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Entry 211

On the shore of Barton Lake, at the appointed place, Bronnie stood, hugging herself against the cold. She didn't feel the cold too keenly--that had to be, she figured, something to do with her draconic heritage, because her mother and uncle seemed the same way--but the wind was still brutal, and wings were hard to cover with a coat. Her coat was an odd sort of garment that let her wings slip through, but she kept fidgeting with them to keep them warm. Ing perched on her shoulder, his feathers ruffled. Ga'yagas paced nearby, sniffing the air.

The lake was frozen. The moonless sky above was clear and black and lit with stars.

Sheila had seen Bronnie leave. Since Sheila had confessed her crush on Bronnie, the wraith girl had been distant and awkward. Bronwen didn't much like that, but wasn't sure what to do about it. But Sheila, tonight, had looked at her strangely as she had left, as though suspicious. She had offered her company. Bronnie had declined.

"You were supposed to come alone," complained a familiar voice.

"You never said specifically," Bronnie pointed out.

"Shouldn't have to."

The Shadows melted out from the darker patches between the trees, eyes glowing softly as Bronwen knew her own eyes must be. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle; at the very least, she knew that here, in the dark, she was at her strongest. Of course, in all likelihood, so were the Shadows.

"Ing goes where I go. He's my familiar." Bronwen attempted to look fierce; Ing made a stifled cackling of amusement. "Ga'yagas is... my protection."

"Not fair not fair," Red complained.

The pard looked up at his mistress, whiskers twitching

"We don't have time for this," pleaded Purple. "He'll be here soon. Hide. Hide."

The four Shadows began a soft, hurried chorus of "Hide, hide, hide," as they moved to herd Bronnie and Ga'yagas to one side. Bronnie let them; the pard slunk along, suspicious but content to follow Bronwen's lead.

"What," she began.

"Watch."

At first, there was nothing. Bronnie stirred, but felt the silky cold touch of the Shadows upon her wings, urging her to be still. She waited.

There was, she saw presently, with her keen night sight, a figure trudging across the ice over Barton Lake, emerging from the nearby woods. The figure was dragging something behind it, something almost as large as itself draped over its back. Its motion was hunched, hurried, and it stared around itself furtively.

He--it was definitely a he, Bronnie could tell now--came to a certain spot, dropped his load, and began to work on breaking a hole in the ice, using some tool she could not see clearly. Whatever it was, it was long and sharp and straight, and it flashed in the dim light.

This task done, the man hoisted up his load. Words were spoken; the wind carried them to Bronwen's ears in faint snatches. None of it meant anything to her. The man's burden seemed to be moving, now, stirring, shivering. It was alive.

The tool, whatever it was, flashed as it came down. There was a muffled cry, a woman's voice, and a spreading blackness. The air seemed to crackle with magical energy; Bronnie dug her claws into a nearby tree branch, feeling suddenly as though, with such magic around her, she had to do something.

The man dumped the still body into the icy water, and hurried off the ice, still watching for anyone who might be a witness. For a moment, he was near enough, looking in the right direction, and Bronnie saw him, and recognized him.

She didn't dare speak.

"Did you see?" Red asked at last.

"David. It's David." It came out in a whisper. "What... what was he doing? He didn't really... he didn't really kill..." Her hands were shaking. She couldn't stop thinking I just saw a murder. Ing nipped gently at her ear in his comforting way.

Blue spoke, then, for the first time that night. It sounded miserable. "He... it's our fault, Shadoweaver. I possessed him so we could get you. I let him go. But I left something behind. Like a smell, sort of. And something else found him."

"What sort of something else?" She ran her hand down Ga'yagas's spine; the pard rubbed reassuringly against her, though she could feel that he, too, was shaking.

"I Saw," Purple said. "I Saw with my talent. It's a hunter. A hunter of... of... of life. Of light. Of death and darkness. It eats, it consumes. We don't know what it is. It's dangerous."

Red's voice sounded weak, uncertain. "I remember, from my time before us, reading of things like this. Something has the other one, and it seeks to destroy."

"It will kill through the other one until it can't. Then it will kill him and find a new host. It grows. It feeds that way. Did you feel the magic?"

"I... I did. It felt... it felt wrong. Evil."

"Evil is just what you call the other side," Purple disagreed. "This isn't evil. This is destruction. This is anti. Anti-everything. It is... it is..."

"Nothing," Red supplied.

Bronnie looked down at Ga'yagas. The pard purred, weakly. "Why do you want my help?"

"We don't know anyone else. We told you."

"We will come see you," Purple declared. "We will talk then. Please think."

The Shadows flitted off, vanishing quickly, leaving Bronnie wondering when exactly she had agreed to help.

She couldn't, though, justify saying no.

Bronwen shakily stood, and made it a few steps before she collapsed to her knees and vomited copiously into the snow. Ga'yagas pressed his warm body against hers until she stopped shaking, purring loudly. She clutched at him, while Ing made worried 'tock'ing noises.

Post 213

It wasn't until well into the afternoon that Bronnie managed to get out of bed; even then, Ing was unhappy about her decision. It was just as well that it was her day off.


She showered, slowly, the water ridiculously hot. Though most of her sluggish nausea had passed, she couldn't seem to warm up. Normally she didn't feel the cold much--her mother had always said it had to do with being a firebreather, and with wings and a tail wearing a lot of clothes was a chore anyway--but today she found herself digging into the back of her drawers for a warm sweater.

She tried to call her mother, and got no answer.

Bronnie went to her mother's house, taking a cab instead of flying as she normally would have. The cab driver looked askance at Ga'yagas, but unusual animals were common enough in Gaia. Ing huddled close on her shoulder.

It was warmer than it had been, surprisingly so. The roads were wet at best, sloppy and slushy in others. If the temperature dropped again, the roads would be icy and treacherous.

She let herself in; it seemed the natural thing to do. No one seemed to be around, so Bronnie made her way to the kitchen and made herself some hot chocolate. Ga'yagas sprawled under the kitchen table, watching her. Ing did not leave her shoulder.

She was searching through the cupboards in search of marshmallows, without much luck, when she heard the garage door open, and the familiar sound of her uncle Ray's motorcycle pull in. A minute or two later, Ray came in, removing a rather soggy jacket; as he turned to hang it up on the hook by the door, he spied Bronnie. His face split into a grin.

"Hey! Where've you been?" He crushed her in a damp hug, the relief evident in his voice.

"Nowhere, really," Bronnie said. "I... wasn't feeling well. And I was up late. So I spent the morning in bed."

"Your mum and I have been out looking for you. Don't tell her I was out on my bike in this weather, though. She'll have a fit."

Bronnie thought distantly that her mother was more than capable of figuring out why Ray's biking coat was wet and why there were tire tracks heading into the garage, but there seemed no point in saying so. "Are there any marshmallows?"

"Um. Top shelf in the cupboard below the plates. Here, are you making cocoa? I could use some. You sit down, I'll make it."

Bronwen was more than glad to take this offer. She sat; Ga'yagas laid his head on her foot.

"Why were you out looking for me?"

Ray shrugged. "Your mum had some notion that you were doing something dangerous. She wouldn't tell me what. Said it had something to do with your namequest."

"Sort of," Bronnie said.

"You know what your mum's like," Ray joked. "Leave her alone with her imagination and she starts panicking. You weren't answering your phone. She got worried."

"I did have Yagas."

"Yeah, well. I was worried too." Ray put down the two cups of hot chocolate, and the bag of marshmallows. Bronnie passed a marshmallow to Ga'yagas under the table, put one in her cup, and took a sip.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Ray asked, an eyebrow raised.

Bronnie looked at her uncle for a moment, trying to say something coherent and reassuring. "I--" That was as far as she got before she screwed up her face and burst into tears; Ing cackled a bit reassuringly, preening her hair around her horns.

For a moment, Ray stared, his mouth working uselessly. "B-Bronnie!" Unable to find any more words, he pulled his chair over and wrapped his arms around his niece; Ing croaked and stepped down from Bronnie's shoulder to the table.

Bronwen wept hard for some time; occassionally she tried to speak, but was unable to make any really intelligible sounds; Ray just held her, and waited.

Her sobs faded, slowly. She sniffed, wiped at her eyes; she felt strangely drained. It was a relief.

"What happened?" Ray asked, softly.

"I saw someone die," she whispered, and buried her face in her hands, dangerously close to tears again. "Killed. And I didn't... I couldn't... if I'd done anything, I would have..."

Ray was silent, his mouth slightly open.

"It was someone I met on my namequest, but... possessed by something. And it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for something that had happened while he was with me." Bronnie rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. She took a sip of hot chocolate, feeling suddenly sick again. "Ing says that the type of magic he used sort of makes a backlash that hits other magic users hard, some more than others. So I've been sick."

"I bet it's more than a little bit of shock," Ray said. "Bronnie, why don't you go lie down on the couch for a little bit? Your mum'll be home soon. We can talk then."

Bronwen nodded, numbly, and shuffled off to the living room, clutching her cocoa tightly. Ray found himself staring at Ing, who returned his gaze steadily. It was strange; he had seen that raven long before Bronnie had even been born, hovering around old Eldila the way it did around his niece now.

The raven croaked at him, tilted its head in precisely the way Eldila had done when giving a gentle lecture--something Ray knew too well for his liking--and plucked a marshmallow from the bag before following Bronnie into the next room.

If it had been Eldila, Ray would have known that look and what it meant: be careful. But the bird could not elaborate, even if Ray wasn't imagining the dead elder's gestures in his old familiar.

Ray sighed, and hoped his sister would get home soon.

Entry 215

Whatever else was going on in her life, the rent would still be due soon enough, and there were groceries to buy, and, well, Ing would never forgive her if the supply of chicken hearts and livers in the fridge ran low. Bronnie thought it was more than a bit disgusting, really, but the raven was quite miserable to live with when he couldn't find any decent roadkill to satisfy his desire for fresh meat.

So, though she really wanted nothing better than to curl up in bed and sleep off the lingering malaise for the next few days, with Ga'yagas and Ing both close, Bronwen pulled herself out of bed the next morning and dragged herself to work before the sun had finished rising.

The deli was busy that morning--the lunch special was a roast hippogriff sandwich, a strange and peppery sort of meat--and to make matters that much worse, Lorelei announced out of nowhere that she had an appointment that afternoon, she had completely forgotten, she couldn't possibly miss this since it was business and all, and the lunch rush was ending now so could Bronnie come up and watch the front while she was gone?

It did get quiet, at least. Bronwen was sorting through some change that had ended up in the wrong section in the till--there were always some really weird coins in there, too, usually from people who had only just recently come to Gaia--when Sheila emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands.

"Bronnie, you've been weird."

"What do you mean?" Bronwen closed the till, and looked at her friend curiously.

Sheila leaned against the door. "I haven't seen you in days. And I know you've been home, but you're not answering when I knock."

"You knocked?"

The wraith tilted her head. "You really are out of it, aren't you?"

"Well. I'm in... I'm in a bit of trouble."

Sheila stared at her. "What sort of trouble? I could lend you some money, if it'd help."

"No, that's not--"

The bell on the door jangled noisily, as Ing, perched somewhere outside as he often was while Bronnie was working, began to caw hoarsely; Sheila disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Let's see. I'll have the daily special, I guess, and a regular coffee to go. How are you doing?"

Bronwen froze, her hand hovering over the buttons on the till. "David?"

It was, indeed, David John, looking much as he had the last time she had seen him clearly, so long ago on her namequest, but somehow... sleeker. Not fat, exactly, but somehow better-fed, healthier, more vibrant. His black hair was longer than it had been, his broad brown face was split with a grin.

"None other. Look." David had the grace to look abashed. "I know I was sort of an a** last time I saw you. I'm a bit more used to Gaia, now."

"Not a problem." Bronnie was painfully aware of Ing, still being noisily alarmed outside. Her tail, of its own volition, was twitching violently, and she was glad he couldn't see that through the counter. She relaxed her wings, with an effort. "You're doing well?"

"Pretty well." The grin was back. It was, she realised slowly, a very different sort of grin than the David she had known was inclined to use, a cunning and predatory grin rather than the old, bashful smiles. He slid some money across the counter to her. "Look, I've got to be going now, but we should try to hook up, patch things up."

Bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea. There was a voice chanting furiously somewhere in the back of Bronwen's head. "Sure, not a bad idea," she heard herself say, and immediately wondered why. This thing was not David, it was something wearing his skin. Or maybe there was some of David left, and that was why he was trying to be friendly and it wasn't any sort of horrible trap and he hadn't seen her that night at the lake and why, oh why, had she said yes? She didn't want anything to do with David, either the old or new one.

"Great. How about I meet you at the park when you get off?"

Bronnie caught her tongue about to say "yes," again, but with an effort she choked it back. "Busy tonight," she said, thickly.

"Ah, well. Another time, then. See you." David took his change, and headed out the door. Bronwen found that she was gripping the wood counter so hard that her claws had left new dents in the already scarred surface.

"Who was that?" Sheila asked.

"Nobody. Someone I know. Used to know. Oh god."

"Bronnie." Sheila touched her on the arm, her hand icily cold, and damp from washing. "Is he the trouble you're in?"

"Sort of." Bronwen scratched her forehead. "I don't think I can really explain, Sheila. Not without involving you, too. And I don't want to do that." Lamely, she added, "It's nothing, really."

Sheila looked at her sadly, and seemed about to speak, when a voice came from the kitchen: "Hey! Sheila! You gonna give us a hand with these sticky buns?"

Sheila put a hand to her mouth. "Oh. Oh! Sorry, Adsam. Sorry! I forgot. I'm coming." Softer, she said, "Bronnie, if you're not going to tell me, at least be careful, because I don't believe for a moment that 'it's nothing, really.'"

She returned to the kitchen, clearly distressed, judging by the way she absently walked through the wall instead of the doorway.

Open RP:

The No-Name Club

Entry 217

I'm all right, Bronnie. Don't you worry about me. Sometimes I just... get a bit silly when I drink. You ought to know that by now. You have enough on your plate without worrying about me, too. I'm fine.

Her conversation with her mother still haunting her, Bronnie left her apartment and moved down the hall to her friend Sheila's. She knocked.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Bronwen called.

Sheila stuck her head through the door--literally--and grinned, her face ghastly and utterly reassuring to Bronnie at that moment. "Oh, you are going to be sociable, then." She disappeared back inside, unlocked the door, and let Bronnie inside.

Sheila's apartment was very dark, one of the suites in the building adapted for those occupants sensitive to sunlight. The windows were tightly shuttered, so that not a bit of the evening light shone through. The furniture was badly mismatched, but in the darkness it hardly mattered. There were a few candles here and there, presumably for the benefit of guests, but as Bronnie had always seen in the dark without any difficulty at all, today they were left unlit.

Ing lacked the perfect nightsight of either the wraithgirl or his dragon companion, and he let out a grouchy sound from Bronnie's shoulder.

"What's going on, then?" Sheila raised an eyebrow over an eye like a coal.

"The guy, from the other day." Bronnie grimaced. "Sheila, I..."

"Is he some sort of boyfriend, or what?"

"No. Not really." Bronnie sighed and sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, which turned out to be the arm of a chair. "Look, I met him once. He's from the same world my mother comes from. He's human."

Sheila's long and bony nose twitched. "Are you sure?"

"What?"

"Well, he didn't smell human."

"I... I didn't know you could do that." Sheila shrugged, and Bronwen pressed on. "Anyway, he's human. Just let me finish. While he was with me, I kind of... attracted the attention of this sort of demonic hive-mind entity. And they... it... whatever... possessed him. And then when they let him go, he ran off because he knew that I was partly demon and it scared him."

"Uh-huh." Sheila tilted her head.

"And now, because he was possessed then, he was vulnerable to being possessed again. And now he's possessed by something kind of dangerous. Evil. Kills people. I saw him do it. And I don't know but I think he might suspect I saw him."

Sheila sat down heavily on her coffee table. Fortunately, she weighed very little. "And now he's asking you on dates and pretending everything's fine?"

"Yeah."

There was a bit of silence. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to do something. This is my fault, and I'm... I'm going to do something. I have to. Especially since he knows how to find me, now." The glow of Bronnie's eyes brightened; she did not notice.

Sheila's thin and cadaverous hand wrapped itself around Bronnie's larger, clawed one. "Do you want help?"

"It's going to be dangerous," Bronnie said, worried. "I mean, this thing isn't just evil. It's... destruction and un-making and anti-everything. That's what they tell me. It'll kill us if we're caught."

"Bronnie," Sheila laughed strangely, "I'm undead."

"I don't think that's going to stop it," Bronwen said soberly.

"I'm coming, if I can help."

"Thank you," Bronnie said. She felt tears in her eyes. "I saw him again. I'm supposed to meet him tonight. I'm supposed to come alone. But if you and Ga'yagas--"

"That cat thing?"

"Yeah. If you and Yagas come along, even if you pretend you're not with me... then at least I'm not totally on my own if things go bad."

Sheila glanced towards her shuttered windows. "When the sun goes down?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm your girl."