Introduction:
Hey, everyone! I'm Bunny - or Moonie, as you prefer - and this is my RT.
I won't bog things down too much with my backstory or overly prosaic posturing, I'll just say I have been writing for a very long time and that I am excited to meet everyone here ♡
So! Let's get to the meat! :D
What I'm Looking for:
- Roughly a 70/30 or 80/20 plot to smut ratio, and a maximum of 50/50:
I'm not here to write straight porn. I like writing smut, but I want the characters to be motivated and I want there to be a story. I would absolutely be fine with a higher plot ratio, or even a story that didn't contain smut at all.
- Someone who understands that quantity =/= quality:
I love a long post, and I often write long replies averaging 300-600 words, but we don't need to be writing a 5 paragraph post every time. Sure, there are times that such length is necessary, but if our characters are alone and having a conversation, there is no reason for each reply to be a huge wall of text. Long story short, post lengths should shift to reflect the needs of the scene and the flow of the moment.
- Someone who enjoys world building:
Pretty self explanatory. I like to create unique and interesting settings for my stories to take place in, and it's always fun to have a partner who enjoys that too.
- Someone who writes in the third person:
This is non-negotiable
- A reasonable grasp of English grammar. I totally understand that some people are not native speakers and that typos happen even to those who are. I just ask that a post be legible and easily understood. I will be checking myself as well, of course! No one likes a hypocrite :P
- Original settings and characters:
I don't do fandom rps of any kind, because I find using an exisiting universe very limiting.
Plots and Settings:
As a general rule I like to really hash out details and plot lines with my partners. The ideas listed here are just going to be loose skeletons of the concepts as well as a list of tropes I enjoy, with the intention that details would be filled in when you and I go to set it up.
I have been craving Horror, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, and Supernatural creatures more strongly than just about anything else lately. Here are a few plots concepts in particular that I have been stewing on:
1. Duty over Desire: high fantasy, supernatural, court drama, romance
An enemies to lovers arranged marriage story. Preferably between two Supernatural creatures or a Supernatural creature and a human. They don't get along at all, despite a mutual physical attraction neither one would cop to, but their union will end a war that has raged between their cultures for an extended period of time and they have no choice. This would focus on the romance, court drama/schemes, and politics.
2. The Sorceress and the Princess: high fantasy, fantasy adventure, romance
The genders here don't actually matter, it was just initially envisioned as an FxF plot. The loose concept is that the royal's kingdom and their family are being ravaged by a deadly disease, the cure of which is in the untamed magic wilds of the land. The last healthy royal and their court sorcerer(ess)/childhood friend travel this dangerous road together to get the cure. The pair realize during their journey that they might actually be in love with one another, rather than just best friends.
3. Ravenswood Hollow: historical fiction, supernatural horror, romance
I am in the Halloween spirit right now, and I would love to play out a historical fiction horror inspired by Sleepy Hollow! A school teacher moves to a small town in the rural countryside in the late 1700's/early 1800's to escape from the pain of a recent after a family tragedy. At first, this place seems quaint and lovely - if a little backward - and the school teacher believes they will be able to find a community there, despite not quite fitting in to the local culture. The townsfolk are superstitious, and though friendly, they are slow to truly warm to strangers. With the school teacher being a very rational person, they often find themselves clashing with some of the locals, but their more logical approach to life manages to catch the eye of one member of the community. This individual is the only child of the wealthiest farmer in the village, and thus they are considered the most eligible bachelor(ette) in town. Despite this, they have always kept their suitors at arm's length, because they have a much deeper connection to the spiritual happenings of the town than most. They can see and hear what others cannot, but they can't control it, nor can they easily interpret what they are seeing. This brings them to the teacher, who at first dismisses them until they finally see the ghost themself. From there, the teacher becomes obsessed with finding out as much as they can about the spirit, and they band together with the socialite to try to cleanse the evil from Ravenswood Hollow, before it consumes them all. Will they succeed? And what if this partnership results in feelings for one another that neither can control?
Of course, if none of those appeal feel free to bring your own concepts. I also love combining pairings, settings, and ideas in unique ways, so if you have a weird and wonderful concept, don't be afraid to present it! If you need some inspiration, or would like an idea of the types of things I like to write, here is a list of genres and settings I enjoy that you may peruse for ideas:
Writing Samples for Those Who Would Like Them:
A Friendly Farewell:
I think that just about does it for now! Please PM me if you'd like to write with me, and thank you so much for taking the time to read through this!
Hey, everyone! I'm Bunny - or Moonie, as you prefer - and this is my RT.
I won't bog things down too much with my backstory or overly prosaic posturing, I'll just say I have been writing for a very long time and that I am excited to meet everyone here ♡
So! Let's get to the meat! :D
What I'm Looking for:
- Roughly a 70/30 or 80/20 plot to smut ratio, and a maximum of 50/50:
I'm not here to write straight porn. I like writing smut, but I want the characters to be motivated and I want there to be a story. I would absolutely be fine with a higher plot ratio, or even a story that didn't contain smut at all.
- Someone who understands that quantity =/= quality:
I love a long post, and I often write long replies averaging 300-600 words, but we don't need to be writing a 5 paragraph post every time. Sure, there are times that such length is necessary, but if our characters are alone and having a conversation, there is no reason for each reply to be a huge wall of text. Long story short, post lengths should shift to reflect the needs of the scene and the flow of the moment.
- Someone who enjoys world building:
Pretty self explanatory. I like to create unique and interesting settings for my stories to take place in, and it's always fun to have a partner who enjoys that too.
- Someone who writes in the third person:
This is non-negotiable
- A reasonable grasp of English grammar. I totally understand that some people are not native speakers and that typos happen even to those who are. I just ask that a post be legible and easily understood. I will be checking myself as well, of course! No one likes a hypocrite :P
- Original settings and characters:
I don't do fandom rps of any kind, because I find using an exisiting universe very limiting.
Plots and Settings:
As a general rule I like to really hash out details and plot lines with my partners. The ideas listed here are just going to be loose skeletons of the concepts as well as a list of tropes I enjoy, with the intention that details would be filled in when you and I go to set it up.
I have been craving Horror, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, and Supernatural creatures more strongly than just about anything else lately. Here are a few plots concepts in particular that I have been stewing on:
1. Duty over Desire: high fantasy, supernatural, court drama, romance
An enemies to lovers arranged marriage story. Preferably between two Supernatural creatures or a Supernatural creature and a human. They don't get along at all, despite a mutual physical attraction neither one would cop to, but their union will end a war that has raged between their cultures for an extended period of time and they have no choice. This would focus on the romance, court drama/schemes, and politics.
2. The Sorceress and the Princess: high fantasy, fantasy adventure, romance
The genders here don't actually matter, it was just initially envisioned as an FxF plot. The loose concept is that the royal's kingdom and their family are being ravaged by a deadly disease, the cure of which is in the untamed magic wilds of the land. The last healthy royal and their court sorcerer(ess)/childhood friend travel this dangerous road together to get the cure. The pair realize during their journey that they might actually be in love with one another, rather than just best friends.
3. Ravenswood Hollow: historical fiction, supernatural horror, romance
I am in the Halloween spirit right now, and I would love to play out a historical fiction horror inspired by Sleepy Hollow! A school teacher moves to a small town in the rural countryside in the late 1700's/early 1800's to escape from the pain of a recent after a family tragedy. At first, this place seems quaint and lovely - if a little backward - and the school teacher believes they will be able to find a community there, despite not quite fitting in to the local culture. The townsfolk are superstitious, and though friendly, they are slow to truly warm to strangers. With the school teacher being a very rational person, they often find themselves clashing with some of the locals, but their more logical approach to life manages to catch the eye of one member of the community. This individual is the only child of the wealthiest farmer in the village, and thus they are considered the most eligible bachelor(ette) in town. Despite this, they have always kept their suitors at arm's length, because they have a much deeper connection to the spiritual happenings of the town than most. They can see and hear what others cannot, but they can't control it, nor can they easily interpret what they are seeing. This brings them to the teacher, who at first dismisses them until they finally see the ghost themself. From there, the teacher becomes obsessed with finding out as much as they can about the spirit, and they band together with the socialite to try to cleanse the evil from Ravenswood Hollow, before it consumes them all. Will they succeed? And what if this partnership results in feelings for one another that neither can control?
Of course, if none of those appeal feel free to bring your own concepts. I also love combining pairings, settings, and ideas in unique ways, so if you have a weird and wonderful concept, don't be afraid to present it! If you need some inspiration, or would like an idea of the types of things I like to write, here is a list of genres and settings I enjoy that you may peruse for ideas:
- Fantasy; high, urban, dark, fairytale reimaginings, etc.
- SciFi; pulp, space opera, hard science fiction, cyberpunk, etc.
- Supernatural; vampires, werewolves, witches, demons, monsters, folklore, etc.
- Historical Fiction; wild west, Edwardian, Victorian, medieval, Greco-Roman, etc.
- Horror; gothic, psychological, body, supernatural, liminal, thriller, etc.
Writing Samples for Those Who Would Like Them:
Senator Hayes’ office was the same as it always had been: clean, geometric, sterile, and professional. The man had despised unnecessary ornamentation for as long as Lystra could remember, and that tendency was at its strongest in any of his working spaces. He'd always said that austerity bred dedication and helped one avoid distraction. Lys couldn't say she disagreed with him, but a part of her desperately wished he'd hung some sort of art in there. Waiting was torture when she was as anxious as she was that morning, and it would have been nice to have something to look at. As it was, she was being left to her thoughts and it was taking all of her considerable self control not to get lost in a daydream or begin fiddling with her mother's locket. Both options would have led to being scolded, and Lys wasn't interested in disappointing him this early on… or at all for that matter.
Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly fool her father for long. His eyes were on her, and she knew the look in them all too well. He was suspicious. Ambrose had always had a way of seeing into the core of her being, even if no one else would have been able to get past the mask she wore, and the moment he had noticed the tension in her jaw it was too late.
“You're nervous, Lystra. It's unbecoming,” he said coolly before taking a sip of his coffee - black of course, because cream and sugar were for those who were too weak to be drinking the stuff in the first place.
Lys nearly winced, but she managed to hold the expression at bay. Instead, she simply nodded and looked down at her hands in shame.
“I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying to keep myself under control, but I can't help-”
“You can help it, you're just choosing not to. If you don't get a hold of yourself before Dysana’s representatives arrive they'll notice. They're shrewd and they are likely to be augmented,” he snapped before setting down his mug, “Look at me. Now.”
She took a deep breath and lifted her head to meet his gaze again despite the fact that she didn't exactly want to.
“You're right, sir. I'm sorry.”
“That's my girl. No daughter of mine will be a shrinking violet, least of all when she is about to be sent out for the most critically important mission in her career,” he continued, “Now relax your jaw and stop fiddling with your blouse. I hear them coming.”
Lystra's hand left her sleeve so quickly that one might have thought the soft white cotton had burned her. She hadn't even noticed she had been messing with it, and the embarrassment over being caught like that would have been enough to warm her cheeks had she not spent fifteen years gaining control of even the most minute and involuntary expressions. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as she focused in on her heart beat, until it had left the uneven canter and settled into a far more reasonable trot.
By the time she could hear what her father already had picked up on with the aid of his cybernetically enhanced hearing - two men on their way down the hall: one with a heavy tread and both with unfamiliar gates - her mask had become impenetrable once more, even if she was still incredibly nervous. Lys decided that would have to do for the time being, because there was no way she'd actually manage to suppress her fear completely. Today was the beginning of a truly massive undertaking, and she couldn't stop herself from being worried she'd mess it up somehow. In the hopes that she might maintain at least some modicum of the control she'd wrangled - and more importantly avoid being startled by their knocking when they reached the door - she began counting the men’s steps as they approached. Much to her delight the effort paid off, and she didn't jump when three short raps against the wood announced their arrival.
“Come on in, gentlemen! I have prepared chairs for you,” Ambrose called in his best approximation of a friendly tone. It was more politely cold than anything, but that was how he would have preferred to be seen regardless. As far as he was concerned a warm welcome was unprofessional at the best of times, and these were decidedly not the best of times.
Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly fool her father for long. His eyes were on her, and she knew the look in them all too well. He was suspicious. Ambrose had always had a way of seeing into the core of her being, even if no one else would have been able to get past the mask she wore, and the moment he had noticed the tension in her jaw it was too late.
“You're nervous, Lystra. It's unbecoming,” he said coolly before taking a sip of his coffee - black of course, because cream and sugar were for those who were too weak to be drinking the stuff in the first place.
Lys nearly winced, but she managed to hold the expression at bay. Instead, she simply nodded and looked down at her hands in shame.
“I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying to keep myself under control, but I can't help-”
“You can help it, you're just choosing not to. If you don't get a hold of yourself before Dysana’s representatives arrive they'll notice. They're shrewd and they are likely to be augmented,” he snapped before setting down his mug, “Look at me. Now.”
She took a deep breath and lifted her head to meet his gaze again despite the fact that she didn't exactly want to.
“You're right, sir. I'm sorry.”
“That's my girl. No daughter of mine will be a shrinking violet, least of all when she is about to be sent out for the most critically important mission in her career,” he continued, “Now relax your jaw and stop fiddling with your blouse. I hear them coming.”
Lystra's hand left her sleeve so quickly that one might have thought the soft white cotton had burned her. She hadn't even noticed she had been messing with it, and the embarrassment over being caught like that would have been enough to warm her cheeks had she not spent fifteen years gaining control of even the most minute and involuntary expressions. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as she focused in on her heart beat, until it had left the uneven canter and settled into a far more reasonable trot.
By the time she could hear what her father already had picked up on with the aid of his cybernetically enhanced hearing - two men on their way down the hall: one with a heavy tread and both with unfamiliar gates - her mask had become impenetrable once more, even if she was still incredibly nervous. Lys decided that would have to do for the time being, because there was no way she'd actually manage to suppress her fear completely. Today was the beginning of a truly massive undertaking, and she couldn't stop herself from being worried she'd mess it up somehow. In the hopes that she might maintain at least some modicum of the control she'd wrangled - and more importantly avoid being startled by their knocking when they reached the door - she began counting the men’s steps as they approached. Much to her delight the effort paid off, and she didn't jump when three short raps against the wood announced their arrival.
“Come on in, gentlemen! I have prepared chairs for you,” Ambrose called in his best approximation of a friendly tone. It was more politely cold than anything, but that was how he would have preferred to be seen regardless. As far as he was concerned a warm welcome was unprofessional at the best of times, and these were decidedly not the best of times.
"This is gonna be weird on so many levels, even beyond just having to sleep outside in a tent. Like… have you even seen Alex since we graduated? I don't think I have, at least not up close. Do you think he can actually shoot a… I don't know a deer? What are we even looking for? Sylvie? Sylvie, are you listening?"
"Yeah… I'm listening…" unfortunately, but that part went unsaid.
Victoria hadn't shut her mouth since she'd come parading down to the central courtyard in her best approximation of hiking gear nearly 15 minutes ago, and the tiny STEM major was sick of all the rambling. Sure, she'd always liked Tori - the girl was tooth achingly sweet, even when she was surrounded by people far cruller - but this was getting pretty fucking ridiculous.
"Good! I was worried there for a second, cause like, I know you don't talk much and I don't want to rain all over your parade or zest your zucchini or… or whatever people say when they mean annoy."
"You don't zest zucchini," Sylvie replied with a sigh, "That's not a thing."
"What?" Tori said, her blonde brows knitting over her eyes as confusion overtook the giddy excitement she'd worn before.
"That's like… not an idiom… or a thing you can do. You can skin a zucchini, you can zest a lemon, but you don't zest a zucchini. Their skins are bitter."
"Oh, fiddlesticks. You know what I mean. If anything, that makes it better, because the point was for it to be unpleasant anyway," Victoria replied with a sniff, "When do you think the ROTC kids will show up?"
"Whenever they roll their asses out of bed. They're useless without someone to bark orders at them," Sylvie grumbled under her breath.
"What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said. You speak like… super quietly, did you know that?"
Sylvie let out a long suffering sigh and then straightened up from the nervous hunch she had settled into - her hands buried in her sweatshirt pockets and her head bowed - to look at Victoria directly while she spoke, "Sorry. Force of habit. They'll be here soon, I hope. Lord knows most of these groups would be lost without them, so we can't exactly leave until they get here," 90% of these bozos couldn't find North if Chris Cringle himself was guiding them, but that was neither here nor there.
Tori giggled and nodded, that infectious enthusiasm reigniting in her crystalline blue eyes once more, "Well It's good that I'm not in charge, because I've like… never even held a compass. Honestly, I'll be proud of myself if I can make it there and back and set up the tent without like… freaking out or breaking a nail."
If she wasn't so fuckin' cute, that statement might have really gotten under Sylvie's skin. As it was, she just shook her head, "You know what Tori, so long as you stay out of the way of the guns and help me set up the tent I'll be glad to have had you there. Okay?"
"Okay! Sounds like a plan, Stan!"
"Yeah… I'm listening…" unfortunately, but that part went unsaid.
Victoria hadn't shut her mouth since she'd come parading down to the central courtyard in her best approximation of hiking gear nearly 15 minutes ago, and the tiny STEM major was sick of all the rambling. Sure, she'd always liked Tori - the girl was tooth achingly sweet, even when she was surrounded by people far cruller - but this was getting pretty fucking ridiculous.
"Good! I was worried there for a second, cause like, I know you don't talk much and I don't want to rain all over your parade or zest your zucchini or… or whatever people say when they mean annoy."
"You don't zest zucchini," Sylvie replied with a sigh, "That's not a thing."
"What?" Tori said, her blonde brows knitting over her eyes as confusion overtook the giddy excitement she'd worn before.
"That's like… not an idiom… or a thing you can do. You can skin a zucchini, you can zest a lemon, but you don't zest a zucchini. Their skins are bitter."
"Oh, fiddlesticks. You know what I mean. If anything, that makes it better, because the point was for it to be unpleasant anyway," Victoria replied with a sniff, "When do you think the ROTC kids will show up?"
"Whenever they roll their asses out of bed. They're useless without someone to bark orders at them," Sylvie grumbled under her breath.
"What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said. You speak like… super quietly, did you know that?"
Sylvie let out a long suffering sigh and then straightened up from the nervous hunch she had settled into - her hands buried in her sweatshirt pockets and her head bowed - to look at Victoria directly while she spoke, "Sorry. Force of habit. They'll be here soon, I hope. Lord knows most of these groups would be lost without them, so we can't exactly leave until they get here," 90% of these bozos couldn't find North if Chris Cringle himself was guiding them, but that was neither here nor there.
Tori giggled and nodded, that infectious enthusiasm reigniting in her crystalline blue eyes once more, "Well It's good that I'm not in charge, because I've like… never even held a compass. Honestly, I'll be proud of myself if I can make it there and back and set up the tent without like… freaking out or breaking a nail."
If she wasn't so fuckin' cute, that statement might have really gotten under Sylvie's skin. As it was, she just shook her head, "You know what Tori, so long as you stay out of the way of the guns and help me set up the tent I'll be glad to have had you there. Okay?"
"Okay! Sounds like a plan, Stan!"
The moon was low in the dark velvet sky, and Mrs. Foster's house was perched at the end of the street like a carrion bird on a fence post. Its windows were its eyes, looking out over the cracked and desolate pavement and into the woods beyond as the forest beckoned the pretty brunette into the shadows. The trees were teeth and lure all at once, and their needle-like arms scraped the sky in a twisted smile as their leaves danced. Each gentle gust of wind that caressed them was a boon as they tempted their unsuspecting prey into the monster's maw and down its gullet. Beyond, the dark waters of Mirror Lake sang their siren song with a chorus of spirits, each enticing in their own voice. Cassandra could hear them. The scrying mirrors were ringing out in the humid breeze like bells, and she could see lanky shadows peering out from the deepest parts of the woods as the stranger approached them.
“Don't!” Cas screamed, tearing off of her own porch in a wild dash to catch the girl before she vanished.
The cry was lost in the choir, though, and the girl didn't change course. She simply kept walking forward, until she had let the darkness swallow her. By the time Cas had reached the place she had once stood, her form was completely indistinguishable from the shadows.
It was far too late.
Cas woke with a start, shaking and dripping in sweat. The ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and the early morning light was spilling over the dark wood floors and intricately patterned rugs in her room just as it always did, but even that shred of normalcy wasn't enough to comfort her. Sure, she was used to having nightmares - they had become some of her dearest friends over the last 12 years - but that didn't mean she had ever really gotten used to the sick, slithering anxiety that came when she knew that what she'd seen was of critical importance.
From that point on, nothing about the day had felt right. She did her best to pretend of course, and in turning to the comfort of her morning routine she was able to gather herself into some semblance of a human being. Hell, Cas even managed to get Sacred Visions open on time despite everything! Even so, though, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering. It was very slow at the apothecary - it was past two and she'd only had three people come in since she'd unlocked the door at nine thirty - so she'd had far more time to dwell on it than she might have liked.
Echo following at her heels all day as she puttered about making poultices and incense didn't help things either. That cat only got clingy when whatever vision had plagued her was coming up faster than she could prepare for, and that day she was practically attached at Cassandra's hip. All in all, despite the fact that it was an uncharacteristically pretty spring day, Cas was not doing well.
She closed up shop at precisely five thirty, just like always, but her anxiety compelled her to linger in the lower level of the house far past the departure of her final customer. She simply couldn't bring herself to turn in for the night until the sun had set. She had to confirm that there wasn't some hapless stranger about to submit to the whims of the woods that choked their dying town before she could even dream of heading up to her apartment on the second floor. Cas had found ways to stall for time, at least, so she couldn't say that her dallying had been boring. By the time the shadows had begun to deepen, she had packaged every concoction she’d been putting off dealing with, swept the floors, dusted every dark corner, and even reorganized her herb cabinet. From there, all that was left to do was sit in her rocking chair with a bottle of coke and a cigarette and keep an eye on the trees until the moon had fully crested them.
Echo seemed to be all in on the plan too, as she was waiting by the door when Cas got there. She leaned down to stroke her head, but the cat dodged away and reared up to scratch at the door, letting out a nervous peep. Her behavior immediately put a pit in Cassandra's stomach, but she took the hint for what it was and stepped out into the evening breeze.
At first, there was nothing to see but the trash tumbling along the gutters in the wind and the occasional stray animal darting between the abandoned houses. Cas almost managed to convince herself that everything would be fine. She settled into her chair, lit her smoke, and began to rock while Echo sat on the stairs, staring out into the woods with every hair on her little black body standing on end. Cassandra tried to ignore her familiar’s fear and relax after a long day of worrying, but any hope for peace was dashed when she noticed a blue Chevy with Texas plates parked out in front of Old Lady Foster’s place
Fuck.
She took a nervous sip of her root beer, hoping she might use its cool sweetness to swallow back the bile building in her throat. It didn't really help though, because the wind was picking up. The gusts were playing in her hair and catching sparks off the lit end of her cigarette, and the whispering had begun in earnest. Sure, that was normal to some degree, but the frantic tone of the voices was not, and Cas knew in her heart of hearts that Our Lady of Seven Sorrows would be glowing red if she could see it from her porch.
When Mrs. Foster’s door opened, she flinched. She'd been listening to the night so intently that the sound had been akin to a gunshot, and it immediately drew her to her feet. Cas was only vaguely aware of the fact that Echo was growling now, because she was too busy watching in abject horror as a girl - no, the girl - stepped out of the house and made a b-line for what Cassandra presumed to be her car. When the stranger pulled a duffle bag from the cab, a part of her was relieved that she'd only left to complete a task and the rest of her was cursing the poor ignorant thing for waiting until sunset to do it.
“Okay,” she whispered as she watched her, “Get your stuff and go back inside, little girl. Get your stuff, and then Go. Back. In.”
It was a long shot, but one could forgive a girl for hoping.
For a second, Cas thought she might actually do it too, because the stranger did start making her way back up to the house… and then she stopped in her tracks and turned her attention to the trees looming just beyond the safety of the late Old Lady Foster’s yard. Cassandra thought she was going to be sick.
“Don't follow it. There’s nothing for you there. Shrug it off and go inside. Please shrug it off and-”
But then the girl began to do exactly the opposite or what she should be doing and Cas couldn't contain herself any longer. She leaped over the side railing of her porch, landed on the lawn below with a little ‘oof’, and then began booking it down the street in a flurry if black hair and blue fabric. Echo was right there with her, running at pace for a while until she got sick of waiting and streaked out ahead to try to stop the girl herself.
“HEY!” Cas shrieked once she was close enough to be heard, “STOP!”
A few paces more and she was finally able to reach out and grab the woman’s arm. The feeling of her warm and alive under hand was a relief, but it was nowhere near enough to keep her panic under control.
“Don't you dare wander into those woods after dark! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Cas was yelling, but she didn't sound angry. If anything, she sounded terrified.
“Don't!” Cas screamed, tearing off of her own porch in a wild dash to catch the girl before she vanished.
The cry was lost in the choir, though, and the girl didn't change course. She simply kept walking forward, until she had let the darkness swallow her. By the time Cas had reached the place she had once stood, her form was completely indistinguishable from the shadows.
It was far too late.
Cas woke with a start, shaking and dripping in sweat. The ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and the early morning light was spilling over the dark wood floors and intricately patterned rugs in her room just as it always did, but even that shred of normalcy wasn't enough to comfort her. Sure, she was used to having nightmares - they had become some of her dearest friends over the last 12 years - but that didn't mean she had ever really gotten used to the sick, slithering anxiety that came when she knew that what she'd seen was of critical importance.
From that point on, nothing about the day had felt right. She did her best to pretend of course, and in turning to the comfort of her morning routine she was able to gather herself into some semblance of a human being. Hell, Cas even managed to get Sacred Visions open on time despite everything! Even so, though, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering. It was very slow at the apothecary - it was past two and she'd only had three people come in since she'd unlocked the door at nine thirty - so she'd had far more time to dwell on it than she might have liked.
Echo following at her heels all day as she puttered about making poultices and incense didn't help things either. That cat only got clingy when whatever vision had plagued her was coming up faster than she could prepare for, and that day she was practically attached at Cassandra's hip. All in all, despite the fact that it was an uncharacteristically pretty spring day, Cas was not doing well.
She closed up shop at precisely five thirty, just like always, but her anxiety compelled her to linger in the lower level of the house far past the departure of her final customer. She simply couldn't bring herself to turn in for the night until the sun had set. She had to confirm that there wasn't some hapless stranger about to submit to the whims of the woods that choked their dying town before she could even dream of heading up to her apartment on the second floor. Cas had found ways to stall for time, at least, so she couldn't say that her dallying had been boring. By the time the shadows had begun to deepen, she had packaged every concoction she’d been putting off dealing with, swept the floors, dusted every dark corner, and even reorganized her herb cabinet. From there, all that was left to do was sit in her rocking chair with a bottle of coke and a cigarette and keep an eye on the trees until the moon had fully crested them.
Echo seemed to be all in on the plan too, as she was waiting by the door when Cas got there. She leaned down to stroke her head, but the cat dodged away and reared up to scratch at the door, letting out a nervous peep. Her behavior immediately put a pit in Cassandra's stomach, but she took the hint for what it was and stepped out into the evening breeze.
At first, there was nothing to see but the trash tumbling along the gutters in the wind and the occasional stray animal darting between the abandoned houses. Cas almost managed to convince herself that everything would be fine. She settled into her chair, lit her smoke, and began to rock while Echo sat on the stairs, staring out into the woods with every hair on her little black body standing on end. Cassandra tried to ignore her familiar’s fear and relax after a long day of worrying, but any hope for peace was dashed when she noticed a blue Chevy with Texas plates parked out in front of Old Lady Foster’s place
Fuck.
She took a nervous sip of her root beer, hoping she might use its cool sweetness to swallow back the bile building in her throat. It didn't really help though, because the wind was picking up. The gusts were playing in her hair and catching sparks off the lit end of her cigarette, and the whispering had begun in earnest. Sure, that was normal to some degree, but the frantic tone of the voices was not, and Cas knew in her heart of hearts that Our Lady of Seven Sorrows would be glowing red if she could see it from her porch.
When Mrs. Foster’s door opened, she flinched. She'd been listening to the night so intently that the sound had been akin to a gunshot, and it immediately drew her to her feet. Cas was only vaguely aware of the fact that Echo was growling now, because she was too busy watching in abject horror as a girl - no, the girl - stepped out of the house and made a b-line for what Cassandra presumed to be her car. When the stranger pulled a duffle bag from the cab, a part of her was relieved that she'd only left to complete a task and the rest of her was cursing the poor ignorant thing for waiting until sunset to do it.
“Okay,” she whispered as she watched her, “Get your stuff and go back inside, little girl. Get your stuff, and then Go. Back. In.”
It was a long shot, but one could forgive a girl for hoping.
For a second, Cas thought she might actually do it too, because the stranger did start making her way back up to the house… and then she stopped in her tracks and turned her attention to the trees looming just beyond the safety of the late Old Lady Foster’s yard. Cassandra thought she was going to be sick.
“Don't follow it. There’s nothing for you there. Shrug it off and go inside. Please shrug it off and-”
But then the girl began to do exactly the opposite or what she should be doing and Cas couldn't contain herself any longer. She leaped over the side railing of her porch, landed on the lawn below with a little ‘oof’, and then began booking it down the street in a flurry if black hair and blue fabric. Echo was right there with her, running at pace for a while until she got sick of waiting and streaked out ahead to try to stop the girl herself.
“HEY!” Cas shrieked once she was close enough to be heard, “STOP!”
A few paces more and she was finally able to reach out and grab the woman’s arm. The feeling of her warm and alive under hand was a relief, but it was nowhere near enough to keep her panic under control.
“Don't you dare wander into those woods after dark! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Cas was yelling, but she didn't sound angry. If anything, she sounded terrified.
Oberon wasn't sure exactly how long Taya and Elio had been gone anymore. The hours and days spent without them blurred together, marked only by the occasional squabble in one of the four courts and his near constant search for the moon. At this point, the only certainty he had was that he'd be spending hours at a time every day within arms reach of the sea.
Sometimes he ran the coastlines as a wolf, digging his paws into the sand and feeling the salty sea air play in his heavy, black fur, other times he would wander the beach as a man, and on rare occasions he would simply stand on the shore and stare out across the shimmering water. The Starry Sea had been rightly named, and the sight of its churning had always been a stunning one, even if he didn't often spend time admiring it. The water was crystal clear, and every time it moved it flashed with millions of dancing lights. They shifted in color from white to silver and finally to blue as they sparkled in and out of existence, and the lacey fingers that spread over the sand when the breakers finished their journey shoreward glowed with a faint silver light.
Today, he had paused before returning to his mountaintop palace for the evening to admire the sunset in one of his favorite coves: a black sand beach that sat parallel to the largest island in Justice's Teeth. The old god's long hair had been allowed to hang freely around his face, and the ocean breeze was toying in the inky black tresses. He was entirely lost in thought, though, and while having his hair in his eyes might have annoyed him at any other time he hardly noticed it now. One of his thumbs had settled against his lips as he looked out over the roiling waves, and his teeth were gently digging into the pad.
There was still no sign of the moon, and each fruitless loop around his realm seemed to kill a little bit more of his hope that she'd appear. They had well and truly lost her, and he wasn't sure how to break that to the others… especially not to Taya. Poor, sweet Taya… Obe hoped that she was doing well, or at least better than she had been. He might have been content to sit there with not but his mind for company until the moons rose fully over the sea, but something moving in his peripheral vision suddenly broke through the roaring chaos in his mind. Oberon quickly turned his head to find its source. It was a soul no doubt, and if duty called he would not shirk it.
Sometimes he ran the coastlines as a wolf, digging his paws into the sand and feeling the salty sea air play in his heavy, black fur, other times he would wander the beach as a man, and on rare occasions he would simply stand on the shore and stare out across the shimmering water. The Starry Sea had been rightly named, and the sight of its churning had always been a stunning one, even if he didn't often spend time admiring it. The water was crystal clear, and every time it moved it flashed with millions of dancing lights. They shifted in color from white to silver and finally to blue as they sparkled in and out of existence, and the lacey fingers that spread over the sand when the breakers finished their journey shoreward glowed with a faint silver light.
Today, he had paused before returning to his mountaintop palace for the evening to admire the sunset in one of his favorite coves: a black sand beach that sat parallel to the largest island in Justice's Teeth. The old god's long hair had been allowed to hang freely around his face, and the ocean breeze was toying in the inky black tresses. He was entirely lost in thought, though, and while having his hair in his eyes might have annoyed him at any other time he hardly noticed it now. One of his thumbs had settled against his lips as he looked out over the roiling waves, and his teeth were gently digging into the pad.
There was still no sign of the moon, and each fruitless loop around his realm seemed to kill a little bit more of his hope that she'd appear. They had well and truly lost her, and he wasn't sure how to break that to the others… especially not to Taya. Poor, sweet Taya… Obe hoped that she was doing well, or at least better than she had been. He might have been content to sit there with not but his mind for company until the moons rose fully over the sea, but something moving in his peripheral vision suddenly broke through the roaring chaos in his mind. Oberon quickly turned his head to find its source. It was a soul no doubt, and if duty called he would not shirk it.
A Friendly Farewell:
I think that just about does it for now! Please PM me if you'd like to write with me, and thank you so much for taking the time to read through this!
Last edited:
