Author: sethron

‘You aren’t going without protection!’ Oh, normally she would listen.

Stay behind. Wait. It’s dangerous. Don’t go there.

But they were going, somewhere dangerous, somewhere she couldn’t get them if they fell. Lysenna, Isabel, Sophie, Lunette–all of them. And he was going there. And she couldn’t explain exactly how he couldn’t go there. Exactly why he shouldn’t go there. She had to be there, or else she couldn’t interfere.

‘I’ll be fine, even without protections. Lysenna said it would maim me or harm my mind, and I’m prepared for that. We’ll be fine.’

So she followed.

Alphonse couldn’t protect the Veneaux–he’d leave Lysenna unprotected. She convinced him to protect Lysenna. She thought about making him protect her, but it felt.. Weird. Weird to force that on him. She’d be fine.

It wasn’t fine.

The moment they walked through, it was everything they’d said in the worst case scenarios. She’d never felt this before. She’d always been too strong. Not this time. Her heart slowed, her breath barely came to her lungs, and she knew she’d be gone afterwards. She stood, outside her body, staring at it as it stopped moving, like a doll, and she looked forward as things converged upon Sophie and Lunette and Isabel, and she looked down at her body and willed it to move.

It lurched. At first, completely gracelessly.

‘It will be fine.’ she thought again, ‘This is frightening, but it will be fine–let’s figure it out now and worry about later later.’

Another step, a shuffling. Forward. And another. With each it got a little easier to puppet the body she wasn’t inside. Sing, now. Open your mouth and sing.

Something grabbed the lifeless corpse. It stared at her and spoke in nightmare tones. Shadows erupted from her hair and pushed it away. She felt warm, protected. ‘Thank you,’ she tried to say to them, but the cacophony of sounds and the separation from her body prevented the communication.

Keep singing. Keep moving forward. A tendril came up from behind; and Hugo slammed into it like a beast tearing through a meal. They swarmed on the back, on everyone there, and Hugo broke them apart, taking injuries and shuffling off their attacks. It wasn’t until one reached out for Sophie that she pushed herself forward and into the way.

Ow!

Even detached from it, the pain resonated in her. She hurt. Her body fell and stopped moving, the ability to puppet it briefly cut off as the resonance between soul and flesh was impacted by the sheer pain that tore through Marinette. She whimpered. Lysenna grabbed her. Isabel screamed. Shadows, again, erupted up and tore thorns asunder, keeping them from the corpse on the ground. Hugo rushed back and lifted her from the dirt and started pushing his way out.

He was slammed into, flying and dropping her. She would have rolled like a mine cart downhill if Lysenna hadn’t caught her, but her weight was too much. Help. She focused in. Made the corpse move with Lysenna. Isabel was with them. Etienne came up on the side and grabbed her other arm. Out. Out.

Isabel went back.

Speak! SPEAK!

“Where is Isabel…?”

Nobody could hear her. She was whispering in a crowd of screams.

“Where.. Isabel?”

Lysenna leaned in, but couldn’t make it out. They stepped out, past the rift.

Her soul came back into the body like a snap. The pain made her gasp. It had been intense before, but this was new. Now she was inside. She collapsed fully.

The world was muffled. She could hear them, but couldn’t understand what was going on.

Oh. We’re dying. This is what it actually feels like? How… novel.

“Master could save us.” The voices whispered. “We can ask. He’ll save us!”

She saw a black spiral open up in front of her. They reached for her, the Rocheaux, desperate to help. Marinette took their hand and smiled apologetically. She was about to speak when the green light appeared behind her. She looked over her shoulder and felt Vecatra. She felt Etienne.

“I’m going to go this way now. Don’t worry, okay?” She consoled them like her family, because they were her family, and then… awoke.

She looked up at Etienne, his hand on her heart, as bark grew over both of them. She saw the terror in his eyes and wanted to reach up and hold him. Oh, she was tired, though. ‘Hello, curmudgeonly hero. Hello, my family.’ She smiled. She touched his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. This was what the world should be. Safety and warmth. Her whole family, unhidden from one another.

‘Hello, Mother.’

A determined Marinette is a terrifying thing to behold.

At first it was at night–Pierre wouldn’t let her out of his sight, and so she snuck away, like she always had, through the woods, into the dark, back there. She knew where it was now. A basket in hand with food she’d saved from Sophie’s dinner that would store well, some stitched things from Tiphaine–a scarf, so it was androgynous. You thought having a wayward ghost for a servant was a problem?

Up to that shack.

‘We shouldn’t disturb the Master,’ they whispered, terrified, and she soothed them softly with a humming cadence. She wished she could hug them. They were like children now, cowed by an abusive adult who didn’t know how to find his own way, so he took it out on those around him.

She was not a child.

She had grown up, and she would take care of them. She would take care of him. She believed nobody should be left behind, and he was alone–his loneliness was why he was like this, and so she would take his hand, whether he wanted it or not, and she would pull him back, slowly. Today was with bread and cheese and some spiced meats, and a scarf with a badger embroidered on it.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Tomas, I’m coming in. Don’t make me crawl through your window, because I will.” She threatened, softly, and stood at the door patiently.

Tonight was going to begin a ritual. Tonight was going to be the first step. And every night, until she brought him home.

Tonight, she’d be her father. Looking everywhere for her mother in the woods.

She’d rewrite the story.

They wouldn’t disappear this time. There would be no body, left broken and torn apart by wolves after a stabbing.

They’d come home, safe and sound.

A determined Marinette is a terrifying thing to behold.

At first it was at night–Pierre wouldn’t let him out of her sight, and so she snuck away, like she always had, through the woods, into the dark, back there. She knew where it was now. A basket in hand with food she’d saved from Sophie’s dinner that would store well, some stitched things from Tiphaine–a scarf, so it was androgynous. You thought having a wayward ghost for a servant was a problem?

Up to that shack.

‘We shouldn’t disturb the Master,’ they whispered, terrified, and she soothed them softly with a humming cadence. She wished she could hug them. They were like children now, cowed by an abusive adult who didn’t know how to find his own way, so he took it out on those around him.

She was not a child.

She had grown up, and she would take care of them. She would take care of him. She believed nobody should be left behind, and he was alone–his loneliness was why he was like this, and so she would take his hand, whether he wanted it or not, and she would pull him back, slowly. Today was with bread and cheese and some spiced meats, and a scarf with a badger embroidered on it.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Tomas, I’m coming in. Don’t make me crawl through your window, because I will.” She threatened, softly, and stood at the door patiently.

Tonight was going to begin a ritual. Tonight was going to be the first step. And every night, until she brought him home.

Tonight, she’d be her father. Looking everywhere for her mother in the woods.

She’d rewrite the story.

They wouldn’t disappear this time. There would be no body, left broken and torn apart by wolves after a stabbing.

They’d come home, safe and sound.

[They lied. They wouldn’t even apologize.]

Marinette reminded herself that this market went well, over and over again, as her hands shook. The community stood together, they worked together, and even though all the compromise seemed one-sided, it was still good. Nobody broke apart.

She shuddered to think about all the things that had happened.

***

That elf had walked up beside her, taunted everyone in the clearing, and then he had killed the human following him.. Right in front of her. Nobody had moved fast enough–even her scream did nothing to persuade it.

If she had known all the details. Why didn’t they tell her he was going to be here with ‘food’; why didn’t they tell her what this would look like? She would have tried to stop it. She would have been faster to interfere.

Granny Jo had promised not to offer it honey, not to make a deal with it. That’s exactly what Etienne did, when the danger presented itself. He told him that they would praise him. Hold a feast in its honor.

And when Marinette had told them they had hurt her when they went back on their promises, neither Etienne nor Granny Jo apologized–only Isabel.

***

[They’ll take advantage. They lie. They don’t care.]

Her faith was.. Shaken. Not in God, but in people. She had asked them to close the distance so many times, and they still kept secrets. They still mistrusted one another. They still ignored one another.

***

‘You can sway everyone with your tears, but you shouldn’t.’

Those words from Cole made Marinette raise her voice. “She’s not crying to sway people!”

She shouldn’t have done that. Isabel calmed her immediately, tried to talk to Cole–and then Henri came over. At first, Marinette thought this would bring the tensions down, but Cole began to growl at him. She raised her voice and got more and more angry, and Henri… and Henri wasn’t helping. Not like Marinette expected of him–not the way she knew he always did. He snapped back at Cole. She stormed away.

Theo approached, and asked for an apology. Henri wouldn’t budge. Marinette thought it was reasonable–acknowledging pain and apologizing for pain–but nobody budged. Nobody moved.

They just got.. angrier.

***

These tiny stories and snippets ran through her head.

***

“Hello. Have we met?”

“Hugo! Take him out!”

“This city would burn if your mists came down.”

***

Marinette shuddered at the thought of all of the bad she had seen. All of the mistakes she had witnessed. All of the callous, self-righteous actions… but there were other things, too.

***

She was sitting in a room–with a bunch of her community. With Granny Jo, and Isabel, and Etienne, and Lysenna, and they were talking. They were making plans, and arrangements, and including one another.

When Isabel came to Etienne for understanding, he had agreed immediately. He had sought to protect her, to acknowledge her–he’d taken her seriously. There was no malice.

When Granny Jo had thought we had compromised too much, in that back room–even if she changed her mind–she’d said that she’d stand with us.

***

Everyone was trying their best.

Henri was scared.

Cole was coming from a place of protection for her community.

Granny Jo was trying to balance faith and trust.

Etienne had acted out of a need to save the people around him–to rescue his community. All of them.

That thing had killed someone, casually, in front of all of us. Was there a way to make everyone agree? No. That would be impossible.

[But people aren’t safe, you know. That bandit woman killed her brother. Her own flesh and blood–cut down for her survival.]

Marinette wished time would slow down. She was so… scared. Pierre would never. She would never. Cadence and Henri and Isabel and Lysenna would never. Tiphaine…

Tiphaine cleared her thoughts.

Tiphaine is scared always. Tiphaine will run from anything. But when Marinette volunteered again to walk to the slaughterhouse for her community, Tiphaine had volunteered to take her place.

Tiphaine, shaking and afraid. Not brave. Not stalwart. She knew not what would happen, but she… volunteered anyway.

My community would not cut me down to save themselves.

If I am slow, they will pick me up. If I stumble, they will grab me. If I scream, they will run to me. Gerard would stand in front of me. Bretta would shield me. Isabel would wrap herself around me. Lysenna would pull me up and tell them nobody was allowed to touch me.

Even Alphonse would not let his community be harmed. Even Theo would stand. Etienne and Hugo and Granny Jo–all of them would do their best.

… No, my community would not cut me down.

They would not cut any of us down.

… And anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.

The night at home was calm. Grandpa Raimund was no longer coughing and babbling, Pierre was settled into his bed after hours of taking care of him, and Marinette was outside in a rocking chair, listening to the wood creek as she swayed back and forth.

[It’s just us now.]

***

[You can’t take them from me..] It hissed in her ear as she held tight to Gerard’s hand. This first step in was the hardest, but she screamed back at it that Gerard would keep her safe and pressed forward until her hand found bones. Bones she’d pull up from the dirt and decay, broken. They cut her hand with their sharp edges as she was pulled out in a hurry. Her face impacted a rock on the way out, but out she came anyway. It followed her. She wanted to scream for Pierre when it grabbed her. She prepared to disappear then.

Henri grabbed it, instead. Gerard held her tight and would not let her go. She stumbled back as he pushed her behind him and the hammer struck down as she clutched broken bones to her body and shadows tried to pull her back into the black. The first of their family was cleaved free, circling his bones as she handed them to someone to take them to the crypt of her ancestors.

She wanted to fall over. She watched Isabel go in and the lyrics on her lips were as much for comfort of herself as they were for the ears of others. She was exhausted–she was tired–she was frightened. That thing.. it was part of her, and it was scared.. and she felt that fear in her bones. She looked around to all her family and friends around her. She watched Lysenna enter the crypt. Lysenna. Battered. Unable to fight. Lysenna. Bold and brave and unshaken. She took a deep breath and waited.

Isabel next. Henri and Gerard were escorting people in and out. Cadence was to her left. She was singing, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. She just heard the sound of her heartbeat in her ears like a drum.

Something swept around, its claws slamming into her arm and ripping it open.

Cadence rushed around her to defend. Teles stood over her as her legs buckled and she went down. Momentary, she told herself. This is momentary. Teles wanted to bandage her.

‘No. Those are for people who won’t stand back up. Not me. Just wait. Not me.’

She shook. She couldn’t even bring herself to sing. She trembled. Another was brought out with struggling slowness by .. Sophie? She couldn’t see past the blur in her eyes or hear past the sound of screams and whispers.

[Don’t betray us. You are us.]

Her vision cleared finally and she rose. Quilon Jovienne whispered into her ear of bravery and she felt… refreshed. She knew she had to do this. One arm now. She let Henri take her hand, though it hurt to allow it, and she pushed into the crypt’s small tunnel again. She remembered when she was 7. She was giggling while she snuck through with Miette. She remembered this–it was smaller then, when she had come in here. When she had let it out. When it had.. found them.

The darkness closed around her and she stopped. She couldn’t even hear Henri in that moment. She moved and sung and stepped on rote as she saw that moment fifteen years ago. He detached from her. She let him go. She was alone. To her knees she went and she dug, but she didn’t really want to find anything. She thought if she crawled in, maybe she wouldn’t be so lonely.

Isabel? Pierre…? Bretta…? Where are you? Are you in here? If I dig deep enough–if I crawl inside.. will I find you?

She was 7 again, scared and alone, suffocating. And then Henri’s hand grabbed her back to reality. She could hear him crying. Something had happened. She had to get him out of here. These bones–those ones. Grab them. The pain shot through her arm as she pushed rocks out of the way, but she grit her teeth and used them anyway. She was pulled out with Henri and a pile of a corpse in her hands, and the people of the town had grown so thin while she was in there. No Gerard. No Isabel. No Lysenna or Sophie.. No Bretta. Just Henri, crying, and Cadence at the door, comforting him. Marinette wanted to hug him. Her hands were so full. She only managed a thank you. What a useless gesture.

There was no time. It came for them again, grabbed at her and Lysenna rushed around the corner into sight with Sleepsong. She slammed into it as Henri pulled it forward. Another soul salvaged. Someone had to take these–she was tired, and useless. Someone had to take them. She started to walk away, as Cadence declared she would go inside for the next.

She walked not five feet before she was surrounded by Bretta and Gerard once more, with Teles leading ahead. They weren’t gone. She wasn’t alone. She kept walking forward–kept walking as they were ambushed on all sides, kept walking. She stepped ahead too far, and a claw whipped out–her arm that wasn’t harmed was grasped and crushed in its grip. She screamed and dropped the bones to the ground as Corbin rushed to her aid, along with Bretta. The creature was driven off, but she was useless again. They had to be taken.

She made someone take them–who was it? The ghost was so frightened, he couldn’t stay here–was it Corbin? Bretta walked with him. She was in the snow. Her heartbeat in her ears, slamming, over and over. Nothing else.

Focus, focus. You’ll get better.

She was starting to get her vision back when she was rushed, lifted like oh-so-much lace off the ground as the creature started to run with her. She screamed. A shot went off and she tumbled to the ground and rolled. The creature was rushed and taken down, as her vision cleared, skirts over her head. It knocked her back into her body. She slowly rose again–back to the Crypt. The walls had collapsed. Nobody could get through.

Marinette groaned with both her arms busted and pulled the pick out of the bag she carried. She started picking away, whining with each stroke. The rocks came out. One of them landed on her foot and she staggered backwards and nearly fell again. People were coming back to move the rocks away. She moved forward and continued.

The door opened again–slowly. So slowly. The black tunnel screamed at her.

[You can’t take them! They are with us! Our family! You belong here!]

In.. in again, and again. Henri held her hand and she winced.

Until finally, with Milo’s heroic effort, the last was ripped away, and they loaded the bones into Marinette’s broken arms, and she.. lead Rogier with a host of protectors. She paid more attention now. She didn’t walk ahead of her guards. Not this time. Slow. Every step was so much pain. Tiphaine would scold her for all the blood on her dress.

Until they were laid to rest. Isabel there, giving the last rites. They were done. She was free.

[Well…. It’s just us now.]

Marinette’s whole body shuddered and she stood in the dark, alone, again. The people who moved around her didn’t exist. She was isolated. She.. was the problem now.

***

Marinette swung the rocking chair. She could still hear it, whispering. The porchlight held off the darkness, and she searched for Sebastien for any level of safety. She couldn’t hear or see him, now. Cadence and Isabel had told her no. They had said they could fix this, but what if.. what if it started again because of her? What if she gave it power? What if… it hurt people.

Marinette had asked if they would kill her.

Cadence said only if her sword said so. Her sword, that Marinette could not appeal to.

Pierre would have been mad to know she asked such a thing, so she hadn’t told him. She didn’t know what to do, though. She pulled her knees up to her face and buried her head in her skirt. She sobbed.

She hated being alone.