07-03-2015, 07:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-08-2015, 01:08 PM by Grumblesnakes.)
Well. I hope you enjoyed your happy little interlude. It’s over now. Nerissa found you, and she is NOT happy. She’s on the verge of snapping and doing something crazy, and no one’s getting out of this intact. Toys will be broken. Lives will be shattered. So. Unleash the storm, and let’s watch her tear through everything her path. You can let this play out however you want. The only person you can’t bring in is Grumblesnakes. Make it hurt, my pretties. Do your absolute worst, and I’ll see you on the other side.
As usual, ask any questions you may have. I’ll be in cbox for a bit, or you can PM me or leave questions on the OOC board. I’ll be around a lot tomorrow too. You have until Monday night, post time plus three hours for your patience. That’s a little after eleven PM board time if you’re not signed in. Have at it, and good luck!
Nerissa’s eyes widen and Syl sees rage flashing within them. Fear strikes her cold. She doesn’t want to go back. She can’t go back.
“You … you … bitch!” Nerissa’s voice is shaking with anger, but it drops to a whisper on the last word. Poor Lena gasps, clearly shocked by the ‘b-word.’ It’s not something she would ever dream of saying. “That’s MINE. You STOLE it!”
Lena takes a tentative step backwards. She knows enough about Nerissa to be afraid. “I … I’m sorry. My, my mo- … I mean. I found it. It was in the garbage. I-I thought you wouldn’t … want it any more.” Lena’s eyes are starting to shine - tears threatening at the corners. She knows she’s messed up, and badly.
“GIVE IT BACK!” Nerissa marches over to Lena and wrenches Syl out of Lena’s now trembling hands. Syl feels her heart die a little as the slightly sticky hand closes over her. No, she can’t leave Lena. Lena needs her! And she needs Lena …
Nerissa reaches forward with her other hand as if to push Lena, then hesitates and pulls back, as if having thought better of it. A nasty smile splits her fleshy little face. “I’m going to tell Mummy.” Syl hears a sharp intake of breath from Lena. “No! Please Nerissa! No, don’t tell her! I’ll do anything!” Nerissa giggles. “I’m going to tell her and you can’t stop me.” With that, Nerissa twirls away, laughing and skipping towards the house. Syl hangs sadly in her hand. As they slip through the front door, Syl can just hear Lena burst into tears.
The minute they’re through the door, Nerissa’s demeanour changes. In seconds, the giggling and skipping turns into wild, dramatic sobs. “MUMMYYYYY!” Nerissa’s mother appears out of nowhere, scooping Nerissa up in her arms and holding her tight. “What is it princess? What’s wrong?!” Nerissa’s sobs grow even louder. “I … it’s Lena! She … she …” She dissolves into tears. Nerissa’s mother holds her even tighter. “You can tell me sweetie. What happened?” Nerissa pulls away and looks at her mother with wide, tear-reddened eyes. Hand shaking, she holds up Syl. “She stole Bubblegum.” Syl can feel anger starting to burn in her heart. Nerissa’s plotting something, something that will hurt Lena - the theatrics are making that much clear. “She, she took her. Because Bubblegum’s my favourite. And then …” She pauses, probably for dramatic effect. “She called me something. Something mean.” Nerissa’s mother kneels down and sets Nerissa down. “You can tell me Nerissa. You won’t be in trouble.” Nerissa stands up straight, as if trying to gather the courage. Syl wishes she could reach out and kick the little shit. “She called me a … a … b-word.” Her voice drops to a tiny whisper. “A bitch.” Syl rages against her frozen, plastic body.
Nerissa’s mother stands up and pats the girl on her head. “Thank you for telling me sweetie. Now, you head off to school. I will deal with this. And hand me Bubblegum please. I’ll look after her while you’re gone.” Nerissa whispers a pathetic sounding “ok,” then turns to go. As the girl slips Syl into her mother’s hand, Syl can see a tiny, wicked grin cross her face.
After Nerissa is gone, her mother heads straight up the stairs and into a room where Lena’s mother is working away quietly, carefully dusting some figurines on a mantlepiece. She looks up when Nerissa’s mother enters the room, and her face falls the moment she sees Syl in the woman’s hand. “Mrs Bergmann, we need to talk.” Lena’s mother nods her ascent, and moves to follow. Both woman walk downstairs and sit down at the spotless kitchen table. Nerissa’s mother places Syl on the table between them. “Lena stole this from Nerissa.” Mrs. Bergmann looks from Syl back to Nerissa’s mother. “No, it wasn’t like that! I-” She stops when Nerissa’s mother holds up a hand. “No excuses. This isn’t the first time, but it will be the last.” All of the colour suddenly drains from Mrs. Bergmann’s face. “But …” Nerissa’s mother waves her hand dismissively. “Enough. You have performed your duties admirably, but we can’t have your daughter sneaking into our house and stealing. We’re going to have to let you go.” Mrs. Bergmann’s gaze falls to the table, not looking at Syl. Syl can feel her anger start to boil. She doesn’t know what Nerissa’s mother means by ‘letting her go,’ but she can tell that it doesn’t mean anything good. Lena’s mother doesn’t deserve this! Lena didn’t steal anything! Syl tries to force her body to move, tries to open her mouth so that she can explain, but of course, she’s still frozen solid. “We’ll give you severance, and a good reference. But you need to get your daughter some help. She’s going wild.” Nerissa’s mother stands up with awful finality. “We’ll give you a week to find other arrangements. Then you and Lena need to be out of here.” And with that, she walks out of the kitchen. Mrs. Bergmann sits there for a few moments longer, slumped forward, tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes. Syl wishes more than anything that she could reach out to her, comfort her, tell her it’s not her fault. But she’s as frozen as ever. After a few minutes pass, the woman picks herself up, stands tall, and takes a deep breath. Then she too, leaves the room.
Hours pass by with Syl standing quietly on the table. With the humans gone, she can move once again, but she doesn’t see the point. There’s nothing she can do to help. And she’s stuck on the table no less. There’s no way for her to get off without hurting herself - her legs are barely holding together as it is (and they still ache, a reminder of the crushing weight of the car). So she remains there, silently, as people bustle by in the other rooms, until the end of the day when Nerissa finally returns. Syl can hear her when she comes crashing through the door, though she doesn’t enter the kitchen immediately - Syl can hear her speaking with her mother in the hall in a hushed voice. After a few moments, Nerissa comes skipping into the kitchen, with a massive grin on her face. When she spots Syl on the table, she snatches her up with a sweaty hand and giggles. “Serves her right!” She peers in at Syl with her pale blue eyes. “You’re going to help me Bubblegum! We’re going to teach her a lesson!” Syl knows that whatever’s coming next won’t be good. She resigns herself to her fate.
Giggling and swinging Syl painfully by her tail, Nerissa runs out the back door towards the housekeeper’s cottage. Lena is sitting on the front steps, her hands over her face. Syl’s heart aches for her - she wishes more than anything that she could reach out and comfort the girl. That they could once again snuggle up in her bed for sleep. But she knows it won’t happen now. It won’t happen ever again. Nerissa has her in her vile little hand and there’s no way she’s letting Syl go in one piece.
“Hah! Youuu have to leeeeave.” Nerissa sings at Lena and giggles, clearly pleased with herself. Lena looks up, her face blotchy and red and wet with tears. “Why did you do that? Why did you tell her?” Nerissa grins and sticks her face right up into Lena’s. “Serves you right for stealing Bubblegum! She’s mine!” Syl wish she could reach up a kick the little brat across the face. “But I didn’t steal her! You threw her away! She was in the garbage can, and Mum fixed her up and …” Nerissa suddenly pokes her in the stomach, hard. “Doesn’t matter! She’s not yours! She’s mine! And I’m going to teach you a lesson!” Lena is forced back, tears welling up in her eyes again. “But she fired my mom! She has to find a new job! We have to move!” Nerissa laughs. “I don’t care! It’s your fault anyway, not mine!” Nerissa suddenly twirls away, and runs to a shiny, silver barbecue that’s standing a few feet away. There’s a gas lighter on lying on top, which Nerissa snatches. Before either Syl or Lena realizes what she’s doing, she turns on the lighter, and sets Syl’s mane and tail on fire.
Syl’s world dissolves into pain. Lena screams. “No! What are you doing?!” She runs at Nerissa and tries to snatch Syl away. “VIOLET!” But Nerissa turns the lighter on Lena, burning her hand. “Ow!” Lena backs up fast, clutching her hand and crying. “Her name is Bubblegum. And she’s mine, not yours. I can do whatever I want with her.” Nerissa’s face looks smug, and Lena cries even harder. “Please, don’t! Stop it!” Nerissa’s face hardens and she glares at Lena. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
She turns off the lighter and lets both it and Syl drop to the ground, then runs off to a little shed close to the house. Within moments she’s back, holding a small pair of gardening shears. With a wicked grin, she takes the shears to Syl’s body. They snip cleanly through the now soft plastic, cutting Syl’s barrel in two. Lena doesn’t even try to approach this time. Nerissa takes the shears to Syl’s body again and again, cutting off chunks at a time - the parts of her body that Lena’s mother had so lovingly reattached are severed in mere moments. Syl wishes she could die.
But, even through her pain, Syl thinks of Lena. She can hear the girl sobbing and she wishes that there was something she could do to comfort her. Lena doesn't deserve any of this. It's Syl's fault. If she hadn't been transported here, none of this would have ever happened. Nerissa would have never found her, broken her and dumped her in the trash to be found by Lena's mother. Lena would have never loved her, but she would have been able to stay here. She would have never lost her home.
But what can Syl do? She's a chunk of plastic. Or, now, many chunks of plastic. She can't do anything. She's completely useless.
Nerissa continues snipping away until Syl's body is scattered across the manicured lawn. Syl has no idea how she's still conscious - she's utterly destroyed. By all rights she should be dead. She wishes she was dead - everything is pain.
When Nerissa is fully satisfied that she's made her point, she drops the shears to the ground. “There!” She smirks at Lena, who's standing a few feet away, still clutching her hand and crying. “I hope you learned your lesson!” Lena nods, but doesn't say anything and, satisfied, Nerissa marches back to the house. Slowly, ever so slowly, Lena walks up to the broken pieces of Syl's body. She begins crying in earnest, then sinks to her knees in amongst the plastic bits. “I ... I'm so sorry.” She chokes on her words, fighting against the tears. “It's all my fault. I s-shouldn't have taken you out of the house.” She stays there for a time, kneeling and crying. Then, finally, she starts to pick up all of Syl's pieces. “I-I'm sorry Violet. I d-don't think even Mum can fix you now.”
It takes Lena a long time to find all of Syl's pieces. But eventually she finds them all and gathers them up in her hands. Then, she walks to the back of the cottage where her mother has been keeping a tiny vegetable garden. There, right at the base of the house, she digs a little hole. She kisses Syl's nose (that is, the chunk of plastic that was Syl's nose) and places it gently in the hole, before placing all the rest of the pieces of Syl's body on top. “I love you Violet.” Then she covers Syl’s body with earth and, for Syl at least, everything goes black. Her body is still on fire, but at least it’s peaceful, in the damp, soft earth. Her pieces lie there, unmoving and Syl hopes for oblivion.
She doesn’t know it, but Lena returns a few moments later with a tiny cross fashioned out of a few twigs and some old hair ties. She places it in the earth above where she buried Syl and, after a few more silent tears, walks away.
 We are at war. There will be scars.
"Thief!" Nerissa's shrill voice is screaming, loud in his ears. He sees Lena cringe, seeming to shrink under the blond girl's hate-filled gaze. Nerissa looks back and forth between Erebor and Lena one more time, before shutting her eyes and screaming in pure rage. "THIEF!" Her hands are balled into fists, and she looks for all the world as though she's going to explode. Lena, too scared to find words, dissolves into tears.
She grabs Erebor in one hand (crushing his new, handmade wings) and Lena's hair in the other. Lena cries out in pain, but Nerissa doesn't care. She pulls Lena toward the door by her ponytail, smashing Erebor into the handle and pressing it open. In a moment they are out of Lena's house and moving up toward the manor. "N-no, N-n-n-erissa, it wa-wasn't like that, I p-p-romise!" Lena stutters out between sobs. "Of course it was. You wanted her, and you stole her because you are a THEIF." Nerissa practically shouts the last word. She doesn't look back at Lena, her angry eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Miss Nerissa, I – Lena! Petuni comes suddenly into view, her voice changing from flustered and relieved to horrified as she looks past Nerissa and sees her sister being dragged by her hair. Petunia clasps her hands over her mouth in a mix of shock and horror. She is frozen, entirely unsure of what to do. Lena locks eyes with her and silently mouths the word "no" – no, don't do anything, don't jeopardize our family. No, don't say anything, don't raise a fuss – I know you're not allowed to give orders to Nerissa. No, big sister, none of this is your fault.
Nerissa drags Lena on past Petunia, and the older girl is finally shocked into motion. "Miss Nerissa-" she begins, her voice admirably soft and deferential, but Nerissa cuts her off. "NO." her lips are white with fury. "Don't you DARE talk to me." and Petunia turns white as a sheet. There is nothing for her to do but follow them up, up, up the hill.
Up the hill to the door, which Nerissa slams open (again by smashing Erebor into the handle and turning it ungracefully). Up the wide entrance hallway to the grand staircase, yanking Lena fiercely at every opportunity. Up the broad marble steps, Lena crying quietly and pleading wordlessly as they go. Up the long landing to the master suite, where Nerissa throws open the door with a startling bang.
Clutched in Nerissa's tightly balled fist, Erebor can see the room spill out before them. It is the largest room he's seen so far, probably larger than the entire footprint of Lena's house. And it's filled with people, all of them dressed in a similar uniform to the black-and-white of Petunia. They cluster around a woman at the far end of the room like fireflies drawn to a flame. And this woman does look like something of a flame – tall and blonde, her figure impossibly thin and impossibly curvaceous, she's wearing a bright red gown that seems to glow against her tanned skin. She stands on a slightly raised dais, in front of a three way mirror, and when they enter she is clearly absorbed by picking over every flaw in the gown and her appearance – and the staff, paid to attend her, has no choice but to follow along.
"What the hell?" the woman says as she looks up into the mirror, using it to scan the room behind her. Erebor sees her face clearly for the first time, and the resemblance between her and Nerissa is uncanny. No doubt, this is the girl's mother. He can feel Nerissa's hand shake where she clutches him, trembling with the effort of not interrupting her mother Nerissa's mother looks at them in the mirror, and her face clouds over with anger. "I swear to god Petunia, if your mother weren't the best damn housekeeper in the five counties I'd have thrown you out on your useless ass years ago." She practically snarls, her pretty face contorted with rage. Petunia seems used to the abuse, clasping her hands in front of her and looking down at the floor, barely reacting to the strident voice and verbal abuse. Nerissa's mother rolls her eyes before turning to whisper something to one of the flock of assistants around her.
Erebor finds himself wondering if Nerissa's mother has even noticed Lena, still squirming and crying quietly as Nerissa holds her hair in a relentless grip. It could be that she's unaware – she doesn't seem very interested in them, other than to be annoyed that they're here – but considering how she'd just spoken to Petunia, it's also quite possible she has noticed and just doesn't care.
"Mother!" Nerissa finally can't stand to be silent any longer. The words erupt out of her, and she's still trembling. "She STOLE from me." Nerissa yanks on Lena's hair like a leash, forcing her into the room so she falls to her knees before the blonde girl. Her mother stops talking to the assistant, her gaze fixed on Nerissa in the mirror. Erebor wonders if she's ever going to actually turn around and look at them properly.
"What?!" Her voice is low, cold, and sharp like ice. As if on cue, she turns. The helpers have to move pieces of the dress she's wearing to avoid snagging it on the dais, but in just a few moments she's facing them completely. "Oh, Nerissa, my poor darling!" suddenly her face is kind, and her voice is sweet. But it's kindness and sweetness in a way that gives Erebor chills – nothing about it is authentic, and he feels as though she could snap back to the way she was at any moment. "You know you shouldn't speak until I ask you to," she says, with that same sickly-sweet tone, "But you know that mother can't tolerate stealing." her gaze is withering and cruel as she looks at Petunia and then Lena. The sickly smile returns when she looks back to Nerissa. "Come here precious darling, and tell mother what they stole." The woman holds out her hand, and Nerissa yanks Lena by the hair, still clutching Erebor so hard he can barely breathe.
When they get close enough to mother, Nerissa holds Erebor out in front of her, offering him to her mother to inspect. "She STOLE her. Lena took her, I know she did, I saw it." Nerissa lies, sounding as though she's on the verge of tears. "Mrs. Carlisle, if I may – " Petunia finally finds her voice, but Mrs. Carlisle's reaction is swift. "No, you absolutely may not." her tone is clipped and icy as before. "I've already got plenty of reasons to fire you. Don't make me add one to the list."
Mrs. Carlisle nods to one of the assistants, who reaches out and takes Erebor from Nerissa before holding him up closer to the woman's face. As soon as she sees him properly, Nerissa's mother recoils immediately as though she's been burned. "Oh my god, what the hell is that?" her voice is thick with judgment and disgust. "Nerissa, honey, mother and father would never buy you a toy that ugly." she nods at the assistant holding Erebor, and the woman turns him this way and that, allowing Mrs. Carlisle to inspect him from all sides. She can see every flaw, every scratch that was lovingly repaired with nail polish, the braided mane and tail replacements, the harness with the wings (now so thoroughly squished that they're bent out of shape and will never be formed quite properly again). "My god, this thing looks like it was chewed up by a dog, put through the wash cycle about a million times, and then decorated by a hyperactive retarded child during special needs programming at the local charity shelter." She wrinkles her nose up, clearly disgusted. She nods to her assistant, who passes Erebor back to Nerissa. It occurs to him that Mrs. Carlisle herself has hardly moved since they'd entered the room.
"Sweet darling, you must have this toy confused with something else. I am sure we didn't get you anything like this." she leans over to her assistant, speaking quietly. Perhaps Nerissa can't hear her, but Erebor's repaired ears sure can. "We didn't get her that piece of shit, right?" Her assistant shakes her head. "But, mom – " Mrs. Carlisle finally moves, her right hand flying up to chest height as she points to the ceiling, the universal human gesture to make someone be quiet. "You know this, Nerissa. I am mother, I am never mom." Her voice is clipped and sharp, but the tones are gentle and soft. The word "mom" seems to drip with scorn and disdain. "Now, what were you saying sweeting?" she says, smiling again, voice sickly sweet again. "I was saying mother, that I know I had a pony just like this. She was my best friend, my favorite toy…" My god, Erebor thinks, if I was her favorite toy I'd hate to see what a non-favorite toy looks like. "Aww, my poor darling. Don't worry, we'll make sure you have one. And of course, it'll be so much prettier than this piece of trash."
Still smiling at Nerissa, Mrs. Carlisle leans over to her assistant, again speaking quietly. "Find it for her. Make sure it's the best of the best. Get her a whole damn herd if she wants, I don't fucking care."
"But Mother I don't WANT a new one, I want THIS one." Mrs. Carlisle looks back to Nerissa, her smile fading a little bit, growing hollow. "Fine Nerissa. You can have this one and you can have a new one." As though a switch has been flipped Nerissa stops pouting. Mrs. Carlisle turns back to the mirror, looking back at Petunia a moment later with a look of pure annoyance. "Why are you still in my room?" she asks Petunia, but is clearly referring to the whole group of them. Petunia looks toward Nerissa, and Mrs. Carlisle follows her gaze. "Fucking useless." she mutters.
"Nerissa darling, why don't you celebrate your new friend by…going to play." she suggests, her voice clearly betraying her annoyance despite the treacly sweetness of her smile. "Actually, why don't you go play with Lena." Mrs. Carlisle smirks at Petunia via the mirror. "If she were actually a person, you'd owe her an apology, but I think in this case, this'll do just fine." She smiles at them through the mirror. "Now go play darling. If there's ever real stealing, make sure to tell mother immediately. But otherwise," her smile fades immediately and her voice gets darker. "Never disturb me right before an event. Ever." She is silent for a moment, but then the smile returns. "Run along now. You two will have such fun playing together!" The tone she uses makes it clear that she knows their playtime will be absolutely anything but fun – it's mocking, degrading, the tone that the cruelest use when they're toying with their victims.
Nerissa gives her mother a quick curtsy and, still dragging Lena by her hair, pulls her up and out of the room. After a few more choice words from Mrs. Carlisle (including "keep my daughter out of here for the rest of the evening or I will fucking fire you, you useless clod" and "I don't know where your failure of a sister got that pathetic toy, but you're fucking lucky it's so ugly it couldn't possibly be from us"), Petunia joins them out in the hall.
Nerissa finally lets go of Lena. The blond girl seems much calmer now, although it's not a proper calm. Her eyes have a fierce intensity, and she's grinning a madman's sick, twisted grin. Erebor is quite certain that she's calm like a serial killer with prey in its grasp. "I know," she begins, speaking directly to Lena, getting down in her face and asserting her control, "I know that you're a thief. And I'm sure mother is going to research it, and she'll find out that you're a thief too." she pauses, her smile growing wider and more crazed. "I'm going to make sure you get your whole family fired." She lets that sink in for a moment. "I really hate thieves."
"But first, we're going to have playtime. Because I'm a good girl, so I always do what my mother tells me." Erebor is tempted to wonder how many times she's had to repeat that in copybooks growing up – how many times she's had to write it on chalkboards, or repeat it while standing in corners. He's not sure what is worse: the thought that her actual mother had raised her, or the thought that she'd left the job entirely to governesses.
Regardless, he's starting to see a little bit of why Nerissa is the way she is.
"And if you don't play with me, if you try to run away, I'll tell my mother on you. And mother really doesn't like it when the help disobeys." She pauses for another moment, watching Lena as though daring her to say something. Lena may be many things, but able to stand up to a bully like Nerissa isn't one of them. Erebor can see that Lena is crumpling, falling more inside herself. He wishes desperately that there were something he could do, but he's frozen, stuck in place just as he's been ever since escaping the toybox.
"Good!" Nerissa says, in a tone that makes it clear that Lena had no choice in the matter at all. "Now first, we'll have to go up to my room, because I'm sure you don't have proper toys at all." She starts to head down the hall toward her room, but pauses quickly first. "Oh, didn't I mention? We're going to go play at your house." Her grin is maniacal, and Erebor can see the blood drain from Lena's face.
She leads the way back down the hall, over to the other side of the house where her own room is. Lena follows her, head down, tears flowing, and Petunia follows as well, her hand on her sister's shoulder when she feels that Nerissa isn't looking. Erebor, still clutched in Nerissa's hand, feels his heart breaking for the two of them. He wondered what would happen if they weren't terrified of getting their mother fired, of losing their entire livelihood – even their home. But as it stands, there's nothing they can do. Lena knows it, Petunia knows it, and worst of all, Nerissa knows it.
Marching into the room, Nerissa directs Petunia to pick a few favorites out of the toybox. Erebor recognizes them all: Prin, with her gunblade, Samaine with her broken wings and broken spirit, the Barbie twins, and even the enormous teddy. "Bring the tea set too. We'll need to have a proper tea party." Unable to argue for fear of her mother's job, Petunia can do nothing but add it to the pile. Once everything is loaded up, Nerissa dumps Erebor on top of the pile unceremoniously. Clearly, she had only cared about him when she didn't possess him. Now that he's hers once more, he's no longer her bestest and most favoritest.
The trip to the little cottage is uneventful. Erebor had dared to hope that their mother might be home, or someone else who could stop what is certainly going to be horrible, but all is quiet when they arrive; wherever Petunia and Lena's mother is, she isn't home yet.
"Okay Lena, where should we play?" Nerissa's voice is artificially bright and cheery, and Erebor feels certain that it's not cheer at the prospect of a typical, gentle Lena playtime. Lena doesn't answer, and Nerissa's smile fades. "I said, where should we play?" she almost growls the last part, reaching forward, grabbing a chunk of Lena's hair, and pulling hard. Lena whimpers in pain. Petunia makes a noise that might be a gasp, a sob, or both.
The blonde girl turns to Petunia as though she's forgotten the older girl was even there. "Oh, Petunia, you'll know this answer. Where should we play?" the girl looks directly at her babysitter, knowing that if Petunia refuses to answer, it's grounds for immediate dismissal. She knows it, and Petunia knows it – she knows she's trapped. "Try the cellar." she answers, talking to the ground. She knows Lena plays down there sometimes, but she knows her sister usually keeps her toys put away in the bedroom they all share. She hopes, she hopes.
Lena's eyes snap up and look at her sister. Mr. Fluffy is still down there – with all his rabbit friends. "NO!" she cries, her voice loud for her, but still soft in comparison to normal voices. "Please, anywhere but the cellar." Her voice is desperate, and Nerissa hears that desperation and decides that it needs to be disrespected. "You're right Lena, we should for sure go to the cellar." she claps her hands together and looks at Petunia. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!" she waves her hands toward Petunia, who picks up the pile of toys and tea stuff and carries it downstairs. Lena follows, reluctantly.
As soon as Nerissa hits the bottom step and sees Mr. Fluffy, she claps her hands in delight. "Is this your toy? He's very…ugly." she says, poking at his patchwork fur like the worst scientist examining an alien artifact. She suddenly grabs him by an ear, and Lena gasps as she sees the stitching she'd so delicately replaced start to strain. "Ew, it's so dirty down here." Nerissa comments offhand as she steps on the cotton balls strewn across the floor – Lena's rabbits from their earlier game. With no further thought, Nerissa squishes them into a corner with one swift sweep of her leg. By this time, Lena is openly crying again.
"So Lena, here's how I play. All of my toys are the subjects of Princess Stabby Shooty PrettyHat." she reaches into the pile of toys brought from her room and picks up Prin. "And anytime Prin gets a new subject, that means we need to have a tea party. And before every tea party, we need to have a turny-mint." she still mispronounces it, just as she had when Erebor had first heard her say the word. His heart grows cold. He knows what's coming next.
"The first round will be Miss Pony McBerry Greenington," she picks up Erebor, tossing Prin to the side, "and….whatever that thing is called." she points to Mr. Fluffy. "Pick him up so he can fight." Reluctantly, Lena tenderly grasps Mr. Fluffy. Without hesitation, Nerissa picks through the pile from her room, grabbing the nail clippers and quickly wrapping her hand around Erebor's face and head so that she can hold the clippers like an imaginary horn. It hurt him, but the ache from that is not nearly as severe as the ache he feels from knowing what's coming next. When Lena sees the clippers, all the color drains from her face. "What are you…" Nerissa scoffs. "It wouldn't be much of a turny-mint without weapons!"
And without another minute to move or think, Nerissa, holding both the nail clippers and Erebor, charges at Lena, holding Mr. Fluffy.
The nail clippers connect with the rabbit, catching a thread in his threadbare stomach. They slide across the surface, catching here and there, but finally finding purchase on one of the seams. With a snip, the clippers cut through the stitching just before Lena can yank him away.
"No, Mr. Fluffy!" Lena cries in her gentle voice, cradling her injured rabbit. He's not terribly the worse for wear; a single ripped stitch isn't going to destroy him. "Ugh, we're not done yet." Nerissa says, more annoyed than anything else. "Put him back down, right now. Or I'll go tell mother…and you know what that means." If Nerissa tells her mother, it means bad things for Lena's mother. She knows. She knows.
Erebor can see the reluctance in her eyes as she gives Mr. Fluffy a cuddle and sets him down again.
A few more rounds with the clippers and Mr. Fluffy is looking the worse for wear, but not irreparable. When Nerissa throws down the clippers and declares round one to be over, Lena looks obviously relieved. She immediately darts forward to pick up Mr. Fluffy, cradling him and crooning to him gently. Nerissa goes over to the pile from her room and digs through it, looking for something else. Lena, still holding Mr. Fluffy, walks over to Erebor and sits beside him for a moment.
"Oh Ellie, I'm so sorry." she says, her voice soft and breaking under the weight of tears. She cries gently, droplets falling silently onto Mr. Fluffy's plush form. "If I hadn't been so greedy and had you up on that table, none of this would have happened." she sniffles quietly, wiping her eyes. Then she looks at him and smiles, small and sad. "I just want you to know, Ellie, I don't blame you for anything, and I know Mr. Fluffy doesn't either. We know you don't want to." Nerissa stands up and moves to come back toward them, and Lena stands up too, offering Erebor a last sad smile before retreating to her "side" of the imaginary tournament area.
When Erebor looks at Nerissa, his heart sinks. He recognizes the object that she is holding. It's the hairpin-shaped object, the sharp one that she'd used when Prin had defeated him in his first (and, he'd thought, last) tournament. It had hurt him, sure, but on him it had barely dented whatever strange material had replaced the yielding flesh of his body. He'd suffered more pain than lasting damage; on a stuffed animal like Mr. Fluffy, the pin would pierce far more, and the damage would be far more extensive.
"Round two, Miss Pony McBerry Greenington versus the ugliest bunny in the world!" she announces, but before she's done the pin has replaced the clippers as Erebor's "horn" and Nerissa is already charging at Mr. Fluffy with the pin. Petunia sees the sharpness of the pin and grabs Lena, pulling her away – which leaves Mr. Fluffy all alone. Taking advantage of the situation, Nerissa (and by extension, Erebor) stabs Mr. Fluffy again and again with the pin, stabbing until fabric starts to fall apart, until stuffing comes loose, until there's no practical way to put him back together again.
Lena is a sobbing mess, huddled in Petunia's arms across the cellar. Nerissa stands up with a twisted smile, clearly not caring. " Miss Pony McBerry Greenington is the winner of round two!" she kicks at the remains of Mr. Fluffy with one slippered foot. "I wish I could say the enemy put up a good fight. But he didn't."
Petunia is gently rocking Lena, trying to comfort her. The poor girl simply can't take it – anytime Lena even starts to look up, she sees the pile of ruined scraps and stuffing that used to be Mr. Fluffy. Erebor wants to cry too, he wants to take it back – now he knows how Prin felt when she'd apologized to him before his first 'tournament'. He knows that he's not responsible, at least not in the traditional sense – but that doesn't stop him from breaking his heart over it.
She grabs Erebor by the barrel, crushing the wings again and cutting off his air. She points at Lena with the hand that's holding him. "This is your fault you know." she says, approaching until she stands over them. "You shouldn't have stolen from me." She pauses. "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE STOLEN FROM ME." she yells. Both Lena and Petunia look up. Lena's face is streaked with tears. Nerissa grins. "I'm going to get a new one. A nicer one. The best one. And you won't have any."
Nerissa moves with purpose toward something white and metallic over near a wall. It's one of those mobile space heaters, on wheels, capable of being plugged in, and easily hot enough to burn and melt when at max temperature. It gets quite cold down in the cellar, and Lena's mother uses that space heater to keep things from outright freezing in the craft area. "Nerissa, be careful, that's hot." Petunia warns, gently moving Lena aside so she can stand up. She may hate Nerissa with all her heart, but she's still thinking of her mother's job – and that job would be forfeit if Nerissa were to get hurt. "Oh, I know." Nerissa replies with a wicked grin. "And so does Miss Pony McBerry Greenington."
And with that, she sticks Erebor square between two of the heated slats of the heater.
It feels like he's on fire all over again, except this time it's even worse. He can feel (and smell) himself starting to melt. His delicate wings, already crumpled and broken, catch on fire. He can feel his sides starting to cave in, feel the heat biting into his flesh. But again, just like last time, he remains agonizingly, impossibly awake for it. This is the end, he thinks, and yet, he continues.
"NO!!!!!!!" Lena moves faster than Erebor has ever seen her move. She knocks into Nerissa, pushing the blonde girl down onto the ground. Nerissa shrieks like a banshee, but Lena ignores her. She makes a beeline for the radiator, where Erebor is now trapped. Lena is preparing to reach in, to try to grab him out, but she's pulled away suddenly by Nerissa. Broken by the death of bunny and the ongoing mutilation of her only other friend Ellie (Erebor), Lena finally snaps.
And Lena finally slaps Nerissa right across her face.
Nerissa falls to the floor, dramatically clutching her cheek. Lena and Petunia both are covering their mouths with their hands, shocked that Lena would ever do something like that. To be fair, Lena had never known she could – she'd never even suspected. But more than that, they both know what this means. Slapping Nerissa will no doubt result in dismissal for all of them. Lena begins to cry again, sinking down into a puddle on the floor. After a moment of shock, Nerissa bolts to her feet and up the stairs, screaming for her mother.
Petunia watches her go with sad eyes, knowing there's nothing to be done for it now. The rules are very clear, and much as Nerissa had deserved it, that slap spells doom for all of them. She sighs, and pulls Lena back into her lap, where the girl cries quietly for everything she's loved, everything she's lost, and all the guilt she feels.
No more than 30 minutes later, Petunia hears the door to the cottage creak open. Her mother comes into the cellar a moment later, her face sad. She immediately smells the burning plastic and sees the body of the pony they'd restored so lovingly wedged between two slats of the heater. Clearly her two girls had been so heartbroken they hadn't smelled a thing while that pony had melted and burned, ruined. She sighs – it's an apt metaphor.
She joins the girls on the floor, pulling her tiny family into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you both. And I'm sorry this happened." Her voice is soothing, gentle, and sweet. "We'll find a new place, another place, a nicer place." She tries to sound convincing, but in her heart she knows that there aren't nicer places, not for three women without a man. She knows she'll have to fight to get them any kind of decent lifestyle at all. It's nothing but hard times from here on out.
"Come on girls, we've got to get packing. They've given us a day to be out of here." She hugs them tightly. "So long as we've got each other, we'll be all right."
Nerissa sits on the hill up by the manor watching as they pack. She's holding her new toy, one that looks exactly like the old Miss Pony McBerry Greenington. This one had been custom-ordered from a toymaker in the city; it turns out, they don't really make ones that look like this. But Nerissa's mother had promised her, and mother never turns her back on a promise. She hopes it cost a fortune. The more expensive toys are always the more fun to play with.
Nerissa's mother does not come to see them off. Mrs. Carlisle has her assistant searching for new help, and is too busy preparing for her next gala to think about things like people she's just fired. She does not notice her daughter is not in the house. She doesn't notice that, with Petunia gone, Nerissa no longer has a guardian, and she does not think to hire one.
Petunia doesn't blame her sister. She fears for the family's future, but she is optimistic too. They've survived thus far, they'll continue surviving. She'd hated her position with the Carlisle family anyway; they'd only stayed because her mother had worked there for so long. She'd hated Nerissa, she'd hated how she had to stand by. Now, there's nothing she needs to hate – except herself, for not standing up for her sister sooner. She'll wrestle with that guilt all of her life. It will keep her up at night, and she will never make peace with it.
Petunia and Lena's mother is proud of her daughters. She worries for the future, she isn't sure how she can keep them safe, let alone keep a roof over their head and food in their bellies. But she is determined, and she refuses to let this setback ruin them. They'll find a way. It won't be easy, it won't be pretty, but they'll find a way.
Lena looks at Nerissa sitting on the hill, but she isn't angry with her. She had been, perhaps, when she'd slapped the blonde girl, but that had quickly flamed out. Nerissa doesn't deserve anger, because Nerissa already has too much of it. Instead, Lena pities her. She doesn't have love, and she'll never have love. When they're all packed, as they leave down the road for the last time, Lena turns around and waves, a small bag clutched in her free hand.
And Erebor? In the chaos after the slap, no one had noticed the smell of burning plastic. By the time the harried mother unplugs the heating unit, the damage is already done. Erebor has melted so thoroughly he is almost unrecognizable, and he's singed and charred in places from small fires on his wings, mane, and tail. His shoulders and haunches are touching, hanging down below the crossbar of the heater. The plastic that had once formed his barrel and separated the shoulders and haunches is melted and stretched by the weight, leaving him with an unnaturally thin bridge of plastic to serve as a barrel. His legs are warped and melted, unnaturally elongated by their own weight and the heat. His head is melted backward, shortening his neck unnaturally. He is grotesque, far worse than anything he'd ever been before the restoration.
Luckily, their mother is the one to find him. She sighs sadly and peels him off the heater. Even after all of that, Erebor is still alive – or, at least, still conscious. He exists in a world of pain, every nerve tingling, every inch of his skin and bones and blood boiling and alight. But this time, there is no relief. It's the garbage can all over again, but a thousand times worse.
"There, there now." the kindly housekeeper says. He feels himself scooped up again, by gentle hands. "I don't think there's any fixing you, not this time. Not either of you." He feels something with a rough surface next to him, but it seems squishy – like it has give, or bounce to it in some places, but not much. Mr. Fluffy, he thinks, dimly. He feels himself tumble suddenly, landing with a soft thump and an explosion of pain on something soft that irritates his burned skin. "I'll figure out something. Both of you. Don't you worry." He can almost hear the smile in her voice. "Don't you worry."
And there, with no one to hear but Erebor and a ruined bunny-king and his subjects, the housekeeper finally allows herself to cry.
Lena's mother gives her the bag right before they leave the house. "This is so you can always remember your friends." she says. "They're always with you, in your heart." the housekeeper explains, "And who knows, maybe we'll find someone to fix them up someday." Lena throws her arms around her mother, and together they walk outside and into the unknown. Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
“YOU TOOK MY PONY!” Nerissa screams, “AND YOU MADE IT UGLY!”
The kick doesn’t come; Nerissa puts her foot down and storms back to toward the house to scream at Lena. “I’m going to tell my dad and you’ll be in so much trouble!” Her anger seems to switch instantly to glee, and Ephrelle feels a growing horror in the pit of her stomach as Lena looks back at Ephrelle with fear in her eyes. Nerissa grabs Lena’s hand roughly and begins to drag her back up the hill to the big house.
As soon as they are out of sight, Ephrelle feels the life come back to her own limbs. “Wake up!” she shouts, moving as quickly as she can between the three remaining plastic dinosaurs on the lip of the sandbox, brushing her muzzle against whatever part of them she can reach. They wake quickly and look at her with frightened eyes. They know who Nerissa is, even if they had been shoved into a closet for most of her time with them. “Go!” Ephrelle yells again, frustrated with the way they do nothing more than blink. “Run! Get out of here before she comes back.” They remain still, and not until Ephrelle reaches out her newly gold nose and bites the Diplodicus firmly on the shoulder do they seem to get the message.
The Diplodicus, Triceratops, and some long-necked thing she has no name for all leap off the sandbox and into the grass beside it. “Follow the Hadrosaur!” She shouts down to them, gesturing to where the dinosaur that Nerissa had kicked is bolting towards the woods behind the yard. “You should be safe in the woods!’”
“Come with us!” shouts the Diplodicus, but Ephrelle shakes her head and leaps down into the sandbox. Nerissa had kicked sand over the majority of the Tyranosaur dig, but Ephrelle remembers where it is. She has to make sure that he gets out too. She cannot bear to leave anyone with Nerissa. Digging with her toed feet is much faster than it would have been with her hooves. As soon as she touches the dinosaurs side it comes to life, and her task is made much easier as the red lizard struggles to free itself. “Hurry,” it hisses through large plastic teeth, “She cut my leg off last time.” Ephrelle sees the damage for herself as the T-Rex escapes from the sand and runs, limping, for the edge of the sandbox. It struggles to jump over the lip, but with its missing leg cannot make the leap.
“Go on without me,” he says, but Ephrelle can’t. She knows she could make the jump, but instead she rushes to the T-Rex. “Step on me. I’ll boost you up.” The red Tyrannosaurus does as she says, and after what feels like an eon, finally scrambles over the lip of the sandbox and disappears into the grass on the other side. Ephrelle backs up and runs forward, preparing to leap over the edge. She tenses her muscles to jump and freezes.
Nerissa has returned.
She’s not alone this time; she is forcefully pulling along a man by the hand. He shares her blue eyes and blond hair, and there is enough resemblance in their faces for Ephrelle to recognize him as Nerissa’s father. “See Daddy, right here. I told you. Lena stole all my dinosaurs and was burying them in the sand.” Nerissa marches over to the sandbox with her father in tow, pointing at Ephrelle. “Where are the dinosaurs, Sweetie?” asks her father, looking around the sandbox for any evidence of the toys that Lena might have stolen and seeing nothing. Silently, Ephrelle thanks whatever gods exist in the human world that the dinosaurs had been able to escape.
“They were right here!” She shouts, kicking through the sand in an attempt to unearth the missing toys, “I swear Daddy. They were. She must have hidden them!” Nerissa’s father pats his daughter gently on the shoulder, but his worried face has shifted to irritation that even Ephrelle can read. “Sweetheart, remember what Mommy and I said about lying? It’s not something that good girls do.” Nerissa whines something petulantly that Ephrelle can’t hear, but her father replies with: “No, honey. I won’t ground Lena for stealing your toys. They aren’t even here. They’re in the garbage, where the housekeep put them months ago.”
Lena marches over to where Ephrelle is frozen at the edge of the sandbox and picks her up. “This one is mine! See! I got her for my birthday! And Lena stole her and cut off her pretty tail and put ugly dinosaur legs on her!” She hands Ephrelle to her father, who turns the little Equisaur over in his large hands. “Mommy and I didn’t get you this for your birthday, Sweetums. Are you sure this is yours?” Nerissa nods, grabs Ephrelle back from her father and holds her only by her repaired tail. “Yes! I am sure. I’m not lying.”
Nodding, her father turns to Lena and asks if the toy horse was Nerissa. Lena nods, and Ephrelle can see the tears dripping down her face. “You shouldn’t take things that aren’t yours, Lena. I’ll have to speak to your mother about this. ” Nerissa laughs gleefully, and as her father and Lean go off to find Lena’s mother, Nerissa runs back up the hill to her own home.
“Mrs. Schewppe might have made you pretty again, but I’ll make you so ugly that even stupid Lena won’t want you.” She says, holding up Ephrelle and grinning maniacally. “Just you wait. I got a doctor’s kit for my birthday too and now I can use it.” Ephrelle swings helplessly by her tail as Lean climbs the stairs to her bedroom. Ephrelle is laid on a large white towel, and Lean runs to the toybox and pulls out a blue case with a large red cross on it. She takes each tool from the kit carefully. Some of the things she pulls out are not toys, even Ephrelle knows that. There are two knives, one a steak knife with serrated edges and the other a paring knife. There’s also a real hammer, a large screw driver, and several permanent markers.
Ephrelle is turned this way and that as Nerissa’s hmms above her, and then finally the operation begins.
First to go are her new legs and tail, pulled off by Nerissa without much effort. They are followed by her new golden stegosaurus plates, and then by her repaired mane. Pulling the cap off a red marker, Nerissa dots all over Ephrelle’s body. “Gunshots,” she says gleefully, “Someone shot you up and now I have to put you out of your misery.” Once Ephrelle is entirely covered with red dots, Nerissa draws black swirls across her body for no reason that she feels necessary to voice aloud. Nerissa then grabs the screwdriver and the hammer, and takes turns slamming them down into Ephrelle. The filly thinks that perhaps she’s done, but Nerissa only flips her body over and begins to assault on the fresh side.
“We have to clean the wounds now, but I don’t have any soap. Let’s go downstairs.” Holding Ephrelle by her hairless head, Nerissa runs down the stairs and into the kitchen. The industrial dishwasher has just started, and Nerissa pulls it open just wide enough to throw Ephrelle in, and Ephrelle can barely read the sign saying ‘Extreme heat, no plastics’ as she sails by in Nerissa’s hand. The door shuts and Ephrelle is alone in the darkness.
The water starts up again quickly, boiling hot on her soft plastic body. Soon her neck has softened enough to melt around the handle of the measuring cup she’s propped up against, and for the rest of the wash cycle she stares down into the soapy darkness. What feels like hours later, Nerissa pulls her softly purple (and black and red) body from the dishwasher before any adults can find her.
“Your neck has been damaged,” Nerissa whispers as they climb the stairs again. “I need to do surgery to be sure that your esophagus is intact.” The paring knife slices into Ephrelle’s still-warm plastic flesh, severing her head entirely from her body. “Whoopsie daisy.” Nerissa giggles.
Next to go is her “Irreparable” broken hind legs. Ephrelle is a warped head, a body, and two purple legs. “Hmmm. What next? Oh I know!” Ephrelle is resigned, and the two of them bolt down the stairs and end up in the kitchen once more. This time Nerissa is heading towards the microwave, where she delicately places Ephrelle on the glass plate and covers her four pieces with a paper towel. The door closes and the light of the microwaves turns on, and Ephrelle can hear the muted sounds of buttons being pressed on the microwave.
The heat and light start up, and the last thing that Ephrelle sees is the backlight red floral designs on the paper towel. She imagines that it is her Amazon tattoo saying goodbye to her for the last time, and thinks of the dinosaurs that are beginning a new life in the woods. At least they made it, she thinks as her vision fades to black and she becomes four pools of purple melted plastic on the glass of the microwave. At least she was able to do that.
She cannot feel Lena’s mother scrape her off the glass plate and into a Ziploc bag. She doesn’t feel Lena piling dirt atop the bag in the shallow grave that she has dug for Ephrelle beside the sandbox. She doesn’t see the red flower lovingly cut out of a paper towel that Lena glues to a popsicle stick and places in the ground atop Ephrelle’s grave. She’d be glad if she did, knowing that even though she is gone, that at least she is remembered.
if the heavens ever did speak
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
He has three lives, three selves, encompassed in one strange body.
There is Sleaze, child of ill magic, the zealot who once knelt in the moss while his father walked away. The boy who sent up mangled prayers to a god or gods, who laid prostate on the earth, desperate for something to believe in. The boy who did not say a word when his father laid his head across his back, letting out a sigh Sleaze could never quite decipher. The boy who was chosen with no rhyme or reason for this quest, to be transformed from horse to toy, flesh to plastic.
There is Velvet, who grew out of a toybox massacre. Velvet, whose belly was the canvas for a girl to carve her name, Velvet, who drowned, who was scarred, whose body was bent and made strange. Who thought, for the first time one lonely night as the girl slept and a strange clown crept, she loves us. Velvet, who was left decapitated in the trash, a coffin of papers all around him.
There is Cloud, who was reborn on a craft table, made whole again, repainted with clouds to cover his scars. Cloud, who never hesitated to think she loves us as the gentle girl fed him medicines and tended to a play stable, who built him a pasture of moss under an oak.
These selves all exist within one strange body, they live and die and live again, his brain churns with names, with thoughts, with queer memories and he wonders if they were all real, or if he has gone mad.
We all float here, he thinks, and he wonders if he’ll end up as mad as Pennywise, if he is destined for a Glasgow smile and bright balloons.
”That’s mine,” Nerissa says, again, stepping closer. There is a glassiness in her ice-blue eyes, the same glassiness he remembers as she wrapped her hands around his neck and twisted.
(the memories come back, flood back, he is Cloud and he is Velvet and he is someone else, a name on the tip of his tongue he can’t quite grasp, a vague shadow of a father, and he knows something is coming, the denouement, the end times)
Her shadow falls over them both, Cloud and Lena, and a piecemeal prayer springs unbidden to his mind: yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
“You threw him away,” says Lena. Her voice is calm, with a flatness to it that Cloud is not used to, the stillness that reminds him what it’s like before a storm, “you threw him away, and now he’s mine.”
“He’s mine,” repeats Nerissa, and Cloud is stuck there motionless in her shadow, thinking about the glassiness of her eyes. At her side, her fingers curl into her palm, and he can see the knuckles turn white. The circles under her eyes are deeper now. It’s clear she hasn’t been sleeping.
“Mine,” Nerissa says, voice quivering like she might cry, “Lena, Velvet is mine.”
“His name isn’t Velvet,” says Lena, almost idly, but she picks him up and holds him tighter than she ever has before, “see? We painted clouds on him, because you hurt him. I made him better. He loves me, and wants to live with me.”
“He’s my…” here Nerissa pauses, contemplates, then continues, “he’s my fucking toy.”
It’s her first time cursing, and the word tastes strange and sour in her mouth, like the wine mother drinks when she thinks no one’s looking, even as her belly curves out with the brother to be.
If Lena is shocked by the language she doesn’t show it, instead she curls her fingers tighter, and slowly stands up.
Nerissa’s clenched fist is shaking and her eyes are still glassy, like she is not entirely there. Lena whirls and runs into the empty house, her mother busy cleaning up inside Nerissa’s home. She runs to her room, the island of misfit toys, her small sanctuary.
Nerissa follows.
(She wouldn’t do this, normally. She’d never liked Lena, but had tolerated her well enough. Sometimes she saw glimpses of old toys in the backyard, ones she’d sworn she’d thrown away. But it hadn’t mattered; father was always coming home with something new and bright, dolls you could feed, Breyers painted outrageous colors, stuffed animals as big as she was.
But she’s tired. It feels like every dream features the clown, who smiles bigger and bigger. The clown says he’ll leave her alone, if:
If she cuts Cinderella open.
If she tears Velvet’s head off.
If she hurts Lena, makes her pay.
She wants to sleep.
One day she’d even been ready to tell mom, to face her punishment – tell her she’d been a Bad Girl and gone into dad’s study, taken the clown from off the shelf – but when she’d gone to speak to mother that morning her gaze had already been distant and unfocused, breath spoiled with alcohol, and Nerissa knows she wouldn’t listen anyway.
She’d tell father, but he goes to work early and comes home late, later than usual. Sometimes when she’s lying awake in bed she hears him yelling.
She can hear the clown's voice louder now. She’s beginning to think she’ll do anything to make it go away. Or just to make him be quiet. Just for a little while.
She’s so tired.)
Nerissa follows Lena into her room, stops and takes in the scene. Her broken toys, all here, all looming down at her, made whole in this backyard cottage.
You hurt them, sighs the clown, in the back of her mind, you hurt them, and now they hate you.
Toys don’t feel, she would have thought back, had she been sleeping, had she not endured weeks of waking to the clown sitting perched on her nightstand. So instead the words hit home, and her eyes brim with tears.
She grabs the first toy she sees (a Barbie whose locks had been shorn and head popped off, now made whole and stylish by Lena’s tender hands). She tears it apart, limb from limb.
She grabs Cinderella, tears at the stitching, rips her open again. She grabs a marker from off the desk and draws angry scribbles across the ripped body of the doll. She tears and stomps and breaks, rips the posters to pieces (the posters were never hers but it doesn’t matter, she wants to hurt).
She feels a hand on her, Lena’s voice saying something, and she whirls and slaps the girl across the face. Her palm stings. Lena’s face reddens and for a moment she says nothing, only stares, aghast.
She slaps her again, palm still stinging, then pushes her, putting all her strength into it. Lena, unsuspecting, falls and lets go of the cloud-painted horse. Nerissa kicks her, hard in the ribs, and Lena lets out a mewling sound that pierces through the fog that has surrounded her thoughts.
She grabs the plastic horse - Velvet - and runs back to her house, leaving Lena in the wake of her destruction.
Cloud is aware of the destruction, hears the toys’ cries as Nerissa breaks them anew. Her feels her hands clasp around him and he looks wildly at Lena for a moment, but she has forgotten about him, curled up on the floor crying, which is how they leave her.
He does not get to say goodbye.
Nerissa’s heart gallops in her chest. She’s never hurt a person before.
She’s crying, soundless tears rolling down her plump cheeks. She looks down at the horse in her hand.
“I’ll clean you up,” she says softly, as if he could atone for what she’d done.
She takes him into the bathroom, stops up the sink. She opens the cabinets underneath and pulls out the gallon tub of bleach, fills the sink up. She dunks him in, scrubs him. Paint flecks off. The clouds, yes, but also the base coat. She scrubs, hands turning red, chapped. She knows Lena will tell soon, that she’ll be in Big Trouble.
It’s his fault, whispers Pennywise. He is still there. He is always there.
There is a way, the clown says. He tells her what to do.
The bleach burns. He feels his skin peeling away. His eyes are melted from the chemicals. He is blind. He can hear Nerissa crying. The pain is sharp and real, for he is no one’s again. No one loves him.
I am Sleaze, he thinks, reclaiming the name as he partakes in his chemical baptism, but the name is a sorry consolation prize for the loss of Lena, of the surety he felt as he chanted along with the toys: she loves us, she loves us, she loves us.
He is lifted from the bleach, the air cold and strange on his stripped skin. He feels terrycloth as she dries him. They walk into a musty smelling room, and Nerissa grabs a can, clunking and heavy. He hears something sloshing.
Then they are walking back outside, he can smell it, feel the sun. for a wild moment he hopes she is, beyond all reason, returning him to Lena.
Nerissa sets him down for a moment and he hears her lift the can again, hears the sound of liquid splashing out. There is a new stench in the air, one he cannot identify, but seems to coat his senses.
There is a scraping noise, a smell like sulfur. Then, a blast of heat, baking across his face as Nerissa sets fire to the housekeeper’s cabin.
They are not done yet.
Nerissa turns, grabs him, grabs the gas can. She walks quickly back to her room. They are running out of time.
Pennywise will be quiet, after this.
She runs up to her room. The clown is in the toybox, buried there under the plastic animals and other toys. She opens the lid. The clown is on the top, like he had clawed his way back up. She doesn’t think, empties the whole can in the box. She strikes another match.
The same smells, the same scraping noise. More heat. This heat is closer, and suddenly Sleaze’s hair is aflame. The purple and black tresses catch fire easily enough, and he is airborne, tossed back into the box, where it all began.
He lands next to the clown. He can hear the wet noisy breaths of it.
Hello-- Pennywise begins, but then he is screaming, as the fire touches the gas-soaked toys and sets them ablaze.
------------------yea, though I walk through the valley
Sleaze’s flesh melts and twists, the heat unbearable. He begins to pray.
He melts and merges with the other toys as the inferno continues, spreads to the rest of the pink and gold room as the air shrieks with smoke alarms and sirens and, distantly, the distraught cries of a woman with god’s hands who once made him whole. His flesh bubbles, boils. His face collapses in.
He is not Cloud.
He is not Velvet.
He is not even Sleaze.
He is gone, a mess of plastic.
------------------ of the shadow of death
(The fires burn down and the firefighters are eventually let inside. They are tactful and do not speak about the tragedy to one another. They clean out the ashes and debris. One of them notices a shape, a toy, surprisingly unburnt from the fire. He picks it up, wipes a gloved finger across it, revealing a white painted face and a Glasgow smile.
Pennywise's grin widens as the firefighter tucks him into his pocket.)
------------------I shall fear no evil.
sleaze
cancer x garbage
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Malis did not have time to react as her box snapped shut and the aching blue sky framing Nerissa’s purpling face disappeared. It was eerily quiet in this skyless prison, this starless night. There were muffled shouts, a sense of vertigo as Lena hurriedly drew the music box back to her chest and whirled away from Nerissa. If she could have, Malis would have flinched against the sudden evening light washing in through the crack between the box base and its decorative lid. She would have flinched again when the small, warm hand slipped in through the crack and wrapped around her patchwork indigo torso. The glue held for a moment and then cracked as the metal frame came apart from her stomach. Malis was glad she could not feel it. Suddenly she found herself being pulled through the crack, that small hand tightening as she was tucked conspicuously into a pants pocket. Not a moment later Nerissa ripped the box from Lena’s hand.
“This was mine you little thief!” Nerissa hissed angrily, her voice climbing to a point of near hysteria. She only spent a second looking at the outside, tracing the familiar ‘N’ with her boiling gaze. Then she flipped the box open and that loathsome gaze locked on Lena. “WHERE IS IT?” Nerissa demanded, shaking the opened box in the other girls ever paling face. “I don’t know what you’re-” Lena tried, her brown eyes widening with panic as her hand closed around the indigo pony in her pocket. “DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH ME, LOONEY.” Nerissa shrieked, emboldened by the way Lena had faltered before and then flinched away at the cruel nickname. “Where is the ballerina?”
Oh!
Lena’s heart fluttered with a dangerous hope in her chest. “Nerissa,” she said carefully, releasing the toy and pulling her hand surreptitiously from her pocket, “there was never a ballerina when I had it, I think you broke it.” Nerissa’s face crumpled for a moment, resembling almost instantly a puffed up pug dog. She did not like when people felt the need to point out her mistakes. Her arm tensed and flexed, and the music box was launched against the pavement of the driveway. Lena watched in slow motion, imagining the box as a ship lost at sea. The wooden groaned and buckled and sighed and shrieked, the glue flaking apart with the impact. It hit once, the first time, with a crunch that loosed several pieces. Then each bounce after shed more. When the music box finally rolled to a stop, it was unrecognizable, the wood splintered, the metal piece that created the musical chimes dislodged and disappeared somewhere in the grass at the edge of the driveway.
The box was no more than a shipwrecked husk
Lena felt her stomach lurch.
But Nerissa remained undeterred. She was enraged, a hellhound intent on its prize. She did not care that she now remembered the shattered ballerina sitting in a toy box in her room – the same ballerina whose pieces had sawed Buttons free. In fact she did not care about the ballerina at all. Nerissa wanted to know how Lena had come to possess one of her briefly beloved belongings. “You little liar! You probably have it hidden inside!” Much to Lena’s dawning horror, Nerissa spun and raced to the door of the small cottage. She reached the door before Lena did, tore it open, and rushed inside.
Lena heard Nerissa gasp as she came up into the entryway behind her. It was a small home with three cramped rooms and a bathroom. One room was used as a bedroom, another for the kitchen and dining area, and the last was the craft room they stood in. It also housed every toy rescued from Nerissa’s wrath, and a few of Lena’s own. Shrieking like a stuck pig, Nerissa moved to the shelf and began systematically tearing everything down. Toys, a surprisingly small amount of pictures- most of them current, and a few things Nerissa did not recognize as formerly hers. She wasn’t picky, though. Everything hit the ground and shattered, and what did not shatter was retrieved and dutifully picked apart by Nerissa’s clawing fingers. She was leaving nothing untouched.
“Oh, stop. Please, stop.” Lena begged with shining damp eyes, her small hand reaching out to Nerissa’s shoulder. “Please if you just go now I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done.” Her hand had done nothing but these words spun Nerissa around so fast she was nearly a blur. “What I’VE done?” She said, hissed, her voice eerily low as she leaned menacingly over Lena. “You stupid little git. Your mother stole all of this from me. FROM ME.” She laughed, spittle glistening at the edges of her jeering mouth. “Go ahead, tell them that I broke all the toys your mother stole from me. Let’s see what happens.” There was a cruel glint in her deceivingly blue eyes. Nerissa once more turned her back on Lena, reaching for a picture in a plain black frame sitting on a nearby self.
Lena screamed.
Nerissa paused.
The picture had seemed unremarkable at first. It housed four smiling faces, though Nerissa only recognized two of them. Lena and her mom sat adjacent a man and another girl, and each was beaming at another. It was a summer day on a beach, sunny despite the multicolor umbrella over their heads, and they had clearly just finished a lumpy, asymmetrical sandcastle they seemed proud of. It was a nice picture. Nerissa moved to open the frame and rip it in half but was frozen by another plea from Lena. “NO!”It was an agonized sound, this plea. “Nerissa please, I will do anything. Please don’t ruin that picture. It’s the only one we have left.” Nerissa paused for a moment, remembering how her parents had gossiped about the new widowed housekeeper and her damaged daughter. How everything they had was lost in a fire before they had arrived here.
Nerissa grinned smugly. “Then. Give. Me. The. Horse.”
For a moment Lena was genuinely confused, disoriented with panic at seeing the picture frame in Nerissa’s hands. But she followed that gleaming blue-eyed gaze down to the soft bulge in Lena’s own pocket. “How did you know?” Lena asked tremulously, her hand dropping protectively to her pocket. “Because I’m not an idiot like you, Looney. I SAW you put her in your pocket.” When Lena didn’t budge, Nerissa’s attention fell back to the picture frame. “Wait!” Lena said quickly, her resolve crumbling like the sandcastle in the picture.
The protective dark of Lena’s pocket bled into light, and the world took shape swimmingly in Malis’ disoriented gaze. She now sat in Lena’s trembling palm while Nerissa looked on thoughtfully, a strange flatness in the cruelty of those blue eyes. “No. This won’t do.” Lena blinked up at the girl with uncertainty blossoming on her pale, tear-stained cheeks. “I want it like it was before.” Malis felt Lena’s hand waver uncertainly beneath her. “I –I tried to fix her but-” Lena said shakily before Nerissa interrupted her with a raised hand. “No, like how you found her. That’s the only way I’ll give this back.”
Lena gasped with understanding, though it was a look of horror that bled all the color from her ashen face. Without a word to Nerissa, she turned and walked to the craft table with Malis clutched to her shaking chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She seemed to be stuck in her apology, even after she had sat down at the bench with a pair of scissors in hand. She cut the pipe-cleaner tail first, snapped off each gem of her glistening mane-ridge. It took a few hacking cuts to remove the glued on leg. Then she did her best to duplicate the pocks and scrapes by stabbing and slicing until her hands shook too hard with her sobs to continue. “I’m glad you aren’t real. I’m glad you’re just a toy.”
The words did nothing to soothe Malis who had once more crawled into the safety of the depths of her mind, nothing more than an already burned out star drifting in oblivion.
Lena thrust Malis at Nerissa who took the toy and examined it. She seemed satisfied, if her malicious smile was anything to judge by. “Fine.” She said, acting as though nothing in the last half hour had actually happened. She ignored Lena’s outstretched hands and tossed the picture frame in the pile of shattered objects at the center of the room, laughing when Lena rushed off to retrieve it. “Just so you know, if you ever tell anyone what happened today, I’ll have my parents have your mom arrested for stealing from me. So if I were you I’d have a great explanation ready for why you trashed this poor room! Such an unstable girl, Looney.”
With that Nerissa smirked and left, the indigo husk still clutched in her sweaty hand.
MALIS makai x oksana
You guys are amazing. Did you know that? You are. That was awesome, and I had a lot of fun reading everything you came up with. You all know how eliminations are my least favorite part of this by now, I’m sure. Well I’ve got some good news: this round, there aren’t any. Everyone who made it this far wins. Hooray!
Syl
“Well that was a disaster.” The voice is familiar, if muffled by layers of earth. Light begins to filter through to you as Grumblesnakes, the fairy who started this whole nightmare, digs up your grave. When he has unburied you, he gathers up all the pieces of your broken body and puts you back in his bag. He snaps his fingers and the two of you are Somewhere Else, a place made of fog and mist and possibility. With the waggling of his fingers, the many pieces of you float into the air and rearrange themselves, fitting themselves back together like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. Each time a piece falls into place, it fuses with its surrounding parts until you are whole again. Well, minus the hair Nerissa lit on fire and burned away. Grumblesnakes snaps his fingers, and just like that you’re back to your old horse shape, made of flesh and bone and no longer plastic – still your purple-blue-green colors, though. “The hair will regrow in time,” he says, with a nod toward your relatively naked mane and tail. “Sorry about that. Still don’t know what the bosses were thinking, assigning me to this little nightmare. But she’s not your problem anymore. Go home, kid. And I’ll give you a little something extra for your trouble.” Again the fairy snaps his fingers, and just like that you’re back home…
You may keep the coloring if you want, or it can fade over the next BQ year back to your original color. If you want it to fade, let me know and we’ll figure out a marking for you. And you now have the following trait:
Shattering – You’ve been torn to pieces so many times, it seems only fair to give you a chance to harness that. You now have the ability to make objects explode or shatter.
Erebor
“Well that was a disaster.” The voice is familiar, if distorted by your melted head. Grumblesnakes, the fairy who started this whole nightmare, appears beside you and Mr. Fluffy in the bag. With a sigh, he pokes at your mess of a body, and eyes the shredded remains of the stuffed bunny as he runs his hand through his hair. “Okay. I can fix this. Well. Fix you, at least.” He snaps his fingers and the three of you are Somewhere Else, a place made of fog and mist and possibility. With the waggling of his fingers, your mangled bodies float into the air. Your plastic shape softens and begins to flow back into a horse shape, back into the shape he’d first made you. The pieces of Mr. Fluffy rearrange themselves and flow the same way as the plastic did, mending together and filling back up with stuffing until he looks just like new. “Mr. Fluffy. You can go home now.” With a wave of his hand, the stuffed rabbit vanishes, headed back to his home with Lena looking like he did the day they met.
Grumblesnakes turns to inspect you, making sure you’re back to relative normal. “I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do without a wish, kid. The brat doesn’t want you anymore, so I can send you home too.” He snaps his fingers again, and just like that you’re back to your old horse shape, made of flesh and bone and no longer plastic – still your pretty new colors, though. “Still don’t know what the bosses were thinking, assigning me to this little nightmare. But she’s not your problem anymore. Go home, kid. And I’ll give you a little something extra for your trouble.” Again the fairy snaps his fingers, and just like that you’re back home…
You may keep the coloring if you want, or it can fade over the next BQ year back to your original color. If you want it to fade, let me know and we’ll figure out a marking for you. And you now have the following trait:
Heat manipulation – Well, you dealt with a whole lot of melting and burning and torture. Grumblesnakes is giving you the ability to harness that heat and make it your own. I feel like I can’t adequately express how this can be used in a badass kind of way, so I’m just going to link you to a description. http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Heat_Manipulation
Ephrelle
“Well that was a disaster.” The voice is familiar, if muffled by layers of earth and distorted by your melted head. Light begins to filter through to you as Grumblesnakes, the fairy who started this whole nightmare, digs up your grave. When he has unburied you, he gathers up the four melted pools of plastic that used to make up your body and puts you back in his bag. He snaps his fingers and the two of you are Somewhere Else, a place made of fog and mist and possibility. With the waggling of his fingers, the pieces of you float into the air and rearrange themselves, softening and reshaping and fitting themselves back together until you are whole again. Grumblesnakes snaps his fingers, and just like that you’re back to your old horse shape, made of flesh and bone and no longer plastic – still your purple-green-silver colors, though. “Sorry about that. Still don’t know what the bosses were thinking, assigning me to this little nightmare. But she’s not your problem anymore. Go home, kid. And I’ll give you a little something extra for your trouble.” Again the fairy snaps his fingers, and just like that you’re back home…
You may keep the coloring if you want, or it can fade over the next BQ year back to your original color. If you want it to fade, let me know and we’ll figure out a marking for you. And you now have the following trait:
Stegosaurus-shifting – Okay, well the shape you came up with was pretty much the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of. So I’m letting you keep it. You are now able to shift between your horse shape, the stegosaurus shape that lent you parts, and the midway form of your awesome equisaur shape. You’ll start out with full access to the equisaur form, and you’ll gradually be able to use the full stegosaurus form with practice and time.
Sleaze
“Well that was a disaster.” The voice is familiar, if muffled by layers of ash and debris and distorted by your melted head. Light begins to filter through to you as Grumblesnakes, the fairy who started this whole nightmare, digs you out of the wreckage. His face is pale as he gathers you up and tucks you into his bag. With a snap of his fingers, the two of you are Somewhere Else, far away from the remains of two fires, from the long-dead sirens and the wails that have gone silent. He pulls you out of his bag, sets you down, and waggles his fingers in your general direction, humming to himself as your melted plastic body reshapes itself into a horse. He snaps his fingers again and you’re back to your old self, flesh and bone. Still purple though, with black and pink streaking your mane and tail. “I…uh. Sorry about that. I have no idea what they were thinking, assigning a newbie to this case. But she’s…well, she’s not your problem anymore,” he says, looking nauseous. “Go home, kid.” Another snap of his fingers sends you back home, but with a little something extra…
You may keep the coloring if you want, or it can fade over the next BQ year back to your original color. If you want it to fade, let me know and we’ll figure out a marking for you. And you now have the following trait:
Possession – You can transfer your consciousness into inanimate objects, non-equine creatures, and with their permission, other horses. Conscious beings may fight your possession, and those with psychic defenses can fend you off. Successful possession allows you to observe through their senses, communicate with them, and speak through them, and with long-term possession and lots of practice it will allow you some control of their bodies. Long-term possession comes with the risk of losing yourself in the mind of another, though, so be careful. The ability will start small and build with use over time.
Malis
Nerissa may have wanted you back, but it was only to make sure Lena couldn’t have you. It isn’t long before you’re discarded again, and when Nerissa is asleep, you hear a familiar voice. “Well that was a disaster.” Grumblesnakes scoops you up, tucks you into his bag, and snaps his fingers. And just like that, you’re Somewhere Else, a place made of fog and mist and possibility. All he has to do is waggle his fingers and you’re whole again, intact and undamaged as if your torture never happened. You’re flesh and bone again, but still indigo-gold-fuchsia. “Sorry about that. I have no idea what they were thinking, assigning me to that little sociopath instead of…well, it’s not your problem anymore. Go home, kid. And I’ll give you a little something extra for your trouble.” One more snap of his fingers, and just like that, you’re back home…
You may keep the coloring if you want, or it can fade over the next BQ year back to your original color. If you want it to fade, let me know and we’ll figure out a marking for you. And you now have the following trait:
Regenerative healing – You now have the ability to rapidly heal from any injury, regenerating tissue almost instantaneously. Think Wolverine from X-men. This will also keep you from aging and make you effectively immortal, and gives you a pretty much indomitable immune system.
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