deercountry | SOMETIMES THE ONLY ROAD YOU TAKE IS THE DARKEST || July Catch-All

[Faith is dying. Blood is oozing from her wounds into a sickly bed of acid, and she's staring ahead in raw awful shock. There's a sharp pain in her head, grief reverberating around her skull, her own mixed with... something else - someone else. Does it matter if she's being haunted? A dead girl is impossible to haunt.

She remembers how it felt when there was blood mixed in between her teeth, when Willow was still dead, when she wasn't sure if she would be back. When the Emperor... when whoever he is scooped her up and purged the corruption. Mournful in their losses, but paternal in the way he took care of her. It had felt like, in that moment, they didn't have to be enemies. None of them did. Her and Willow, her and those that lingered in the dark. She'd known, even then, that he was evil. But so is she, so maybe it didn't matter?

She's crushed dreams, hearts, lives - all for no reason other than to hurt herself and to hurt anyone else. Because she's cruel, pathetic and self-centered. She couldn't be a weapon for the side she was supposed to be - the side with Buffy and Willow and Tara and Xander and Angel, so she sold her soul over to the other one.

Willow had killed Maul and Savage without a grimace. She'd enjoyed it, even. But Willow was one of them - the ones that stood with the slayer, the real slayer, like they were born to be good and pure, in a fuzzy sweater and with a nervous fidget.

Willow tore into the man lying a few feet away like he was just an obstacle to hurting her, and she hadn't gone through with killing her after-all. She'd done something worse, stabbing him in the stomach with the knife that was her bond - her connection with the Mayor. The only father she'd ever had, really.

She looked at the way The Emperor or Sensei talked to their assorted collections that she wasn't quite part of with something resembling a deep envy, but she'd never said anything. Any challenge they threw at her she got through effortlessly, but she was never as in-need.

The Emperor wanted to corrupt her, and he'd succeeded at corrupting Willow. Maybe she should have let him. Maybe none of this would have happened if she'd just accepted she was never going to be anything but a killer.

Johnny wanted to help her, and he'd succeeded at helping... someone else. A few people, really, but a name can't escape her lips and she feels her skull killing her in rage and grief and heartbreak.

It doesn't matter now. Faith lies down in the dirt nearby to where Johnny Lawrence lays, with Faith's dagger still buried in his stomach. It's only fair if she dies here. So she just closes her eyes, and focuses on the sounds of the park around her, letting the blood loss take her.

It's only the reckoning she deserves.]

Edited 2022-07-12 18:13 (UTC)

[ When a voice screams in your head, it does not make a sound. Not technically, anyway. There is no sensory input, no vibration striking the eardrum. The call is coming from inside the house.

Instead, it is the firing of the nerves, the pressure and vertigo of a migraine. Blood pounds thickly, the head throbbing a two-syllable name over and over and over again. Your heart hurts -- except it's not yours, not really. It's just one you've stolen, one that's pumping out far too much blood, given the circumstances.

You can't stay here. You can't stay next to him. Someone is dead who should not be, and you have no mouth and no hands and no sword. All you are is a soul, and when has that ever mattered? When has that ever been enough? You scream anyway.

Electricity travels down the spinal column, passing between vertebrae before exiting out into a leg, an arm. They twitch, striking against the pavement, and the message is abundantly clear: it's time to go.

Not that you have much say in the matter, or control over the situation. That depends on whether or not she cedes it to you. ]

[If Faith were stronger in this moment, she would fight back tooth and nail against this violation. If she weren't emotionally broken down three times over, she would have resisted and resisted.

As it is, what she does is attempt to stubbornly cling on to her misery, to the way that her limbs slack and the fight dies inside of her without the electric current of this intrusion. Something is horribly wrong with her body, with her mind, and she has never felt it more clearly than she does now, when something takes it out of her hands.

She should scream. She doesn't want to scream. She wants to die. Her mind echoes with screams that are hers and aren't hers and she feels it in every joint and nerve in her body.

But, as if by instinct, even that resistance gives way. All she can do is cry with the eyes that aren't hers as her arms and legs begin to move and jolt without her. She's always had control, but it's never felt like it before. She would move to the rhythm of her own death, she would take life, she would snuff out hope, she would destroy whatever happiness she feels is owed to her. But now? It's different. It's forceful in a way that it had been previously unconscious.

Except it's still her ceding control. Still her that is so committed to giving up even now that she will give up on giving up. And it's still her that mouths her only message to the stranger occupying the body that is not yet a corpse.

What's happening to me? Her lips move, creating the words without ever speaking them aloud. It reminds her of Buffy. It reminds her of being underneath Buffy's skin herself, and living her life that was so much easier and harder than Faith's life. Because caring is hard, and painful, and not caring is excruciating.]

[ How do you answer yourself? The you-that-is-not-you could move your lips, form stolen words with your throat, your mouth. But what is there to say? There is resistance, at first, and then there is a concession. You, who are a parasite, who can only cry with stolen eyes, takes it.

The stolen body becomes easier to move, less like a beguiling corpse. The grief doesn't go away, and maybe that is how the parasite answers the host. Someone died who should not have. A man died, and he was loved by someone else, and she never even told him. You are so sick of not being able to change things. You are so sick of being powerless.

I'm sorry.

The parasite says something after all, although it's not clear who she's speaking to. There is a white-hot poker of regret and grief, a lance to the brain.

You stand up. Slowly, dizzyingly, you begin to walk. ]

[The clawing desperation of the Slayer's desire to remain in control, to cling onto the one thing she has been allowed (forced) to keep, her body. Despite it all, it was her body.

But even that is weak. She feels her consciousness drifting to empty attics with unmade beds, she feels a pain in her stomach of the knife that was gifted back to her, the only kiss she ever received. She isn't alone. This is her mind and not, this is her body, but she is letting it be taken.

Distantly, the Slayer sees the shop, where Ruby and Ange hand out refreshments for those who aren't like her, who don't feed off of the nightmares that terrified her as a little girl, drinking their fill of their blood and bile in an orchestra of depraved hunger.

Distantly, the Slayer hears the voice of the one haunting her, the one that is taking it all away from her, one final act of violation. As if the voice and that which speaks it, or the guiding hand and the watchers that offered it, or the father and the trap he offered, as if they had not taken enough.

The Slayer can't even bring herself to be angry anymore. She was born to be used, after-all. It's only fair.

Words drift out into the grey mass of her mind, circling around the bubble that she finds herself in as eyes that aren't hers burn like reanimated stars in her skull, and she responds.

Let me sink.

And the eyes that aren't hers see a friend, bright and enthusiastic and robotic in her movements, with long orange hair. Part of her almost wants to reach for her. Part of her doesn't want to be seen like this.

These feelings, they richochet through her conciousness, from the host to her guest.]

[It's the room she'd stayed at during... April, was it? Time flies. And sometimes she stays here still, when she's in the area, when she's visiting Willow.

But now, it's a sickbed. She's got no idea how long she's been between nightmares - definitely prophetic in nature. Something about a king robbing graves and putting the skeleton of a little girl back together to torture it for information.

She wasn't really paying attention. (She's not a good Slayer.)

She sits up, ready to leave - except not really because she pulls her stitch and hisses in pain. And then her door opens, revealing a girl she wasn't looking forward to having to look in the eye.]

...Fuck.

[Is just about all that can escape Faith's chapped lips.]

Edited 2022-07-12 17:53 (UTC)

[ When she's on stage, Jessica is a whirlwind of cheerful wholesomeness, singing her heart out and hyping up the audience. Most other times she's a little more awkward, but bubbly and energetic, with an infectious smile and natural charm. And a couple months ago Faith had seen a different side of her, blushing and curious, hungry for the other girl's affections.

The Jessica that comes walking into the room where Faith is convalescing is hard to recognize as the same person. Her expression is so grim that it's hard to believe that jokes ever crossed that thin line of a mouth. Her eyes are grey and utterly blank, her slit pupils betraying her corruption as surely as the pallor of her skin. ]

Pretty stupid of them to move you here.

[ She walks up the bed, and kneels beside it, the room growing noticeably warmer as she approaches. That dead expression starts to distort into fury. ]

If you move or scream, I'll just make it worse. I'll make you pay for what you did to Sayo!

[In contrast, likely to what Jessica is expecting, Faith's response is a grimace. She deserves this, she knows she does.

Something is wrong with Jessica, and she knows she should stop her - not to protect herself, god no, it's a Slayer's duty to protect the innocent, even if they're going down the wrong path. Like what Buffy was for her. She could give a speech about accountability, about the real her, about guilt, about the Price of True Evil.

Instead she just sighs and flops back on the bed. She's not a Slayer, not a real one. She's a weapon. And if Jessica wants to vent her anger out on her, that's up to her.]

...Do whatever you want, kid.

[It's not like Faith is defenseless. Jessica's body is full of fragile bones and supple skin, privileged and sheltered. She can count the ways she could provide a quick death for this girl on both hands.

But she doesn't. Instead, she is looking at the girl before her through tired eyes that almost seem hungry for what comes next.]

[ Jessica was expecting mockery, snarling cruelty, perhaps hypocritical justifications for the brutal slaying of her beloved. As it is, Faith's apparent resignation does nothing to quell her grief-infused rage.

She seizes Faith's wrist in a death-grip, the fingers of her other hand tightly gripping her index finger. She starts to bend, back and back, waiting for the satisfaction of a sickening snap. ]

She didn't do anything to you! How could you do that to her!? I thought you were my friend!

[ Her fury is a righteous one, laced with the hypocritical regret of a girl that watched her friend suffer for years and did nothing to alleviate it, somebody who was surrounded with friends all walled off from her by barriers of status and responsibility and circumstance. ]

[That does cause a wince of pain as the bone dislocates and breaks. It'll heal within hours - minutes, probably, considering how corrupt she is at the moment, but it does hurt. She deserves it. Jessica's anger is righteous.

Her eyes, normally dark, flare a bright gold for just a moment, as the soul within her calls on her to punt this princess turned vengeful torturer through the roof. She ignores it, for now. She could make it easier for the girl before her, like how easy she made it for Buffy and Angel. She could sneer about how Sayo couldn't be that good of a lover if she's coming straight back here to her. She could laugh at Jessica saying they were friends when this is and always has been the real her. She could lay out a bunch of weak excuses about Ange and herself and projection and loyalty...

But Angel's words float through her head when she'd tormented him - tortured and attacked his friends, sold herself to his worst enemies and then made a game of smashing one of their heads open against a table before taking the job. I know what you want. And I'm not going to make it easy for you, Faith.]

That's just what I am.

[A succubus. Someone who worms their way into the trust and affection of others, and then uses that to make it hurt all the more when she devours their hearts and takes everything from them. Bitter and resentful and well and truly unlovable. Willow was her friend. Maybe something more. And Willow died earlier tonight.]

My knife's on the table if you want it. [She shouldn't encourage her self destruction. She does anyway. They might as well go down together.]

Edited 2022-07-13 17:27 (UTC)

[ Ah, there's the mockery, at least as it seems to Jessica. For this traitorous monster to just calmly bear her wrath, even to suggest ways to make it worse for her, just enrages Jessica further. That's probably the point, but right now, it's hard to think for the evil heat that boils in her head. Not least of all that rage is directed towards herself for being taken in by her, thinking she was just some cool (and terribly sexy) rebel. But is it really any surprise when she's so bad at reading people? She bends another finger back. Snap. ]

You're just making excuses! [ Snap. ] You chose to kill her!

[ Just like Jessica chose to use the magic of preserving the little pockets of comfort she had in her life in exchange for ignoring all the horrors hiding in the shadows of her home. Snap. A choice they'd already made before they were aware they'd made it. Snap.

She takes the knife off of the table, pulls it from its sheathe. She's holding it all wrong, and it fits strangely in her hand, but there's no hesitation. When she first heard Sayo's confession, she'd been horrified and disgusted to consider how it was possible that her kind, sensitive friend could commit such cruel actions.

That doesn't confuse her anymore. ]

[She reacts less and less as the fingers break, gnawing on her lip so hard it draws blood, green and vile and acidic. It's disgusting. It feeds her. It's pride that keeps her from reacting, pride and a little bit of spite. It's taking everything in her not to unleash on this girl. Blonde, angry, hurt, someone who used to look at her like she was something breathtaking and now...

Well, now she's seen Faith for the vicious monster that she is.]

...I did. [She breaths, shallow and broken. She lets out a hiss of pain as the last of her fingers break, the only big reaction she's had, after holding it in through all the others, she ] There's nothing... there's nothing in the world that I can do for you now.

["Even this, it won't make you feel better." That's what she's supposed to say. It's the truth, too. She felt no satisfaction after unloading onto Wesley, cutting him up, beating him bloody and bruised, tying him to a chair and leaving little burns to match the cuts and bruises.

But Faith deserves this. She knows she does. For Maul, for his brother, for Sayo, for Johnny, for Willow, for Gideon (who?), for Anna... So fuck the truth. She's earned this.]

What do you want from me? [It's a simple question, and she knows it's not going to stop her, because Jessica doesn't want anything from her. All she wants is to make it hurt.]

Edited 2022-07-16 19:23 (UTC)

[ She just finds herself getting angrier and angrier as Faith refuses to scream, on some level recognizing that the Slayer is just made of stronger stuff than her, that she's still a weak sheltered ingenue no matter how much she's changed on the outside. Even with her enemy seemingly at her mercy, she's still so helpless.

And it doesn't make it feel better, really. The rage isn't soothed, it scorches her soul black and blistering as surely as it snaps Faith's bones. The thought of Sayo's lifeless body lying in her and Himiko's home is no less monstrous and haunting to her. But at the same time, she wants this, as surely as she wanted anything in her life. Later, she'll try to tell herself that these feelings were entirely alien to her, but she'll fail.

This is who she is too. ]

You can bleed for me! [ She brings the knife down into Faith's gut and twists. The smell of that sickly-floral toxic blood fills the room, and she's not sure she'll ever get it out of her nostrils. ] And you can fucking die!

Edited 2022-07-17 05:27 (UTC)

[When she sees Jessica move, when she sees Jessica say those words, a smile breaks out on her face, wide and feverish. Of course, it hurts like hell, especially as she twists, and Faith hurls and coughs blood up, the words choking at the back of her throat.

Buffy's stab was gentler. She reached in further, with all the strength of an apex predator, but there was love behind it too. An acknowledgement that in doing this, they will be closer than they ever could be otherwise. It was the only kiss they ever shared.

From Jessica, it's cold and directionless. She's barely even looking at Faith - not really - it's all just about her. Her own self hatred inflicted on another person who took away the subject of her guilt. Of course, she hates her too, but it's not the same.

Jessica doesn't know Faith. Jessica will probably never know Faith. All she knows is her rage boiling her blood and driving her mad. And so Faith lets out a noise that's halfway between a wheeze for breath and a laugh. She can't breath enough to yell out even if she wanted to.

She realizes midway through that she can barely even feel the pain over the roaring in her ears and the adrenaline pumping through her blood. She can feel the suffocating weight though, the way that the knife presses on her organs. It's horrific and it's lifeless. It's everything she deserves.

She doesn't have much strength for movement. Or she wouldn't, if she were a regular person. But she's a Slayer. A monster. An apex predator, and her fangs are hungry for blood or punishment or whatever else.

She reaches up, puts a hand on Jessica's wrist and twists the knife some more as her teeth visibly sharpen into a mouth full of fangs. She lets out another wheeze of pain. It's a taunt, and they both know it.]

[ The sounds coming from a room are.. strange. Even if there's no screams of pain or anything along those lines, Ange still can't help but wonder what's going on inside of the room as she passes by the door. For a moment she wonders if she should just leave it alone, lest she walks in on something awkward, but then she can hear Jessica, right through the door.

It stops her in her tracks. Things are awkward between her and Jessica, sure, and it would keep her from meddling in most of the other's personal business. But this feels different. These words.. they're not ones Jessica is supposed to say. It's nothing Ange could imagine the other ever saying. And yet she's hearing them, clear as day.

It takes away all hesitation on interfering with whatever is going on. Ange quickly moves towards the door, twisting the knob, moving into the room, and seeing..

.. well. This disaster in the making.

Ange has no context for this. She doesn't know what happened to Sayo, let alone who or what caused it. All she knows is that she's witnessing Jessica outright stabbing Faith. And the latter doesn't exactly seem like she's struggling about it either, which is making it even more weird.

But despite not knowing what's going on, Ange does know one thing. She doesn't want to see that knife inside of Faith. And moreover - as Ange manages to slide her gaze from the knife to Jessica's face, she can see a look in the other's eyes that's so strange and foreign that it got to be either corruption or other Pthumerian influence.

(Maybe she has to protect both people present here from themselves, huh.)

Focusing her darkblood powers, Ange forces the knife to levitate. Out of Faith, out of both of their hands, and then flying across the room until Ange can grab the hilt. Holding onto a vileblood-dripping knife isn't exactly ideal, but on the other hand, Ange doesn't trust this situation enough to just drop it on the floor, instead opting to hold it away from her so she isn't getting the acidic blood all over herself. ]

What are you doing?!

[ The question isn't even directed at one person in particular here. It's just a confusing and upsetting situation, and for an initial moment Ange isn't sure how to deal with it, other than to at least take away the weapon.

Not that it's the smartest idea to just pull a weapon out of a stab wound like that, but look, there's only so much one can do in the middle of panic. ]

[ Jessica doesn't understand. Why does this monster want to be killed? She's the one who chose to hurt the one Jessica loves, and she clearly has no remorse over it, so why is she twisting the knife deeper? Why is she smiling, and why does it remind Jessica, just for a moment, of the confident grin she'd flashed when they—

Jessica doesn't even turn to look when the door opens, bent upon her grim task before all else, her eyes fixed on the awful face of her victim. That changes half a second later, though, when the knife floats out of her grasp, corrosive green blood blossoming out of the wound she made. She looks over her shoulder to see her cousin, daring to defend the monster that's a danger to all of them so long as she draws breath. Stupid, stubborn girl. What will she have to do to protect her? ]

Don't get in the way, Ange-chan! She murdered Sayo! This fucking monster killed my girlfriend!

[ The irony that said girlfriend is a murderer herself, who killed her and her family in countless worlds, is entirely lost on Jessica right now. There's only her rage to revenge herself on the one who hurt her loved one, the same fury that Ange had seen directed towards the culprit in the many game boards.

She stands up, rounding on Ange. There's far less venom in her eyes; more like frustration, like she truly can't understand why she's interfering. ]

[The smile is wiped off Faith's face the moment she sees Ange, replaced only with shame.

Ange will understand, more than Jessica will, why her reaction to a knife was hunger - almost lust. Okay, maybe Ange was never that fucking weird about it but Ange was never a slayer. It's painful but it's only what she deserves. The brunt of Jessica's rage is - again - something deserved.

It's an escape from the misery that is being her. An empty hope that at the end of the knife lies the way to be someone else.

She heaves as the knife is pulled out, pain in her voice. It's still not a scream. It's still not what Jessica wanted.]

She's... ah... corrupted... by somethin'.

[That's all she offers before she puts her hand over the wound in some naive attempt to cover bleeding.

Of course, they're both corrupted by something. The Good for Faith. The Evil for Jessica.]

Edited 2022-07-25 23:00 (UTC)

[ There's a faint pause on Ange's end, since there's even more to process all of a sudden, even more information being thrown her way. She's shoving the 'girlfriend' part far aside for now, because just the fact that Faith killed Sayo is already a lot to process by itself. When? How? Faith saying Jessica is corrupted by something at least makes sense, since Ange can see it on the other girl, can infer it from these drastic actions, but she's missing so much of the complete image that it's like she's only got half a puzzle in front of her to work with.

But she knows she has to work with it anyway. She can't allow this situation to just continue. ]

Faith wouldn't do that! She's not like that! [ After the quick pause's worth of processing is done, it's the first thing Ange fires back at Jessica. Maybe it's her having a little bit too much faith in Faith - pun unintended - but Ange can't help it. She's always like this. Undying loyalty to her friends, and she has definitely chosen to count Faith among those. Even if she did kill Sayo, there must have been some reason. There's been corruption flying around all month, and people getting all sorts of weird urges. There's a million reasons how Faith could have been involved with Sayo's murder that was beyond her control.

It's not the only thing Ange says though. She uses her empty hand to gesture in Faith's direction. ]

And you're not like that either, Jessica onee-chan!

[ Sure, Jessica was always full of fire, wanting to go after the culprit. Ange can imagine her punching said culprit, too. But stabbing Faith? Like this?

That's too cruel. It's not like the way Ange views her cousin at all. ]

There's something wrong with you, and I'll help you with that, okay? [ She's still careful to try and hold the knife out of Jessica's reach, even if she has to move her hand back or step backwards. ] But first you have to let me help Faith before she bleeds out-- because you're going to feel awful about this later if I don't.

[ And so will Ange. The fact she's worried already shows in the way she's much more openly emotional in this moment than she usually is, but her mind is absolutely freaking out at the idea that Faith could bleed out here if Ange can't handle quickly or capably enough in this moment. ]

You trust me, right? [ Despite everything that happened-- but Ange is shoving that aside for the moment. Her own past pettiness about everything with Sayo doesn't feel important in the face of this. ] Just listen to me this time. Please.

[ Jessica knows that something's different. It's not something she's given much thought to, but even in this warped state, she's obviously aware that she's started fights and run out of patience for all slights and injustices done to her and her loved ones. Most of the time she considers it a long overdue awakening of self-respect, but in brief moments she feels lost and overwhelmed. When she looks at Ange it's almost pleading, furious, but begging her to understand. ]

She just told me that she did! I don't care if she's corrupt, I— what if Sayo doesn't come back? We already lost Battler! [ Her only consolation in fear and grief is the black witch of hate. It whispers sweetly, telling her of the way that she can feel in control of her life, as though there's an order she can impose on the world. ] I can't let her get away with what she's done!

[ She swallows hard, half-laughing, half-sobbing at Ange's attempt to appeal to her better nature. A different kind of bitterness fills her than the murderous rage she directed at Faith, crueler in a different way. Does Ange really believe that? It's wrong. She's no different from her mother, or Sayo. She finally understands that. ]

Why wouldn’t I want to kill her, Ange-chan? It’s in our blood. Not even just the Ushiromiya blood. I'm my mother's daughter, right?

[She doesn't say anything, only grimaces and stares up at the ceiling.

What if she doesn't come back, indeed. If Sayo doesn't come back... well, maybe her friendship with Ange never repairs. There's no repairing this with Jessica, she's earned that hate, and maybe the smallest part of herself wants the bridge to stay broken for her own sake as well. But she doesn't care much about Sayo, really, even now. She's hardly her least deserving kill. It's Willow she's thinking about. Willow, who she had to kill. What if she's gone forever?

She wants to laugh at the idea that somehow killing her is making sure she gets what she deserves but killing Sayo was unprovoked murder. Like Sayo Yasuda didn't take away Jessica's own family as well (Faith supposes she must not care much for that family, she knows the feeling). But it's true, in a way. Killing Sayo was just about punishing herself, just like everyone else she killed.

She reaches the wound, feeling it stitch itself back together. Slayer powers meant this was always happening, but it's normally too slow to feel.]

That's not what our family is about!

[ Ange refuses to let it be. It's why it's the first thing she replies to here. It's instinct. After spending so much time hearing about her family's deaths over and over, hearing every single theory out there, witnessing as all of her family was constantly twisted into nothing but greedy murderers - Ange refuses.

Especially when she still believes in what she said a moment ago. Jessica isn't like that. The entire reason she's doing this right now is because something is inside of her, twisting her, making her think this stuff. Taking Jessica's own worst and most miserable thought, and turning them into a weapon against herself and everything around her. ]

.. do you really think this is going to make you feel better? Sayo's going to come back, you know. [ Ange doesn't believe she won't. She hasn't heard of anyone just not coming back after dying here. Yes, Battler is gone, but he just.. left.

A topic that feels like twisting a dagger into Ange's stomach instead, but she's ignoring it, shoving it aside. She can't let her own problems take precedence in a situation like this. ]

Everything is going to be fine, and then you'll be stuck with murder left on your hands. Is that what you want?

[ Ange can't imagine it.

If anything, she knows Jessica would feel awful the moment she returned to normal. Ange isn't just trying to prevent a death for one person's sake here. If Faith dies, then it's a two-edged blade. ]

So let me through. [ Especially since Ange doesn't know Faith's wound is already healing. It's why she's so hasty here. She has to get to the other before it's too late. ]

I'm doing this for your sake too, Jessica onee-chan! So just.. stop, and let me help you both before it's too late and there's no way back! I'm not going to let Faith die! [ A Faith who is still very silent, which Ange's worry is definitely taking as a sign of her being badly off here, rather than the other just opting to not talk. ]

[ Jessica tries to believe in her family. She's a loving person at her core, and the things she's learned about them, and the process of trying to understand them have created a belief in the importance of looking at others with understanding and compassion. She wouldn't have been able to accept Sayo, or her parents, without that strength.

But right now everything is distorted. Love and forgiveness isn't all that Jessica is. There's also a headstrong, privileged girl who's still coming to terms with the idea of truly bad things happening to her, and the selfish rage it brings. Right now she doesn't want to understand. She doesn't want to forgive.

She doesn't but—

"Is that what you want?" ]

As if that matters! Won't she just be back too, then!? Why does she matter more than the people I care about?

[ But her cry is weaker now, just a protest. Her shoulders, trembling with fury, begin to slacken. She just doesn't want to lose anybody else. Isn't Ange the same way? She has a glimpse of Faith on that night, her smile, her touch—

"I'm doing this for your sake too." Some part of her had been afraid that Ange despised her now, and if she did, maybe she was right to. Jessica welcomed the harbinger of that tragedy back into her life, and it's no surprise that Ange couldn't share that space. That's why a nerve is struck with her when, despite everything, it's Ange that comes to her rescue, the last survivor of her family, who she came back to after 12 years. Ange, without whom she would have been lost, who gave her a home, who comforted her in their shared grief—

For a moment that feels like a eternity, she stares into her cousin's face, pale and haunted. Then she slumps against the wall, sliding down. ]

...Whatever.

[ She buries her face in the crook of her arm, and sobs, because she doesn't know what else to do. ]

[Although it regenerates, the wound in Faith's stomach still bleeds out it's sickly blood, the kind that ruins the sheets and stains her shirt. She was injured, even before this. She was hurting, and heart-broken, and she was pleading desperately for it all to be over.

So when Jessica arrived, of course she saw it as a way out. It's always a way out. When people come at her for revenge, their wounded heart on their sleeve, she doesn't heal it, she just goads them further. Hurts them just a little bit more.

Tell me, how do I make it better? It's a silent plea, to Ange, to Buffy, to Angel.

So when Ange approaches, there's only two words she croaks out beneath the tears that she hadn't realized were falling.]

...I'm sorry...

[The wound is stitching together, but she's still bleeding out.]

[ Ange won't deny she has her own bias in this situation. She does mean that she's doing this for Jessica's sake too, that's definitely part of it, but there's also the fact that's highlighted by Jessica saying why does she matter more than the people I care about. And that's the fact that of course Ange cares more about Faith's life than Sayo's life in the first place. She doesn't know what happened, whether Faith really killed Sayo and why, but..

Ange can't really feel any hurt at the thought of Sayo dying, while she is very much concerned about Faith's state in this moment. But that's only natural, right? Of course Ange is going to care more about people who have been kind to her than those who have caused her hurt.

She shoves the thought aside though. Sayo doesn't matter in this moment. Ange doesn't even see her as part of this equation. She's just trying to help Jessica before the other makes a huge mistake she'll have to live with for the rest of her life, and she's trying to save Faith from dying. She's concerned about Jessica, now sitting there and crying, but that's something she can solve in a moment. If she doesn't solve Faith's situation right now, then--

Then she'll die. Ange can tell as she approaches the latter. Faith is starting to look so weak and pale, and Ange knows a dying person when she sees one. She grabs the other's hand, uncaring if there's some specks of vileblood on there that burn away at her own hand, and holds it tightly. ]

Idiot.. [ The word is mostly mumbled. ] Why did you let her do that to you when you know it's just going to hurt you both..?

[ It's not like Ange doesn't get it. She and Faith talked about it before, after all.. their respective suicidal ideation, and everything accompanying it. Ange knows it's got to have been in play here too, and that just makes it hurt even more. Because she knows this isn't right. Faith dying here isn't going to make anything better. It'll just make things worse.

As Ange squeezes the hand even harder, she starts to sound choked up. ]

I can't let you go..

[ And that desperation is what changes into magic. Without Ange realising it, or even consciously doing anything, her hand holding Faith's is starting to glow golden. The light seems to spread from Ange towards Faith herself, and the other will feel something changing - or, no, something closer to reverting, as golden butterflies start to fill up the room, enough so for even Jessica to see between her tears if she raises her face. Even though the wound stitched itself together, it's like it opens again, only then to fade completely. The blood everywhere disappears as it returns to its original place inside Faith's body.

A moment later Ange looks significantly more tired than a moment ago, but any physical traces of the stabbing ever having happened will be entirely gone on Faith by the time the light and the butterflies fade away. ]

[ It's unavoidable, isn't it? No matter how much people try to be good, it's inevitable that they'll focus their kindness on those they know, and will be reluctant to help or even be concerned for those that have hurt them. And Sayo has hurt Ange so very much.

Jessica's violent rage was about more than revenge. It was a scream of defiance against her own powerlessness, in the face of a world that alternated granting her and stripping her of her dignity. The embers of it remain, but at least for now it has weakened into exhausted despair at the fate that toys with her. She rests her head against her knees, not looking up at her cousin or the girl she almost killed. But she can feel the magic working, like a tingle against her skin, as Ange miraculously closes the wound she inflicted. Still she simply draws her knees up, not wanting to see either of them right now. ]

[It isn't easy to parse the time between death and rebirth. Back in February, she had no recollection of death at all, and coming ashore had seemed natural given the last memory she had previously was of swimming out into the Pthumerian sea in the place between this world and the dream.

This time had been a dramatically different experience, but at least Ange has her set right again, and it's a relief to be human and not a soul attached to an Omen, and not a squid, and not a wolf.

The horror of everything that came before still weighs heavily on her. She had promised Faith she'd do her best to keep them both from repeating past mistakes, and not only had she failed in that promise, she very nearly - very actively - pulled Faith down the same dark path right alongside her.

There's not enough sorries in the whole of the Waking World to even begin to make up for any of it. It's hard to even begin to process the amount of harm she's caused, but she is determined to try.

It's still not as hard as trying to figure out her feelings around Faith, and the kiss that came directly before her death. Faith understands her better than most, and even in the grip of Corruption, even after their inevitable split, even after they had crossed one line too many with each other, Willow had still hoped she would just come back. Even in the cottage, trying to fight to just keep going long enough for Luna to come to her aid, wanting nothing more than to bring down bloody vengeance on the heads of anyone who had ever done her wrong, she had found the mangy stray dog of an Omen particularly endearing and comforting.

She still loves Tara. In spite of their struggles, in spite of what feels like the insurmountable distance that's grown between them in the last eight months. She still loves her. She is also afraid. Afraid of losing control again, afraid of Tara getting hurt. Afraid of being the cause of that hurt again. She is afraid that, after everything, after all of the unforgiveable things she has done, that Tara does not love her in return.

She honestly can't blame her, and perhaps it's for the best, but she can't bring herself to look too closely at it just now. Perhaps it's a thought best set aside for another time.

Maybe Faith won't forgive her this time either. She wouldn't blame her either.

Willow approaches the door to Glitch's old bedroom, and she pushes the memory of the boy aside for the moment to knock softly. It hits her she's unsure what to say, and there's a brief pause before she manages to find her voice.]

Hey - um, it's me. I'm back. Can we talk?

[The day that Faith learned she was a Slayer, she thought it was the best thing to have ever happened to her. She knew, of course, rather quickly that she would die young. She knew that before she was called, the calling only meant she'd die for something and have her death matter.

It's this romantic idea of death and murder that caught her, trapped her in a way. Everything she's done, it's been a desperate attempt to matter to the world, and to the people she loves in it.

It's only on the rooftop with her hands gripped tightly around the dagger she drove deep into Willow's heart with the taste of her lips still clinging to her like the bitter aftertaste of cyanide.

She wasn't as afraid as she should have been that Willow wouldn't come back. Of course she would. She has faith in her (heh). But she's not sure if it would matter if Willow remembered or not. If it would be better or worse.

Sometimes she remembers Buffy telling her that they all wanted to forget her. Sometimes Faith wishes she had the luxury.

She looks up when the door cracks open, her breath leaving her, and her face a mix of too many emotions. Guilt, grief, pain, relief... and the impulse to wrap her arms around Willow and not let her go again.

Instead, she sits there, like an idiot.]

Hey, you. [God.] Uh. Yeah. If you wanna talk.

[She'd understand if Willow never wanted to talk to her again. Faith, in all her greedy self destructive narcissism, takes all the blame and blankets herself with it.]

[It's not an immediate rejection, and it comes as such a relief, some of the tension drains out of Willow's shoulders. Quietly, she steps into the room and crosses the floor to go sit with Faith.

She's genuinely unsure where to begin. How do you apologize to someone for influencing them into helping you with a murder spree? How do you thank them for doing what needed to be done to stop you from amassing even more of a body count of both friends and enemies?]

I, uh...

[She gives a small, forced laugh.]

I guess I should've practiced this first, huh? Especially in a place like this. Probably bound to happen sooner or later, right?

[Corruption has been a private fear for a long time. After everything that happened in Sunnydale, after nearly killing Ford in Deerington, after seeing how it influenced people in Trench. At least she stopped short of trying to destroy the world this time.

That fear was also why she defended Luna so vehemently against Johnny, and why she has been researching in the Archives, trying to find ways to keep it at bay. It was at least part of the reason why it managed to gain such a hold over her without her even recognizing what was happening.

She swallows against the hard lump threatening to form in her throat.]

Faith. I'm sorry. I know it doesn't even begin to make it okay, but it's still true. I'm really, really sorry - about everything. The whole revenge spree thing. Dragging you down with me, almost killing you. Actually killing Johnny, and Savage, and Sayo, and Maul. I never should've...

[Willow looks down at her hands, folded on her lap. She might not have struck the killing blows on Maul or Sayo, but she's still responsible for their deaths - far more so than Faith is. Faith who had stuck by her through everything until she couldn't any more. Even when she didn't deserve it.]

I never should've let it get that far.

[She hears it, hears the fear in Willow's voice, even now. Like Faith will just turn on her, reject her.

She feels her heart tighten in her chest, and as Willow lets out her agonized confessions, confessions that Faith has weighed on her own shoulders since the night the ship sunk into the ocean with Gideon, and Willow's sanity, all along for the ride... She reaches an arm around Willow's shoulders, and hugs her.]

I promised too. I'm not going to pretend like you've got nothing to be sorry for, you do. But you don't have to do it alone. We did it together, alright? We'll go down for it, metaphorically, together too.

[She feels her own eyes well up, her own throat heavy.]

I should have stopped you. Before you made a mistake. I promised I would. I was in my right mind enough to know that I should have, even at the time. And I...

[There's the kiss, one last act of cruelty and kindness and affection and tender loving execution as she reached up and pierced her heart. How do you apologize for that? How do you make up for that kind of betrayal?]

I'm sorry too. For a lot of things. [It'll have to do.]

[It's a relief. It's beyond a relief when Faith promises they'll get through it together. The tension drains out of Willow's shoulders as she melts into the hug, and after a beat, she wraps an arm around Faith in return.]

Yeah. Yeah, we'll get through it together.

[She takes a deep, shaky breath and wipes at her eyes, and shakes her head at the apology. Likewise, she's not going to say there's nothing to apologize for; there's no shortage of atonements they both need to make under the circumstances. She can, at least, offer one other reassurance.]

You did the right thing, at the end. I didn't give you another choice. I wouldn't have stopped on my own. I would've kept trying to hunt down everyone I thought I should take revenge on, and hurting - or killing - anyone who got in the way.

...Everyone keeps saying that, like... [She swallows a lump in her throat, looking down at her feet with an expression of... frustration? Like she can't get the words across. It's not an uncommon feeling for Faith, so often surrounded by people so much smarter and more well educated than her in all her simplicity.]

I don't think there was a right thing at that point. I had an opportunity earlier, to stop you, but instead...

[She sighs. She hates that it had to end that way. And even if she did the best she could, that didn't make it any easier to deal with Willow being gone.]

...I was worried you wouldn't come back. Or you'd... forget again.

[Willow gives a little nod of understanding. She's pretty sure she knows what Faith's thoughts are going. Just because something had to be done, doesn't necessarily make it easier, nor does it necessarily help alleviate the guilt that comes long with making those difficult choices.]

Just because other people say it, doesn't make it easier, huh?

[She takes a deep breath. It's a difficult conversation to have to have, but at least when she considers the damage she would have continued to inflict on Trench had no one stood against her, it makes the trauma of that final fight, and her death a little easier to bear.

Death is far too common of a condition in Trench, it seems, but at least it seems like there's rarely any lasting harm.]

You did try to stop me, though, remember? Johnny? I don't think it would've changed much if you had drawn the line sooner. It still would've gone the same in the end. I was too angry at too many people, and too into my own head to be talked down. If it wasn't you and Ozpin, it would've been someone else, but a whole lot of other people might have gotten hurt in the meantime.

[She manages a small smile at the concern that she might not come back, or that she would have forgotten Trench like she had in the past. It's a relief to be back whole, with all her memories intact, and feeling not much worse for wear under the circumstances, and Faith's concern is genuinely touching.]

I'll always come back. I promise, okay? Even if I come back needing help, I'll always come back.

[It's something. But on the other end, Sayo wouldn't have been in Willow's sights if it hadn't been for Faith. She could take away Willow's magic but not Faith's proficiency as a killing machine. But it's true. Faith couldn't have stopped her. She's not Buffy.

Faith sighs, but nods, accepting what Willow says.

It's not an absolution, but, she wouldn't accept it if it was.]

...Good. I don't - [She breathes a shaky, emotional breath, her hold on Willow tightening just a bit.] - I don't think I could do this without you.

[It means a lot - that Faith still needs her even after everything that's happened. It's easy to let her head drop to rest against the Slayer's shoulder.]

I know what you mean. I feel the same way about you. We'll help each other through this. It'll be okay.

[Faith leans into Willow's touch, hand tracing Willow's arm through her soft clothing. It's intimate, and close, and she doesn't want to let her go, because she's worried that if she does, things won't be okay. Not like they could be.]

...We really made a mess, huh. [She chuckles, it's humorless, and miserable, but it's soft. She'd do it again, she thinks, even despite it all, it was nice to have Willow to herself like that. It feels awful in retrospect, the guilt gnawing at her mind, but... even if she had to get tortured over it all over again, she liked some of it. Is this how it always feels? Is there anything in this world other than grief?

She doesn't even know where they stand anymore, but she knows they'll figure it out.]

Guess I should get to work on getting us matching reformed villain club shirts. If Angel ever shows up, we'll toss one his way too.

[Willow takes comfort in the gentle touches, the warmth of being tucked in against Faith's side. Everyone so far has been far kinder than she really thinks she deserves, and in a lot of ways, it's such a relief.]

Yeah. We did. I think... I don't know. I worry a lot of it's probably not stuff we can fix? Not really, anyway. But I think we need to try? And hey - [She manages a small smile] maybe the shirts will help, you know, really drive home the reformed part? And we'll be ready too. If Angel ever does show up.

Well. [Faith lets out a breathy laugh. It's barely a whisper, something only Willow can hear.] I'm sure fucking everything up in ways we can't just easily fix gets easier the second time.

I'll ask around - see if we can get them made. Maybe some coffee cups too. [She sighs.] ...Always kind of envied that he got the whole soulless excuse, y'know? Don't think it ever helped him feel better, but it made everyone else able to pretend that it wasn't all just him.

Still. I think we'll make it. [It's not a question, because as much as she's unsure about her place in this world - as much as she's doubting herself - she's seen the ugliness under Willow's skin. The visceral starved beast - so much like her own. And she knows that that monster is her, as much as the timid bookworm back at Sunnydale was. But she still looks at Willow and she doesn't see a bad person. She refuses to. So maybe there's still hope for the both of them.]

[It brings a soft chuckle from Willow on an exhale.]

Practice makes perfect, right?

[She thinks some of their friends might view it the same way as it had been with Angel. That under the influence of Corruption, they weren't themselves, not really, and that therefore their actions are more forgivable. She doesn't expect forgiveness from those they killed, though.]

Yeah. I think so, too. It's just, you know, gonna take some time. And maybe figuring out how to keep the corruption thing in check before it gets to that point again, but I mean, other people do it too, right? It's not like we're the first people this has ever happened to.

[In the days after the attack on the house, Willow spends most of her time resting at Ford's. Daily, however, she makes the trip to the boardwalk via the town's lamp system so she can comb the beach for Faith and Ozpin. She hasn't been able to bring herself to go back to the house to comb through the wreckage yet to see what can possibly be recovered.

It's not lost on her that she still needs to watch for Oscar too. It's been far too long after his death for there to be no sign of him anywhere, and of course she's beginning to worry.

She leans on the threaded cane for support as she carefully picks her way through the sand. The wound from Reaper's shotgun is still painful, and stubbornly refuses even begin to heal no matter what she tries. It's frustrating and worrying, but there seems to be little to be done for it.

She is not going to John for help, even if she's fairly certain he would find it an easy fix.

The way the waves break over the squid that's washed up on shore catches her eye, and as quickly as she can, she makes her way towards it. She bends down carefully, and holds out a hand.]

Hey. Come on, please be someone I know...

[Freshly banked on the ocean, in all the unpleasant chaos of it's waters, is a squid that is a murky dull red, with a black patch like tar onto a clean red marble floor. It's tentacles are shark, with fangs or spikes or talons on the end, and it somehow manages to shriek.

The squid flails, terrified. It is starting to remember, of course, remember the details of things that it would rather forget, because it is a coward who has never learned a response that is not running. The squid attempts to crawl away from the girl outstretching a hand, something too close to recognition flaring in it's unknowable heart.

It doesn't get far.

It isn't pleasant, the transformation of a squid into a girl, it's gory and thoroughly unpleasant. It's tentacles swell up and stick together, the head of the strange beast cracks open and a filthy mess of dark wet hair emerges as it shrinks.

Faith lies on the bank of the sand, completely naked, her body covered in patches of red and black, and limbs covered in weapons protruding from suckers that don't fit. She shakes as she struggles with remembering all the burdens of living in this world.

The Slayer has dug her way out of her grave, for the third time, it feels like, with memories echoing in her head that aren't hers. She looks up at Willow, and at the sky blanketed by rage, and she weeps tears of blood.]

[The squid flails, and Willow carefully withdraws her hand to try not to frighten it further. For a moment, she studies the poor creature, frowning. Is it one of the people she and Faith killed? They should be back by now, she thinks, but Mariana seems fickle at the best of times, and after everything that's happened, she supposes she should just hope it's not someone who will try to exact vengeance on her as soon as they go back to being a person again.]

Hey, no, it's okay. Don't be scared. I'm here to help. Or, try to, I guess?

[She looks away as the squid reforms into the Slayer. She remembers how this felt, and the sickening sounds of bone and tissue reforming into a more familiar form.

She looks back in time to see the squid's head split apart, and horror is overtaken with relief when she realizes it's Faith's dark hair that lies beneath.

Hoping against hope, she's come prepared to find one of their missing number - Ozpin, Faith, Oscar. Any one of them could return at any moment, and she can't help but feel responsible for the deaths of all three.

She pulls out the black robe stuffed in her bag and drapes it over Faith, before trying to pull her into a hug, protrusions from the remaining suckers and all.]

Faith! It's okay, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay.

[Faith recognizes the voice come to meet her, come to guide her into the vicious glow of the moon. She feels her sobs bubbling out of her chest, her grief at having been taken from the ocean thick. But there's several witches here on this shore, and they all need her to be there to help them. So she cries, burying her matted head into the bony shoulder of the witch before her.

The memories of her death are still shrouded in the recesses of her clouded mind, and as the girl with the red hair wraps her up in a hug, Faith clings onto her for dear life, crying her tears of sickly blood, like a vampire.

What's the difference between her and a vampire? It was a question that plagued her when she was alive - she's still alive, is she? - it's a question that plagued her when she was alive. What good is a soul if it only makes the wrong decisions. What good is a hero if they're as corrupted as the Slayer was, unwilling and unable to follow orders and directions. A Slayer was created to be a slave, she was called to be a slave.

But even as those doubts bubble to the surface of her feverish mind, and the weapons protruding from her skin start to shrink, she remembers something far more important.]

...Willow... [She holds on tight, like if she lets go, Willow will disappear all over again, and she'll be left in the dark to wilt.] Willow, I... I'm sorry...

It was so dark...

[Willow can smell the flowery scent of the vileblood from Faith's tears as they cling to each other. She has to blink back her own tears. She remembers her first death, and the confusion coming out of the ocean, becoming human again without having any memory of what happened. Her second encounter with death had, mercifully, granted a far gentler return, even with the deeper implications that she is still trying to ignore.

She never would have wished any of this on Faith.]

It's okay, it's okay, Faith. You're back now. I've got you.

[There's a soft shushing sound from her as the Slayer starts to try to apologize. There's no need for it; Willow is still grateful she was stopped from continuing her corruption rampage, and if anything, she's the one who ought to be sorry for everything that's happened in the aftermath.]

No, you've got nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing. You saved my life from Reaper. He would've killed me if you hadn't been there; I'm sure he would've. Do you remember that?

[Faith shudders, trying... trying to remember. Dying was so easy. She didn't have to think about anything, she didn't have to be herself. She was just a borderline mindless creature, drifting aimlessly. Her grip tightens, she feels something she doesn't want to feel, remembers things she doesn't want to remember.

But names are coming back. Buffy. Willow. Tara. Angel. Ange. Snow. People that are gone. People that were in the ocean with her. People she may never see again. The marks where Reaper shot her, the flesh doesn't heal when the skin of the squid has fully shed. He left a mark she won't be able to forget.

Her voice is choked and anguished.]

...I remember. It's... all so long ago. I feel like I've been swimming for... [She doesn't know. It's hard to count when you're a squid. It's hard and nobody understands. Months? Years? Eons? Does it matter in the end?]

I don't know. I remember.

[And it's with a haunted resignation that she remembers. It would be so much simpler to forget herself forever. She clings to Willow like a shackle or a parasyte, and she cries into her shoulder.]

...I missed you...

[It feels too familiar, except when Willow came back it was the man she just knew at the time as the Captain who helped her find her way back to herself, but he wasn't able to help jog her memory at all. It's a relief she found Faith before anyone else did, and that her memories are all intact.

It's hard not to cry right along with her, in both relief and sympathy.]

It's okay... Everything's okay now. The main thing is you're back.

[She gently runs her fingers through Faith's hair, both to try to offer comfort and undo some of the tangles.]

I missed you too. I'm glad you're back.

[Even dripping wet with salt and tears and blood, the blood of the ocean, the blood of Mariana, her captor and mother (and really aren't they the same thing in the end?), even as miserable and lost as she is, she can't help but smile.

Did it ever occur to you that maybe we forgot about you because we wanted to?

She buries her face in Willow's shirt and smiles and laughs against the fabric - it's been a long time since she's felt fabric hasn't it? A long time since she's felt this warm.]

You remembered me.

I'm glad. [Of course she did. Willow is her friend. Something more, maybe. And as she's getting accustomed to having a body again, as she's feeling the heat of Willow's body temperature against hers, as she's remembering how to be human, she blurts out...]

...I'm starvin'.

[Willow keeps her arms curled around Faith, and leans her head against hers.]

Of course I remembered you. I'm just glad you remember us.

[The possibility hadn't been lost on her that Faith might not come to shore with her memories intact. Willow's still not fully certain why she had lost hers back in February, but her assumption remains the same - it had something to do with Deerington. So far, it's holding.

She laughs as Faith suddenly declares she's starving.]

Yeah, I bet you are after... Everything. Okay. I've been staying with Ford. We can go back there, and get you something to eat.

[She leans against Willow, breathing in her scent like it's a reminder that she's alive. And it is a reminder. For the first time that she remembers, that's something she wants, actively. To be alive, to be here, with Willow and Tara and all her friends.]

Couldn't forget.

[She shuffles, prepared to move, but her balance is still shot and her footing shakes like it might crumble into dust. She turns to Willow, her brows stitched together in worry.]

Why Ford's...? What happened to the house? [She remembers heat and smoke and the bullets lodged into her body that still mark her skin even now. But surely it could have been salvaged, right? Surely... She remembers the broken remains of the school and is reminded that sometimes horrible things happen to good people too, not just deformed monstrosities like her.]

[Willow keeps an arm around Faith as they begin to move. She remembers this part well too - stumbling around on new legs, trying to remember how balance works on land when it hadn't even been a consideration in the ocean. It had left her feeling so terribly vulnerable.

She shifts, uncomfortable suddenly at the question of what happened to the house. She remembers still far too acutely the smell of the smoke, and the heat of the flames that all came so soon after her own restoration after her second death. She remembers being unsure and afraid of what a third would bring so soon afterwards.]

It, uh. The fire. It's gone.

[She takes a deep breath. The house had quickly become a home in Deerington after hers had been destroyed, and it had been a pleasant surprise to find it intact, if not needing a little extra attention and clean up when they had first arrived. It had come as a relief and a comfort as well, after her first death, to find herself back on familiar ground when nothing else in the city sparked even the most vague sense of recognition. She has been grieving not only for the loss of her friends, but for the comfort, safety, and familiarity of their home as well.]

So, Qrow, Ruby, and Ange are staying with Break, and I landed at Ford's, so I've been staying there.

SOMETIMES THE ONLY ROAD YOU TAKE IS THE DARKEST || July Catch-All

for penny (& gideon) - july 7th

cw: possession, hallucinations, loss of bodily control

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for jessica - july 8th, shortly after willow's death

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cw: bone-breaking, finger trauma.

cw for... intense masochism and mention of past suicide attempts and torture

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cw for suicidal ideation

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Aftermath

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On a Beach

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