Chapter Text
It was quite the ugly sound, that of a knife digging deep in a pool of blood.
You stare at his face, beautiful, isn’t it? You can’t see his eyes, his hair covers them from where it falls across his face. The grass around you is stained with red, discarded flowers lay somewhere you pretend not to see.
Your hand stills. He has long stopped moving, didn’t even try to fight back, perhaps he would have lived then.
Oh well, what’s done is done. You’ll ignore the ache in your chest, the urge to vomit, to scream.
This is all for the Spawn, It will bless you both with a second life, he will understand, you’re sure of it.
———
The study is quiet, except for the passive-aggressive discourse going on currently…
“Grandpa, I don’t think this is one of the spiky circle’s teachings.” Peony says that as she stares at the blank paper on the table, Amarah raises one eyebrow. “It’s Spawn. Not spiky circle…or what other ridiculous names you give Them.”
Peony looks up to the man. “So writing a novel will gain me salvation?...” She gives him a blank expression. Amarah nods in approval. “Yes. What best way to show your devotion than words all dedicated to our beloved deity- blahblah...”
That’s all that followed his words as he started to ramble about Spawn. Peony’s sure he’s a madman, that’s for sure…oh well. It won’t be long until her parents come pick her up, although it’s been quite a while…how long does celebrating an anniversary takes anyway…
“Peony dear, are you listening to me at all? Do you not know how impolite it is to ignore an elder’s teachings—“ There he goes again…
“Grandpa.” Amarah finally turns silent; he waits for her to continue. “When can I go home? I’d rather go to bed earlier than write a novel for- ahem…Spawn.” The man gives her a disappointed look, yet…his gaze is weird, as if he knew something that he could not tell.
A secret, perhaps, a horrible one at that.
“Well dear…anniversary are important, they celebrate the years spent together as one under Spawn’s watchful gaze—“ “But they’re not even married.” Peony interrupts him with an annoyed look. “I wanna go homeee!” “Peony! Do not be so ru—“
“We’re back.” A quiet voice interrupts them. Two Time stands there. They have that usual unnerving smile of theirs plastered on their face. They have something on their cheek; it goes unnoticed by both Amarah and Peony. Speaking of which, she jumps right off her chair to run and hug them.
Two Time does not hug back.
“Nini! You’re back!! Are we gonna go home now? Grandpa started rambling again, it must come with the age!” Amarah scoffs. “Where have you learned such bad manners? Perhaps your father…I for sure know he’s not a well-mannered influence…” He mumble the last part to himself, and then sends his child a knowing look mixed with approval.
It appears to have been a success.
Two Time only stares back at Peony with…unlikely uncharacteristic silence. It is then she realises something’s not right.
“Where’s dad? Did he not come here to pick me up?” She pouts. They hesitate, the ache in their chest has not gone away yet. “Az— your father is quite tired, he’s gone home already. But don’t fret our…our little angel, you’ll see him tomorrow...” They grin, or well…try to, it comes off as scary hence why Peony steps back from the one-sided hug.
“Oh…m’kay, then…can we go home then??” Two Time glances at Amarah who only nods in return. They turn back to her and nod. She smiles brightly and snucks out her tongue at Amarah as a goodbye, in return the man mutters something about impoliteness and all.
———
The walk through the path in the woods is quiet. Peony doesn’t let go of Two Time’s hand, for once she wished they had liver closer to…the town, if one could call it that.
“Did you and dad have fun?? Grandpa said there were shooting stars tonight! We saw one and I wished for- oh! I can’t say or it won’t come true! Hehe…” She giggles but it goes quiet almost silent when their only answer is a slight nod. Peony doesn’t ask any more questions afterwards.
Her gaze picks up a white flower…perhaps a bit too distant from the path but still noticeable enough. She tugs at Two Time’s arm. “Nini! Please can I go pick up that flower?? I promise I’ll be quick! I want to show it to dad tomorrow and see if I guessed its name right! Pleaseee??” They don’t even look down at her, lost in their own world. “Hmm? Oh…yes…sure…”
Peony lets their hand go and quickly moves to where the flower was, definitely farther than she thought it was…but she still could see her parent and the path from here so it is okay!
It’s a Chrysanthemum. There’s a foul smell around here, Peony looks up.
…
“Daddy!! Look what I’ve found!” You hold up a white flower, it looks so simple yet…to you it’s so beautiful.
He takes it in his hand. “Oh, my dear sprout, where have you found this? Flowers like this one don’t usually grow by these parts.” His is such a sweet voice, it would soothe your worries right away what a shame you’ll never hear it again.
“Uhh…” You ponder, brows furrowed in thought. “There..?” You point at an empty patch of grass. Your father follows your gaze. “Hm…only one…but it is such bright luck nonetheless! Perhaps Spawn…err…blessed us today?...” He doesn’t sound convincing. It’s not like you care a lot about that spiky ball anyway.
“What flower is it, daddy?” You ask. He ponders, probably trying to figure it out; you’ve always wondered how he managed to remember all those flower names and meaning. “It’s a Chrysanthemum, my dear, it means life but also death…you could call it a cicle.” He bops your nose, you giggle. “Sometimes people put it in other’s coffins, they use to do this in the…outside world.” He hesitates on the last part.
You simply nod along.
…
Peony’s ears are ringing.
Is that a corpse? It must be, there’s a lot of blood pooling around it. She looks back, her parent is still waiting there, still, too still.
She looks back at the body…just a closer look.
Because that witch hat isn’t his right? It’s probably someone else’s. This corpse is not her father, just someone very familiar.
Two Time had a dark stain on their cheek when they came to pick her up. It’s as if lines are connecting in Peony’s brain.
The anniversary.
The tension in the air with Amarah.
Her parent returning alone, stained red.
And now this.
It makes her sick to the stomach, why would they do this? How is she supposed to face them now? How is she supposed to forgive them for this.
Peony isn’t an angry child, never was, more calm than needed, even a bit too much. But this…rage…this pain. It’s unfamiliar, and for someone her age emotions tend to get overbearing.
She doesn’t register the moment she picks up a rock, but she’s returning back to the path. Her parent They stand there waiting, their expression still lost. Now she knows why.
Peony isn’t strong. Ashlyn always teased her about it when she let that fox slip away, they could have had a cool pet…
It’s a sickening crunch, the rock meeting their face. It falls, again and again.
Peony would not wish death on anyone, especially not her parents, who were held dearly in her heart. However, if one had gone missing, and the other was responsible for it…then what could she do?
She stops once they’re limp. Her eyes hurt, blood coats her hands, face, clothes, hair, everything. Their face is unrecognisable, an eye survived from the massacre but it simply rolls to the side on the floor.
She did this. She…
Peony got up and ran.
———
Now, Amarah was quite enjoying the peaceful moment he got to himself. It wasn’t rare he’d have to take care of his granddaughter, which he didn’t mind but she was lately becoming a pest…due to him probably, it’s a good thing he’s out of the picture now.
“GRANDPA!!” The shrill shriek interrupt his thoughts. “Peony?! How did you enter—and by Spawn!! What happened to you? Are you hurt??”
Now, why is his grandchild covered in blood, he wonders.
“Nini…they—“ She sniffles. “T-They got attacked by a wolf! It’s bad…so bad! I’m sorry I ran away but I got so scared and—“ “Where are they.” Amarah interrupts her.
Peony blinks twice. “T-There…in the woods!” Amarah doesn’t hesitate to grab her arm and lead her out roughly. “Show me.”
If it was him from the past then he would have never guessed the cause of such panic was a random orphan he picked off from the street years ago. A child, so pathetic, that he grew to call his own.
And so the two ventured in the forest, followed the trail of blood that lead deeper in the woods, in the unknown.
———
"Hey Beatrice! What is it like living as a bird?" A little, plump boy with a kattle on his head asks a bluebird excitedly as they wandered through the empty and peaceful woods. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and innocence. The bluebird, who could somehow speak, sighed in frustration as if she was asked too many questions. "Ugh, it's miserable, Greg."
Greg raised an eyebrow, looking down at the comically large frog in his hands as if he is contemplating something. "I think being an animal must be fun! George Washington said so!" He holds up his animal like a prize and the latter croaked. Beatrice thought that it is better to ignore him. The kid is crazy.
Another voice came from behind Greg, a more exasperated and unamused one. "Greg, for the last time...that frog can't speak." The little boy gave his older brother a grin. It was like no mean word could get to him. "Oh come on, Wirt! Don't go pooping on my parade!" Wirt was about to correct him but, God, it was useless with his little bro- well, half-brother is what he'd like to specify. Because they were not brothers, but his step-dad had to come into his life and-
"Earth calling to Wirt! Are you there?" He is suddenly startled by Beatrice's high-pitched voice. "Uhh...yeah...just...lost in my thoughts." He looks to the side as if still lost in thought. It's what he often does. Beatrice was gonna strangle one of these kids one day. One boy had the attention span of a sloth on some kind of substance and the older one was just a Shakespear wannabe. She'd lived in the 1700's, for God's sake! No one acted like that...well, anyways- "Are you still continuing with that poetry crap in your head? Ugh- you know what? As long as you're not reciting crappy verses out loud I'm okay with it...but don't walk like a slug! How are we supposed to get to-"
Wait...why isn't she hearing an annoying mosquito below her asking a thousand questions anymore? Wirt realizes it too. No silly songs or stupid rock facts...
"WHERE'S GREG?!" They shout in unison, partly panicked, but mostly exasperated. Cheese and crackers, this kid could never stay still!
They suddenly hear Greg let out a scream. They jump at the sound...well...Beatrice almost falls from the air actually...
Beatrice and Wirt exchange a look. She sighs. “Whatever, Wirt go look.” “What?! Why me!?” He exclaims. The bird clears her throat. “Well, would you rather put me danger? I’m your guide, I’ll remind you.” Wirt sighs in defeat then turns to check where the sound came from, moving the leaves of the bushes aside.
…
“Uh…Greg?”
Turns out it wasn't a scream of fear at all.