come_sailaway | But tonight is Hallowe'en and the faery folk ride

Giles is well aware of Ossie's presence in the kitchen. Or, well, he is now but only because he'd expected Ossie to be home and, having not found him in the expected places, has gone looking in the unexpected instead.

"Are you alright, my love?"

"Am I alright? Is there nothing wrong with this picture?"

Ossie grins, wide and unamused.

"Shall I make some tea while I'm in here? How about an entire pie? I'll just go about digging through the drawers for utensils and such. Spill some flour on the countertop while I'm at it."

He laughs, gripping tighter on the counter.

"It doesn't befit gentlemen to lie. Tell me who you are and what you've done to him."

Giles blinks, frowns and starts to take half a step back before he stops himself and holds firm instead.

"I'd really rather you didn't." He keeps his voice calm and even, testing the waters. "Perhaps you should come and sit down, I'll make you some tea."

He's just. Not going to respond to the question about his identity, no matter what he says it almost certainly wouldn't help with Ossie so distressed

"Oh so now you'd rather I didn't, and now you'll make the bloody tea yourself, but you're not dragging me out by the hair, are you?"

Ossie doesn't move from where he's rooted himself. Although the hearth seems to be burning a bit more merrily than usual.

"You left a crease in my grey pants the other morning. Your tea has tasted different, when you haven't suggested I make it. And, most importantly, you're a far worse and more selfish lover than he is. I know Giles like an extension of myself and you're a cheap, lousy imitation. Who are you?"

Fine.
Fine.
The jig is up, but how long was it going to last anyway?

"Oh darling. You have no idea." He grins, and it twists the face he's wearing weirdly, the laugh that accompanies it, high and grating as it is, only adds to the shattered illusion. "I'm an old friend."

"Do you want to know why I picked the kitchen, old chum?"

And with one hand behind his back, he texts Erin a string of nonsense letters.

Edited 2022-10-11 04:22 (UTC)

"Because the fucking blighter is such a fucking perfectionist with all his stupid little habits. It was the easiest tell, wasn't it darling?"

"Ooh, you're so bloody close. He is fastidious, isn't he? Keeps his knives lovely and sharp."

He pulls the kitchen knife from the block behind him and lunges.

Fuck. Should have seen that coming. Thankfully he's able to step out of the way before the knife can connect, dancing around it and...

Vanishes out of sight. Melding into shadows and just noping the fuck out.

Another reason why Ossie picked the kitchen?

Ossie knows what Giles is capable of. Including his little disappearing acts.

So he marches himself over to the pantry, grabs the flour, and throws the bag of it where Giles had been standing.

If the door hasn't opened, then Giles is still somewhere in the room, and he's not letting that bastard get the jump on him in his own fucking house.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Okay, Ossie's stepping away. He's cool right, he's gotten away with it. He can take a moment to breathe and then get the fuck out of dodge. It's fine, it's-

What the fuck

FLOUR???
REALLY????

Fine. Fine okay he looks like a fucking ghost ~~(hah)~~ now, but it's Fine. He'll just.
Bolt for the door.

"IN MY! FUCKING! HOUSE!"

Ossie snarls, looking for all the world like one of those slasher chappies out of a horror movie, hand outstretched is if to soothingly stroke the wall as he pursues leisurely behind not-Giles.

"Imitating him is one thing, but HERE?! The place we built together!? The FUCKING! AUDACITY!"

Ossie slams the door out of the kitchen open with his meagre strength, laughing.

"GET! OUT!"

It's almost like a game. A horrible, stressful, exhilarating game. He's really starting to understand what the Autumn chaps are on about. He can't stop himself from giggling in response to Ossie's laugh.

"Oh I'm leaving, Ossie darling, there's no need to worry your pretty little head about that"

Out of the kitchen the next goal is the front door, he can't slow down even if he is starting to have a bit of awful fun.

At the entrance to the Hollow, the knock rings out, and the door to the ship opens. The essence of the place shudders and roils; those coins that piled up in the corners now spill out of every open container in a fountain of gold and red, fresh blood. The Autumn trees bend, nearly breaking, and then their leaves snap into a bright and vibrant green. The wildflowers grow into something tangled and feral, beautiful and full of life and utterly out of control, their roots winding with thorny vines.

Erin has arrived.

"Where?" she snaps, and the Hollow answers; she follows its threads, dismissing Ossie when she realizes Giles is running away from him. Good. Whatever he is, he's still weak. Still a callow youngblood.

Her voice bellows out, echoing beyond all reason, cracking the windows like so much sugar glass: "STAND AND DELIVER!"

The floor under Giles ripples and turns into sucking mud, thick and greedy; from that mud reach hands of splintered wood that snatch and grab. The front door slams open on its own, revealing Erin advancing on it. Her face is a mask of world-slaying hate, naked and raw.

She gestures, and the thorny vines from outside invade the cottage, lunging for Giles.

Ossie screams when the windows shatter, nearly dropping the knife. But he knows that melodious voice, and the effect of her presence on the cottage is one he's at least familiar with now, even before she appears in the doorway. He barks out a harsh laugh, too wild with abandon to even consider the damage being done to his home. His deepest desire is to see this bastard ruined for this.

"Call me darling again, I bloody well dare you!" he calls...

... from the other side of the room.

He's done his part trying to scare this menace out of his house, it's out of his hands now.

Giles, too, screams as the windows shatter. If he hadn't already vanished, he'd be doing it right fucking now.

The stress is starting to get to him. It feels like a white hot poker against his brain, trying to tear him apart but good GOD does he feel ALIVE.

"Darling darling daaaaarling, you never did like it when I called you that did you Ossie darling?" he sing-songs, still trying get out, but the mud and the vines are hard to avoid he doesn't manage to evade their grasp. Still, he can keep jabbing with his tongue even if he can't manage the physical, "Delightful choice of muscle you've got. Quite the upgrade from the little werewolf boy you used to use."

Aand he's properly visible again now, because thems are fighting words, but it's Fine. The flour had made that useless anyhow.

Edited 2022-10-11 05:42 (UTC)

The thorns bite deep as they wind their way around Giles' arms, pulling them wide apart, and the grasping hands beneath him seize his ankles until he hangs, spread-eagled, above the muddy slurry. Erin halts inside the front door and debates sealing the entrance to the Hollow, but...no. Better not to give whatever this is no options other than to hurt Ossie.

(A distant voice in her mind tells her that she wouldn't have cared about Ossie getting hurt if she hadn't let herself become soft. She crushes it, snarling out loud like the world's most musical beast.)

"Ossie," Erin calls out. "Tell me you're alive, buddy, because if I don't get an answer I'm gonna dismember this vermin and finally get that sweet hit of recreational murder I've been jonesing for."

"Whole, alive, and well, I'm afraid. Not that this bastard put up much of a fight- and where the bally hell would we get a werewolf from?"

He asks, genuinely curious.

"Whatever you're going to do, not in here. I want him out. Now."

"You're gonna want to think before you confirm that desire, Ossie. Once I throw him out the only options I have will all turn him into a fine fucking paste, and I've met enough Hedge parasites and incubi to suspect that your guest here might be using Giles' body." Erin's tone is all business, the melody of her voice the drum-beat of war. "If you make me throw him out I'm just gonna kill him in the hall, and if Giles is still in there I don't want to hear either of you bitching that I murdered him."

"America, darling" is the answer, almost over the top of Erin talking. Because he really can't help himself. Even strung up like the christmas pudding he can't fucking help himself.

He writhes a bit against the vines, trying to wriggle out of them in any way he can. Tears prick at his eyes, but it's honestly not as bad as he was expecting. This body was built to serve, and almost as much to protect. It can take a lot more pain than his old one ever could.

"And I'm not a fucking Hedge parasite"

So, mask off: "Sharky" is getting real sick and tired of these douchebags makin' everything so goddamn complicated. All they gotta do is lay low, but NO! Obviously, they can't even do that right! That just fuckin' figures, honestly, ya extend an invitation out ta people and they just stomp right over all yer hospitality!

Mask on: Sharky is supes hella worried about his bros with benefits in their supes cute lil'... house or whatever. Ugh. Exhausting, honestly, fuckin' dumb and upbeat all the time. Sharky doesn't even have anything to be fuckin' happy about, other than a massive dick and plenty of tail to stick it in!!!! Well, FUCK him. This is THIS GUY'S house now! Anyway.

Sharky, the picture of oblivious geniality, opens the door, steps through to the totally not weird and definitely normal cottage --

And immediately is just like, "What the fuck????" Because, seriously, what the fuck is up with fairy bullshit??!!!

The autumnal trees are burgeoning with green leaves. Ossie's pleasantly wild front yard looks like it's been abandoned after Spring rain.

Ossie's long ears twitch to feel someone else enter, and he makes his way over to the front windows to see-

"Oh Christ- one moment Erin- keep him there won't you?"

With a complete disregard for his own safety Ossie vaults out the window, stumbling through the landing, and immediately hurriedly makes his way over to Sharky.

"Sharky! Bad time, my dear fellow! Please- we're just having a little- er- difficulty with the house- come back say tomorrow and we'll be happy to host you as always-" he says absolutely trying to direct the fellow back to the gate with some spirited hand gestures.

"You got it," Erin agrees in a lilting snarl. Her attention goes to Giles. "Still leaves a lot of options, vermin. I'm not going to threaten you. Threats are for when you don't want to use the option you're putting on the table, and believe me, I'm so fucking wet to just go apeshit right now. Provide me a reason not to."

Here come the waterworks. He sniffles, pouts, and whimpers a little. The tears hurt as they flow, especially with all the blood rushing to his head from being upside down for too long.

"Please, please you have no idea what it's like. It's not- it's worse. You think you know- you think you've been through the worst thing anyone can ever go through but you haven't. I can't- I can't go back to that. I cannot- If I had another choice don't you think I wouldn't take it? I had to try. Please."

"You're begging the wrong Lost, buddy. Those who turn on their fellow victims are the lowest scum of this Earth or any other. I should know. It was my fucking job."

Erin's hand clenches; the grasping hands crawl up further, becoming a form-fitting wooden tomb. "It sounds like you're using some memories that aren't yours. Has Giles ever really seen what happens when you become more fey than mortal? I bet he hasn't. He and Ossie play at being old hands but they're youngbloods, frail embers blown by the winds of fate. You can feel it, can't you?"

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