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12 minutes ago, Wannatripbaby said:

No, Jena is the one who said that Marcel's mistress was cheating on him.

Offhand without relooking, I thought that was Cerise who said that.

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6 minutes ago, ELLIE52 said:

Offhand without relooking, I thought that was Cerise who said that.

Cerise was delivering news from her mother Jana, the seer of the Jade Mask and her father Marcel's true love.

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5 minutes ago, bbykimmy said:

Cerise was delivering news from her mother Jana, the seer of the Jade Mask and her father Marcel's true love.

Thanks for the info.  I'm just going to refer to Jana as his paramour.

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20 hours ago, Hopsalot said:

I love binge reading! By how you’re describing it it’s gonna be awesome! Can you share anything on why it’s different or what it’s gonna be about pleeeeaaassee, or do I have to wait patiently for it to be posted 

I can't, I'm bad at secrets and such - I'll give it away.

Hopefully it's coming in the next week or two.

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Also I have a feeling a certain type of content is coming up real soon. Here's how I see at least part of the next chapter playing out:

-Faye wets the bed, obviously.

-Clair has a PTSD Panic attack thinking she did it.

-Virtually everyone else at the hideout thinks they should put Faye in a diaper and deal with her potty training later.

-Clair balks at the idea with every fiber of her being.

... That's all I got so far. :D

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8 minutes ago, Wannatripbaby said:

Also I have a feeling a certain type of content is coming up real soon. Here's how I see at least part of the next chapter playing out:

-Faye wets the bed, obviously.

-Clair has a PTSD Panic attack thinking she did it.

-Virtually everyone else at the hideout thinks they should put Faye in a diaper and deal with her potty training later.

-Clair balks at the idea with every fiber of her being.

... That's all I got so far. :D

YAY PREDICTIONS

I love predictions <3

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7 minutes ago, bbykimmy said:

YAY PREDICTIONS

I love predictions ❤️

Here's another one for you:

I predict that if there isn't at least one Necromancer who constantly makes corny death puns I will be Gravely disappointed. :D

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5 minutes ago, Wannatripbaby said:

Here's another one for you:

I predict that if there isn't at least one Necromancer who constantly makes corny death puns I will be Gravely disappointed. :D

Necromancy's such a dirty word, Trip.  You're totally misrepresenting the Thanatos with your obvious prejudice :P

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7 minutes ago, bbykimmy said:

Necromancy's such a dirty word, Trip.  You're totally misrepresenting the Thanatos with your obvious prejudice :P

Hey, no prejudice here! I have no problem with any man or woman just trying to Raise a family in peace. :P

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So there's a lot about witch taboos in this chapter.

It's taboo for witches to deal with life essences.

It's also taboo for witches to reproduce with other witches, as it tends to leave the offspring...different.  This is an interesting in story reason for why Witches still mingle with humans, even if now in the world it's a matter of subservience.  They require humans to breed, and thus despite their feelings of superiority are dependent on them.

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22 minutes ago, Personalias said:

It's also taboo for witches to reproduce with other witches, as it tends to leave the offspring...different.  This is an interesting in story reason for why Witches still mingle with humans, even if now in the world it's a matter of subservience.  They require humans to breed, and thus despite their feelings of superiority are dependent on them.

It's also the natural of the relationship between Women and Men. Aside from making babies, they don't really need us for much! ?

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3 hours ago, Wannatripbaby said:

It's also the natural of the relationship between Women and Men. Aside from making babies, they don't really need us for much! ?

There are male witches though - the most powerful witch in the world (according to the characters in the story so far) is Marcel Dubois, Blue Witch of Apex - and we saw that he's quite the active guy.

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6 hours ago, bbykimmy said:

There are male witches though - the most powerful witch in the world (according to the characters in the story so far) is Marcel Dubois, Blue Witch of Apex - and we saw that he's quite the active guy.

I know. I was making a joke by drawing a parallel between Personalias' description of the relationship between Witches and Humans with Women and Men in our modern culture.

It wasn't quite as hilarious as I had hoped. :unsure:

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Chapter Eleven

Claire woke slowly but sat bolt upright the moment she felt the wetness in her bed.

"No," she gasped, peeling the blankets back.  "No!"

The bed was soaked, her own nightgown was soaked, she'd had a nighttime accident, the first one in months.  Then she remembered Faye... who was missing.  Her bladder ached - if she’d had an accident, she wouldn't need to go now.

"Oh thank goodness," she breathed, climbing out of bed and stripping off her nightgown with a grimace.  She wrapped a robe around herself and ran to the bathroom, past Sal sitting at the table with the new girl.

"You're not going to make it," Andrew called after her.

"Fuck off," she snarled, slamming the bathroom door behind her and throwing her robe down, rushing for the toilet.

Ugh, she groaned, why is Andrew even here, he's such an asshole.

She made it, that's what mattered.  She flushed and washed her hands, letting out a huge sigh of relief.  She pulled the robe back on and began the trudge back to her room - she had sheets to change.

"I'm surprised you didn't just go in your bed," Andrew was looming over her when she opened the door.  "You already woke up in a puddle of piss from your little friend, why bother running for the toilet?"

"Fuck off," Claire growled, trying to push past him.  He stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Oh sweet pet," he cooed, his voice soft and comforting.  "Be a good girl and sit down."

Claire felt the trigger, felt her body obey as she sat down in the middle of the hallway.  Her eyes widened and the tears began to spill over.

"It's okay to cry," Andrew said soothingly, "You're just a baby, after all."  Claire broke down sobbing at that, unable to even stand, held in the throes of the conditioning she was still trying to erase from her mind.

Out of nowhere, Andrew was slammed into the wall, Oliver's forearm pressed to the swarthy man's throat.

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, Andrew," Oliver growled, towering over the pureblood human.  "But it is not acceptable."

"Sorry," Andrew choked, "Sorry boss - it was just a joke."

"If you're the only one laughing," Oliver said in a low tone, "it's not a joke.  It's cruelty."  He increased the pressure for just a moment before releasing his Armorer.  Oliver, with his close cropped blonde hair smelling faintly of cloves, his ice blue eyes kind as he leaned down and lifted Claire, holding her close.  "Shh," he soothed.  "I'm sorry that happened to you.  You're an adult, you're free, you're not a Familiar."

"Put me down," Claire croaked, wiping furiously at her eyes.  "Put me down!"

Oliver set her on her feet gently, looking down at her sadly.

"Sorry Claire," he whispered, "Just trying to help."

"Cuddling me like a fucking Familiar isn't helping, Ollie," she snapped, blushing.  "That's what she always did.  But... thanks for the save.  Andrew... " she glared at the man's back as he retreated down the hall, "stay the fuck away from me.  And Faye!"

"Faye?" Oliver asked, puzzled.

"The new girl - the one Rachel rescued."

"Where is our resident badass?" Oliver asked.  "I need to find out exactly what happened at the Tower.  I love her for what happened, but the heat is on up there.  I need everything she has."

"Oscar took her for a ride - she came back with a broken leg," Claire said as she headed back for her room.

"Tell her I'm looking for her.  Tell her it's important."

"Sure thing, boss."

*     *     *

Aurora felt like she had stepped through some kind of time travel portal. One moment she was standing in the middle of a dreary, frightening hallway and the next it was as if she'd appeared seventy years in the past. The door closed behind her and Aurora desperately tried not to boggle at the pristine ‘50s living room she now stood in. The walls were a pale yellow and decorated with art deco diamonds; the television in the corner was a console model, rounded corners and all; the floors were painted linoleum; the angle-legged, mid-century modern teal furniture was like something out of an old magazine, all the fabric covered in clear plastic; and even the curtains were pleasantly busy, hanging around a mural of a window painted on the wall, depicting a pleasant outdoor barbecue scene, complete with lush, perfectly mown grass.

Aurora swallowed thickly. There was no one in sight.

"Hello dear," murmured a voice at her shoulder and it took everything Aurora had not to yelp and jump away. Where in the hell had she come from?! Aurora was less than a foot into the room, how had anyone gotten behind her?

There was a light step and the Witch - the Black Witch of Thanatos - slipped fully into the room. Aurora did her best not to gape. The Black Witch was a woman - well, appeared to be a woman - in her early forties. Her honey-colored coiffe was streaked with a few strands of white, barely noticeable against the warm blonde, and her eyes held a few soft crows feet in the corners, a few smile lines in the corners of her mouth. She looked - like her apartment - as if she'd stepped out of a portal to the past. She wore a blue-and-white polka dotted dress caught around her waist with a small, ruffled apron, a lovely strand of pearls around hung her neck, and when she walked her low heels clicked confidently across the linoleum.

"Sit here, dear," she ordered, passing the couch and gently tapping the back. "I'll bring the tea."

Aurora, unnerved, did as the Black Witch ordered. The plastic squeaked unpleasantly as she sat, the sweat on the back of her thighs sliding across the cold covering. The Black Witch returned a few minutes later, a melamine tray gripped in her hands. Neatly centered on a large, lacy doily sat two bone-china cups upside down on their saucers, two small plates along with a small platter of finger sandwiches, a bowl of sugar cubes, two spoons, and a minuscule pitcher of cream.

The Black Witch worked efficiently, flipping cups, asking how Aurora preferred her tea (she didn't, but she'd be damned if she told the Black Fucking Witch that), and expertly served the tea and the finger foods before settling elegantly on the couch beside the younger witch. Her cool blue eyes regarded Aurora evenly.

I can't see a single black mark on her, Aurora realized suddenly, wondering if she'd fallen into some kind of trap. Not one.

"I, of course, offer my condolences regarding your coven and Mistress. I assume," the Black Witch began after they'd sipped their tea in silence a moment, "that you are here about resurrecting your Familiar?"

Aurora's blood ran cold in her veins.  How does she know?

"I wouldn't want my beloved Mia to be reanimated," she smiled sadly, "No offense," she nodded at the obviously reanimated cat that laid on the floor in the corner.  "I tried to save her", she stared at the Deathmark on her hand before taking a long sip of the tea, "but I failed."

"Shame," the Black Witch said, "she was a lovely Familiar. The very best genetics; I have a cousin who monitors Little bloodlines - your Familiar's line is exquisite." She took a sip of her tea. "Well then, if you're not here for us to bring back your Familiar - we can repair most of the damage to her flesh, I assure you - then to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was surprised to learn that your people are looking into what happened," Aurora answered, with a casualness she didn't feel. "I am Anomic now, Your Grace.  I seek asylum, to join your coven.  I need help... I need vengeance on the one who did this, and I may yet have pull with the Winchester survivors."  Her heart pounded.  This was everything.  If the Black Witch turned her away, she had nothing.  She didn't have the resources to pursue the saboteur who had cost her everything.  She needed Thanatos for her vendetta.

The Black Witch raised an eyebrow. "You don't wish to resurrect your pet but you wish to join my clan? Doesn't that seem... a poor fit to you?"

"Her body is gone," Aurora said sadly, clenching her Deathmarked hand.  "I don't know how to be delicate with the lifeforce... the spell didn't end well."  She sighed.  How do I tell the Black Witch that she's my only hope without insulting her?  No other coven will take me now... how did she get rid of her Deathmark?  "I do not wish to be Anomic, Your Grace... I will never get revenge alone.  It may not be the best fit, but I can learn your ways and... " she swallowed hard, this was a big gamble.  "I can share the spells of the Winchester."

It was unheard of.  One did not share the secrets of their coven, it was a death sentence.  No coven would protect a spell-traitor.  But a coven hadn't gone extinct in living memory... she just hoped that the Winchester coven stayed dead.

"Tempting," the Black Witch murmured, apparently turning over Aurora’s treasonous offer to hand over the blood-magic of generations, an act that would make her the instant enemy of every living Winchester. "To offer to turn spell-traitor for simple revenge... that is a most unusual offer indeed."

Slowly she set down her cup and regarded Aurora steadily, lips pursing. "You will begin at the bottom," she said at last. "At the very bottom."

"I have information," Aurora said, hating the idea of starting at the bottom again.  She had been only a few steps from the top of Winchester.  "Winchester Tower exploded from unknown magics, and I got a look at the culprit and a borrowed Familiar."

"Is that so?" the Black Witch asked softly. "Please, do continue."

Sarah Trippoli had been an intense woman.  Terrifying, powerful, magic crackling in her every word and movement.  The Winchester elite had been terrified of her, they obeyed as much out of fear as they did loyalty to their bloodline.  But Aurora would gladly trade the powerful intimidation of the White Witch of Winchester for the eerie presence of the Black Witch of Thanatos.  No one knew how old the leader of the coven was, no one knew how often the leadership changed hands... she could have been ruling for a year or a century, the Thanatos were so insular, shunned.

A chill went down Aurora's spine - the Black Witch's power was subtle, not like Sarah's.  She understood now why people got nervous when the Black Witch was interested in something.  The woman was unreadable... Aurora was ready to deal with some skull-wearing necromantic maniac, not this overtly kind fifties housewife who was hiding who-knew-what evil behind those eyes.

"Winchester Tower was invaded last night, a lone intruder.  My people had an ambush set up for her at the exit... I was on the twelfth floor when the magic detonated.  Several floors were simply disintegrated, the entire structure collapsed.  My Familiar was thrown from the building.  As I rushed her to help - worthless human medics who couldn't save her, I spied a woman, red-haired, human height, carrying a blonde Familiar covered in Witch blood and ash from the wreckage.  Our intruder was likely a Witch-blooded minion of another coven, I don't know which - but there was a magic about that Familiar that was... different.  She was likely carrying some relic or enchantment for the saboteur.  Either way, those two cost me my beloved pet, my position, my sisters... everything.  Your Grace, I humbly request resources to hunt them."  Which I can't do from the very bottom.

Aurora needed the freedom afforded to her as a Lieutenant of the Winchester coven and the protection of the Thanatos.  She would find that Hunter… and she would make the bitch eat her own intestines.

"Patience is the primary virtue prized in my family," the Black Witch said. "In our family. Along with, as I'm sure you've realized, a strong constitution in regards to morbidity. You have made your desires quite clear, dear." Dusting her hands together, she rose, and picked up the tray. "I will give you a day to reconsider. Five pm tomorrow night, should you still wish to join the Thanatos, present yourself upstairs. Your initiation into my clan will begin precisely at six. Do not be late. I abhor tardiness. It is rude." She clicked into the kitchenette past the living room and Aurora nervously rose and followed her. There she found even more fifties-style decorating - a round, metal table, diner-type chairs, and even a tiny transistor radio in another fake windowsill. This one looked out onto a painted front yard, complete with an older rag-top convertible. 

"Pass me the cup, dear, please," the Black Witch murmured, stoppering the sink, squirting some yellow dish soap into the basin, and sliding on a pair of bright pink dishwashing gloves. "I assume that all your belongings were in the Ivory Tower?"

"No, Your Grace," Aurora answered, passing the requested cup...

Is she going to wash her own dishes?  Why doesn't she have a minion for this?  A skeleton?  Something?  She wondered with horror.  The White Witch would never be seen doing her own menial chores.  She exuded luxury, she reveled in it.  The humility from this woman, this powerhouse, one of the five... four... four most important people in the entire world, it was too much for Aurora to take.

"Please, Your Grace, may I do this chore for you?"  Debasing herself was far preferable to seeing the Black Witch do something so mundane.  Aurora was no stranger to luxury herself, there were many perks that came with being a Lieutenant in the Winchester coven... she hadn't done simple chores like this.. well, ever.  That's what subordinates were for, and the lowest Witch was still above the highest minion.

A very, very long pause as the Black Witch lightly scrubbed the cups, the saucers, the plate, and spoons. She rinsed them in the cool water and said, simply, "Please dry them."

Aurora, flushing, did so and when she was done the Black Witch picked up one of the spoons and held it up to the light, examining it critically. "You have missed a spot, here," she said, indicating the tiny watermark in the inside curve of the decorative swirl on the handle. "Please buff it."

Confused, Aurora accepted the spoon and did so, wondering what in the hell was going on.

"You'll find," the Black Witch said, "that our particular skill set is very demanding. It requires an exceptional attention to detail, Aurora. Do you believe yourself capable of such detail? We all begin at the bottom, for we all begin blind. It takes time and energy and effort to be able to truly see." She plucked the spoon from Aurora's hand and then, smiling, breathed on it, whispering a word.

After a moment an image appeared in the curve of the silver. It was a jagged image - narrow - and oddly colored.

It was Aurora, standing bloodied outside the wreck of the ambulance, staring at her black hand and crying.

"Rodent nerve clusters, for example," the Black Witch explained very seriously, "require a delicate touch to reconnect. Especially the optic nerves. However, we live in a city. Filled with rats, mice, and more. And dead rodentia can't be killed with rat poison, now can they?"

She plucked the spoon from Aurora's lax fingers and wiped it with a tea towel that had been neatly folded beside the sink. "We all start from the beginning, dear," she repeated, slipping open a drawer and putting away the spoons one at a time. "There is no hubris in my family, for there is no pride. We all end up in the ground eventually, you see. Are you capable of accepting that?" She paused. "If you are, we will work on your observational skills. 'A blonde Familiar'. 'A red-haired woman'. These are descriptors but they are insufficient for our needs. You do see that, correct? When you can see - truly see - you will be able to trace the lines of her sinews and bone with your power, would know that no two bodies are alike. The killer of your Mia would never be able to hide from you again."

"You knew," Aurora gasped, staring at the spoon even as the Black Witch put it away.  Her information was worthless.  The Black Witch knew it all and more... undead rodent spies?  

Why aren't they on top?  she wondered, Information is power and the Black Witch has it all... why is Apex the top coven?  Why was Winchester second... everyone should be bowing to Thanatos.  

"If you already knew... " why did you see me?  Why are you bothering with me?  She stopped the question midstream and asked the more important one:  "Who is she?"

"We're not psychic, dear, just well-informed," the Black Witch said gently. "When you're reviled among even the others of your own kind, it pays to be... observant. Patient. Careful." She smiled warmly. "In more ways than one.

"I couldn't tell you who the Familiar is,” the Black with continued, gently tapping her chin.  “that's something you'll have to ascertain for yourself, seeing as she was in your building and a member of your coven. However, I can tell you that occasionally - very occasionally - we get a glimpse of the other one. She's exquisitely talented in her art, this woman. Careful, canny, and takes very, very few risks. As impeccable as she is, she must be exceptionally expensive. Likely a hitwoman for Apex as, when she shows up, inevitably an enemy of the Apex falls - either immediately through assassination, or later, through a domino effect. Of course, at this point this is merely conjecture. Nothing that would hold up to exactitude and scrutiny."

There was a long, steady moment at the Black Witch regarded Aurora. "I feel that I must make myself perfectly clear: you will be accepted into my family if you so wish, but you must follow our rules. There is little decadence here, Aurora. From the top down, we work hard and study harder. Our studies come first and foremost, our devotion to our art and skillset. We are the clan that works the most closely with humanity and we rarely abuse the privilege. We serve them and they serve us in turn. If a Witch shows promise and a willingness to work, she is accepted on a trial basis. If a family brings us our dead, we purchase the bodies but we also grieve with them. Even if they're human. Especially if they're human. They are the ultimate source, our tools, and a master craftsman does not abuse their tools unless they want their turns to turn in their hand. I hope I am making myself understood? Your revenge will be allowed on the understanding that your studies come first. In return you will eventually be able to exact such perfect vengeance that the Other Place itself will tremble and quake." She smiled thinly. "Revenge is, as they say, a dish best served cold."

"I know every Familiar in the Winchester coven," Aurora objected.  "Familiars aren't particularly well liked in Winchester, I know the few that are kept very well... that girl is not a Winchester."

The Black Witch patted her coiffed hair, smoothing imaginary flyaways, and smiled brilliantly at her. "Then it appears that you have your first clue, doesn't it? A Familiar smuggled into the Winchester building without anyone at all knowing, who was carried out on the wings of an explosion. And oh dear - she doesn’t resemble any of the pedigree bloodlines... where do they come from?"

Aurora's eyes widened. "She was taken?"

"Such a shame there isn't a place where missing persons can be reported," the Black Witch said sadly, shaking her head. "Where humans trained in the art of solving mysteries reside or work."

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22 minutes ago, bbykimmy said:

Chapter Eleven

Not surprising that the most dangerous aren't the obvious mustache twirlers.

 

Also fuck Andrew.

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4 hours ago, YourFNF said:

Not surprising that the most dangerous aren't the obvious mustache twirlers.

 

Also fuck Andrew.

Aww, Andrew's just misunderstood... right?

3 hours ago, Wannatripbaby said:

Well the first part of my prediction was accurate. :D

Also the Black Witch of Thanatos is Doris Day?

That's awesome! She might be my favorite character now! ♡♡♡♡♡

It was and I loved it!  You nailed it with your prediction.

So you're throwing over Tristan for the Black Witch?  I'll pass that on to Kachan - they're both her characters :D

3 hours ago, ELLIE52 said:

The update is leading us on,  Kimmy......  ready for more.

Tomorrow, dear Ellie!  Tomorrow!

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5 minutes ago, bbykimmy said:

So you're throwing over Tristan for the Black Witch?  I'll pass that on to Kachan - they're both her characters 

Yes I am. In fact I might write her into a D&D campaign some day. A Dark, powerful Witch who takes on a completely innocuous persona. But it's not a trick! That's how she actually is!

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Chapter Twelve

Rachel limped through the door in a cast and crutches, expression pained and irritated. Oscar followed her, carrying a brown bag filled with her meds and the instructions on how to handle the next eight-fucking-weeks! Ugh.

Andrew sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of ice water and grimacing, Sal typing rapidly on her laptop across from him. The new girl - Faye, Rachel reminded herself, her name is Faye - was prodding clumsily at a plate of eggs with a fork, grimacing as she managed to stab a fluffy morsel.

"Mornin'!" Oscar called cheerfully. "The boss here?"

"Yeah," Andrew muttered sullenly. "He's here. In with Claire."

Rachel grunted as she flopped onto the only chair left. 

"Tell me we've got bacon," she begged Sal. "Please, Sal. I need fat and salt and pork." Smirking lewdly, Andrew opened his mouth and she didn't even bother to look at him as she pointed a finger in his face. "Don't start with me today, Drew. I will end you with my pinky finger then shove a crutch up your ass."

Faye gaped, mouth open far enough that Rachel could see flecks of egg on her tongue.

"You shouldn't talk like that, Rachel," Faye scolded.  She looked ridiculous with her blonde curls bouncing above her death metal t-shirt.  She was obviously borrowing Claire's clothes, but the ringlets didn't suit the metal-punk aesthetic at all.

"Her hair is enchanted," Sal explained, catching Rachel's quizzical expression.  "It doesn't matter how you wash it or brush it, it springs back to that style."

"Like a doll," Andrew started, but Sal cut him off with a glare.

"You have a hurting leg," Faye observed.

"Yes, I do." Rachel's lips quirked at Claire. "I like that look on you," she said instead, "you're rocking it."  When Sal set a glass of juice in front of her, she gestured to Oscar who chuckled, ripped into the brown bag, and thunked a bottle on the table in front of her. 

"Remember," he said, "Doc said not to overdo it."

"Doc can go screw himself, he’s not even a damn doctor," Rachel replied succinctly, popping the top of the pill bottle with one hand and jittering out a pill into her palm. She downed it with a grimace and a shot of the orange juice, coughing roughly at the end. "I hate friggin pills," she muttered.

"That's probably for the best," Sal replied and poured some eggs from a carton into the pan. Rachel knew she was on hour eighty of no sleep at this point and it was beginning to show in her movements. She'd been chewing at her nails and her lips were chapped and ragged.

"Who's the kid?" Oscar asked, grabbing one of the folding chairs from by the fridge and opening it with a low, rusty squeak. He thunked it at the table next to Faye and gave her a winning, gap-toothed grin. "Don't listen to 'em, kiddo, I like your hair. It's like one of those, whaddya call 'em... springies!"

"Ringlets," Sal corrected, shaking the pan over the heat.

"Ringlets!" he agreed genially.

"Moron," Andrew muttered.

"I prefer to think of myself as Sal-challenged," Oscar protested. "She's the brains, the brains, and the brains and I provide just a bit of brawn. Back-up brawn. Rachel kicks the ass and I look scary. It works."

"I can hear your Whisper," Faye said cryptically to Oscar.  "It doesn't like that one," she pointed at Sal.  "Why is it so mad?"

Several mouths hung agape at the Familiar.

"My.. my what?" Oscar asked, his reddish cheeks coloring black with a blush.  "You mean the oni?  How.. how did you know it doesn't like Sal?"

"Your oni doesn't like me?" Sal asked, offended.  "What did I do?"

"It doesn't matter what it likes," Oscar countered, setting a gentle hand across his lover's fingers.  "It only matters what I want, and I want you."  He looked to Rachel again.  "Spill, Rach - where'd you pick her up?  She's freaking me out."

"I'm sorry," Faye crumpled, tears in her eyes.  "I'm sorry... I'm so stupid."

"Hey," Sal whispered, picking the Familiar up and holding her close.  "It's okay, we talked about this - you're not stupid.  You're a very clever woman.  You're strong and independent, remember?"

"Put her down," Claire's voice cut through the room from the doorway, Oliver stood behind her.  "Don't coddle her!  She's conditioned to need it!  If you keep treating her like a baby, she'll never break free!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," Sal muttered, glancing apologetically at Faye before setting her gently back down in her seat.

Faye's face screwed up in misery and she immediately began crying.

"And this," Claire grumbled, aggravated, "is why you can't baby her! She's not a baby!"

"Claire, Claire, come on," Rachel said, reaching over and spearing a bite of Faye's eggs off her plate and popping them into her mouth. "Even you needed time to come down off the crazy-train. I know you're not remembering it ‘cuz you were way fucked up and drugged to hell and back at the time, but it took weeks for you to let me put you in any bed without sides! Ollie, you remember the cardboard box crib we had to duct-tape together for her? Even Andrew helped - went around town and scrounged every fridge and dryer box he could find."

Faye reached out to Sal, opening and closing her hands as she wailed piteously.

"Please," she begged, "Please.  Up."

"Cripes, Claire," Sal looked at the diminutive woman in the doorway.  "She needs comfort, we can't just let her cry."

"She's not a child," Claire reiterated, stalking over.  She grabbed the other Little by the arms and stared hard-faced at her.  "Faye.  Faye.  Look at me.  You don't need to cry, okay?  You're fine.  No one is mad at you, you don't need anyone's... why are her eyes glowing?"

"Fuck!" Rachel shouted.  "Get down!"

Sal, Oscar, Andrew, and Oliver all dove for the ground while Rachel leapt over the table, coming down on her cast hard and wincing.  She scooped up Faye in her arms and cradled the Familiar, stroking her stomach.

"Pretty pet, pretty pet," Rachel cooed, wanting to cry from the pain in her leg.  "Such a sad girl.  Shh, precious.  Be a good girl, don't cry. There's a good girl."

She started breathing again as the glow faded and Faye calmed down, her thumb going to her mouth.

"Rachel," Claire said darkly, her voice all edge, "That is the fucking opposite of what needs to happen.  She needs tough love!  She need to be- "

"Claire, I love you, but shut up," Rachel groused, sitting down in Faye's chair and cradling the Familiar, whose eyes had drifted closed.  "You almost got us all killed there."

"What?" Claire's shock was palpable.

"What do you mean?" Oscar asked as he helped Sal up from the ground.

"That's what happened to Winchester Tower," Rachel answered gravely.  "A Witch made her mad.  She said 'No' and then everything exploded."

"Great," Andrew groaned.  "A nuclear toddler.  Maybe we should just give her back to the Witches, let them blow themselves up."  Several pairs of eyes turned to glare at him.  "What?  I'm just sayin'.  She was talking earlier about how she wanted to go back to them.  Sal, you heard her."

"That's not what she actually wants," Sal sighed, "That's just the conditioning.  Claire wanted that too, and I swear to the Other Place that if you say she wants a Witch, I will sink you in the floor up to your neck with the amulet you just gave me."

"Buncha fuckin' ingrates," Andrew grumbled.  "I do all this work for you and you're giant assholes to me.  Familiars ain't people, guys.  They were people, they get hollowed out and conditioned.  I know you don't want to hear this, but even now, Claire could be a sleeper- "

"Get out," Rachel cut him off, her eyes narrowed.

"What?  Woman, you ain't even part of this cell, not re-"

"Get out," Rachel repeated, glaring at him openly.

"Ollie," Andrew pleaded, looking to the Witch-blooded leader of the cell.  "Ollie man... "

"You need to go," Oliver frowned, crossing his arms.  "We talked about this.  Claire is one of us whether you like it or not.  She didn't choose to be Transformed any more than Oscar chose to have a demon planted in him or Sal chose to... "  He trailed off, seeing the hurt in Sal's exhausted eyes.  "You're a great Armorer, Drew.  You're really gifted... but you can't deride the team like this.  You can't.  Come back when you're ready to accept that Claire is just as much a member of this cell as you are."

"You can't be serious," Andrew objected.  "Come on, man... "

"Come back when you're ready, Andrew.  Not before."

Andrew, blinking rapidly, pressed his lips together hard and nodded once, spinning on his heel and stalking away. 

 

Sal waited till he was out of the room to murmured to Oliver, "That might've been a huge mistake."

She didn't miss the way her boss's eyes flicked her way, the sad expression turning grim. "He knows which way his fortunes lie. He's letting the past get in the way of his future."

"Yeah, well when you deal with your past on a day-to-day basis, with it staring you in the face every time you enter what's supposed to be your safe space? It's kind of hard to walk away from," she retorted quietly and yawned. Ugh, she was so tired! Still, her record was 105 hours, and she wasn't even close yet. One day, with the right spells, the right artifact, hell, just the right attitude, she hoped to be able to keep her eyes open indefinitely. The longer she lived the less she needed - food, water, interaction... except for sleep. The longer she lived, the more sleep she needed and it was getting worse.

Sal was beginning to worry that one of these days she'd go down for a powernap and never wake up again.

"Thanks," Claire said softly to Ollie and Sal sighed. She felt Oscar's fingers skim the back of her wrist as he reached past her for the pepper she kept on the back of the stove. It was the fancy stuff - a chili blend they'd bought on a rare vacation to Mexico - and he was the only one who could stand it. Well, Sal could eat the damned stuff without it burning out her mouth, but it wasn't pleasing. Everything tasted like dust in her mouth anyway.

Spooning the fluffy eggs onto another plate for Rachel, she banged the plate on the table and dumped the cutlery beside it before, ignoring Claire, scooping up the Familiar - Faye - out of Rachel's arms. "What are we going to do with you?" she asked and was surprised when the tiny woman responded with a tiny purr. "Yeah, yeah, you like physical comfort," she retorted. "We'll get you set up and get you... something. In the meantime, come on." Shifting she moved until Faye was on her back. "It took Claire how long to get her bladder control back?" she asked Rachel who'd, the second Faye was out of her lap, gladly begun tucking into her meal.

"Six months," Rachel muttered around a mouth full of fake-egg. She grimaced at the taste - she always did, only Rachel and Andrew had normal human tastebuds anymore - but ate it without complaining. Rachel complained very little, which was a blessing, considering the amount of bitching Sal was subjected to on a normal day-to-day basis. It was something she appreciated about the Witchhunter - she got in, she got out, she apologized if she fucked up, she did her job, she didn't bitch, and she would absolutely not hesitate to call other people out on their bullshit if she thought they were in the wrong, but she always somehow managed to do it without coming off as a massive asshole.

That said, the most feared Witchhunter in the city wasn't exactly without her own cons. She was hard to get to open up, no matter how often or hard Sal tried. She would rather joke than talk seriously, would rather prep for a mission than take downtime for herself. And Claire came first. Always. If Claire was against something, Rachel rarely, if ever, went opposite that particular flow unless Ollie was the one at loggerheads with Claire. At that point Rachel always stepped back and refused to take sides. 

Not for the first time, Sal wondered what exactly the relationship between their resident Witch-killing contractor and the leader of their cell was. Wherever they stood, it was complicated, that was for sure.

Carrying the Familiar down the hall, Sal made for Claire's room. She'd never seen the small woman act so... aggressively about rehabilitating another Familiar before. They'd had a few pass through their safe-space a time or two but never one that Claire was so instantly protective of. Sal couldn’t blame her - the newbie was innocent enough that she triggered mothering instincts in both herself and Rachel - and both of them had seen some serious shit over the years.

Still, Claire's uncommon aggression seems almost... well, possessive, Sal thought idly. She wondered how long it'd been since Claire had gotten laid. Likely not anytime recently, most people looked askance at starting up a relationship with a Familiar in case their Witch was part of the picture still or they just felt weird romancing someone who'd probably gone through intense trauma. Littles often ended up with Littles, if they even desired that aspect anymore. Many didn't.

But Claire... Sal thought of how the two small women had been curled together in the bed - red and blonde intermixed, breathing evenly and deeply and in tandem. How... insistent Claire had been ever since Rachel had staggered through the door with Faye on her back. Before, she'd have been babying Rachel, but she'd barely given her sister any attention at all since Faye came into their lives.

Odd.

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14 minutes ago, ELLIE52 said:

This story needs more chapters.  However, I'm g;ad to get today's.  Thanks.

I'm glad you're enjoying it!  Sorry I didn't post it earlier.  Tomorrow's is a lot of fun, I can't wait to share it!

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Sal sure is an enigma. Why does her body need more sleep while the other needs fade? Why is she afraid she won't wake up? Tune in next week and maybe we'll get an answer.

Also I loved the part where Faye almost exploded! I could clearly picture Rachel speaking through clenched teeth trying to get everyone to shut up before they all die. ?

And we know what a Whisper is now! It's the word for a magical spirit like a demon or angel or whatever that occupies the soul of a human. But why is Faye the only one who uses that term?

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1 hour ago, Wannatripbaby said:

Sal sure is an enigma. Why does her body need more sleep while the other needs fade? Why is she afraid she won't wake up? Tune in next week and maybe we'll get an answer.

Also I loved the part where Faye almost exploded! I could clearly picture Rachel speaking through clenched teeth trying to get everyone to shut up before they all die. ?

And we know what a Whisper is now! It's the word for a magical spirit like a demon or angel or whatever that occupies the soul of a human. But why is Faye the only one who uses that term?

Great questions!  <3 <3 <3

What do you think the answers are?

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