WHO: Greta & Fairytales WHEN: Saturday night WHERE: Somewhere in Indiana WHAT: A rampage of crazy and waking up WARNINGS: violence
Greta didn't know how long she'd been with Fairytales. Sometimes she remembered being born of the goddess, a dark lonely night in a snow-frosted cave, her tiny screaming body coming free with such effort and blood from her mother.
But sometimes she remembered instead that they were sisters: That Fairytales is red-haired with roses on her lips, and that Greta herself is pale as snow. Despite their differences they love each other more finely than any sisters before them had ever done. (No bear comes to warm itself by their fire.)
But maybe Greta is actually the mother, and each time Fairytales leaves Greta must sew and sew those shirts of thistle without a word. Because if she speaks and breaks the spell, Fairytales will never ever come back to her and she'll be alone.
Greta couldn't stand to be alone now, not after the whole world that Fairytales has shown her.
Lying on the bed Greta heard the door and sat, waiting for the beautiful redhead to come see her. Greta was still human and she needed more sleep than Fairytales. In fact, she needed more sleep than ever before these days, this journey exhausting her.
Fairytales walked with bare feet, her steps dancing across the floor. She felt alive and wild and awake in a way she hadn't in a long time. All that time in the forest was nothing compared to this journey of redemption and revenge. She went by Rose-Red these days, though sometimes Blood-Red would be more appropriate.
"Hello, my Snow," she said, her voice light like birdsong. She wore an oversized teeshirt stolen from one of their victims, and her eyes were bright. "Isn't the night time beautiful? Lady Moon is like a mockery of Gentleman Sun." She went to the window and threw it open, the heat of the summer night time enveloping her, and she breathed it in.
"Have you been out there for long?" Greta asked. She had pulled herself to her bare feet, approaching the redhead and wrapping her arms around her from behind. "I've been inside too long. There are bad men out there still."
"I know, my darling. They will receive what is coming to them," Fairytales replied, stroking her fingers along Greta's arm. "I think we have waited long enough to deal with our latest wolf, don't you?" She pulled out of Greta's embrace and turned to smile at her, leaning in to kiss her deeply. "There are damsels to be rescued out there."
Her steps towards the door were firm now, and she looked back at Greta and held out her hand. "My princess," she said, and it was a command to join her, not a request.
Rose Red had skin as soft as the petals of her namesake and her lips made Greta tingle all over. "Yes," she whispered against those lips. "Let us rescue them all then."
She took her goddess-sister's hand with a smile - both sweet and somewhat feral - and gripped tightly, ready to be dragged wherever they would go.
They went together to his house. Fairytales pushed her hand against the front door and pulled them both through without a sound, without disturbing anything. The man was asleep in front of the television, drunkenly snoring, and she pulled a silver knife from within her shirt, bending ever so quietly to slice his ankles. He woke screaming, and fell to the floor, unable to get up as his feet no longer obeyed him.
"That is for the child who cannot run away from you," she hissed, clamping her hand over his mouth. He stared back at her, nostrils flared as he sucked in air. She snarled at him, snapping her teeth, knife in clear view. "We know what you did, you monster, you filth." She spat at him, and he flinched, shaking his head as the knife began traveling down his chest towards his navel, and lower, his shaking growing ever more frantic.
In these situations Greta was not the instigator, but simply the follower. She did anything and everything that Fairytales asked of her, and right now she was crouched a little distance from the man, her long hair messy across her face and making her look wild. Whatever this man had done, he was going to pay for it now.
She looked up at Fairytales, awaiting any instructions for what she should do.