Just here for fun

On the day of your 23rd year, your mother cheerfully announced your marriage to a neighboring kingdom. 

Cheerfully for her, pay you mind. The second the unwelcome words met your ears, it was as if the ground was going to crumble beneath your feet and swallow you whole. A large part of you was hoping for it to, just so you didn't have to go through with this whole ordeal. 

The only royalty that you had the displeasure of meeting in such a way had been Barnabas. It had been at your older brothers day of birth celebration, and his harsh words and lingering gaze had left a horrid taste in your mouth; One you weren't keen on tasting again. 

But, your mother is buzzing with excitement as she tells you the news, of how you're to be married to one of the Rosfield's, how he was chosen by the phoenix, how much of an honor it is, how wondrous it will be to unite your kingdoms. 

And so you smile, swallowing the dread creeping up your throat in a thick burning acid as you nod along to your mothers words. Your clasp your hands behind your back, posture stiff as a board as you squeeze them together to stop the shaking and fidgeting you're sure will be quickly noticed and corrected. Crescent shaped indents slowly work their way into the soft flesh of your palms, skin tinged with pain, angry at the sharp nails attempting to intrude. 

Her joy only mildly faltered when you asked 'how long' you had, as if the marriage was a death sentence, and not something to bring your kingdoms closer together for a strong, never-ending alliance. 

To you, it did feel akin to a death sentence of sorts. A death of the life you've grown to know, a death of the freedom to choose, the death of a future with real love and devotion. 

You were leaving the next day, too early in the morning for much thought on the matter. Everything seems like such a strange blur as you return to your bedchambers, mindlessly packing keepsakes you're not sure if you'll be allowed to display in a weeks time. 

The mattress is soft, dipping beneath you as you gently lower yourself onto the edge of your bed, hands splayed out against the familiar fabric of your duvet as you try to process in the healthiest way possible. Deep breaths don't seem to do much to quell your nerves, however. Instead, worse-case scenarios run on a loop through your brain in a rapid fire pace, all quick and fleeting and unhelpful, dancing and taunting and nagging until you can think of nothing else. 

Nightfall comes too fast, the moon never such an unwelcome sight as you sit out on the balcony, begging up at her to please give you an easy solution long past when you'd usually be sound asleep. You stay out there until you're shivering, skin cold to the touch and bed sheets sounding all too enticing. Still, you do not move, afraid this is your last free night, afraid that when you rest your head, morning will come all to quickly. 

The moon keeps you company all the while, stars twinkling back at you like they know better, silent and pale as you stare up at her in pain and wonder. That's where one of the maids finds you, curled up in the corner of the balcony to your room, sound asleep and bed unused, eyes puffy and dazed from a tearful night. 

You were able to force and fake a smile the whole trip over, listening to your mother boast in utter glee. Hours of how proud of you she is for being selected by the man's own parents, the thought twisting and churning in your stomach. He could not even chose himself. 

A loveless marriage indeed. 

The Rosalith Castle is large and imposing, all cream colored marble and intricate details, so much different than the dark woods and stones you had grown up around. The staff is eager and welcoming, ushering you and your mother into the large halls with bright smiles and flattery, your body and brain having no time to process as you're brought into the throne room. 

You can do this, can swallow the dread and the creeping acid, can smile and be diligent and pretend; It's what you were trained your entire life for. 

But, when The Duchess stands from her throne, strutting leisurely toward you with nothing short of a judgmental eye, your resolve cracks and waivers once again. 

Mayhaps you cannot, actually. 

You curtsy, giving the woman the winning smile that apparently got you chosen to spend eternity next to her son, but her eyes do not change. They rake over your frame, disapproving in every sense of the matter, humming softly to herself before she meets your eyes with one of the fakest smiles you've ever seen, nearly rivaling your own. 

"And, this, is the woman to whom my son will be married?" She keeps the smile on her face, hands folded in front of her as she analyzes you like a hungry serpent, ready to pounce and rid of you at a moments notice. "Apologies for Joshua's absence; He's spending the night in the infirmary with a cough."

"I am sorry to hear he is unwell." You place a hand over your heart, words as sincere as the gesture despite not knowing the man. You truly do not wish him any harm, nor do you want him to be sick or unwell. You just simply don't want to marry him. "I do hope that he feels better soon."

"Hm, yes." She nods, still practically scowling at you. Her eyes trail you up and down once more, moving away from you to greet your mother with far more respect than she had treated you, the obvious hatred she holds in her heart for you unwarranted and gut retching.  

You don't hear what she says to your mother, an apology for the archdukes absence, an important council he couldn't miss-The very same one your father is attending. Your thoughts are louder than their words, however. Too quick for you to quite catch, all horrendous and fear-fueled images of the woman's son who you're sure must be just like her. Suddenly, everything is far too real. Any hope you had of a kind hearted soul you could grow to be close to shattered in an instant, crumbling around you and slicing into your brain and heart in a lingering fear, muscles tensing like you're ready to run away at a moments notice. 

Your feet stay planted, however. Posture stiff and set like stone, overly polite and delicate, using every trick in the book just in hopes to make the woman smile, to make her look at you with something other than seething rage and disdain. All attempts fall short and unnoticed. 

The conversation seems to stretch on for miles, full of unnerving glances and snarky comments from Anabella hidden behind a practiced smile. You're only allowed blissful distance from the conversation for a short while, your mother unhelpfully turning the conversation back to you much sooner than you would've liked. 

"Is Joshua sick often? I'll have you know my daughter is actually quite the nurse." She brags, a hand on your shoulder like she's showing you off. And, she's right. Your mother and father had you attend countless lessons on medical aid, insisting you should know how to care for your people in every way possible. "I suppose you and Elwin picked the perfect bride for your son."

"Lets hope. It was Elwin's decision, after all..." Anabella trails off, never the more unimpressed while she grazes over you one last time, as if you can feel her picking apart your every flaw and imperfection. She stops to meet your eyes, smile shifting to something sharper as she speaks. "I'm sure you're very confidant in yourself."

The comment catches you by surprise, brows just barely twitching and mouth opening before you can stop yourself from speaking. "Not nearly as confidant as you, it seems." 

The room is still, not a breath to be heard in the large open space. Your hair seems to stand on end, more shocked at your own rather snappy words than hers. She freezes for the briefest of moments, the ghost of a scowl crossing her features before she returns to her tight-lipped smile, eyes narrowing as she lets out a low laugh devoid of any amusement. 

"Sharp girl." She eyes you before her gaze snaps back to your mother, nodding as if she isn't seething. "That's needed to run a kingdom."

It isn't long after your little slip-up that you and your mother are being escorted to your sleeping chambers for the night. Tomorrow, you meet Joshua. Then there's preparations, and you two will be wed in 7 moons. 

Your mother is quietly scolding you the whole way to your room, not only for your comment, but for being unable to make a good impression despite it being your very job in the moment. Her words drift in one ear and out through the other, your very bones starting to feel uncomfortable under your skin, restless and frightened like a wild animal being backed into a corner. 

She finally leaves your door with a huff when you say you need to get some rest, a half-hearted apology for the accidental comment you had let slip in the moment. You watch as she's lead down to her own room, waiting until she's out of sight to silently shut your own door, now trapped in a box with a countdown to your inevitable doom. 

Your hand stills on the door, smooth wood beneath tender skin, brain rushing through thoughts so quickly it feels like thinking nothing at all. 

It takes a moment before your body comes back to you, hand sliding away from the door as you whip around, legs moving before you know what you're doing or what your plan is. You only really realize what you're doing when you're hastily tugging on your boots and already in clothes suitable for what will surely be serval nights out in the wilderness before you arrive at another town. 

Are you really going to run away?

You stop, boots on your feet heavy and grounding as you assess your situation one last time. 

If Joshua is anything like his mother, you honestly don't want to spend the rest of your life here. In fear of being yourself, of carefully watching everything you say and do to an extreme you never thought possible. 

Sure, you'll have to change your name, travel far, probably change something about your appearance and fend for yourself in a way you've never had any real experience doing. But, it all sounds better than being trapped here in a palace full of anxieties and dread. A beautiful castle you'd be confined in, never again feeling free. A gilded cage of your own passiveness.

You glide silently across the marble floor, mind more than made up as you slip your cloak over your head and pull open the door. Hopefully, you'll have at least until sunrise before anyone notices you're gone. 

The castle is silent around you as you move quickly down the halls, never so thankful for the practice spent sneaking around your own home to steal treats from the kitchen late at night when you were meant to be long asleep. 

Finally, you see it. A balcony all too welcoming, leading to a garden in the back of the palace. You hurry over, barely contemplating as you look over the edge for the safest way down. 

With the swing of a leg, a steady grip, and a prayer to the gods, you make it up and over the ledge, hopping down into the soft grass below you on unsteady legs as you attempt to settle your racing heart. You barely give yourself a moment, eyes darting for the quickest way out without being seen. You can see the lights down the path toward the entrance to the garden, and you know all too well from experience there must be guards stationed not too far down the trail. 

Instead, your gaze settles in the opposite direction, beautiful flowered vines trailing up a stone wall making for what should be an easy getaway. You start for the wall, unaware of the new figure slinking out and into the garden for his own wallowing. He only catches sight of you when he hears you sigh softly up at the stone keeping out intruders, shifting to look at the mysterious cloaked figure finding percase before they begin to climb.

The man steps further out into the grass, watching in a mixture of curiosity and wonder at the figure breaking out of his castle garden. He's entirely unafraid, to be frank. The figure not only smaller than him, but clearly on a mission away, and with nothing in their hands to show for it. 

He reaches the bottom of the wall the same time you just about reach the top, a soft smile on his face as he calls up to the shadowy figure that so quickly caught his attention. 

"Whatever are you doing?"

A gasp falls from your lips as the man's voice catches you by surprise, foot slipping against stone as you lose your balance. He shoots forward needlessly, arms stretching out to catch you despite you having already steadied yourself on the wall. You spare a glance over your shoulder, looking at him with obvious frustration at the interruption. 

"I'm leaving, " You turn back to the wall, the smallest grunt leaving your lips as you hoist yourself up to sit at the top of the wall. "If you don't mind." It's clear you aren't asking, rather intriguing to the man standing below you as you shift with the intent to swing your legs over the wall. 

"And, why are you leaving?" His voice is soft, full of genuine curiosity as he looks up at you, a wonderful distraction from the stressors of arranged marriages he has no say in. "My Lady, I'm not so sure it's safe at this hour." There's a tinge of amusement gracing his tone, entirely unable to reason out why someone would be leaving the palace in such a manner.  

"Quite honestly, facing whatever horrors await me tonight feels far less intimidating than the new life awaiting me once dawn breaks." You sigh, legs dangling over the stone wall as you look down at the figure cast in shadow, unsure why you're still talking rather than running. "At least I'm choosing this."

"It seems you have quite the dilemma, My Lady." A perfect distraction indeed, a lady in seemingly even more distress than he is. Despite not knowing you, he's eager to hear more of your worries, hoping to ease them, to smooth them out and wash them away the same way he wishes he could for his own troubles. "Mayhaps it would be beneficial to voice your concerns? At least, before you go running off into the mouth of a morbol."

His comment makes you giggle, pausing as you shift your gaze to the large field behind you, a strange unknown life waiting on the other side of the wall. Maybe he has a good point, it may just be a good idea to talk out the plan, at least just so you have a better course of action to follow. And, frankly, you're almost desperate for a kind, understanding ear.  

But, you've never bore your burdens to anyone. And you're not only unsure if you know how, but if you should in the first place, especially when it feels so hard to pinpoint where exactly to start. And, what if he tells someone? Better not to have anyone know the details, right?

"Maybe if you come down off the wall, your brain can focus on thinking, rather than not falling." He smiles up at you, worry gracing his features even though you can barely see it in the pale moonlight. "At least to spare me the fright every time you wobble."

"Only if you promise not to tell a soul that we've spoken." Your voice is low, cautious despite the smile settled on your features at the man's strangely calming presence. 

"Cross my heart." The man beams, marking an 'X' dramatically over his chest before he reaches up to offer you his hand, lending you his help as you climb and hop down from the stone wall. 

His hands are warm, only leaving you when you're steady on the ground before him. You remove your hand from his to dust yourself off before slipping your hood from your head, wholly trusting the man when he says he won't tell a soul of your escape. 

He's taken aback the same way you are as you look up at him, your twinkling eyes catching and lingering on striking blue, soft and kind as he looks down at you with such admiration you fear you may grow weak. 

Strawberry blond frames his face in long layers, soft and blowing lightly in the breeze as the looks at you the same way you're looking at him. He thinks you may just be one of the most beautiful sights he's ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, the thought twisting and sinking in his chest as he remembers his own woes, soon to be betrothed to a woman he's never met. 

"Your beauty is breathtaking," He breathes out the words before he can stop them, a warmth spreading from the tips of your ears to your cheeks at his kind flattery. "I feel akin to an insect drawn to the sun."

"Such words..." You avert your gaze, bashful and caught off guard by the rather handsome man's forwardness. "My lord, whatever are you doing out here at such an hour?"

"I do believe I asked what you were doing, first." He gives you a boyish grin, clearly amused by his own childish words as he waits in the dark moonlight for the rather beautiful woman's response. "But, if you must know, I was in search of a distraction."

"A distraction from what?" Your head cocks to one side, brows softly knitted together, and in too much of a hurry to take on a strangers worries instead of focusing upon your own. 

"How many questions must I answer, before you return the favor?" The kind smile on his face soften his rather sassy words, earning a soft giggle from you; The litted sound making his heart swell and soften as he admires you. 

You pause, sifting through the last few days as you decide where exactly to start. Or, if you should tell the truth at all. It only takes a moment to decide, the man in front of you exuding nothing but a kind calmness, such warmth it feels impossible to leave. 

A sigh escapes you, your hand reaching for your own arm in search of comfort as you hold yourself close. You avoid his gaze, opting instead for the soft green grass beneath your boots, the attention almost overwhelming as you think of the possibility of the future chosen for you. 

"Well, I'm meant to marry one of the Rosfield heirs." You sigh wistfully, thinking back to the life you had before everything seemingly changed in an instant, hardly catching the spark of surprise in the man's face. "I've never met the man, only his absolute wench of a mother."

Your words make him burst into a fit of laughter, the realization he was having interrupted by words he never truly thought he would hear aloud. You pause, words stopping all at once as the man before you tries to regain his composure, slowly easing into a soft fit of giggles yourself, his happiness entirely contagious. 

"Promise not to say a word?" He finally asks when he composes himself, watching with admiration as you nod up at him, giving him 100% of your attention, welcoming the distraction from your own woes. "I think I have to agree with you." He takes a moment to admire your smile before he continues, suddenly nervous under your gaze. "And, I have a confession, if you'll listen?"

"Anything, My Lord." Your voices stay low, leaning in a little further than either of you have to, just to keep the already private conversation even more hidden from unprying ears. You can't help but be drawn to the man before you, eager to hear any woes or worries, and even more eager to help in any way you can. 

"I think we may be in a similar predicament." He pushes through his nervousness, eyes sparkling in the low light nearly making you lose your focus, worsened when he takes your hands in his with all the gentleness in the realms. "My name is Joshua Rosfield," His words cause your blood to run cold, the only thing barely keeping you grounded being Joshua's thumb soothing over your skin in a repeated pattern. "I believe I'm the man you're meant to marry."

"Oh, founder." A mix of panic and doubt settles itself deep under your skin, buzzing and burning and mortifying as you glance back to the wall, hoping against all odds you may be able to flee from your own embarrassment. "I am so sorry--"

"No! Oh, please, do not apologize. What a pleasure it was, to meet you in this way." His smile is bright, warm hands never leaving yours in a kind attempt to reassure you. His eyes hold no animosity, glistening and joyous as he stares down at you. "If you'd still like help getting over the wall, I'm sure I could lend a hand."

His words soften your panic, shoulders relaxing as you look away from the wall and to the man before you. Truthfully, now that you have met him, seen just a sliver of his heart, staying here in this palace doesn't seem like too bad of an idea any longer. You smile, bashful as you avert your gaze down at the grass beneath your boots.

"Mayhaps I should stay." Your words cause his smile to grow, ever thankful the woman he's been deemed to marry is so kind, so understanding, so soft and so beautiful. Anticipation for the following sunrise grows more and more, for when you two are meant to officially meet.

"Then, shall I walk you back to your bedchambers?" Joshua looks almost nervous, offering you an arm to take in hopes to spend a couple more informal moments with the woman he's quickly become so captivated by. "Only if you'd allow."

"I would adore so, Joshua." Your own smile stretches as you take his arm, standing at his side as the two of you set a leisurely pace away from the garden wall, and back to the palace.

The warmth he emits is inviting, a comforting contrast to the chill of the night breeze. The feeling nearly makes you forget yourself for a moment, trying to conjure up a way to be closer to the man, just to steal a little more heat. Instead, you two share hushed conversation about how strange it will be to 'meet' each other once dawn arrives.

You learn little things along the way to your bedchambers. Joshua has a brother who he loves dearly, he can't wait for the two of you to meet. You learn how sweet he is, how he always thinks of others before himself, and he makes you smile so wide your cheeks hurt by the time you've finally reached your door.

He's smiling just as wide as you are, having been equally as nervous as you before the two of you had met. He couldn't be more grateful, thanking the founder and the stars above that he was matched with such a perfect life companion. He had learned your name, and about your family. He learned your favorite sweet, and promised to make them with you the next time you're able.

Joshua settles in your doorway as you step inside your room, turning to face him with a smile he thinks could easily rival the moon itself in beauty. He could stare at you for hours finding new details he loves more than the last, he thinks.

"Thank you, Joshua." You take a careful step toward him, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, leaning up just enough to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He looks utterly blissful, never so eager for sleep, just so he may wake up again the next morning and finally be in your presence again. "For walking me back, and for easing my nerves."

"Anytime, My lady." He nearly hesitates before walking away, keeping quiet as he sneaks his way back to the infirmary in a routine he's done for as long as he can remember. This time, though, he has a newfound excitement settled comfortably in his chest.

Tim was right, passing through 'Her' part of the woods was by far the strangest. Although, you can't be absolutely certain until you've actually left the seclusion of the forest. It took more than 30 minutes to reach a road, and another hour of driving later, Tim says you're 'nearing civilization'. You're not sure what his standards are for near, but it's another good 15 minutes until you see the first telephone pole amongst trees slowly beginning to grow sparse.

It dawns on you at some point that it would take days to make this trip by foot. It makes you wonder passively if anyone had tried to run away before, only to be met with endless trees and a stretch of road that seems to wait until you're already dead to bring you anywhere close to help.

Then, you remember you're allowed to ask questions. If Tim wants to answer, is another story.

"Has anyone ever run away?" You're leaning back against the seat, having gotten comfortable in your spot long ago, sinking further into the leather the longer time passes, and the more snacks you and Tim share. "Or like, try? I can't imagine anyone has succeeded."

"Ain't I tell you 'No questions'?" There's no animosity in his voice, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes leave the road for a moment to meet yours. "What happened to that?"

"Slender told me I'm not allowed to ask what any of you do for work, and any other questions are up to who's answering." You keep your eyes on the side of his face as he turns back to the road ahead, a smug little smile settling itself on your features. "So, 'the one who's answering', what do you say?"

He hums, lips pursing to the side as he ponders how to phrase his answer. He takes so long you think he's decided to ignore the question, your eyes moving from having been tracing along the line of his facial hair, to the long road ahead of you.

"People have tried to run, yeah." He finally responds, something a little less playful in his tone, a new tightness in his jaw. "The last one that tried really fucked up Jeffery."

"Is that why he hates me so much?" You keep your voice soft when you pry for more info, unaccusatory in your tone, purely asking for curiosities sake.

"I think he hates us, not you." He shakes his head, a hand rubbing his beard as his eyes stick on the road like he's afraid to move them anywhere else. Your eyes catch a speed limit sign pass the car, the first one you've seen since the drive started. "Can't blame the kid for it, neither."

You hum, the guardrails studying themselves as the road turns to bridge, fleeting sights of a town peeking through the trees catching your attention long enough for the topic to pass by. The low beat of the radio dancing with the hum of the old engine replaces the space where you and Tim had been speaking, simply thinking so hard you forget to say anything at all.

More questions unallowed to form before flood your mind until they're all too jumbled to pick one out of the sea of wonders, floating and falling and cascading and crashing before you can hold onto one long enough to keep it afloat. Your brows stay knit together, a searing pain in your head muffled by the painkillers and amplified by your sudden internal conflict.

On one, very large hand, they took you from your home in your sleep and moved you to the middle of the woods. You have nowhere to go if your apartment is supposedly condemned, you're not actually sure if you're safe in the house, constant warnings and alarm bells ignored by something other than you through your body. Blood and gore caked into the walls and floor, strange meat in meals you don't want to think too hard about, an ungodly amount of people 'not making it very long' when in your exact position.

But, on the other hand, they went through the effort of bringing your belongings, of making sure your cat was happy and unharmed on the trip over, of making sure you're comfortable. Overall, everyone has been kind to you—Even Jeff, who always acts like someone just got done pissing in his cheerios, hasn't said anything rude to you, he just doesn't like you. And, he doesn't have to. In a house with more people than you can count, you're bound to annoy somebody somehow.

Your cat always seems just as relaxed as he felt at your apartment. But, you're not allowed to ask where any blood comes from. You're about to make more money than you could've ever dreamed of, but Viviana can see you with white pupils, and Jack can see you seemingly without any eyes at all.

There are too many knives, the trees are too tall, the house shifts and sleeps and—

"You doin' okay over there, Sweetheart?" Tim's voice breaks your spiral, glancing over at you with an expression you can't quite read, eyes scanning you in a way that's reminiscent of the way he was observing you when you first met. "Don't pass out on me, now. This supply run ain't meant for one person."

"What the fuck did I get myself into." You don't phrase it as a question, moreso stating aloud your thought process as you stare blankly at the road ahead, trees turning to town as you finally reach civilization. "What is wrong with me? I would kill one of my friends with my bare hands if they told me they were doing this."

Tim laughs, corners of his eyes crinkling as he tries to process what exactly you just said. He shakes his head, eyes darting over to you every couple seconds despite his seemingly amused demeanor.

"Well, try not to start running, I'm not sure I have the energy to chase after you." His words do absolutely nothing to ease your newfound panic, parking in front of a hardware store before he settles back in his seat to look at you, scanning over you in that particularly analytical way that should bother you far more than it ever has. "You've got a lot of willpower. Don't think I've ever seen someone shake off the house this quickly."

"Okay, number one, the first thing you said is terrible. Don't ever say that shit again." You shake your head at him, pointing at your fingers as you make a list. "And B, what?" You give him no time to answer your unspecific question, unbuckling your seatbelt to sit a little funkier in your spot, unsure of what the plan is from here. "Was Slender just trying to make me feel better by telling me I could leave at any time if I asked? What does—And, why can't I fucking remember what he looks like?"

"Whole 'lotta questions for the agreement we have." He's clearly teasing, an easy smile rested on unworried features, only growing when you look at him with something close to disdain. "Listen, Slender may not be the best guy out there, but the words he says are true. If he told you you can leave, then you can leave." He pauses before he answers the second question, eyes wondering as he tries to find the words to describe something impossible to see. "I think when your brain doesn't know what it's lookin' at, it just sees nothin' at all."

You don't respond, staring out the windshield at the old hardware store as you weigh all the options, all the logistics, trying to decide just exactly how dumb it would be to leave or to stay.

The house is beautiful, the work is balanced, you don't have any rent to pay, your cat is happy and safe and clearly loved by at least three members in the manor. And, fuck, the pay is almost unreal. But, you're in the middle of nowhere, and there's an unusual amount of blood, and you're pretty sure you ate—

"How 'bout this," Tim snaps you back out of the short spiral, seemingly unhappy about the words he's choosing to say. "You can ask me a question once every hour we're out, and I have to answer as best I can." He begrudgingly extends his best olive branch, meeting you somewhere near the middle in what seems like the best compromise you'll be able to get from him. "Within the normal guidelines, 'least."

"And then what?" Your words seem to catch him off guard, seemingly expecting you to take the offer without thinking about the end goal. Or, not having thought of the end goal himself. He raises his eyebrows in a silent urge to continue, waiting for you to specify what you mean. "Like, after I've asked my allotted questions and it's time to go back inside the mansion, then what? What's the point of that?"

"You think too damn much." He sighs, one hand resting on the steering wheel like it'll ground him somehow while he uses the other to rub his eyes. "Then, fuck, I don't know, you can decide if you wanna stay or not. Listen, I'm doin' my best here."

"Okay, okay." You lean your head back against the seat, closing your eyes and taking as deep of a breath as your lungs will let you, waiting until breathing in any more aches and burns and stretches your organs almost too far before you finally let it all out. You settle in your seat, muscles relaxed and head just barely dizzy enough to feel clear when you open your eyes again to nod, the plan as good as it's going to get. "Deal. Let's go."

The hardware store doesn't take all that long, and Tim knows exactly where to go and what to get. It barely takes 45 minutes to get the supplies you need from there, 15 minutes left in your timer before you're allowed to ask another question. It's harder to settle on one than you thought it would be, the chains and ropes and tubs you both pack into the back of the truck only leading to a million more.

You thought this was an area of town you didn't recognize, but as soon as the truck is away from the first stop and driving onto the second, you realize this isn't the town you're from at all. You don't bother using a possible question to ask Tim, your phone taking the place as tour guide in the moment as you use the device to figure out where you are.

Soon enough, your phone is telling you that you're in the middle of absolutely Nowhere Oregon, deep in the trees somewhere in an old town that has too few people and too many abandoned buildings. Or, at least the buildings look abandoned. You're not going to go around checking them all, that's for sure.

During the stretches of silence where you and Tim aren't crossing things off the list you've been given, you reason out the best options. You and Oatmeal are seemingly safe, being told no-one in the manor is allowed to hurt you, and so far not giving you any reason to think they would. Despite how eerie everything is, how unsettling it all seems, how dangerous you know it should feel, you don't feel like anyone intends to harm you.

Even with a clear head, even when you can see the warning signs uncovered by the rose colored glasses placed securely on you while in the presence of Slender and his Manor, you don't want to leave.

The grocery store Tim parks in front of is large for the small town, positioned across from a gas station that seems to be on a perfect stretch of road where people catch themselves running low on fuel for themselves and their vehicles. Fresh flowers sit in plastic pots all along the front of the store, puddles beneath them still drying out in the sun from when they had been watered.

Your eyes land on a rack of newspapers as you settle beside Tim with the shopping cart, the headline making you slow your walking speed just enough to read it as you pass by.

'BODY FOUND MUTILATED BY ANIMAL'

Tim moves around your frame to pick up a newspaper, shaking his head with a quiet scoff and a smile that holds a familiarity you can't place. Your eyes scan the paper as he opens it up to scan through, the father of a family found torn apart in his bed, his only daughter young and without a scratch, claiming she 'heard and saw nothing' the night her father was attacked.

You barely get through the part where investigators had found out how horrible her father was when Tim folds the paper back up and tosses it in it's place with the rest of the newspapers on the rack, shoving his hands in his pockets as he starts back on his mission toward the store.

"Looks like Viv is up to her shit again." Tim's voice is somewhere near the fondness of a disappointed parent, falling into pace beside you as he sets the list in the cart so you can both see it, everything neatly organized to each section of the store. "First question?"

"What is Viviana's…," Your words trail away as you figure out a way to form them, the previous question you had loaded and ready falling short of the new curiosity. "Whole deal? Like what is she about?"

"We don't really know, to be honest." He shrugs as he speaks, clearly trying to remember what he can as the two of you move through the isles and cross items off the list. "We found her chained to the bottom of the river nearby awhile back. She's just been…Like That since we found her."

"And you don't know why she was in there?" You hope to squeeze out another question without him realizing he's being asked, using his own confusion and curiosity against him to get more information for yourself.

"Ain't got a clue." He shakes his head, thankfully taking the easy bait as he answers to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, not knowing much about the colorless woman himself, your knowledge doesn't change all that much. "She said her village drowned her, or somethin'. You'll have to ask her and see what she can remember."

You hum, checking the time as you restart your mental timer for another question, trying your best not to push too many extra despite the endless curiosity. Instead, you make sure to tell yourself to ask Viviana what you can the next time the two of you happen to be alone.

Something else, you've realized, is having to put aside your own skepticism in order to ask any of these questions, or listen to the answers. You wouldn't believe more than half the words coming out of his mouth of you hadn't been living with these people the past couple of days, stuck in an endless loop of nothing making sense, and still being the truth regardless.

It almost makes your head hurt, growing quickly tired of the perpetual headache forced upon you since you woke up in that house.

The answer you need the most, is if you're safe. You know you've been told the members cannot hurt you, and, nobody has given you reason to think they would. But, it still nags at the back of your mind, the reality of being a lone woman living in the middle of the woods with roughly 14 people you've never met before this. If you break the situation down to it's most simple terms, You were removed from your bed in the middle of the night and told to work for people you had never met before, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with people who trek in a suspicious amount of blood and gore.

But, the problem is, it isn't that simple.

They pay you better than you could've imagined, they feed you incredible meals, they made sure you have all of your sentimental nick-knacks and belongings, and kept your cat safe and happy on the trip over. You have a beautiful room, the house itself is probably the nicest you've ever even looked at, let alone been inside of. Plus, it's kinda nice to be around such wonderfully chaotic people.

You aren't trapped, you were interviewed and hired for a live-in position. If you had driven into the woods yourself, then you would simply be incredibly judgemental of people you haven't taken the time to get to know yet. Except, you didn't drive. You went to sleep and woke up in a new home.

How horribly complicated.

By the time the rest of the groceries have been gathered and placed into the cart, it's nearing the time you're able to ask another question, walking back to the front of the store while you sort through the best way to phrase the next wonder you're speaking into existence. If you're being entirely honest with yourself, you don't want to leave. Even if you think about it in the scariest, most terrifying version of events, you would simply rather stay in the manor, rather than going back out to fend for yourself in the outside world.

Without the cloud of the mansion or of Slender-If that's even a real possibility-Your logic is still the same. The people are kind to you and Oatmeal, the house is beautiful and a pleasure to live in, the work is reasonable and dependant on what you can manage day-by-day. Quite honestly, you really like it there.

So, even though you're still more than planning on participating in the hourly questions, your motivations are based more in curiosity, rather than decision making.

Tim insists on putting the groceries on the conveyor, and on bagging them, leaving you to converse with the cashier and pay with the money Slender had provided. He says you did all the work so far, and even though you don't consider pushing the cart around and finding things on a list to be a ton of work, you're more than happy to 'Leave something for him to do' if it makes him happy.

"That husband of yours is a catch, dear." The old woman scanning the groceries surprises you, a kind smile on her face as she spares Tim a glance, the man busy meticulously stacking ingredients into paper bags. "I remember when my husband and I were your age. Time flies by so quickly these days."

"Oh! uhm," Your initial instinct is to correct her. But, the love in her heart, the nostalgia in her eyes as she looks between you and Tim with a smile full of memories—It all makes it awfully hard to. So, instead, you smile back, adding very little to the conversation with a weak "Thank you, Ma'am."

By the time you and Tim are back out at the truck, you've mostly forgotten about the awkward interaction. Instead, your brain space has now occupied by the next question, or the bird that tweets overhead as it passes, and by fitting the groceries into the back and making sure not to squish the bread. Apparently though, despite you not having realized he heard the interaction in the first place, Tim is busy plotting.

He waits until you've both gotten into the truck, the slam of metal doors making the old thing shake and shift on it's tires, the newly familiar scent of worn leather filling the space as you settle in. That's when he looks over at you, an expression you can only describe as 'Mischievous' making you stop mid-way through buckling your seatbelt.

"What?" You hate to ask, but your curiosity is far stronger than your weariness.

"Oh, nothin'." He shrugs, fingers turning the key in the ignition with his eyes still on you. He sits back in his seat with leisure, like the two of you have all the time in the world, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile still plastered on his face. "Just happy to know I make such a good husband."

"Oh, shut up." You can't stop the laugh bubbling out of you, covering your face to muffle the sound in your palms, ears warm with embarrassment. "It looked like she was reliving her youth, I couldn't take that from her! Poor woman should be retired by now, anyway."

Tim laughs with you, full bellied and bright, the sound lighting up the musty truck as he finally puts the old thing in reverse and pulls out from the parking lot. With the cold groceries safely in coolers, and the rest meticulously stacked with the rather suspicious supplies, you've only got one stop left to go. In town, anyway.

"So, next question?" He glances toward you for a brief second as he drives, getting caught at one of the too-many traffic lights the town has considering it's size. "Unless you've run out of 'em."

"I don't think I could ever run out of questions." You stall a moment before asking, the thought you have far too heavy for the previously happy and light moment the two of you had shared seconds ago. "Are Oatmeal and I…Safe? Like, genuinely?"

"In the mansion? Sure, I'd say you two're pretty safe." The air shifts, something stilling as Tim ponders how to phrase what he wants to say next. He shifts in his seat, leather creaking beneath worn denim before he speaks again. "Once you're out in the woods, it's not a guarantee. But, we try to keep the area as safe as we can."

The first part of his sentence sounds so sure, that you and Oatmeal are safe and out of harms way inside the walls of the manor. It's his tone afterwards that makes you nervous, wondering what could be in the woods besides the normal threat of wildlife, the glint in his eye indicating something a little different than just a simple bear or wolf.

Silence lingers in the car after his answer, only the muffled staticky radio to fill the space where laughter was just moments ago.

The pharmacy in town is stocked up on the goods you need, a positive side effect to having so few people live in the town, and of Slenders foresight; Planning the shopping trips around when the stores receive new shipments. You and Tim separate to get through the stop faster, and thankfully he's been on this supply run enough times not to need the list.

You, however, are carefully reading every item before you place it in your basket, tasked with grabbing basic meds and bandages while Tim picks up a slew of prescriptions. You eye the pharmacist, weary as he hands Tim the paper bag rattling with pills.

"Haven't seen you around here before." The voice beside you makes you snap your head the other direction, Tim now out of sight as you face the stranger with a kind smile. You return the gesture, the man not much older than you, and cute enough that you really don't mind the obvious way he's looking at you. "At least, I think I'd remember seeing a face so pretty."

There's not much time to decide if you're going to laugh off the comment, or lean into it. Instead, a warm arm is plopped around your shoulders, the lack of plaid flannel confusing you before you even properly realize it isn't Tim standing beside you.

"Good try, buddy. But me and you both know you've got a lady waiting for you back home." You look to the rather sassy voice beside you, paying you no mind as he speaks to the man who was trying to flirt. A 'Death Proof' cap obscures most of his features in unnaturally dark shadow, unnerving smile poking through the only light allowed on his face. "So, put that ring back on your finger and scurry home now."

The whole interaction happens so quickly there's barely time to process, the apparently married man dropping his persona in an instant. He scowls, obscenities falling from taught lips as he turns around. He digs in his front pocket as he walks out of the pharmacy, silver ring glinting in the sun as he slips it back on his finger.

You pull away from the mans loose grasp, his face shifting up just enough to remove the shadow hiding his eyes. He grins at you, the way he's observing reminiscent of a hunter looking at a lost lone pup who had unwittingly made it's way into the yard of a cabin, naive as it seeks shelter from the very thing meant to kill it.

"Who the fuck are you?" Words fall from confused lips before you can stop them, watching the way he leans back to place his hands in his pockets, the opposite of a slouch in his posture while he grins at you like he's just won a prize.

"Gotta be more observant, Bunny." He ignores your question, leaning toward you so suddenly it makes you flinch, the unintended reaction making his smile grow impossibly. "Otherwise bad men with worse intentions could be just a couple feet away."

"Habit, leave the girl alone." Tim sounds tired before the interaction has begun, thankful you're at least more annoyed than uncomfortable with the unwelcome intrusion. "She's got enough to deal with already."

"Aw, is she yours? I thought something smelt familiar." The way he says it indicates he means something more like a cute little pet, and not in the way the old woman from the grocery store had assumed. "You've got to keep your eye on her, it seems like she attracts all kinds of weirdos."

"Fucking, tell me about it." You don't mean to say the thought aloud, voice muffled in an irritated grumble. Regardless of your intention to speak, it makes Habit laugh, busting into a quick fit so loud it makes the pharmacist pop his head out from behind the counter to see what had happened.

"Why are you here? I thought you were out runnin' errands for at least another couple weeks." Tim speaks like there's a sigh hiding behind his teeth, subtly shifting to stand just in front of you with his arms crosses over his chest like it'll block some of Habit's strange tendencies.

"Awe, Timmy boy, are you keeping tabs on me?" Habit puts a hand over where his heart should be, overly theatrical in his movements like he's doing it purely for the love of the game. "Actually, I finished early. Now, I'm on my way to pick up some meat from Mrs. River Lady at your very own humble abode."

"That's great, Hab—"

"If I'm not mistaken—Which, I'm not—That's exactly where you're headed, no?" He interrupts Tim with the boop of his nose, the action earning a hefty sigh and a heavier eye-roll, the ability he has to keep his composure going any further than irritation honestly impressive. "It seems to me like a kind offer is in order. Care to let me join, Masky?"

"Absolutely not." Tim is stern, arms only uncrossing to turn toward the counter, already starting on his way out of the unwanted interaction without sparing Habit another glance. "C'mon, let's go."

"See ya later!" The bell above the door chimes as Habit leaves, and you silently wonder what he came into the pharmacy for in the first place.

It feels strangely quiet after Habit is gone, dead air hanging still where a boisterous attitude had livened up the rather gloomy store. Even though he was rather silly, and bold in a way that was unnerving, it was a nice brief change from the people you've been around as of late. Tim is sweet, but he has the demeanor of a retired K-9; Inherently protective, and a little tired of being on edge all the time. And yet, still unable to turn off the paranoia from a turbulent life.

Luckily for you both, the rest of your time in the store is uneventful. Soon enough, the drugs and medical supplies are safe in the back of the truck, and you and Tim are buckling up your seatbelts, finally time to make your way back out of town. The last stop on the list simply says 'Cabin for charms', and quite frankly, you're not at all sure what that means. Tim does, however, and doesn't seem all too excited for the stop.

It's not long before you two are back on the road toward the woods, leaving the small town to shrink in the rearview mirror until you two are back in the trees, a small bag of chips placed between the two of you to share. You eye the clock on the radio, minutes ticking by until you can ask another question.

Well, you could ask a question at any time. It's an answer you're waiting for.

Silence with Tim is something you wish you had experienced sooner in life. Where the quiet would usually be unnerving, it's instead peaceful, almost refreshing. The air grows sweeter the further away from civilization you get, windows cracked just enough to feel the wind gracing your skin as you let your body relax in the passenger seat, silently hoping Tim isn't too tired of driving.

"Who is Habit?" You choose with no hesitation to break the silence once you can get another answer out of him, shifting in your seat towards Tim to give him your full attention while he speaks.

"Another employee, sometimes." He grumbles, clearly exhausted by the strange man and his seemingly constant antics. Tim takes a deep breath, attempting something besides a sigh, just to make the huff of air even larger than it would've been had he just committed. "He's not the body, he's just, Habit."

"That answers a ton," You give him a sly smile when he glances over at you, his expression blank, and bordering on irate. "Thank you for the in-depth explanation, Timmy boy."

"You get on my nerves, y'know that?" The fond smile breaking through false irritation betrays his words, turning his head to glance out his window for an excuse to compose himself, and rid of the unusually boyish grin he isn't quite used to anymore. "Alright, the kids name was Evan. He and his friends got themselves mixed up in some stuff they really shouldn't have. And, uh," He tsks, a sliver of remorse shining through newly stiff demeanor. "Mankind's Bad Habit got to him. Now, he doesn't get to be Evan too often."

A hum stands in place of a response, too many new wonders filling the space where speech should be. Instead, you take a chip from the bag between you, and Tim turns the radio up a couple notches to fill the air with something besides his own un-chosen regrets.

The drive into the woods seems to take less time than the drive out of it, keeping your eye on the clock confirming your suspicions. What took you nearly an hour of a never-ending stretch of road between forest and town, takes a breezy 25 minutes instead. Far sooner than you should be, you're back on old worn down pavement soon to turn into a tightly packed dirt path, trees becoming denser and taller until the very definition of 'nature' starts to become unnatural.

Soon enough, you're on that very path, and the silence has grown comfortable again.

Just as soon as the quiet rumble of the truck engine fills all the space you need it to, the darker the woods seem to become. The birds chirping few and far between, hum of insects becoming harder to hear, ears straining for any sound that should be plentiful around you. It starts to become a bother, shifting in your seat to eye the furthest edges of the trees for any movement, and hoping you don't see any.

In a snap so quick you think you may have imagined the stillness, the sounds all seem to come back at once. It's as if the wildlife is hiding in this circle of forest, safely tucked away from the horrors of being near the manor.

The whiplash of sound and environment makes you confused, a strange forceful clarity causing you to focus on things you normally wouldn't. Preoccupied with the passing deer freezing at the sound of the truck, you barely notice the little house in front of you until Tim parks and the engine shuts off.

It's a small cabin, made of deep woods and stone, situated amongst too many flowers and plants, tucked away deep in the forest where it's unlikely to ever be found. It's cute, albeit a little eccentric.

"Last stop, let's go." Tim's voice fades as he steps out of the truck and shuts the door with a loud slam, warped metal refusing to shut without the extra force.

Wind-chimes and bells line the small porch, with more above the arched front door resting with a mixture of dried herbs. Sun catchers hang and swing in the soft breeze, and there's just enough space on the deck between all the potted plants for a rocking chair to sit comfortably beside a little intricate metal table. It's warm and inviting, vines growing up the side of the house and keeping the air cool under the shade, blooming flowers making the air sticky sweet, almost heavy enough to make you sleepy.

Tim knocking on the door echoes though the trees, dissipating in soft repetition until all that's left is the bells and chimes twinkling around you. You wring your fingers together, trying to listen for any sounds coming from the other side of the door, and unable to hear anything besides faint music playing somewhere from inside.

The door opens so suddenly it's startling, a woman with deep brown hair and deeper eyes string back at the two of you. She blocks the way inside, standing with one hand on the doorknob, and the other on the frame, face twisting in displeasure up at Tim like he's already said something offensive.

"What are you doing here?" She scowls, barely sparing you a glance through her clear hostility. You nearly reel back, never having experienced the feeling of someone so viscerally willing you out of their space.

"I'm here for the—"

"No, what are you doing here." She interrupts Tim before he can even start, emphasizing her words to get the proper meaning across. "I know what you're here for. Why are you the one picking it up?"

"Slender sent the two of us out on a supply run." Tim shrugs, more than used to dealing with the feeling, and eager to get the encounter over with so he can get back home. "This counts as supplies."

"You and Slender are morons," She sighs, warm eyes spiked with irritation as she moves to cross her arms. It seems the more she speaks and moves, that she's irritated at the circumstance, not at either of you. "I was going to teach Viv how to do this so you don't have to keep—Whatever, it doesn't matter." The woman turns on her heel, leaving the door open for you and Tim to step inside. She barely glances behind her as the two of you pass the threshold of her doorway, waving a dismissive hand with her words. "Take your shoes off."

"Nice to see you too," Tim teases as he leans down to untie his boots, having a one-sided conversation with the questions this unnamed woman hasn't asked. He sets the boots aside, smile nearing mocking as he stands upright. "I'm doin' okay these days, thanks for askin' Sugar."

"Why did you bring her here?" She ignores him, looking away from the counter in front of her for just enough time to give you a look full of pity, turning away not a moment later to focus on her work. "I told you to stop bringing them around, I'm tired of making new friends for them to get—"

"C'mon, now. There's no need for that." He stops her before she can finish, definitive words hidden beneath a sweetened tone. He steps further into the house, footsteps silent on the too many plush rugs covering old hardwood flooring. "You know I ain't got any say in what Slender orders us to do."

The woman pauses, chewing the inside of her lip as she hesitates to lend the help she's required to. Eventually, she sighs, long skirt flowing at her feet as she moves from place to place near a large pot placed just a few feet in front of the small counter she seems to do her work at.

You glance around the space, deep purples and reds in the couches and rugs, too many lamps and plants filling any empty space, a constant soft breeze coming in through the wide-open window you're sure is never closed. It's peaceful, safe and soothing in a way the mansion just barely misses.

"Go get my black salt and the lemon balm from upstairs." Her voice brings you back to the present, waving Tim away before she strips the buds off of dried lavender and tosses them into a mixture to get crushed with a mortar and pestle. She glances behind her when he reaches the top of the steps, moving to open a drawer and dig something out. "Sorry about that."

"Not the worst interaction I've had, you're okay." You dismiss her worry, watching as she digs through the drawer for a moment before she pulls out a beautiful gold ring and turns to you, taking one of your hands in hers to place it carefully on your finger. "Uhm, what's this?"

"It'll help with the fog." She pats your hand before she lets it go, returning to her mixing and crushing like the quick interaction didn't happen at all. You look at the ring on your finger, detailed and intricate, your eyes drawn into the swirls and loops around sparkling gems.

Soon enough, Tim comes back with a bundle of dried herbs, and a bottle of dark salt. You watch as she mixes honey into her new mixture of crushed ground herbs, forming a paste that she scoops out and slaps down onto the counter with a wet schlop.

The paste is spread out thin and sprinkled with the salt, the woman mumbling to herself as she works. She traces something into the thin drying mixture before smoothing everything back out, leaving the layer alone while she leans down to open up the cupboard. You become a little lost in what she's doing, pulling out a case of memorial necklaces and standing to place them beside the now cracking concoction spread on the counter.

Whatever she made, some mixture you aren't sure you saw all the ingredients for, is now dry and brittle, turning to ash as she scrapes and chops it thin. She fills and caps six necklaces before dusting off her hands and turning back to the two of you, holding them by the chains to drop them into Tim's open palm.

"Tell Slender that I said next time, he does what we agreed to, or he doesn't get his half of the deal." She nods toward the door, urging the two of you out of her space.

"Yes, ma'am." Tim doesn't waste any time, turning in one swift movement to slip his boots back onto his feet and step outside. He calls out after you, something about wanting to get home before dinner, and you can hear the door to the truck open and shut.

You thank the woman before leaving, finding your place in the car beside Tim as the engine roars to life, surely disturbing the abundance of wildlife chosen to take refuge in this seclusion of woods.

The whole interaction barely took 15 minutes, and even though you're positive after driving for another 20 that you're more than close enough to the mansion, you don't seem to feel the strange dizzy out-of-body looseness you usually do. You glance at the new ring on your finger, glinting in the small beams of light straining to peak through thick trees, and wonder if the small accessary is actually doing anything to help.

You've got no real idea what the necklaces are for, or what the woman's intentions are. But, if the wildlife feels safe enough to stick around her little bubble of safety, it doesn't seem like an unwise decision to at least assume this ring isn't meant to harm you in any way. At least, you hope so.

Seeing the mansion is surprisingly relieving, not quite expecting the large imposing building to feel like home yet, and feeling that content relaxation anyways. A large part of you is happy to be back. Even with apparent clarity and less fog, with more information that makes the logical half of your brain on constant alert, parking for the final time of the day in front of the manor feels like a breath of fresh air.

You're excited to be home in time for dinner, for the banter and entertainment of watching the large mesh of people try and get along with one another. You're excited to be done working for the day, to lay your aching body on a plush bed and relax with your cat, to take a shower and lounge in your coziest clothes and wonder if a little voice will wake you up in the middle of the night for a treat.

It may be unconventional, but it's home.

Brian and Toby are tasked with bringing in the supplies you and Tim brought home, and it's a little more rewarding than you anticipated to see members of the mansion flock out in excitement for a refill on their favorite snacks. Sally gives you a picture she had drawn in crayon of you and Oatmeal, having apparently spent the whole time you were gone working hard on her project.

You stick around outside for a bit more fresh air under the guise of being helpful, answering which items are in what bags when eager voices and hands are poking around for food and trinkets. Eventually, the lot has moved themselves back inside to unload, and you're making your way up the front steps as Tim settles himself against the porch railing where you had found him this morning.

"Alright, darlin'." Tim speaks through a cigarette, pausing just long enough to flick open his zippo, golden light fanning across his features until it's put out in one quick snap. "Final question."

"What's in the woods?" You keep your voice low, eyes drifting to the never-ending series of trees forming a maze excusing itself as a forest. The curiosity gnaws at you, hair standing on end as you strain to see something you don't want to be there.

It takes him a moment to respond, gaze shifting somewhere behind you as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. He's careful to blow the smoke away from you, needlessly flicking the ash that hasn't formed into the tray beside him. His answer makes you wish you had chosen a different question, the unease you were trying to work through becoming nearly unbearable with just one sentence.

"The reason some of us don't think we should keep bringin' in you townsfolk."

.⋆♱ ⦻ ♱⋆. .⋆♱ ⦻ ♱⋆. ⦻ .⋆♱ ⦻ ♱⋆. .⋆♱ ⦻ ♱⋆.

AN: YAAYYY I FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER GUYS!!!! I added Habit last minute in the Pharmacy scene bcs I thought he fit there and bcs I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR I simply do love that man. Witch in the woods is just Witch in the woods, she has no name because I do not know it, If any of you would like to suggest a name for her, lemmie know ദ്ദി(˵⎚ᴗ⎚ ˵ ) ✧