#p:inge

Something had changed between Anita and her. Or, at least, Inge assumed it had. If there was an occurrence to change a casual friendship (with added benefits), it would be saving someone’s life from hypothermia while they were a ginormous snake. It wasn’t an unwelcome change, though. There was something nice about the deepening of this particular relationship.

So they were passing through the woods near Anita’s home, hiking the way humans might and divulging in the latest rumors. Perhaps not much had changed after all. “This Max —” She bristled still, at the sound of that banshee’s name, but she sounded amused too, “She looked like a freshman and thought she’d kill me. It was … almost endearing, you know? Like an angry toddler.” She scrunched her face up in demonstration.

When the pair turned a corner Inge’s eyes fell on an unusual sight. Which was, of course, quite usual in a town like Wicked’s Rest. Things didn’t tend to be usual. There was a great chance the trees were watching them and there was some kind of fae monster lurking in their branches — and she liked that. But this was something else. This caught her attention like nothing else. “Is that … an egg?”

_ 

Metzli and Cass, they had both seemed to want to talk about the occurrence this past winter in the woods. It wasn’t that Anita didn’t like talking about it (to a certain extent) but it did make her feel her own mortality more than she would like. She wasn’t like Metzli, or Leila, or Inge for that matter. She wasn’t immortal. But Inge hadn’t brought it up much, not explicitly. Anita could tell that things had shifted between the pair, however. They spent more time together neither at work nor naked (though they still did both of those things), and it was really quite enjoyable. 

“I’ve gotta admit, as annoying as that Max sounds, I’m kind of glad to hear I wasn’t the only one up to my ears in banshee bullshit.” Anita had told her a fair bit of what had gone on in Ireland but not quite everything. There were certain things that didn’t feel like her palace to tell. Was this growth? Like that meme from that HBO show? 

Anita was so caught up in her moment of self congratulations that she hadn’t really noticed anything strange until she heard the question, and she instinctively began to answer it before she even laid her eyes on the thing, “It wouldn’t be uncommon, this is prime bird egg laying season honestly…” she trailed off as her eyes landed on the egg in question and quickly corrected herself. “Okay, that didn’t come from any normal bird.” Almost immediately, she took a few steps closer to get a better look at the thing. 

_ 

Though her confrontation with Max had irked her, it would serve to be a story worth repeating down the line. Inge hadn’t encountered a lot of banshees in her days, after all, and it was somehow refreshing that it hadn’t been a slayer (or other type of hunter) who’d wanted to kill her for once. She would very much prefer it if no one wanted to kill her, but to get hung up on wanting such things was childish. 

“Banshee bullshit,” she repeated, “That rolls off the tongue nicely. I am still a little offended that Siobhan didn’t think to invite me, you know. I thought we had something special.” She wasn’t sure if she would have gone. She hated Siobhan. She was glad Siobhan was back, though, but only because all their other colleagues – save Anita – were dull and incapable of challenging her. “With Dolan back we’ll have plenty of banshee bullshit to come, though, but just her brand.” She hated her so much, which was why there was a hint of fondness in her voice.

There was not a lot of time to overthink her feelings about the banshee who’d left her on a wall, though. The egg was taking up most of her headspace. It smelled … strange. Earthy and musky, like a perfume she might have whiffed off someone else. Was Anita wearing a different scent? She followed the other, stepping closer to the egg. “It’s beautiful.” A branch snapped and she whipped around as if scared something would come hurt the egg. “It’s … it’s all alone, out in the open … that’s bad parenting.” 

_ 

It was no secret that Inge and Siobhan were not exactly fond of one another. But they were without a doubt Anita’s most enjoyable co-workers. While that wasn't necessarily because they were her only known non-human co-workers it certainly didn’t hurt. Though there was something about the organic chemistry professor that gave distinctly non-human energy, Anita had yet to crack that case yet. “I’m sure there will be all kinds of new and exciting bullshit to deal with when the new semester starts, banshee bullshit and others.” 

Despite being a reptile, Anita was never actually an egg herself. Rattlesnakes, like a few other species of snakes, give live birth to their young. She felt much more kinship, however, to species who laid eggs than those who didn’t. “Very bad parenting…” she repeated in agreement as she carefully looked around, wondering if there was any sign of the mother nearby. All that she saw around them was open forest and a few large predator birds flying overhead. Anita knew these woods - they were not kind. 

The smell of the egg was so distinct that, and at first, Anita was worried it was rotten. Abandoned by a mother who perhaps knew it was never going to hatch. As she moved close towards it the egg seemed to shift. “It’s hardly even in a proper nest. I wonder if its mother was eaten by something out here. Or, maybe it got separated from her somehow.” Nobody had ever accused Anita of having a maternal instinct before, but all she wanted to do was scoop this egg up and find a nice warm incubator for it. She looked over at Inge, about to say something when the egg seemed to move again. “Whatever kind of egg this is, that little guy is a fighter. I don’t want to leave it out here unprotected but I’m worried trying to move it might hurt it.” 

_ 

Inge had never thought much of eggs. Eggs were simply food — they were part of Sunday breakfast when she’d been a mortal, boiled at the exact right level of hardness for Hendrik. They went into her quiches and the sweet things she baked. She’d had chickens, with her once-husband — a trio of clucking hens that he’d gotten from the farm he worked at. She’d search for their eggs each morning and sometimes they were warm to the touch, and she incorporated them in food or gave them to her parents.

But those eggs? What did those eggs matter? Those small, insignificant chicken eggs, that were naturally overshadowed by the egg in front of her. Now this was an egg. This egg had something to achieve besides being cracked above a bowl or boiled in water. Inge moved closer, its scent working itself into her nostrils and finding its home there. “Who would do such a thing … to leave an egg so beautiful? A child so innocent, so in need of protecting …” 

She swallowed thickly, wondering if Anita was right. Maybe its mother had died. Her mind trailed off for a moment, thinking about how she had died when her daughter had been young — but then it was quickly pulled back to the egg. She was able to lift her gaze from the egg after a moment to look at Anita. “We — well, it’s clear, isn’t it? We cannot abandon it in the wild like this.” She crouched down, placed a hand on the shell. It was warm. “It’s a fighter, and it should be looked after. And we’re … well, the perfect pair, aren’t we?” She could look over the darling egg from the astral at night and Anita was a fierce protector. “It’s beautiful, truly.”

_ 

It was reassuring that Inge seemed to feel the same way as Anita about this egg. Maybe that should have been concerning, but all she felt was relief in knowing that the two of them wanted to protect this precious egg together. Thinking of how Inge had helped her out of that dicey situation this past winter, getting help, keeping her alive  -  Anita nodded genuinely at the question, “Yes. We are the perfect pair.” Her attention quickly returned to the egg, as Anita took her phone out to take a few photographs of it. It was so beautiful and she had never seen anything like it before. It was like she suddenly understood why parents posted so many photos of their children online. 

“You’re very lucky we found you, sweet egg,” Anita said softly, “if humans had come across you they probably would have tried to make an omelet out of you. Humans are quite awful.” Just then the egg twitched again, or rather, the creature inside of the egg twitched. Anita grinned, “I think they agree.”  The egg didn’t stop twitching though. “Do you think it’s about to…” she trailed off slightly, almost astonished at how fantastic their timing seemed to be. The smell seemed to be getting a bit stronger and Anita frowned a bit as she looked at the “nest” that this little babe was laying in. “We need something softer for it, if it’s going to hatch here. I have some clothes in my bag,” she said as she took her backpack off. A lamia, or any smart shifter, never left home without a change of clothes on them. 

_ 

She had shed any maternal instinct like Anita had shed her skin, had thought herself rid of it now that her adult daughter had been dead and buried for over a decade. It had never fit her well anyway, that role. She had made a better aunt to her nieces and nephews, made a better mentor than a mother. But today, here and now, Inge knew suddenly that she had been an absolute fool to try and rid herself of this duty. She was a mother, and she needed to use her maternal skills to take care of this abandoned babe, this poor, lost little soul. She would nurture it. It was the very thing she was born for.

She nodded, “You are so very lucky. We understand you.” The egg was twitching and Inge looked at it with interest, but also with worry. It was beautiful, it was doing so good — “It might be,” she said. “But you’re right, this is no place to come to earth.” She had no extra clothes on her, and just wore what she was wearing. It wasn’t like temperatures bothered her much any more. She still worked on undoing her jacket and then the top she was wearing, standing only in her bra. It didn’t matter — the egg needed the softness. “We’ll take care of you.” She started to surround it with her own clothes, then looked at Anita. “I have nowhere I need to be.” She had multiple appointments, but she could forgo those. She already had.

_ 

Anita had seen many creatures be born. She had even seen many eggs hatch, incubated many of the snakes that lived at home with her. But never had she felt so immediately protective of an unknown creature before. As she bundled up the t-shirt and leggings that she had pulled from her bag she was so caught up in making sure that whatever was about to hatch from this egg had a soft landing spot that she hardly even made note of Inge’s half-undressed state. Hardly, she was a true MILF now but she wasn’t blind. “Classes are out for the summer, I don’t have anywhere I need to be for quite some time.” 

It was mostly true. People would worry if she disappeared for a while, wouldn’t they? Metzli would. At least a person would worry. But Anita had worries of her own to consider, worries about this precious life that she and Inge were about to foster into the world. More movement was coming from the egg now and far more rapidly until eventually, finally, the first small crack in its shell occurred. “Oh!” Anita said with a wide grin, looking over at her newfound partner in all of this. “That was impressive. A little fighter in there. She’ll fit right in with you and I.” She said with a playful nudge, the smile never leaving her face as she scanned the forest around them, making sure there were no outside threats incoming. 

_ 

All the worries she’d been occupied with were melting away, replaced with the nurturing care she felt for the sweet egg. The only way she could be made to think of those concerns was in the context of that egg — what if her demons were to catch up not only with her, but with this darling thing, too? Inge crouched down at the egg, nodding at what Anita was saying, “Same here. And whatever I do have, I can set aside. This is … oh, egg. No appointments matter in the face of you, I think.” 

Her eyes met Anita’s at the same time, a kind of glee shared between the pair that was new. She may have brought life into this world before, but this was different — this was done without her body tearing open, without her sweat and tears. And Anita was a better partner, was she not, than Hendrik had ever been in parenthood? Because Inge did recognize what was happening for what it was — a parental instinct, a need to take a young thing under her wing. “Very impressive,” she said, putting an arm around Anita as she pulled her towards her and looked at the egg. Its shell broke a little more and a round head poked out. “Oh …” Her eyes shone, her hand pressed against her mouth. “Oh — she’s … a beauty, Neets.”

_ 

Anita was no stranger to the feeling of intoxication. She often lived her life seeking it out, in fact. Not just in the form of her favored tequila but in the intoxication that could be found through an array of thrilling activities. Each type of intoxication, that brought on by killing, by lust, by adventure, by defiance, were all unique. As she was crouched down beside Inge as this sweet darling egg began to hatch Anita felt an intoxication unlike any she had experienced before. With Inge’s arm wrapped around her, there was a feeling of security as the beautiful babe shed its literal shell to be welcomed into the world protected by the two women. “Si… she really is.” Her eyes darted between the mare and the egg, equally intoxicated by how the creature was hatching and Inge’s reaction to it. “ Just like her mami’s,” Anita beamed. Practically, scientifically, Anita knew that there was no genetic relation between them and their egg but that didn’t stop the swell of pride she felt. 

The creature, their sweet egg hatchling, didn’t look reptilian. It wasn’t really a surprise to Anita since the egg itself hadn’t seemed particularly reptilian. While it would have been incredible to stumble upon a lamia egg in the wild she knew that wasn’t what had happened. She mirrored Inge’s gesture, and wrapped her own arm around her, as she used her other hand to take a few pictures (and maybe a video or two) of the egg’s hatching. “I’m glad we found her together,” she said, resting her head on Inge’s shoulder as she put her phone away to admire the egg more without the distraction of the screen. “It’ll be nice figuring all of this stuff out together, how to take care of another person. A very small vulnerable person at that.” 

_ 

Anita said what Inge felt. She bestowed the title of mother on both of them and the mare did not shy away from it this time, did not consider all the anguish and trouble that came with that part of her identity. Why would she ever denounce motherhood, after all? Why had she ever despised this feeling of responsibility? As she looked down on the egg, she knew she would give anything and all for it. “Just like her mums indeed,” she said, cocking her head to the side so she could see her hatchling child from a different angle. “Please share those pictures with me. We’ll have to take many — infants grow so very fast.” She leaned her own head against Anita’s, hand rubbing small circles on the other’s shoulder.

She nodded at her words. Her mind ventured to Vera once more, for a moment, and when she had been an infant. The nappies and the breastfeeding and the sweet smell of her and her laughter — all of it seemed to pale in comparison to her new child. Perhaps this was what she’d needed, as a mother: a different child. “I’ll teach you,” she said, “How to be a mother.” Anita didn’t know of her late daughter, but Inge didn’t remember why it should be something kept quiet. It was important they were honest with each other, for the wellbeing of their child. “I’ve done it before. It’s hard work, but for her? It’s all more than worth it, don’t you think? We —” She sighed. “Will be amazing parents.”

_ 

A symphony of questions flooded Anita’s mind at the unexpected admission that Inge had done this, motherhood, before. It hadn’t even been something that she had considered a possibility, despite knowing the other had been alive far longer than she had. Sometimes she forgot that people existed outside the context in which she knew them. There wasn’t time to dive into all of the questions she had about this past child of Inge’s though, because the child in front of them kept working so diligently to break away pieces of its shell. “I’m glad to have you as a teacher.” 

It wasn’t right. Anita had been hurt, and any reasonable individual would’ve been motivated by panic and stress, guided toward their loved one with such a force that everything stormed out of their path. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for Metzli, who had to usually rely on logic above all else to mimic love. They didn’t know how to feel or what to do or how to process, but they had a location and a place to be, so they drove. And somehow, they’d done so calmly, even if they were going twenty over the speed limit. 

By the time Metzli arrived, there was not much they could recall from between their walk from the car and their knock at the door. Nothing else mattered except getting to Anita. They just wished they could have made the moment sweeter with a warm drink or a filling pastry, but that was something they could do another time. Their focus diverted completely to their sister. 

“Where was she found?” They rushed inside with a curt nod at whatever invitation they were given, not paying much mind to Inge so they could lay their eyes on proof that Anita was alive. It wasn’t as if she or Inge had any reason to lie. As far as Metzli was concerned, they both had their trust, and had given no grounds for them to not take her at her word. But between someone who thought themself a sibling, and the person they saw as their family, nothing else mattered more than reaching them. 

With utmost care, Metzli opened the door and reached Anita in a blink, hovering a hand over her hair. She looked tired and worse for wear, but she was warm and breathing, resting soundly in clothing that looked much too big now. Metzli thought perhaps their mind was playing tricks on them, which would be no surprise. Panic had a way of altering a mind.

Metzli retracted their hand and backed away slowly. “I am here.” They kept their voice quiet, waiting for Anita’s approval to get closer. Their touch would do her no good, considering their lack of body heat, but they still held onto hope that they could offer some sort of physical affection she usually claimed she didn’t need. It wasn’t uncommon for Metzli to find her cuddling up with Fluffy or leaning into their touch. As much as Metzli wanted to, they never picked on her for it, and they especially wouldn’t right then. Not in front of Cass or Inge. 

It was important that Metzli find out what was going on as soon as possible. Cass could only imagine the worry they must have felt when Anita didn’t come home. Were they looking for her? Were they scouring the woods, were they searching? She couldn’t imagine they’d be doing anything else, not if they had any inkling that something was wrong. Metzli was proactive, was dedicated, was loyal. And they loved Anita, Cass had seen it. If they knew Anita was hurt, they’d be worried. So they needed to find out right away.

She figured it would be better for Anita to text them, maintained her position practically curled around the lamia as she did so. She kept up that warm-but-not-too-hot temperature, gradually warming herself a little more to make sure Anita got the heat she needed without being too hot. She tried making awkward small talk with Inge at first, but she got the feeling neither of them really wanted that, so she gave it up after a few minutes. 

And, when Metzli finally arrived and entered the room, she let the relief wash over her all at once. 

She wondered, somewhat absently, if Metzli would display the same desperation if it were her in Anita’s position. She felt guilty for wondering it — Anita was hurt, and this should be about her — but her mind went there all the same. Cass was so used to being an afterthought and, in this moment, Anita was clearly anything but. She thought back to Alex, after she was hurt, to the way she would have done anything to get her out of Rhett’s cruel grasp. Hadn’t it been intoxicating, being the center of someone’s world? Even if only for a moment, even when it was over now? Hadn’t it felt good?

“She’s getting warmer,” she spoke up almost tentatively, like she was no longer sure of her place in this room. Neither Inge nor Metzli had the body heat to warm Anita, so Cass was necessary. She liked being necessary. It meant no one could make her go. “I think it’ll be a while longer before she’s… back to full strength.”

—

They had been at Inge’s place for a little while before Anita had the strength to even send Metzli a message about what had happened. And of course since she didn’t even have her own phone with her she had to rely on using someone else’s to even send the message. It felt like this was becoming a habit, needing help from others, and it made her feel uneasy. As much as she wanted to tell everyone to leave, not because she didn’t want them there but because she felt that her debt to them was growing with each passing second. Debt she didn’t know how to repay. 

Just before Metzli arrived, Anita had finally felt warm enough to shift back. While most things in life were aided by being an incredibly large rattlesnake, trying to get warm was certainly not on that list. “I’m gonna get smaller,” she said to Cass so as not to startle the woman wielding that much heat near her skin, “It’ll make it quicker. Warmer blood and whatever.” It took more effort than she was used to but the scales that spread across her body were slowly replaced with soft pink flesh, allowing her to curl up into herself and get herself under the aluminum blanket that the tall stranger had given her. 

When she heard Metzli’s voice there was a simultaneous relief and guilt that panged through Anita. She didn’t want to worry anyone… she didn’t mean to worry anyone. There had been nights, plenty of nights, that she didn’t make it home. She usually let them know that was going to be the case though, when she remembered to. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she offered up. Normally the lamia adored being the center of attention - she thrived on it - but this type of attention, this type of care, felt so foreign to her. She didn’t know how to handle it all. 

“I just need to get warm. I already healed the wound.” Nodding towards Cass, Anita agreed, “Will be a while, for sure.” Even if her body got warmed up Anita wondered how long the exhaustion she was feeling would last. “I’ve never… I don’t know anyone who’s ever… guess this is why my father wanted me to stay in the desert.” 

_ 

She couldn’t recall the last time she’d turned on the heating in her cold apartment, but she had it blasting now. Inge could host, at the very least — it was one of the skills she’d taken with her from her former life. She could fret a little, offer whatever comforts Anita needed while waiting for her to warm up again. In a way, it was good to be on the other side of this: to help rather than to need to be helped. 

And though her body ached from all the walking, she got up and moved towards the door all the same when the doorbell rang. Her eyes locked with Metzli, she offered the, “Come in,” required for a vampire and let them burst in. She followed, pushing through as she tried to keep up their pace. “In the Pines. I was astral hopping and I saw her and got help.” This was the second time in a long time where Inge was confronted with the fact that she was limited, that in some cases she was powerless. She had none of the superior healing her vampire brethren had, nor the strength. Not even the bodily warmth to assist Anita. And even though she’d manage to help Anita, she despised the feeling.

She followed Metzli, no longer bothering to keep up with their vampiric speed and leaned on a chair in the living room. What a strange combination of people, two of whom she’d only met rather recently and in very different settings. Inge didn’t question it. Life was spontaneous. And pain connected, that too she knew. 

A small smile for Cass. Ariadne’s friend, she assumed. The one she’d asked her not to give nightmares. “Good.” She moved around the chair, sat on its edge, close to the gathering of people in her living room. So filled with life. She found it confusing. “You can stay as long as you need to, you know that.” Not often did she open her doors like that for people, and it wasn’t like Anita and her were as tightly entwined as she perhaps was with Metzli or even Cass — but still. Inge wasn’t going to kick her friend out. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “It’s … you’re here now, hm? Just focus on getting warmer.” 

“Ay, mi hermosa.” Metzli leaned forward and planted an affectionate kiss to Cass’s head, fully trusting that if she was in contact with Anita, then it was safe to do so. Besides, they couldn’t help themself when the person they saw like kin was making them proud. She truly was a hero, and Metzli wholeheartedly believed that’s what she was meant to be. They smiled, “Thank you for helping her.” They didn’t care if Cass would bind them, and some part of them knew she wouldn’t. Regardless, it felt important to express their gratitude, and they turned to regard Inge, who they could see through the doorway to the living room. “And thank you as well, Inge. I…” Tears brimmed their eyes, a few daring to streak down their cheeks as they returned to Anita’s side and sat.

Metzli sniffled and cleared their throat immediately, trying not to feel too embarrassed. Anita likely didn’t have the energy to tease them, but they hoped she might. Anything to further cement that she was still there, and what Metzli was seeing wasn’t just a figment. It was asinine, really. They knew that. So, carefully, they reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Anita’s head for a few moments. They smiled warmly and retracted it before they could undo any of Cass’s hard work. Anita was real. Anita was real and even if Metzli had failed in finding her, she was alive and able to recover. 

“I looked for you. Was very scared you were hurt and I am very sorry I could not find you.” The possibility (and really, the inevitability) of Anita dying became far too real, and it choked them. It formed  a ball of some sort and it lodged itself in Metzli’s throat. Their leg began to bounce as discomfort overtook them, but they took a grounding breath to keep their emotions at bay as best they could. Some emotion was okay, but they didn’t want to overwhelm Anita or overtake the attention she needed. Instead, they breathed once more, offering Anita their hand, palm facing up. 

“I will be here until you can come home then. Whatever you need, hermana. Like Inge say, focus on getting warmer. We will help.”

A warmth that had nothing to do with the magma flowing through her veins filled her chest as Metzli addressed her, and she offered them the smallest of smiles. When they’d first found Anita in the woods, trailing behind Otis and Inge like a lost dog, there had been so much desperation. She’d been so afraid, so uneasy. If anything happened to Anita, she’d thought, and Cass didn’t prevent it from doing so, she was sure Metzli wouldn’t forgive her for it. She was good so long as she was useful, and she’d been useful tonight. She’d used the destructive force of her volcanic nature for something decent, for warmth instead of ruination. 

Metzli thanked her, and Cass disregarded it with a shrug. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy I could help.” She looked down at Anita with a small smile. “Everybody deserves somebody to help them, right?” It was something Cass desperately wanted, needed to be true. If Anita deserved salvation, if everyone did, didn’t she get to be included in that, too? 

She flashed Inge a grateful smile as the mare said they could all stay as long as they needed to. It was funny — she hadn’t liked Inge much at the beginning of all this, but she was grateful for her now. Offering her home not just to Anita, but also to Cass, who she probably still hated, was a pretty heroic thing to do. And Cass would know; she was a superhero.

“So, um…” She shifted her weight a little, repositioning Anita slightly so that they both could be a little more comfortable. “Anybody have any Uno cards?”

—

As much as Anita adored being the center of attention in normal circumstances, these were not normal circumstances. This collection of people surrounding her, from different aspects of her life, all coming together to help her out was not a dynamic she knew how to navigate. But they didn’t seem upset or annoyed, at least not visibly, at needing to tend to the weakened lamia. That felt surprising to her, mostly. Metzli’s reaction, their support, was expected. But the other two, that felt surprising. Not because of who they are or because of anything they had done but simply because having people around to support her was such a foreign feeling at this stage in her life. 

The idea of her absence causing Metzli to go out and search for her, knowing that she caused them any amount of fear, only added to the guilt that was cursing her. How many nights had she not come home in the past without letting them know? Did it always spark such a reaction? That wasn’t a question she really wanted an answer to. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have … been out there like that.” She reached out and placed her hand in theirs, keeping it there despite the cold. 

She turned her attention towards Cass, who was doing the work of a dozen heat lamps all by herself. “Is this tiring for you?” For all that Anita knew, whatever Cass was, and whatever powers she had, were foreign to her. “Don’t think I’ve played Uno since… college, maybe?” She didn’t wanna make presumptions but it seemed unlikely that Inge had a deck of Uno cards lying around. But Cass was onto something. If they had something to do to pass the time, maybe Anita would feel less guilt, or at least be distracted enough to not think about it for a short while. “Wouldn’t be opposed to playing a game or something, though.”  

__ 

The scene was a strange one. Inge had people over at her house aplenty, but it was never this kind of combination. Anita in her living room made sense, had occurred before, but Metzli she only knew professionally and then there was Cass, the thief who’d melted her things. Put together the fact that someone was being offered aid and she wasn’t entirely sure if she’d encounter this kind of thing again soon. She gave Metzli a serious look, nodded. “Of course.” It wasn’t like she’d done it for Metzli, but still. She didn’t mind a little appreciation.

Inge remained leaning on the chair until Cass said something about Uno. Now the scene was really becoming something completely foreign. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. She raised up, jaws tight at the movement. “I can find us something. I’ve got a deck of cards, so we can just play crazy eights.” She could host. Though the days of serving guests pickled eggs and vruchtenbowl were over, she hadn’t quite lost that. 

She moved away from the three others, feeling strangely out of place. She cared for Anita, certainly, and enjoyed her company deeply — but she and her had never felt this proximity she seemed to share with Cass and Metzli. No matter. It was hardly like she was jealous. Inge opened one of the many cabinets in the living room, most of them filled with various items. Old games from back at home, books and collections, dried flowers and trinkets she intended to do something with, one day. A deck of cards was produced and she returned, pulling an ottoman close to the small gathering. “If anyone wants something to drink, you can help yourself. There’s wine and other things in the kitchen.” No blood, that she only got when she had planned vampire visits. “But for now, I’ve got the deck. Shall I deal?”

Metzli shook their head at Anita and shushed her. “You are strong and your confidence is big. Maybe you make mistake, but you are alive. That is what matters.” They paused for a moment, offering Anita an intimate gesture by pressing their lips to the back of her hand. For someone not normally too keen on touch, it meant a great deal. It was something that required trust and comfort that they had only just begun to understand. “You matter to me. Worry will happen and that is okay. Just shut up and accept.”

There were various options that everyone presented for entertainment, nourishment, and comfort. Uno sounded interesting enough. If there were only a single item in a game, Metzli figured it couldn’t possibly be overstimulating or incredibly complex. It sounded quiet. Perfect, even. That was probably why Cass suggested it, and they offered a small and gentle smile to her as they gave Anita’s hand one final squeeze. She didn’t need her temperature lowered again. 

“Let us play this Uno game and I can pay for pizza if someone will like to order.” They turned their head just in time to watch Inge’s hair bounce around the corner as she mentioned a much more chaotic game. Crazy eights? That is bigger than one. Not by much, but enough. And the numbers were crazy? Metzli couldn’t make sense of it, but before they knew it, Inge provided the group with a deck of cards. They stared at it as if it were as atypical as themself, their back stiffening as they shook their head and responded. “I will watch. I do not want to gamble in your deal.”

Anita asked about her, about her well-being, and it was enough to make Cass’s chest feel warm in the metaphorical sense as well as the physical. She offered the lamia a small smile, shaking her head. “It’s not tiring. This is just… being, for me.” Without the need to maintain her glamour, this was actually less tiring than her day-to-day, even if the glamour only took a very small amount of energy to keep up. Regardless, even if it had been exhausting, she would have done it. Anita was cold, and Cass could warm her. That was all there was to it. It was a simple thing.

She hummed, disappointed but not surprised that Inge didn’t have any Uno cards lying around. It had been something of a long shot, given Inge’s whole ‘fancy lady’ aesthetic. Fancy ladies probably didn’t play Uno, which was stupid. Uno was fun. But, regardless, Cass knew how to work with what was given to her. Metzli wasn’t interested in Crazy 8s, though Anita didn’t seem to mind the idea. Cass considered it for a moment.

“Maybe we can do a round or two of that, then Go Fish?” She looked to Metzli as she said it, brows drawing together in a pleading look. It was an expression perfected from years of making sure everyone felt included enough to stay. If there was nothing for a person to do, they were more likely to walk away. And Cass didn’t want Metzli to leave.

She didn’t want anyone to leave, but Metzli was the only one who really could right now. Anita was frozen in place (though not quite literally anymore), and this was Inge’s house. If she could keep Metzli here, they could stay as they were right now. And Cass liked how they were right now. It felt kind of perfect… or as perfect as anything could be, under the circumstances. “Maybe we could have hot chocolate, too?”

—

It would have been too overwhelming for Anita to take the time to fully process and internalize the amount of care that was being given to her. So she was glad to have a distraction in the way of a card game, no matter what game that ended up being. Something to do other than talk about the situation she got herself in. “Crazy 8’s isn’t all that crazy,” she offered to Metzli in Spanish when they seemed uninterested in playing. She wanted them to have a good time if they were going to be stuck here waiting for her to defrost, but also knew that watching the others play might as well be as enjoyable as playing for them. 

Anita was feeling well enough to move her arms a bit, being able to do the absolute bare minimum action for a game of cards. As the cards were delt she reached out to grab her hand, fully accepting that it would be near impossible to keep her cards fully concealed from Cass.  “Hot chocolate would be amazing. Especially if you’ve maybe got some tequila lying around to throw in there?” She asked, looking over at Inge. She should have asked Metzli to bring some from home. Even though she knew the science behind it was flawed, there was no denying that a bit of tequila was known to warm just about anyone up. “I think after a few rounds of the game I should be warm enough to head home. I don’t wanna put y’all out all night.” 

_ 

She looked between the strange range of people and folded down the cards so they could be shuffled and dealt at a later time, “Maybe you can explain the rules to Metzli? It is not so different from Uno.” Inge got up, sure to not touch Cass and her searing skin again. She remembered how she’d burned her once and thought it some kind of metaphor — how warmth could be healing yet also dangerous. 

“Anyway — hot chocolate I can do. With tequila. I’ll also order a pizza.” And she’d pay for it. She was a gracious host, after all. It was a fundamental skill for women of her once-caliber. It was one she didn’t mind not having unlearned — though plenty of the other submissive housewife traits had luckily left her. “What kind of toppings do you like?”

Her eyes flicked to Anita, then. “Don’t worry. Neither Metzli nor I need sleep. You are hardly putting me out. You’ve —” Slept over before, she almost added, before remembering herself. Inge smirked vaguely and then gave Cass another one over. She was okay. Even if she’d stolen her bag and burned her hand. “And if you doze off, that’s alright.” She moved to the kitchen to heat up some milk on the stove, feeling a distant sense of a feeling she couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps it was as simple as contentment, but maybe something more rare — a feeling of safety and unity. 

They knew what Cass was doing when she made that face. They also knew she was scared that they’d leave, even if that was far from the truth. More than once, she had used it to get her way, ensuring abandonment of any kind wasn’t any option. It was how she operated, experiencing dismissal and loneliness far too long. If given the chance to live those moments again, Metzli surely would’ve given Cass what she wanted without any sort of plea. 

They just enjoyed her face far too much to give in immediately. They enjoyed the way she knew a certain look would sway any decision they made. As if Metzli was truly her guardian. “I am staying, mihijita. And I will beat you at this crazy game.” Gently, they reached over and patted her head, ruffling her slightly and playfully with a small but genuine smile on their face. “I will also beat Anita.” They chuckled, rising to their feet to help Inge out in the kitchen. A room they were comfortable and navigated well in. Never mind the fact that they had no need to eat actual food anymore.

“If you have chocolate that I can melt with the mix, I can help you make it very tasty.”

 “Pineapple!” Cass cut in immediately, eager to make her preferred pizza topping known. Normally, she might have let someone else respond first, might have pretended to like whatever the popular answer was, but… she felt comfortable, in this moment. She felt comfortable enough to be a little more of herself, to stop pretending even if it was only for a heartbeat. Later, the mask would slip back on as easily as breathing. She’d cut herself into smaller pieces, something easier to digest. But right here, right now… Cass felt good. And that was good. Wasn’t it?

She grinned a little as Metzli agreed to stay, feeling as though some invisible weight had been lifted. The teasing, too, felt good, felt like something she’d never thought she’d have. “There’s no way you’re beating me,” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m totally gonna win. You’ll probably beat Anita, though.” She flashed Anita a grin — a quiet confirmation that she was only kidding, with a question underneath it: is this okay, are we here yet, can we do this? 

As Metzli and Inge went into the kitchen, Cass remained with Anita. This was good, she thought. However terrifyingly the night had started out, this ending was good. She wanted more nights like this. She wanted them forever. 

—

It was not very often that Anita found herself alone, physically. She usually had some body nearby to keep her company - either a meal or a tryst. Even when she spent time with people she cared about, the people in this room, it was almost always one-on-one. Genuinely, she did not know if that was an intentional doing on her part or if it was coincidental. Laying there, wrapped up in physical and emotional warmth felt so foreign to her. It made her think back to Mexico, before she left home. But even as she let her mind wander back there, as she shuffled through her cards and listened to discussions about pineapple on pizza, Anita was faced with the reality that home had never actually felt quite this warm. 

Anita could tell, as she floated in and out of consciousness on the forest floor, that she was nearly done shedding her old skin. The arrow wound that had previously penetrated deep into her abdomen was healed and the only evidence of the injury laid in the dark red blood stains of the scales that had been pushed off of her body, coiled up in the molted exoskeleton that was bunched up near the rattle at the end of her tail. Her body had done its job and healed itself from the unexpected attack that had taken place days earlier. But what her body could no longer do was transform back into her human form… or move at all, really. 

It was early morning, the sun not even peeking up over the mountains that surrounded her yet, and the freezing temperatures of the Maine winter had proven to be too much for the mojave lamia to overcome. With every ounce of might she could conjure, Anita tried to get up off her back. She tried to start the journey home, one slither at a time, but all she was able to do was twitch her tail ever so slightly and create a soft shaking rattle. It barely rivaled the winds that were whipping around her, not that she really expected anyone to be nearby to even hear her. “Lo siento,” escaped from her lips as she fought to keep herself awake. Lamia, like any cold blooded reptile, can’t handle extreme temperatures for long periods of time and Anita had been battling the cold for at least two days as she molted. Her quiet apology was to herself, and to her loved ones, for the carelessness that led to the dire circumstances she had found herself in. There was no talking her way out of this mess, though, not this time. She had to hope for a miracle, one she doubted she even deserved. 

_ 

She relished in the astral, her aching earthly body forgotten as she glanced down at Wicked’s Rest. This might as well be how she hiked, how she enjoyed the last hour of night before she was tied to the earthly plane again. Inge intended for it to be a moment of respite. Of course, her intentions never worked out — and as she looked down at the forest and its nightly critters, she halted. Another astral entity balked at her for stopping in her tracks but she didn’t much care. There was a snake on the forest ground, larger than average and with a scale pattern Inge knew. A scale pattern she’d stroked, appreciated, marveled at.

She manifested back onto the earthly plane, crouching at the sight of her. There was blood and scales and an arrow, abandoned but stained with the same blood. “Anita –” She found confirmation that it was indeed her colleague, friend and occasional lover as she crouched there. 

Inge was many things, but she wasn’t equipped to carry a snake that size home nor did she have any warmth to offer it. She too was coldblooded, after all, and her already measly physical strength was limited by her own healing injury. And so she offered a promise of return, dropped a pin on her phone and searched the astral for a helping hand. Requirements of said hand were as follows: not weird about shapeshifters, strong and willing to help. Preferably awake. She scoured her mind, scoured the town and ended up staring down at Otis, slumped on his couch but awake. She appeared in front of his door, banged on it and didn’t wait long to say what she needed when he opened it.

“Otis — hi, I need your help. A person needs your help!” Person, snake – same thing. Inge tugged at his arm. “You have a car? My friend, she’s in the woods, she’s …” She frowned. “Injured. She needs tending to.” A glance. “Discreetly.”

—

The firefighter had only just closed his eyes. The night shift wasn't a particularly hard or grueling slog, but it was long. Lots of little calls. Not a lot of sleep. Better though, he thought, than any big dangers. Fires were far more common this time of year than people realized. And usually electrical, which were so much more dangerous, had a much bigger capacity for lethal spread. 

Luckily, Wicked's Rest had afforded Otis some of its namesake in the sense that the only sights he saw that night were false alarms and easy fixes. A few fallen seniors, a few folks caught out in the cold in need of shelter, a few more mysteriously dizzy and fatigued, always coming out of that strange fancy bar downtown. Dan's Cabra or whatever. Otis didn't really get what goats had to do with alcohol and dizzy patrons without a drop of alcohol in their bloodstream. Always coy about how they got into that state. He didn't pry much either though. Just did his job, until he could go home. 

Home was a run down walkup, third floor apartment. The front door didn't lock, the paint was cracked, peeling, and probably far more lead filled than the landlord would ever admit. It was creaky, leaky, and drafty. But he was allowed to make alterations to one of the rooms enough that he had a good recording studio, and that's all Otis really needed. He was a simple guy. Why would he need fancy things? No one needed those amenities, like a dishwasher, or an actual bed, or a doorbell. People who visited seemed to manage just fine. 

The knock came, the bear groaned. A long low sigh set into the pillow he'd crashed into upon arriving home. It took a considerable effort to peel himself off the couch, to walk the short space between there and the door, and he hesitated before opening it because… there was a shade of fear on the other side. Unease. Worry. Not as potent as proper fear, but still present. Still something that made Otis' tummy twinge at the thought of seeing whoever it belonged to. 

Worse, when he opened the door, it was a familiar face. Inge Endeman. The professor, or something. From the college? That was the second place they met, or was it the first? Either way, Inge was a face he wouldn't soon forget. Not with the way she tracked him down, made him spill his metaphorical bear beans and give up a dire secret he'd promised his mamas he'd never tell another living soul. Otis couldn't say he was happy to see her, but the moment she explained he was already locked into whatever this mission was. Someone was in need. That's all he needed to know. 

“Yeah. Truck. Where we goin’?” 

—

She didn’t sleep much these days. If asked, she’d insist it was because superheroes didn’t sleep much, anyway. Batman wasn’t known for taking naps, after all, and Daredevil probably hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in years. It was a solid excuse. It made sense, it was easy to claim, it could be backed up with hundreds of issues of comic books providing ‘proof.’

But it was still just an excuse.

The truth was something far less fun. The truth was far more tied to the warden’s hand that she still felt gripping her throat months later, to the empty spot beside her where Alex used to sleep, to the crypt where she and her friends had faced down Metzli’s sire and left behind so much dust and ash that sometimes she still felt as though she was choking on it. Superheroes didn’t sleep, but Cass hadn’t felt like a superhero in months now, and she was awake, anyway. She didn’t want to think about what that probably meant.

Walking helped, sometimes. Feeling the Earth beneath her bare feet, pretending she could still help people if she tried hard enough. She was out in the woods tonight, close to the road but not too close. The odds of running into someone in need of a hero were low, but she had her glamour down, anyway, like she was still Magma, still useful. She heard the occasional car on the roadside, people going home from work or the bar or wherever people went at this hour, but nothing of note.

At least, not until one of those cars stopped. 

She was curious; she usually was. She moved towards the sound carefully, prepared to peer out from a well-hidden spot where she wouldn’t be seen until she spotted —

“Otis?” Superheroes and firefighters had a ‘working relationship,’ and Cass had run into Otis more than once. But there was no firetruck nearby, and the only thing resembling flames that she could feel was her own magma. “What are you doing here? What’s —” The passenger door opened, and Cass blinked at the unfortunately familiar woman who stepped out. “Oh. Um, if you guys are going to… do something weird in the woods, can you wait until I leave?”

—

She was glad for many things. Glad that Otis wasn’t like her, ready to question everything she said, pressing to find out the truth. Glad that he didn’t ask how she’d gotten there, why she’d known he was awake, why she was asking him. Inge wasn’t often overrun with appreciation for the naive and kindhearted but today she was. “The woods.” 

She got in the driver’s seat, glad that he had a truck and she didn’t have to sink down far to get into it. She looked for somewhere to put her phone, but soon realized the truck was from the year pre-smartphone and gave up. “Just straight ahead,” she said, turning on navigation on her phone and instructing Otis to their point of destination. Of course they couldn’t drive the car all the way to where she’d found Anita (though Inge wouldn’t be opposed to it — trees regrew). So they parked, a small walk away from where her serpentine friend was. She gave Otis a small rundown, omitted some details because she figured it’d be easier if he just asked whatever questions popped in his head. She wasn’t sure how far she could trust him, after all. Desperate times, though.

Upon exiting the car, Inge was ready to start a brisk walk that would have her regret it later, when the pain settled deeper in her muscles. For now, though, she was focused. Hopeful, almost, but mostly dealing with that powerless fury that came after the damage done by hunters. If her back and gut didn’t hurt still, she’d almost consider revenge.

But before she could even start, there was another figure joining the scene. Her eyes fell on the girl who’d poured lava into her bag and narrowed. “Scram,” she told her, voice tight. “Leave now. That way.” She pointed in the opposite direction. “Bye. We have weird things to do. No time to be robbed.” Inge looked at Otis and nudged her head in the direction her phone was pointing them. “Come on.”

—

Very few people accused Otis of having the grit to rub together two thoughts to make an idea, but this was something he had studied for. Something he knew quite a bit about. “Hypothermia.” He stood firm between the strange woman and the stranger superhero. He didn't know how Magma did her special effects, or if it was just another trick of his overactive imagination, but the girl did put off a magnitude of heat that would be down right useful at a time like this. 

“You said it was hypothermia, Miss Inge, we could use all the help we kin get.” The bear nodded towards the hero, a little star struck as he'd always been every time she was on the scene. The firefighters had a sort of… section for the weird shit in town. Otis, unknowingly, had been sorted right in. He didn't notice that his company had a knack for hitting emergencies all over town rather than just in one small neighborhood. He didn't notice that the others on shift with him also had a strangeness about them. Better suited to work in teams against the oddness the town had to offer. There was a reason Otis and his company kept running into Magma, a reason they'd given the hero the number that went straight to their station. Otis didn't know, but he was happy to see the vigilante every time. Made him feel special. Like the background character in a comic book that got featured for a page. Even got a line here and there. 

“Magma, we do need your help. Please.” 

—

It wasn’t as if she was surprised that sketchbook lady remembered her. Cass was pretty memorable. She left a lasting impression, she turned heads! Still, she’d hoped that the woman might be the ‘forgive and forget’ type. No such luck, apparently. Rolling her eyes, Cass prepared herself to walk away, but something in Otis’s voice stopped her.

Hypothermia? 

“Who has hypothermia?” Cass glanced between the two, but neither of them seemed quite ‘cold’ enough to set off any alarm bells there. “That’s definitely something I can help with. Tell me what you need?” 

And so, Otis did. He explained why ‘Miss Inge’ (no way was Cass giving sketchbook lady that level of respect!) found him the way she had, that there was someone who needed help in the woods. Was there ever any question about whether or not Cass was going to lend a helping hand? She might not have been a very good superhero, especially not anymore, but she was still a superhero. She wanted to be better, to do better. She really did.

When Otis was done, she glanced to Inge. “Look,” she said, “I don’t care if you like me or not.” Her stomach churned with the lie. “I want to help. And you’d be stupid not to let me help, by the way, since heat is kind of my whole thing! So lead the way, and I’ll save the day. Deal?”

—

The wispy auburn hair and doe eyes felt like a vision to the lamia as she fought to keep hold of her own consciousness. But everything inside of Anita was running slowly and running out of time, including all inklings of rational thought. The woman she was looking up at was devastatingly beautiful and for a brief moment Anita wondered if this was the face of death coming to collect her. But the eyes were too familiar, just like the voice that spoke her name, and just as she was able to place that familiarity it was gone with the slow blink of her eyes. The interaction seemed so quick that it hadn’t even felt real. Why would Inge have been out here in the woods? If she had been here, why would she have left just as quickly as she appeared? 

No, Anita convinced herself, it was a hallucination. Her mind was crying out for help and so it manifested a glimmer of hope for itself. The choice for that hope was curious. She had time to think about all of the people she would want to see before the end as she laid there over the past forty eight hours trying to heal herself and, admittedly, Inge hadn’t quite made the list. Her mind had gone straight to family, to Metzli. And as the cold had continue to set in, Anita thought about her blood -  those she left behind in Mexico. 

Seeing Inge, even for that fleeting moment, made Anita realize just how closed off she was to this town. Isolating herself had always felt like a defense mechanism but now she was surrounded by the manifestation of that isolation and it was painful. It hadn’t protected her at all but instead made her vulnerable. Her eyes had shut again and she didn’t quite have a sense of how much time had passed when they managed to slowly flutter open again. Something had stirred her some noise off in the distance. 

With exceptional difficulty as her body felt like it was freezing solid, the lamia managed to shift her head up towards whatever she had heard. It was just enough for Anita to see some heat signatures off in the distance. One was just faintly warmer than the freezing temperatures surrounding them, one seemed rather normal, and one burned a heat she had only seen a few times before. Was her mind imagining this, too? “Cass…?,” she whispered faintly, undoubtedly too quietly to be heard from such a distance.

_ 

Otis called the little lava-flowing thief Magma and Inge would have laughed if it wasn’t for the situation. She was no good at this — she wasn’t like the other two people standing on this forest floor. There was no heroic bone in her body, but she’d be damned if she let Anita lay on that forest floor looking as she did. And though she wasn’t sure what happened, she assumed a hunter had loosened that arrow. She was done with losing things at the hands of hunters. Dignity. Lovers. A feeling of safety.

She glared between them. She wasn’t sure what ‘Magma’ was, but there was something about her that was hot, that she knew. Otis seemed to think she could help and she seemed overly eager (she tried not to be annoyed by this) and Inge was pragmatic enough to not opt for an argument in a situation like this. “My friend. Fine. You can help.”

With that, she started walking, attempting to walk as straight as possible, to not show the limp she’d gained since the factory. Her eyes were focused on her phone and Inge wished it was dark so she could travel through another plane of existence instead of figuring out the way over small forest paths that didn’t agree with her slippery shoes. She looked at ‘Magma’, wondered how far she could trust her. Probably farther than she could throw her, but she didn’t want to spare itt o her. “What is it you can do? Is it magic? Doesn’t matter. She’s cold, my friend. She’s … Lamia.” She’d figure it out when they came across her anyway. “I don’t know what happened. But she’s hypothermic, like Otis said.” 

As they neared the red pin on her phone’s map, Inge pushed through her pain and upped her pace, leaves sticking to her heels as she stepped off the path and into the thick of it. She didn’t care much about the branches that got stuck in her hair, just kept her eyes sharp for the familiar shape of Anita. When she reached her, she crouched down, face pulled in an expression she blamed on the sear of pain in her abdomen. “I brought reinforcements. Okay? Gonna get you out of here.”

—-

Admittedly, when Inge came to Otis, banging on his door, a fresh new flavor of fear flowing off her in droves, the bear didn't expect a snake to be the victim (or snictim, he supposed) in need of rescuing. A big snake, but a snake all the same. Enough people were scared of the slinky noodlers that Otis probably could have made several meals just being a wildlife photographer, though, he weren't terribly sure how well that'd work or what the rules to his special dietary restrictions were. 

Didn't matter that much though, this… very very large snake clearly meant a lot to Inge, so who was Otis to judge, really? He'd already resisted the urge to ‘woah’ upon seeing her. Best just to keep up the polite play and help a critter out. The firefighter had brought a trauma blanket, as well as a small kit (that was much more suited to a human, but the basics would likely work the same.) He was far too focused on the job at hand to figure out what the other two were jawing about. Magic? Well, no the superhero might've looked magical, but it had to be some fancy science, right? Something else Otis wouldn't really understand much of. But magic didn't exist. 

“Right miss… snake. I'm gonna pick you up now, just gonna ask real nice of you not to bite me, kay?” Otis got to work, gathering the majority of the snake up into his arms before turning towards the other two. “This… changes up the tactic a little. Gonna need somewhere we can warm her up slowly and consistently. Not too much all at once.” 

—-

Cass listened as Inge provided more details. Her friend was a lamia — something Cass only knew about thanks to Anita, and Metzli’s cohabitation with her. She thought about the woman now, about whether or not she should call her for advice on this whole thing, but that would totally ruin her reputation. Besides, it seemed simple enough — Inge’s friend was cold, and Cass was hot. The math was pretty easy to do, even for someone who’d never seen the inside of a classroom.

She trailed along behind Inge and Otis as they made their way through the woods, wondering just how Inge’s friend had been hurt to begin with. Had it been an accident? Or was there something more sinister at play? Cass’s mind went, the way it so often did, to that hand around her throat. Her hand came up the gently touch her neck as if she could still feel it there, and she walked with a bit more determination. Closer and closer to where Inge was leading them, until - 

“Anita?” She recognized the form on the ground instantly. From the cave when Luci was fixing the goo situation, from the crypt with Metzli’s sire. She’d always thought Anita’s snake form was beautiful, but right now, with it so still and so quiet, Cass felt an overwhelming amount of panic. She rushed over to the snake’s side, only to falter when Otis got there first. He was speaking, and he seemed to know what he was talking about, so Cass listened. She nodded, eyes never leaving Anita. “Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. Just — She can’t die. Okay? She can’t.” 

—

Anita could feel the stiffness of her body growing more intense and it made everything, including and especially staying awake feel all the more impossible. Even in her weakened state her hearing hadn’t failed her and it didn’t take long until she began to hear the soft crunch of footsteps making their way towards her. The sounds, those gentle vibrations that ran through the forest floor, felt more real than anything her eyes had seen in the past several hours. So when she saw Inge crouched beside her again Anita decided to believe what she was seeing, too. 

There was a stranger present as well. A man she didn’t recognize by sight, smell, or sound. He had a soothing tone to the way he spoke, though. If Anita were more present in her own body she would have really enjoyed being called Miss. Snake. There was no power left in her to tell him she wouldn’t bit him… let alone enough energy to actually bite anything. And then she saw Cass and it all started to feel like the scene at the end of the Wizard of Oz - and you were there, and you were there… 

The guy who was lifting her up seemed to have a plan that involved getting Anita warm and there was a soft sense of relief that rushed over her. That mixed with the looks of such genuine concern that were evident on both Inge and Cass’ faces began to feel overwhelming. Her eyes drifted from Inge, to the man carrying her, then over to Cass and she was almost glad that she was in such a catatonic state at the moment so she did not have to actually grapple with the reality of the emotions that were brewing inside of her. 

Too tired to speak, Anita let out a soft and slow “Hsssssss,” something she hoped would translate into her appreciation. She wasn’t out of the cold yet, literally, but she no longer felt she was destined to rot away out here in the Pines. 

_

So ‘Magma’ knew who Anita was. Inge figured that to be a good thing considering that seemed to mean she cared about the other. Otis, though he seemed quite out of his depth, also shot into action at the sight of the snake. Maybe she should have told him about the other woman being a shapeshifter, but she had just assumed he’d know about these things the same way she knew about plenty of things. Again, this wasn’t her forte. But she seemed to have delegated quite well.

She kept her eyes glued to Anita, taking a small step back to let the others take charge. Her eyes flicked between the two other party members, landed on ‘Magma’. “She won’t.” Her answer was resolute, because that’s how Inge felt. She thought of reptiles lying on warm stones, under warm lights or even the sun. “You – what you did, the other night. You can make yourself warm. Do that. Not as hot as then, but warm. Can you do that?”

She moved to stand next to Otis and Anita, leaving plenty of room for ‘Magma’ to warm the lamia’s body. She remembered the touch of Dīs when she’d been found, how welcome it had been after that stretch of unending pain. Her fingers reached for Anita’s, weaving with hers and giving a small squeeze. “Give a squeeze if it’s too hot?” She looked at lava girl, wished her eyes still glowed their demanding red but the forest was no longer as dark as it had been. “Can you walk with her to the car, Otis, as —” She refused to call her Magma, so just looked at her, “— you try and give her some gradual warmth?”

—

Otis nodded. His part was easy, for what it was worth. The massive snake coiled in his arms, reminding him of the time his moms had brought him to an animal education center. They were there picking up some supplies, but the lady that was running it allowed the young bear to hold an anaconda. The scales felt different, the whole snake felt different, but maybe that's just cause this had to be a northern snake. Things got bigger in the cold, right? Something about having to preserve energy cause it got way too chilly up here. Sounded right enough. Otis didn't really know much about biology, much less about things that didn't live on the ranch. 

His mama used to say that Otis’ bear must have been built for the north. Maybe that's why he picked this place out of anywhere to settle and get research done. All the frozen weather had made him was sleepy, though. And thankful for the cluster of days he always had off. 

The trip back to the truck was a little harder than the trek in. The trauma blanket looked like a foil tarp over the world's largest lumpy burrito. Probably clocking in at almost half a ton, but it was rude to ask a lady her weight, and it wasn't like the snake was going to answer. No, Otis just had to guesstimate by the ache in his shoulders by the time they'd hiked back a mile to the road. He was strong, but not necessarily built for endurance. The sight of the little blue pickup was a welcome one, that's for sure. 

“Ain't enough room in the cab, but if you can do yer… hero stuff in the bed, I can start drivin’ us somewhere safer. Miss Inge, where are we headin’?” 

—

Inge considered the question. Did she care more about letting a known thief into her house and risking getting her shit stolen or did she care more about helping Anita? The latter it was, an easy decision in the end. “My house. I’ll give directions.” Considering he didn’t have a navigation system. And she was the boomer. “It’s in Deersprings, so not too far.”

—

Anita hissed, and Cass wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or a good one that she sounded more snake than human right now. (Probably bad, right? Everything seemed bad when she was like this, everything.) Cass found herself distracted as she stared at Anita’s scales, almost missing Inge’s words. Luckily, she snapped back to herself pretty quickly, nodding her head. “I can get warm,” she confirmed. Focusing on her hand, she pulled some of the magma away from the limb so that it was warm instead of hot and rested it in the center of Anita’s scaly chest.

It was a little hard, walking with Otis with her hand in place while also concentrating on keeping it the right temperature. It was a little bit like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time; signals got a little crossed and, if you weren’t careful, you’d get the two mixed up. Cass was careful, though. She wasn’t going to mess this up, wasn’t going to risk making things worse for Anita. Still, it was a relief when they got back to the truck. Cass had never been so happy to see a vehicle in her life. 

“I can sit in the back,” she agreed with an eager nod. “I’ll warm her up. You just focus on getting us somewhere safe, okay?”

—

The first rush of warmth that extended out from Cass’ hands felt like a shock to Anita’s system. It wasn’t that the temperature was too hot necessarily, but it was just such a contrast to how deeply chilled her body had gotten. Then she felt the cool grasp of a hand in her own, which provided a similar comfort to the heat radiating around her now. The relief was not instantaneous but gradual, wavering slightly as the unlikely group trekked out of the woods and towards a questionable looking pick-up truck. It was apparent that she was beginning to feel at least slightly more okay given that the first thought that crossed her mind was whether or not that was the only means of transportation available to them. Evidently, as she got gently loaded into the bed of the truck, it was. 

Even though she had never gotten this cold before there was some instinctual part of Anita that knew a few minutes of heat was not going to be enough to really shake her out of this state that she was in. If it had been, she would have told everyone that her house was undoubtedly closer than Inge’s and equipped with a room full of heat lamps. Cass was generating more heat than her lamps could really even dream of, though, and Anita didn’t hate the idea of going somewhere where she wouldn’t be alone. 

As the truck drove along the back roads of Wicked’s Rest, undoubtedly a startling sight for anyone who may have been awake and spotted her in the back, Anita started to feel like she could move herself ever so slightly.  “Thank you,” she said softly to Cass, feeling a mix of gratefulness and embarrassment at the circumstances. It wouldn’t be long until they were at Inge’s place and truly out from the cold. 

_ 

She got back into the driver’s seat, stuffing her phone in her coat pocket as she got ready to give Otis directions when needed. She flipped down the sun visor and glanced at Anita and ‘Magma’ in the van’s bed. Her legs spread as far as they could, her body protesting against the walking she’d done but something in Inge feeling relieved all the same. In her mind’s eye she saw Sanne’s neck and the axe that undone her head from there, thought of other undead she’d lost over the years. 

Anita would be alright and that was enough for now. No room for the rage, the fear, the concern. Just the process of getting her to her house. She took her eyes off the thief and her friend, glanced at Otis. “You’re going to have to turn right up ahead, and then a left immediately.” 

Her eyes switched from Otis to the view at the back of the car to the road and eventually she said, “Thanks. For coming without question. For — carrying her.” He could have thrown the door in her face, considering the sleuthing she’d done, the intrusive way she’d dug into his life and dangled his hidden truth into his face. It said something in favor of his character, something she’d usually think of as below her. How could she do that now, though? When both the bugbear and the lava girl had jumped at the chance to help, despite her own conflicts with them? Inge wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

But this too paled in comparison with the mission still at hand. So she kept pointing Otis into the direction of her house until they’d reached it, rushing out the car to check in on ‘Magma’ and Anita. “I’ll open the door. It’s just up there, third floor, there’s an elevator.”

—

Otis followed directions well. Part of being a firefighter. You had someone behind the wheel, and someone navigating the fastest way to wherever you needed to be. Whenever you needed to be there. That’s just what this was, wasn’t it? Inge had turned to him, thanked him like there ever was a question. He just nodded. Words escaping him now that he was on a mission. Still on a mission. Before was… direction. He had to speak because he had to take charge. He wasn’t a man of many words, at least not in person. Wasn’t as easy to get tongue tied behind the mic. But here? In the cab of his car with a creature in need in the back it didn’t matter that she wasn’t human, Otis thought, only that she had so many people who cared so deeply for her. 

Once again, the snake was in the bear’s arms. Coiled up and under a blanket, but he could tell she felt warmer. Good. Whatever Magma had in that fancy suit was powerful. Did a damn good job. Made Otis wish they had those down at the station. Maybe he’d ask her about it later. Ah, but, he had said he’d only use the number for emergencies. Right? He wasn’t too sure where the line fell. 

He followed directions again, this time leading the small group into the home that was also pretty damn cold. Otis settled the large snake where told, and stood rather awkwardly after. This was the part that the EMTs usually left. The part where he usually left. Was he supposed to leave now? His job was done. 

“Right. So.” His eyes flicked between the three ladies of the house and– was that an arm? Nah, just another trick of his imagination, right? Otis nodded again. “Call me if you need anythin’ yeah?” And with that, he turned. 

— 

Anita spoke, and it was the best thing Cass had ever said. The thanks washed over her and, for once, there was no hesitation in the way she released it. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly, stroking Anita’s head absently. “Just be okay. I just need you to be okay.” With everything that had been going on lately, she didn’t think she could have handled losing Anita, too, even if they didn’t know one another as well as Cass might have liked. She wouldn’t want that for Metzli, or for Anita, either. Anita was always willing to help where Metzli was concerned; Cass liked to think the lamia would do the same for her, too. 

Eventually, they arrived at what must have been Inge’s house. Cass wondered if she should have told Otis to take them to Anita’s house instead, but… maybe this was better. She could text Metzli, let them know what was going on, and Anita could choose how much to share with them after the fact. After the way the night had gone, Cass thought that Anita deserved some choice in the matter of how it concluded.

Cass hovered as Otis lifted Anita from the truck, keeping a hand on her at all times to continue the warming process. She followed, worry practically pouring from her as they took Anita to rest her where Inge had indicated. Cass plopped down close to the lamia, wrapping a warmed arm around her.

Turning to Otis, she offered him a smile. “It was really good of you to help,” she said. Hesitantly, she added, “Thank you.” She could owe Otis a favor; there were far worse people to be indebted to. Glancing to Inge, she chewed her lip carefully. “I want to stay to help her warm up more. If that’s okay? I want to make sure she’s all right. I’m friends with her roommate — they’re probably really worried.”

—

There was such a subtle intimacy in the way Cass spoke and warmed up the lamia. Anita had developed a great fondness for her but would have never thought that the sentiment was mutual, or would result in such compassion and care. She understood why Metzli seemed to consider her to be family. She understood why having someone to care for you felt so good. 

The truck pulled into the driveway that Anita had driven into more than a few times herself, and even though everything still ached, there was an undoubtable relief that fell over her. She was warming, slowly, but enough that the dread of death had begun to fade and was steadily being replaced by the dread of embarrassment. Embarrassed that she had gotten herself in this predicament to begin with, embarrassed she needed to be rescued, and dreading the conversations she expected to need to have once she was back to being herself again. 

While geology was never Anita’s forte, it didn’t take an expert to realize that the mineral crystals that had been appearing all around town were bad news. It was why she had begun to keep her distance from Serpent's Flat, she didn’t need anything tempting her curiosities any further than they were already tempted. Anita had lived just enough life to know when something wasn’t worth the trouble, and these crystals screamed trouble. There was enough in town and in life for Anita to be focused on so it was easy enough to tune out the crystal theories, most of them anyway. 

The distance between her and the minerals didn’t last forever, however, as she walked into her office later one evening to find a large crystal shard placed on her desk. It stopped her dead in her tracks: was this a gift or a threat? Or perhaps, although less likely, a mistake? Anita set her bag down on her office chair and looked around the room, peering her head out into the hallway as well, to see if there was any trace of anything. There wasn’t. 

Anita’s first thought was to just knock the damned thing into the trash can and be done with it. Maybe she was getting soft, but she did stop herself upon concern that an unsuspecting student or janitor might pick the thing up. She’d need to take it off campus. Anita pulled out a rag to wrap the crystal in, knowing that there were containers in the lab down the hall she could put it in for safer transport. She just had to make it down the hall with this thing first - how difficult could that be? 

_ 

Though Inge knew better than to touch the crystals, she continued to feel increasingly intrigued by them. There were rumors swirling about the effects of the purple, glowing things, and while she didn’t want to experience such effects (she did not want her mind corrupted, the way it had been when she was human and frail) she wanted to see them first-hand. She also wished to own one of these crystals, at the very least — she had an artist’s eye after all, and they were glorious and gorgeous and not said to hold healing or inspiring qualities like other crystals.

Alas, she still didn’t have a crystal, nor had she (knowingly) seen its effects. Of course, there had been a wide array of strange behavior as of late, like that zombie who’d taken a literal piece of her and some of her students, acting more rash than the average teen (which said a lot). It could just be the changing seasons, of course! To try and rationalize human and inhuman behavior would be quite the waste of valuable energy.

So instead she just returned to work, only to have one of her desires thrown into her lap! Or, perhaps more accurately, two of them. Inge watched Anita move through the halls of campus with one of those crystals, eyes widening. It took little consideration to move over, the meeting she was on her way to forgotten and a look of excited intrigue on her face. “What’s this, where’d you find this?” Anita’s area of expertise was insects (Inge knew a bit about them too, but of course mostly their scary qualities, which to her were the only qualities that mattered), and not rocks. “Do you need … help?” A rare thing for Professor Endeman to say, but Anita was one of the few colleagues she could find herself saying it to and meaning it. Also, she wanted to look at the crystal. Inge was already reaching for her scarf to wrap her hand in. 

_ 

Surely it had been foolish for Anita to think she could make it through the halls of the building with this cursed piece of rock without it drawing in some attention. If someone had to catch her in the middle of this act, however, she didn’t hate that it was Inge. Well, at first she didn’t hate it. Once she saw the look in the other professor's eyes, however, she became weary. Was she excited simply because of a shiny purple crystal or was she excited because it was an abnormal shiny purple crystal? Had she been the one to leave it on Antia’s desk?

No, that seemed unlikely. “Uh.. some crystallized formation. I found it on my desk, just trying to safely discard it.” Anita usually didn’t care what dangerous situations other people put themselves in, sometimes even finding some amusement in the misfortune of others. But she didn’t want to be involved in this particular dangerous situation. “Thanks but… no, I don’t need help. Just taking it down the hall.” 

If it were anyone else, Anita might not have asked the next question, but she knew Inge just well enough to do so, “You know what this is, don’t you?” The real question was whether or not that knowledge was the reason for the interest. But Anita suspected she knew the answer to both questions. 

_ 

Agh! Of course it would be another professor who could a crystal formation on her desk. Had this been a prank of sorts, Inge wondered, and if so, why wasn’t she being pranked like this? Or had it simply erupted in Anita’s office, nature making its way even into the boring buildings of the town’s campus. That was a recipe for disaster, considering the underdeveloped state of the students’ brains and their proclivity towards impulsive disaster. (And thus, it would be funny.)

It made sense that Anita didn’t need help, as it wasn’t like the crystal was too massive to be carried by one person and besides, she seemed like the kind of independent person who could handle these things. That didn’t dissuade Inge from sticking around, eyes still glued to the crystal. “How does one safely discard one of these?” 

She lifted her shoulders at the question. “Not entirely. I mean, there are rumors about them, the crystals.” People murmured about them at Dance Macabre, about a zombie who’d turned crystalline. Students spoke about one of their peers going completely wild after touching it, acting like he’d taken some kind drug. “That they change people, mentally, physically …” She shrugged. “And that they’re pretty. Pretty and powerful. My favorite.”

_ 

The look in Inge's eyes as they remained glued to the crystal made Anita both curious and cautious. There was quite a large part of her that was tempted to just give over the crystal and see what the other professor decided to do with it. After all, it wasn't like she was above letting a bit of chaos run amok. At the same time she rather liked her after-hours meetings with Inge and would be disappointed if they stopped happening because of some crystal. “I’m sure there’s no real way to actually safely get rid of one of these. Honestly I was just going to put it in a box and then…” she trailed off mid-sentence realizing that she actually had not come up with much of a plan beyond that. “...keep it in the box?”  

“I’ve heard the same shit.” There was only one kind of physical change Anita had any interest in ever taking part of, her natural lamia change. “Pretty and powerful is an unparalleled combination, no doubt about that. I tend to prefer pretty powerful women to pretty powerful… mystery crystals.” 

As the pair started to round a corner in the hallway that led down to the labs, a student came rushing around the same corner in the opposite direction and pushed between the two professors as he half-heartedly yelled out “Sorry!” as he continued to run away. Uneasy on her feet from the interaction, the crystal began to slip out of Anita’s hands. For a split second she instinctively started to reach for the object to prevent it from falling onto the ground, stopping herself just in time as she pulled her hand back towards herself and stepped back. The crystal seemed to fall in slow motion, as Anita looked over to see Inge’s reaction to what was unfolding. 

_ 

Putting it in a box seemed like an absolute waste, Inge thought. No, it deserved something better than that. “How about a locked display case? Put it behind sturdy glass and keep it safe with lock and key … that way it can be observed and yet remain away from grubby fingers.” Though she wouldn’t mind watching greedy people with sticky fingers get met with the crystal consequences. She only liked thieves when they were her or when their crimes didn’t affect her, after all. “It’d make a good decoration, I think.”

Lips quirked up in a smile, “I’d have to agree with you. It’s a combination better spent on women indeed.” Why beat around metaphorical bushes? They both knew what they were and what they liked. Inge found herself less interested in the crystal for a moment, a simpler part of her mind taking in the way the other professor looked today. “Still, who would we be if we didn’t appreciate all pretty and powerful things on our path?” 

Before there was a lot of time to think more about insinuations and ways to potentially end this workday with the other, a student crashed between them. Eyes glared at the clumsy student rushed away, before Inge looked at the falling crystal, the way it shattered onto the ground when it hit. She jumped back, a hand grasping the fabric of Anita’s top as she did to pull her along. Getting nicked by a weird crystal shard seemed like a recipe for disaster. “Jesus, you’d think they would have unlearned to run in the hallways when they were in middle school.” She looked at the rag the crystal had been wrapped in. “And well, shit. I don’t think we can carry it in that, any more.”

_ 

It was rare that Anita met someone who shared such a similar penchant for the same vices. Maybe that was why she, briefly, considered Inge’s display case idea. After all, plenty of valuable and dangerous things were regularly contained in that same way. Then she saw the expression on the art professor’s face change a bit - evidently taking time to admire the pretty and powerfulness of Anita instead of the crystal she was carrying. “Some things might seem pretty and powerful… but it’s all just a facade. Like men or politicians.” 

After being interrupted by the rushing student and the crashing crystal, Anita stood there for a second as if she was waiting for something awful to rise up out of the shards that were scattered across the hallway. “I’m not convinced that a lot of these students have done any development beyond middle school so … I guess this shouldn’t be too surprising.” It was, however, exceptionally inconvenient. 

“No, the rag is not the way to go anymore. I feel like at this rate we’re gonna need hazmat suits.” The easier option would be to just leave and pretend that nothing had happened but that would absolutely cause more problems for her down the line. While they were standing there formulating a bit of a plan, another student rounded the corner at a far more reasonable pace. 

“Oh shit,” they said upon seeing the fragments of the crystal across the floor. “Here, let me help.” They bent down and reached out for one of the larger, more in-tact pieces. “No, don’t!” Anita called out, but she was unable to get across the crystalline minefield to physically stop them in time before their fingers gripped the purple shard. 

_

Maybe power and beauty were nothing more than a facade, but Inge refused to think that was the case in any and all cases. She was powerful and beautiful, and she knew how to make those traits work in tandem to benefit herself. In her case, it was no facade or lie — it was real and palpable. Of course, there were moments where she was overpowered (she thought, for a moment, of Rhett and his bunker, then pushed the thought aside) but that didn’t make it any less true. “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s a facade in the case of this crystal. Or with some other people I know.” She smirked. “But in the case of men and politicians, it always is.”

It was hard not to compare some of the students to Vera and how she’d been at their age. She would have ran down these hallways as well, Inge was certain of it. Whether that was because she’d been a spirited adolescent or because Inge had fallen short of a mother was neither here nor there. “Fair point,” she said, preferring to sound amused than like someone who reflected endlessly on her dead past.

The shards caught the light in an interesting way and she was mesmerized for a second, the urge to touch the crystal still present even in its broken state. “We’d still look good in them,” she said absentmindedly, a comment like this ingrained in her system and so said without much thought. She whipped her head up at the sound of another student.

Inge’s eyes widened as the student’s fingers digged into the crystal, anticipation running through her system. She was no good teacher in this moment, more intrigued by what was bound to happen than concerned for one of the people she was supposed to look after. It was hardly like they were kids, after all. “Shit,” she said, eyeing the other with those still-wide eyes. She glanced at Anita for a moment, before wondering what it was the pair of them would see now that the other had touched the crystal. “You’d better drop it — and try not to nick yourself. Do you feel … anything?”

The student looked at her as if there was something wrong with her. “I feel fine, what the hell are you guys so stressed about?” Then they seemed to regain themself. “Ma’ams, I mean.”

_

“Alright, I’ll agree with that.” Anita wasn’t sure if the comment was meant to be a veiled compliment, a statement implying that she was a being that was both powerful and beautiful, but her ego decided to believe that it was. In fact, her ego allowed her mind to wander just enough to think about how the two of them both fit that exception. Sometimes she wondered what might happen, what she might be able to achieve, if she weren’t so bound by the confines of humans and keeping up appearances. 

But there wasn’t enough time to think about that, or how absolutely fine they would both look in hazmat suits, because another dumb student and his foolish attempts at assistance were clearly about to make matters much worse. Were they not in the science building, just a hallway away from her office and her research projects that lived there, Anita might not have been so concerned. Not for the man's wellbeing, he wasn’t one of her students and she had no attachment towards him, but for the frustration that this might all cause her later. 

She had never seen in person what happened when someone touched a crystal. She had heard stories, seen the aftermath, but never been on the front lines. For whatever reason Anita had expected something to happen immediately. Like when she let her scales overcome the weak human skin she was covered in. “First of all, don’t ma’am me, please.” Because that was clearly the most pressing issue before them. “Second, maybe instead of questioning why two professors are stressed about someone picking up crystal shards with their bare hands - maybe just, I dunno, listen.” 

Anita could have carried on with a list of things he had done that irritated her, but then something strange started to happen. The color on the student's face, and the pigment in his hair seemed to drain away, almost as if they were being pulled into the crystal he still held in his hand. That was followed by a soft cracking noise - similar to the sound of a frozen pane of glass makes right before it shatters. “Wha- oh my god. What the fuck!?” The student exclaimed as he frantically shook his hand trying to release the crystal that refused to be dropped. 

“So… this is probably gonna end badly, huh?” Anita commented towards Inge, wondering if accidentally letting a student get consumed by a supernatural crystal would warrant disciplinary action from the Dean. 

_

Had she ever been such a fool as a young adult? She didn’t like to remember that mortal soul, who had done nothing but shape herself to fit a norm so dull and drab that she forgot herself. But her younger self would have listened to authority, and though Inge didn’t much care for it any more, she did think that a rather good quality in the youth. People like Anita and her simply knew better, after all, and not just because of their seniority. It was their natures that made them wiser too.

The bar was low, admittedly. These human half-formed adults, these youthful things — some of them created art that made Inge stand still with some awe, but most of them lacked the simple insight it took to not pick up broken things with bare hands. Never mind a magical crystal! And sure, she had plenty of decades on this student, but even her foolish, naive self at twenty had been smarter than this! That Ingeborg would have given a tea towel at the very least and would certainly not have called her teacher guys.

She was amused, by Anita’s response, by the idiocy, by the thrill that ran through her body. The world had so much to reveal still, and these crystals were just part of it all. “Ma’am is fine for me,” she said, if only to bring a little oppositional energy to the room. “Regardless, she makes a fine point — picking up shards like this with bare hands is generally ill-advised, just for future reference.” Especially on a college campus, which had to be crawling in all kinds of nasty germs. She opened her mouth to continue on, but the sight in front of herself and Anita left her speechless. An impressive feat.

The crystal seemed to knit with his skin, seamlessly becoming part of his body like a lost nail growing from the wrong place. Inge found herself inching closer before she could stop herself, wanting to see what was happening in close detail. As the student started shaking his hand, she moved back, not keen on being hit in the face by a crystal and turning her attention towards Anita. 

“I’m not touching that. Or him, after that.” Inge moved her gaze around the hallway, wondering if any other students were bound to show up. Perhaps they should do something more proactive, but she remained passively intrigued as something seemed to split open the student’s skin, a small shimmer of purple crystal showing up between all that boring, human skin tone. “Maybe we should get him out of the hallway, at the very least — and the crystal.” 

But to help him? God, she lacked the impulse and interest, really. She just wanted to keep watching what was happening, but that would not look very good for her. “Hey, hey — maybe you should … go splash some water on your face, right?” She tried to catch the student’s gaze. A moan and a curse slipped from his lips in response. Inge shrugged, not entirely sure what to do. She’d certainly not become a teacher to help the youth. (And it seemed this one might be beyond help.)

_

The crystal was doing more than just fusing itself to the student, it was creating a transfer of energy. Almost as if the crystal was infecting the student and spreading itself up his arm and across his entire body. It was slow, maybe because the student had only grabbed a smaller shard of the whole crystal. 

As the transformation took place, Anita thought about her own ability to transform. Hers was far more graceful, more natural, more beautiful. There was a certain amount of beauty in the one she was watching, however, even if the student it was happening to was unable to see that. He kept fighting it. That was so curious to her how humans tended to fight so hard against what they had the least amount of control over. While someone else's might have tried to stop the transformation - another futile action - Anita simply observed. It was almost like one of her experiments - what happens when an invasive species is put into an environment it doesn’t belong in? 

Anita looked over at Inge once she had spoken again, almost shocked that the statements even needed to be said. “Well of course we aren’t touching it.” Getting them all out of the hallway seemed like a good call though, didn’t need more obnoxious students running around the corners fucking everything up. The more the transformation took over, however, the less the student seemed very human. 

“Do you think he’s turning into something else entirely? Or do you think he’s being trapped by something else?” There was a not insignificant part of Anita that wanted to spend the next three to nine months observing the impacts of whatever was happening to this student. The creature - or the student? - looked up at the two professors almost as if they were placing blame for what had happened. With a bit of an eye roll, Anita stated “Well we told you not to touch the crystal shards.” In a seemingly painful action, the creature tried to lunge forward at the pair and Anita immediately reached for Inge and pulled them a bit further away. As the crystalline creature moved forward, it stepped on more shards which seemed to either be making it stronger or angrier or both. “So about your out of the hallway idea. I’m loving that idea. Great idea. Let’s figure out how to make that happen, yeah?"

_

She was glad that Anita was, like her, choosing to observe. This wasn’t her field of study either, but it made sense that it would interest her — considering her own ability transform, to make her skin go from one thing to another. Besides, she was a scientist of sorts, or at least a biologist (Inge wasn’t too sure on these terms, if she were honest) and there was something intriguing about this from a scientific standpoint too, wasn’t there?

It would have been disastrous and endlessly annoying if she’d been here with one of her colleagues. A human burdened by the unending need to help others, even if at their own cost. Someone who’d look at Inge and see her callous approach, her perverse intrigue and complete refusal to call for help. This was one of the reasons why she liked Anita — she understood that they were above such obligations and motivations. 

“It seems to be overtaking him — whether it means to replace or transform, I don’t know,” she said, eyes wide and focused. She had half a mind to take out her phone to take a photo, but her memory would have to do for now. Did it matter what was really going on? Not to her. Inge was an artist, a dream-creator. Things could have multiple meanings, could be interpreted in an infinite ways and be more meaningful for it. Duplicity. She wasn’t a scientist, after all — she was someone always looking for inspiration, her new horrifying muse. This student would do. That look in his eyes as his skin kept parting and being filled with purple crystal.

As Anita pulled her back she grew even more intrigued. Was the student pissed off at his two unhelpful professors? Or was it the crystal, influencing his mind? Was it splitting into his mind too? There were rumors of the crystals influencing emotions. “I reckon,” she told Anita, “We should make a run for it. He’ll pursue, I figure — and we can lead him astray. We’re faster than he is, hm?” The student continued to inch closer, not as fast as any other monster Inge had encountered before. She moved down the hallway. “And then, what?” Should they kill it? That would be a waste, wouldn’t it? “Perhaps we should go towards the Pines.” He could be among the trees and figure it out from there. They had told him not to touch the crystals.

_ 

For all the strange and uniquely designed rooms that Anita had cultivated in her home - the greenhouse for decomposing bodies, the heat room where she could lounge about on hot rocks in her lamia form, the room with a massive terrarium in the center - she didn’t have a place to take and observe a creature such as this one. Then again, she’d never really seen a creature like this before. Keeping pace with Inge, she continued to make her way back down the hall and away from the student as it was becoming something new. Something better? Anything had to be better than its prior pathetic humanity. “Good thinking, if it wants to follow us, I say we let it. Keeps us in control.” 

The “then, what?” wasn’t something Anita had much of an answer for. Would the thing follow them forever? Was it locked on like a targeted missile, determined to reach its goal regardless of what might get in its way? Maybe those could be questions answered at a later date. After all, she needed to do far more observation before she could hypothesize let alone try to test out any theories. “The Pines,” she repeated, quickly weighing the pros and cons.