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Melly Bean the Jelly Bean
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“You gonna keep staring at me, or are you finally gonna ask what’s on your mind?”
The club’s bassline rattled Dylan’s ribs, the air thick with sweat, smoke, and electricity as she sat at the edge of a cracked leather booth, her lips curved into a lazy, dangerous smile. Neon lights sliced through the haze, casting fractured colors over moving bodies, shadows tangled in rhythm. The brunette dragged on her cigarette, letting the question she posed hang and watching the curl of smoke twist between her and the man sitting across the table.
Zane Marlowe’s sharp eyes held hers as he laughed, low and rough, leaning in so the neon caught the tattoos that snaked up his neck. Every part of him, from his rock-star grin to the way he draped his arm along the back of the booth like a king, screamed invincible. And yet, Dylan always managed to find an achilles heel - she’d made a career of it.
“What’s on my mind? That’s bold… sounds like trouble.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” He replied as he lifted his glass, ice clinking against cut crystal. “But I do like a woman who’s not afraid to ask.”
“Maybe she’s what we need.”
She nudged at his thoughts, softening the suspicion and feeding into the hunger, his mind a tangled web of trust and doubt. Another drink, another story traded, and Zane would invite her into the inner circle. She’d spent the last three weeks getting close - nights in dive bars, whispered names, back-alley meetings - all leading up to this moment, this encounter. She finally had a seat at the table, and all she needed was for him to say the word.
“Try me.”
Zane and his crew weren’t just thieves, no, the string of robberies they orchestrated were the tip of the iceberg when it came to their wrongdoings. They were Hyperhumans gone rogue, dangerous, but smart enough to stay just ahead of the law with the help of their abilities. The kind of group that thrived in the cracks of the city, smuggling and dealing as they flitted under the radar. Well, until now. And Dylan was close - so close - to pulling the thread that would unravel the whole thing and bring them in.
The brunette’s fingers brushed lightly over the rim of her glass, hazel eyes locked onto Zane’s from underneath thick lashes. She let him look. Let him want. Play the part, she reminded herself. Keep him hooked.
“You talk like you’re ready for anything. You sure about that?”
She inhaled on her cigarette with ease, blowing smoke to the side, her delicate eyebrow raising ever so slightly. A challenge.
“Only one way to find out, right?”
His grin curved, slow and wolfish, and she instantly felt the shift in his thoughts - the growing attraction, the pull of curiosity outpacing uncertainty. She was in, and all that was left to do was-
BZZZ-BZZZ-BZZZ
The pager on her hip buzzed like an angry wasp, breaking the moment. Zane raised an eyebrow.
“Friends checking in?”
“Something like that.” Dylan flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Give me a sec.”
She slipped from the booth, leather groaning beneath her, and felt his gaze tracking her as she walked away. The club swallowed her steps and the second she hit the door and pushed into the alley, it was like surfacing from deep water. The city night met her with cool, damp air, heavy with the scent of rain on concrete and exhaust. She leaned against the brick wall, exhaling smoke and tension in one slow breath before tugging her pager from her belt loop and squinting to read the glowing numbers.
911.
Spotting a nearby payphone underneath the buzzing streetlights, she hurried over, fed it a quarter, and dialed the number practically burned into her memory.
“This better be damn important.”
“Agent Thatcher, you’ve been recalled. New orders just came in for a high priority case and you’ve been asked for, personally. Report back to Base Alpha immediately.”
Dylan’s eyes went wide before her brows instantly knitted.
“I’m right on the edge here, he’s about to bring me in. You pull me now and this whole thing falls apart. I need more time.” Her voice was tight with barely contained frustration.
“It’s not a request, Thatcher, it’s an order.”
“You understand I'm throwing away weeks of work here? You don’t get it, I can’t just-” Dylan’s jaw clenched hard enough to taste metal as the agent on the other end of the line interjected.
“You can, and you will. This isn’t your call. Walk away, Siren.”
The line went dead, and the brunette slammed the receiver back on its post in rage. For a second, she just stood there, heart pounding, the taste of the moment gone bitter on her tongue. Rain began to patter softly onto the cracked pavement, cold droplets seeping through her jacket as she stared into the shadows of the alley. All of it had been for nothing, erased in an instant by orders she couldn’t ignore.
Her fists curled tightly at her sides. Stubbornness warred with duty, the weight of the recall pressing down like a vice. But she drew a slow breath, crushed her cigarette under her boot, and did what she was told, disappearing into the night.
The club’s bassline rattled Dylan’s ribs, the air thick with sweat, smoke, and electricity as she sat at the edge of a cracked leather booth, her lips curved into a lazy, dangerous smile. Neon lights sliced through the haze, casting fractured colors over moving bodies, shadows tangled in rhythm. The brunette dragged on her cigarette, letting the question she posed hang and watching the curl of smoke twist between her and the man sitting across the table.
Zane Marlowe’s sharp eyes held hers as he laughed, low and rough, leaning in so the neon caught the tattoos that snaked up his neck. Every part of him, from his rock-star grin to the way he draped his arm along the back of the booth like a king, screamed invincible. And yet, Dylan always managed to find an achilles heel - she’d made a career of it.
“What’s on my mind? That’s bold… sounds like trouble.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” He replied as he lifted his glass, ice clinking against cut crystal. “But I do like a woman who’s not afraid to ask.”
“Maybe she’s what we need.”
She nudged at his thoughts, softening the suspicion and feeding into the hunger, his mind a tangled web of trust and doubt. Another drink, another story traded, and Zane would invite her into the inner circle. She’d spent the last three weeks getting close - nights in dive bars, whispered names, back-alley meetings - all leading up to this moment, this encounter. She finally had a seat at the table, and all she needed was for him to say the word.
“Try me.”
Zane and his crew weren’t just thieves, no, the string of robberies they orchestrated were the tip of the iceberg when it came to their wrongdoings. They were Hyperhumans gone rogue, dangerous, but smart enough to stay just ahead of the law with the help of their abilities. The kind of group that thrived in the cracks of the city, smuggling and dealing as they flitted under the radar. Well, until now. And Dylan was close - so close - to pulling the thread that would unravel the whole thing and bring them in.
The brunette’s fingers brushed lightly over the rim of her glass, hazel eyes locked onto Zane’s from underneath thick lashes. She let him look. Let him want. Play the part, she reminded herself. Keep him hooked.
“You talk like you’re ready for anything. You sure about that?”
She inhaled on her cigarette with ease, blowing smoke to the side, her delicate eyebrow raising ever so slightly. A challenge.
“Only one way to find out, right?”
His grin curved, slow and wolfish, and she instantly felt the shift in his thoughts - the growing attraction, the pull of curiosity outpacing uncertainty. She was in, and all that was left to do was-
BZZZ-BZZZ-BZZZ
The pager on her hip buzzed like an angry wasp, breaking the moment. Zane raised an eyebrow.
“Friends checking in?”
“Something like that.” Dylan flashed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Give me a sec.”
She slipped from the booth, leather groaning beneath her, and felt his gaze tracking her as she walked away. The club swallowed her steps and the second she hit the door and pushed into the alley, it was like surfacing from deep water. The city night met her with cool, damp air, heavy with the scent of rain on concrete and exhaust. She leaned against the brick wall, exhaling smoke and tension in one slow breath before tugging her pager from her belt loop and squinting to read the glowing numbers.
911.
Spotting a nearby payphone underneath the buzzing streetlights, she hurried over, fed it a quarter, and dialed the number practically burned into her memory.
“This better be damn important.”
“Agent Thatcher, you’ve been recalled. New orders just came in for a high priority case and you’ve been asked for, personally. Report back to Base Alpha immediately.”
Dylan’s eyes went wide before her brows instantly knitted.
“I’m right on the edge here, he’s about to bring me in. You pull me now and this whole thing falls apart. I need more time.” Her voice was tight with barely contained frustration.
“It’s not a request, Thatcher, it’s an order.”
“You understand I'm throwing away weeks of work here? You don’t get it, I can’t just-” Dylan’s jaw clenched hard enough to taste metal as the agent on the other end of the line interjected.
“You can, and you will. This isn’t your call. Walk away, Siren.”
The line went dead, and the brunette slammed the receiver back on its post in rage. For a second, she just stood there, heart pounding, the taste of the moment gone bitter on her tongue. Rain began to patter softly onto the cracked pavement, cold droplets seeping through her jacket as she stared into the shadows of the alley. All of it had been for nothing, erased in an instant by orders she couldn’t ignore.
Her fists curled tightly at her sides. Stubbornness warred with duty, the weight of the recall pressing down like a vice. But she drew a slow breath, crushed her cigarette under her boot, and did what she was told, disappearing into the night.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): None
Previously: None
The trip back to Base Alpha had been quiet, Dylan having spent the flight battling with the turmoil and unsettled angst she felt while balancing the mental chaos that transpired around her. Every detail of the night replayed in relentless loops - the flash of neon off Zane’s grin, the heat of the moment when she’d almost had him hooked, the cold, clipped voice over the payphone that had shattered it all.
But it was a new day, and she had a new case awaiting her. Not to mention, a new title.
Senior Secret Agent.
Duquesne had called her into his office before she had been sent out on the previous assignment with the good news, accompanied by some kind words about her recent performance and forwarded regards from Church, who was away on a much deserved vacation. This would mark the first time she was back at the base in her new elevated role, and she had a feeling some folks wouldn’t be pleased. Luckily, she’d be the first to know if they had envy on the brain.
Once at the office, the brunette packed the last of her belongings and trinkets into a cardboard box before bidding her old desk farewell, heading towards her new domain. While still on the main floor, Senior Agents had detached desks with panels that provided some additional privacy and were located alongside the windowed walls of the building. It wasn’t a door with a lock, but nonetheless it was still an upgrade from the standard cubicles in the bullpen.
Noise filtered into her mind as she passed by her colleagues, their ongoing mental dialogue melding with her own.
“...hasn’t she called me back? I thought she was into me since…”
“...eggs, potatoes, I need broccoli and he’ll kill me if I forget the green…”
“...14 weeks, which I know is early to start telling people, but we’re just so excited about…”
“...can’t believe Thatcher got promoted. She hardly deserves it, I bet she just persuaded them to give it to her. Fucking telepaths.”
Stopping in her tracks and turning on a patent leather heel, Dylan faced the offender whose thought had stuck out from the rest. Richard Morris, Special Agent. He had started a few months before her back in ‘84 and was without a doubt bitter about the situation- he reeked of jealousy.
“Insecurity’s loud, Morris. Turn it down a little bit, would you?” She watched his face go beet red as realization hit, the surrounding agents taking notice of the interaction. The brunette moved towards him, his thoughts and panic growing deafening with each step as she closed the distance that separated them. Calmly, she lowered her voice to a whisper for only him to hear.
“Maybe focus less on what I ‘don’t deserve’ and more on earning something yourself.” She smirked, “Just a thought - since you’re so good at them.”
“T-that’s an invasion of privacy, Thatcher,” Richard sputtered, “Get out of my head.”
Dylan tilted her head, a devilish glint in her eye as sweat began to dot his brow.
“It’s not like I want to be in there.” Her tone was light, laced with amusement. “I’m far too busy with actual work to waste time sifting through whatever’s rattling around in that skull of yours.” The tension in the air thickened as Richard’s indignation warred with the embarrassment that came off of him in waves.
“Besides, if I really wanted to, I’d definitely need a hazmat suit.”
A few agents nearby choked back laughter, the strain breaking just enough for the crackle of mental static to shift - half of them enjoying the show, the other half relieved it wasn’t them caught in the crosshairs. She didn’t wait for a response from the agent in front of her, definitively turning her back in order to glance at her onlooking coworkers.
“Anyone else have any grievances? No?” Wide eyes stared back at her in reply as she tapped her manicured nails against the box in her arms impatiently, “In that case, I’ll be at my new desk if anyone needs me.” The sound of her heels were sharp against the polished floor as she sauntered away, punctuating the stunned silence she left in her wake. The hum of cerebral chatter slowly resumed, but it was no longer the careless stream of consciousness it had been before.
“...that was brutal, Morris is going to stew over this for a month…”
“...hope she didn’t hear what I was thinking about the Director earlier…”
“...oh god, think about work - think about work - think about anything else…”
“...makes it look so easy, she definitely enjoys it…”
While not always the case, there was some satisfaction to be had in making people squirm - after all, she had consciously amped up Morris’ panic to teach him a lesson. She wasn’t a sadist, not really; she didn’t enjoy wading through the despair and clutter of other people’s thoughts. But sometimes, when the noise got too loud or too cruel, it felt damn good to quiet it - even if only for a moment.
As she set the box down on her new desk, she saw a fresh case file resting neatly in the center of the table, thick and marked URGENT and CLASSIFIED in red across the top. A note was clipped on, Duquesne’s handwriting quick and familiar.
Didn’t mean to cut your last assignment short, but going to need you on this one. - D
Dylan let out a quiet breath, fingers brushing over the folder’s edge before setting the note aside and opening the file, shutting out the dull hum of the office behind her to the best of her ability.
Time to get to work.
But it was a new day, and she had a new case awaiting her. Not to mention, a new title.
Senior Secret Agent.
Duquesne had called her into his office before she had been sent out on the previous assignment with the good news, accompanied by some kind words about her recent performance and forwarded regards from Church, who was away on a much deserved vacation. This would mark the first time she was back at the base in her new elevated role, and she had a feeling some folks wouldn’t be pleased. Luckily, she’d be the first to know if they had envy on the brain.
Once at the office, the brunette packed the last of her belongings and trinkets into a cardboard box before bidding her old desk farewell, heading towards her new domain. While still on the main floor, Senior Agents had detached desks with panels that provided some additional privacy and were located alongside the windowed walls of the building. It wasn’t a door with a lock, but nonetheless it was still an upgrade from the standard cubicles in the bullpen.
Noise filtered into her mind as she passed by her colleagues, their ongoing mental dialogue melding with her own.
“...hasn’t she called me back? I thought she was into me since…”
“...eggs, potatoes, I need broccoli and he’ll kill me if I forget the green…”
“...14 weeks, which I know is early to start telling people, but we’re just so excited about…”
“...can’t believe Thatcher got promoted. She hardly deserves it, I bet she just persuaded them to give it to her. Fucking telepaths.”
Stopping in her tracks and turning on a patent leather heel, Dylan faced the offender whose thought had stuck out from the rest. Richard Morris, Special Agent. He had started a few months before her back in ‘84 and was without a doubt bitter about the situation- he reeked of jealousy.
“Insecurity’s loud, Morris. Turn it down a little bit, would you?” She watched his face go beet red as realization hit, the surrounding agents taking notice of the interaction. The brunette moved towards him, his thoughts and panic growing deafening with each step as she closed the distance that separated them. Calmly, she lowered her voice to a whisper for only him to hear.
“Maybe focus less on what I ‘don’t deserve’ and more on earning something yourself.” She smirked, “Just a thought - since you’re so good at them.”
“T-that’s an invasion of privacy, Thatcher,” Richard sputtered, “Get out of my head.”
Dylan tilted her head, a devilish glint in her eye as sweat began to dot his brow.
“It’s not like I want to be in there.” Her tone was light, laced with amusement. “I’m far too busy with actual work to waste time sifting through whatever’s rattling around in that skull of yours.” The tension in the air thickened as Richard’s indignation warred with the embarrassment that came off of him in waves.
“Besides, if I really wanted to, I’d definitely need a hazmat suit.”
A few agents nearby choked back laughter, the strain breaking just enough for the crackle of mental static to shift - half of them enjoying the show, the other half relieved it wasn’t them caught in the crosshairs. She didn’t wait for a response from the agent in front of her, definitively turning her back in order to glance at her onlooking coworkers.
“Anyone else have any grievances? No?” Wide eyes stared back at her in reply as she tapped her manicured nails against the box in her arms impatiently, “In that case, I’ll be at my new desk if anyone needs me.” The sound of her heels were sharp against the polished floor as she sauntered away, punctuating the stunned silence she left in her wake. The hum of cerebral chatter slowly resumed, but it was no longer the careless stream of consciousness it had been before.
“...that was brutal, Morris is going to stew over this for a month…”
“...hope she didn’t hear what I was thinking about the Director earlier…”
“...oh god, think about work - think about work - think about anything else…”
“...makes it look so easy, she definitely enjoys it…”
While not always the case, there was some satisfaction to be had in making people squirm - after all, she had consciously amped up Morris’ panic to teach him a lesson. She wasn’t a sadist, not really; she didn’t enjoy wading through the despair and clutter of other people’s thoughts. But sometimes, when the noise got too loud or too cruel, it felt damn good to quiet it - even if only for a moment.
As she set the box down on her new desk, she saw a fresh case file resting neatly in the center of the table, thick and marked URGENT and CLASSIFIED in red across the top. A note was clipped on, Duquesne’s handwriting quick and familiar.
Didn’t mean to cut your last assignment short, but going to need you on this one. - D
Dylan let out a quiet breath, fingers brushing over the folder’s edge before setting the note aside and opening the file, shutting out the dull hum of the office behind her to the best of her ability.
Time to get to work.
Yuck.
(Working on my character sheet now...)
(Working on my character sheet now...)
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Blackwood - Ünterland
Human #5.097: Don't Blame Me
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): N/A
Previously: Game of Survival
Rest evaded Aurora, as it so often did.
The Blackwood was yet another new place where she found herself resting her head, though the coven felt considerably more secure than Cassius’ home had. Amma was the closest thing she had to familiarity now, though the redhead had never felt completely at ease in her presence — and clearly, neither had Amma, judging by the lukewarm reunion. Maybe that was why Aurora had managed to close her eyes at all, falling into a dreamless, shallow sleep that held her for an hour, possibly more.
When she woke, the room was dim and hushed. Aurora blinked up at the low ceiling, disoriented for a moment before memory caught up with her. She sat up slowly, wincing as a dull ache threaded through her stiff limbs. The tightness in her chest - the one that had gripped her the moment they crossed into Ünterland - remained, a persistent, heavy reminder that she was somewhere she didn’t quite belong.
Knowing it was unlikely she’d doze off again, Aurora rubbed her face with both hands and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Scanning her surroundings, she realized she was alone once more - Amma having slipped out in the short time that she had fallen asleep.
Pushing to her feet and pulling her cloak from the bedpost, Aurora wrapped the fabric tightly around her shoulders before venturing out the door. The storm had softened to a steady drizzle and the night remained heavy with the scent of wet earth as she stepped outside, the wind gently weaving through her copper waves.
The coven milled about, their voices too soft to catch as they whispered to each other, their words carried away in the breeze. Aurora watched them for a moment, uncertain. There was a rhythm to their movements, a quiet urgency. She could feel it prickling against her skin - not panic, exactly, but a tension that thrummed just beneath the surface, like a string pulled taut.
A few of the witches glanced her way as she emerged, their expressions unreadable in the darkness. None approached her. None spoke. It was as if her presence was noted and then quickly dismissed, as though she were a guest at the edge of a conversation she wasn't invited to join. She knew they were wary given the events of the last few hours, and of her companion.
The companion who stood stoically where she had left him, a lone silhouette facing the forest unmoving except for the slow shift of his head as if tracking something unseen.
“Cassius,” Aurora regarded him softly as she approached and his head tilted slightly as she made her presence known, but he did not turn to face her.
“You should be resting, fair one,” His voice was low, almost distracted as he murmured, but the redhead ignored his dismissal, her feet remaining firmly planted in the soft soil.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She replied simply, following his line of sight towards the treeline. The branches swayed in the wind, their dark skeletal silhouettes shifting and curling in the light of the crimson moon, but aside from that she saw no other movement. “Amma went somewhere and I was hoping to talk to her. Have you seen her?”
“Not since he showed up, no.” The vampire stated and Aurora’s brow instantly furrowed.
"He?"
Cassius finally turned toward her then, his obsidian eyes meeting her sapphire gaze. His expression was difficult to read, as per usual, but there was a tension in his face she recognized.
"A man," He started, "Came out of the woods not long after you went to lay down. She knew him."
Aurora froze. Could it be?
“What did he look like?” She pressed, inching closer without realizing it, and Cassius tilted his head, considering her question prior to answering.
“Dark hair,” He started, and any hope in the redhead’s eyes was instantly snuffed out. Not Lorcán. “Tall, blue eyes with a beard. Seemed happy to see her.” Her eyebrows raised.
“Gil,” She breathed, the tightness in her chest decreasing ever so slightly. One more piece of the puzzle was resolved- they hadn’t seen him since arriving in Ünterland. “That’s my friend, the one I told you about, who we lost when we came here.” Fearfully, she asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “Was anyone else with him? Maybe a man with lighter hair and orange eyes? Scar on his face?”
“Unless your lover has wings and multiple beady eyes, then no, he wasn’t with him.”
Aurora huffed a small, breathless laugh, the sound raw and utterly tired. She didn’t even want to ask what he meant by that.
"No," She muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. "Definitely not." She was relieved - truly - to know that Gil had found his way back to them, to Amma. But the unease didn’t fully dissipate. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, arms wrapping around herself against the chill that seemed to seep from the very earth into her bones.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and the witches?” The redhead pivoted the discussion to another thought that had been eating away at her since they’d arrived and for a long moment, she thought he might refuse. Then, Cassius shifted, the movement slow and deliberate, like a man carefully unwrapping old wounds.
"I wronged one of their own," He replied, and Aurora could see a sliver of emotion in his obsidian eyes.
Pain.
She frowned, waiting for more, but he offered nothing else.
"You wronged them how?" She asked delicately, her curiosity outweighing her caution. There was a long pause. Then, without looking at her, he answered.
"I made a promise I did not keep." He uttered, the words were soft but cut deeper than if he’d shouted them.
Aurora opened her mouth to ask for more, but something in his face, the distant way he spoke, warned her against it. It was more than anguish that ate away at him, it was regret. A regret so old and settled it had become part of him. But she had nothing else to lose, so she cleared her throat against her better judgement.
"Was it… someone you cared about?" She carefully probed, and Cassius’ mouth twitched, that flicker of emotion barely visible, rising to the surface.
"Once," He wistfully said, "A long time ago."
Cassius’ lips parted slightly as if he was about to divulge more, but then his entire posture shifted- it may have been subtle, but Aurora noticed the instant tightening of his jaw, the way his shoulders squared. His gaze darkened and flicked past her, narrowing beyond the trees. Something was coming.
The temperature of the air suddenly spiked around them, a stark contrast to the chill of the storm, and a glow flickered at the edge of her vision, orange and vibrant.
“Aurora!”
She’d know that voice anywhere.
Aurora spun on her heel, heart lurching into her throat as there, standing in the clearing, was Lorcán. Her breath caught, not just at the sight of him, but also at the familiar fire that engulfed his hand.
Lively flames licked up his palm and wrist, a beacon in the darkness indicating that against all odds, he’d regained his abilities here in Ünterland. It didn’t make sense, in fact, it was nearly impossible based on what Ellara had foretold. But there was no time for explanation, not when Aurora could see the simmering anger that only intensified as he grew closer, the light from the fire illuminating his tense features and his molten gaze pinned on Cassius.
Approaching quickly, his fingers curled into a fist, the flames snapping and flaring brighter, hungry for something to burn. And as he spoke, Lorcán’s voice was edged with something volatile, something barely restrained, heat rolling off of him.
”Get away from my wife.”
The Blackwood was yet another new place where she found herself resting her head, though the coven felt considerably more secure than Cassius’ home had. Amma was the closest thing she had to familiarity now, though the redhead had never felt completely at ease in her presence — and clearly, neither had Amma, judging by the lukewarm reunion. Maybe that was why Aurora had managed to close her eyes at all, falling into a dreamless, shallow sleep that held her for an hour, possibly more.
When she woke, the room was dim and hushed. Aurora blinked up at the low ceiling, disoriented for a moment before memory caught up with her. She sat up slowly, wincing as a dull ache threaded through her stiff limbs. The tightness in her chest - the one that had gripped her the moment they crossed into Ünterland - remained, a persistent, heavy reminder that she was somewhere she didn’t quite belong.
Knowing it was unlikely she’d doze off again, Aurora rubbed her face with both hands and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Scanning her surroundings, she realized she was alone once more - Amma having slipped out in the short time that she had fallen asleep.
Pushing to her feet and pulling her cloak from the bedpost, Aurora wrapped the fabric tightly around her shoulders before venturing out the door. The storm had softened to a steady drizzle and the night remained heavy with the scent of wet earth as she stepped outside, the wind gently weaving through her copper waves.
The coven milled about, their voices too soft to catch as they whispered to each other, their words carried away in the breeze. Aurora watched them for a moment, uncertain. There was a rhythm to their movements, a quiet urgency. She could feel it prickling against her skin - not panic, exactly, but a tension that thrummed just beneath the surface, like a string pulled taut.
A few of the witches glanced her way as she emerged, their expressions unreadable in the darkness. None approached her. None spoke. It was as if her presence was noted and then quickly dismissed, as though she were a guest at the edge of a conversation she wasn't invited to join. She knew they were wary given the events of the last few hours, and of her companion.
The companion who stood stoically where she had left him, a lone silhouette facing the forest unmoving except for the slow shift of his head as if tracking something unseen.
“Cassius,” Aurora regarded him softly as she approached and his head tilted slightly as she made her presence known, but he did not turn to face her.
“You should be resting, fair one,” His voice was low, almost distracted as he murmured, but the redhead ignored his dismissal, her feet remaining firmly planted in the soft soil.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She replied simply, following his line of sight towards the treeline. The branches swayed in the wind, their dark skeletal silhouettes shifting and curling in the light of the crimson moon, but aside from that she saw no other movement. “Amma went somewhere and I was hoping to talk to her. Have you seen her?”
“Not since he showed up, no.” The vampire stated and Aurora’s brow instantly furrowed.
"He?"
Cassius finally turned toward her then, his obsidian eyes meeting her sapphire gaze. His expression was difficult to read, as per usual, but there was a tension in his face she recognized.
"A man," He started, "Came out of the woods not long after you went to lay down. She knew him."
Aurora froze. Could it be?
“What did he look like?” She pressed, inching closer without realizing it, and Cassius tilted his head, considering her question prior to answering.
“Dark hair,” He started, and any hope in the redhead’s eyes was instantly snuffed out. Not Lorcán. “Tall, blue eyes with a beard. Seemed happy to see her.” Her eyebrows raised.
“Gil,” She breathed, the tightness in her chest decreasing ever so slightly. One more piece of the puzzle was resolved- they hadn’t seen him since arriving in Ünterland. “That’s my friend, the one I told you about, who we lost when we came here.” Fearfully, she asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “Was anyone else with him? Maybe a man with lighter hair and orange eyes? Scar on his face?”
“Unless your lover has wings and multiple beady eyes, then no, he wasn’t with him.”
Aurora huffed a small, breathless laugh, the sound raw and utterly tired. She didn’t even want to ask what he meant by that.
"No," She muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. "Definitely not." She was relieved - truly - to know that Gil had found his way back to them, to Amma. But the unease didn’t fully dissipate. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, arms wrapping around herself against the chill that seemed to seep from the very earth into her bones.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and the witches?” The redhead pivoted the discussion to another thought that had been eating away at her since they’d arrived and for a long moment, she thought he might refuse. Then, Cassius shifted, the movement slow and deliberate, like a man carefully unwrapping old wounds.
"I wronged one of their own," He replied, and Aurora could see a sliver of emotion in his obsidian eyes.
Pain.
She frowned, waiting for more, but he offered nothing else.
"You wronged them how?" She asked delicately, her curiosity outweighing her caution. There was a long pause. Then, without looking at her, he answered.
"I made a promise I did not keep." He uttered, the words were soft but cut deeper than if he’d shouted them.
Aurora opened her mouth to ask for more, but something in his face, the distant way he spoke, warned her against it. It was more than anguish that ate away at him, it was regret. A regret so old and settled it had become part of him. But she had nothing else to lose, so she cleared her throat against her better judgement.
"Was it… someone you cared about?" She carefully probed, and Cassius’ mouth twitched, that flicker of emotion barely visible, rising to the surface.
"Once," He wistfully said, "A long time ago."
Cassius’ lips parted slightly as if he was about to divulge more, but then his entire posture shifted- it may have been subtle, but Aurora noticed the instant tightening of his jaw, the way his shoulders squared. His gaze darkened and flicked past her, narrowing beyond the trees. Something was coming.
The temperature of the air suddenly spiked around them, a stark contrast to the chill of the storm, and a glow flickered at the edge of her vision, orange and vibrant.
“Aurora!”
She’d know that voice anywhere.
Aurora spun on her heel, heart lurching into her throat as there, standing in the clearing, was Lorcán. Her breath caught, not just at the sight of him, but also at the familiar fire that engulfed his hand.
Lively flames licked up his palm and wrist, a beacon in the darkness indicating that against all odds, he’d regained his abilities here in Ünterland. It didn’t make sense, in fact, it was nearly impossible based on what Ellara had foretold. But there was no time for explanation, not when Aurora could see the simmering anger that only intensified as he grew closer, the light from the fire illuminating his tense features and his molten gaze pinned on Cassius.
Approaching quickly, his fingers curled into a fist, the flames snapping and flaring brighter, hungry for something to burn. And as he spoke, Lorcán’s voice was edged with something volatile, something barely restrained, heat rolling off of him.
”Get away from my wife.”
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Blackwood - Ünterland
Human #5.089: Game of Survival
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The moment that Aurora and Cassius stepped into the Blackwood, the very air around them seemed to shift.
Towering oaks swallowed what little crimson moonlight touched the earth, their twisted limbs knitting together to form a dense canopy above. Fog slithered between the trunks, curling around the forest floor as if it had a mind of its own. The further that the pair trekked, healthy trees turned singed, their branches kissed by flame, which evolved into fully obliterated trunks covered in ash and embers. The vampire could only shake his head in disbelief as they walked cautiously through the wood. Parts of the underbrush continued to burn and Aurora stomped out what she could, all while the bone-chilling screeches persisted, the cries of something monstrous and enraged only growing louder the deeper they went.
“This is wrong, very wrong,” Cassius breathed, “I’ve never seen destruction like this before.” His voice was quiet, but laced with unease and the redhead shot him a wary glance, her own pulse quickening. If even he was unsettled, then whatever had done this was beyond the ordinary. She began to ponder what could have caused such ruin, what kind of force could leave their surroundings in such a state, and as if answering her unspoken inquiry, a massive shadow passed overhead and blocked out the last remaining slivers of moonlight.
Aurora barely had time to register the shape before a powerful gust of wind hit her like a wall, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her companion didn’t hesitate, yanking her into the shadow of a nearby cluster of trees, pulling them both off the obvious path just as a stream of fire erupted from the beast’s maw, illuminating the sky above in a blinding burst of orange and gold.
“Is that a-” Aurora started, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she instinctively ducked, her voice barely audible over the roar of the creature above.
“Yes,” Cassius answered grimly, his grip on her arm tightening. He didn’t have to say it, he didn’t need to.
A dragon.
Its enormous wings sent down currents of searing air, the tattered membranes stretched wide, their ragged edges proof of a recent and vicious fight. The beast let out another bone-rattling screech, before flying higher into the sky and fleeing into the darkness, disappearing from view entirely. When it was quiet again, Aurora exhaled slowly, her muscles still tense and her thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and fear.
“Is that… normal around here?” She asked, silently hoping that this was a common occurrence in these parts. But she already knew the answer even before Cassius replied.
“No,” He stated, his gaze still fixed above them, eyes narrowed and watchful. “Certainly not.” His obsidian eyes met hers, “We need to keep moving before it returns.”
The redhead didn’t argue, vigorously nodding in agreement as they returned to the path, continuing onward and picking up the pace. Neither of them spoke again, the only sounds that filled the oppressive silence being the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath their boots and the distant crackle of burning trees, that is, until the beginnings of a storm began to snuff out the flames. Rain trickled in from the canopy above, dissipating the fog that hugged their ankles.
Not long after evading the beast, the trees began to thin and the path widened, the forest gradually giving way though devastation still lingered in the air, thick with smoke and the distant crackle of fire. Emerging from the treeline and still attempting to calm her racing heart, Aurora was met with complete and utter chaos unfolding before her eyes. In the clearing was a village in disarray, its inhabitants scrambling in the aftermath of what she could only assume was a direct result of the dragon. Many were wounded, their injuries visible and actively bleeding while others rushed to provide aid, doing what they could in their current circumstances, their voices urgent and strained.
There was so much to look at, but the redhead’s eye was inherently drawn to a line of demarcation embedded into the earth. On one side, the ground was scorched, and fire that hadn’t been extinguished burned in patches, casting eerie orange glows against the darkened sky. Deep gouges and craters marked where the beast’s claws had torn through the soil and pools of dark acidic blood festered. But on the other side… nothing. Almost as if there had been an invisible wall of protection thrown up around the village. Its huts made of stone remained completely intact, their exteriors covered in various white markings. Were these the witches that Cassius and Gideon had spoken of?
And then Aurora saw her.
There, standing amongst the wreckage, was her teammate. Amma’s usually bright blue eyes were dull with shock, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if attempting to shrink away, to disappear into the backdrop of ruin. Aurora took an instinctive step forward, the need to reach her outweighing every other thought in her mind.
“Not so fast, fair one,” Cassius must have spotted her as well, and fisted the fabric of the redhead’s cloak and pulled, effectively holding her back before she could make a break towards her friend. “Have you already forgotten what I said about them not liking trespassers?”
She had been so focused on Amma that she hadn’t even noticed the glares and stares, the countless eyes pinned on her every move, the coven having noticed the pair’s presence almost immediately upon intruding on their village. Her sapphire gaze flitted from person to person as they quickly became surrounded, hostility thickening the air around them. She swallowed uncomfortably.
“If you’re wise, you’ll let me do the talking,” He murmured to her under his breath, his grip on her cloak loosening slightly as he stepped forward, putting himself between her and the encroaching witches.
A vicious, rippling snarl immediately cleaves through the palpable sorrow of mourning, the storm has lessened in intensity, but rain continues to fall in a steady thrum as thunder distantly sounds, followed by coils of red-streaked lightning through clouds of black. Grief translated differently for each, but the wolves salivated on the tides of ruin and pain in the loss of their alpha, their master, their friend, Dain had led them for years, and his death was a quivering disruption to their conjoined souls, now threaded with death as the herald for their intertwined agony. Such a tragedy that quivered with each heaving growl as the wolves stalked closer, some wreathed in injury, and others not, pelts muddled with crimson splotches and streaks and fangs glistening in the severe draw of their trembling maws. Even some of the familiars, trilling beasts, and clamoring vipers, some Felidae creatures suddenly stalking from the shadows as if forged of it, crept closer at the trespassing vampyre and his… companion.
The witches intersect betwixt them, jewels twinkling with hidden light and silver accentuated through their raised palms, some beheld gold in their hands and then stopped, eyes shimmering with distrust and clamoring power. The battle lingered, heightening senses and emotions, the runes marked into their houses still aglow with spells awaiting to be uttered.
“You know you’re not welcome here,” one of the witches announces with finality. “Or did you follow that beast, and thought to try and finish us off?”
“You’ll find that we don’t easily surrender. Not anymore.”
Aurora tensed, every muscle in her body screaming at her to move, to act - but Cassius stood still as stone beside her, unreadable as ever. The witches’ words dripped with disgust and suspicion and the collective glare of those that surrounded them bored into the redhead’s soul. But it was the wolves, their snarls a haunting chorus, that sent a chill down her spine, setting the fine hairs on her arms on edge.
If Cassius said the wrong thing- if he so much as breathed the wrong way- this would turn into something they wouldn’t walk away from. The vampire, to his credit, seemed entirely unfazed. He lifted his hands in a slow, deliberate motion, daring to let his lips curl into a smirk, laced with something dangerous.
“Now, now. That was years ago. Surely we’re past that by now?” He mused, voice smooth as velvet. He took a casual step forward, his posture open, disarming- yet the air around him thickened, like a storm brewing just out of sight.
“I have no quarrel with you. I didn’t come here with fangs bared, and I certainly don’t take pleasure in this.” The statement was calm but edged with steel, and for a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. “We’re looking for someone. We have reason to believe she’s here amongst your coven.”
She. A mute exchange unraveled through each, emeralds and sapphires humming faintly, their jeweled conduits gradually dimming with the quiet revelation that slid through every flutter of lash and subtle nod of their heads. The tell-tale rumbling of the wolves also whispered through curious yips and trills, some of the Familiars shaking loose the tension that corded through enchanted, magically inclined muscle before parting at the quiet steps of their maven. Kylmie approached Cassius with eyes still curiously aglow with the shimmering, white light of the barrier she had invoked, but weariness listed through her features, contoured briefly with exhaustion and pain that ignited a tremor through her bones. Still, she stood before their once-upon-a-time foe, and with those piercing eyes, she regarded Aurora with a slight cant of her head. Hidden though by her cloak’s hood, Kylmie recognized that familiar thrum of a shredded essence on the slight girl, however, a coil of light, of purity and wholeness lingered there as a kernel of something unnamed but felt as warming tendrils of affection and hope. So frail, she mused, and with a shift to her right, she cut off Amma’s profile that gradually wavered in the distance, hissing tongues of flame accentuating her twisted features as another clash of thunder rolled through the remains of the Blackwood.
“Cassius,” Kylmie announced. “I won’t waste time with empty exchanges, the dragon will return and we hardly have the time to entertain you.” She carefully pushed wetted pieces of black from her face, a soft hiss punctuating her words whilst one of the vipers coiled up around her waist, resting a wide, horned head on her shoulder, eyes of vermillion fixated on Aurora with a thick, ebony tongue flickering in curious appraisal. “If the Jarl sent you, I’m afraid it’s on a failed quest. Even if someone had come to us, we’d never give them to you, or him.”
The vampire exhaled slowly through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching in restrained irritation, but he did not let his feelings show beyond that.
“Kylmie,” Cassius stated by way of an acknowledgment, and Aurora quickly gathered that the woman must have been high amongst their ranks. “I understand your mistrust,” He sympathized, his intonation steady, measured. “But I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Jarl. I have no interest in any affairs other than my own.” He broke Kylmie’s gaze to glance at the storm-ravaged sky. “Whatever grievances you still hold against me, I doubt the dragon will care for your grudges when it strikes again. So just-”
“She’s my friend.”
Aurora stepped forward despite her companion’s earlier words of warning, straightening and holding her ground against those that surrounded them. She could instantly feel his patience wane as a direct result of her going against his wishes. She pulled back her hood just enough to reveal more of her soft features and copper hair, the strands curling at the ends as the rain continued to fall.
“She’s here, I saw her.” She pressed, her sapphire eyes flicking past Kylmie’s shoulder and the snake that was now perched there which made her heartbeat quicken. “Please, I just want to bring her back.” She expressed, softer now, but no less resolute.
Kylmie’s eyes softened, albeit briefly and hesitantly, still her countenance waned at the reveal of Aurora all the same with her copper hair and bright eyes shaded by the crimson light of the moon spearing through the clouded sky. The viper lifted from her shoulder and exchanged a glance with her, a method of communication with a sentient creature that flitted over the threshold of bestial aggression. Intelligence simmered there in those resplendent eyes, shimmering a myriad of colors reminiscent of precious gems before it coiled across her nape and rested over her opposite shoulder, dismissing Aurora and Cassius entirely.
Quietly, she leaned close, bent slightly at the waist to scrutinize the breadth of Aurora’s sorrows, quaint and minute, but impacted by loss all the more with her pleading words.
“What is your name?”
Silence stretched between them, Aurora’s gaze stuck on the reptile whose beady eyes seemingly gathered unspoken judgement. Cassius nudged her, a little too forcefully, and the girl looked to her companion and his darkened gaze. He shook his head subtly, imparting another warning upon the redhead to not reveal herself, but the girl did not heed it. They had come this far, she was right there, and this opportunity would not pass her by.
“Aurora,” Her voice was level despite the weight of so many eyes upon her. “My name is Aurora.”
There was a brief flicker, subtle, barely-there, just a flashing glimmer of recognition as soon as she spoke her name aloud and Kylmie took a delicate step back, her palms suddenly wed together, clutching her fingers into an interlocked web of trepidation. She had heard her name before, uttered painfully by the girl she undoubtedly was seeking. But to what end, she contemplated and silently stepped aside to reveal Amma who shook with a powerful tremor, as if an unspooled connection of her shattered being that became suddenly aware that she was not so alone. Her arms dropped from where they had woven around her middle and she made careful steps forward, eyes peeled wide as Kylmie gestured for the remainders of her coven to make space for this reunion. Shock rolled through her, swallowed immediately by an unknown emotion that simmered beside a rage; a sweltering wrath of something eclipsed by the finite wells of pain that only this realm could bring. She met Aurora’s eyes and within, she snapped.
“Aurora?” She hissed around that name, and let it curl over her tongue awash in unbridled disbelief and agony. The last she had seen her… No, she hadn’t been there. Right? The dance. They vanished. They left.
Left them to nothing- behind, while the beast tore them apart. Or, had she done that? Where was the demarcation of the true beast conceptualized from the shadows that threatened to pull her beyond the depths of the void? How did she even know if this was real? Thus far this world had revealed nothing but misery and lies, and in the aftermath of the dragon, who was to say this was not another ploy to tear asunder the depths of heart? Her hollow eyes narrowed, devoid of their crystalline shine, and remained as deadened slivers of sudden mistrust.
“Or is this another trap? Maybe I’m dreaming, again. Maybe the dragon did kill us; stuck in an endless loop of this… place.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat, air stolen from her lungs as Amma’s words met her ears, raw and frayed at the edges. There was no warmth to the raven haired girl’s voice - there never had been as long as she’d known her - but this felt different, colder, if that was even possible. She looked wrecked, her usually striking features hollowed by grief, by skepticism, by something dangerously close to despair. Her eyes, the mirror to her own, felt unfamiliar, lacking their normal sharpness. The redhead had never seen her in such a state so…
Broken.
Cautiously, she moved towards her, but again, Cassius attempted to intervene. He placed a strong hand on Aurora’s shoulder, leaning in close to her cheek and whispering in her ear.
"It’s possible she’s not the same girl you once knew."
"Amma," She shrugged off the vampire’s grip and took another step towards her. Her tone was gentle, as if speaking too loudly might cause her friend to crumble entirely. “This isn’t a trap or a dream. I’m real, I’m here.” In one fluid motion she removed the hood of her cape and let it fall to her back, fully putting herself on display to help discern reality from dream. Taking a deep breath, she chose to use the name the girl had revealed that fateful night, the one she’d held close to her chest since then.
“Ammaranthe.”
The name hung between them, thick with meaning, with memory. It was a tether, fragile and tenuous, but a tether all the same.
“Don’t-” she hissed, fingers splayed, cracking, palms once bidden and assaulted by coils of red now devoid of their manifest, the once tangible threads of the world succumbed to her rage forsaken as her hands shook with such a tremor that her arms trembled. A name that was not her name, that withheld all the power in the world, her world, now shaded in red. Her muscles bunched and grew rigid, every line in Amma’s body shored up and taut, shoulders drawn out and in as she approached Aurora on that fateful calling. It whispered betwixt them over, and over, and over again, echoing off the voided space of her ribs where the dredges of darkness lingered eternally, ragged and decrepit, no longer omnipotent.
“You might be here now... But you weren’t there.” Why did it enrage her so? It felt wrong, soiled, undeserving even, but her designation lanced deep, planted itself there, and writhed in remembrance of the one who had found her name hidden in the depths of her despair. Written in scarlet whorls of destruction to shatter against her ailed soul, the memories that still sluiced through her mind hazed out in monochromatic shadows possessed of blue eyes and the spindle of red she had given her once, another life she had saved.
“I did not give that name to you.”
Aurora tensed, but did not yield nor falter. No, she lifted her chin intentionally as Amma lashed out, each word ammunition, each syllable honed to wound, yet they did not deter her.
“But you did give me your name - at least you tried to. During the trial before you were dragged into the void.”
“Maybe it wasn’t intentional. You probably didn’t even want to. But perhaps you needed to, and I’ve held onto that since.” She revealed, “It was only after the dance that I finally learned what you were hoping to say.” Aurora could see Cassius out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head in disagreement, but he didn’t understand. There was a raw, visceral pull in her chest, an undeniable certainty that she had to reach Amma - had to break through the fury and grief curling off of her in waves.
“I know I wasn’t there, that we weren’t there. If we had been, things would have been very different, and I’m so, so sorry for that,” The redhead replied, taking another step towards the girl, attempting to close the distance just a bit more. “I’ve carried that guilt with me and will continue to for a long time. Lorcán as well.”
“But neither he or I came here to make excuses or attempt to justify our failure. We came here to find you, Amma, and so did he.”
Did she try? Had she honestly been so desperate in her pleas for mutual understanding, to give the name that was not her name? For kinship, warmth, home? To simply have something in her life as her choice? The Trials were so, so distant from now, and yet so fairly similar, the circumstances were almost daunting in comparison. Deposited into the void, manipulated and assaulted, lain with scars and blood, and powerless to do anything about it. The scar fissured over her heart pulsated, as if newly made and aware of the crimson-shaded doubt that bubbled up in her throat, voice hoarse and dragged over shards of glass as Amma laughed.
“Or maybe you’d be dead, just like –”
Wait.
Her laughter warbled and fell, near hysterics and forlorn and daring, denying any truth or hope that might’ve dawned in her manic eyes that pierced deep into Aurora’s pleading, seeking stare.
“He? Who, Aurora? Who else came to this goddamn place? Who?!”
“Gil, Gil is here.”
Aurora paused, eyes going wide as the raven haired girl’s expression shifted - not to relief, as she had expected, but to something far more unsettling. Confusion knitted her brow, the embers of her fury still smoldering, yet no longer all-consuming. Doubt crept in at the edges, cracking through the hardened walls of her rage.
“Oh god,” The redhead murmured, realization dawning as the pieces fell into place. “Did you think he was-” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Amma had believed Gil was gone.
The weight of it pressed against Aurora’s ribs, stealing the air from her lungs, and she swallowed hard, her throat having gone dry.
“Gil is alive, Amma. He’s alive and he never stopped looking for you, he’s the reason we’re here.” She exhaled, her voice thick with emotion, and took another step closer. “Lorcán and I… we hoped we’d find you, but Gil?”
“He would have torn the world apart if it meant getting to you.”
“Gil is dead.” Amma snapped. “I knelt in his blood, I saw him-” She gasped, heaving, and drawing in rib-shattering gulps of air. She can’t breathe. A part of her denies the probability that he survived, a part of her can’t; a part of her doesn’t want to. She can’t rely on the lingering swell of hope that feathered through her heart and held it preciously in delicate hands. Her life was not meant for such promising rescues, none had ever done so before, so why now? To what end did Amma Cahors deserve such longing and grace?
“I saw him torn apart, I saw his clones shredded. You weren’t there. You didn’t see- no, but I felt it.” She lances her nails against her scar, pierces around puckered, reddened flesh, tears through the moth scoured and impaled over her heart, torn and defiled.
“I felt everything.”
It’s too good to be true, for this place, Ünterland as she knew it to be named now, was taking all that she yearned for and twisted, deformed, and manipulated it, just as her body had been for years. But what if he was alive? The entanglement of their sorrows bled through her fear and doubt and Amma held onto the kernel nestled betwixt her ribs. It split, cracked, as a singular, unnamed emotion that had long planted itself there under the moonlight shadows of their first night together. Here, it bloomed with that lingering connection forged at the dance, the merging of selves known as they once were, and could have been and maybe now as they could be if what Aurora said was true.
“If… If this is real. If you’re real. If he is alive.” Her voice cracked and strained. “Then why are you here alone?”
Aurora shook her head gently.
“He’s not dead Amma. I may not have been there then, but I promise you that he walked out of that dance alive.” She finally closed the distance between them, inches separating their pale faces and matching blue eyes. “I’ll spare you all the details but it’s because of him that we’re here - he sought out Alyssa who connected us with Ellara who brought us to Ünterland.” The redhead broke Amma’s gaze only to look to Cassius, who seemed to stiffen at the mention of the latter. “We’ve been on quite the journey but Gil has stopped at nothing to find you.”
Her expression fell at the raven haired girl’s following question, but Aurora didn’t hesitate to answer, not if it meant gaining her favor.
“When we emerged from Limbo, Gil wasn’t with us. Ellara believed he was pulled elsewhere, likely closer to where you were, so we continued on only to be ambushed in the forest. Lorcán and I got separated-” Sadness befell her delicate features before she inclined her head to the vampire standing nearby. “- and then Cassius found me. We had a bit of an interesting start but he eventually agreed to help me.”
Amma nodded slowly, carefully, digesting her words with an expression that bespoke of unraveling anguish and dissociation, pieces of her ragged soul crumbling into the void as she struggled to believe her. To look into those eyes that mirrored everything that she was not, pinpricks of warmth and devotion that eternally simmered there as a guiding light to better days. Aurora had the strength to love, such an intimacy that Amma only knew to be agonizing. She wondered if the look crossing over her features matched the dejected hopelessness Aurora had worn that day when she came to her in solitary…
So much had changed.
“Ellara… I know that name.” She uttered, “Kylmie said she might be able to help me get back. I was,” Amma paused considerably, for where did she begin. “I was stuck in Limbo for a long time. It felt like maybe hours, but apparently, it was weeks. Being hunted by something. And then I was brought here by the wolves when they found me coming over the cliffs…” How did she even begin to detail that Kylmie was her grandmother and the hidden truths of her mother even after such a confession? Amma’s eyes flitted towards Cassius, flickering down and then up in her deliberate study, committing his profile to her memory, and immediately shored up her guard at his peculiar presence, it was unsettling in such a way not unlike Dain’s influence.
“There’s also this… dragon. Dain thought,” Amma’s voice dragged over his name, his death also burned into her mind. His blood was now on her hands too. “That it followed me here. I’m beginning to think he was right.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. Amma had been in Limbo for weeks?
The redhead glanced down at her hand subtly, at the rune that marred her pale skin, stitched by thread and bone. Even with it protecting her during the passage through Limbo, the journey had still been a painful one, having felt as though invisible forces were attempting to pry her apart. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the thought of Amma enduring such agony without that same defense. It also meant that in the time since that fateful night at the dance, she had spent the majority of it alone. In pain. No one should have been subjected to such a fate, especially the raven haired girl in front of her who had already suffered enough. Aurora’s eyes began to water, but she willed herself to maintain her composure.
“If he’s right, and it’s you that the dragon is hunting, then we need to get out of here.” She averted her gaze and took in the destruction around them. “Ellara is the only one who can take us back, but I have no clue where she is.” She caught Cassius’ obsidian stare, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You failed to mention the Jäger, fair one.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly, “Quite an important detail to leave out.” Aurora glared at the vampire in response to his interjection, her sapphire eyes icy.
“Let me guess, she doesn’t like you either?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Amma idly watched Aurora’s exchange with Cassius, she reminded herself of his name, her arms subtly crossing at her chest, palms and nails perched on either bicep where she holds firm, reigning in her sense flung far and wide. She attempts to piece together the reality that maybe Gil was alive. But the flicker of hope sputtered as a rain drenched flame, the kindling of her earlier sorrows and wrath still pulsating against her ribs, the bones aching with every draw of her breath as she permitted her mind to wonder. It wasn’t a luxury she could much afford, but what could she do but cling to the fragment of possibility that all was not lost? It was a fickle, fleeting thing, barely felt and reminiscent of a child’s dream, a child Amma had long since lost in the darkest recesses of her pain.
“In Limbo, when I-” to admit that she crawled through filth struck at her pride and she mulled over her words. “Managed to get out, there was this light, I followed it out. Maybe…”
A rippling drum of thunder echoed through the clouds, another bout of rain looming in the distance as the storm doubled in its descent, red lightning striking off into the distance, followed by a faded screech of agony and rage.
“The dragon is still out there.” Amma turned at Kylmie’s approach, her serpentine companion gone as the rain resumed and fell, remnants of flame hissing in defiance of the deluge before snuffed out entirely. “And in this storm, you won’t get very far.”
Amma said nothing, her lashes fluttering at the water that clung to them, marking down her cheeks as her stare flickered back towards Aurora, and then Cassius before she regarded the clouds above and the slivers of crimson moonlight that fell.
“It’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
Having overheard some of their exchange, Kylmie began: “If Ellara is here, then she’ll find us before you can even begin to search for her. And if your other companions are out there…”
“I can only hope they’re safe, and that maybe they’ll find their way here, just as you have.” She gestured towards Aurora. “But even then, rest is what is needed. The dragon regains its strength, and so must we.”
The redhead stiffened at the audible rumble of the storm, but nodded in agreement with Kylmie’s recommendation, the moisture in her eyes returning at the mention of their friends. Her heart yearned for Lorcán, her home, but deep down she knew he’d find his way back to her, just as they promised each other they always would. Until then, she and Amma needed to be smart, conserve their energy, and bide their time. It was the only way they would have a chance at making it out of this plane alive.
“We’ll stay then, if you’ll have us.” Aurora replied, studying the older woman. “I’m sorry to impose, especially considering the circumstances.” Kylmie merely shook her head with a soft, maternal smile sliding through her features.
“No apologies needed, a friend of my…” She stalled, noting Amma’s sudden, piercing stare. “Well, a friend. Despite the company you keep.”
She gestured off-handedly back toward her hut, to which Amma had already turned and walked towards, her steps sluggish and hesitant, unsure as to why she had stopped Kylmie from revealing their familial connections, uncertain of the sharp, piercing pain that lanced through her chest as another clash of thunder drowned out her sudden gasps as she disappeared inside. Kylmie watched her go with a brief glimpse of her regret before one of the wolves approached her, soft growls announcing their arrival and with a glance towards Cassius, she too left, slipping away as the storm raged on.
Aurora hesitated, the rain growing heavier with each passing moment, before turning her head to look at Cassius who was scowling, no doubt as a result of Kylmie’s comment.
“Witches hold grudges, it seems.” She commented, starting to move in the direction of the hut, but paused when she realized that the vampire was not following. “Are you coming?” She asked over her shoulder, and in response he shook his head.
“No, I’m not.” Cassius tilted his head slightly, clearly listening to something she couldn’t hear, “I’ll keep watch.”
The redhead sighed, pushing back wet strands of hair from her face.
“Why? You think someone else is out here?” She asked, her tone skeptical but not dismissive. “Or rather, something else?” The vampire didn’t answer right away. His obsidian eyes flickered toward the trees, then to the darkened horizon beyond before settling back on her.
“I don’t trust them, and they don’t trust me. It’s better if I stay out here.” He answered before pointing his chin towards the hut, his gaze softening slightly for a moment. “Go, rest. You need it.”
She studied him a moment longer, debating if she should press further as to why there was such tension, but something in his posture, the way his shoulders were taut and his eyes distant, made her pause. She could sense the unease in the air, but she also knew when to give someone their space. With a resigned sigh, Aurora nodded, though the nagging feeling of not getting the full story lingered in the pit of her stomach.
“Alright. I’ll be inside if you need me.”
With that, she turned and made her way toward the hut, the heavy downpour masking the sound of her footsteps. Cassius remained where he stood, unmoving as the rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as thunder rolled in the distance.
Towering oaks swallowed what little crimson moonlight touched the earth, their twisted limbs knitting together to form a dense canopy above. Fog slithered between the trunks, curling around the forest floor as if it had a mind of its own. The further that the pair trekked, healthy trees turned singed, their branches kissed by flame, which evolved into fully obliterated trunks covered in ash and embers. The vampire could only shake his head in disbelief as they walked cautiously through the wood. Parts of the underbrush continued to burn and Aurora stomped out what she could, all while the bone-chilling screeches persisted, the cries of something monstrous and enraged only growing louder the deeper they went.
“This is wrong, very wrong,” Cassius breathed, “I’ve never seen destruction like this before.” His voice was quiet, but laced with unease and the redhead shot him a wary glance, her own pulse quickening. If even he was unsettled, then whatever had done this was beyond the ordinary. She began to ponder what could have caused such ruin, what kind of force could leave their surroundings in such a state, and as if answering her unspoken inquiry, a massive shadow passed overhead and blocked out the last remaining slivers of moonlight.
Aurora barely had time to register the shape before a powerful gust of wind hit her like a wall, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her companion didn’t hesitate, yanking her into the shadow of a nearby cluster of trees, pulling them both off the obvious path just as a stream of fire erupted from the beast’s maw, illuminating the sky above in a blinding burst of orange and gold.
“Is that a-” Aurora started, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she instinctively ducked, her voice barely audible over the roar of the creature above.
“Yes,” Cassius answered grimly, his grip on her arm tightening. He didn’t have to say it, he didn’t need to.
A dragon.
Its enormous wings sent down currents of searing air, the tattered membranes stretched wide, their ragged edges proof of a recent and vicious fight. The beast let out another bone-rattling screech, before flying higher into the sky and fleeing into the darkness, disappearing from view entirely. When it was quiet again, Aurora exhaled slowly, her muscles still tense and her thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and fear.
“Is that… normal around here?” She asked, silently hoping that this was a common occurrence in these parts. But she already knew the answer even before Cassius replied.
“No,” He stated, his gaze still fixed above them, eyes narrowed and watchful. “Certainly not.” His obsidian eyes met hers, “We need to keep moving before it returns.”
The redhead didn’t argue, vigorously nodding in agreement as they returned to the path, continuing onward and picking up the pace. Neither of them spoke again, the only sounds that filled the oppressive silence being the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath their boots and the distant crackle of burning trees, that is, until the beginnings of a storm began to snuff out the flames. Rain trickled in from the canopy above, dissipating the fog that hugged their ankles.
Not long after evading the beast, the trees began to thin and the path widened, the forest gradually giving way though devastation still lingered in the air, thick with smoke and the distant crackle of fire. Emerging from the treeline and still attempting to calm her racing heart, Aurora was met with complete and utter chaos unfolding before her eyes. In the clearing was a village in disarray, its inhabitants scrambling in the aftermath of what she could only assume was a direct result of the dragon. Many were wounded, their injuries visible and actively bleeding while others rushed to provide aid, doing what they could in their current circumstances, their voices urgent and strained.
There was so much to look at, but the redhead’s eye was inherently drawn to a line of demarcation embedded into the earth. On one side, the ground was scorched, and fire that hadn’t been extinguished burned in patches, casting eerie orange glows against the darkened sky. Deep gouges and craters marked where the beast’s claws had torn through the soil and pools of dark acidic blood festered. But on the other side… nothing. Almost as if there had been an invisible wall of protection thrown up around the village. Its huts made of stone remained completely intact, their exteriors covered in various white markings. Were these the witches that Cassius and Gideon had spoken of?
And then Aurora saw her.
There, standing amongst the wreckage, was her teammate. Amma’s usually bright blue eyes were dull with shock, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if attempting to shrink away, to disappear into the backdrop of ruin. Aurora took an instinctive step forward, the need to reach her outweighing every other thought in her mind.
“Not so fast, fair one,” Cassius must have spotted her as well, and fisted the fabric of the redhead’s cloak and pulled, effectively holding her back before she could make a break towards her friend. “Have you already forgotten what I said about them not liking trespassers?”
She had been so focused on Amma that she hadn’t even noticed the glares and stares, the countless eyes pinned on her every move, the coven having noticed the pair’s presence almost immediately upon intruding on their village. Her sapphire gaze flitted from person to person as they quickly became surrounded, hostility thickening the air around them. She swallowed uncomfortably.
“If you’re wise, you’ll let me do the talking,” He murmured to her under his breath, his grip on her cloak loosening slightly as he stepped forward, putting himself between her and the encroaching witches.
A vicious, rippling snarl immediately cleaves through the palpable sorrow of mourning, the storm has lessened in intensity, but rain continues to fall in a steady thrum as thunder distantly sounds, followed by coils of red-streaked lightning through clouds of black. Grief translated differently for each, but the wolves salivated on the tides of ruin and pain in the loss of their alpha, their master, their friend, Dain had led them for years, and his death was a quivering disruption to their conjoined souls, now threaded with death as the herald for their intertwined agony. Such a tragedy that quivered with each heaving growl as the wolves stalked closer, some wreathed in injury, and others not, pelts muddled with crimson splotches and streaks and fangs glistening in the severe draw of their trembling maws. Even some of the familiars, trilling beasts, and clamoring vipers, some Felidae creatures suddenly stalking from the shadows as if forged of it, crept closer at the trespassing vampyre and his… companion.
The witches intersect betwixt them, jewels twinkling with hidden light and silver accentuated through their raised palms, some beheld gold in their hands and then stopped, eyes shimmering with distrust and clamoring power. The battle lingered, heightening senses and emotions, the runes marked into their houses still aglow with spells awaiting to be uttered.
“You know you’re not welcome here,” one of the witches announces with finality. “Or did you follow that beast, and thought to try and finish us off?”
“You’ll find that we don’t easily surrender. Not anymore.”
Aurora tensed, every muscle in her body screaming at her to move, to act - but Cassius stood still as stone beside her, unreadable as ever. The witches’ words dripped with disgust and suspicion and the collective glare of those that surrounded them bored into the redhead’s soul. But it was the wolves, their snarls a haunting chorus, that sent a chill down her spine, setting the fine hairs on her arms on edge.
If Cassius said the wrong thing- if he so much as breathed the wrong way- this would turn into something they wouldn’t walk away from. The vampire, to his credit, seemed entirely unfazed. He lifted his hands in a slow, deliberate motion, daring to let his lips curl into a smirk, laced with something dangerous.
“Now, now. That was years ago. Surely we’re past that by now?” He mused, voice smooth as velvet. He took a casual step forward, his posture open, disarming- yet the air around him thickened, like a storm brewing just out of sight.
“I have no quarrel with you. I didn’t come here with fangs bared, and I certainly don’t take pleasure in this.” The statement was calm but edged with steel, and for a fleeting moment, his expression hardened, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. “We’re looking for someone. We have reason to believe she’s here amongst your coven.”
She. A mute exchange unraveled through each, emeralds and sapphires humming faintly, their jeweled conduits gradually dimming with the quiet revelation that slid through every flutter of lash and subtle nod of their heads. The tell-tale rumbling of the wolves also whispered through curious yips and trills, some of the Familiars shaking loose the tension that corded through enchanted, magically inclined muscle before parting at the quiet steps of their maven. Kylmie approached Cassius with eyes still curiously aglow with the shimmering, white light of the barrier she had invoked, but weariness listed through her features, contoured briefly with exhaustion and pain that ignited a tremor through her bones. Still, she stood before their once-upon-a-time foe, and with those piercing eyes, she regarded Aurora with a slight cant of her head. Hidden though by her cloak’s hood, Kylmie recognized that familiar thrum of a shredded essence on the slight girl, however, a coil of light, of purity and wholeness lingered there as a kernel of something unnamed but felt as warming tendrils of affection and hope. So frail, she mused, and with a shift to her right, she cut off Amma’s profile that gradually wavered in the distance, hissing tongues of flame accentuating her twisted features as another clash of thunder rolled through the remains of the Blackwood.
“Cassius,” Kylmie announced. “I won’t waste time with empty exchanges, the dragon will return and we hardly have the time to entertain you.” She carefully pushed wetted pieces of black from her face, a soft hiss punctuating her words whilst one of the vipers coiled up around her waist, resting a wide, horned head on her shoulder, eyes of vermillion fixated on Aurora with a thick, ebony tongue flickering in curious appraisal. “If the Jarl sent you, I’m afraid it’s on a failed quest. Even if someone had come to us, we’d never give them to you, or him.”
The vampire exhaled slowly through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching in restrained irritation, but he did not let his feelings show beyond that.
“Kylmie,” Cassius stated by way of an acknowledgment, and Aurora quickly gathered that the woman must have been high amongst their ranks. “I understand your mistrust,” He sympathized, his intonation steady, measured. “But I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Jarl. I have no interest in any affairs other than my own.” He broke Kylmie’s gaze to glance at the storm-ravaged sky. “Whatever grievances you still hold against me, I doubt the dragon will care for your grudges when it strikes again. So just-”
“She’s my friend.”
Aurora stepped forward despite her companion’s earlier words of warning, straightening and holding her ground against those that surrounded them. She could instantly feel his patience wane as a direct result of her going against his wishes. She pulled back her hood just enough to reveal more of her soft features and copper hair, the strands curling at the ends as the rain continued to fall.
“She’s here, I saw her.” She pressed, her sapphire eyes flicking past Kylmie’s shoulder and the snake that was now perched there which made her heartbeat quicken. “Please, I just want to bring her back.” She expressed, softer now, but no less resolute.
Kylmie’s eyes softened, albeit briefly and hesitantly, still her countenance waned at the reveal of Aurora all the same with her copper hair and bright eyes shaded by the crimson light of the moon spearing through the clouded sky. The viper lifted from her shoulder and exchanged a glance with her, a method of communication with a sentient creature that flitted over the threshold of bestial aggression. Intelligence simmered there in those resplendent eyes, shimmering a myriad of colors reminiscent of precious gems before it coiled across her nape and rested over her opposite shoulder, dismissing Aurora and Cassius entirely.
Quietly, she leaned close, bent slightly at the waist to scrutinize the breadth of Aurora’s sorrows, quaint and minute, but impacted by loss all the more with her pleading words.
“What is your name?”
Silence stretched between them, Aurora’s gaze stuck on the reptile whose beady eyes seemingly gathered unspoken judgement. Cassius nudged her, a little too forcefully, and the girl looked to her companion and his darkened gaze. He shook his head subtly, imparting another warning upon the redhead to not reveal herself, but the girl did not heed it. They had come this far, she was right there, and this opportunity would not pass her by.
“Aurora,” Her voice was level despite the weight of so many eyes upon her. “My name is Aurora.”
There was a brief flicker, subtle, barely-there, just a flashing glimmer of recognition as soon as she spoke her name aloud and Kylmie took a delicate step back, her palms suddenly wed together, clutching her fingers into an interlocked web of trepidation. She had heard her name before, uttered painfully by the girl she undoubtedly was seeking. But to what end, she contemplated and silently stepped aside to reveal Amma who shook with a powerful tremor, as if an unspooled connection of her shattered being that became suddenly aware that she was not so alone. Her arms dropped from where they had woven around her middle and she made careful steps forward, eyes peeled wide as Kylmie gestured for the remainders of her coven to make space for this reunion. Shock rolled through her, swallowed immediately by an unknown emotion that simmered beside a rage; a sweltering wrath of something eclipsed by the finite wells of pain that only this realm could bring. She met Aurora’s eyes and within, she snapped.
“Aurora?” She hissed around that name, and let it curl over her tongue awash in unbridled disbelief and agony. The last she had seen her… No, she hadn’t been there. Right? The dance. They vanished. They left.
Left them to nothing- behind, while the beast tore them apart. Or, had she done that? Where was the demarcation of the true beast conceptualized from the shadows that threatened to pull her beyond the depths of the void? How did she even know if this was real? Thus far this world had revealed nothing but misery and lies, and in the aftermath of the dragon, who was to say this was not another ploy to tear asunder the depths of heart? Her hollow eyes narrowed, devoid of their crystalline shine, and remained as deadened slivers of sudden mistrust.
“Or is this another trap? Maybe I’m dreaming, again. Maybe the dragon did kill us; stuck in an endless loop of this… place.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat, air stolen from her lungs as Amma’s words met her ears, raw and frayed at the edges. There was no warmth to the raven haired girl’s voice - there never had been as long as she’d known her - but this felt different, colder, if that was even possible. She looked wrecked, her usually striking features hollowed by grief, by skepticism, by something dangerously close to despair. Her eyes, the mirror to her own, felt unfamiliar, lacking their normal sharpness. The redhead had never seen her in such a state so…
Broken.
Cautiously, she moved towards her, but again, Cassius attempted to intervene. He placed a strong hand on Aurora’s shoulder, leaning in close to her cheek and whispering in her ear.
"It’s possible she’s not the same girl you once knew."
"Amma," She shrugged off the vampire’s grip and took another step towards her. Her tone was gentle, as if speaking too loudly might cause her friend to crumble entirely. “This isn’t a trap or a dream. I’m real, I’m here.” In one fluid motion she removed the hood of her cape and let it fall to her back, fully putting herself on display to help discern reality from dream. Taking a deep breath, she chose to use the name the girl had revealed that fateful night, the one she’d held close to her chest since then.
“Ammaranthe.”
The name hung between them, thick with meaning, with memory. It was a tether, fragile and tenuous, but a tether all the same.
“Don’t-” she hissed, fingers splayed, cracking, palms once bidden and assaulted by coils of red now devoid of their manifest, the once tangible threads of the world succumbed to her rage forsaken as her hands shook with such a tremor that her arms trembled. A name that was not her name, that withheld all the power in the world, her world, now shaded in red. Her muscles bunched and grew rigid, every line in Amma’s body shored up and taut, shoulders drawn out and in as she approached Aurora on that fateful calling. It whispered betwixt them over, and over, and over again, echoing off the voided space of her ribs where the dredges of darkness lingered eternally, ragged and decrepit, no longer omnipotent.
“You might be here now... But you weren’t there.” Why did it enrage her so? It felt wrong, soiled, undeserving even, but her designation lanced deep, planted itself there, and writhed in remembrance of the one who had found her name hidden in the depths of her despair. Written in scarlet whorls of destruction to shatter against her ailed soul, the memories that still sluiced through her mind hazed out in monochromatic shadows possessed of blue eyes and the spindle of red she had given her once, another life she had saved.
“I did not give that name to you.”
Aurora tensed, but did not yield nor falter. No, she lifted her chin intentionally as Amma lashed out, each word ammunition, each syllable honed to wound, yet they did not deter her.
“But you did give me your name - at least you tried to. During the trial before you were dragged into the void.”
"Tell everyone - I'm --!"
“Maybe it wasn’t intentional. You probably didn’t even want to. But perhaps you needed to, and I’ve held onto that since.” She revealed, “It was only after the dance that I finally learned what you were hoping to say.” Aurora could see Cassius out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head in disagreement, but he didn’t understand. There was a raw, visceral pull in her chest, an undeniable certainty that she had to reach Amma - had to break through the fury and grief curling off of her in waves.
“I know I wasn’t there, that we weren’t there. If we had been, things would have been very different, and I’m so, so sorry for that,” The redhead replied, taking another step towards the girl, attempting to close the distance just a bit more. “I’ve carried that guilt with me and will continue to for a long time. Lorcán as well.”
“But neither he or I came here to make excuses or attempt to justify our failure. We came here to find you, Amma, and so did he.”
Did she try? Had she honestly been so desperate in her pleas for mutual understanding, to give the name that was not her name? For kinship, warmth, home? To simply have something in her life as her choice? The Trials were so, so distant from now, and yet so fairly similar, the circumstances were almost daunting in comparison. Deposited into the void, manipulated and assaulted, lain with scars and blood, and powerless to do anything about it. The scar fissured over her heart pulsated, as if newly made and aware of the crimson-shaded doubt that bubbled up in her throat, voice hoarse and dragged over shards of glass as Amma laughed.
“Or maybe you’d be dead, just like –”
Wait.
Her laughter warbled and fell, near hysterics and forlorn and daring, denying any truth or hope that might’ve dawned in her manic eyes that pierced deep into Aurora’s pleading, seeking stare.
“He? Who, Aurora? Who else came to this goddamn place? Who?!”
“Gil, Gil is here.”
Aurora paused, eyes going wide as the raven haired girl’s expression shifted - not to relief, as she had expected, but to something far more unsettling. Confusion knitted her brow, the embers of her fury still smoldering, yet no longer all-consuming. Doubt crept in at the edges, cracking through the hardened walls of her rage.
“Oh god,” The redhead murmured, realization dawning as the pieces fell into place. “Did you think he was-” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Amma had believed Gil was gone.
The weight of it pressed against Aurora’s ribs, stealing the air from her lungs, and she swallowed hard, her throat having gone dry.
“Gil is alive, Amma. He’s alive and he never stopped looking for you, he’s the reason we’re here.” She exhaled, her voice thick with emotion, and took another step closer. “Lorcán and I… we hoped we’d find you, but Gil?”
“He would have torn the world apart if it meant getting to you.”
“Gil is dead.” Amma snapped. “I knelt in his blood, I saw him-” She gasped, heaving, and drawing in rib-shattering gulps of air. She can’t breathe. A part of her denies the probability that he survived, a part of her can’t; a part of her doesn’t want to. She can’t rely on the lingering swell of hope that feathered through her heart and held it preciously in delicate hands. Her life was not meant for such promising rescues, none had ever done so before, so why now? To what end did Amma Cahors deserve such longing and grace?
“I saw him torn apart, I saw his clones shredded. You weren’t there. You didn’t see- no, but I felt it.” She lances her nails against her scar, pierces around puckered, reddened flesh, tears through the moth scoured and impaled over her heart, torn and defiled.
“I felt everything.”
It’s too good to be true, for this place, Ünterland as she knew it to be named now, was taking all that she yearned for and twisted, deformed, and manipulated it, just as her body had been for years. But what if he was alive? The entanglement of their sorrows bled through her fear and doubt and Amma held onto the kernel nestled betwixt her ribs. It split, cracked, as a singular, unnamed emotion that had long planted itself there under the moonlight shadows of their first night together. Here, it bloomed with that lingering connection forged at the dance, the merging of selves known as they once were, and could have been and maybe now as they could be if what Aurora said was true.
“If… If this is real. If you’re real. If he is alive.” Her voice cracked and strained. “Then why are you here alone?”
Aurora shook her head gently.
“He’s not dead Amma. I may not have been there then, but I promise you that he walked out of that dance alive.” She finally closed the distance between them, inches separating their pale faces and matching blue eyes. “I’ll spare you all the details but it’s because of him that we’re here - he sought out Alyssa who connected us with Ellara who brought us to Ünterland.” The redhead broke Amma’s gaze only to look to Cassius, who seemed to stiffen at the mention of the latter. “We’ve been on quite the journey but Gil has stopped at nothing to find you.”
Her expression fell at the raven haired girl’s following question, but Aurora didn’t hesitate to answer, not if it meant gaining her favor.
“When we emerged from Limbo, Gil wasn’t with us. Ellara believed he was pulled elsewhere, likely closer to where you were, so we continued on only to be ambushed in the forest. Lorcán and I got separated-” Sadness befell her delicate features before she inclined her head to the vampire standing nearby. “- and then Cassius found me. We had a bit of an interesting start but he eventually agreed to help me.”
Amma nodded slowly, carefully, digesting her words with an expression that bespoke of unraveling anguish and dissociation, pieces of her ragged soul crumbling into the void as she struggled to believe her. To look into those eyes that mirrored everything that she was not, pinpricks of warmth and devotion that eternally simmered there as a guiding light to better days. Aurora had the strength to love, such an intimacy that Amma only knew to be agonizing. She wondered if the look crossing over her features matched the dejected hopelessness Aurora had worn that day when she came to her in solitary…
So much had changed.
“Ellara… I know that name.” She uttered, “Kylmie said she might be able to help me get back. I was,” Amma paused considerably, for where did she begin. “I was stuck in Limbo for a long time. It felt like maybe hours, but apparently, it was weeks. Being hunted by something. And then I was brought here by the wolves when they found me coming over the cliffs…” How did she even begin to detail that Kylmie was her grandmother and the hidden truths of her mother even after such a confession? Amma’s eyes flitted towards Cassius, flickering down and then up in her deliberate study, committing his profile to her memory, and immediately shored up her guard at his peculiar presence, it was unsettling in such a way not unlike Dain’s influence.
“There’s also this… dragon. Dain thought,” Amma’s voice dragged over his name, his death also burned into her mind. His blood was now on her hands too. “That it followed me here. I’m beginning to think he was right.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. Amma had been in Limbo for weeks?
The redhead glanced down at her hand subtly, at the rune that marred her pale skin, stitched by thread and bone. Even with it protecting her during the passage through Limbo, the journey had still been a painful one, having felt as though invisible forces were attempting to pry her apart. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the thought of Amma enduring such agony without that same defense. It also meant that in the time since that fateful night at the dance, she had spent the majority of it alone. In pain. No one should have been subjected to such a fate, especially the raven haired girl in front of her who had already suffered enough. Aurora’s eyes began to water, but she willed herself to maintain her composure.
“If he’s right, and it’s you that the dragon is hunting, then we need to get out of here.” She averted her gaze and took in the destruction around them. “Ellara is the only one who can take us back, but I have no clue where she is.” She caught Cassius’ obsidian stare, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“You failed to mention the Jäger, fair one.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly, “Quite an important detail to leave out.” Aurora glared at the vampire in response to his interjection, her sapphire eyes icy.
“Let me guess, she doesn’t like you either?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Amma idly watched Aurora’s exchange with Cassius, she reminded herself of his name, her arms subtly crossing at her chest, palms and nails perched on either bicep where she holds firm, reigning in her sense flung far and wide. She attempts to piece together the reality that maybe Gil was alive. But the flicker of hope sputtered as a rain drenched flame, the kindling of her earlier sorrows and wrath still pulsating against her ribs, the bones aching with every draw of her breath as she permitted her mind to wonder. It wasn’t a luxury she could much afford, but what could she do but cling to the fragment of possibility that all was not lost? It was a fickle, fleeting thing, barely felt and reminiscent of a child’s dream, a child Amma had long since lost in the darkest recesses of her pain.
“In Limbo, when I-” to admit that she crawled through filth struck at her pride and she mulled over her words. “Managed to get out, there was this light, I followed it out. Maybe…”
A rippling drum of thunder echoed through the clouds, another bout of rain looming in the distance as the storm doubled in its descent, red lightning striking off into the distance, followed by a faded screech of agony and rage.
“The dragon is still out there.” Amma turned at Kylmie’s approach, her serpentine companion gone as the rain resumed and fell, remnants of flame hissing in defiance of the deluge before snuffed out entirely. “And in this storm, you won’t get very far.”
Amma said nothing, her lashes fluttering at the water that clung to them, marking down her cheeks as her stare flickered back towards Aurora, and then Cassius before she regarded the clouds above and the slivers of crimson moonlight that fell.
“It’ll come back.”
“Yes.”
Having overheard some of their exchange, Kylmie began: “If Ellara is here, then she’ll find us before you can even begin to search for her. And if your other companions are out there…”
“I can only hope they’re safe, and that maybe they’ll find their way here, just as you have.” She gestured towards Aurora. “But even then, rest is what is needed. The dragon regains its strength, and so must we.”
The redhead stiffened at the audible rumble of the storm, but nodded in agreement with Kylmie’s recommendation, the moisture in her eyes returning at the mention of their friends. Her heart yearned for Lorcán, her home, but deep down she knew he’d find his way back to her, just as they promised each other they always would. Until then, she and Amma needed to be smart, conserve their energy, and bide their time. It was the only way they would have a chance at making it out of this plane alive.
“We’ll stay then, if you’ll have us.” Aurora replied, studying the older woman. “I’m sorry to impose, especially considering the circumstances.” Kylmie merely shook her head with a soft, maternal smile sliding through her features.
“No apologies needed, a friend of my…” She stalled, noting Amma’s sudden, piercing stare. “Well, a friend. Despite the company you keep.”
She gestured off-handedly back toward her hut, to which Amma had already turned and walked towards, her steps sluggish and hesitant, unsure as to why she had stopped Kylmie from revealing their familial connections, uncertain of the sharp, piercing pain that lanced through her chest as another clash of thunder drowned out her sudden gasps as she disappeared inside. Kylmie watched her go with a brief glimpse of her regret before one of the wolves approached her, soft growls announcing their arrival and with a glance towards Cassius, she too left, slipping away as the storm raged on.
Aurora hesitated, the rain growing heavier with each passing moment, before turning her head to look at Cassius who was scowling, no doubt as a result of Kylmie’s comment.
“Witches hold grudges, it seems.” She commented, starting to move in the direction of the hut, but paused when she realized that the vampire was not following. “Are you coming?” She asked over her shoulder, and in response he shook his head.
“No, I’m not.” Cassius tilted his head slightly, clearly listening to something she couldn’t hear, “I’ll keep watch.”
The redhead sighed, pushing back wet strands of hair from her face.
“Why? You think someone else is out here?” She asked, her tone skeptical but not dismissive. “Or rather, something else?” The vampire didn’t answer right away. His obsidian eyes flickered toward the trees, then to the darkened horizon beyond before settling back on her.
“I don’t trust them, and they don’t trust me. It’s better if I stay out here.” He answered before pointing his chin towards the hut, his gaze softening slightly for a moment. “Go, rest. You need it.”
She studied him a moment longer, debating if she should press further as to why there was such tension, but something in his posture, the way his shoulders were taut and his eyes distant, made her pause. She could sense the unease in the air, but she also knew when to give someone their space. With a resigned sigh, Aurora nodded, though the nagging feeling of not getting the full story lingered in the pit of her stomach.
“Alright. I’ll be inside if you need me.”
With that, she turned and made her way toward the hut, the heavy downpour masking the sound of her footsteps. Cassius remained where he stood, unmoving as the rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as thunder rolled in the distance.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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Timestamp: 7:45am
Location: Oceana House
Introducing: Morgan Simmons, Doug Gillespie, and Kori Runnels
@BrutalBx & @Melissa
Location: Oceana House
Introducing: Morgan Simmons, Doug Gillespie, and Kori Runnels
@BrutalBx & @Melissa
This was not how things were supposed to go.
No, waking up with a pounding headache and nausea that came in tidal waves on her very first day of work was not how Morgan Simmons intended to start off this adventure. In fact, she was almost certain that this was the exact opposite of making a good first impression. But then again, it wasn’t her fault that Calico Jack’s version of a Vodka Cranberry was a cup of liquor with a few drops of juice. Was it even possible for a bar to sustain itself off of pours like that?
She squeezed her eyes shut to combat the intruding sunlight, and when she rolled over to avoid it further, she found herself pressed up against something solid. No - someone.
Oh no.
It all came rushing back.
Karaoke. Shots. Laughter. His hand on the small of her back as they leaned into each other at the bar. The way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. A whispered suggestion. A shared cab ride back to the house. And then…
As the scent of cologne mixed with whiskey and something distinctly male filled her senses, she warily peeled her eyes open and took in the broad chest in front of her. It rose and fell in steady, peaceful breaths, the kind that suggested no existential crises or creeping regrets lurking beneath the surface. Very much unlike her at that moment.
The brunette stifled a groan and propped herself up on her elbow, the throbbing in her head punishing her for the movement. Her gaze trailed upward to a strong jawline dusted with the beginnings of morning stubble, lips slightly parted, and thick lashes fanned across his cheekbones.
Unfortunately, he was gorgeous.
Even more unfortunately, she had absolutely no recollection of his name.
She closed her eyes again, sifting through the fog of last night’s events and recalling the thick accent that had curled around her with such ease. He had been smooth, confident - dangerously charming. The kind of charm that really should have come with a warning label. Was it something with a D? Danny? Darren?
God, she was screwed.
Maybe she could just… slip out before he woke up and pretend this never happened. A first-day disaster narrowly avoided. Morgan swallowed hard and carefully untangled herself from the sheets, moving inch by painstaking inch toward the edge of the bed. One foot touched the cool hardwood, then the other, the girl holding her breath as she attempted her escape.
“I’m pretty confident this is your room, so I think it’s me that should be making that daring escape, petal.”
Dougie Gillespie sat up swiftly like a monster from a horror movie, albeit a beautiful one. He pressed a palm to each of his pale blue eyes to hide from the morning lights glare of judgement. This wouldn't be his first or his last hangover, the guys and gals in his band back in Tyneside, No Future, they knew how to party but the crew he was with last night, God Almighty in heaven above, they went fucking hard.
Moving his hands away from his face and resting them down to lean against, Doug looked at the girl that had tried to Steve McQueen out of the room which he was pretty sure was hers anyway. As soon as he caught a side glance from her deep chestnut gaze, he was instantly transported to the previous evening.
After sinking a few pints (American ones, so they weren’t the proper job but they would do) and a decent amount of Scottish whiskey, Calico Jack had convinced Doug to get up and sing. He wasn’t against singing in public but after a skinful of booze, he didn’t want to tarnish his reputation. Still, the man’s moustache was hypnotic and even Dougie couldn’t say no. When he got up and began to work the room, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by the stare of a brunette. The way she was looking at him, it was like she was the only person in the audience.
“I imagine you’re pretty freaked out right now? Don’t be.” The Geordie boy climbed out of the bed on his side, slipping perfectly into the waiting crumpled jeans on the floor. “This doesn’t have to be anything you don’t need or want it to be.”
Morgan froze, her pulse pounding in her ears almost as loudly as her headache. He was entirely too smooth for someone who had just woken up, and she couldn’t decide if that was a relief or an additional layer of mortification. The worst part? He was right. Her gaze darted to the corner where her barely unpacked suitcases sat neatly, an undeniable reminder that this was, indeed, her room.
She turned slowly, hugging the sheet to her chest like some flimsy shield against the reality of the situation.
“I’m not… freaked out,” She answered, her voice raspier than she would have liked. She watched him as he pulled on his jeans, the muscles in his back flexing as he stretched. He really was unfairly attractive. If only she could remember his name.
Realizing a little too late that she was barely clothed herself, her brown eyes searched the vicinity for something else to cover her body with other than the thin fabric between her fingers. Thankfully, a flash of burnt orange came into view and she quickly reached for the University of Texas shirt poking out of her suitcase, practically yanking it over her head. “You say that as if this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Well…it’s not.” Dougie did the utmost he possibly could to remember all the respect that his Nan taught him to have for a woman, especially those that were feeling particularly vulnerable but damn, it was hard not to allow eyes to wander when they were looking upon something as beautiful as the girl now wrapped up in a college shirt. “Based on what I do remember from last night, not yours either.”
He narrowly avoided some other garments that had scarred across the floor to make his way to his shirt which hung over a lampshade. As he began to dress himself, the mountaineer once again looked at his previous evening's dance partner. “I’m pretty sure this was Diego’s room last year. He was a fun guy, awful bloody hair though.” He spoke quite nonchalantly before turning his large frame around and facing the pretty southern girl with folded arms. “This your first season?”
Fort Lauderdale was a Mecca for anyone in the travel industry. Cabin crew for planes, yachtees working on boats, those like the CAP enlistees, everyone congregated here. After a while it became easy to recognise those that had served their time and those that were fresh greenhorns looking for a slice of adventure. Doug himself had only done one season with CAP but it was one of the funnest and most exhilarating times in his life. He couldn’t help but openly ponder if this girl was in the same boat as he once was.
Heat crept up Morgan’s neck, his comment sending her back to hours earlier - the haze of alcohol, fragments of flirtatious banter, his touch against her skin. She remembered the chemistry between them, undeniable and magnetic, but somewhere along the way the lines had blurred and she’d completely forgotten about the implications. She hadn’t been thinking straight, hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had, but there they were.
“You’ve got me there,” Exhaling, she ran a hand through her chocolate colored hair, touseling it almost in silent hope that it might lessen her headache or bring forth the key detail she was missing from the night prior. Dean? Derek? She found herself practically going through the letters of the alphabet as she not-so subtly watched him get dressed while his back was turned.
“Yeah, first season,” And starting out quite interestingly, she wanted to add, but she bit her lip to avoid finishing her train of thought. The job at CAP was a stepping stone for Morgan, she was here because it would afford her the opportunity to set off on her own journey one day, and her grand plan included the freedom she craved. But now, facing this stranger who seemed to be remarkably comfortable in the aftermath of their chaotic night, Morgan wasn’t sure she’d prepared adequately for this side of the gig. “I take it you’re not new around here?”
“Nah.” Dougie shook his head. “This is my second tour.” He answered. “Lot of new faces floating around Calico Jack’s last night, yours included. Never forget a face, me; yours included, again.” He tilted his head, breathing in her stare and analysing the look upon her visage. It didn’t take a body language expert to see how uncomfortable she was feeling. “By that way you're staring at me, as much as I would like to think it’s because I’m a gorgeous piece of steak, I imagine it’s more likely that you're trying to place me, remember my name?”
At least in his mind if Doug addressed the girl playfully, it might put her at ease. Their current situation could be addressed in various ways, not all positive and he didn’t want the poor thing to stress herself at something as natural as hooking up at a bar. “It’s Doug, by the way, most call me Dougie.” The boy offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. “Why don’t I go to the bathroom, let you get dressed? It’s early still, we don’t have a roll call for another hour.” His grin was boyish, effortless. “We could go get breakfast and talk about supper last night.”
Morgan opened her mouth, ready to salvage whatever scraps of dignity she had left, but no words came. Instead, she promptly shut it again, a pinkish hue gracing her fair cheeks. Doug, that was his name. At least she’d been on the money with the first letter. The memory finally surfaced of him approaching her at the bar and introducing himself after his performance, accent and all that made her nearly swoon. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been in a situation like this before- because she had on more than a few occasions- but waking up next to someone she was supposed to be working with? That was a whole new level of ‘what the hell have I done’.
“Look Dougie,” She emphasized his name but her voice came out softer than intended, her throat dry. She swallowed and pushed forward, offering the blonde a small, sheepish smile. “Last night was fun, believe me, I had a really great time with you,” Dougie, of course, only looked more amused. His smile was easy, like he had all the time in the world to let her flounder through this awkward speech.
Why did he have to be so attractive? And charming - suggesting breakfast like this was no more than a rom-com. He was making this exceptionally difficult.
“But we both know this is… probably not the best idea.” She gestured vaguely between them, hoping he’d take the hint without making her say it outright.
“Alas, my poor heart.” Doug feigned heartbreak with a dramatic clutch of his chest. He almost dropped to one knee but even he thought that maybe that move was a bit too much. He straightened himself up and the damndest smile returned to his handsome face. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to make your first day even more awkward.”
In hindsight, Doug really should’ve thought about what he was doing the previous night. He knew how wild the orientation party at Jack’s could get, he suffered for it the previous year when he woke up naked on the roof of Oceana house except for a traffic cone he wore as a hat. This girl, Morgan, was out there, trying something special, exciting and he may have helped her do something she regretted, or at the very least didn’t want to do straight away. Dougie, as a rule, tried not to have any regrets, tried not to overthink things but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t stop others from doing as such.
“We had fun, it was a good night, let’s just leave it there and get on with having a great season. You’re gonna love this, Morgan.” He winked at the girl knowingly, a little soft jab for not remembering his name. “Let me just wash my face and I’ll get out of your hair.” Doug already knew where the bathroom was and made his way inside to tidy himself up before the assembly.
Morgan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding as the blonde disappeared into the bathroom. She hadn't expected him to be so... cool about this. No awkward insistence, no attempts to change her mind. Just an easy smile and a wink that made her stomach twist and body warm in ways she didn’t even want to acknowledge.
Oh, she was so screwed.
“Get it together, Simmons,” The brunette muttered under her breath as she rubbed her temples, the remnants of last night’s drinks still humming at the edges of her mind. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in something complicated before the season even started. She was here to work, after all, it was part of her job to be professional, and what had transpired between her and Dougie last night was anything but.
Hopefully, everything only went up from here.
Korinna took her job as serious as a heart attack, she had to. CAP was her parents' baby, their beloved. It was something that she knew, no matter how many times he denied it, that her father used to remember her late mother. Kori felt the all too familiar pang of a daughter's guilt in her heart; as time passed, the memory of her mother continued to slip away with the passage of her aging. If not for pictures, she would have forgotten her face by now. If not for videos, she would have forgotten her voice. The curly haired woman hated every iota of that with a passion. She didn’t want to forget the woman that gave her life.
The accusation of nepotism was not lost on Kori, she knew what people thought when they saw her. Yet this industry, it was in her blood. From her parents to her grandfather, her love for the islands and nature herself; she cared so deeply that the iron brand of Nepo-baby she wore, she wore it proudly. Kori lived for this and she worked hard for this and she would be damned to the depths if she let anyone mess it up for her, or her family.
Which was the main reason she asked to room with Morgan Simmons. She told her Dad not to hire the girl, nothing on her application screamed Corsair. Yet for all his faults, her dad was nostalgic and seeing that the Simmons girl was from the same area he was born and raised, pulled on his heartstrings. Then the previous evening, she watched the girl kick the hornets nest, shake up the status quo and stand out in a crowd, craving attention. Kori knew she would need to keep an eye on this one, straighten her out if she needed to, no one was going to jeopardise everything her father had built.
She opened the door to the room, greeted by the sight of Morgan in nothing but a t-shirt and a distinct smell of something she knew but could not place. “Really? You’re just getting up now?” Kori wheeled her suitcase into the dorm and parked it next to the writing desk. “We’ve got to be downstairs in like an hour. Have you even bothered to press your uniform yet?”
“Oh my god,” Morgan’s eyes went wide as the door swung open and she was immediately faced with the sharp, scrutinizing gaze of the captain’s daughter. She’d only learned last night that this was very much a family business, and if there was one thing that was immediately clear, it was that Kori took that fact incredibly seriously.
She moved like a storm front rolling in, her dark curls bouncing with the force of her entrance. There was no hesitation, no pause - just pure, unshaken authority as she strode inside. One could just feel the judgment radiating off of Kori, the kind of intensity that suggested she had impossibly high standards and no patience for anyone who didn’t meet them. And now, here she was, standing in the middle of the room like a drill sergeant who’d just laid eyes on the weakest link.
“Have you heard of this thing called knocking?” The brunette scrambled immediately, throwing open her bag and grabbing the first pair of pants she could find, nearly tripping over herself as she yanked them on. She was caught somewhere between last night’s decisions and the creeping reality of the morning, her brain still playing catch-up.
Which was probably why it took her a second to register the suitcase Kori had wheeled in behind her.
“Please tell me that’s not yours.”
“No, it’s Lance’s.” Kori couldn’t help but roll her dark eyes at the newcomers' stupidity or naivety, she wasn’t sure which more accurately portrayed Morgan yet. “Of course it’s mine, didn’t you read the CAP App? I mean you must’ve since you found your way here last night.” The Captain’s daughter was not against a good time by any means, if you asked some of the old hands of the crew they’d tell you that Korinna could be as wild as the best of them but she never made a show of herself and she always put the job first.
Kori liked to think she was a good judge of character and she was sure as soon as she saw Morgan that she was hiding something. Something was just a little off about the girl and she couldn’t figure it out yet, but she would. Korinna always got the job done. That was why she asked for this room assignment. She wasn’t going to let this be a puzzle left unsolved.
“Your uniform should already be hanging up in the closet. Skort and polo. That’s what we wear unless you are on adventure. Chop chop.” Kori did not have time to play around with Morgan and watch her squirm, as satisfying as she might find it; the Captain, Dad, was waiting. She took off her own shirt without provocation and made her way to the closet, opening up to look at the multitude of uniforms already there. “Larger set is mine, obviously.” Morgan was skinnier and looked to be a bit smaller than Kori; she actually looked amazing. What a bitch.
She was rooming with Kori?
Morgan’s stomach dropped. She clearly hadn’t read the app closely enough, or she had and simply chose to ignore it. Of all the people she could’ve been stuck with for the season, it had to be her. The captain’s daughter. The human embodiment of a performance review. She could feel Kori’s eyes dissecting her every move, and it made her skin prickle with irritation.
“Skort?” She echoed, wrinkling her nose as she turned toward the closet. Sure enough, there it was- a neatly pressed uniform, a skort and top. It looked deceptively innocent, like it wasn’t about to become the bane of her existence.
Fucking hell.
And as Kori made herself right at home and began to change, Morgan came to the incredibly unfortunate realization that Dougie hadn’t left yet. He was still here.
Of course, somehow it gets worse!
She needed to get Kori out of here - just for a few minutes - long enough to deal with the blonde boy in the bathroom who was completely unaware that she had barged in like she owned the place. Because she did own the place. Morgan couldn’t let Kori see him - no way in hell was she giving her more ammunition to doubt her judgement - so she needed to come up with something, and fast.
“Say, Kori, you wouldn’t mind just giving me a little bit of time to freshen up? Alone?” Morgan forced a tight-lipped smile, tilting her head just enough to feign innocence, layering on her best southern charm. “You know, shake off the morning fog, get myself looking presentable. First impressions and all.”
Kori narrowed her eyes slightly. The soft southern belle wouldn’t work on her, not by a long shot. She had tried and failed to master it herself, too much of her mother in her, she always thought. The cowgirl roots weren’t overly strong in her, in spite of her father’s family. Morgan was just lucky that Kori needed to freshen her make up. At all hazards, one must keep up appearances; Grandma Martha taught her that and she was the most glamorous rancher's wife in all of Texas.
“That’s fine.” Korinna spoke rather bluntly as she began to rummage through a small black bag she had removed from her case in search of some lipstick. Maybe she was being too hard on the brunette? Maybe Morgan needed to be given more of a chance? After all, they were going to be rooming together all season and this would likely be Kori’s last. She didn’t want to make it a miserable one. “You know, my Dad doesn’t tend to waffle for too long, he’s not a talker. Maybe once he’s done, you and I can head to Eden, get some breakfast and..”
She was interrupted by the sudden opening of the bathroom door. “DOUGIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“I was gonna climb out of the window…but there’s no window.” Doug confidently strode out of the wash room with that damn grin across his face. “Lovely to see you Kori, hair looks lush, lot of volume and hey, did you gain an ab?” He turned to look at Morgan. If telepathy was a thing, he would be trying to tell her that he was attempting to create a distraction so that she didn’t worry but something told him that he didn’t possess that particular superpower. “We roomed together last year. She’s a snorer, she loves the weed, loves all animals and Buffy the Vampire Slayer but I mean, same, Sarah Michelle Gellar is lush.”
Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply, attempting to remain composed even as disaster unfolded before her. Just when she thought she had the chance to get out of this situation unscathed, her golden opportunity gloriously backfired. The brunette exhaled slowly, eyes darting from Dougie back to Kori, already bracing for whatever fresh judgment was coming her way from the latter of the pair. She doubted that her breakfast invitation would still stand after this.
“Solid attempt, but not helping, Dougie.” The brunette muttered, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest as if that could shield her from the absolute trainwreck of a morning she was having. Next time she went to Calico Jack’s - if there was a next time - she was sticking to water. Ice cold, non-alcoholic, water. Her gaze pinned on Kori, who looked about five seconds away from writing up a full report on her moral failings and leaving it on the captain’s desk for him to peruse at his leisure.
“All I’m saying is that if you had knocked, we could have avoided this entirely.”
“Why would I knock when it’s my room?” Kori said in retort. “It’s not my fault you didn’t read the app and it isn’t my fault you brought a stray dog home with you last night…no offence Dougie…no actually yes some offence intended. You’re an asshole. What are you still doing here? Go get ready!”
Doug learned much after his first season last year, one such thing he learned was that one did not cross a pissed off Kori Runnels lest they and the world suffer the wrath of the Goddess Calypso. Picking up his shoes from the ground, the British boy offered the ladies a gentlemanly bow. “I always wanted to do the walk of shame with me heels in hand. Really makes a boy feel special…” The red glare from the Captain’s little girl was enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most grizzled of veterans. Clambering over a suitcase, Dougie popped a peck of a kiss on Kori’s cheek. “Love ya.”
Rolling her eyes with a sigh in her lips, Korinna placed her hands on her hips. She tried to stifle a smile. Doug was very much like an annoying friend who couldn’t stay out of trouble but who you couldn’t help but love because beneath the nonsense sat a heart of gold. He was always effortlessly comfortable in her presence and he never tried to be anything less other than what he was, she appreciated that. “Love you too, now get out of here before I slap the shit out of your ass.”
“That a promise? I’ve been a bit bunged up for like three days.” Taking the win, Doug moved past the dark skinned girl and to the previous evening's paramour. He settled his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna love it here. I guarantee it.” His words were genuine, he really wanted Morgan to relax and not stress but then, of course his sweet sayings were swiftly followed by a Dougism. “Right, I’m gonna go see a man about a dog. See you lasses at the big kahuna’s speech. Auf Wiedersehen!” He kissed the top of Morgan’s chocolate head before darting out of the room at breakneck speed.
With her hands still on her hips, Kori let out another sigh before cocking a single eyebrow and staring a hole through her new roommate. “Speaking of dogs…” She let that hang in the air for a moment. “Guess whose turn it is to walk Sunny this morning?”
Morgan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face before shaking her head.
“You know what? Fine. At least she won’t be giving me the third degree before breakfast.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Sunny and I are gonna get along just fine.”
She mulled over Dougie’s parting remark as she looked around for her sneakers. It was hard to imagine loving anything about this situation right now- not with Kori already watching her like a hawk, not with the looming threat of the captain’s inevitable disappointment, and certainly not with the hangover she’d acquired at Calico Jack’s. Man, she really needed to have a word with that guy later.
But she was here, wasn’t she? She’d made it through the application process and the interview, and somehow landed a spot on this season’s crew. Whether Kori liked it or not, Morgan had just as much of a right to be here as anyone else. And despite the rocky start, there was still time to prove that she could handle it. Morgan met the curly haired girl’s gaze, something steely settling in her chest. She didn’t like being doubted, especially not by someone who barely knew her.
Challenge accepted.
Watching Jonas be booted out by Gray left Kori with a deep satisfaction. She didn’t want anyone to put her family’s legacy at risk and piss-ant Nepo babies were very high on that list. Amongst the sea of crewmen, lined up like soldiers in front of her father, Korinna watched Morgan with a sniper's eyes. She stood next to the new chef, Viktoriya and a few rows in front of that damn Doug. The girl was deep in her crosshairs and she would just wait for the perfect moment to pull the trigger.
Still there was plenty of time for that. For now, as her father had asked, Kori needed to think back through the applications and see if there was anyone in there that would be a suitable replacement for Jonas as Culture Guide. Perhaps that could be a perfect challenge for her little roommate to prove her mettle? Comb through hundreds of resumes to find a new crew member. Then again could she trust Morgan’s judgement? Based on the day's events, that was doubtful.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, watching Jonas get swiftly removed left Morgan feeling like her stomach had just bottomed out. They really weren’t kidding in the manual when they mentioned the plane ticket home. While she couldn’t see her, Morgan could feel Kori’s stare burning into her back from a few rows behind, almost as if she was warning her, ‘you’re next’.
The brunette swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her posture tall and her expression schooled and unreadable. She knew better than to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Still, the weight of the captain’s words coiled tight in her chest. One wrong move, one misstep, and she’d be following Jonas out the door. Last night and this morning had been a lapse - she had to be better, she needed to take this seriously.
The murmurs of the crew were a low hum in Morgan’s ears as the meeting wrapped up, and she felt her gaze lingering on Captain Bones a second too long, studying his kind looking eyes and the way he commanded the room with little more than a glance.
Failure wasn’t an option. Not when she had so much more to lose than anyone realized.
No, waking up with a pounding headache and nausea that came in tidal waves on her very first day of work was not how Morgan Simmons intended to start off this adventure. In fact, she was almost certain that this was the exact opposite of making a good first impression. But then again, it wasn’t her fault that Calico Jack’s version of a Vodka Cranberry was a cup of liquor with a few drops of juice. Was it even possible for a bar to sustain itself off of pours like that?
She squeezed her eyes shut to combat the intruding sunlight, and when she rolled over to avoid it further, she found herself pressed up against something solid. No - someone.
Oh no.
It all came rushing back.
Karaoke. Shots. Laughter. His hand on the small of her back as they leaned into each other at the bar. The way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. A whispered suggestion. A shared cab ride back to the house. And then…
As the scent of cologne mixed with whiskey and something distinctly male filled her senses, she warily peeled her eyes open and took in the broad chest in front of her. It rose and fell in steady, peaceful breaths, the kind that suggested no existential crises or creeping regrets lurking beneath the surface. Very much unlike her at that moment.
The brunette stifled a groan and propped herself up on her elbow, the throbbing in her head punishing her for the movement. Her gaze trailed upward to a strong jawline dusted with the beginnings of morning stubble, lips slightly parted, and thick lashes fanned across his cheekbones.
Unfortunately, he was gorgeous.
Even more unfortunately, she had absolutely no recollection of his name.
She closed her eyes again, sifting through the fog of last night’s events and recalling the thick accent that had curled around her with such ease. He had been smooth, confident - dangerously charming. The kind of charm that really should have come with a warning label. Was it something with a D? Danny? Darren?
God, she was screwed.
Maybe she could just… slip out before he woke up and pretend this never happened. A first-day disaster narrowly avoided. Morgan swallowed hard and carefully untangled herself from the sheets, moving inch by painstaking inch toward the edge of the bed. One foot touched the cool hardwood, then the other, the girl holding her breath as she attempted her escape.
“I’m pretty confident this is your room, so I think it’s me that should be making that daring escape, petal.”
Dougie Gillespie sat up swiftly like a monster from a horror movie, albeit a beautiful one. He pressed a palm to each of his pale blue eyes to hide from the morning lights glare of judgement. This wouldn't be his first or his last hangover, the guys and gals in his band back in Tyneside, No Future, they knew how to party but the crew he was with last night, God Almighty in heaven above, they went fucking hard.
Moving his hands away from his face and resting them down to lean against, Doug looked at the girl that had tried to Steve McQueen out of the room which he was pretty sure was hers anyway. As soon as he caught a side glance from her deep chestnut gaze, he was instantly transported to the previous evening.
After sinking a few pints (American ones, so they weren’t the proper job but they would do) and a decent amount of Scottish whiskey, Calico Jack had convinced Doug to get up and sing. He wasn’t against singing in public but after a skinful of booze, he didn’t want to tarnish his reputation. Still, the man’s moustache was hypnotic and even Dougie couldn’t say no. When he got up and began to work the room, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by the stare of a brunette. The way she was looking at him, it was like she was the only person in the audience.
“I imagine you’re pretty freaked out right now? Don’t be.” The Geordie boy climbed out of the bed on his side, slipping perfectly into the waiting crumpled jeans on the floor. “This doesn’t have to be anything you don’t need or want it to be.”
Morgan froze, her pulse pounding in her ears almost as loudly as her headache. He was entirely too smooth for someone who had just woken up, and she couldn’t decide if that was a relief or an additional layer of mortification. The worst part? He was right. Her gaze darted to the corner where her barely unpacked suitcases sat neatly, an undeniable reminder that this was, indeed, her room.
She turned slowly, hugging the sheet to her chest like some flimsy shield against the reality of the situation.
“I’m not… freaked out,” She answered, her voice raspier than she would have liked. She watched him as he pulled on his jeans, the muscles in his back flexing as he stretched. He really was unfairly attractive. If only she could remember his name.
Realizing a little too late that she was barely clothed herself, her brown eyes searched the vicinity for something else to cover her body with other than the thin fabric between her fingers. Thankfully, a flash of burnt orange came into view and she quickly reached for the University of Texas shirt poking out of her suitcase, practically yanking it over her head. “You say that as if this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Well…it’s not.” Dougie did the utmost he possibly could to remember all the respect that his Nan taught him to have for a woman, especially those that were feeling particularly vulnerable but damn, it was hard not to allow eyes to wander when they were looking upon something as beautiful as the girl now wrapped up in a college shirt. “Based on what I do remember from last night, not yours either.”
He narrowly avoided some other garments that had scarred across the floor to make his way to his shirt which hung over a lampshade. As he began to dress himself, the mountaineer once again looked at his previous evening's dance partner. “I’m pretty sure this was Diego’s room last year. He was a fun guy, awful bloody hair though.” He spoke quite nonchalantly before turning his large frame around and facing the pretty southern girl with folded arms. “This your first season?”
Fort Lauderdale was a Mecca for anyone in the travel industry. Cabin crew for planes, yachtees working on boats, those like the CAP enlistees, everyone congregated here. After a while it became easy to recognise those that had served their time and those that were fresh greenhorns looking for a slice of adventure. Doug himself had only done one season with CAP but it was one of the funnest and most exhilarating times in his life. He couldn’t help but openly ponder if this girl was in the same boat as he once was.
Heat crept up Morgan’s neck, his comment sending her back to hours earlier - the haze of alcohol, fragments of flirtatious banter, his touch against her skin. She remembered the chemistry between them, undeniable and magnetic, but somewhere along the way the lines had blurred and she’d completely forgotten about the implications. She hadn’t been thinking straight, hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had, but there they were.
“You’ve got me there,” Exhaling, she ran a hand through her chocolate colored hair, touseling it almost in silent hope that it might lessen her headache or bring forth the key detail she was missing from the night prior. Dean? Derek? She found herself practically going through the letters of the alphabet as she not-so subtly watched him get dressed while his back was turned.
“Yeah, first season,” And starting out quite interestingly, she wanted to add, but she bit her lip to avoid finishing her train of thought. The job at CAP was a stepping stone for Morgan, she was here because it would afford her the opportunity to set off on her own journey one day, and her grand plan included the freedom she craved. But now, facing this stranger who seemed to be remarkably comfortable in the aftermath of their chaotic night, Morgan wasn’t sure she’d prepared adequately for this side of the gig. “I take it you’re not new around here?”
“Nah.” Dougie shook his head. “This is my second tour.” He answered. “Lot of new faces floating around Calico Jack’s last night, yours included. Never forget a face, me; yours included, again.” He tilted his head, breathing in her stare and analysing the look upon her visage. It didn’t take a body language expert to see how uncomfortable she was feeling. “By that way you're staring at me, as much as I would like to think it’s because I’m a gorgeous piece of steak, I imagine it’s more likely that you're trying to place me, remember my name?”
At least in his mind if Doug addressed the girl playfully, it might put her at ease. Their current situation could be addressed in various ways, not all positive and he didn’t want the poor thing to stress herself at something as natural as hooking up at a bar. “It’s Doug, by the way, most call me Dougie.” The boy offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. “Why don’t I go to the bathroom, let you get dressed? It’s early still, we don’t have a roll call for another hour.” His grin was boyish, effortless. “We could go get breakfast and talk about supper last night.”
Morgan opened her mouth, ready to salvage whatever scraps of dignity she had left, but no words came. Instead, she promptly shut it again, a pinkish hue gracing her fair cheeks. Doug, that was his name. At least she’d been on the money with the first letter. The memory finally surfaced of him approaching her at the bar and introducing himself after his performance, accent and all that made her nearly swoon. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been in a situation like this before- because she had on more than a few occasions- but waking up next to someone she was supposed to be working with? That was a whole new level of ‘what the hell have I done’.
“Look Dougie,” She emphasized his name but her voice came out softer than intended, her throat dry. She swallowed and pushed forward, offering the blonde a small, sheepish smile. “Last night was fun, believe me, I had a really great time with you,” Dougie, of course, only looked more amused. His smile was easy, like he had all the time in the world to let her flounder through this awkward speech.
Why did he have to be so attractive? And charming - suggesting breakfast like this was no more than a rom-com. He was making this exceptionally difficult.
“But we both know this is… probably not the best idea.” She gestured vaguely between them, hoping he’d take the hint without making her say it outright.
“Alas, my poor heart.” Doug feigned heartbreak with a dramatic clutch of his chest. He almost dropped to one knee but even he thought that maybe that move was a bit too much. He straightened himself up and the damndest smile returned to his handsome face. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to make your first day even more awkward.”
In hindsight, Doug really should’ve thought about what he was doing the previous night. He knew how wild the orientation party at Jack’s could get, he suffered for it the previous year when he woke up naked on the roof of Oceana house except for a traffic cone he wore as a hat. This girl, Morgan, was out there, trying something special, exciting and he may have helped her do something she regretted, or at the very least didn’t want to do straight away. Dougie, as a rule, tried not to have any regrets, tried not to overthink things but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t stop others from doing as such.
“We had fun, it was a good night, let’s just leave it there and get on with having a great season. You’re gonna love this, Morgan.” He winked at the girl knowingly, a little soft jab for not remembering his name. “Let me just wash my face and I’ll get out of your hair.” Doug already knew where the bathroom was and made his way inside to tidy himself up before the assembly.
Morgan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding as the blonde disappeared into the bathroom. She hadn't expected him to be so... cool about this. No awkward insistence, no attempts to change her mind. Just an easy smile and a wink that made her stomach twist and body warm in ways she didn’t even want to acknowledge.
Oh, she was so screwed.
“Get it together, Simmons,” The brunette muttered under her breath as she rubbed her temples, the remnants of last night’s drinks still humming at the edges of her mind. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in something complicated before the season even started. She was here to work, after all, it was part of her job to be professional, and what had transpired between her and Dougie last night was anything but.
Hopefully, everything only went up from here.
Korinna took her job as serious as a heart attack, she had to. CAP was her parents' baby, their beloved. It was something that she knew, no matter how many times he denied it, that her father used to remember her late mother. Kori felt the all too familiar pang of a daughter's guilt in her heart; as time passed, the memory of her mother continued to slip away with the passage of her aging. If not for pictures, she would have forgotten her face by now. If not for videos, she would have forgotten her voice. The curly haired woman hated every iota of that with a passion. She didn’t want to forget the woman that gave her life.
The accusation of nepotism was not lost on Kori, she knew what people thought when they saw her. Yet this industry, it was in her blood. From her parents to her grandfather, her love for the islands and nature herself; she cared so deeply that the iron brand of Nepo-baby she wore, she wore it proudly. Kori lived for this and she worked hard for this and she would be damned to the depths if she let anyone mess it up for her, or her family.
Which was the main reason she asked to room with Morgan Simmons. She told her Dad not to hire the girl, nothing on her application screamed Corsair. Yet for all his faults, her dad was nostalgic and seeing that the Simmons girl was from the same area he was born and raised, pulled on his heartstrings. Then the previous evening, she watched the girl kick the hornets nest, shake up the status quo and stand out in a crowd, craving attention. Kori knew she would need to keep an eye on this one, straighten her out if she needed to, no one was going to jeopardise everything her father had built.
She opened the door to the room, greeted by the sight of Morgan in nothing but a t-shirt and a distinct smell of something she knew but could not place. “Really? You’re just getting up now?” Kori wheeled her suitcase into the dorm and parked it next to the writing desk. “We’ve got to be downstairs in like an hour. Have you even bothered to press your uniform yet?”
“Oh my god,” Morgan’s eyes went wide as the door swung open and she was immediately faced with the sharp, scrutinizing gaze of the captain’s daughter. She’d only learned last night that this was very much a family business, and if there was one thing that was immediately clear, it was that Kori took that fact incredibly seriously.
She moved like a storm front rolling in, her dark curls bouncing with the force of her entrance. There was no hesitation, no pause - just pure, unshaken authority as she strode inside. One could just feel the judgment radiating off of Kori, the kind of intensity that suggested she had impossibly high standards and no patience for anyone who didn’t meet them. And now, here she was, standing in the middle of the room like a drill sergeant who’d just laid eyes on the weakest link.
“Have you heard of this thing called knocking?” The brunette scrambled immediately, throwing open her bag and grabbing the first pair of pants she could find, nearly tripping over herself as she yanked them on. She was caught somewhere between last night’s decisions and the creeping reality of the morning, her brain still playing catch-up.
Which was probably why it took her a second to register the suitcase Kori had wheeled in behind her.
“Please tell me that’s not yours.”
“No, it’s Lance’s.” Kori couldn’t help but roll her dark eyes at the newcomers' stupidity or naivety, she wasn’t sure which more accurately portrayed Morgan yet. “Of course it’s mine, didn’t you read the CAP App? I mean you must’ve since you found your way here last night.” The Captain’s daughter was not against a good time by any means, if you asked some of the old hands of the crew they’d tell you that Korinna could be as wild as the best of them but she never made a show of herself and she always put the job first.
Kori liked to think she was a good judge of character and she was sure as soon as she saw Morgan that she was hiding something. Something was just a little off about the girl and she couldn’t figure it out yet, but she would. Korinna always got the job done. That was why she asked for this room assignment. She wasn’t going to let this be a puzzle left unsolved.
“Your uniform should already be hanging up in the closet. Skort and polo. That’s what we wear unless you are on adventure. Chop chop.” Kori did not have time to play around with Morgan and watch her squirm, as satisfying as she might find it; the Captain, Dad, was waiting. She took off her own shirt without provocation and made her way to the closet, opening up to look at the multitude of uniforms already there. “Larger set is mine, obviously.” Morgan was skinnier and looked to be a bit smaller than Kori; she actually looked amazing. What a bitch.
She was rooming with Kori?
Morgan’s stomach dropped. She clearly hadn’t read the app closely enough, or she had and simply chose to ignore it. Of all the people she could’ve been stuck with for the season, it had to be her. The captain’s daughter. The human embodiment of a performance review. She could feel Kori’s eyes dissecting her every move, and it made her skin prickle with irritation.
“Skort?” She echoed, wrinkling her nose as she turned toward the closet. Sure enough, there it was- a neatly pressed uniform, a skort and top. It looked deceptively innocent, like it wasn’t about to become the bane of her existence.
Fucking hell.
And as Kori made herself right at home and began to change, Morgan came to the incredibly unfortunate realization that Dougie hadn’t left yet. He was still here.
Of course, somehow it gets worse!
She needed to get Kori out of here - just for a few minutes - long enough to deal with the blonde boy in the bathroom who was completely unaware that she had barged in like she owned the place. Because she did own the place. Morgan couldn’t let Kori see him - no way in hell was she giving her more ammunition to doubt her judgement - so she needed to come up with something, and fast.
“Say, Kori, you wouldn’t mind just giving me a little bit of time to freshen up? Alone?” Morgan forced a tight-lipped smile, tilting her head just enough to feign innocence, layering on her best southern charm. “You know, shake off the morning fog, get myself looking presentable. First impressions and all.”
Kori narrowed her eyes slightly. The soft southern belle wouldn’t work on her, not by a long shot. She had tried and failed to master it herself, too much of her mother in her, she always thought. The cowgirl roots weren’t overly strong in her, in spite of her father’s family. Morgan was just lucky that Kori needed to freshen her make up. At all hazards, one must keep up appearances; Grandma Martha taught her that and she was the most glamorous rancher's wife in all of Texas.
“That’s fine.” Korinna spoke rather bluntly as she began to rummage through a small black bag she had removed from her case in search of some lipstick. Maybe she was being too hard on the brunette? Maybe Morgan needed to be given more of a chance? After all, they were going to be rooming together all season and this would likely be Kori’s last. She didn’t want to make it a miserable one. “You know, my Dad doesn’t tend to waffle for too long, he’s not a talker. Maybe once he’s done, you and I can head to Eden, get some breakfast and..”
She was interrupted by the sudden opening of the bathroom door. “DOUGIE WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“I was gonna climb out of the window…but there’s no window.” Doug confidently strode out of the wash room with that damn grin across his face. “Lovely to see you Kori, hair looks lush, lot of volume and hey, did you gain an ab?” He turned to look at Morgan. If telepathy was a thing, he would be trying to tell her that he was attempting to create a distraction so that she didn’t worry but something told him that he didn’t possess that particular superpower. “We roomed together last year. She’s a snorer, she loves the weed, loves all animals and Buffy the Vampire Slayer but I mean, same, Sarah Michelle Gellar is lush.”
Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply, attempting to remain composed even as disaster unfolded before her. Just when she thought she had the chance to get out of this situation unscathed, her golden opportunity gloriously backfired. The brunette exhaled slowly, eyes darting from Dougie back to Kori, already bracing for whatever fresh judgment was coming her way from the latter of the pair. She doubted that her breakfast invitation would still stand after this.
“Solid attempt, but not helping, Dougie.” The brunette muttered, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest as if that could shield her from the absolute trainwreck of a morning she was having. Next time she went to Calico Jack’s - if there was a next time - she was sticking to water. Ice cold, non-alcoholic, water. Her gaze pinned on Kori, who looked about five seconds away from writing up a full report on her moral failings and leaving it on the captain’s desk for him to peruse at his leisure.
“All I’m saying is that if you had knocked, we could have avoided this entirely.”
“Why would I knock when it’s my room?” Kori said in retort. “It’s not my fault you didn’t read the app and it isn’t my fault you brought a stray dog home with you last night…no offence Dougie…no actually yes some offence intended. You’re an asshole. What are you still doing here? Go get ready!”
Doug learned much after his first season last year, one such thing he learned was that one did not cross a pissed off Kori Runnels lest they and the world suffer the wrath of the Goddess Calypso. Picking up his shoes from the ground, the British boy offered the ladies a gentlemanly bow. “I always wanted to do the walk of shame with me heels in hand. Really makes a boy feel special…” The red glare from the Captain’s little girl was enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most grizzled of veterans. Clambering over a suitcase, Dougie popped a peck of a kiss on Kori’s cheek. “Love ya.”
Rolling her eyes with a sigh in her lips, Korinna placed her hands on her hips. She tried to stifle a smile. Doug was very much like an annoying friend who couldn’t stay out of trouble but who you couldn’t help but love because beneath the nonsense sat a heart of gold. He was always effortlessly comfortable in her presence and he never tried to be anything less other than what he was, she appreciated that. “Love you too, now get out of here before I slap the shit out of your ass.”
“That a promise? I’ve been a bit bunged up for like three days.” Taking the win, Doug moved past the dark skinned girl and to the previous evening's paramour. He settled his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna love it here. I guarantee it.” His words were genuine, he really wanted Morgan to relax and not stress but then, of course his sweet sayings were swiftly followed by a Dougism. “Right, I’m gonna go see a man about a dog. See you lasses at the big kahuna’s speech. Auf Wiedersehen!” He kissed the top of Morgan’s chocolate head before darting out of the room at breakneck speed.
With her hands still on her hips, Kori let out another sigh before cocking a single eyebrow and staring a hole through her new roommate. “Speaking of dogs…” She let that hang in the air for a moment. “Guess whose turn it is to walk Sunny this morning?”
Morgan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face before shaking her head.
“You know what? Fine. At least she won’t be giving me the third degree before breakfast.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Sunny and I are gonna get along just fine.”
She mulled over Dougie’s parting remark as she looked around for her sneakers. It was hard to imagine loving anything about this situation right now- not with Kori already watching her like a hawk, not with the looming threat of the captain’s inevitable disappointment, and certainly not with the hangover she’d acquired at Calico Jack’s. Man, she really needed to have a word with that guy later.
But she was here, wasn’t she? She’d made it through the application process and the interview, and somehow landed a spot on this season’s crew. Whether Kori liked it or not, Morgan had just as much of a right to be here as anyone else. And despite the rocky start, there was still time to prove that she could handle it. Morgan met the curly haired girl’s gaze, something steely settling in her chest. She didn’t like being doubted, especially not by someone who barely knew her.
Challenge accepted.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Timestamp: 9:10am
Location: Oceana House, Front Lawn
Location: Oceana House, Front Lawn
Watching Jonas be booted out by Gray left Kori with a deep satisfaction. She didn’t want anyone to put her family’s legacy at risk and piss-ant Nepo babies were very high on that list. Amongst the sea of crewmen, lined up like soldiers in front of her father, Korinna watched Morgan with a sniper's eyes. She stood next to the new chef, Viktoriya and a few rows in front of that damn Doug. The girl was deep in her crosshairs and she would just wait for the perfect moment to pull the trigger.
Still there was plenty of time for that. For now, as her father had asked, Kori needed to think back through the applications and see if there was anyone in there that would be a suitable replacement for Jonas as Culture Guide. Perhaps that could be a perfect challenge for her little roommate to prove her mettle? Comb through hundreds of resumes to find a new crew member. Then again could she trust Morgan’s judgement? Based on the day's events, that was doubtful.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, watching Jonas get swiftly removed left Morgan feeling like her stomach had just bottomed out. They really weren’t kidding in the manual when they mentioned the plane ticket home. While she couldn’t see her, Morgan could feel Kori’s stare burning into her back from a few rows behind, almost as if she was warning her, ‘you’re next’.
The brunette swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her posture tall and her expression schooled and unreadable. She knew better than to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Still, the weight of the captain’s words coiled tight in her chest. One wrong move, one misstep, and she’d be following Jonas out the door. Last night and this morning had been a lapse - she had to be better, she needed to take this seriously.
The murmurs of the crew were a low hum in Morgan’s ears as the meeting wrapped up, and she felt her gaze lingering on Captain Bones a second too long, studying his kind looking eyes and the way he commanded the room with little more than a glance.
Failure wasn’t an option. Not when she had so much more to lose than anyone realized.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Vampire's Home → Tavern - Ünterland
Human #5.081: In The Woods Somewhere
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): N/A
Previously: Shot In the Dark
Cassius kept his word.
Not long after vanishing into the shadows, he returned, a midnight-colored cloak draped over his arm and a dagger held firmly in his hand - one of Aurora’s weapons that he had confiscated.
“We’re going into town. You’ll need these.” He offered her the garment first and the redhead reached out, her fingers brushing against the heavy fabric. The exterior was a thick wool, meant to keep out the cold, while the inner lining was softer linen, warm against her skin. She wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck before pulling the hood up to conceal her copper hair.
Cassius hesitated, second thoughts no doubt running through his mind, before extending the hilt of the dagger toward her, the sharp blade pointed at his midsection. His expression was unreadable, but the silent warning in his eyes that accompanied his motions was unmistakable. Aurora’s delicate fingers grazed his as she reclaimed the blade, and without a word she quickly sheathed it at her thigh, nodding in quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken rules. She knew better than to ask about the location of her sword.
“Stay close to me,” He ordered. “Don’t draw attention to yourself and don’t speak to anyone.”
“Got it.”
She followed him out of the dimly lit room, stepping into the rest of his home which she had yet to see. The corridor was narrow, the walls lined with dark paneling that gleamed under the flickering candlelight of sconces that were hung every few feet. Her boots made little sound against the polished hardwood as she trailed behind Cassius, her gaze drinking in the details - everything here was old yet meticulously maintained, untouched by dust or time.
At the end of the hall, he pushed open a heavy wooden door, the hinges creaking in protest and a gust of cool air swept inside. They stepped out of the house and into a secluded courtyard, the stone walls draped in twisting vines whose shadows stretched against the ancient brickwork like skeletal fingers. The vampire led the way to a wrought-iron gate that separated his estate from the rest of the town and Aurora followed, tightening the cloak around herself against the chill in the air. She was careful to keep pace without making it obvious that she had to work to match his long strides.
The streets were quiet at this hour, the town bathed in crimson moonlight and the soft glow of distant lanterns. They took the back roads, Cassius moving like a specter, his sharp gaze sweeping over their surroundings. More than once, he paused, his head tilting slightly as though listening for something beyond her range of hearing. The redhead held her breath each time, fingers instinctively drifting toward her dagger, but after a few moments he would continue on, and she would exhale quietly, unsure whether to feel relieved or more on edge.
As they wove through the narrow streets, Aurora felt the weight of unseen glances upon them. No one dared to stare outright, but she sensed the flickers of curiosity, the subtle shifts of movement in the shadows. Cassius carried himself with an air of quiet authority that discouraged attention, but Aurora… she was something unfamiliar here, something that didn’t quite belong. Every step felt like a risk and the threat of exposure pressed against her ribs.
Stay close, don’t draw attention, don’t speak to anyone.
Finally, he paused in front of a decrepit structure, its wooden frame weathered by time and neglect. A sign hung crookedly above the entrance, the name of the tavern barely legible beneath layers upon layers of grime. Light seeped through the cracks in the shutters, casting thin, ghostly beams onto the cobblestone street. Cassius looked back at Aurora and inclined his head towards the establishment, indicating that this would be their destination.
The door groaned as he pulled it open and warm, stale air spilled out, smelling of damp wood and spiced liquor. Aurora allowed Cassius to usher her inside, immediately aware of the dozen pairs of eyes that shifted toward them. Conversations quieted just slightly, only to resume a moment later, though she could still feel lingering unease in the glances thrown her way.
Her companion moved with the confidence of someone who had done this before - someone who knew exactly who he was here to see. She followed, keeping her head low and resisting the urge to look around, and they quickly reached the back corner of the tavern where a lone figure lounged at a table, boots propped up on the chair across from him. The man’s dark clothing melted into the dimness, but his silver grey eyes gleamed in the flickering light as he took in their arrival. His posture was deceptively relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the seat while the other toyed with the rim of a half-full glass of amber liquid.
“Cassius, what an… unexpected surprise. You rarely frequent these parts,” He mused, voice smooth and words clearly calculated. His gaze slid to Aurora and a slow, devious smile curled at his lips, revealing sharp, glistening fangs.
Another vampire.
“And who might this lovely creature be?” He flicked a glance back at Cassius, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Have you finally learned to play well with others?”
“No one you need to concern yourself with,” Cassius stepped forward slightly, his posture tense and his flat tone carrying a warning. “She’s with me.” The other vampire chuckled, utterly unbothered.
“Always so serious, Cassius. But very well.” The shifting candlelight cast long shadows across his face as he gestured to the set of worn seats across from him. “Sit.”
Cassius’s jaw tightened, and yet he said nothing in response. Reaching around Aurora, he pulled out one of the chairs from the table and motioned for her to take a seat before following suit, settling in beside her. The vampire studied them both, tapping a single finger against the side of his glass.
“I assume you didn’t come here for pleasantries.”
“What have you seen recently, Gideon?” Cassius wasted no time, his tone clipped, and the vampire - Gideon - arched his brow.
“You’ll have to be more specific. I see many things.”
“Yes, we all know you’re the Jarl’s favorite watchdog…” Cassius exhaled sharply, his patience thinning and disdain coating the obvious jab, but steadied his tone. “I’m asking about anything unusual.”
Gideon pursed his lips, considering the inquiry.
“Well, let’s see,” His thumb and index finger came to rest on his chin as he feigned inquisitive thought. “The vendors at the market have been restless. Some of their rarer wares have gone missing as of recent - expensive, irreplaceable things. And the apothecary?” He let out a soft, amused sound akin to a scoff. “Let’s just say he’s not been himself lately. Swears someone’s been tampering with his stock, and whatever it is has had him paranoid ever since.”
“There was also the man who came through last week,” Gideon continued, leaning in towards the pair, “Tall. Scarred. Wore the look of a hunter, though he tried to hide it. He was asking questions about strangers.” His gaze drifted toward Aurora, seeming to watch her carefully for a reaction. “About people who didn’t belong.”
The redhead’s grip tightened in her lap but her facial expression remained soft, stoic. Nervously, she spun her ring on her thin finger, the etched licks of flames dancing as she turned the golden metal band round.
“Which reminds me of something else - one from my coven found themselves in the forest hunting, and he saw something rather curious,” Gideon murmured, his previous theatrics dimming as he divulged the intel. “He came across a pack of wolves. But one among them didn’t belong. A young woman.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat.
“She was disheveled, but nonetheless still devastating. Covered in tattoos and markings. Hair as black as ebony,” He raised a brow at Aurora, “Striking blue eyes.”
A flood of emotions hit the redhead all at once - relief, disbelief, and hope so sharp it was painful.
“Amma,” She breathed, the name tumbling from her lips before she could stop herself. If he was being truthful, Amma was here, she was alive. Their journey had not been in vain.
“Ah, so she does speak.” Gideon’s smirk deepened and he leaned back, pleased with himself. “Tell me, dear, who is she and why is she so important to you?”
Aurora ignored him and his question, pulse thudding in her ears, and looked to Cassius with panic in her eyes. He cut in before Gideon could gloat or pry further.
“Where. Where were they seen?”
“It wouldn’t help you much, the wolves move fast. By now? Who knows.” He shrugged with a sigh, eyes still set upon the redhead, “But she was in the forest, that much is certain. And, if I were to wager… she’s not the only one you need to be watching for.” Gideon took a long sip of his drink, knowing that Aurora was hanging on his every word before finally looking at Cassius. “The pack was traveling east, towards the Blackwood.”
The redhead’s companion cursed under his breath and silence settled between them for a beat before he pushed back his chair, standing abruptly.
“We’re done here.” Cassius looked down at Aurora and she got the hint, quickly rising to her feet. Across the table, Gideon raised his glass in a mock toast, his smirk lingering.
“A pleasure, as always, Cassius. I’ll be sure to send the Jarl your regards.”
Cassius didn’t acknowledge the remark, already turning toward the door and the redhead followed, weaving through the tables and patrons alike to catch up to him. She could feel Gideon’s gaze still pinned on her, burning a hole into her back, but she did not falter as they made their hasty departure. They stepped past the threshold, and only then did she allow herself to breathe as they emerged onto the uneven cobblestone street, the sounds of the tavern fading behind them
“Alright,” She muttered, casting a glance over her shoulder to ensure the door had creaked shut and that they were alone again. “What’s so bad about the Blackwood?”
The vampire didn’t reply. Instead, he adjusted the collar of his jacket and picked a piece of lint off of the lapel before walking with purpose towards the distant treeline, leaving Aurora’s question hanging. Refusing to be ignored, she ran ahead of him and planted herself in his path, stopping him in his tracks and glancing up expectantly for an answer.
“Well?”
Cassius exhaled heavily.
“The Blackwood isn’t just part of the forest. It’s old - older than the town, older than most things in these parts. And it has always belonged to them.” The redhead raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Them?”
“The witches.”
“Witches,” Aurora’s gaze narrowed. Sure, she’d heard stories and folklore, but she’d never personally encountered a witch. Then again, she’d never encountered a vampire either before Cassius. “And what’s so bad about the witches?” He let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.
“You ask that as if witches are nothing more than old women whispering over cauldrons.” He replied, and Aurora crossed her arms.
“I mean, are they?” She studied his face, searching for any trace of mirth, but found none as he shook his head in response. “Alright, so what makes them so dangerous?”
“They don’t follow the same rules as the rest of us,” Cassius said, starting forward again and this time, Aurora fell into step beside him instead of blocking his path. “They’re unpredictable, and they don’t take kindly to trespassers.”
“I’m sensing a common theme here,” She muttered under her breath and Cassius shot her a look, but it didn’t deter her as she continued her train of thought. “Why do I get the feeling it’s not just outsiders they hate - but you in particular?”
“Let’s just say we have history. And they aren’t exactly fans of mine.” He revealed, and Aurora’s curiosity was instantly piqued.
“What did you do?”
“Something they don’t forgive.”
Before she had the chance to press further, a sound split through the darkness - something between a screech and a roar, so unnatural it made the air itself seem to vibrate.
“What was that?” Aurora asked, her voice barely more than a breath, eyes wide. Cassius had stilled beside her too, going tense as his sharp gaze scanned the darkened sky towards the awaiting forest.
“Nothing good.”
Not long after vanishing into the shadows, he returned, a midnight-colored cloak draped over his arm and a dagger held firmly in his hand - one of Aurora’s weapons that he had confiscated.
“We’re going into town. You’ll need these.” He offered her the garment first and the redhead reached out, her fingers brushing against the heavy fabric. The exterior was a thick wool, meant to keep out the cold, while the inner lining was softer linen, warm against her skin. She wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck before pulling the hood up to conceal her copper hair.
Cassius hesitated, second thoughts no doubt running through his mind, before extending the hilt of the dagger toward her, the sharp blade pointed at his midsection. His expression was unreadable, but the silent warning in his eyes that accompanied his motions was unmistakable. Aurora’s delicate fingers grazed his as she reclaimed the blade, and without a word she quickly sheathed it at her thigh, nodding in quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken rules. She knew better than to ask about the location of her sword.
“Stay close to me,” He ordered. “Don’t draw attention to yourself and don’t speak to anyone.”
“Got it.”
She followed him out of the dimly lit room, stepping into the rest of his home which she had yet to see. The corridor was narrow, the walls lined with dark paneling that gleamed under the flickering candlelight of sconces that were hung every few feet. Her boots made little sound against the polished hardwood as she trailed behind Cassius, her gaze drinking in the details - everything here was old yet meticulously maintained, untouched by dust or time.
At the end of the hall, he pushed open a heavy wooden door, the hinges creaking in protest and a gust of cool air swept inside. They stepped out of the house and into a secluded courtyard, the stone walls draped in twisting vines whose shadows stretched against the ancient brickwork like skeletal fingers. The vampire led the way to a wrought-iron gate that separated his estate from the rest of the town and Aurora followed, tightening the cloak around herself against the chill in the air. She was careful to keep pace without making it obvious that she had to work to match his long strides.
The streets were quiet at this hour, the town bathed in crimson moonlight and the soft glow of distant lanterns. They took the back roads, Cassius moving like a specter, his sharp gaze sweeping over their surroundings. More than once, he paused, his head tilting slightly as though listening for something beyond her range of hearing. The redhead held her breath each time, fingers instinctively drifting toward her dagger, but after a few moments he would continue on, and she would exhale quietly, unsure whether to feel relieved or more on edge.
As they wove through the narrow streets, Aurora felt the weight of unseen glances upon them. No one dared to stare outright, but she sensed the flickers of curiosity, the subtle shifts of movement in the shadows. Cassius carried himself with an air of quiet authority that discouraged attention, but Aurora… she was something unfamiliar here, something that didn’t quite belong. Every step felt like a risk and the threat of exposure pressed against her ribs.
Stay close, don’t draw attention, don’t speak to anyone.
Finally, he paused in front of a decrepit structure, its wooden frame weathered by time and neglect. A sign hung crookedly above the entrance, the name of the tavern barely legible beneath layers upon layers of grime. Light seeped through the cracks in the shutters, casting thin, ghostly beams onto the cobblestone street. Cassius looked back at Aurora and inclined his head towards the establishment, indicating that this would be their destination.
The door groaned as he pulled it open and warm, stale air spilled out, smelling of damp wood and spiced liquor. Aurora allowed Cassius to usher her inside, immediately aware of the dozen pairs of eyes that shifted toward them. Conversations quieted just slightly, only to resume a moment later, though she could still feel lingering unease in the glances thrown her way.
Her companion moved with the confidence of someone who had done this before - someone who knew exactly who he was here to see. She followed, keeping her head low and resisting the urge to look around, and they quickly reached the back corner of the tavern where a lone figure lounged at a table, boots propped up on the chair across from him. The man’s dark clothing melted into the dimness, but his silver grey eyes gleamed in the flickering light as he took in their arrival. His posture was deceptively relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the seat while the other toyed with the rim of a half-full glass of amber liquid.
“Cassius, what an… unexpected surprise. You rarely frequent these parts,” He mused, voice smooth and words clearly calculated. His gaze slid to Aurora and a slow, devious smile curled at his lips, revealing sharp, glistening fangs.
Another vampire.
“And who might this lovely creature be?” He flicked a glance back at Cassius, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Have you finally learned to play well with others?”
“No one you need to concern yourself with,” Cassius stepped forward slightly, his posture tense and his flat tone carrying a warning. “She’s with me.” The other vampire chuckled, utterly unbothered.
“Always so serious, Cassius. But very well.” The shifting candlelight cast long shadows across his face as he gestured to the set of worn seats across from him. “Sit.”
Cassius’s jaw tightened, and yet he said nothing in response. Reaching around Aurora, he pulled out one of the chairs from the table and motioned for her to take a seat before following suit, settling in beside her. The vampire studied them both, tapping a single finger against the side of his glass.
“I assume you didn’t come here for pleasantries.”
“What have you seen recently, Gideon?” Cassius wasted no time, his tone clipped, and the vampire - Gideon - arched his brow.
“You’ll have to be more specific. I see many things.”
“Yes, we all know you’re the Jarl’s favorite watchdog…” Cassius exhaled sharply, his patience thinning and disdain coating the obvious jab, but steadied his tone. “I’m asking about anything unusual.”
Gideon pursed his lips, considering the inquiry.
“Well, let’s see,” His thumb and index finger came to rest on his chin as he feigned inquisitive thought. “The vendors at the market have been restless. Some of their rarer wares have gone missing as of recent - expensive, irreplaceable things. And the apothecary?” He let out a soft, amused sound akin to a scoff. “Let’s just say he’s not been himself lately. Swears someone’s been tampering with his stock, and whatever it is has had him paranoid ever since.”
“There was also the man who came through last week,” Gideon continued, leaning in towards the pair, “Tall. Scarred. Wore the look of a hunter, though he tried to hide it. He was asking questions about strangers.” His gaze drifted toward Aurora, seeming to watch her carefully for a reaction. “About people who didn’t belong.”
The redhead’s grip tightened in her lap but her facial expression remained soft, stoic. Nervously, she spun her ring on her thin finger, the etched licks of flames dancing as she turned the golden metal band round.
“Which reminds me of something else - one from my coven found themselves in the forest hunting, and he saw something rather curious,” Gideon murmured, his previous theatrics dimming as he divulged the intel. “He came across a pack of wolves. But one among them didn’t belong. A young woman.”
Aurora’s breath caught in her throat.
“She was disheveled, but nonetheless still devastating. Covered in tattoos and markings. Hair as black as ebony,” He raised a brow at Aurora, “Striking blue eyes.”
A flood of emotions hit the redhead all at once - relief, disbelief, and hope so sharp it was painful.
“Amma,” She breathed, the name tumbling from her lips before she could stop herself. If he was being truthful, Amma was here, she was alive. Their journey had not been in vain.
“Ah, so she does speak.” Gideon’s smirk deepened and he leaned back, pleased with himself. “Tell me, dear, who is she and why is she so important to you?”
Aurora ignored him and his question, pulse thudding in her ears, and looked to Cassius with panic in her eyes. He cut in before Gideon could gloat or pry further.
“Where. Where were they seen?”
“It wouldn’t help you much, the wolves move fast. By now? Who knows.” He shrugged with a sigh, eyes still set upon the redhead, “But she was in the forest, that much is certain. And, if I were to wager… she’s not the only one you need to be watching for.” Gideon took a long sip of his drink, knowing that Aurora was hanging on his every word before finally looking at Cassius. “The pack was traveling east, towards the Blackwood.”
The redhead’s companion cursed under his breath and silence settled between them for a beat before he pushed back his chair, standing abruptly.
“We’re done here.” Cassius looked down at Aurora and she got the hint, quickly rising to her feet. Across the table, Gideon raised his glass in a mock toast, his smirk lingering.
“A pleasure, as always, Cassius. I’ll be sure to send the Jarl your regards.”
Cassius didn’t acknowledge the remark, already turning toward the door and the redhead followed, weaving through the tables and patrons alike to catch up to him. She could feel Gideon’s gaze still pinned on her, burning a hole into her back, but she did not falter as they made their hasty departure. They stepped past the threshold, and only then did she allow herself to breathe as they emerged onto the uneven cobblestone street, the sounds of the tavern fading behind them
“Alright,” She muttered, casting a glance over her shoulder to ensure the door had creaked shut and that they were alone again. “What’s so bad about the Blackwood?”
The vampire didn’t reply. Instead, he adjusted the collar of his jacket and picked a piece of lint off of the lapel before walking with purpose towards the distant treeline, leaving Aurora’s question hanging. Refusing to be ignored, she ran ahead of him and planted herself in his path, stopping him in his tracks and glancing up expectantly for an answer.
“Well?”
Cassius exhaled heavily.
“The Blackwood isn’t just part of the forest. It’s old - older than the town, older than most things in these parts. And it has always belonged to them.” The redhead raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Them?”
“The witches.”
“Witches,” Aurora’s gaze narrowed. Sure, she’d heard stories and folklore, but she’d never personally encountered a witch. Then again, she’d never encountered a vampire either before Cassius. “And what’s so bad about the witches?” He let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head.
“You ask that as if witches are nothing more than old women whispering over cauldrons.” He replied, and Aurora crossed her arms.
“I mean, are they?” She studied his face, searching for any trace of mirth, but found none as he shook his head in response. “Alright, so what makes them so dangerous?”
“They don’t follow the same rules as the rest of us,” Cassius said, starting forward again and this time, Aurora fell into step beside him instead of blocking his path. “They’re unpredictable, and they don’t take kindly to trespassers.”
“I’m sensing a common theme here,” She muttered under her breath and Cassius shot her a look, but it didn’t deter her as she continued her train of thought. “Why do I get the feeling it’s not just outsiders they hate - but you in particular?”
“Let’s just say we have history. And they aren’t exactly fans of mine.” He revealed, and Aurora’s curiosity was instantly piqued.
“What did you do?”
“Something they don’t forgive.”
Before she had the chance to press further, a sound split through the darkness - something between a screech and a roar, so unnatural it made the air itself seem to vibrate.
“What was that?” Aurora asked, her voice barely more than a breath, eyes wide. Cassius had stilled beside her too, going tense as his sharp gaze scanned the darkened sky towards the awaiting forest.
“Nothing good.”
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