The bitch is back

Elwin throws machetes with his eyes at the Lynch Jar, a chill going up his spine.

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“I appreciate that, upstanding citizen.  It’s not really a big deal, though!”

“Chae is the ‘medium’ who talked to me in my dreams.”

“Of course, she really does exist, and as a sheriff I know for a fact she is a part of the mafia.”

“…Not to mention, I despise Frollo, and Chae certainly doesn’t have that effect on me.” 

“Thank you, valued citizen!”

“Leads?  Well…I’ve heard that Chae isn’t really a medium, but a janitor!  I could at least gather that she’s in the mafia.”

“You Fool.  You Absolute Heathen.”

The executioner’s eyes flutter open – he feels as if he’s been hit by a bus.  Where was he? What is this dull ache in his mind, in his heart?

Hadn’t he been listening to all those voices, ready to shoot anyone who came in the door?

…He’s in his bed.  Princess is asleep on the pillow next to him.  How long had he been asleep?  He stands, his legs a bit wobbly – what had happened?  He goes to the kitchen.  There are no gifts from a vampiric friend.  No coffee for the killer amnesiac, a friend lost.  No lemon tea for a short lived lover.

But he’d kept it all!  He always kept it all…

Unless…it had been a dream.  But that was impossible, right?  How could his mind have fashioned all those insane events into a dream?  All those people…really exist.  He’s sure he could walk outside, and see Adaline, or see Nathan, or Amelia, or Quinn, or any of the people he’d interacted with in his…dreams? If that’s what they were.  Was he really friends with them?  Perhaps they all hate him.

And perhaps dreams and reality had become entwined far too much.

Elwin pinches the bridge of his nose.  He hates rude awakenings.  Especially when he’s not entirely sure of their nature.  Surely, some events really had taken place.  He couldn’t have dreamt all of it up.

He unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt, just to check –

Nothing.  He hadn’t really ever died, then…?  

He supposes that’s a relief.  

The house is not alive with the sound of fourteen cats.  He chuckles – yes, he remembers his three darlings.  Fourteen was most definitely wistful thinking on his part.

Princess, Fudge, and Slippers.  He retrieves their food from the pantry, pours it into their bowls, and fills the water dish as well.

Everything is in its place.

One part of the dream continues to haunt him, however.  The reason for the ache?

The medium.

Her name is…Chae.

His next target?

To be truly effective, he’ll have to sort through the convoluted mess of memories left behind, and decide for himself what is real, and what is not.  He’ll have to meet the new members of town, convince them of his innocence, of his trustworthiness.

It is time to be the “sheriff” once again.

Surely, that medium is a janitor.

The executioner smiles wryly to himself.

He’s back to himself, and it’s quite a relief.

[[ahhh you’re so kind.  I accept some of the responsibility as far as certain falling outs, but certainly not all of it as far as...everything goes.]]

Elquinn doodles as promised.