Work Text:
The Bride peeked around the corner. Usually the deliveries were left by the Invisible Man. She'd grown used to the odd sight of clothes held up by nothing, floating boxes, and doors opening by themselves. Instead, today there was a woman standing on the porch chatting with whoever had greeted her about “Griffin catching a cold from running around naked in this weather.”
She had dark hair streaked with brilliant white, as if lightning had struck it and left part of the storm behind as it had done with herself. Pale skin peeked through irregular patches of warm brown, scattered across her hands, neck, and face. The Bride stared. She looked...
Made.
Not exactly in the same way the Bride was made, but different, Beautifully different. Unable to contain herself, she abandoned her hiding place.
The woman barely had time to turn before the Bride was in front of her, silently taking her arm into both hands. Her fingers traced the edge where pale skin met darker skin. No stitches. She frowned. She turned the woman's wrist over, inspecting the other side. Still none.
"Bride," one of Pretorius's followers chastised from behind her. The Bride ignored them.
"She is made?" she asked, looking between the woman and the others. "Like me?"
Her fingertips wandered over another patch. “Where are her stitches?"
The woman blinked before a gentle smile spread across her face. "It's vitiligo," she explained softly. The Bride didn't know the word. "...Vitiligo," she repeated, feeling out every letter.
"It just means my skin doesn't make pigment evenly."
"So..." The Bride looked down again. "You were not sewn together?"
The woman laughed. It was warm, sweet. It settled somewhere beneath the Bride's ribs, making something inside her flutter strangely.
"No," she said. "I was born this way."
Born, another foreign thing to the bride. The Bride had no memory of birth, only awakening, only lightning.
She found herself staring. The woman's smile reached her eyes, crinkling the corners of her face. The Bride's own face grew unexpectedly warm, She had never blushed before.
She learned the woman's name was Ethel. It became her favorite word.
Ethel.
She repeated it quietly to herself whenever no one was listening. Savoring the way it felt in her mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Ethel when she was there. Her laugh filled every room before she did. Her hands were impossibly soft and cold whenever they brushed against the Bride's while passing over bread or teacups; it reminded the bride of the stone statues that decorated her home.
Everything about her seemed soft. The Bride wondered…Would her lips be soft too? The thought arrived without permission.
It lingered.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♡ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The Bride found herself awake long before anyone else. sat before a mirror with a brush in one hand, studying her reflection with unusual concentration. Carefully, she tucked away one stubborn curl; it immediately sprang free again.
She frowned and tried once more, smoothing her hair down over her shoulders. She had never cared about her reflection before.
There had been little point. She knew what she'd see: stitched skin, mismatched pieces, white streaks running through black hair. Mirrors had simply been another way to confirm what she already knew.
But now she wondered. Would Ethel think this dress was pretty? Would she think the Bride looked better in the one that looked like the coats Pretorius's followers wore, or did she like the ones the bride made from scraps?
Would she think the Bride looked better with her hair down instead of piled atop her head? Would she notice at all? The Bride frowned before changing into another dress, then another, then changing back again.
She was adjusting her corset for what had to be the fourth time when a voice drifted through the doorway.
"You're up early."
The Bride looked up. The younger man leaned against the doorframe, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up in every direction, still in pajamas.
"I am," she answered simply.
His eyes wandered over the scattered dresses draped across the bed.
"...You redecorating, or..."
She looked at the pile as though noticing it for the first time. I could not decide."
He grinned. "Getting ready for a hot date?"
The Bride blinked “....A what?"
He laughed. "A date."
She continued staring.
"It's... you know..." He opened his mouth and then closed it. "...Actually, forget it. Doesn't matter." He waved a hand. "You look nice."
The Bride glanced back at the mirror. "...Thank you."
She resumed brushing her hair with intense concentration, forcing it to lie flat despite knowing the smallest stray spark would send half of it curling again.
The young man watched her for another moment. "You've been dressing up every time we're expecting a delivery."
The brush slowed.
"I take it you like Ethel."
The Bride considered the question carefully. Like it felt too small somehow, too simple for Ethel
"She is..." The brush stopped completely as she searched for the right word."...Lovely."
She smiled without realizing, "I enjoy hearing her laugh."
The young man smiled, "I figured."
"What is a date?" She asked abruptly
He laughed again. "I'll explain later."
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The Bride was already waiting by the front window when the knock came. She was on her feet before anyone else had a chance to answer.
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation when the door opened. Floating parcels stepped inside followed by a coat, a scarf, a pair of spectacles suspended in empty air.
Her smile disappeared. “Where is Ethel?"
The invisible head tilted toward her. "Well, hello to you too."
Griffin shut the door behind him with his elbow. "Lovely to see you. Thank you for asking how I'm feeling."
The sarcasm went straight over her head. She simply waited, "...Where is Ethel?"
Griffin sighed dramatically. "I'm feeling much better, thank you for asking. The cold's gone." He set a crate down onto the table. "So I figured there wasn't much point making her run halfway across town just because I couldn't be bothered."
The Bride stared at him. "...Oh."
It was such a small word, so quiet, yet it made Griffin pause. "I take it you were hoping to see her? " He asked
"I like when she's around." She admitted softly
" Believe me, so do I. " He chuckled, "She's quite lovely, isn't she?" Griffin asked, silently gauging something.
The bride felt that familiar warmth creeping to her cheeks that came with the thought of Ethel “ she is”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♡ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Griffin began laughing as he unloaded the order of monocane onto the worktable. It wasn't a polite chuckle. It was the sort of laugh that started somewhere deep in his chest and refused to stop.
"What?" one of Pretorius's followers asked sharply.
Griffin wiped at an eye beneath his spectacles.
"Oh..." he breathed between laughs. "I should've known."
The room waited. He straightened, setting another crate onto the table. "It truly was only a matter of time before somebody in Darkmoor fell head over heels for Ethel."
He pointed vaguely toward the Bride without actually looking at her."It's impossible not to."
The Bride looked up from where she'd been carefully stacking glass bottles."...Head over heels?" Nobody answered her.
Griffin continued anyway. "She's lovely, kind, pretty enough to make a saint reconsider their vows."
The Bride smiled to herself,Griffin noticed his grin widening "There it is."
"What is?" the Bride asked.
"That look."
She frowned. "What look?"
"The one you've got every time someone says her name."
Several of Pretorius's followers exchanged worried glances.
"...Griffin," one started sharply before recovering. “ We don't want her to get the idea that it's ok to intrude on your little… group, certainly the three of you are contempt as is”
He laughed again as he leaned against one of the crates."Used to be four of us, actually."
He began counting on gloved fingers."Ethel. Me. Larry." Another finger. "And my old chap Kemp."
"Unfortunately I had to kill him back in nineteen hundred." He shrugged. "What can you do when someone's a snitch?"
"Haven't had a woman want to join us though." He looked toward the Bride. "That'll be a fun addition."
A heavy silence settled over the room.The Bride tilted her head."...Join?"
"Our happy little family." He smiled even if they couldn't see. "Hell” He waved one hand. "I'm fairly certain Ethel would say yes if you asked her on a date."
The Bride blinked. "...A date."
She recognized the word The young man had promised to explain it to her.
One of the older followers pinched the bridge of her nose."Griffin."
"What?"
"You are not helping."
"I'm being encouraging to young love." He argued
"You're being irresponsible." She argued. Griffin responded with a scoff
"I think you should go."
"What?"
"We're quite busy today."
"No tea?"
"No."
"Biscuits?"
"No."
He sighed dramatically. "You're all terribly inhospitable."
"Goodbye, Griffin."
With a huff he walked toward the door. His hand rested on the knob before he glanced back. The Bride stood exactly where she'd been before, she looked as though she wanted to ask something but didn't know how.
Griffin smiled again."I'll tell Ethel you said hello."
The Bride's face brightened immediately."Thank you."
He gave a little nod Then disappeared out the door letting Silence fill the room again.Several followers looked between themselves before glancing toward the Bride.
She was still smiling faintly. One hand rested unconsciously over the place beneath her ribs where something strange always fluttered whenever Ethel was mentioned.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♡ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
That night, the followers gathered for an important meeting as they called it. They sat around like it was dinner, but there was no food,
"You must understand, Bride, she's married."
The Bride frowned. "So?"
The room fell silent. She looked from face to face for an answer. “I am married."
"That's..." one of the older men rubbed the back of his neck. "Not the same."
The Bride's brow furrowed deeper. Marriage meant almost nothing to her; they made her for someone. called her a “Bride,” told her she was “married,” and then abandoned her within moments of her creation. What did marriage have to do with any of this?
One of Pretorius's followers sighed dramatically. “Bride."
"What?"
"You can't simply decide you like a married woman and expect to be with her."
"Why not?"
"Because marriage is an important union between two parties."
The Bride frowned, confused. “Ethel's marriage is not between two parties. She has two husbands. That's three parties. It used to be four, Griffin said so ” She argued
A follower covered their mouth, hiding their snickering as another spoke up
"I mean..." a blond man admitted, scratching his cheek. "Generally yes, you don't go after a married person. But with Ethel and her husbands ..." He shrugged. "We've all seen them. They’re not exactly traditional. They're all about that free-love business."
"Oh, don't start," someone groaned.
"They are! Griffin even said he'd ask Ethel if she'd be willing to set up a date-"
"No!” The older woman rose sharply from her chair at the head of the table. "No." The room quieted.
"She isn't ready."
"Margaret—" one began to argue
"Pretorius trusted us." She snapped. Her voice was firm now. "He told us to keep her safe; his last creation is our responsibility."
She pointed toward the Bride. "Sending her to these.. strangers because she's developed a fascination with one isn't protecting her."
"They aren't strangers-" the bride argued
"They are. You've only met her a handful of times. You only spoke to Griffin once, and that was today. You've never even met Larry"
“You're not going out to see her. You're not going to date her. End of discussion" The words echoed through the room.
The Bride stood so suddenly her chair scraped violently across the wooden floor making everyone turn.
Her throat was painfully tight, He. eyes stung in a way she didn't understand. No one spoke, She didn't either. Instead she turned, crossed the room long angry strides, and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
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A soft knock pulled her from restless sleep.
"Bride?"
She cracked the door open, Three of Pretorius's followers stood outside. The blond one grinned at her. "Get your shoes"
She blinked. "Why?"
"We're going out."
"...Where?"
His grin widened. "You're going to see Ethel."
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She was greeted by the smell before she crossed the threshold. It was thick with smoke, alcohol, perfume, and sweat. Laughter and music echoed through the crowded room.
Humans drinking alongside vampires. A werewolf argued with a female hound over a card game. Someone in the corner was singing loudly and badly.
The Bride stopped just inside the doorway. “you said we were seeing Ethel,”
“We are," one of the women laughed. "This is her pub."
The Bride looked around again. "...Humans gather here willingly?"
"For fun."
"Oh."
The Bride wandered through the bar until she saw her. Ethel stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled to her elbows, laughing as she polished a glass.
The moment she spotted the Bride, her entire face lit up. "There you are!"
The Bride felt that strange warmth bloom beneath her ribs again. She liked when Ethel looked at her that way.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♡ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Later, after the crowd had thinned, the three followers were “ shitfaced” as Ethel put it. They loudly sang a bar song with Ethel’s equally drunk husbands. Leaving her alone with Ethel, she sat close enough that the Bride could smell perfume clinging faintly to her clothes.
"Griffin said you missed me ," Ethel teased.
"I did."
“ I s'pose I'll just have to find some excuses to stop by every day," Ethel chuckled, nudging her with her shoulder.
The bride watched the way her mouth curved, how her lips moved when she spoke. Without thinking, As if some forgotten instinct pulled her forward till her lips met Ethel’s
The kiss felt strangely familiar. Even if the bride had never kissed anyone, whoever her head belonged to before her clearly had. Old muscle memory guided and, when Ethel kissed her back, soft, patient, Gentle. The Bride couldn't imagine living without this.