Heart racing, she ascends, another scream that is cut off sharply rents the air as she makes the landing. She looks around. A hallway. Multiple doors. But she needed to go to the pink one. She didn’t know how she knew that, just that the pink one was the right one. As she dashes down the hall lit only by moonlight, she catches sight of a mirror on the wall.
Large eyes glitter in a small, childish face filled with fear.
And then it is gone as she keeps running.
She hits the door and hurtles inside, only to trip over something in her way. She flounders a bit, finding herself trying to gain purchase on something sticky and wet spilled on the wood floor. A lot of it. They’d be mad. She knew they would. It was expensive. Bare feet with dark all over them step towards her and she looks up.
He looks down at her and smiles.
She tries to get up, wishing he would help her and her fingers close over something. She draws it closer as she manages to sit up. The lights flash on and she is blinded, squinting at the small figure at the door.
“Ophelia!”
The figure is screaming, then gone, and he is chasing after it. She can hear them clattering down the stairs and the door slamming. Her eyes try to focus on what is before her, what she tripped on but she can’t.
The door slams again, heavy feet pounding up the stairs.
Screams.
Her name. Being hauled to her feet. Yelling at her. Why were they all yelling at her? She was shaking as they sat her down. Shaking as they pried the thing from her grasp. Shaking as she was led from the house. Shaking as she was bundled into the car. Away from it all. Away from home.
Away from all the screams.
It wasn’t me......
Lycana jolts awake, breathing hard a lightly sweaty as the ceiling comes into focus. She closes her eyes again as she realizes that she is safely ensconced in her own bed. These damn nightmares were starting to come more and more frequently and she was starting to wonder if there might be something to Marf’s theory that he was rubbing off on her after all. At the thought of the man who was her partner, she turns her head towards his side and opens her eyes to see if he was still sleeping.
But it's not his face she sees. Reika’s body is nestled between the two of them in the bed. With a startled shriek, Lycana shoves herself away and, arms flailing, falls off the side of the bed to land on the floor with a thud amidst the tangle of blanket.
She battles to get free of it, as Marf, woken by the comforter being yanked off of him sits up. “Wha...” he sleepily mumbles, looking to the side. His eyes pop open wide as they take in the dead girl's body laying smack in the middle of the bed. “Oh shit... did I do this?” he mildly questions Lycana, peering over the side of the bed at the thrashing pile of fabric on the floor. A muffled sound comes from it, that could have been a reply or a curse, he wasn’t really sure. As he turns his face back towards the dead girl, her eyes pop open.
“Oh SHIT.” he repeats, this time with more inflection as he stares at the no-longer-dead Reika. “Well, this is a twist.” he remarks as Lycana’s fingers finally appear on the mattress as she frees herself from the cocoon. Her head slowly rises as she peers over the edge of the bed, trying to see what had drawn the exclamation from Marf. Reika’s head turns towards her now, and she nearly falls back once more. Her jaw hangs down to the floor before it snaps shut.
It had worked!
She had no idea why it had taken so long, but it had worked! She scrambles from the floor back onto the bed, impatiently kicking her leg until the blanket that clung around it releases its grasp, and falls back to the ground. She settles on her knees next to Reika, her hands floating in the air as she tries to hold herself back from simply grabbing her and crushing her to her chest in an exuberant hug. “You’re alive! When did you wake up? How are you feeling?” the words pour from her as she gives in and bundles Reika up close. “Yeah, and how did you get into the bed?” Marf adds.
“Can we have pancakes?” the ever so soft voice pipes up.
“Wait... what?” Lycana pulls back to look into the wide, vacant eyes of Reika, who wears a very dreamy expression. She smiles slightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she opens her mouth once more. Lycana waits for the ‘Gotcha’ to come so they could all have a good laugh.
“Can we have pancakes?”
“Oooh, pancakes.”
“Marf!”
“What?! I like pancakes.”
Lycana looks from one to the other as they both stare at her expectantly. She just shakes her head. Maybe some coffee would make things clearer than what they were right now, because she certainly had no idea what the fresh hell was going on. “Well, I guess we can...” she gets no further before a jubilant, childish cheer comes from Reika, who bounds from the bed and skips from the room. They can hear her trotting down the stairs as Marf turns to look at Lycana. “... go down to the kitchen.” she finishes uselessly.
Marf shrugs and slips out of the bed as well, grabbing his shirt on the way out of the room as he follows the blond towards the kitchen, leaving a baffled Lycana still sitting there. She shakes her head sharply. Maybe this was just a temporary thing? It had to be... yeah, that was it. Pancakes?! Really? A loud crash comes from the kitchen, that had her springing to her feet.
“Waffles are better.” she mumbles as she exits the room.
She wasn’t quite sure how it happened but not too long later she finds herself standing over the stove, flipping pancake on the griddle trying to keep up with the Bottomless Pit and the Garbage Disposal. She turns with a fresh stack in time to catch Reika slipping some to Fenrir under the table. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing as she walks the pancakes over to the table and sets them down. And then the platter is empty.
She blinks.
And blinks again.
Gone. All of them. Onto the plates of the two living black holes, who were already slathering butter and applying the thick maple syrup to the steaming flapjacks. She picks up the platter and trudges back to the griddle wondering just what her world had come to in such a short amount of time. One day she’s all excited about getting her hands on Ash Quinn and the destruction of Jim Jimson, raising the dead and the next she was... domesticated and making pancakes.
For said dead girl whose mind apparently had not returned all the way with her. Hopefully this was just... a lingering side effect of the spell...in fact... She ladles batter onto the griddle, then turns to face the two at the table. “How are you feeling Reika?” she inquires. “I could eat a dozen more!” Reika replies around a mouthful of food, stuffing more in as she does so.
Maybe not.
“Do you know how you got into the bed with us?” Lycana tries. “I crawled.” Reika turns guileless eyes to Lycana as she chews, a drop of syrup sticking to her lower lip. Lycana takes a deep breath in, thinking maybe the third time would be the charm when a low growl from Fenrir makes her pause. She looks around, noticing nothing, until her eyes alight on the window. Rolfe was coming through the trees at the edge of yard.
Rolfe!
“SHIT!”
Marf’s head whips in her direction as Reika frowns. “Thats a swear.” she informs Lycana as she hurries over to the blond. “Yes I know, uhh sorry. Listen, you have to go hide and...” she whispers. “Oooh, like, hide and seek?” Reika is clearly excited by the idea. “Yes! Marf will play with you.” she answers, nodding. “What?!” Marf gapes at Lycana as she turns to stare desperately at him, her eyes flickering to the window and back. He rises, takes a gander then hustles Reika up and out of the room, talking to her as they exit “Let me show you some of the best places to hide from Lycana...”
Lycana notices smoke, and cursing under her breath makes it over and whips the now blackened pancakes onto the platter as, in typical Rolfe fashion, he strolls in her door stopping dead at the sight before him.
“Are you.... cooking?!”
He appears to be aghast as Lycana’s face morphs into a scowl. Rolfe moves over closer to her and stares down at the charred remains on the platter. He raises an eyebrow as he side eyes her. “Marf likes my pancakes.” she spits out defensively. “I bet he does.” Rolfe snorts.
Lycana grabs the platter and dumps the contents into the trash, flinging it into the sink as she turns to see Rolfe sniffing the air. She eyeballs him warily as he narrows his eyes at her. “I smell Reika.” he states suspiciously. “Well, I did spend the night with her body.” Lycana pauses as she realizes how that sounded. They stare at each other for a few beats before he speaks again, ignoring the chance to pick apart that particular comment.
“Thats one of the reasons I'm here. We need to burn her Lycana. It's not right to...” he is cut off. “Okay.” Lycana interjects. Rolfe pauses and looks confused at her sudden acquiescence. “Ahhhh... did you find anything out?” he asks. “No. Not a thing. I’ll bring her body to the pyre.” she replies. He studies her, his brow furrowing as he looks her from the top of her head, to her feet and back again, wondering where this new agreeable Lycana had come from.
“You said that was one reason, what was the other?” Lycana questions, trying to distract him. He shakes his head, keeping whatever it was he was thinking to himself. The expression on his face turns from one of distrust to one of severe seriousness. As his mouth opens, she can't help but stare in morbid fascination, wondering what turn her already ludicrous morning was about to take.
“Someone tried to kill Dion. The pack war has begun.”
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“The road to March Madness is paved in slaughter, gore, and seeing ones most fond whimsy come true. Or at least mine is. I didn’t know what to expect walking into this pay per view, but it has delivered beyond my expectations. Some have their eyes on wearing the crown of King or Queen. Others gear up to try and get ahold of some glittering gold, wanting to pry it from the grasp of those who are just as eager to keep the belt within their own possession.
Neither are in the cards for me.
So, what am I going into that I am so excited about? Where has my name been placed, that gives me such satisfaction? What has me crossing the days off on the calendar, wishing they would roll by at a faster pace so that I can get to Las Vegas?
Ash Quinn offered up on a beautiful silver platter.
And the apple stuck in that lovely suckling pigs' mouth? Absolutely anything goes. No holding back on each other. Our imaginations are free to go wild, to come up with the most unhinged plots to unleash on one another. Bringing our own toys to strike with, the impact causing bruises to bloom like ravishing flowers upon our skin. Devious plans on how to part the others flesh, scattering bright splatters of blood about the ring, like grisly rose petals decorating what will be the grave of Ash.
It’s been a long time coming, this particular match, one made for me in heaven and for Ash? The deepest pits of despair. She has been in her own purgatory, deep in limbo while waiting for the devils to take their due. The Shooting Star match was a glimpse of what the apex of this grudge could be, but only the barest of it. A mere flicker of what this epochal event will be.
We are nearing the crest of our journey, and I will seek to make it as memorable for both of us as I possibly can. Our bodies will bear the scars of our collision, visual reminders of the sublime night we had with one another. I hope you plan to bring me your very best... more than you have shown thus far.
You’ll need to.
And it still won't be enough.
Ash, you went crying in the locker room saying that the Left Hand held you back. Moments later you were saying how Queen of Ashes brought your best shit and you were going to show this fed what you could do! If we were holding you back... how is it the Queen of Ashes is your ultimate self? We were the ones who brought that forth within you. All of us, tending to the tiny spark until the fire started to come to life. We helped you birth that persona, we fed it by granting you the lead in so many opportunities... with Jenny Myst, with Alias, and more.
And you took them with glee.
You wanted to shine. You wanted to be the star. We pushed and pushed, driving you to become more than what you were. You flourished. You were getting the praise you so dearly wanted. But the moment we turned our attentions to allow someone else to rise? You couldn’t keep that momentum going on your own.
You faltered.
You cried.
You sulked.
The Queen was nothing without her family holding her up. She couldn’t stand on her own two feet. She was just a child playing dress up, the crown too big to stay put on her head without an extra set of hands there to help steady it.
The Queen turned out to be nothing but a whining little brat, looking for her gold star. Wanting to be put above all else, the only one on display, placed on a podium to be admired for what she had become... but not willing to put in the work on her own to do so.
You wanted all of us to shine our spotlights on you, because you knew once we took them off... you would be standing in the dark. And here you still are. With barely the most piteous little spark showing you still exist. The dullest of dull, all your fire eaten away til not even the embers remain.
What have you done in recent times? The answer? Nothing much. You declared war on the Misfits and even failed in that so far. But it was the Left Hand that held you back... with many of your wins coming from your time with us. We did so much to ameliorate your work. All for you to shit on us and try to forge forth on your own once more.
Where.... you failed.
And have since hooked up with the Belles, where I believe you came out and attacked Mandii with them once. And.... that was about all of note.
I hear crickets chirping Ash.
Here is your chance to prove yourself and show the world just how much better you are without us. The greatness you declare yourself to be. Your moment to step in the ring one on one with me and prove that you are better than the Left Hand. That you can fend for yourself. To show that the spark and drive have not been snuffed out. Bring that beast you scream about all the time. Providing truth to the words you say; that you are going to show us all what you can do!
SHOW ME!
Bring me her! I want you to. I want the vicious side you claim to have. I want a brawl. I want you to give me your best... and still fail. Because that’s what's going to happen Ash. No matter what side of you appears before me, you will end up at my feet. Because that wildness you claim you have, does not exist. The beast that lives in you about as ferocious and threatening as a hummingbird, and just as fragile. Easy to crush.
There is no more Queen of the Ashes... there is only a sad shell left in her place, the mediocre and uninspired soul that was first fished out of the gutter by the Baphomet. Just plain old Ash Quinn.
Ash has sunk back down into the abyss, the unknown. The forgotten. The afterthought. Her name on no one's lips anymore. But after March Madness, that will no longer be the case. Your name will be the talk of the town. You will be known once again... but not as Queen of the Ashes.
It will be oh Ashley Quinn... that poor girl Lycana demolished.”
