#original tale

Tags: Purple Prose, Gore, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Metaphors, Suffering, Whump, Tragedy, Despair, Hope vs. Despair, Hope, Nihilism, Depression, Anger, Mild Sexual Content, Drug Addiction, Drug Abuse, References to Drugs, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mental Anguish, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Pain, Pain Kink, not a fetish fic don't you dare come into this thinking that, Regret, Unhappy Ending, One Shot, Not Beta'd. Summary: What happens to a man carrying a heavy burden, cracking under pressure yet again, and finds nothing short of hell at the end of what was meant to be his gateway to heaven? Anger. Depression. Grief. And Madness. All at once.

Ao3 Link Here

I wake up gasping for air.

the room is dark, though it must be morning. a weak, colorless light presses itself against the curtains and fails to enter. rain has been falling for days, and I can hear it gathering in the broken mouth of the drainpipe outside.

not so fast as the water gathering in my tired eyes, though. countless tears have rolled down my temples way before the raindrops started dripping steadily onto the stone floor below.

she doesn’t love me.

Long ago, in a sea side kingdom, there was a sailor. He held no titles, and had no land. He worked in the day and into the night in order to afford his food. But his heart wept for nothing, as he had his love. The sea. Since he was a boy he held love for nothing but the sea and everything in it. He sails its waters every day without failing, always returning to his one true love.

And unbeknownst to the sailor, the sea felt the same. Under its water was a mermaid, a woman who’s beauty can only be described as ethereal. The ocean ran through her veins, and water filled her lungs. And each day, as the sailor came to the sea, and each day, as he confessed his love, and each day, as he sailed away knowing he’d return, the mermaid felt the same. Her heart belonged to him and nothing more.

Hey there! this is an project me and @misturearaposa (Mix) been working on and now is done ✨

Mix is the master mind behind this cozy and peculiar tale and i did the illustration of our main character.

Hope you enjoy 💖

Marsella’s office was a mess, as usual. Students’ essays and documents covered just about every surface of furniture. There was a wooden desk in front of the only window, illuminated half by the moonlight, half by an oil lamp that sat on top of it. One of the documents on top of this desk was an envelope with some writing in a dark green ink on it. It read “To the current Master at Ecological and Zoological Studies Regarding the Arcanum; Marsella Kampersois.” It clearly had been opened and most of the pages it previously contained were already being read by the professor. She brushed aside how tired she felt and tied her strawberry blonde hair behind her head so it would stop obscuring her reading. Marsella put the first page, which she had just finished glancing through, on the desk in front of her and continued on.

“Our guides are Onlen and Briannee, a local couple who live in a village just outside the Asheyran woods. Brianne is one of yours: Amantenese born and raised, but she moved here after her parents died and, eventually married Onlen. So I’m not that interested in her.”

A warm smile pushed through the exhaustion in Marsella’s face as she read that line. It was clear that her friend was still as blunt and socially “unique” as they were when she first met them.

“Mister Onlen himself, on the other hand, is fascinating! We always hear stories about how mysterious the Folkbound are but let me tell you Marsella: the stories do not do them justice! On our way to their village, we passed through a few Niamenese settlements, but none of them had Folkbound in them. So up until we met Onlen, the team and I had only seen the average person going about their day, not different in the slightest from you and me. I am sure you are curious, so I’ll just get it out of the way first: Yes, he does have them!”

Sketched just below this paragraph was what seemed to be a pair of human ears with pointy ends which slowly curled into something that resembled a short flower’s stalk.

“His canine teeth are also remarkably long and sharp, and his hair has a faint, but pleasant smell that I can’t quite describe. Brianne tells me he never takes baths, only cleans himself in the rain or under a nearby waterfall. He knows an awful lot about medicinal herbs and just plants’ properties in general. His behavior is certainly ‘normal’ most of the time, but sometimes he acts like a completely different person, with periodic mood changes to boot. Nothing too extreme, though.”

Marsella grasped the paper a bit more firmly and her eyes suddenly seemed completely devoid of the sleepiness they were presenting up until then. She saw briefly what the next paragraph started to describe and soon sat a bit more upright on her chair, excitement and curiosity taking over.

“As for his partner: we didn’t see it for more than two full days at first. He assured us it was around, but we never even got a hint of its presence. It wouldn’t be until we were finally preparing for our first deep foray into the woods that it showed itself. And what a sight it was! She was no more than 12 centimeters tall; her skin was a deep foliage green with some protuberances that resembled little thorns all over the legs, arms and back. She did not have wings per say, but instead a pair of cloak-like extensions from the back of her shoulders that resembled long and red silky petals. It was like looking at a walking rose. Her head, at least from the back and sides, also reminded me of a rose bud. I was never able to see her face, however, as she wore a tiny mask made of tree bark which was devoid of any distinct features or adornments. The first time we saw her was when the team was packing our provisions and Onlen came from the edge of the woods to check on us. She was sitting on his left shoulder, legs dangling in a cute, childish manner as he walked towards us. We were stunned, but Onlen never made any introductions or try to explain anything. He acted as if we had been seeing her the whole time. In fact, it was as if he thought we knew her our whole lives. As we made our way into the woods, he finally told us her name: Flian. Nothing more than that, however. None of us asked anything either. Mostly because it felt intrusive, but also because as much as no one on the team had personally seen one before, it isn’t like commons pixies are completely new and unknown in our field. As the time passed and we headed deeper into the woods, she would switch from riding on his shoulder to floating up from tree to rock and tree again, accompanying our pace from above. It’s quite a sight to behold. She really didn’t fly around exactly, it looked more like her little “petal cloak” was carried by a gentle breeze, allowing her to glide and float around. She also never made any sound. I don’t mean just vocalizations. Her movements, her breathing, nothing seemed to make any noise, even a small one.”

Marsella put the finished page on top of the desk and scribbled some notes on a journal that laid right beside the two pages she had finished. Before she could continue reading, however, she noticed that on a corner of the note she had just finished was a sketch of the pixie. She assumed she couldn’t see it before because it was being covered by her thumb and fingers as she held the paper. She took a good look at it and then continued on.

“Something that I noticed after a few hours is how, no matter what she was doing – whether it was floating around, walking on top of tree branches or splashing around in little puddles (still not making any sound while doing it.) She would ALWAYS land right back on Onlen’s shoulder whenever he and Brianne got closer, started whispering to each other, holding hands and so on. She’d always stay on the side of his body opposite to Brianne, though, and start grooming his hair, tapping his cheek and at one point I even saw her tickle his right ear after Brianne, to his left, almost tripped and supported herself on her husband. It didn’t seem to bother Onlen, however, as his reactions ranged from ignoring it to simply looking at her and making weird faces that I couldn’t interpret. At most he once turned to face the pixie and motioned a fake bite towards her, which made her jump off him for a second before landing right back again.”

Putting the papers aside for a moment, Marsella felt her exhaustion creeping in again. She pulled a bottle from one of the corners of the deks towards her and uncorked it. She looked around, searching for a cup amidst the mess of her office, and decided she could not be bothered to get up from her chair for a more thorough search. Bottoms up and she felt a warmth spread from her stomach to her chest and limbs, put the bottle on the desk again and though of sealing it with the cork again, before deciding to leave it open. She picked the papers again and continued to read.

“During our first night, our couple of guides told us a little bit about their lives, how they met, fell in love and all of that sappy stuff. I’ll spare you of that torture, something I wish someone could have done for me. Onlen did, however, sprinkle some interesting information here and there. His bonding with Flian happened when he was fourteen. A little late for the average Folkbound, as you know. Apparently he was a bit of a recluse as a kid and because of that it took him a little longer than most to actually find a Fae partner who’d actually bond with him. He said a year before he met Flian, he almost got bound to a lovely little toadstooler who used to cross his path now and again. But he tells me it bonded with a younger girl who lived close to him one day because she apparently gave it treats and sang to it. When he was telling this story - with a tinge of melancholic nostalgia in his face - I noticed Flian starting to look a bit agitated, fidgeting around on his shoulder. Brianne seemed to notice it too and her reaction fascinated me. She quickly flicked her husband’s forehead and made him change the subject or rather move on with his story. Her tone was playful, but I could see a hint of worry or apprehension in her face. Onlen told us that, eventually, he met a common pixie drowning in a pond and after rescuing her, she would visit him everyday until eventually, they were bound. The details aren’t uninteresting, but it was the known stuff for common pixies. They exchanged vows, she told him her name and she pricked his thumb on one of her thorns and it was done.”

Marsella made some more notes on her journal before taking another gulp from the bottle and continuing to read.

“The following morning we left the forest and the team made a quick trip to the nearest village to buy a few things. Briannee went with them and I stayed behind with Onlen. He did not speak for the whole day. In fact, I barely saw him save a couple of times. First when I was cooking a bit of soup a little after noon and he came out from his house, looked at me and my cooking pot as if he could not even begin to understand what I was doing, before going back inside. The second time was right before Briannee and my team were coming back. It was starting to get dark and I had barely noticed them coming into view on the road when I noticed Onlen sitting cross-legged on top of a boulder close to the entrance to the woods. Flian was in front of him, doing something. It was a bit far and the light was getting dim, so I couldn’t ascertain it, but it LOOKED like she was dancing. I had slept a bit after eating so I did not see when he left his house, no idea how long he was sitting there for. I got up from my napping spot and went to ask him what he was doing, but I was met with silence from him and a furious gaze from Flian. She still had her mask on, obviously, but I could tell because she stopped dancing abruptly and turned towards me with a fierce and almost violent movement. I felt as if I could see a pair of cold eyes staring at me even through the tiny bark mask. I subconsciously turned around and left, but as I walked away, I stole a quick glance back at them and noticed how Onlen had his eyes closed and a stiffness in his posture. After I made my way towards Briannee and the rest of my team, she must have noticed some confusion or curiosity betrayed on my face, because she immediately looked in the direction Onlen was and then back at me again. She started to explain it and as soon as I realized what she was telling me, I immediately grabbed her arm and dragged her as I ran back to the boulder again.”

Realization also dawned on Marsella as she read that last sentence and she quickly pulled her journal closer, preparing herself to make more notes as she read on, excitement inundating her mind.

“It was a scouting charm, apparently. I could not believe it. Sure, I had expected to see a genuine Folkbound spell at some point during the expedition, but to finally see it after studying and reading so much bout it, I could barely contain my excitement. Briannee explained that he was probably preparing it to scout the woods in search of a better path, since the previous day we didn’t see any signs or tracks. She also told us how it worked, or at least she tried her best to pass on what he had told her: As we know, common pixies can connect their senses remotely to many different species of flora in a certain radius. What we don’t usually hear about is how they can supposedly share this connection with their bond partners. This is what was happening, apparently. At that moment, Onlen’s mind - or more accurately, his senses - were jumping from flower to flower forest inwards, searching for a better direction for us to travel in the next day. When my team finally caught up to us, they also observed Onlen with me, making their annotations quietly after Briannee reprimanded us for the distraction when we were talking amongst ourselves and sharing insights. She went inside and we only followed after we finally felt like we had enough of observing that man sitting motionless on a rock and his little Fae companion dancing.”

“The following night we stopped and made camp after a whole day of walking through the woods. Onlen had been quiet, even more so than usual. We had, in fact, made our way towards a completely different direction from the previous day as he assured us that Flian helped him see that this trail would be more successful in finding what we were after. Speaking of Flian, she had a very different demeanor this time around. Instead of playing and floating around like the previous day, she had been tucked away inside Onlen’s clothes for almost the whole day. With all that in mind, when we finally had our little camp set up come night, I asked Onlen if there was anything we should worry about. He asked all of us in the research team how much we knew about the Fae. Honestly, I had expected this talk to have come much sooner, seeing how hard we had to search in order to find a Folkbound who would agree in guiding us for this expedition. Even when we found Onlen, a little over two months ago, we had to go through a lot to convince him. I told him we were no experts in Fae, specifically, but also assured him we were pretty competent researchers. After a few minutes of discussion, he still seemed apprehensive, but decided to give us a more in-depth lesson. Onlen explained how the Fae are usually regarded as two different categories or tribes. There are the ones with whom the Folkbound usually bond with, the ones they call The Seelie. On the other hand, there are those with whom no Niamenese should ever partner with. The Unseelie.”

For a second, Marsella fought back an urge to roll her eyes. Her friend knew she was aware of these classifications, so if the next paragraph was going to be a lengthy explanation about the grouping of “good” and “evil” Fae folk, she would have to remind herself to smack her good colleague the next time they saw each other. However, as her eyes glanced at the first few words of the next sentence, her frustration was quickly replaced with curiosity and she prepared herself to make more notes in her journal.

“Apparently the fools who published the studies on these classifications either did not pay a lot of attention or they simply were not smart enough to understand. As Onlen explained it, the Seelie and Unseelie tribes - or courts, as the Niamenese usually refer to them - do not, in the slightest, depict the moral standings of their members. It is not as simple as ‘good faeries’ vs ‘evil faeries.’ According to him, a faerie of the Seelie court can very well be evil and cruel, SPECIALLY when partnered with a morally contentious human, as they are as much susceptible to their partner’s influence as their partner is to theirs. What sets an Unseelie faerie apart from a Seelie one, then, is the kind of bond they form with their partner. You see, Marsella, as we learned very recently, a faerie can bond itself to any species of living creature, it doesn’t need to be a human. In fact, it is more common for other animals and even plants to be bonded to Fae folk than for humans. However, no matter what kind of creature is bound to them, there is ALWAYS a component of trust and consent or respect and care, in the case of plant life. A Seelie faerie will never forcefully bond with an unwilling creature or do so with ill intent. That’s where Unseelie Fae come in. As Onlen put it, the Unseelie will almost always bond with an unwilling partner, be it to exploit them, consume them, corrupt them, you name it. They disregard a rule or instinct that all faeries should acknowledge and respect. He explained to us that there ARE some faeries who don’t force themselves upon their partners and, when bound, don’t exactly act to harm them, but are still considered part of the Unseelie court because of another crucial taboo that they violate: The ‘rule of attachment’ or ‘rule of the veil’, as Onlen described it.”

Marsella placed the finished page on the desk and quickly began reading the next. She no longer felt like she needed another drink to stay awake. Her attention to the letter was unwavering now.

“When you, as a Niamenese, willingly make a pact with one of these types of Fae, you are immediately ostracized. Depending on the specific species, you may be exiled, imprisoned for life, or even hunted down and executed. No other Folkbound will ever accept you as one of their own. And this ‘rule of attachment’ or ‘rule of the veil’ is the reason. He explained that in a ‘normal’ bond, whenever one of the partners dies, the other has to accept, mourn and never bond itself to another. That usually addresses the faeries, since they live much longer than their human or animal partners. But if in any circumstance, a Folkbound were to lose their faerie partner, they have to adhere to this as well. What the Unseelie Fae usually do, however, is disregard this rule. It varies from species to species and how powerful they each are, but it can range from a Fae keeping the corpse of their partner as a cadaver host from keeping them alive in wrong and wicked ways, with some of the most powerful ones even bringing them back to life entirely. Some of them may not have the power for any of that, but they still violate the taboo by bonding with new partners after their previous one died. It started to occur to me, as I’m sure it is occurring to you now, where the problem in this expedition lied, in the eyes of the Niamenese.”

As her friend correctly deduced, the realization indeed hit Marsella and she let herself melt onto her chair. She felt the shock of new information reshaping her views and shedding new light on their whole topic of research: This wasn’t just foolish and dangerous in the eyes of their local guides. It was a matter of searching for a creature who defiled their beliefs and way of life. She straightened herself and pushed through her conflicted thoughts before continuing to read.

“As we talked more through the night, Onlen finally addressed the reason why he agreed to guide us in looking for our research subject. He wasn’t doing it to educate other people about their culture and the ways of the Fae. He said Flian was actually the one who told him he should accept it just for the small chance that ‘the outlanders might help find a way to understand and correct that dark and sad side of her people.’ As he told us that, I noticed how Flian was standing on the ground between him and I, the light from the campfire illuminating her in a way from an angle that made me unable to see the front of her head. I must admit that hearing that this tiny, almost otherworldly creature was the one who pleaded with Onlen and reached out for us was a bit unnerving to me. And judging from the fact that the whole team had difficulty sleeping that night, I’d say it was unnerving to them too.”

Below this paragraph, Marsella saw a drawing of the pixie as her friend had described above: A sketch of the faerie’s head looking up directly at them but with the whole “face” - or bark mask, in this case - shadowed by a source of light behind her. She felt a sudden chill permeate her and quickly moved on.

“The next morning was uneventful, the whole team clearly was still a little shaken up by Onlen’s words from the previous night. We kept walking in the direction he had scouted with his Folkbound charm two nights earlier. Briannee made us a quick lunch at noon - or what we supposed was noon, it was very hard to tell so deep into those woods - and we kept going without stopping for as long as we had light. As the day went on and the little glimpses of sky we could through the canopy would get rarer, we started noticing a cold mist settling all around us. Or to be honest, we noticed it after we were completely surrounded by it. It wasn’t thick enough to completely obscure our visions and it mostly stayed low, at most reaching 10 to 15 centimeters high. But it certainly felt like a sea of cold smoke extending to every direction. Everywhere we looked, there were two certainties: giant, old and shriveled trees and thick and white mist on the ground stretching for as long as our eyes could see. We kept marching on for another hour or so and by the end of that time, only torches and lamps lit our way. At one point, one of the team members stepped on something and as he reached down to see what it was, we were all a little unsettled. A human skull, looking like it had belonged to a young child, was resting on his open palm. Onlen shouted something in Niamenese and quickly ran from his side to stand closer to us in the research team. We felt a tension in the air, but I believe it only really dawned on us that something was amiss when we saw Flian float out from her little refuge in Onlen’s clothes and start moving erratically through the air around him. She would float in one direction, point at something that we couldn’t see, float in another direction and point that way. When I asked Briannee what was wrong, she only said that ‘we had found them’.”

Marsella’s eyes opened wide as she put the finished page down and immediately saw what started the next one. Before the first paragraph in this new page, a new sketch greeted her. A human skeleton partially covered by moss and dead leaves, stared her down through the page. On its head - skull - a long and dark crimson cap hung to the side. Covering the left eye socket. From the skeleton’s torso, a squiggly arrow sketched pointed to the writing “host?”, while from the skull, another arrow jotted out with the tip pointing to the word “subject?”.

“From the ground, previously concealed by the thick mist, three fully grown human skeletons rose. We had indeed found them. After months of research, travel and local convincing, we had finally stumbled upon our subjects. I was so excited that I momentarily ignored the danger of the situation, even as I heard my team screaming in surprise. Briannee yelled for me to stop and only then did I realize I was walking towards the creatures. Onlen was a few meters in front of us, between the subjects and I. I saw him run towards them with Flian floating away in the same direction, but as one of the skeletons made an erratic swipe of its arms to presumably try and grab him, Onlen stepped aside and ran past it. He kept running away from our group and all three of them turned around and started chasing him and his faerie companion. Their movements, for the brief moment I was able to see before they were all gone in the darkness of the forest, was unnerving. It felt wrong, as if all the bones were being dragged around by some invisible puppeteer. We all stood there with bated breath as Briannee told us to watch our surroundings and make sure no other skeleton arose around us. My heart was racing and my thoughts were running wild as I took out my sketchbook and subconsciously started drawing right there on the spot, standing up and having only the faint light of my lamp to help me see the result. Before I even finished, we heard Onlen returning from the shadows and Briannee ran to check on him. That took me out of my trance and I immediately asked him where the subjects were. He said he got rid of them and before I could even protest it, he tossed something my way. Only after I caught it, despite my surprise, did I notice it was a burlap sac with its ‘mouth’ tied in a knot. After feeling it around a bit, I noticed a faint movement coming from within. Onlen told me my ‘target’ was inside and that I was not allowed to open it until after I left Niamenese lands. I thought of protesting that, as well, my curiosity clouding my judgment, but one look at his face, illuminated in a somber way by the faint lamp lights, made me reconsider it. After carefully analyzing his expression I also noticed Flian standing completely straight on top of his right shoulder. Her petal cloak was wrapped around her, covering her arms and most of her torso, instead of hanging behind her like usual, it gave her a resolute and unpleasant atmosphere.”

Marsella once again felt a sudden chill and fought the urge to check if her window was open. It wasn’t, it never was and she knew it. She put down the newly finished page on the desk and went back to reading.

“The whole way back to the entrance of the woods was filled with a strange tension. No, it would be more accurate to say there were three tensions in the air, competing to see which one would make the group crack first. One was the tension that team and I constantly felt since Onlen handed me that sac. The pressure we fought hard to keep in check, the NEED to open it and immediately start our long awaited research. To think our object of study was there in our possession, but we were not allowed to study it was almost killing all of us. The second tension was the total silence tha Onlen immersed himself in since he told me not to open the sac. His steps, his breathing, his occasional whispers to his wife. None seemed to make a sound, but at the same time, it was a silence that felt heavy in our eardrums. It was almost as if he exuded an aura of stillness around him that pushed outward from him and collided with us in its way. Flian, of course, also seemed closed and distant. Even from Onlen himself. Despite riding on his shoulder the entire way back, she did not play around with her Folkbound at any time. Briannee did all of the talking with us during the trip back out of the forest, but even she sounded quiet and drained. Then, there was the third tension… This one, I suspect, was only felt by me. It was a strange mix of almost palpable feelings coming from within the sac. I could feel the subject’s fear, curiosity, and loneliness. At one point, I could swear I heard something like a faint voice coming from it and I had to fight really hard to keep myself from opening the burlap sac. When we finally exited the woods and arrived at their home, two full days after our encounter in the mist, Briannee quickly helped us pack while Onlen disappeared in the direction of a little stream which ran down from the nearby waterfall where he usually bathes, as his wife told us days earlier. She made it clear that he would not be coming back to see us off and that she would, in fact, like us to depart as soon as possible so that she could go and join him. I should also point out that as we exited the forest, I noticed that Flian was no longer riding on Onlen’s shoulder. No one in my team seemed to notice when she left or where she went, so we just left it at that. Despite our exhaustion, we respected Briannee’s wishes and departed as soon as our travel preparations were finished. We traveled for almost four more days before finally officially being out of Niamenese lands and one full morning on top of that to reach the first Amantenese settlement. By this point, the team and I had already grown used to the urge of opening the sac, so we refrained from doing so immediately upon arriving in Amanten. We decided we were all too tired and we’d wait until after we rested at an inn before digging into our research.

That night, however, I felt that third tension from the track back from the woods pulsing in my ears again. As I lied in the bed of my room in the roadside inn we came across, I looked at the sac resting on top of the little bedside desk. I got up, opened it and let its contents slide onto said desk. An adult human skull covered in dirt and riddled with little cracks in the bone stared at me, devoid of any life. On its side, spread onto the desk like a soft fabric, the long and crimsong little hood or cap that adorned it before. As I started to reach for it, I saw movement. Subtle, slow, weak. What I thought to be a dark red fabric revealed itself to be a sort of amorphous, living substance and from the borders of what would be the opening of the cap, parts of the ‘cap’ started to stretch out towards the skull like little tentacles. It latched itself to the bone and moved until it was ‘upward’ and close to my face. Suddenly, a pair of black beads showed themselves. Little dark eyes looking at me with intense curiosity and longing. There it was, finally! The creature I had waited so long to meet. Seeing it up close and harkening back to Onlen’s explanation of the Unseelie Fae, I immediately understood its common name. This was never a deceased human who came back to hunt the living in violent revenge.

No… this was a fragile, desperate creature who clung to its deceased host/bound partner even after their demise. Manipulating its animated corpse and feeding on its clotting blood as it deteriorated and nothing but bones remained. Bones and a little, bloody Red Cap.”

Marsella put the last page down on the desk and noticed she had been staring at her journal for quite some time, pen in hand, but nothing came to mind. She opened one of the desk’s drawers and pulled a sheet of paper more proper for a letter and started to write a reply. In her excitement, she failed to notice she did not read the final sentence in her colleague’s message.

“It was speaking to me, Marsella. It was scared and starving and I felt for it. I hope you understand.

Figured I should post at least SOME fully original content while starting this blog. This is one of my favorite short works I’ve done.

BUT. I like my idea and I wanna try to write more of it, so I figured I should put what I have of it out there.

I’ve got more stuff bouncing around in my head in regard to this idea, I just… need to write it down lol

(Would anyone be interested in reading more of this, even if I can’t turn it into a comic or animated series like I envisioned?)