#bdrpmerida

@heart-of-dunbroch​

Look, Toulouse was not standing on the doorstep of Merida’s castle because he cared about her. Not at all. He was standing there because Belle cared about Merida, for whatever asinine, Belle-ish reason that he would probably never understand entirely. 

And he was standing there because he cared about Alice. Despite himself.

As soon as he arrived on the stone steps, having texted before he arrived, he smelt the scent of the other werewolf--San--and felt his anger boiling. It was alarm, more than it was anger. Alarm at how all of this had suddenly managed to unravel. Toulouse had very content to leave Merida to her own devices in the woods, but with a hunter on the loose and more and more wolves revealing themselves, even Lou saw the merits of closing ranks. 

“Merida,” he called impatiently as he raised his fist to knock on the door before stepping back. 

@heart-of-dunbroch

When Artemis fled the shoppe it was to a chorus of cackling, dead voices.

No matter how loud they were: the absence was louder.

What cruel, twisted Fates made the rule that mediums could not hear the voice of those they loved and were deceased? Who was it that made this call? Heartless. Heartless and savage. That was all Fate was. There was nothing kind about it, nothing heroic. Only cruel and empty. 

If Apollo’s voice could whisper in her ear, perhaps the shattering of her heart would stop. Perhaps, he could stop the avalanche, the eruption, the tsunami. It would take just a word. 

Despite knowing that it was impossible, Artemis searched through the echoing laughter for her brother’s. If he laughed at her, or called her a monster, she would not care. Even though he’d been the only one to never call her these things and never treat her in such a way. 

As she sprinted from the shoppe towards the treeline, she could not out run the ghosts and she could not out run the absence of her brother. Towards the north she angled herself, once she had broken through the treeline. Vines sprang from the earth to try and slow her, branches tore at her hair, bushes jumped into her path. She tripped, she scrapped her knees and the palms of her hands, but like a vicious, wild animal, she snarled and broke the vines and branches in her bloodied hands, killing them the way she killed everything. 

It took an hour, but she made it to the river’s edge, her bloodied clothes torn into tatters, her hair a mess about her head. The look in her eye was savage as she knelt along the bank and cupped her hands together, so that she could drink from it’s cool waters. Everything was dead and still here, she could rest a moment before continuing on to the Gates.

For a few minutes, she was able to catch her breath again, but then--

There was a snap of a twig.

In the next second, she had swept her bow off her back and notched an arrow, pointing it towards the sound. 

@heart-of-dunbroch

Maui had lost Dipper and Merida.

This was not uncommon--as all of them had different circles. They drifted in and out of each other’s circles throughout the night at parties like this. Didn’t always stick together. Or, sometimes Dipper and Maui fucked off somewhere or Dipper and Merida or, occasionally, Merida and Maui (they fucking crushed it at flip cup and other various drinking games.) 

Sometimes, though, he wanted to hang out with his friends. His friend-friends. Not the random people that he knew vaguely. 

So, he wandered off from the group he’d been talking to in search of one or both of them. 

It had taken some searching, but finally, he’d managed to track down Merida. Though, not in any condition he wanted to find her in. Someone had told her they’d seen someone with Merida’s description moving past--crying. Which made Maui’s heart clench. Merida didn’t cry.

She made other people cry.

He found her in a more or less quiet hallway (nowhere was ever quiet during a party, of course.)

@heart-of-dunbroch

Akela had been in the woods when the Undead had risen. He had been mostly unconcerned, since he had gathered his family quickly and quietly and they had hidden away. Of course, Adam, before he could reach him, had succumbed to the sorceress’ will.

That was the downside of what had happened.

The upside was that he knew who it was that had terrorized the forest, and more importantly: threatened his family.

It was the girl. The one with the hair like fire and an attitude to match. 

He supposed he should not be that surprised. The older man seemed much too seasoned for such carelessness. The boy seemed uninterested. Akela had followed all three of them at one point or another.

Most people walk around thinking custodians are low life education drop outs. Orville, to be completely honest, had thought the same. Only when he landed the job of the local University’s did he find out that is not the case. Custodians  also have to replace light bulbs, paint and do dry wall repair, do minor electrical work, plumbing, replace ceiling tiles, strip and wax floors, carpet extracting, replace HVAC air filters, fix furniture, set-up for events, snow and ice removal, replace bad door locks, secure the building at night; the list goes on. Thankfully they didn’t expect him to do it all at once! 

Luckily he had gotten the job during the end of the Spring semester and was training during the Summer courses, which was much more manageable without the normal amount of young adults making a mess. This Fall semester had just started and Orville couldn’t believe the things he had to do in order to keep this place in order. Who raised these kids? Heathens? Bandits? It made him question himself when he was younger.

But it paid well, he got holidays off, no one paid attention to him, and he could honestly say that this was a much better experience than the past two years had been. The cart was fun to push around, too. 

Late nights were the best part of the day, when no one was around and he would just do his work without someone bothering him or hoards of kids getting out of class. It also meant that he could listen to music, plug his head phones in and just nod along as he mopped and took out the trash. It had taken him a few months to get use to being alone and feel safe there, and when no one came for him he deemed it the best part.

He made his way down the corridor, pushing the cart along with him to the next classroom. Only the mandatory lights were on, so when he entered the room he flipped at the switches on the wall next to the door. Half came on, but that was about as much as he needed. 

@heart-of-dunbroch

Artemis came back to Swynlake to a howling.

At first, she thought this howling was herself. She felt the whistling of the wind through the hole in her soul. It was painful, sharp, and cold. It left her weak and tired. It filled her with the blinding rage of every hero ever scorned by the Moirai. Artemis wanted to rip at the ground beneath her feet and dig until her fingers bled, until she punched through to the Underworld and could drag the Moirai out by their hair and demand they change it. 

She wanted to sink her teeth into their necks and tear out their jugulars like a wild beast. She wanted to suck the magic out of them, feel all the fates of the world disappear in an instant, plunging everything into the same chaos of her own soul. Which was still howling.

Though, not the howling she could hear.

That was the ghosts. They pressed back into her mind as she stepped into the mortal realm once more. The veil was thin as paper mache and behind it, the ghosts were wailing--though the sound was a mixture of laughter and mourning. It sounded like sirens, telling her what she wanted to hear:

You can find them.

We know where they are.

No we don’t, but we know who does.

“Who?” Artemis asked the empty air as she notched another arrow. 

The one who walks between worlds.

The King.

His Majesty, the small town Board member.

Hades, Hades, Hades, they chanted.

And so, it was to the Ambassador that she sought, her clothes still bloody, dried and cracking with every step. It was dusk and the little shop’s sign had just flipped to close. The door was not locked, however, and Artemis shouldered her way in, bow hanging strung and ready at her side.

“Artemis!” That was his little wife, the silly one whose power was only kindness. A weak and terrible power, if you asked Artemis. Her kindness, her soft heart had lead to all that Artemis raged against now. “What--what happened?” 

Another woman rounded the corner then. One that Artemis had never seen before, but sensed immediately. A werewolf. Good. Artemis was afraid of no beasts. Her head snapped towards the wolf. 

“Careful,” Belle cautioned, turning her head to her friend as well. Her voice was calm and precise. “She can take your magic from you.”