around herself like protective vipers. "I'd like to see you try, bitch."
 
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It had to be a coincidence, Thea was sure. Like, all the hotels across the country had basically been modeled after one giant proto-hotel, right? The mother of hotels, or something as creatively fucking bankrupt as that. More than likely, the stingy-ass fuckers just didn’t want to pay for competent architects-- capitalism demanded everything be done now and for a pitiful pocket money, so she really could envision them buying the universal blueprints at Amazon. A way more likely explanation than it being a part of some grand fucking conspiracy directed against her, wasn’t it? “Yeah, had a rough day or two,” she said, in what had to be the understatement of the century. “Now I just wanna lie down and die in peace.” And, admittedly? That wouldn’t have been the worst outcome ever. (No matter from which angle you looked at it, her life was officially in shambles. Having a hot partner in crime was the one thing that she had had going for her, but without that? Without that, there was just an endless laundry list of bullshit like ‘wanted for murder,’ ‘mentally unstable’ and ‘hunted by a crazy cult.’ Like, could the red shirt she was wearing be any fucking brighter? Losing Clara demoted her to the NPC status, so now she was destined to die alone and unloved.) I sure fucking hope the room service is decent, the brunette thought, ‘cause today, I want to drown in booze.

The red flags continued to pile up, to the point that even the average fucking corrida looked almost black-and-white next to it, but you know what Thea did? Why, she ignored it all! Willful ignorance happened to be her greatest, most developed skill-- hell, if the need arose, she could probably ignore the fuck out of an atomic explosion. A bunch of weird little coincidences could do absolutely nothing to shake her! (Clara had been the resident overthinker in their dynamic duo, not her. So, like, who the fuck was she to try and take over that role? Clara was gone, and nobody could ever replace her, and… and now Thea had to prove to the world that dumb bitches had rights, too. Actually using her brain would be betraying everything she had ever believed in! No multisyllabic words, no complex fucking sentences. None of that fancy-ass shit, thank you very much! As always, Thea Holloway would just allow the tides of fate to carry her wherever they wanted, and do the bare minimum not to fucking drown. So far, her survival rate had been 100%, so What Could Possibly Go WrongTM?)

Of course, she was going to find out. The painful way, too.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Thea flinched, simultaneously surprised and… well, not. (The universe was too enamored with its new chew toy to just let her go, so it did make sense on that level. Still, it was fucking bizarre, wasn’t it? The way they knew about every single step of hers, seemingly long before she bothered to take it. ‘Hmm, I wonder how that could be, crow,’ the demon mocked. ‘Almost as if they have an informant. A ridiculously charming insider. Who could the rat be, hmm?’)

“Don’t you guys ever get a vacation or something?” she blurted out, backing into the corner slowly. Ugh! There had to be something she could use as a weapon, anything… “Always hard fucking work at the Demon Industries, huh? You really should unionize. It’s all the rage these days, as is the Communist Party membership. And, like, have you heard about the basic tenets of communism? They discovered that religion is bullshit, actually, so you might want to re-think the decision to worship a malevolent supernatural entity. Just a suggestion.”

“See, Hannah?” the cultist, apparently Stefan, smirked. “Without her, the bitch is completely useless.” Big fucking oof! Did they have to reflect her inner fears so accurately? Thea had kind of gotten used to it happening in those dream-like worlds, but so far, reality had been kinder. “You heard the lady, Dorothea. Come with us and… well, I’m not going to say that nobody will be hurt, but it will be easier. More dignified, too.”

Yeah, as if there was any dignity left for Thea Holloway! Cornered like a wild animal, hoping to be saved by a friend she had abandoned, and without a plan beyond ‘let’s see if I can wear them down with my big, dumb mouth.’ Clara would have known what to do. Shit, she’d pull some Harry Potter nonsense out of her ass, and…

(A memory flashed through her mind, distant yet closer than her own heart. ‘Claiming your wings for yourself, crow?’ Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead, each as heavy as lead, and for a moment or two, Thea legit thought that she was going to fucking explode!)

…and then she did, with the shadows pouring straight out of her soul. Had they always been there, or had the demon implanted them? That didn’t fucking matter, Thea decided, as long as it helped her to kick those cultists’ asses. “Who’s creepy now, bitches?”

***

“Do you, though?” If Clara’s tenacity surprised Ivy, then she didn’t let any of it show on her face. Instead, she surveyed her in the same way a predator might observe its prey-- her grey eyes were analyzing every movement of hers, as if to uncover all of her weaknesses. “I mean, I’m not all that sure you could handle me if I were to go all out. I only had to pull at some loose threads, and that was all it took for you to unravel! How fucking pathetic is that? I’m honestly shocked that you and your dumb friend were able to survive for as long as you have had. Gotta be some cosmical fluke.”

Really, who was she? And where did she get the confidence from? Clara had dispatched tougher guys before, so one (1) chick with a knife couldn’t fucking touch her! …well, not under the normal circumstances. From behind the trees, more and more figures were emerging-- creepy, hooded figures, with shifting shadows instead of faces. (Quite literally, too. Nope, no way those fuckers were human! They didn’t even move like ones, instead choosing to float a few centimeters above the ground. Had their feet been chopped off, or...?) “Meet my friends,” Ivy offered her a bright, warm smile. “I was thinking it would be oh so rude if I didn’t introduce you, so here you go. Clara, these are the servants of my lord. Servants of the one who will inherit the earth, this is Clara. You know, the chick that you are supposed to bring back!”

Hey! Wasn’t she supposed to capture her?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ivy grinned, as if she was reading her mind. “I don’t actually need to get my fucking hands dirty.”
 
"Don't panic, you lily-livered idiots! Pull yourselves together!" The woman, Hannah, reprimanded her few fellow cultists who'd immediately panicked and cowered in fear upon seeing the outpouring of shadows up close. (Well, it seemed they had figured out what had become of the last fools who had tried to apprehend them. Kind of funny how people who were so far gone that they worshiped a sleazy demon were scared of a little dark magic, hm?) "We all knew this was a possibility going in. Don't tell me you'd rather face the wrath of our Master instead? You know what happens to cowards!"

"This is brother Stefan. We have a situation on the second floor. I repeat, we have a situation on the second floor." There was a crackle as Stefan spoke into a walkie-talkie he was carrying with him. "Send in reinforcements, immediately!" He pocketed it shortly afterwards. "Now, now." He spoke as if he was trying to calm her down from a paranormal tantrum. But then he revealed a dagger from his coat pocket. "We have the building completely surrounded, Dorothea. You really ought to save yourself the trouble. We need you alive... for now. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun with you first."

"Yeah! We could play a little game. What if we send your friend a few of your fingers and see how fast she comes to your rescue?" Another taunted, revealing a knife from his own coat. "Don't think we won't!"

"No, no. Ivy assured us she has that situation under control." What? Stefan's eyes flashed, as if he figured out an angle he could play to his advantage. The smirk he wore was sharper than the dagger in his hand. "You hear that, Dorothea? You left your little friend with our undercover operative. I'm willing to bet Clara's being delivered to our Master as we speak. What a shame. The two of you were so close as children, real birds of a feather... and you just left her there to die. What happened?"

"...Save the gossip, men." Hannah rolled her eyes, impatient to get this over with. Instead of a dagger, she revealed a syringe from her own coat. She approached Thea slowly, her eyes hungry. "We just need to sedate her."

***

Clara firmly stood her ground as Ivy prattled on with the kind of arrogance she expected from her at this point. She knew she couldn't waver now that she had chosen this stance. Under the woman's analyzing gaze, she steeled herself until nothing was left. There really was nothing left, was there? Except for life or death that was. Thea wasn't there anymore, Ivy had shown her allegiances, and she? She had nothing left to lose. There was no place for her to go back to, no one she could turn to from this point forward. What could this woman possibly threaten her with now that her friend had left? It was crystal clear. Either Clara escaped with her life and found her own way or she died here in the middle of the woods. She was quiet but did not intend to go quietly. Antagonizing her like a classic soap opera villain may have worked yesterday when she felt vulnerable and tired (because surprise, running from the 'cops', liberating a ghost, clobbering cultists, and then enduring a nightmare hospital all in one day tended to do that to a person!) but talk was just talk until she could make good on all of her promises with action. Did Ivy think she was so skilled with words that she was going to win with them alone? If so, she had another thing coming. Mostly because Clara had sent a shadow slithering discreetly on the ground out of her range of sight while she'd been busy doing so.

Yes, the presence of Ivy's 'friends' was concerning. (And concerning was the understatement of the century. What the hell were those things!?) But Clara was so close to landing a blow at this point that she held onto the shadow as tight as the grudge she'd formed against the woman standing across from her. Quickly, she lassoed the shadow around her ankle when it was close enough. Got her. Clara yanked hard, dragging Ivy down to the ground. Effectively wiping that annoying grin off her face and covering her head to toe in mud.

"Oh... you sure about that, Ivy? Because you look plenty dirty to me." Clara smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Maybe it was petty, but what was life without the sweetness of well-timed revenge? Did she think she was going to get away with being such a bitch to her without facing any repercussions whatsoever? "If you think we survived because of a cosmical fluke, you haven't been paying nearly enough attention." Unfortunately she didn't have much time to gloat as she turned her attention on the floating hoods. Bolstering herself with a deep and shaky breath, she gathered all of the shadows she could around her and shaped them into two giant swords. As the creatures began floating menacingly towards her, she slashed left and right to clear them out. They groaned like ghouls and disappeared in dark tendrils of smoke as the blades ran through them.

Clara gritted her teeth and turned the larger blades into several smaller blades, circling them around her to effectively cover herself from every angle. That couldn't be it. It had seemed way, way too easy. And she was right about that. Because the hooded monstrosities materialized again-- this time closer to her than before. Again, she slashed through them all and they vanished yet again... although it seemed that every time she cut through them, they rematerialized even closer to her. She recognized the pattern when it happened a third time as well. They were only going to get closer and closer until they made their move and converged on her.

As cathartic as it would have been to fight and win, Clara knew that she had to get the hell out of there. She had no other choice. It was true that she wasn't going to get very far in an unfamiliar forest. Turning on her heel, she morphed the shadows into a staircase going up, up, up. She scaled them quickly, forming a solid platform beneath her feet with every step. Then she fueled every remaining ounce of her adrenaline into the wings that emerged from her back. She jumped off the platform she created and glided above the trees. It probably would've been fascinating if she wasn't so terrified. 'Don't look down.' Ah. Well, that was a fun new development. The ringleader's Icarus stunt might've awakened a phobia of heights in her. 'Keep flying, just don't look down.'
 
Mwhahahaha, now Thea was Death, the Destroyer of Worlds! (...or something. Look, what was happening there wasn't fucking important. The cause and the consequence? Pfft, yeah, right. Only nerds ever bothered themselves with such details-- nerds who weren't nearly as pretty as her, and who unironically thought that solving differential equations was a great program for a Saturday party. Like, you wouldn't want to be that fucking uncool, right? Thea Holloway sure as hell didn't, and so she followed the Tenets of CoolnessTM religiously.) "Not so fearless anymore, huh? What does it feel like, to be afraid of a lone fucking girl? Just asking out of curiosity, because I could never be this pathetic." The shadows behind her were assuming a more concrete form-- not tendrils, but rather limbs, misshapen and grotesque. They... might have been broken a couple of times? Broken, and then fucking twisted into impossible angles before being allowed to """heal""". (Kind of like Thea herself, come to think of it. Wow, who would have thought that magic would be this fucking meta? Call the English majors, 'cause they'd be over the moon analyzing that!) "Well? A cat got your tongue?" Thea smirked, cracking her shadow limbs. "Come closer, ladies and gentlemen, and we'll see what my powers actually do. Any fucking volunteers? You should be fighting for the privilege of becoming my lab rats, considering you love licking the demon's boots and shit. Having your ass kicked into oblivion with his powers should be like, dream come true for you guys." Yeah, she might have been tempting fate a little here, but it just felt too good-- pure power coursing through her veins, so explosive that a single spark could set the whole damn building on fire. The sky was the limit. Finally, Thea could live out her videogame protagonist fantasies! Move over, Lara Croft, because the true action heroine was-- was--

"What?" her chestnut eyes widened. "That can't be fucking true. Ivy is a bro. She saved us, and that's a distinctly bro behavior. No fucking way she'd violate the bro code." Unfortunately, once you heard a piece of information, you couldn't exactly unhear it, and so Thea's brain ran with it. If Ivy was such a bro, then how come they knew her fucking name? More importantly, how did they know what had happened among them? Shit! Shit, Clara had mentioned her acting weird behind her back, and... and she'd disregarded her back then. At that moment, her ~hurt fee fees~ had been more important! (...hadn't they always been? Since, you know, that happened to be a trend with selfish fucking assholes.)

'Waking up, crow?' the demon tilted his head aside. 'Too late, because the sun is already high in the sky. There's a reason silly little crows live in flocks, you see? And that reason is that, on your own, you're just dumb fucking birds. You fall for the silliest traps.' Of course, by that point, Thea was no longer listening. To hell with villainous gloating, she had to save Clara! According to the snake, she had the situation under control, but something told her she hadn't accounted for the epic return of the hottest dumbass under the sun-- Thea Holloway herself, empowered by pure rage. Okay, so like, there were windows in this room, right? Hotels had to have windows, 'cause architectural regulations and shit. Jumping out of one wouldn't even be the stupidest decision she'd ever made, and it was the fastest route from point A (being fucked) to point B (being a little less fucked!)

'Oh, crow... I'm sorry, but I don't think I can let you do that. Should have been a little more careful. In fact, maybe you just shouldn't have been born.' What did the demon mean by that? Thea found out much faster than she would have liked, when the shadowy limbs wrapped around her own throat. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

"Aww!" Hannah laughed, watching her struggle against the iron grip. "This is what happens when you use a power that isn't really yours, you stupid little girl. Did you expect the Master to just hand you his crown? Why, because you won the genetic lottery? Hila-fucking-rious. Now, hold still. I promise this will only hurt a little!" The needle pierced her skin, and before Thea could do so much as scream? Her entire world was plunged into darkness, deeper than the blackest of nights.

***

"You bitch!" Ivy shouted. "You will... you will pay for this, I fucking swear. For this, and for Eleanor as well." Eleanor? Who was Eleanor? A good question, but not one that would be answered any time soon. "You think you're gonna get away? Because nobody gets away from the Master. Nobody!" Ah, so the mask was off. Beyond her creepy demeanor, Ivy was just another pathetic, demon-worshiping motherfucker-- not a hint of actual thought processes beyond 'hurrr durrr, we are nothing but humble servants.' Seriously, why did people like that exist? Couldn't they just, like, worship One Direction like all the decent fangirls? Because tying your entire identity to a supernatural entity that most likely wanted to murder them all was some next level desperation. "You won't run away, Clara. Not from yourself, and certainly not from your fate. Stop fucking wasting everyone's time, why don't you? We have your beloved Thea already, so I honestly don't get why you still struggle."

When Clara took off, though? The weird hooded things didn't follow her, nor did they attempt to. A good sign, right? It very well may have been, but Ivy's grin sure as hell wasn't. Oh, quite the opposite. Without a hint of hesitation, the other woman reached into her backpack-- it took her a few seconds of rummaging through, but when she straightened her back again, she was... shit, she was holding a sleek, metallic crossbow. A crossbow, whose bolts were pulsating with an unnatural, dark light.

"Say goodbye to your old life, Clara! Or, you know, your life in general." And, with that? With that, a volley of bolts shattered her wings.
 
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