* Ic : An Escaped Child Threatens Everything. ) - Tumblr Posts

* ⚓️ ... “ wait. did you hear that ? ” / sparky :) —@ithas.

“ mhm. ” a raspy shhh followed as she took one step back, her body following suit in an exaggerated lean to peer around a corner, down one of the many halls the students called a second home ( or, if you're six, just home. )

was sneaking around with an armful of supplies she'd helped smuggle from the mad science lab how six expected to spend the day ? no, but she wasn't complaining ; mischief seemed to always find its way back to her, and sparky had said they needed it for something complicated and kinda gross that she didn't fully understand, so if they needed it then it's simple ! go and get it, and besides, who said being thick as thieves had to be metaphorical anyway ?

“ s'all clear. ” she says once she's confident there's not a soul in sight to catch them leaving the scene of the crime. adjusting their grip on the books held tightly in both hands —— all kinds of equipment they didn't know the purpose of balanced precariously on top —— six then settled into rocking comfortably on their heels. “ hey, what do i - i get out of this ? ”

question prompts, accepting.

* ⚓️ ... “ can i ask… what happened? ” —@antigodeus.

she sniffed, screwing her nose up like she'd smelled something rotten. there's a ache lodged in her ribs, the bone felt tender, like they'd crack if she pressed too hard as slight arms wrapped 'round her chest. she doesn't lift her head, no one could risk a glance under the splotch of color her hood made if she didn't look up, no one could see her brows creased with unease and crooked teeth anxiously chewing her lip ; looking for something to bite.

no, you can't. she wants to say, but the words splinter in her throat, like fragile marrow cracking between jaws. what comes out instead is: “ you can. ” not a permission granted, merely a fact stated, you can but i don't have to answer.

question prompts, accepting.

up to her ? though hidden by the near - impossible darkness of her hood, a hesitant smile, all teeth, slowly creeped its way across her face. a part of her, greedy and a little too brash, wanted to rush in and claim whatever she's decided she's owed now —— but what good would that do her ? if she kept it in her pocket for safekeeping, who knows when it'd end up coming in handy, and she did always consider herself a crafty little thing, full of tricks up her sleeves. it's with this thought that she nodded hard enough to jostle that hood out of place, juuust slightly.

“ i'll um ... i'll remember it for later. ” she says it almost smugly, pleased with her decision like it's something grand, something much bigger than her small stature. sparky was brainy after all, at least they understand more book - stuff than six did, that's something to hold onto for later indeed ! once more readjusting her grip on their contraband to tuck it closer to her chest, she then resumed her trek. “ and i don't know what a tab is anyway. ”

a beat. “ it's nothin' to d - do with komos, is it ? he's ... gross. ” a gross understatement more like. driven by appetite as she was, six still make an effort to avoid the coffin bean when anyone but deuce was there, especially if it was komos. he had a special place on her list. sure, sparkly knew a lot she didn't, not to mention how the different ways their minds ticked could clash sometimes, but she was pretty sure that wishing he'd fall down a well was universal. in fact, she quietly concluded that if you've got a head like sparky's, you have to wish he'd fall down a —— well, you get the idea.

“ ah, good ... the last time I attempted this on my own, the literature teacher caught me and gave me a week's worth of detention. that is hours of sitting silently in a room that one could dedicate to science, six. ” they peered around the corner, double checking to be sure it was clear — though they trusted six's instincts, they really did not wish to get detention again. aside from how irksome they found the idleness, they were quite weary of having to see kieren valentine's face. though, sparky supposed that was not as loathsome as having to see komos' face every time they passed by the coffin bean. how has that man not be banned from school campus ? “ in return, I can pay off your tab at the coffin bean, or do your homework. I am a genius in all aspects, so any subject is open to that offer. ” they glanced down at them, to be certain they were not close to dropping any of the delicate equipment they were holding. they made a mental note to interview her on what dwarfism was like at some point “ or I shall simply owe you a favor, that you may claim whenever you may require it. it, my friend, is up to you ! ”

up here, where the sun shines through the maw's main entrance, she can breathe in the ocean breeze awaiting her, even if only for a moment. it's freshness stings in er lungs, already having grown so accustomed to the maw's insulated air, heavy with the stench of metal and the blood of those before her, but it's a reminder ; a reminder that she's so close ─── that she's not going to die down there, not in the dark nor on their cutting boards, she's going to make it.

but as hopeful of a reminder it is, it is also one of caution. she can't afford to fail now, and six was far too young when she first learned that anything could happen, that monsters were relentless.

each step taken is slow and mindful. mindful of the guests marching below her, of how easy it'd be to slip on the damp metal, of how hard the impact would be if she fell. but once she's followed the maw's livestock to a creaky old stairway, none of this is what causes her to come to a halt, frozen like a spooked deer. when you've experienced as much as six has, you learn to know what being watched feels like. and when she slowly lifts her head to meet whatever's spotted her, she can't help but feel as if she already knew what she would see.

the blurry shape of a woman, one she thinks she dreamed about before. and so, still ever - so - still, six takes a breath, and holds it. waiting.

@devouraes liked for a starter 。

Overseeing the group of Guests climing into the Maw had become a yearly practice for the Lady. Not one she is particularly enthusiastic about － she'd rather the Maw return under the surface as soon as possible － yet absolutely necessary.

Normally it would go by rather slowly: uneventful was the right term to describe it. Rightfully so, even if it comes as a detriment to the spending of her precious time.

Until a faraway golden twinkle catches her eye.

ever since they approached her, six has watched the stranger's hands, not their face ; raised as if to say trust me, i don't claw or snatch or squeeze, trust me ! if there was one thing she'd learned about monsters in all of her short life, it was that they often do not lie. she wasn't worth it to them, and it was better like this.

yet six had also learned to never let herself settle into routine, as much as she longed for the simplicity of it, the privilege to have it at all. but there were always exceptions to the rules, and many of them weren't fair in the first place. so with her breath caught as a lump in her throat and hair stuck to her face from a cold sweat, six watches only their hands──

──until her sharp gaze is redirected to a bag at their side. she'd seen it earlier, or at least, she made a note of it somewhere in the back of her mind. a distant thing, now her sole focus, like it was something waiting to lurch out and bite her. she almost breathes out when they reveal its contents, emphasis on almost. while nothing screamed hurt to them, something else came to mind in it's place ;

bait.

they're a stubborn little thing, too much so, too much for a frame as gaunt as hers to hold. hooded head jerks up to look not directly at them, but instead the open air behind them, thin digits fisting in the front of her coat. if she ran now, she could escape into the night, find solace in the shadows. remember, in the light, everyone can see you.

yet six can't will her willowy legs to break into a sprint, let alone take one small step, as if they were anchored in place by ... something. she doesn't want to think much about what the stranger has asked her, in that too - kind voice of theirs that she wants to call cruel, but what wells up and tumbles from her lips is spilling out like blood before she can think : “ you will. ”

there is something about this child that micah can not place on what it is they can sense a strong link to, even when they just met her in the cold, dead night. the sharp silence, cutting cautiousness, all of this from a girl who seems to know so much more about surviving than living. micah wants to see their child self, find if it's anything they can relate to her, yet, their bruised body forces them to remember the stars and darkness and their forming love for them. micah's hands has been raised since meeting the girl, not wanting her to firmly believe they are a threat.

“ ...did someone or something hurt you? ” micah asks her this, then. they do not expect much details, just a someone or something, because it at least gives them a solid idea of what or who could be responsible for her injuries so they can handle them effectively. but either she answers or not, they slowly lean over to their bag that rests near their feet and open it, reveal the medical supplies. “ if you can let me patch you up, i'd be grateful. unless you know how to do it, then you're welcome to use them on your own, ” they offer, their voice soft, trying to hold her lonely aching.

“ i only wish to help you. ”

like a thief caught with their hands all red, she stands tensed, breath caught in her throat, braced ; waiting. for the slightest glint of a hungry set of teeth, for the signal to turn on her heel and throw that too - small body into a sprint. ( a little distantly, she recalls one of her masks, smooth and white and carved in the shape of a pointy snout. she'd wish to have it with her now, if wishing was something she could afford. ) but the snapping of those jaws doesn't yet come, and so, there she stays rooted in place. her own eyes narrow up at the stranger, distrusting and dark as a storm cloud.

“ where... ” a brief glance to the raised hand, and now her own nose scrunches up, as if she tasted something sour. “ ...where is here ? ”

a thought : she doesn't look like a monster. / another : the worst ones don't.

　𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. three foxes have gathered around the little intruder, sniffing and smelling in a quite evident attempt at assessing who and what she is [ ... ] and yet, no harm shall be bestowed 'pon the other. the vixen crouches downwards, the gleam of raw curiosity bright in the depth of golden eyes ; a claw - tipped hand is slowly given in benign offering. ❝ did they scare you ? don't worry, you're safe here. ❞

˳⁺⁎˚ ♡ ⁀➷ starter call , @devouraes .

THE KITCHENS WERE STIFLING IN THEIR HUMIDITY ; the air was heavy here, with sweat and steam as the cooks toiled away up ahead, beyond these rooms where the only company to be found was in fresh meat, awaiting its turn at the chopping block. or the rats. like the one that now lay before her, it's brown fur matted with the same black - red blood that drip, drip, dripped down her chin in little rivulets. ( she was hungry. ) it sank like an anchor in her stomach, the knowledge that for all their labor, for how bountiful the maw's feast would be, it would not be for her. this is all that she was alloted, what few scraps a child unwanted could hope for. raw offal, consumed alone, in the dark.

or at least, she was almost alone. almost.

a bright speck of sunshine - yellow, out of place here in the deep blue sea, sits crouched on the dirty floor ; bony knees pulled tight against her chest, sticky little fingers holding them tight enough to leave dents in her skin, expression unreadable as she cranes over her shoulder to stare at . . . she doesn't know what she's staring at, only that it's been there since ── since. . .

“ don't─ don't─ ” the words come out stumbling, clumsy as they die on her tongue. don't what ? watch her anymore ? she's not sure, all six can be certain of is that it makes her uneasy, like an undercurrent of seasickness.

▌ @musesofthesun. * ⚓️.

THE CRACK OF THE HUNTER'S GUN still rang in her ears, the echo of it's death knell drowning out the gentle waves of the shore ahead of them, even as its owner's body lay cooling in the underbrush ; a soon - to - be feast for the blackbirds that called the woodland home ── if they hadn't all been frightened away by now. six couldn't be certain what would happen to his remains, and she couldn't care either. all that mattered now was getting as far away as she could . . . as they could, she thinks, a little absent-mindedly as gray eyes shift to fix the boy with a sidelong stare.

the boy had terrified her, even if the memory of wood splintering under an axe's gleaming blade began to drift to the back of her mind, submerged 'neath the now - waning adrenaline of their escape. the boy had helped her too, waited for her as they raced through the tall grass, held her hand as they snuck over and under tree roots, pulled the trigger when that monster had reared his ugly head through the shed door . . . and therein lies something else six couldn't be sure what she thought of. all she knew was that there was only going forwards.

a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver through her small frame as she clutches at her worn old jumper's sleeves, and still she stares. she can't see his eyes from here, beneath the paper bag fixed over his head. she wishes she could. maybe then she'd know what he thinks, what braving the hunter's cabin and the land beyond it meant to him.

finally, she tears her gaze away to glance behind them, at the shed with it's broken door, the only thing that had spared them the sight of dark blood splattered across the grass and dirt. when she speaks her voice is dry and rasping and just as small as she is.

“ he deserved it. ”

▌ @bravest. * ⚓️.

she's sat across from them, a little drop of yellow with her legs criss - crossed in the dirt, thin fingers fluttering between sifting through the soil below and lightly tugging at the hem of her coat ; an idle habit, one carried over from fidgeting with her old jumper's loose strings. it's one of those few things in her world that makes any sense, having something to do with her hands. “ um─ it's not my story, a . . . boy told it to me. ” she never learned his name, only that he wore orange and had frizzy dark hair. but that was the grim norm of her world, most children didn't have names to give. all the more reason her nose wrinkles up in the slightest amusement at the nickname. it's strange, but not . . . bad. at least, she hoped not. “ but he─ here, let me . . . ”

small hand snatches up a stick, pressing it's pointed end into the dirt to slowly, slooowly draw an anchor's shape, tongue pinched between her sharp teeth in concentration. “ he said that, where─ where he comes from, they have charms shaped like this. they're s'pposed to be for um . . . for good luck. to keep you safe from a monster in the wind. it─ i-it didn't work. ”

she turns to face them, stormy gray eyes hidden under poorly cut bangs. she doesn't know what to call micah, where to slot them in her understanding of the world. six only knew that they're not a monster, but that raises the question of if you're not a monster, what are you ? “ do . . . do you believe in that ? good luck charms ? that, a . . . a something could keep you safe ? ”

I TILT MY HEAD OUT OF SOFT WONDER when you ask me this one night : “ haven’t you heard the stories ? ” a shake is given in response, although curiosity is bright across the heterochromic eyes. you are a child of strange and wonderful things, feral sunshine. i may not know much of your world, but i am content to learn more about both of its beauty and horrors if i must. “ you're asking a storyteller, six stars, ” i say with a warm smile, giggling at your nickname that'll always tickle me, “ but i don't think i'm familiar with them . . . care to tell me a tale or two ? i'd love to hear them ! ” i do hope what @devouraes can share to me won't be too terrifying . . .

@vulpesse sent a message in a bottle . . . do you like flowers ? do you have a favorite one ? we could grow it together, in a tiny but colorful pot, so it will always be here whenever you come back.

whenever she comes back ?

it's a statement that sinks into the core of her like a stone dropped into the sea, anchoring her feet to where they've been planted in the warm grass, and for all her cleverness, six finds herself in a daze. a child on the run is she / a child forever roaming, tethered to nowhere expect for someplace far, far away. someplace she's not sure she'll ever find again, its memory slippery in her grip, cloudy like old weathered glass. a little lost thing who would return to nothing, ever - marching forward ── yet here she finds an offering made, not a lure waiting to snare her in its grasp, but a flower. something that doesn't grow where the child in yellow has wandered from.

and she can come back for it.

she blinks up at ahri once, twice, a slow and curious gesture. her mouth opens to say something, the faintest hint of sharpened canines peaking out, but hesitantly closes it not long after. her features do little to portray it, but six all but wracks her mind for what she could call a favorite before answering─

“ can . . . can it be a dandelion ? ”