[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Settings   Home
/qst/ - Quests

File: maybe an Octavian.png (903 KB, 1000x1561)
903 KB
903 KB PNG
Previous Thread: >>3862572
Archived Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Magical%20Contractor%20Quest
Chapter Seven Summary: https://pastebin.com/J5myUfci
Pastebin for Assorted Things and Past Summaries: https://pastebin.com/u/JuubeyQM
>I’m a very slow writer. Please bear with me. I will update when I can.

You just sit silently in Jeanette’s lap, for what feels like an eternity, as you mull over the new information. It’s a lot to take in, especially for one feeling as weary as you do right now. Many of the details from that account seem to line up with your life. You could be a storybook creature, a fairy—you could actually be a real life fairy godmother…well, godfather in your case. After all of the misery you’ve caused, you find the prospect of finding and helping some little Cinderella out there an appealing one. It fits with the new way you’ve resolved to live your life…Maybe Alice is your Cinderella—she certainly did more than her fair share of scrubbing and cleaning in her short life. Although part of you is very reluctant to hand her off to some strange prince, no matter how charming. Charm can hide many sorts of danger. And Alice is far too young for that kind of relationship. You can’t have her doing the sort of indecent things you’ve done with Jeanette…It’s possible you’ll allow it when Alice is your age. She should be ready for that sort of commitment by then.

You shake off your thoughts and look up into Jeanette’s eyes. She’s been watching you carefully. You decide to wrap your paws around the hand she left on your legs. It takes a couple tries for your paws to find their mark. For some reason, you clumsily grasped at air on the first attempt. Odd—must be some lingering effect from earlier. You let your head hang limp, resting it on the woman’s arm. It’s more comfortable to talk this way. You don’t feel like holding your head up. It feels really heavy.

“Jen…honestly…I’m glad to know all this, even the part about the Winter Court. I’ve always wondered what I really was, but beyond one girl, no one could tell me anything. This is the closest I’ve come to having some answers. This could shed some light on why I do the things I do, how my body really works, and other ways I could use my powers.”

“But they’re really sad answers. Doesn’t it bother you to know that your people almost died out...What if you’re only fairy left? I can’t imagine how I would feel if our situations were reversed. It must be awfully lonely.”

You nuzzle into her arm. “I have you and Alice. I’m not alone. Besides, I think others could still be out there. I’ve seen magical girls I didn’t personally create. Heck, one of them is the reason I wound up here in the first place…Also, Sam mentioned seeing another contractor—one that looked like a bear.”
“Do you want to find him, Octavian? He could be like your distant cousin, or something.”

“Not really. One of the few things I’ve been told before about my kind is that we’re highly territorial. My very presence might provoke a fight, regardless of my intentions. So it isn’t worth the risk to any of us.”

“Fair enough…Are you sure the Winter Court stuff really doesn’t bother you? Nobody wants to be a bad guy…”

“Jen, I was a bad guy. That much is clear. Sure, I could use the circumstances of my birth and existence as a ready-made excuse for my actions, but at the end of the day I chose to be a horrible wretch…And now I’ve chosen to be something better. Look, I’m not going to let this get in the way of my future. Winter Court or not; Alice’s doing or not—I’m much closer to being a human now. I know how people feel, what that means, and I can’t just go back to the way I was…I promise I won’t ever go back to that…Jen, I’ve cast my lot in with you and Alice. You’re my family now…no matter what it costs me in the end.”

You feel yourself being jostled as Jeanette lifts you higher. She sets you down on the table, so she can look into your eyes. You would have lost your balance if you didn’t have a firm grip on her left hand. “Octavian, we’re one strange family then…”

“Yugh…you know Jen, it’s funny…” Man, your lips feel like lead. You should speak slower. “…It sounds like fae on both sides of the metaphorical isle took human lovers…Maybewere not so strange…strange after all…Gibmeahug.”Yeah, you’re done talking. Is this place mat padded? It feels nice…maybe you should just lie down…Yeah, Jen’s not using her hand; she shouldn’t mind.

“Octavian, is something wrong?”

“AY…ye feel a wee bit tips-y.”

“What the hell?” She immediately flips open the book back to the section of fairies, or at least one of Jeanette’s did. Why’s there three of her now? Thinking about it, why is there three of everything now?

“Why ya so loud? AY SAID…Ay feel a wee bit tips-y. ‘Ats a first ye bloody basetard. “Hey Jheny lassie, your lips are looking quite kisss-abul. What’s-ya and that cream? Did ya put some smack in it? I k-now you k-now H. ‘Ats stupid. I scooped it…Weeee erreything so spinny……why ya ignoranme? Jhen…Idon’t feel so good…take me to bed.” You decide to close your eyes. The spinning lights hurt too much.

You feel a hand sweeping back your ears. “Oh sweetie! I think I just got you drunk for the first time. It says here milk fat, butter, and cream can intoxicate fairies.” You don’t like how loud she slams the book shut. “I think you have the right idea…” You can’t keep up with what she’s saying any longer, but you can feel your body moving somewhere…then, soft. Soft is good. Warm is good too.
>Roll 1d100 Crits don’t matter for this. Best of...however many anons. This isn't a pass or fail thing--the higher the roll the more you might see…after the POV stuff of course
Rolled 95 (1d100)

Yeah, I ain't messing that up
Rolled 57 (1d100)


>Crits don’t matter for this.
You could literally roll a 1 and it won't matter.
Rolled 96 (1d100)

>You can’t have her doing the sort of indecent things you’ve done with Jeanette…
Rolled 11 (1d100)

double kek

I wonder how Alice would react to the knowledge we get blind drunk on ice cream.

Thats such a... thing.
>96 takes it. If it wasn't obvious I was expecting a bunch of middling rolls. Then the first roll comes in and it's a 95. This comes into play after the POV stuff once we get back to Octavian. I would explain more, but I don't want to spoil it.

>I'm already working on the Jeanette POV stuff. I went back and looked up the relevant parts of past threads(This was hard. I'm the sort of person that hates reading my own writing). I'm just debating how far back I want the perspective to go.
>The second bit of good news is I'm free tomorrow, so I can make a Saturday post--if I get the Jeanette stuff done tonight in a timely fashion.

What got me was writing the next line: Octavian thinks Alice might be ready for that sort of relationship when she's pushing 80. He's going to need to get himself a rocking chair and a shotgun eventually.

That's brings up a few questions. Has Alice ever had ice cream? The cult is the self sufficient type; big into growing their own food when possible. They do have dairy cows, but would they have made ice cream over the more useful things you can make with milk(butter, cheese, yogurt, ect)? Granted, Shirley and Joseph did have special authority to leave the farm on occasion, so they might have brought some back, but I doubt they would have. Alice is more familiar with baked goods and fried treats(cookies, cakes, pies, doughnuts and funnel cakes). Secondly, is this normal for Octavian or did he get this bad because it's his first experience with getting drunk? He is a "Scotsman", after all.

How Alice would react if let's say they ate ice cream together: She gets pretty spectacular sugar highs due to being smol. So she would probably act just as loony as Octavian in the moment and wouldn't think much of it. Afterwards, that depends on how good Octavian is at hiding his hangover.
>Sorry. This took longer to write then I thought. I wound up scrapping a couple of drafts in the process too. I hope you enjoy it.

Laundry isn't providing quite the distraction you hoped it would be. You can't help but worry about the mess you've gotten yourself into as you watch the clothes spin in the water. You feel like you’re submerged with them. Octavian wants you to go back home with Alice. He has a point, but it might not even be legal for you to travel with her—she's not really your daughter, no matter how much you wish otherwise. You always wondered when you were going to wind up on the news someday like those girls you laughed about with your co-workers. "Local teacher caught in illicit relationship with student" how about "Local former teacher arrested; charged with trafficking undocumented child across the state—Are there more victims?" The reporters would definitely play up the fact that you were fired, how young Alice looks, and that she's a girl to paint you as some sort of horrible deviant. They might even find some despite parent to make a spurious accusation against you and the school. It would make for an easy cash settlement. At least, you might help someone out that way....You always hoped your death or arrest would wind up spurring some special interest piece on the opioid crisis. They could have all of those same co-workers put on fake tears and lie about how they never knew how bad your addiction was. BULLSHIT! You knew they all fucking hated you. You saw how they looked at you in planning meetings. You even heard some of their gossip about you. Some of it was right. You always did wonder how they knew your marriage was on the rocks and who told them you popped pills. It's not like you shared that with anyone.
Maybe some intrepid reporter would track down Dan, so he could tell them about how much of a bitch you were; about all the days you would scream and yell like a mad woman over the tiniest things, about how much you bitched and moaned, that you couldn't cook, didn't clean, and how lousy of a lay you were (What did he expect? you were a virgin before you met him at that frat party. It not exactly like high school guys were lining up to get with the girl in the wheelchair, who spent most of her free time at the hospital, or later on, the girl who hobbles around on crutches moping all the time when she's not high.) before you gave up on even trying to have sex with him. What was the point? It hurt because of your muscle spasms and it's not like you could conceive. What did the doctor call it again? Functional hypothalamic amenorrhea? Whatever it was, you fucked up your hormones between the painkillers, stress from teaching, and your "diet" to the point your lady parts didn't feel like playing ball anymore. It wasn't exactly like it was the first time they stopped working like that, but it was much more inconvenient when you were trying to get pregnant. Sure it might be fixable, maybe, but then you were informed your back would massively complicate a pregnancy, so you shouldn't go through with it...and it didn't seem like Dan wanted kids as much as you did. A crying baby would get in the way of his painting and you had to go back to teaching eventually. So you decided your lady parts had the right idea. You gave up on it too...Heck, in a month, you might find out that Alice fixed that too. You're not exactly looking forward to the mess or getting cramps again.

Turning you mind back to more pressing matters you wonder what is your Dad going to say about all of this? He has money, but he probably won't be happy to support you or some strange little girl you just found one day. At least he had money...Your medical treatment was expensive and so was Mom's. Sure, insurance and the settlement paid for part of that, but it couldn't have been cheap. Mom's life insurance is gone. That went to paying off your degree and Dad spent the rest of it on your car and helping you buy a house—wedding presents. Well, you degree is useless, you sold the house in the divorce, and you blew all the money on drugs...If only Mom was still around she would know what do. She didn't wind up starting all those restaurants without dealing with a financial problem or two—That is if she would still talk to you after you went and ruined everything like you always do...Why did you agree to any of this! What the hell were you thinking, Jen? What gives you the fucking right to force yourself into Alice and Octavian's lives like that...sure they both said yes, but how long will it take for you to drive them away by being the bitch you are deep down inside...like you did with Dan? Everything would have been so much simpler if you...if you just died.
You feel like crying but the tears won't come. No—you could really go for throwing up right now. That's what you need to do. It never really fixed any problems, but for some reason it helped. You're not even sure why you still did it. It's not like you had to watch your figure for dancing, or you had a husband to worry about appealing to any more. You just felt stronger after denying your body—like you really could control things. You leave your laundry. You can deal with it later; you need to deal with yourself right now. On the way over to the bathroom, you can't help but to look into Alice's room. Octavian is helping her with her with her writing; patiently demonstrating the strokes to form a letter. He looks weird moving around like that...Honestly, he's more than a little scary in general, knowing that he's hurt people before and how he almost hurt you without thinking about it...But it's awfully cute how he dotes on Alice like that. You like that he's trying his best to be a father and parent Alice...with you. He seems to care about you for some reason. Maybe he's—nah, you're reading too much into things. He's a rabbit...thing, he probably doesn't even get those sorts of feelings and it's not like anyone would want settle down with you. Anyway whatever...They do look like their having fun. You feel like joining them; spending some time as Mrs. Anderson again. You do feel an itch to teach, even if it's something as simple as letters.
Your wrist hurts like a motherfucker, despite your magic, and your ears are still ringing. How the hell did Dan do this sort of thing for fun? Well, targets don't shoot back, for starters...That thing was trying to shoot you...and judging from the holes in the deck, would have succeeded if Octavian hadn't pushed you out of the way. Where is that little guy anyway? The sensation of fur registers on one of your legs and you realize that he's kind of trapped under your skirt. You can feel your cheeks flush. (The ones on your face damn it!) Let him look for Christ’s-Sake! You’re pretty sure he’s not pervy like a human man. It could really be much worse. You can tell your outfit changes down there when you transform, and thank God that’s the case, otherwise Octavian would be getting quite the eyeful—not that you’re the type of girl that’s looking for an audience, or something. Honestly, you kind of get self-conscious when you open your draw and look your underwear. You only started wearing that style because you didn’t want to have obvious panty-lines while working around horny teenagers (…Also, Dan seemed to like that sort of panties on you). You knew that some of the eighth-grade boys were staring at your butt whenever you turned your back to use the white-board. You really wanted to write them up, but you could never quite figure out how. It’s not like you caught them looking, you didn’t want to sound like a hysterical woman, the Principal never seemed to take your word on anything, and you would feel embarrassed to even bring it up...Oh, Octavian’s talking to you.

…Speaking of your butt, Jen, why do you feel like something is touching you there? Oh son of a bitch!
Oh my God! You wish you could have that mouthwash back, so you could spit out again. Octavian’s hitting on you. Octavian! Seriously? He must be joking with you. You’re human girl and he’s a little rabbit thing. You’re not even sure how that would work…But dear God his is voice is SO HOT when he talks like that—Deep, with a little bit of a foreign accent to be mysterious, but not too much so that he’s hard to understand, and smooth, oh so smooth. God, you would enjoy listening to him read the dictionary. You would enjoy listing to him reading anything…You should have him narrate one of those trashy romance novels and record it. He could make good money from girls like you doing that.

And his eyes…Sure, they look really creepy, at first, but not so much when you get use to them moving around. He looks so serious; so intense. It’s like he’s looking right thought you…And his eyes are sort of hypnotic to gaze into. Man, you lose hours staring into his eyes. You swear he’s melting your brain a little, maybe something else too…Seriously, Jen, what the fuck? Pull yourself together, girl!

Part of you really does hope he takes you out on a date. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been on one and…Honestly, you could do worse. Octavian’s nice to you and he’s really good with Alice—a decent guy overall. He’s a lot better than the last asshole who asked you out. That dubious honor goes to one of Claire’s sleazy friends. He said he was a photographer and you’re pretty sure he wasn't the kind that takes wedding photos. The date was terrible, you had no chemistry, and he was really pushy about going back to his place. He even offered you drugs just to come back with him. It was pretty tempting, but between the shame and disgust, you managed to grow a backbone and storm off. You think he just wanted to take advantage of you. Bastard!

Well if Octavian doesn't go through with it, maybe you'll ask him out. You not sure he really gets people yet. You could always come up with some flimsy excuse that you want to talk about Alice or just want to go out on your birthday...something like that.
God! Octavian really does know how to push your buttons. Thanks Alice. You think he took her earlier comment as an excuse to flirt with you again, or at least embarrass you a little. That he's succeeded at in spades since he crawled over to you...Then, he has to come along and be nice to you, reassure you, tell you you're pretty, and make you feel like you're worth something. You haven't forgotten that he saved your life earlier. Christ—he managed to hit enough of your buttons turn you on. It's more than that. If he was a human, you would seriously consider getting with a guy like him...Does that even really matter? He wants to be Alice's dad and you want to be Alice's mom. He said he likes being with you and you don't mind being with him...No, Jen, you're lying. You like him don't you? Sure, he's weird, but you're not normal yourself...and if he is interested you don't want to push him away by playing too hard to get.

You hoped he would have taken the hint and kissed you earlier, but he kept talking. Maybe, you should try again and be more obvious. Come on Octavian, take the hint. You must know how romantic your acting...

Wait, Jen, you're an idiot. He can't read your body language. Octavian told you he's only totally felt like a human for a few days, tops. You're going to have to tell him out loud...

Now you went and did it! With the way he's looking at you, he must think you're even crazier than you really are. What if he doesn't have the drive for it, or worse, what if he isn't attracted to human women? Both are possibilities...

Honestly, you really don't care about his lack of anatomy. It makes you feel more comfortable and in control of the relationship. You're not going to wake up to him rubbing up on you or trying to plow you in your sleep. (Thanks Dan, I'm sure the neighbors thought you were murdering me. And the kids in class appreciated how I acted the next day. Nothing put me in a better mood than having no sleep and having random violent muscle spasms over the course of the next day. You really couldn't blame him. He had needs too.) That got you thinking. Between you and Octavian, you might be the only one with sexual needs and you can take care of yourself...There's other stuff you could try with him too, just in case he does have those needs like any other man...Jen, you're getting a head of yourself. Just see if he'll kiss you before you go all perverted on him...
That was incredible. He needed a little help sometimes, but that was one of the best make out sessions you've ever had. You were worried about being perverted before...you're pretty sure you would have moaned out loud a couple of times, if your mouth wasn't preoccupied with sucking on Octavian's face...Did you actually...Oh God, Jen, really did, you didn't you? The sticky feeling on your thighs ,and now, your fingertips certainly points in that direction...All that from just a few kisses too. Something's wrong with you, Jen.

Maybe something is really wrong with you. Why did Octavian turn you on? I mean look at him—He looks like a plush rabbit and he got you so worked up you're going to have to change your panties. Are you some type of weirdo now, Jen? This is so confusing. Are you into animals now, or are you one of those...what the heck did that Rick kid call his wolf drawings again? That shit was creepy as fuck. They were mauling each other while they were going at it with their giant...yeah you're not into that. Dealing with that mess probably made the Principal's day. You're glad somebody stole the tamer ones from his locker—hopefully, they burned them too.

Maybe your into like innocent Octavian is when it comes to romantic stuff. He's such a virgin dork...like a teenage kid just...Oh FUCK! Deep down, you are one of those perverted girls from the news, aren't you? You just got fired before you could run off with the captain of the football team or some chess nerd...or...Susan. Yeah, you never really swung that before, but in light of present events, you have no idea what you're capable of. Maybe that's why her dad wrote you an email to get lost and not the whole overdosing thing.
Steady breaths, Jen. Maybe, you're overreacting a little bit. Octavian's more than double your age, so you're not a pedo. He's real, sapient, and he seemed willing enough, after some convincing. You just need to calm down and think this over. The last thing you want to do is freak him out with your bullshit when he's emotionally vulnerable. Just keep making small talk.
LOVE! Did you really have to slip up and say the L-word. You don't want to scare him off. He probably hasn’t realized how much commitment love entails and if he does...he might treat you like all the other guys you've known. You hope he doesn't.

Actually, seems like you didn't scare him off...He wants to keep going with this. Words can't describe how happy you are. Between this and Alice you finally feel real happiness for the first time in years. Things are getting better...and you'll humor Octavian with the ice cream.
Ohmygodomygodohmygod...If you've read all this right, Octavian really sounds like a fairy. He's like a fairy prince, or something. Sure, he might be a bad boy fairy, judging by the descriptions. But he's changed his ways and he cares about you—That's hot in a way. (You need to get him a little leather jacket and a motorcycle.) Ten year old you would squee in delight at how cool this is—Adult Jen might join her. Wow your very own fairy. And the book says you're not weird either. You're not the first human to about doing stuff with a fairy...and they can have kids with humans, somehow. You're not sure how that works, but you'll work out the logistics later when things get more serious. Alice is going to be a handful all by herself. Octavian looks shocked too...or kinda sick. You better see if he's okay.

>No further options at the moment. Unless you want to vote on switching to the mystery box POV or going back to Octavian.I promise it's worth it.

>I need to take a break and make lunch and I'll get right on it. It should be shorter than this.
Meanwhile, at a hospital many, many miles away
“Excuse me; is the mystery woman in that room? Someone dropped these off for her at the front desk.”

“Yeah, she’s in there. Normally there’s a guard but he’s taking a smoke break at the moment. She’s not exactly going anywhere…You must be the new nurse. Well new to us, Ma’am. I don’t mean any disrespect by it. You look like you’ve had plenty of experience. The name’s James, by the way. If you’re on the nightshift you’re going to get to know the rest of the janitors quite well…I haven’t caught your name yet.”

“Oh I’m Nancy. It’s a pleasure meeting you”

“Likewise…You should probably wait for the officer to get back before you go in there. Did you already clear this with the officers downstairs? You know, they might want to know who dropped those off. Just in case they know who she is.”

“The officers already pulled the surveillance footage and checked for prints—they found nothing. Someone dodged the cameras and just left this bear and these flowers at the front door…Oh, there was a note too, but the police kept it. They might want the hand writing.

“Smart thinking, ‘don’t know what good it’ll do.”

“I’m just bringing them upstairs for her. The police didn’t think flowers or a teddy would hurt anyone.”

“…It’s shame, if you ask me. I don’t know why anyone would shoot up a pretty lady like that. She didn’t try to fight the guy, or nothing. No sense in it, at all. Thank God the bastard’s dead…I don’t think she’s going to make it, either. The doctors said she keeps slipping in and out of consciousness and it might be a day or two before her remaining organs start failing…I hope she pulls through just to spite him…You really don’t talk much, do you, Nancy?”

“Not anymore…I’ve just seen too much death in my line of work.”

“Yeah, I can say the same and I just sweep the floors around here. Things are really going downhill.”

“You can say that again. Anyway, I’ve still got rounds to make. I can chat later.”

“Well don’t be a stranger, I’m around all night. Ya hear?”
The room is vacant beside the expected occupant and various bits of medical equipment. That’s good; no audience. You didn’t want to answer any more questions. You place the bear and the bouquet on the bedside table, as instructed. You hope that will satisfy him.

James wasn’t lying. She was a pretty lady, judging by what’s left of her…Was being the keyword; a natural blonde to boot—if the lone eyebrow amid the tapestry of bandages is an indicator. Her color hair almost matches her skin—Jaundice. You doubt she’s getting a liver transplant in this state. Someone should put her out of her misery. You would, but you have orders. You know better than to go against them...Still
“Miss uh…Miss. I know you’re really awake, so you can open your eyes and look at me—Sorry. I mean your eye.” A single green eye snaps opens. You haven’t seen that much hate coming from a person in nearly a lifetime. “Don’t ask me how I knew that, and this is going to sound pretty crazy, but hear me out. You’re not hallucinating. All of this is very real…If someone unexpected starts talking to you, be very careful what you say around him. You know what they say about things being too good to be true…” You shudder as your airway seizes up. You hack until the pain dies down. Her gaze is still burning away at you. “I’ve said too much; I must get going. Please, remember what I just told you.” You exit the room before you get yourself deeper in trouble.
Greetings Shirley Whitmore! I come with great news. You possess within you the power to do the impossible—I can grant you access to this power for a small cost. The benefits greatly outweigh any drawbacks you can think of…Also, as part of this deal, you are entitled to one wish…use it how you see fit; for whatever your heart may desire.

Correct, human, now name your price.

I…I want…everything to go back…the way it was before…HAAA—Ah…It was before…I-I…went off to that stupid cult…I want my brother back...too…I love him…so much…Can…C-can you do that?
You toss your hat into the back seat. It’s nights like these that make you wish you still could smoke. You might as well pick up the habit again. You’re not a young woman and you’re dying anyway. You just extending you’re suffering this way. Before long you’ll see that lady in hell…along with so many others. The passenger door flies open on its own and shuts gently. A few moments later, he appears in the passenger seat sitting there with a smug look, like he never left in the first place.

“Was that really necessary? Couldn’t you just let that woman die in peace?”

You should know better than to question my motives after so many years, Nancy. However, as I am a charitable being, I will answer your question. After many years and many questions…I seek to smoke out a rat and to flush out a valuable prize at the same time…As a skilled hunter you should understand, yes?

You know he’s mocking you. You can’t do anything about it and you’re not going to play his word games tonight. You look into your rear-view mirror to take your eyes off of him. You notice a pair of white panel trucks pulling alongside the hospital’s front entrance. Moments later, the doors swing open and a number of masked men, clad in all black, with various types of long guns storm out from the vehicles. You can hear gunfire coming from the hospital lobby.
Do not fret, Nancy. They cannot see us—yet. I desire to keep things that way. So, do your part and drive, will you? If you do not comply with my demands, you leave me no choice but to inflict pain on you once again. You do not like pain, is that correct?

Of course it’s correct. Why did you ever let yourself get sucked up in this kind of life? Why wouldn’t the bear just let you die like one of the other girls?
It’s just another night of mayhem, one that blends into countless others, in your long life as a magical girl.

Voting time for POV
>Change the channel. I want to go back to Octavian.
>Hold on, wait up a minute. I want to see more of what's going on here with Shirley.
>Change the channel. I want to go back to Octavian.
>Just to clarify things as those options aren't really clear.

If you vote for Octavian you find out what that dice roll was really for and you get to start the next day.

If you vote for Shirley It's not just another POV sequence. You get to play as her for a little while. and if you're sick of all the talking you get a nice combat sequence too

>Do with that as you will. How was the POV stuff. Too long or was it interesting?
I don't think either POV was too long; I enjoyed them both.
Sticking to my original vote regardless.
It was inordinately cute, and just a little depressing.

I liked the first POV quite a lot more, but thats just because I like Jeanette.

Its pretty clear what happened to her is going to... take a while to heal. Possibly a VERY long time. Which is a pretty good sign she isnt being mind controlled I guess?

Also, my oh my, we have enemies we have never even met. We should be flattered~!
back to Octy for me.

I liked both POVS, but the first one especially. Probably because Jeanettes my favorite!

It also pretty clear what happened to her is going to take... quite a long time to heal. Which is a mark in favor of her not being mind controlled I suppose.

Also, ey, we have enemies we have never even met! How flattering~!
>Change the channel. I want to go back to Octavian.
>(96) So I've been working hard at this since late last evening/early in the morning today. I hope you enjoy it.
>Also, since I was feeling experimental when I was writing this I have a two soundtrack suggestions for these scenes. Start with this one https://youtu.be/dJByeRX004M after the first large paragraph...it should be obvious why.
The first crimson rays of sunrise taunt your eyes...
~"Your Eyes?"

Your watching the dawn through eyes that are not your own...The angle is all wrong, you're much too tall...yet they feel...right; like they are your own. The songbirds warble out chipper tunes. The morning air is ethereal, crisp, and clear—It all feels just right. You can feel your body shifting beneath an oversized cloak. It's all involuntary...you can't stop this movement. A pair of arms clad in long sleeves—hunter green ones, the same color as the cloak—rise up and shake themselves, as if by reflex. The sleeves rollback revealing...hands...human hands, with long elegant fingers, encased finely embroidered gloves. You can't make out the patterns or symbols, as the golden thread blends into the more ordinary background yellow. One hand retreats back to your side and returns with an instrument...a flute? a pipe? You've never seen anything like it before now. Both hands seize around it and you draw the device close to your face. You can feel something ride up your cheeks...it feels soft...like silk. The breeze feels harsh on your naked lips. You didn't imagine it, something was covering them before.
Without any conscious command, You draw breath deep into your chest...purse your lips together...contort your fingers around the apparatus...and begin to play.

One by one they heed the summons of your song. From the smallest babe; to the knight's strapping squire; from to the lowliest waif, to the mayor's precious, coddled son—they come to you—one and all. Your audience is utterly enraptured—completely captivated—by your performance. One of your feet rises and then descends in front of the other. The clatter of the heel of your boot against the rough cobblestone falls in time with your music. You repeat the process; your footsteps tapping out a grim refrain alongside your instrument's melody. The procession of children follows in tow.

You lead them away from the town; away from their homes. You lead them over the hills; into the dark woods. A thought sears itself into your mind. ~"You know just the right place for them...Wait and see" You continue to march. The forest clears out revealing the banks of a mighty river. Your song never ceases; neither does your stride. You try desperately to stop yourself, but it's completely and utterly ineffective. You feel water surge into your boots; lapping hungrily at your feet. Then, it engulfs your legs and torso, as well. This does not stop your frenzied playing...You're constantly drawn in ever deeper...And eventually, you're swept away by the current.
You plunge downward unceasingly. You didn't think rivers could run so deep. It's like you're descending into the unknown reaches of the sea. Another peculiarity vexes you. You're still playing that infernal music, despite being submerged, it still rings out clear as day. You still can't compel your body to do anything besides play that strange instrument, so you let the current drag you along and just stare upward towards the hazy reflection of the sky above you...You make out a ripple in the image. It's one of the children from the town. Her face is blank and she makes no effort to struggle against the water...She just sinks towards you like a stone...A boy joins her. He takes to his fate in the exact same manner. Scores more of them follow—male and female; small and large. You are surrounded by drowning children, the water positively teams with them, and you can only observe their deaths in total passivity.

The song finally stops. Then, seemingly nothing occurs. Minutes or maybe hours pass, before you notice a new group of shapes diving in one by one...Indistinct at first, but growing clearer and clearer as they sink deeper. People—Girls in garb unlike the town's children—You finally recognize the first one...It's Ellen, eyes closed, in her magical girl outfit—it's covered in scorch-marks, bloodstains, and tattered in just the right places...just like it was on that fateful London night. Above her is Matilda...and Jessica...and Sophie…and Mellissa and Sally…and Mary...and Oh God! More...So many more...Why? WHY? WHY DID YOU CAUSE THIS?

A great blow shakes you from your stupor and roils the waters around you. A single tiny figure, wreathed in flowing, floating crimson skirts and long twisting branches of sodden blonde hair, comes speeding into the murky depths towards you—like an avenging angel seeking to cast you down for a final time. Your worst fears contained in eight year old form—TITANIA. Her cold blue eyes are frozen upon you; her visage is frozen too-in frenzied fury. Her arms are outstretched over her head in a downward stab; her hands tightly grip her ponderous blade, its form is crude for a massive sword...it almost resembled an overgrown cook's knife, but that did not detract from its sharpness or lethality. You've seen her use it to make short work of indescribable horrors as if they were nothing more than household produce and now she's turned it on you.
Your foreign limbs pick this an opportune time to comply with your panicked demands. You attempt a sloppy backstroke in the same direction of the current. Titania's blade looms ever larger. You could swear it was growing with each passing second...the same seemed to be true of her hair...no...She and her weapon are growing. It was as if you were floating through the currents of time rather than some river. In mere seconds you've seen more than eight years of changes in the girl. She's taller, shapelier, and now...just now her belly has started to bow outward...swelling with the anticipation of new life.

Suddenly something seizes you around the wrist to halt your progress...A silent naked woman? At first you thought it was Jeanette from the willowy limbs and the glint of brown hair...once you turned to gaze upon her all differences hit you: Her brown hair is much longer and stringier than Jeanette's. In its sodden form, the brown tangles completely obscure this new woman's face. Her bust is much smaller; she looks horribly emaciated, more so than Jeanette,...And her skin is cold and pallid—like an old corpse. Her grip is like iron. You can't shake her off. You turn back to see Titania's gravid form will arrive in mere moments. You panic and desperately flail out with your free arm...until something clamps onto it too.

You can hear a giggling now...a familiar laugh, but something's off with it—like there's malice behind it. It's coming from the opposite side of the odd woman. You turn to find its source...It's Alice in her nun costume, with closed eyes. She's digging her hands into your right arm. You can't tell if she's drawn blood yet; but it hurts...Her eyes flutter open...they're pitch black. It's like your staring into a void. You think some of that darkness is leaking into the water around you. It’s mixing with blood coming from above you. You look back up just in time to catch the gargantuan tip of Titania's blade. You go cross-eyed as it completely bisects your body.
Everything goes black...
It’s dark…so dark. You can’t make out anything in your immediate surroundings, not even your own limbs. You’re pretty sure there all there. You can feel them; you just can’t see them. It seems like you’re floating in something. It flows like a liquid, but there’s no texture to it…it’s not wet. It’s not anything. It’s…just void. It’s almost like the substance you just saw in Alice’s eyes. Strangely, it’s not unpleasant to be submerged in this stuff. You feel oddly comfortable, despite what you’ve just been through.

You can make out a shimmering in the blackness above you. There’s no reason to stick around here, so you swim towards it. You rise effortlessly in this substance. In a short time you break the surface...Your head bobs up along with your paws...Good it looks like you made it back into your normal body. You survey your surroundings. You’re in the center of a massive lake. You have no idea how you got from the river to here. The water is placid; there’s no obvious flow from a river feeding into any other body of water. Surrounding the lake is a forest of pine trees. It’s strange, every last one you spot looks diseased—their bark is dropping of and their needles are various unhealthy shades of yellow. Far in the distance you think you can make out some sort of eccentric looking building. Is it a twisting spire, part of some far off castle’s keep? Maybe, it’s a steeple of a church or some other type of spire. It could just be a ruin—a shard of some long dead civilization…In some ways it reminds of an observatory. The skinny building looks like a good place to set up a telescope.

Despite being lost and surrounded by death you feel calm, tranquil even. The observatory idea makes you think of stargazing with Matilda decades ago. Of course, you could try to find your way home using the stars. You make yourself comfortable by floating on your back with your arms spread out from your sides. You look up into the misty night air at the abnormally dim stars…One constellation is shining remarkably brightly. You wonder name for it was…Ah, Taurus, Taurus the bull. There’s his head and that really bright star must be Aldebaran. It’s hard to make out much else in the swirling murky haze. For a second you swear you can see the dark new moon in triplicate moving in an arc across the evening sky. Maybe it’s just a hallucination from lingering shock.
File: Spoiler Image (12 KB, 258x195)
12 KB
As much as you enjoy the much needed respite, you have a far greater need to get home to Alice and Jeanette. This is getting you nowhere, so you decide to locate that city. It’s your best bet for rescue. You swim across the lake towards it, with an unnatural ease for your form, and hop on to the shore. With a few more steady hops you’re beginning to traverse the tight spaces between all of those dying trees. That mist is becoming more like a fog the deeper you trespass into these unknown woods. For the second time tonight you’re flying blind…You think the trees are getting more sparse…is that grass under your feet…after almost crashing into one, you notice these pines are in peak condition. Their needles are green, and they’re downright huge. This place seems full of life…the fog is back down to wispy misty. You’re now standing in front of another, smaller, body of water…a bog judging from the odors wafting in the air. And you’re not alone.

There a small group of masked men and one unmasked one standing on the opposite side of the water. To start with the outlier, He’s clearly not here willingly judging by all the ropes and the fearful expression. He’s not trying to fight or flee…he seems resigned despite his fear. He’s stark naked with all sorts of runes and symbols painted on his body in blue. He appears to be a young man reddish color hair with green eyes, teens or twenties, but really hits you is that remarkably good physical condition. He looks like some artist’s carved him from marble. Most of the other men are in shepherds’ garb, but there’s not a flock in sight. The men’s masks are of human-ish faces, but with horns. There made of some type of wood, you can’t make out type from this far away. They’re all chanting in some infernal language…it seems oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place it. The last man seems to be the leader of this bunch. He’s wearing some sort of robe, or maybe just a closed cloak and an elaborate wolf mask…no, that looks like a real wolf’s head stuffed and turned into some type of headdress. He holds a shepherd’s crook in his left hand. As the chanting builds to a fever pitch you can see him withdraw a dagger from beneath his cloak. (It was a cloak and that was his sole article of clothing. The man is naked beneath it. He’s covered in signs too. One really stands out to you…it…you must have seen it in a book or museum long ago. ) He viciously plunges the dagger into his hostage’s neck—You always hated that gurgling sound—then he pushes the young man into the bog. The remaining men chant with more fervor. The leader holds his bloody dagger high and shouts some gibberish.
~ “You should be able to understand them. You have no reason not to…It seems you do not. I will assist you. The high priest just said something like…‘Praise to our great lord, and eternal king. Terrible…

Before the voice can finish a great pain wracks your body. You feel like a sledgehammer just connected squarely with your skull. The world goes black once more.

>BGM#2 https://youtu.be/z7rxl5KsPjs
You wake up to find yourself in a different local; once again, peering out of eyes that are not your own. This new body must be taller than the first one despite being hunched over in a peculiar way. You can tell it has some sort of grotesque deformity from your tilted vision and how far your eyes are from the rest of your body. Whatever malady it suffers from makes no difference for how fast it moves…This you could run circles around a wendigo. You’re clad in some sort of coat, the color of straw, made of rags or strips of some type of fabric—it doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever touched before—the fringes only highlight your rapid motion. The air is odd here…it’s not air, it behaves more like water. You come upon a great number of…yes those are knights in real shining armor, both in regular human and much smaller stature, arrayed in some sort of makeshift barricade. They slow you very little, offering only a token resistance. You treat them as if they were nothing more than chaff at a harvest. Just as before, you’re powerless to stop the slaughter. You can only observe the grizzly details as this body savages them. Dead wooden vines spring forth by magic, forming nooses and garrotes to aid in your task. This place looks like some sort of palace—one you’re redecorating by adding new shades of crimson and rust to the deep blues of the walls, along with “festive throws” (blankets of scattered limbs and organs from the once proud knights)

A section of what was once wall flies open like a pair of double doors. A vaguely familiar woman steps forth. She looks like the corpse from the bottom of that river, only this must have been what she looked like in life. Long brown hair swept back behind her body, regal blue dress on a slender frame, brown eyes; beautiful face…Honestly, Her resemblance to Jeanette is striking in a lot of ways. Jeanette’s face is a bit rounder in the cheeks, this girl has a sharper jaw line, and her hair is parted right down the center, where as Jeanette’s is off to the left. She looks a head shorter than your friend and lover and much angrier too. The woman has some sort of bundle clutched behind her back. She points an accusatory finger towards you and says something…It’s “you”…for some reason you know that she’s speaking in Old French and you can understand the language for some reason.

Your head burns as this forms thoughts burrow their way into your mind. It speaks in a voice all its own. “Good day, my Lady. I hope I am not late for our appointment.” It makes a sweeping gesture over the remains of the former knights. There are patterns and markings tattooed and scarred into that hand. “A little impediment held me up. I ask your forgiveness.”

Her eyes glow as if alight with a clear flame as she speaks. “Forgive you, how could I ever do such a thing? After all of the death you’ve left in your wake and all of those poor children…you-my boy-YOU KILLED MY SON!”
“Which one? Many have held such a distinction.” You think this body is smiling in almost a rictus grin.

“Bastard” She withdraws an elegant longsword from the bundle behind her back. This body’s thoughts overwhelm your own. (The way she grasps its hilt is comical; weak. To see her hold that great blade like that is a travesty…you to wish wrench it from her grasp and use it to cleave her head from her shoulders.)

“OH THAT ONE! You did such a fine job of raising him. Look at all he accomplished…Can you really say I killed him? He was wasting away for years. After pondering over deeds his and practicing all know forms of atonement, he begged me to finish him off, once that letter fell into his lap. I merely put him out of his misery. I did the same for that cuckold king. I gave them mercy—just like all the others…”

“Enough of your lies.” She screams.

You feel a sharp pain across your face. She cut you despite the distance. Your hand goes to your face feeling for something. Your expression changes to a grim one “You tart…how dare you?” (She may be a lousy swordswoman…but that sword knows what to do when faced with an aggressor—attack it head on. How annoying. You need to end this soon.)

She’s slashing with the blade, not at you but at the air—er—water down here. She’s carving a rune into it. (Perfect, just what you wanted!) Your finger begins to draw a glyph of your own. You place your fingers together in the center, then, draw something like a question mark up from that with your index…You lose track of your hands; your more focused on the woman. Her sigil is complete and you feel the weight of all of the water around you doubling and tripling…it’s like you’re being crushed in a vortex. You’re being whirled about in a maelstrom of blue magic. She disappears from your sight…no she’s in front of you and she’s running you through with the blade

“Too late” you bring you hand down in one lazy slash. The blue magic is met with gold light. Your ghastly entourage of dead vines, decaying leaves, pallid yellow pine branches, and black miasma springs into being and swirls around the woman. (A perfectly executed trap) You sight of things…(The legendary weapon embedded deep in your chest has done its work, but can you hear those harsh gasps?…She is choking to death. Such sweet music)

~“Tell me, is the pain not…exquisite?”
You open your eyes to find yourself back in your little rabbit form. You’re surrounded by pines and misty air, again. These, however, are green and healthy—Scots Pines. You glance around…a glen…a lazy mountain stream. You know this place too well. It’s your “birthplace”. In the distance you can make out a moving shape…No…You’re not back there again. You squint to find her just as you first saw her—a small girl struggling under the weight of her pack and the harsh highland terrain.

You try to fight your body. You still have no control. Your lips open and you hear a voice only partially your own.

There’s no way. You don’t want to live through this all a second time. Your screams can only ring out in your mind. "Please, someone, anyone HELP ME!"

Chapter Two Ends
A.) Chapel+Perilous⟹B.)
“Octavian! Honey wake up. Look at me, I’m right here.”

You open your eyes…you think they’re really yours this time. Jeanette’s looking down at you. She’s pale—clearly frightened and almost straddling you between her arms and torso. Gazing around her, you can see you’re back in Alice’s temporary bedroom. It’s still dark out. It must be early morning or still late at night.

“Octavian, you started thrashing around in your sleep. Then your eyes opened up and you mouth did too. It looked like you were trying to scream but no sound was coming out. You kept trying to wrap your little paws around the center of chest like you got hurt, bad. I tried magic, did it help?”

You tentatively try to move your limbs…whew, you can move everything around. “It might have done something, Jen…My head still feels like I got hit by a falling cinderblock.”

“Octavian, that’s what happens when you drink too much. You get a hangover…Remember last night with the cream…I think you passed out. Is something the matter?”
Should you tell her about…that
>I just had a bad dream.
>I saw things, terrible things…I don’t want to talk about them.
>I saw thing, terrible things…where do I start…
>Jen, don’t worry about it. We’ve got stuff to do.
>Write in/something else/some logical combination of responses.

This really isn't the deepest choice, but i need to take a break after writing all those horror scenes. I wanted to go much further into starting your day, but it would be pages before the next vote would come otherwise.

>Also as a more informal vote: do you have anything you want to do in particular today? Remember, you do have a busy day with Alice's ritual and after tomorrow it might be a very long time before you see the Durands again.
>Do you have anything you want to see or do on the road south to Madison?
>I saw thing, terrible things…where do I start…
Get a better idea of the ritual overall before it starts and see if Jonathon has made any progress on the magic drugs, and maybe tell the Durands about the fairy business.
As for the road to Madison, I'm fine with whatever
>I just had a bad dream.
of course our first experience with dreaming would be a bad one
>I saw thing, terrible things…where do I start…

Not to be that guy but I think you meant things OP
>It's currently 2-1 in favor of talking. I'm not going to close the vote yet as I'm going to have very little time to write today.
>The next update (hopefully/fingers crossed) should come out on Tuesday in the afternoon or evening (est).

noted. I'll add that in.

That's Octavian for you. I just said the higher the roll the more you would see, not that Octavian would get to see anything pleasant.

On another note: Octavian is a being that doesn't sleep. So, can he really call what he just experienced dreams? Maybe hallucinations or visions might be more fitting? I mean, they were all just dreams, right? don't mind me. I'm just throwing stuff out there.

Yeah. I rushed out the last part as I wanted to end with a voting option. Originally I was just going to cut it at the chapter end and come back to things later. In my haste, I made a few typos...While we're on the subject of typos.

>I made a fairly major mistake with the last update. I had a different final version in word with a few changes and many typos fixed. I guess I didn't save it to my flash drive, and worse yet, I didn't notice I pasted in the wrong version. It's mostly just correcting typos but the description of a person had some big changes that I need to add in. So consider this a retcon.

>In >>3893011 The woman was wearing a regal WHITE dress on a slender frame. Additionally, she was wearing a circlet of an unusual type of light colored metal, that Octavian has a hard time describing. Also, the woman is barefoot, but her feet look pristine--like she's never set foot on dirty ground, or even walks much.

the dress thing was a mix up with all the other blue stuff in scene. It also might give more context behind "Dream" Octavian's insults--the children comment was a creative way of accusing her of being a whore i.e. wears white like a virgin, but has tons of kids. Obviously the other stuff might be important too

There's a lot of interesting and very specific details in those "dream" sequences.just saying that they're worth noting. You know I like hinting at things. I wonder if anons are (genuine enough) detectives to put the pieces together.
>>I saw thing, terrible things…where do I start…
>I'm still working on the next update as Octavian, but I had a little time at work yesterday, so I wrote this on my phone and emailed to myself. I hope you guys don't mind a brief interlude. Also, I hope you don't mind if I keep the Shirley POV scenario in reserve for a later downtime. It might be relevant to future events.

24 Hours Earlier in a very nervous man’s personal office A man know as Father Flounder tentatively picks up a ringing phone. He waits, listening intently for some time before finally speaking.

“I’ve been awaiting new rules for the scenario as instructed…It’s been forty-eight hours. I don’t know what they teach in your fancy fucking east coast schools, but that’s a God damn long time to leave someone in the dark—especially in this type of situation.”

YES, I know I said I could handle security and the girl went missing on my watch…look…LOOK DAMNIT! I told you earlier that there is an art this type of thing. The process is complicated. It isn’t as simple as slipping some pencil-neck a couple tabs so you can help him jump from a window…or any of that other bullshit you people tried out in the Sixties and Seventies. I did my best within the rules I was given. I couldn’t make her subservient, unquestioning loyal, and distrust everyone.”

“She does distrust outsiders. You should understand what I’m implying with that. She didn’t have an original idea in her life; I saw personally to that. She wouldn’t have ever come up with the idea to run away, even if she was unhappy or traumatized by her role…not that we got that…Right when we were on the cusp of a breakthrough? That’s too much of a coincidence. Someone had to put her up to leaving, and considering the job she did, she had help. Not too many people have knowledge of the place. It had to be someone from the inside and to infiltrate my operation unnoticed…”

“One of the rival players trying to steal my glory, perhaps?...One of them must be responsible.”

“I’ve had my people working with the local PD, we’ve set up grid searches and checkpoints. That’s all we could do without getting the state police involved. I have no control over them, as our current circumstances demonstrate…No luck; we haven’t found a trace of her…She couldn’t have got out of the area on foot, not to mention food or supplies…So like I proposed earlier, she had help.”
You don’t need to reiterate that to me. I understand the value of the subject. I’m committed to the game as much as anyone else. I’ve already lost my best piece following up on a wild goose chase.

No not him, I don’t want to hear his name. He was an incompetent buffoon and I would have gotten rid of him years ago if I didn’t need him…He was the only way to motivate the woman. She was my best man in so many ways…Yes, I tried to win Shirley’s affection the normal way…guess I’ve lost my touch…Yeah she was really hung up on him. God knows what she saw in that brother of hers…No, I’m bigger…you couldn’t have forgotten out in California…I did put on such a good performance for them. I bet they didn’t expect that from an egghead.

Yes, yes, it’s a shame we’ve lost her for good this time. I know you’ve seen her test scores from the program—remarkable numbers for a wildflower and such she’s such an adaptable one in the field and in other ways too. I certainly enjoyed my time with her—even if I had to turn her into a bit of cold fish in bed. Shame I couldn’t go further under my ruleset. I would have loved to see what our children could have accomplished in the game. She had so many traits I don’t possess and if they inherited my gift…Well, we can’t cry over spilt milk. We should have lost her after her little incident over in Madison when she was just a teen. It was pure happenstance that she slipped the police and found this place all those years ago…just like Alice did.”

“Yes that too is a shame…Wait, what? Repeat that.”

THAT FUCKING OXYGEN THIEF JOSESPH! I should have killed him years ago.”

“I had to take such measures in his programming after the last time I trusted him with a task. Do you know how hard it is to make a cooler full of human organs vanish and replace it with a cooler full of fish. I had to blow half my research budget on bribes for the ones I couldn’t ‘talk some sense’ into…Well I didn’t have much time and my gift doesn’t work over video conferencing. It was the only way.”

“She’s in police custody and the hospital is under guard…That’s a problem. She knows my entire operation. If she starts recalling things and decides to talk, we all have a serious problem. I need to…”

“After all I’ve done for them they run to that two-bit…He never led anything. He was just one their children and not the brightest spark at that. Why he didn’t get sold off for pleasure or parts, I haven’t the faintest clue. Then, He was just a hanger on with the remnant, at best. He’s another piece like the rest of us. Christ Almighty, he couldn’t speak in complete sentences until some poor bastard at West Point smacked some sense into him…They must know he failed up for his entire God Damn career. I don’t know what doddering old man found it prudent to pin a silver eagle on him.”

“Of course his operation looks like a clusterfuck in the making. Bastard should have got fragged in the field. Let me contribute. I have men trained in this sort of thing. He deals with the police and the cameras and I’ll have my people silence her. We can play this off as a mob thing. I’m sure you have some people in custody that are known for such a degree of violence…Call it a favor to the tax payers.”

“May I remind you that you owe me—your uncle owes me, too…who else could get him a new heart for such a low price on such short notice?”

“I’ll send them over to rendezvous with the tier one boys. I have to pull them off the search and field less than suitable replacements for the time being. If they aren’t there in three hours from now call me.”

“Yes, I’ll keep you briefed on the girl. Maybe you could send some of that manpower my way once we deal with Shirley. I could use a competent tracker or two…Yes as we both swore that oath…For our enlightenment in yellow sun and to hasten the return of our nameless master, I pray for success in this new scenario...Let the game commence.”
>My apologies for being so late with the update. I've been having really bad writer's block for the past few days.
>I'll try to force my way through and get something out today or early tomorrow. Thank you for your patience.
No problem, man.
No worries, QM.
“Yeah” you say as you watch the look of concern intensify on Jeanette’s face. As you gaze into her eyes, she calls your name and you feel a gentle caress trace the length of one of your ears. Part of you hates this feeling of pity, and another part of you of you doesn’t feel like you deserve this. You’ve seen women make this exact face before—they were mothers of some your contractees. You’ve seen that particular maternal look many times across the decades from confused women trying to kiss away their baby’s tears, to concern at awkward unanswered questions. You feel disgusted to think that you played a major role in their children’s suffering. What would you feel like if the tables were turned and someone else held Alice’s contract and they had no desire for her to live a happy life? What face would you make when you tried to ease her pain? What face would you make when you found her dead? Would you defy your biology and cry when they put her in the ground? Maybe you would craw in her casket to face a slow death with her.

You turn your thoughts away from such dark thoughts. Your dreams—if you could even call them that—have soured your mood. “Jen, it’s not like that. I’m fine right now it’s just…I saw things—terrible things. I-I…”

“Well it was just a bad dream. I’m here right now; it’s not like any of it was real, so you’re safe.” She lifts your head in her hands.

“I just…I don’t know. I’ve never had dreams before. I don’t know if they’re normally that vivid. I could feel things—you know touch, taste, smell…It all felt so real.”

Jeanette’s expression changes to a more inquisitive one. “Octavian, Honey, you’ve never had a dream before? But you’re so much older than me. How is that possible?”

“I-I don’t actually sleep. I don’t really need to; never have.”

She seems genuinely curious. “You don’t sleep? So…what do you do every night?” She just trails off.

You take this as a prompt to speak. “Before Alice and before Titania, I use to be a nocturnal sort of creature. I couldn’t move around much during the day, so I would wait it out. I could attend to my affairs or go out with my contractees after everyone else was sleeping…Most nights these days; I just close my eyes and think. Sometimes, I let my mind go blank and bide the time till I’m needed.” Judging by the size of her eyes, you must have really surprised Jeanette with this answer.”It’s easier than you think once you’ve gotten use to it…I’ve had a lot of time for practice while I’ve been watching Alice.”
Jeanette looks you over like a wounded animal. “Octavian, I’m sorry. I don’t know how you lived like that; I couldn’t. I’ve read stories. You know, people go crazy from that sort of thing…”

You cut her off. “I’m not a regular person at all, that much is sure, but it’s possible I’ve cracked up a little over the years.”

She places her forehead to yours. “It’s alright honey. You know I’m not all there either. We’re just two nuts in our own asylum…together.” She waits a moment before speaking again with a hint of playfulness in her voice. “Someone told me it’s good to get things off your chest.” She tickles the back of your head. “Would you like to tell me about what you saw?”

“Okay” you answer with some trepidation. “But like I said earlier, I saw terrible things and some of the stuff was pretty strange—at points I was even something, someone else…”

“I’ve never been another person in my dreams, but I guess it can happen. I won’t judge you…So how did it start?”

“I wasn’t me. I was a person—well, sometimes I was me. But starting off, I was the pied piper. I rounded up all the children and I led them into the water to drown. I went in first though, and I watched everything from underwater. After a while, all my old contractees jumped in the river too…”

“Did you see Alice and me?”

Your mind goes back to the woman at the bottom of the river. You decide not to mention her. “I didn’t see you but Alice grabbed me at the end before her mother killed me…It was pretty horrible.”

“Yeah that sounds like you had a nightmare…”

“Jen, I’m not finished yet. After that, I woke up in my body. I was submerged in some strange lake, except this lake was of filled with some odd substance that wasn’t water. When I got to the surface, I realized that I was in the middle of a misty, dying pine forest and the night sky looked like something that Van Gogh might have painted.”

“That must have been scary, Octavian.”

“You see that’s the thing. I wasn’t scared at all. I was totally relaxed there.” Jeanette looks confused once again. “I don’t know why I felt that way either. So anyway, I saw something that looked like a building in the distance, and I wanted to get back to you and Alice, so I walked into the forest towards it. The fog got bad and I never wound up there. I think I wound up in a different forest.”

“You walked through the mist and wound up in a different place.” She looks over to a familiar book on the nightstand. “That sounds like how people and fae travel between the otherworld…” She turns her attention back to you and explains. “I read more while you were out and I looked up more stuff on my phone. I wanted to stay up to make sure you didn’t wind up choking if you had to throw up or something…Um, maybe you felt so comfortable in that other place because it was your home in the Aos Sea-er- whatever it’s called.”
You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know about that, but I still saw more things. I wasn’t alone in that forest there was a group of men there with a hostage. They must have been a cult or something. They were chanting, but I couldn’t understand the language. I watched them sacrifice a young man and toss his body in a bog.”

“Huh, kind of reminds me of something I saw on documentary program once. People have pulled really old human remains out of peat bogs in Europe. At first, archeologists thought were just random criminals that got executed or just murder victims. But eventually some scholars proposed that the bodies could have been from human sacrifices. Apparently some Celtic tribes would do that with their young nobles. That sounds a lot like what you described.”

“I didn’t know that, Jen. I don’t know why I was dreaming about it. I heard some voice talking to me and then...” You hesitate over talking about the next part. “…Well, things got weirder.”

“Come on sweetie; don’t leave me hanging like that. I promise I won’t judge you. Everyone has strange nightmares now and then.”

You pause to think of the best way to describe it. “I was a different thing again—maybe some kind of monster. I was underwater again, except in some kind of palace. I killed some knights. Some of them were people but some were a lot smaller…I think they could have been other fairies. Well…Jen, I told you this is weird. I got in a fight with a woman in a white dress that looked a lot like you…” Jen perks up as you mention this. “It was a close resemblance, and she had the same color eyes and hair, but she didn’t look exactly like you. She was much shorter, had long hair…and” You find yourself stumbling over a way to say thinner and less busty without accidentally insulting Jeanette. “…She had a different build than you, and she spoke French—well we were both speaking French, I think.”

Jeanette looks off into the distance then back at you. “French? You could have guessed that from my name, but…Octavian… did I show you a picture of my mom last night?” You shake your head in the negative. “That sounds a lot like her…I didn’t tell you I’m French either. I mean I’m part French. My mom was from France. My dad met her over there. He’s some sort of American mutt, although, I’m pretty sure there’s some Scandinavian in there because my Dad and I are tall. Of course I was born over here in the US…”

You can tell from her rambling tone that something is bothering her. You don’t really want to distress her any further with your dreams. “I’m sure it wasn’t her; we were both speaking old-timey French. Like you said, it’s just a dream. I wouldn’t get too worked up over some coincidental details.” You sit up and reach your paw to her face.

She clasps her hand around yours and places your paw on her cheek. “Sorry…sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Jen, if you would like to share, I wouldn’t mind hearing all about your family.”

She immediately frowns “Octavian it’s a bit of a sore subject for me, but…if we’re a couple, you’ll just ask me again later…and you should know this kind of stuff. Anyway, where to start? Umm…my Mom’s name was Marie and like I said earlier she met my Dad when he was on some sort of overseas business trip. She uh, was a ballerina back then like I...That’s why I wanted to…” She shakes her head and gets back to talking. “Well, I don’t really know how they first met or what she saw in him, but they had a fling and...that’s where I come in to the picture. I don’t know why my mom kept me—I kind of ruined her career…It’s not like there’s much work for a pregnant dancer and she was apparently on bad terms with her family, so she got back in touch with my Dad, married him, came over here, and had me. When I got a little older, she decided to get into the restaurant business. She was a good cook and she worked hard, so she was successful—unlike…”

You lever yourself up and press your lips to hers before she can continue. You let the kiss linger for a moment before you break it. “Thanks Octavian. I need that. Well, you already know how the rest of the story turns out.”

“What about your Dad?”

“His name is William and he’s the most boring person I’ve ever met. He’s good with numbers and paperwork. Total workaholic, too. He was away a lot when I was kid. You know, he had to travel for work. Then Mom got sick and I got in my accident, so he retired. I mean, He was a good Dad and I love him and all that, but after all these years I still don’t understand him as a person or how he got with Mom in the first place.”

“I’ve changed a lot since Alice came along, and I’ve been told the same holds true for people. He could have been a very different person when he first met your mother.” You offer.

Jeanette stifles a giggle before quipping sarcastically: “Yeah, I bet he’s just like you. Maybe he was a magical bunny accountant and was over in Europe filing Merlin’s tax forms or something. Silly rabbit!” She rolls off of you and picks up her phone off of the nightstand. “It’s only a little after a quarter to four and there’s no way I’m going back to bed.”

“I never sleep, Jen. So, why don’t you get ready and we can do something together…” You remember something from last night. “Jen, is there a scale in that bathroom?”

“Yes, but way to ruin the mood, Octavian. Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a girl her weight?” You put on your serious face and turn to gaze into her eyes. “Wow you really have the Dad look mastered…”

“Jen, please, you know why I’m asking about this.” You give her a quick peck on the lips. “That should speak for me and Alice would be really sad if you got sick.”
“Mmm. Okay, honey, but I have some ground rules. I’m not going to look at the number, don’t say my weight out loud or tell me about it later. And…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “You’re going to have to give me a kiss afterwards, no matter what.”

“Deal” escapes your mouth quickly.

Jeanette gives you an awkward smile. “So I’m going to get some clothes real quick. It’s not like I want to walk around in this nightgown or my magical girl outfit all day.” Before you can complain she gets out of bed and starts rummaging around in her pile of clothes in the corner of the room. She picks up the pair of jeans she wore yesterday and what you think is the white blouse she was wearing when you first met. She quickly stuffs some items—you think you can make out lace—between the two garments, before looking back to you. She sticks her tongue out at you and remarks “No peeping!” Like you’ve never seen girl’s undergarments before in your long life. She beckons you to follow her and you both retreat into the bathroom.

You’ve spent very little time in human bathrooms, due to your nature, but this one seems rather standard for one, if not a little small, but—thankfully—it’s clean. You recognize the various bottles and toiletries scattered around the sink and tub, you stole most them for Alice. There’s one small case sitting on the sink, with a hairbrush sitting on top of it. All of that stuff must be Jeanette’s. She sets her clothes down next to the items on the sink and picks you up and sets you down on top of the pile, before stooping down and pulling the scale into the center of the room. Her eyes linger on you for a while. It’s the first time you’ve seen someone muster courage for such a trivial task.

“Octavian, I’m only going to do this once, okay?” You nod back to her. She closes her eyes and steps backwards onto the scale in what looks like a practiced sort of motion. You peer over the edge of the counter, waiting for the digital display to settle on a number. It takes you a moment to read the display backwards. One-hundred and ten, point five. You stop yourself from saying the number out loud as you ponder things. You really wish you know what a normal weight was for a woman Jeanette’s size. Other questions start coming to mind. If only you had access to Matilda’s library again…although you do suppose those medical texts might be out of date…wait, Jeanette said she looked up information on her phone last night. You might need to ask her to show you how you could use it…
“Octavian are you finished yet?” You stammer out a “Yes” and Jeanette of stumbles forward off of the scale. You can hear her faintly hear her count to thirty under her breath, before she opens her eyes. Without a word, she stoops to your level and tilts her head to one side in a motion you now recognize. She’s waiting for you to hold up your end of the barging. You do so, wrapping your arms around her head and kissing her lips. She responds immediately, by wrapping her arms around you and putting more force and passion into this kiss than the ones earlier this morning. You’re not sure what makes this time different from the others; why she feels the need to act this way now. Her fingers rub circles in your fur as her lips clamp hard to yours. She grabs you up, holding you tight as she turns and straightens herself back to her full height. Your head spins and you try not to kick your feet as you dangle from her grasp. She seems more comfortable in this position, however you’re not, but you won’t let that get in the way. You do your best to keep up with her. In the silence of the room, you can hear the little coos she makes as repostes each of your kisses with one or two of her own.

She gives you a gentler kiss before breaking her stranglehold over your face. “Whew, if only a sweet guy like you gave me a kiss like that after each check up I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to quit therapy…” She says between heavy breaths. She finally seems to take notice of your predicament and sets you down on the counter next to her hip. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away. I hope I didn’t scare you, Octavian.”

“I didn’t mind. I could tell you weren’t comfortable bent over like that. I could have used my powers to break my fall if you dropped me, anyway.”

“Hmm…didn’t think of that. Floating kisses” She muses as she walks over and turns on the shower tap.

“Jen, I should get going if…”

“No” she says as she cuts you off. “You can stay here with me as long as you keep your eyes closed and don’t peep when I get into the shower.” She looks down at the ground. “I know it’s silly, but I get lonely when I when I do these things in the morning. I miss having someone wake me up in the morning and talk to me in the bathroom. I miss having to rush to make it to work on time…I miss my old life, Octavian…So keep me company, alright.”

“Then, I’ll stay.”
Jen smiles as you say this, before breaking out a serious face you think only a teacher can make. “Well the water’s hot, so you need to close your eyes. I swear you’ll drown for real this time if I catch you looking.” You comply with her request and you can hear the shower curtain close. She keeps talking to you as she washes up. She picked up on your phobia of water and other liquids from your dreams. She found it odd, but understood that you take a small eternity to dry. You learned she use to wear her hair longer; one of the many ways she attempted to emulate her mother, but switched to her current cut for practicality’s sake. She’s also just a squeamish as you in regards to blood, maybe even more so. Jen confirmed your suspicion that she got into ballet to please her mother, before she found her own passion in it. Finally, you learned she can’t really say much in French despite taking in it classes, as her Mother spoke to her exclusively in English, outside a phrase or two. She insisted that Jeanette should be an “ordinary American girl”. Neither of you are sure what that means.

You cover your eyes with your paws as you hear the flow of water and small talk ceases. For what feels like a small eternity all you can hear are rustling noises. A faint “Hey, Octavian” prompts you to open your eyes. Jeanette has her back to you and is mostly clothed. She’s adjusts something, and then starts buttoning her blouse. “This might be another strange request, but if I put you on the tank of the toilet, do you think you could reach enough to brush my hair?” She continues on if she’s talking to herself. “It’s just…It’s something I like and it’s been a long time since anyone would do it for me…Dan it was a childish for me to ask.”

“Jen, I think I understand what you’re saying…and I wouldn’t mind doing that for you.” She turns and scoops you up into a hug as soon as you answer her, despite her midriff still being exposed and her cuffs open. After that, you’re learning how to work tangles from human hair and how much pressure to use when brushing one’s hair. You never imagined you would be spending time learning such things…although, it’s all worth it when Jeanette decided to brush you in return. To think you spent magic to clean your fur in a less pleasurable manner. What a waste!
Jeanette and you are both surprised to see Sam awake in the living room. Before he took notice of you, he was staring blank faced at the muted television, which was displaying some ad. He greets the two of you flatly.

“I hope I didn’t wake you with the shower? I couldn’t sleep.” Jeanette states.

“I couldn’t either. It’s one of the downsides of getting old. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you’d like some.

You don’t answer. However, Jeanette asks a second question. “What’s wrong; why are you so glum?”

He looks back to the two of you. “You must not have seen the news.” He flips the television to a different channel. The screen is filled with images of black smoke, burning debris, and first responders. The ticker tells you the rest: Attack on Wisconsin hospital. Twenty-six confirmed dead, many more are missing. Additional casualties are expected. No organization has claimed credit for the attack, but terrorism is suspected. Sam turns off the television and starts to talk to you once again. ”That place isn’t too far from here. Apparently, a bunch of masked lunatics shot the hospital up, before a massive explosion leveled the building a couple of hours ago. It’s an absolutely senseless act. I don’t know what wrong with people these days?”

Jeanette shakes her head. You muse out loud in return: “Neither do I and I’ve seen things from an outsider’s prospective.”
You can’t dwell on grim news forever. What should you do next?
>Maybe Jeanette should get that book from last night, as you have a few questions for Sam about this fairy business. (Write in what you want to ask)
>Jonathan mentioned a Nana…Nanabozho last night and a bunch of stuff about spirits. Ask Sam what the heck is that about?
>It might be a too early for target practice, but Sam seems to know guns and he wanted to see Jeanette’s handguns and ammo. Maybe, he can help out her in some way.
>Wait, Sam is a shaman, so he’s probably familiar with dreams and visions. He might have some insight on the things you saw.
>Head off with Jeanette when she goes to get coffee. You want her to show her how to use her cell phone, especially how you can use it to get information. You’re curious about her condition and you need medical knowledge.
>You’re stiff from yesterday and you can only imagine what Jeanette feels like after years of disability. Why not stretch a little and go for a walk with her. (you can also choose to bring along Sam Y/N)
>You don’t know much about cooking, but Jeanette is your girlfriend now…maybe? Human relationships are so odd, but even you know people procure food for their partner. You should try your hand at making breakfast.
>Write in/Something else/Some combination of options.
>Jonathan mentioned a Nana…Nanabozho last night and a bunch of stuff about spirits. Ask Sam what the heck is that about?
>Head off with Jeanette when she goes to get coffee. You want her to show her how to use her cell phone, especially how you can use it to get information. You’re curious about her condition and you need medical knowledge
>It might be a too early for target practice, but Sam seems to know guns and he wanted to see Jeanette’s handguns and ammo. Maybe, he can help out her in some way.
>I’ll support some combination of>>3905000 and >>3905050 if that’s possible
>Calling it here with that combination of votes. I'll get to writing now as I have a few extra obligations today.

>Roll 1d20+1 for reasons.
Rolled 3 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

Rolled 9 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

Rolled 12 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

Rolled 15 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>The 16 takes it. The update's still in the works. If I have enough time it should be out tomorrow.
Just a quick status report. I didn't get quite as much done today as I would have liked. I still have one part left to finish in the morning. I really hoped I would have had this done by now.
No worries.
To start off the thread is now archived.

Now for the very late update. I realized that I left out one of the chosen options and I had to rewrite the entire middle section between last night and today.

Octavian avoids acting like a total boomer in regards to new technology (even though he's actually a member of the silent generation) or stressing out Jeanette with his searches.

You turn your attention away from the man and back to the distraction provide by the silent video on the television. The footage cuts back to a reporter at some sort of military or police cordon monologuing away, as those types are prone to doing. The mute button proved a good counter against such behavior. You could try to read her lips, but instead you survey the people in the background. The area is oddly calm for being in the vicinity of such a chaotic event. It's more of wake than a riot. You suppose the officers are just there to keep the reporters from rushing head long into burning, unstable ruins in search of an exclusive. Amid the other humans you can make out tired firefighters, returning to their staging area, and ,what you presume are, ordinary people in search of their loved ones. Off near the edge of the picture is a middle aged woman, grieving for a lost child or husband, being comforted by someone in tactical gear. The sight stirs up hazy memories from a lifetime ago—watching on as Ellen and Hilda tore apart ruined buildings looking for survivors.

"Before, I never understood things like this." You state out loud to no one in particular. "I could wrap my head around war—to desire more territory and the resources within it, strategy and numbers, along with self defense are all logical things...but the hate and zeal behind certain human actions, like indiscriminate bombing eluded me. In my first days, I theorized that there was some fundamental flaw in humanity...I proffered emotions as the most likely culprit, and in a lot of ways I was right. But..." You outstretch your free paw—the one not pinned by Jeanette's grasp—and gesture to the touching scene near the edge of the picture. "Emotions produce reactions like that too. I observed the same in Ellen's actions, along with the rest of the people of Briton, in the wake of the air raids. It all confounded me...My emotions have made so many things clearer to me, but I still have so many questions still unanswered. I understand the 'how' behind so many things, but the 'why' still eludes me. It's all so confusing."
You let yourself trail off, realizing how nonsensical you must sound to Sam and Jeanette. You decide to offer an excuse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ramble there. I didn't get much sleep last night, just like everyone else here."

Sam shakes his head "There's nothing to be sorry for. We live in strange times—things must be even stranger for a spirit like yourself, especially if you've been bent by human will."

You nod. His statement raises a few questions in relation to fairies and spirits in your mind, but before you can answer you hear a soft "Octavian" coming from Jeanette, behind you. You squirm in her grasp to orient your body into facing her.

“Octavian, you mentioned air raids. Did you fight in World War II?” There’s a mixture of hesitation and curiosity in her voice.

Almost automatically you respond: “I didn’t, but my first contractee did, in a manner of speaking. It was a dangerous time…”

Thanks to Ellen it was a dangerous time, even for you. Hilda’s contractor wanted you dead in the aftermath of Ellen’s death and Hilda had direct orders to assassinate you. According to the girl, you were deemed a threat to the secrecy of magic. In all likelihood, her contractor just wanted to eliminate the competition, with the war being a distant but possible ulterior motive. Looking back it was somewhat ironic that you were saved from becoming another casualty and owe your entire life now to a half-breed, who spent the majority of her childhood in Germany. For a reason all her own, Hilda put you on her father’s ship instead following through with her orders. Maybe, she felt sorry for you as a newborn being, as Ellen’s other “friend”, or as a fellow outsider. Possibly, she realized that fighting you was a suicide mission meant to kill you both…You realize something else. Either Hilda was lying about her contractor’s location in Germany or she had the ability to communicate over great distances with her contractee. If she told you the truth, maybe you are capable of such a feat yourself.

“…Speaking of dangerous times…” You state, gesturing back to the news footage as you change the subject. “…Sam did you find that ammunition last night? Also, I believe you wanted to access the damage to the other firearm we recovered?”
“Sure to both” he states. “The cartridges were buried under other stuff in my safe; must have tossed the boxes because I found the rounds in freezer bags. Mix of higher pressure hollow points for defense and more vanilla FMJ’s for practice or plinking—I remember I used some of both, so you’ve got a little less than a hundred rounds in total. I didn’t count them out. You’re welcome to them…As far as looking over what you found, I’m not really doing anything right now and it’s a welcome distraction from this…” He points to the television. “… Although if you two are heading outside, could you check for the paper?” Jeanette just nods and carries you out towards the car.

As Jeanette sets you and the ground and goes to unlock her car, you notice how silent she’s been since you’ve been talking to Sam. This bugs you. Something must be on her mind. Rather than intrude on her thoughts, you decide to talk to her. “Jeanette is something bothering you?”

“Kinda” She answers as she rummages around in her glove box. “This is all a bunch of hypotheticals, but Octavian, if you won out over Alice and left me passed out on that restroom, There’s a good chance I might have got sent to the hospital if someone else found me…If I was sent to the hospital there’s I would have wound up at that one. And If I didn’t wake up to check myself out in time I might have gotten killed by the gunmen or the blast. It just made me think of how lucky I am that everything turned out like it did and how glad I am that I got the chance to meet Alice and you.” She stops what she’s doing, walks over, picks you up, sets you down on the passenger seat, and looks over you.

It hits you too. You’re dumbstruck. How many small coincidences dictated the events of your life? You stumbled upon Ellen in woods by chance, lonely as despite as she ran away from an orphanage. Hilda decided to put you on a boat to get rid of you—a ship bound for America. Matilda got board and decided to wander the city on the very day you arrived in New York. She found you in the trash and decided to take you home with her. Any number of small changes and you wouldn’t be here in this moment. What would happen if Jessica hadn’t found Titania snooping on her club house? What if, for any number of reasons, Titania didn’t get pregnant? Where you would you be now if tiny baby Alice didn’t make it or if that box wound up somewhere else…You stop yourself before you get too engrossed in what-if-scenarios.

“The same can be said for me. I could have easily wound up somewhere as entirely different being.” You say out loud. “I glad I met you too; you and Alice…I don’t know what to make of what’s going on in my head right now, but I’m feeling something. I think the words I should say are…I love you, Jen.”
Jeanette goes down on one knee to bring herself level to your and wraps herself around you. She whispers into your ear. “I love you too, Octavian.” She giggles and pats you on the head. Once she stops laughing she remarks: “Silly rabbit, I knew you could figure out how to be romantic if you set your mind to it.” She turns her attention away from you and produced both of her weapons from the messy compartment. “Now you’re going to have to walk, lover boy. Think you can manage?”

You hop into the air and Jeanette’s eyes go wide as you stay there. “What? You’ve seen me levitate objects before. May I remind you that I taught you how to fly? I obviously taught myself first.” You stick your tongue out at her and float out of the car, spinning a lazy circle around her head before landing on your feet. The look on face was worth the additional millisecond of life your magic consumed in the process. “…But for the sake of appearances I think should walk.”

She laughs again at your antics. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from my fairy god-boyfriend.”
When you return there’s two freezer bags of amunition sitting on the coffee table along with what you presume are cleaning supplies, and a second cup of coffee for Jeanette. Sam is somewhat disappointed by his lack of a morning paper but consoles himself by looking over the black pistol Jeanette set in his hands. He turns it over a couple times in his hands as he speaks. “Glock 22, this is a full size .40 caliber pistol…” He looks back to Jeanette “…It takes a different round than your revolver and don’t try to mix them. I don’t have any .40S&W on hand at the moment—I’m more of a .45 guy.” He rubs at a blemish in the slide before racking it back. “Its finish is a little scuffed up; some from being holstered, some from falling off my roof. I see what you were talking about with the rear sight, but that’s easily replaceable and not a big deal. I’m sure my friend has a set of stock sights lying around after someone bought something aftermarket. Also, the barrel is a little dirty. Considering the wendigo you fought was wearing a state trooper, it was probably that guy’s sidearm. In other words, it’s missing state property, so I wouldn’t try to sell it.”

“Great!” Jeanette snarks. “What should I do with it?”
“Well, turning it into the police might raise a lot of questions and there aren’t too many guys like me that would buy your answers. I know both sides of that coin from personal experience. If you do insist on doing something like that, try tribal police and hope a guy like me shows up…or an agent with the national parks service might be your best bet—those guys know things. That leaves two options. You can wipe it down and get rid of it—which I can help with—or, you can keep it.” You can both tell Jeanette’s not the happiest with this. The old man continues “Look, there’s a lot of guns in circulation; some of them with pretty checkered pasts. As long as you don’t do anything to arouse suspicion, you won’t have to answer any questions. That’s doubly true when you’re dealing with the supernatural. Jeanette, I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but you swam in to the deep end the minute you signed up to fight monsters. You’re going to wind up breaking a few laws here and there. You’re going to see things you can never mention to anyone, least they believe you crazy, at best. Your life is going to be one big conspiracy theory…Whatever you choose; it’s up to you in the end.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jeanette says somewhat annoyed.

“Until you make your decision, humor me for a little while.” Sam hands her back the gun. “Stand that way and show me how you would shoot it.” Jeanette holds one arm with the gun out in front of her. “No, dear, you have two hands for a reason. Use them…Don’t slouch and you want your feet a little further apart.”
This exercise continues for some time. Sam walks Jeanette through various scenarios and coaches her on her posture, different sorts of stances, and controlling her breathing. It’s all Greek to you. You’ve never found much use for firearms, but your magic is different from Jeanette’s. Instead you focus on the way her body moves—magic amplifying a dancer’s grace. You’re pleased with your handiwork; you can’t help but admire it...or maybe Jen had a point with all those comments about you being a pervert. Your mind has a hard time parsing one type of pleasure from another—stupid human feelings.
He laughs. ”You are a spirit, Octavian. I’ve seen others and my vision makes that as clear as day to me. Spirits are an important thing to my people there are many of them out there…Although, besides that bear I saw with Nancy, you might be the first benevolent one I’ve seen in my lifetime. Honestly, I lost a lot of my faith over the years. It’s confusing to hear that the Spirits loved your people, Only to grow up and realize that your people are suffering and the only spirits that bother with them now are curses and monsters…”You barely manage to keep your poker face. It’s better to let him believe a lie than tell him the truth.

“Nanabozho is one of the Spirits and important figure in our mythology. He’s a trickster and a shapeshifter. He’s partial to the form of a big rabbit and that’s how he first came to our people. However, he had many other forms that borrowed from other mythical animal spirits after he conquered or tricked them. Anyway, he had a hand in creating the world as he was the spirit of the west, itself. As he was a wise spirit, The Great Spirit tasked him with teaching our people, so Nanabozho came to Earth. Once he was there, he set out and named all the plants and animals. He then found our people, taught us those names, our old written language, about medicine and sacred rites, and about fishing—all things very important to our people.”

“Okay…” You take his silence as a cue to continue. “Frankly, I have no clue what I am or where I came from. I just woke up one day and I knew certain things about magic…” You decide to leave you exact biology vague. “…I knew I could share it with humans, so I did. Make of that what you will, but I don’t feel like some old creation spirit…After Jeanette and I looked over Jonathan’s notes last night, we were both pretty convinced that I might be a fairy. I don’t really know what to make of any of this.”

Sam shrugs as he unzips the revolver’s case to clean the weapon. “Spirit or Fairy I don’t know the difference and I don’t think it matters. It could all be different words for the same thing. Like I told Jonathan, you could be a child of Nanazaboho. If not, maybe you were one of the white man’s Spirits, before that Christ fellow came along, or one of their lost children.”

“Please don’t tell Alice that.” You blurt out.

Sam stops for a moment and looks over the revolver. He must have noticed the magic coming off of it. He smiles and starts talking again. “I understand the young one’s predicament. Her entire life is defined by her beliefs. I too was like that as young man…” Samuel sighs. “…To her you’re an angel and to me that might as well be another name for a spirit. But when she’s around an angel you will be.”

“Thank you” you say solemnly.
Sam turns his attention back to Jeanette. “I can finish up cleaning these. I think you got the jist of the process and I can write down what lubricants and solvents I use…How about you take Octavian and make another pot of coffee…” You swear he just winked at you. How did they both figure it out? “…I could use another cup. Oh and remind me to get Jonathan to show me how to text again. I’m sure I can find you a holster for a J-frame on short notice…also I need to let my friend know if you want the Glock repaired.”

Jeanette agrees and you follow her into the kitchen. Sam’s last statement reminded you of your desire to learn how these new phones work. It sounds like they could connect to the internet like a computer. How things change! You wait for her to finish putting everything in the coffee maker before you float onto the kitchen counter to get a better look at Jeanette as you speak. “Jen, Sam reminded me that of something. Could you teach me how to use your cell phone? I saw it before we first met and I would have called for help, but I didn’t know how to use it. I don’t want that to happen again.”

She takes the tablet like device out of her back pocket and places it on the counter. “Um, I can trust you right. You won’t make any prank calls, log onto my facebook and post weird stuff, or go digging through my photos?”

“What’s a facebook?” You ask sheepishly. “Does that have something to do with how your photos are on your phone?”

“Okay, I think that answers my question. Come closer, Octavian. You see phones do more than place phone calls these days. You can use them as computer, a gps, and a camera all rolled into one. It actually has a bunch of cameras on it.” She points to one near the speaker and picks up the phone .“…and if I point it at my face, it unlocks. Pretty cool, huh.” She shows you a screen with a bunch of multicolored tiles on it. “You because phones can do so much and you can always have it in your pocket, people tend to use them for banking or other private things these days—so they have security on them. Mine is locked with my face and fingerprints, but you can get in by pushing this button and tapping in a pass code. It’s my birthday: zero four, zero eight, ninety.” She puts down the phone and picks up one of your paws. “It might be a good idea to put your fingerprints in too just in case…Aww your paw-pads have little spirals on them, cute…”She traces one of them out on your paw before turning back to the task at hand. “Anyway, the tiles on this bottom row are the most important apps. The first one is the phone, that next one is my email—please don’t use it without my permission, the next one is a music player, and the last one is the internet browser…”
She starts walking you through how to make a phone call. You manage follow her instructions. This device is actually quite simple despite all the functions. You steer the conversation over to the internet and Jeanette shows you how to use it. A keyboard on a screen—what will they think of next!—it’s a bit hard to use with your paws, but you manage. The top bar has a search engine built in, so you just need to type in your questions. You type in “local news” and pretend to read over the results until she walks off with Sam’s coffee. That’s your opportunity. You’ve come to understand that you can read much faster than humans—thanks, Matilda. You only need a minute or two to research your questions. You start off by typing in “healthy weight human female” after some scrolling you find a BMI chart that confirms your worries. Jeanette seems to be severely underweight for her height and further searches suggest a number of dangerous health problems if she remains so. From there you type in “help loved one with eating disorder” and get to looking over the articles apparently such problems are complicated ones and are often tied into other psychological disorders like depression. Emotional support, patience, understanding, and professional therapy are…

“Therapy sucks…That’s some boring reading isn’t?” Jeanette’s voice echoes out from above you.

“Jen, I can explain.” You set down her phone and walk backwards with your paws in the air.

You look up into her eyes waiting for some adverse reaction…but she seems calm instead. “Octavian, I know. I know I have a problem. I not mad at you for trying to find out more…actually I’m flattered that you want to help me…but you could have been truthful with me.”

“I’m sorry, Jen.”

“It’s fine. I know I get stressed out easily. I would have lied to me too…Heck, it might just be part your nature, Octavian, and you couldn’t help yourself. Sam said that spirit was a trickster and all that fairy stuff talked about them being tricksters too. Tricksters, deceivers, and liars are all shades the same thing, in the end.”

“I really am sorry, Jen. I didn’t know what else to do. I have some knowledge of human biology, but not on this sort of stuff. I wanted to help and I needed information—fast. It was the first thing I came up with besides asking you.”

“I kind of figured you were going to do something like this the moment you wanted to know my weight. You might not be able to help yourself but…don’t lie to me about important stuff in the future, okay? I’m letting you off easy this time.”

You nod your head as you say “I promise I won’t”
Jen smiles. “Good…because I really do want your help. I have a daughter and a boyfriend now. I can’t be selfish anymore. I need to change, but I don’t know where to start. I know eating is a good start and it should be simple to do, but for me it’s not. I can’t afford to go back to therapy and I’m not too keen on taking anymore drugs after what I’ve been through.” she picks you and her phone and sets you down along with it at the kitchen table. She changes the subject with a joke like she often does. “…That wasn’t a bad first fight. Most guys wish they got off that easy…by the way you know that browser history is a thing. I was going to look up everything you searched.”

“No I didn’t know that…Jen, if you don’t mind I would like to keep reading those sites…could we do that together. I want to know what you think about some of the advice.”

She brushes back your ears. “Sure honey. Sit in my lap so I can see the screen too.”
It’s still early, but an hour or two before dawn. What do you want to do

>You still have some questions for Sam. Ask him about your dreams.

>You’re headed to Jeanette’s apartment after this. You can hazard a guess that it’s not going to be a big place. You’re not going to have much privacy with Alice and Alonso running around. And after that you’re going to go back to her father’s house. You should spend some quiet time with Jeanette while you still can. She’s your girlfriend now. (is there anything in particular you would like to talk with her about?) (Additionally, would you like to go for a walk or play a game together?)

>You don’t know much about cooking, but Jeanette is your girlfriend now…Maybe?—Human relationships are so odd—But even you know that people procure food for their partner. You should try your hand at making breakfast for Jeanette. You learn best by doing.

>On second thought, Maybe you should wake up Alice and let her make breakfast instead. She knows what she’s doing.

>See if Alonso is awake, and if he is wake up Alice. She did want to try to help him and Sam is awake to assist her.

>You’re curious about the explosion. See what else the news has to say.
Hidden option, we both know that the news isn’t going to say much, but you as the audience aren’t limited to such things…Flashback to Shirley’s POV.

>Write in/something else/some combination of responses.
One other vote: What should Jen do with the Glock

>Keep it. Jeanette looked like she was more comfortable with it than her revolver. And, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important it shouldn’t be a problem…actually, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important outside of a magical barrier and then, leave her prints behind somewhere--if that doesn't happen, it shouldn’t be a problem.

>You don’t feel like taking any chances. It might be a free gun, but leave it with Sam.
I won’t really punish you in anyway for keeping it, but it’s a choice you should have in character.
Ask Sam while Alice makes breakfast

>You still have some questions for Sam. Ask him about your dreams.

Keep it. Jeanette looked like she was more comfortable with it than her revolver. And, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important it shouldn’t be a problem…actually, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important outside of a magical barrier and then, leave her prints behind somewhere--if that doesn't happen, it shouldn’t be a problem.
>You still have some questions for Sam. Ask him about your dreams.

>Keep it. Jeanette looked like she was more comfortable with it than her revolver. And, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important it shouldn’t be a problem…actually, as long as she doesn’t shoot someone important outside of a magical barrier and then, leave her prints behind somewhere--if that doesn't happen, it shouldn’t be a problem.
Supporting this.
>I'll go ahead and close the vote here. Ask Sam about the dreams and wake up Alice to make breakfast.

>Do you want to gloss over some of the more telling details from the first dream that might reflect badly on you? (Y/N) Sam doesn't know about your past
>Also roll 1d20 no crits here for reasons.
Rolled 7 (1d20)

Rolled 20 (1d20)

Well, uh, I wasn't expecting that. Thankfully I have an idea how I can use it.

>I'll go ahead and assume I can get started with the next part. I also want to give you another alternative Pov like in >>3896109 to clarify some of the hospital situation. I don't know which one I'll post first--depends on which one I feel like writing at the time and which one I finish up first.
We hit page ten a little faster than I expected. Just in case this one falls off, a new thread should be up tomorrow evening.

I'm sick with some kind of stomach bug so I'm a bit behind on the update. I hoped I could get one more in this thread, but that's not happening. Thanks for your patience guys.

Delete Post: [File Only] Style:
[Disable Mobile View / Use Desktop Site]

[Enable Mobile View / Use Mobile Site]

All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.