It’s not the suffocating feeling of imminent danger that bothers her the most. Nor the growing pressure of so many eyes burning holes on the back of her head wherever she goes. She is at the top of all of her classes - college or otherwise - and as her twenty first birthday approaches, the fact that she is unquestionably the best candidate to be the next head of the family goes from a novelty to be mocked to a pressing concern.

None of that troubles her anymore than they always have. What is grating on her nerves is the fact that she performed the ritual perfectly and nothing happened. She reviewed the circle, the spells, the chant dozens of times and found absolutely no flaws in them. She does not need to be doubting herself on top of everyone being out for her blood.

Most of her classmates have made their first contracts already, some of them with several spirits. She has until the end of the semester to prove herself, but that’s not what is important for her. The full extent of her powers are restrained until she comes of age, and she can only see herself surviving until then if she finds a powerful enough ally. Instead of wasting her time seeking out spirits, she summoned a demon.

“T-that’s enough!” She finally cries out. The rope around her wrists cut into her as her body instinctively lunges forward, shaking the chair. Please, please, please- they’re dead, they’re dead! Her mind screams. Halia had seen her share of brutality, but what she had seen him do (and the knowledge of what he could do) sent a chill down her spine and made her guts churn.

[ this cold won’t go away and tea isn’t doing anything, what should i do? ]

If there would ever be something that could have alarmed her more than Rapha asking for health advice, Alice couldn’t tell. The message had her bolting straight up and immediately darting all across her house, gathering her medical bag, blankets of all varieties, any and everything she might need. 

She kept badgering him about his location and when he wouldn’t tell her, she called him endlessly until he finally picked up. By the time he admitted that he didn’t know where he was, Alice was already in her car and swallowed down the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach so she would keep sounding calm. 

“Okay, just keep talking to me. What’s around you?” It took her longer than she would have liked to find him, wandering the streets without aim while feverish. Alice was expecting having to argue with him, badger him into getting in the car, maybe even physically urging him inside - the very last resort considering how averse to touch he was. When he got in without so much as a snarky comment, her concerns grew tenfold. 

“Here. Blanket. Tea.” Once he was warmly half cocooned on the seat, she offered him the thermos with ginger green tea. “Where are you staying?” All she wanted was to bring him to her apartment. It was fully equipped to deal with anything. Hell, she might even get away with doing surgery on it. But it would be much better for him to come back to his senses in a place he felt safe in, or wherever was most familiar to him at least.

She acquired the information... easily. And it felt so wrong. Alice couldn’t even be glad that he was following instructions with how wrong it felt. Bringing him to the address, she made sure he was warm enough and guided him out of the car and into the flat, locking the door behind them and assessing the place, which didn’t have much to offer. It was more barren than practical, but it’d do.

     Raphael’s addition to her household was unexpected, but not at all unpleasant. She’d soon grown comfortable with his wintery presence - so refreshing amidst a village of summery souls - and appreciative of his company. Of course, it was good to have another set of working hands at the farm, his in particular worth perhaps triple that number. But more than that, she enjoyed his quiet, earnest nature. Alice still couldn’t understand what had brought the man to their quaint little village in the first place, but everything he did was with a singular - albeit secret - focus, devoid of any ulterior reasons.

And above even that, Raphael made her feel safe. Which was strange, because she’d never truly felt unsafe before for his presence to have changed it so. Not in the village where she knew everyone, nor in the forest where everything knew her. Even the strangers who passed by knew - if not by courtesy, by self preservation instincts - that she should not be made an enemy. Yet, with him around, she felt unnecessary to keep herself on guard at all times. With the now familiar chill of his aura within the reach of her senses, Alice felt like no harm would ever befall her.

It was her own carelessness that led her to carry that sense of invulnerability along with her beyond her own territory and his immediate range. The forest was just as much home as the farmhouse, and her newfound guardian was right there. However, by virtue of her habit of traversing that path every day, its exact distance slipped her mind. The discovery of a fresh sapling perfect for replanting closer to home had her distracted enough to not notice the warnings of the forest itself as the two men ambushed her. 

⋞ Daughter’s Keeper ⋟

@vvhippoorwill​ asked: 'Looks like we missed each other.' the note stuck to the flat package left on top of her coffee table says. No more and no less –– there's no need. They'll probably see each other around, their paths will cross sooner or later. Birthdays aren't much in their world, anyway, and neither is this present, really: A french newspaper used as gift wrap, underneath a thin, plain folder –– inside, hand-painted watercolours of flowers he picked up in an antiquarian book shop, all of them poisonous.

     She knows he’s been there the moment she steps inside, his presence having grown beyond familiar and well into something she misses whenever she can afford to think of such things. Putting her suitcase down, Alice takes off her shoes and walks further into her sanctum while sorting through the mail that had collected over the days she was away, eyes absently searching for any clues as to the reason for Rapha’s visit. The answer is in plain sight. The package atop her coffee table stops her in her tracks and has her changing lanes, setting the letters aside in favor of whatever it is he’s left for her.

The note makes her chuckle. Of course, it couldn’t be from anyone else, but even if it could, the straightforwardness of it acts as a signature in and of itself. Carefully, she unsticks it from the newspaper - taking note of the city and the date out of pure habit - and opens the gift, only to openly gasp into her living room. An entirely genuine smile blooms across her lips despite herself, fingertips gingerly caressing the paper. These are without a doubt the loveliest flowers she’s ever gotten, her favorite birthday gift by far.