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[Edema Rue she/her]

1 hour ago, kajsa said:

GUYS I FINALLY FINISHED CHAPTER TWO

that thing was a MONSTER 

(it’s only 12 pages but dude slugging my way through that editing was awful )

ENJOY

(also i haven’t read this whole thing through after editing so i apologize if it makes no sense lol)

@Through The Living Glass @Edema Rue

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TWO

 

 

 

 

Kiesha slipped her punch card into its slot and made her way over to her workspace, tightening her apron around her waist. Six forty AM. Stifling a yawn, she produced the same baby blue fabric as always from the wooden crate underneath the table, as well as a spool of thread, heavy steel scissors, and her pincushion, trying to ignore the incessant throbbing in her hand. 

Morning light, tinted golden by the sunrise, streamed in through the windows high in the factory walls. They sat just above the walkway the foreman often occupied, large and clean, and they were sometimes propped open during the hot seasons. In here, though, it always seemed to be hot.

Kiesha drew a length of thread from the spool and cut it.

The factory was mostly empty, and quiet. Many of the workers wouldn’t arrive for a while longer. They all had families and children to get taken care of before they could leave to work. Kiesha was grateful she only had Zack to worry about. 

He’d been mellower this morning, quieter and a bit subdued. She’d changed his bandages and made sure he had something to eat before she left, and he’d seemed satisfied enough. 

She threaded the needle, which was made unnecessarily difficult by the tremors in her injured hand. She grit her teeth, half against the pain and half in frustration, then began to stitch along the seam she’d pinned last night. 

Light spilled onto her desk and scattered across the blue fabric under her hands, warming the soft weave of sky. 

Skirts rustled as women entered and passed by her, settling at their work tables and drawing out their own tools. 

Little by little, the factory filled up with life. 

Kiesha’s hand throbbed in time with the clock as she pushed and pulled the needle through her work, and she was so focused on ignoring the pain that she didn’t hear the voice next to her. Not until a soft hand laid itself on her shoulder did she jump and glance up.

The war widow’s soft face looked down at her, framed by small blonde wisps of hair. She pulled her hand away carefully and motioned to Kiesha’s hand. “What’d you do to it?”

“I…” she glanced away. “I was cooking. My knife got wet and slipped right out of my hand,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. She looked around, as if searching for the foreman. 

The widow frowned. “Did you go to a doctor?”

Kiesha shook her head. “W-we’ve got a kit. I stitched it up on my own.”

“Do y–”

“I’m fine,” Kiesha said, squaring her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to be in this woman’s debt. “But thank you.”

“Well… if I can—”

“Thank you.”

The widow studied Kiesha, then nodded, sighed, and moved away. 

Silence fell again as time crawled slowly on by. Kiesha glanced up at the large clock on the far wall, set into the building below the foreman’s balcony. Six fifty-seven. The briefing would start any minute now. 

She turned back to her work. 

Just a few moments later, the foreman’s voice sliced through the factory silence. All eyes lifted up to the balcony. 

“Good morning, ladies. Today is going to be a little different. The head of department has an announcement for you. Mr. Livingston.” He nodded to a small, well-dressed man next to him wearing a top hat and a pocket watch. 

Mr. Livingston stepped forward. “Hello, girls. As we move into winter, it’s only natural for us to get more young ladies looking for work. However, as there isn’t any room for new employees, we’ve decided to run an observation. Over the next two weeks, additional overseers will be placed in your department. They’ll inspect your quality and quantity of work, note your hours, and ultimately decide who will be leaving and who will be moving to another department. I recommend you all be on your best behavior, because there will be many of you who must go.”

There was silence. 

“Do we understand each other?” Mr. Livingston prompted, apparently fishing for an answer. 

The women assented with murmurs of “yes sir”. 

“Good,” he said, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Please turn to Mr. Slicker if you have questions or concerns.”

The foreman smirked as Mr. Livingston turned and walked away. Then he scowled at the women and clapped his hands. “GET TO WORK!”

His voice echoed throughout the room, and a sudden rush of movement followed—swishing fabric, the clatter of scissors against wooden desks, the drawing of thread from fresh spools. 

The foreman leaned against the balcony railing, and several men with small pocketbooks and pencils filtered through the door, each occupying a row of tables. 

Kiesha bowed her head as she worked, her usually efficient hands hesitant and sluggish. The bandage was thick and hard to work around, and the pain. It was as if the glass was still lodged in her palm, tearing at her flesh anew with each small movement. Her vision was hot and hazy from tears, and it became difficult to stitch in straight lines. She cursed herself for not having listened to Zack. 

You fool, she swore. You absolute fool. 

She wouldn’t have been half so hurt if she’d just listened to him in the first place. She’d still be able to work. 

A man passed by, paused to appraise her work, scribbled something down in his pocketbook, and continued on. Her face flushed with heat. 

I promise I can work, she wanted to scream. I promise I can do it. Please don’t let me go. I need this job. I need the money.

Instead, she remained quiet and dutiful, stitching away at the sky-born swatches of cotton. 

 

—

 

The hours passed slowly. They dragged and dragged and dragged, until Kiesha was numb to the pain and her sewing came back to her. She thought vaguely of home, of the bread she needed to make that night, and of how Zack had been saving up to take her to the fall festival over the weekend. Only when the dinner bell rang did she jolt out of her trance, shaking out the stiffness in her knuckles and massaging the sore muscles in her arm. &nbsp

The workers had twenty minutes to eat before they returned to work. 

Women tied off their threads, folded up the garments, tucked them under their desks, and from their bags brought out hard black bread, coarse cheese, and even dried fruit, wrapped in old newspapers. 

Kiesha realized dully she’d forgotten to pack her own food, but she was so used to living on empty already that it hardly mattered. Besides, this could be a good time to check on her hand. 

She pulled her satchel out from underneath her desk, rummaging inside it to make sure she had everything before standing and making her way over to the washroom. They were lucky enough to have a pump sink, and the separate room would offer some privacy. 

Crossing to the bench on the far wall, she sat and unwrapped her hand, wincing at the way her skin tugged from the blood that had dried onto the bandage. Fresh blood spattered her hand, and she closed her eyes against nausea. 

The thread had broken. She’d have to do it all over again. 

Just another reason why you should have trusted him, she thought, opening her eyes again to wet the bandage in the sink and mop up the blood. Don’t you ever question him. Never again.

The skin around the wound had turned purple and green, tender to the touch and more painful the closer it got to the laceration. Stars, this was going to hurt. 

As she reached to pull the rest of the stitches out, the door behind her creaked, and as she whirled around to see who it was, she nearly slammed straight into the foreman’s chest. He clamped a hand over her mouth, making it even harder to breathe than it already was, and she thrashed. His dark hair fell over his darker eyes, which were gleaming with sick excitement, and his breath was stale. She tried to wrench away. 

“Shh,” he snapped, snatching her hand. “Stop it.” He pressed on the cut, where the flesh was broken. Blood seeped from the wound and dripped onto the floor.

Kiesha cried out against his hand, little black spots peppering her vision. Tears formed in her eyes, and she felt the fight leave her body.

“You need help with those stitches, Ebersol?”

She shook her head, hard, but he just pressed harder on the wound. Her knees nearly buckled from the pressure in her head, and she whimpered against his dirty, smothering hand.

“That’s what I thought,” he hissed, forcing her to turn and face away from him. “You’re not gonna make a sound, you understand me? No paycheck for the tattlers.”

Kiesha hardly heard what he’d said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way out of this as the foreman started yanking on the ties of her apron. She had to brace herself against the wall to keep from stumbling and falling over.

She couldn’t hit him. She wasn’t strong enough to do the damage she needed if she wanted to escape. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t just try to run. He’d surely hurt her if she tried. She needed to wound him—but how, she didn’t know. 

And she couldn’t cry for help. 

Nobody would come—every girl in this godforsaken place knew not to mess with the foreman’s affairs if she wanted to keep her job. And here, nobody could afford to lose theirs. These were the hopeless, the lonely, the quiet sufferers at the mercy of man and the mercy of God.

Nobody would come. Besides, the foreman didn’t take well to criers. 

Her apron hit the floor with a dull thud, and she felt the back of her dress rip open. Tears flowed faster down her face as he worked her out of the dingy blue fabric and forced her back to face him. As she turned, though, something came to her.

The needle. Of course. If she could just get to it! But her bag was several feet away on the bench, too far to reach…

The foreman reached out and grabbed Kiesha’s waist in his hands, tore off her jump, and pushed her back toward the wall–or tried. She let her knees crumple under her, and she landed right on the bench. Her hand searched blindly for the strap of her bag, and she nearly grabbed it right as he slapped her with terrible force. 

“Get up,” he growled.

“I have weak knees,” she lied, voice trembling. She closed her hand around the strap of her bag. “Th-that’s why I take so many breaks…”

He frowned, scowling at her. His dark eyes searched her pale ones, an abyss of hatred and loathing trying to read her soul. “I said get up.”

She managed to stand–her knees really did feel weak–and he lunged, pushing her into the wall. His face was just breaths away, and his hands were closing around her shift, ready to tear, and suddenly, she knew where to hurt him. 

At the same time the neck of her chemise ripped, he leaned forward and kissed her, harsh and hard, so hard it hurt. Her hands trembled as they moved through her bag slowly, deliberately, trying not to go too fast. What would he do if he caught her?

Something pricked her, and she jumped. The needle! Her hand closed around it, but the foreman grabbed her arm.

Kiesha’s heart stopped. She froze, the hairs on her neck raising.

The foreman pulled back from her, forcing her hand up out of the satchel. His eyes immediately locked on the needle, which was trembling between Kiesha’s fingers. 

He sneered at her. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“N-nothing!” She tried to wrench away, to no avail. Her breaths felt shallow as she thrashed. 

Suddenly, her feet were swept from beneath her, and she hit the ground with a tremendous force. The air was forced from her lungs, and as the foreman’s hand closed around her throat, she was unable to draw another breath. The needle clinked against the stone floor, and she scrambled for it, but before she could reach it, his weight loomed over her, threatening to drop and crush her at any moment. His face came within inches of her, and he sneered. &nbsp

“You don’t ever threaten me,” he growled. “Ever. Are we clear?”

“I—I…” Kiesha scraped, gasping uselessly for air like a fish out of water. She clawed at his hand and kicked, trying to get him off her. She could feel the blood pooling in her veins, cut off by his hand, threatening to burst if she didn’t breathe. 

His hand tightened, and her vision spotted. Her head spun, spun, spun, sight getting darker and darker and darker until suddenly air flooded back into her, burning, but she gulped it down anyway, heedless of the pain.

“Glad we understand each other,” he growled. His hands reached for the torn neck of her chemise, and panic struck her in the stomach. She couldn’t let him do this to her! She couldn’t let this happen!

Her mind raced, and she put her hands up in a desperate plea for mercy. Blood from her hand dripped down onto her lip. She closed her eyes as she felt her chemise tear farther, down past her ribcage…

And then an idea occurred to her.

Before she could hardly think, she’d smashed her wounded hand against one of his eyes, rubbing the blood into it, and he started yelling, and she reached for the needle with her other hand, and she felt the thin splinter of metal against her fingers, and she grasped for it, pushing harder against his face as his hands once again found her neck, and then the needle had speared itself through one of his terrible black eyes. Blood spurted from the wound, and he jerked away, howling in pain. He rolled off her, clutching his damaged eye.

Stomach churning, Kiesha scrambled to her feet and lunged for her work dress, holding it to her chest as she bolted for the door.

The foreman was still screaming and yowling, rolling on the ground, blood-stained hands covering his wounded eye. 

She reached for the knob, but it flung open before she could get out.

She sucked in a breath. Stars! 

A tall, middle-aged man stood in the doorway, wearing expensive clothes and expensive spectacles. His face was panicked, but it hardened when he saw her. 

The department manager.

Her heart sank. Stars, she was in deep trouble. 

“What’s going on here?” He demanded, pushing past her to see the foreman stumbling to his feet. He clutched the edge of the sink with one hand, the other trembling one trying to find and extract the needle. Blood dribbled down his face, and the manager’s face purpled. He whirled on Kiesha.

The blood drained from her face as she stammered, “I–he—I was in here to fix my hand, and—and he came in, and–and, well, I—he tried to–so I stabbed him with the needle, I had to—”

“Liar,” the foreman spat. The sink water was slowly staining red, drop by drop. “This whore was in here waiting for me! She attacked me!”

Angry tears streamed down Kiesha’s face, and then she dropped her dress and really did attack the foreman, punching and scratching and screaming horrible things at him. His fist struck her brow in retaliation, and she stumbled back, seeing stars. The manager caught her and hauled her away from the foreman, restraining her. She kicked and fought, still screaming at the foreman, who was stumbling and swaying.

The manager grabbed Kiesha’s work dress off the floor, shoved it into her arms, and ordered her to wait in his office. She blinked at him, and slowly, the adrenaline and rage faded into shame, and her breathing slowed down. She bowed her head and nodded, then held her shredded dress to her chest and made her way out of the washroom.

There was a different kind of silence in the main workspace, and several young women stared at Kiesha with wide, curious eyes. 

Her face flushed, hot with embarrassment and shame, and she fled upstairs to the manager’s office, waiting anxiously. There was a nameplate on his desk that read Charles Livingston.

Books lined the walls, save for one of them, on which was hung a large cork board with all kinds of papers hung up. Some were lists or little notes and reminders, but most were drawings and sketches of the establishment. She hadn’t realized he was an architect.

The door opened, and Kiesha flinched, but it wasn’t Charles.

It was the blonde war widow. She held a needle and thread in her hands, as well as a roll of bandages.

Tears welled up in Kiesha’s eyes as the widow gently pulled the tattered dress from her arms and set it down on a stool. She threaded the needle and quietly started to stitch the front of Kiesha’s chemise, having handed her the bandages. Kiesha started to wrap her damaged hand. She’d lost the stomach for stitches; she couldn’t do it anymore. Not now.

“You’re very brave,” the widow eventually whispered, eyes focused on the tear she was repairing.

Kiesha looked away. “...not very. I… I was terrified.”

“That makes you all the braver.”

“.............thank you,” she whispered.

The widow smiled. She finished mending Kiesha’s chemise, then moved to her dress. She held it up and frowned. The entire back was torn straight down, and she bunched it up. “I’ll be right back.”

Kiesha nodded, watching her go. 

Her gaze fell back down to Charles’ gold nameplate, and she wrapped her arms around her barely-clothed body. Tears slipped down her face. It wasn’t fair. All she wanted was to keep her job so she could have money to send home. She just wanted–no, needed–to save her twin brother. Why did it have to be so hard?

After a while, the widow returned, brushing blonde tendrils of hair away from her face. She carried a new work dress with her, probably one she’d made. Kiesha’s stomach churned as she handed over the bundle of baby blue linen.

“You don’t have to help me,” Kiesha whispered, staring down at the dress.

“I know,” she responded softly. “But I’d like to.”

Her eyes glistened, and she nodded. “Thank you, um…” 

She looked up at the widow, realizing she didn’t know her name.

“Bella. I’m Bella.”

Kiesha smiled. “Thank you, Bella.”

Bella just smiled at her, her soft face shining even in the dim office, the only source of light the window on the far wall. Then, she took a deep breath. “My shift is over. I’ll see you later, Kiesha.”

She was gone before Kiesha could ask how she knew her name.

 

—

 

Kiesha waited for nearly half an hour, noticing small things about the department manager’s office, before he appeared, spattered with the foreman’s blood, his clothes and hair rumpled. His hat was nowhere to be seen, and he looked solemn. Kiesha swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.

He motioned for her to sit at the stool in front of his desk, and he took his place in his chair across from her. He folded his hands on top of his desk and appraised her through polished spectacles. 

“Miss Ebersol… you’ve been working here a long time. I think it’s strange you’ve never moved up in the world—you work long shifts, and you’re a good employee. Skilled. Thorough. But… I’m afraid I’ve been enlightened.” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. 

Kiesha blinked, and when he didn’t continue, swallowed “Sir?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just examined her through those shiny, expensive glasses. She probably wouldn’t have been able to afford something like them with an entire month’s wages. Bitterness swirled in her chest, bubbling under her ribs.

He sighed. “I’d rather not spell it out for you. I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Livingston. I don’t—see, it’s my brother. My twin brother. He got in an accident a year ago, and he’s been in the hospital ever since. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s really very expensive, and I have eight other siblings, and my parents’ jobs aren’t bringing in hardly any money, see, and I’ve got rent to pay, and at the end of the day I’ve got nothing at all.”

“A completely logical reason for a girl like you to turn to your line of work,” he assured her. “I’m not judging you, Miss Ebersol. How long have you been working in that industry?”

“What industry?”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then he cleared his throat. “Mr. Slicker… he told me—why, he said you had a second job. One that… you work at night.”

Kiesha stared at him, incredulous.

“So,” Livingston continued, “I’ll ask you again, now that we seem to be on the same page. How long have you been working in your industry?”

“I–why, I haven’t,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it, Mr. Livingston.”

“Then why were you waiting in the washroom for Mr. Slicker, Kiesha?”

“W–I wasn’t waiting for him. I went in there because… see, my hand.” She set her bandaged hand on the desk for him to see. “I had an accident at home, and I was going to change the bandages under the water when the foreman–”

“Mr. Slicker.”

“–came inside and threatened me. He hurt me and… and he said if I tried to scream, he’d take my money, and I can’t afford that, Mr. Livingston—I need that money for my family and my brother, and I have to pay my rent, and I don’t have anywhere else to go if I can’t pay, and—”

“Miss Ebersol. I understand. Get back to your story, please.”

Kiesha took a deep breath, nodding. “Right. Sorry. Well, he tore my dress, and he tore my chemise, but I’d… I’d brought a needle to fix my stitches, so I… I used it to protect myself. Mr. Livingston, sir, he’s assaulted so many girls working down there… I couldn’t just let him do what he wanted to me and allow him to keep hurting us.”

Charles frowned, then wet his lips. He looked pensive. 

“He’ll never admit to it, but he’s done horrible things. We’ve all seen how it goes, and—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because he threatened me,” Kiesha burst, throat tight. How could this man be so blind? She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “He said he’d take my wages, and I was… I was afraid I’d be next. He’s had it out for me ever since I got here, Mr. Livingston.” She wrapped her arms around herself, gaze frozen on the rich mahogany of his desk and the gold in his nameplate. 

Such simple things. 

It made her angry. He probably never thought about them. Never thought about that fancy pocket watch on his corduroy suit or his room full of books or those spectacles on his nose. They were just things he had.

She would have done anything for them. 

The simple, everyday amenities that merely existed in his life would have changed her entire world.

“What would the other girls in your department say about this, Miss Ebersol?”

“I… I’m not sure. Some might admit. Others will be too afraid.”

“Look me in the face, Kiesha.”

“Miss Ebersol,” Kiesha whispered.

“Miss Ebersol,” he amended.

She brought her gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Of course I am. Do you take me for a liar, sir?”

He studied her face, then shook his head, gaze falling to the papers on his desk, which he shuffled aimlessly around. “No. No, Miss Ebersol. I don’t.”

Kiesha nodded. That was good—but she didn’t think her credibility would go far here. It was very unlikely the manager would believe a bottom-of-the-rung employee—a woman—over his foreman. 

“Why don’t you go home for the day,” he suggested. “Get some rest. I’m going to chat with some people and figure out what the best course of action is here.”

She wanted to protest; she needed all the money she could get her hands on. Hera’s last letter had been absolutely desperate. But she was exhausted and scared, and all she wanted was to go home to Zack and let him hold her in his strong, warm arms—that was, if he was home yet.

Kiesha nodded. “Alright,” she murmured, standing from the stool. She brushed her hands off on her skirt, and Charles stood to walk her out of his office. She gave him a half-hearted smile, which he returned in his own respect, and she went back down the stairs. 

She kept her head ducked, so her hair formed a sort of curtain around her face, blocking it from view. 

She updated her punch card, then pushed out the door, noticing for the first time how sore she was. During their skirmish, the foreman had hit her in more places than she’d originally thought, and she noted a split lip in her reflection as she passed the window of a bakery.

Her stomach twisted painfully at the smell of warm bread coming through the open door, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten well for several days. She paused to watch a plump woman place fresh loaves on a rack. The woman noticed her and smiled through the window. She smiled tightly back. 

Kiesha had–like usual–sent her entire paycheck back home to Hera, and recently, the food in the pantry had been disappearing faster than usual. Zack insisted otherwise, but Kiesha wasn’t so sure. They were buying groceries all the time.

It was getting cooler outside every day, but with the sun shining down on the city and the warmth coming from the shops, it felt really nice, though it was strange to be out on the streets this early. She took a deep breath of the crisp air, suddenly glad the city she lived in was known for its clean nature. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much better than other cities she’d heard of. 

She didn’t have much, but at least she had that.

A vague thought crossed her mind as she passed the post office, and she decided to go see if she’d received anything from Hera in the past couple of days. The postman smiled when he saw her and immediately retrieved a letter from her sister, holding it out to her. “Miss Ebersol.”

Kiesha smiled at him and took it. 

He was a sturdy man, if a bit round, with a kind face and greying hair. He wore spectacles, presumably for reading, and his eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled. 

“Thank you,” Kiesha said, turning the envelope over in her hands and breaking the seal. She moved over to a bench to read it. 

The handwriting was shaky, and it was more of a note than a letter.  

 

Kiesha,

 

I hope things are going okay in the city. It’s been bad here. 

I know you’re doing as much as you can, but half of them are sick with scarlet fever. We don’t have enough money for medicine. I’ll keep you updated.

Mom died this morning. I’m so sorry.

 

- Hera

 

Kiesha stared at the letter in disbelief, gripping the page with both hands. 

She read the words over and over again, trying to find her mistake, trying to stumble upon what she’d read wrong, but the words didn’t change. They stayed right where they were, no matter how hard she tried to make them rearrange themselves.

She raised a hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut to discourage the hot tears forming, trying to force the words out of her mind. She brought her other hand to her head, too, the unfolded letter hanging limply between her fingers.

If she hadn’t read it, it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. 

She’d done everything she could. 

Surely…

Surely…

“Miss Ebersol?”

Kiesha looked up to see the postman standing over her, brow furrowed in concern. He eased himself onto the bench next to her, with at least a foot of space between them. That was refreshing, at least.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh… um….” she blinked a few times, and some of the tears fell loose. She immediately scrubbed them away, standing suddenly. “I need to go home.” She shoved the letter into her bag, not caring how crumpled it got. 

The postman watched as she fled the shop, tearing her hands through her hair and trying to think of somewhere to go. She couldn’t face Zack like this. She spun around, surveying her surroundings, but there wasn’t anywhere she could go. She didn’t know anyone in this city aside from Zack, a few of her coworkers, the postman, and the baker. She only knew the streets she used to get to and from work, since she didn’t have any free time to spend at the park or in a cafe or a tavern. The only place she could go was home. 

She realized vaguely she was already walking in that direction. 

It felt like she was watching everything happen around her from behind some sort of warped veil, and the sounds weren’t quite right, and the smells weren’t hardly as strong. She felt like she was floating above it all, an actor in a show she didn’t know the script of. 

It took her twice as long to get home than usual, but she was still hours ahead of her normal schedule. It was late afternoon, though, so she had hope he would be home. Her knuckles rapped softly against the door, and the knocking felt strangely as hollow as she felt. She clutched her bag a little tighter.

The door swung open, but it wasn’t Zack.

It was Bella.

She had long golden hair with eyes that matched, fair skin, and a dusting of freckles across a button nose. She looked surprised to see Kiesha, and she smelled like… like that too-sweet-fresh-air scent she’d picked up on Zack for the past couple of weeks.

Kiesha stared at her in utter disbelief.

He couldn’t be… he wasn’t really…

Her throat tightened, and her chest constricted, and her stomach heaved, and she thought she was going to be sick. 

She’d trusted him. Because bad things happened when she didn’t. 

She pushed past Bella. Maybe this wasn’t what she thought. Her non-work clothes were too fine, she wore one too many necklaces, she was too well-kempt to be with Zack. 

Zack couldn’t afford things like that. He could hardly afford to feed himself, let alone Kiesha.

Zack was inside, leaning on the kitchen table and eating some leftover soup she’d made the night before. His face turned bone white as soon as he saw her, and he choked on the soup. “K-Kiesha! You’re back early.”

“Looks like you were, too,” Kiesha said softly, just a bite of bitterness behind the words. 

“Kiesha, it’s not—we’re hanging out, that’s all.”

“Well, isn’t that nice,” she said quietly. She didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with this today, and she was tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt. She loved him, of course, but he could be utterly exhausting.

“You trust me, don’t you?” For some reason, it sounded like a threat, and Kiesha was noticing it for the first time.

“O-of course.”

“Good. How was your day?”

She bit the inside lining of her cheek, so hard she was sure she would draw blood. 

His face melted into something that almost looked like genuine concern. He led her into her bedroom, which Kiesha thought was strange because usually they had private conversations in his. 

He sat her down on the bed and settled next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, the foreman has been harrassing me for months and finally decided to try his luck, so I stabbed him through the eye with a needle, and then I got in trouble, and I think I’m going to lose my job, and I just got a letter from my sister that my mom died.”

Zack was silent for a second, apparently trying to absorb all that information at once. “The foreman,” he began. “Is that why your face is…”

“Busted up?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“So… so let me get this straight. Y-you stabbed the foreman because he tried to kiss you—”

“He tried to rape me.”

“—same thing. And now you’re losing your job.”

“I… I don’t know that yet,” she stammered timidly, taken aback at how quickly he’d dismissed that news. 

Zack sighed, running his hands through his hair and giving her that look he always did whenever she talked about her job or anything to do with money. 

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

He cut her off, wrapping her in a sudden, tight hug that felt realer than she’d expected it to. “We’ll figure this out once your boss gets back to you, okay?”

“...okay,” she whispered. 

“It’s going to be fine.”

She nodded, trying her very best to believe him. 

 

BELLA NOOOOOO my heart

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

41 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

BELLA NOOOOOO my heart

hehehe :333

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

Spoiler

 

 

Edited January 10 by kajsa

[Honors Spectral Image She/her]

2 minutes ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Hide contents

 

 

omg those are so good

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

1 minute ago, Honors Ghost said:

omg those are so good

hehe thanks twin

[Ink and Embers Any pronouns]

5 hours ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Hide contents

 

 

Oh wow!!!!! Those are so beautiful!!!!!

[Throw TheLiving Silverware he/him/il/lui]

7 hours ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Hide contents

 

 

Wow those are really cool

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

9 hours ago, Ink and Embers said:

Oh wow!!!!! Those are so beautiful!!!!!

thank you so much!!!

7 hours ago, A Silvereye in Silverlight said:

Wow those are really cool

thanks

 

i’ve been trying to do some more drawing but lately i’ve been struggling with it lol

i am in an art class this semester tho!

[Akimikoisthecutest]

15 hours ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Reveal hidden contents

 

 

Daaaannnnnngggggg. Those are sooo good.

[Edema Rue she/her]

16 hours ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Reveal hidden contents

 

 

I just looked at all those and realized Labour by Paris Paloma is literally your theme song

it plays every time you (or your characters) enter a room

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

Just now, Edema Rue said:

I just looked at all those and realized Labour by Paris Paloma is literally your theme song

it plays every time you (or your characters) enter a room

PARIS PALOMA IS LITERALLY MY QUEEN

she was my #1 artist for spotify wrapped

i love her sm 

1 hour ago, Akimikoisthecutest said:

Daaaannnnnngggggg. Those are sooo good.

thank you!!!

[___ He/Him]

16 hours ago, kajsa said:

just realized i haven’t posted here for a really long time lol… so time for an update!

i haven’t been doing a lot of writing since i’ve been really busy lately, but i have done some art!! also, i got a bunch of fancy recording stuff for christmas, so i might be doing some singing stuff soon too.

but yes here are art things! i’m just gonna post Carissa’s things cuz i’m not exactly sure what else i’ve done since i last posted

  Reveal hidden contents

 

 

Wow! That's... REALLY IMPRESSIVE

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa(x298272628817)y better than I could ever do

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

hey guys! i wrote a short thing for Carissa for a project hehehehehe

do ask if you have questions :3333 >:3

enjoy!!!

@Edema Rue i feel like you might enjoy this one

Spoiler

That night, Carissa did not dream. Her consciousness wandered for a very long time before her eyes finally fluttered open. 

Her vision was somewhat obscured by air that was near opaque, viscous with dark fog that seemed to cling in disconnected, nonsensical clouds and drifted, then leapt, skipping from one plane to another in half a blink’s time. It left in its wake a cold and a heat more intense than that of the natural world, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps and sweat all at once. Something like nails on a chalkboard sounded off to the right, far behind her, echoing over a thousand whispers that scraped through the mist—dying, gravelly voices that hissed like snakes and sometimes screamed, raw and shuddering. She almost thought she caught a glimpse of a hand, or of a face, but as soon as she blinked, it disappeared, morphing into something vaguely horrifying before dissolving entirely. 

A faintly metallic taste bloomed on her tongue, and without having thought even briefly about turning, she did, to face the demon she’d known waited for her. 

“Did you miss me, little alchemist?” 

Its voice was more terrible than it had been before, now a discordance of screeching rasps that had once been, in comparison, something akin to music. Bad music, but music all the same. 

And how different it–he?–looked. Milky, half-translucent skin stretched thin over the limbs that had once been incorporeal, showing underneath a revolting web of nerves and veins. His face had been plastered into a smile that spread too far, reaching a pair of eyes that carried no color.

Carissa’s stomach heaved, and she hardly fought the urge to empty its contents. 

His smile spread, carrying the cadence of a smirk as he bent down to meet her eyes, reaching out to twist his finger around a loose strand of her hair. She recoiled.

“Do you find me so terrible to behold, curseling? That’s a pity if there ever was one. Didn’t you know I am of your own handiwork? Your precious blood bought me a young man’s skin, a poet’s eyes… a dreamer’s heart, and a singer’s tongue. I may look alarming now, but I’ll grow into them yet.”

“...bought them?” Carissa’s voice was swallowed up in the thickness around her. It warped as she spoke, flickering in and out of focus, but a cold, sharp touch on her shoulder settled the chaos, which was replaced with a grating, screeching chuckle. 

“Oh, my small treasury.” His finger twirled absently around the strand of her hair. “I thought you more intelligent. Of course I bought them. What else could I do with your blood but fulfill my Ascension?”

When she didn’t respond, the demon stepped closer, disentangling his hand from her curl. “Your blood, curseling, is extremely valuable tender here. I can buy anything I want—things that would have taken years to accrue any other way. But with you, well...” 

She could feel his gaze boring through her, even though his eyes were blank. 

“It’s much easier,” he finished softly, voice crackling and scraping as he leaned down and brushed her hair off her neck with his free hand. She stiffened, sensing her heart thud heavily in her chest. The demon paused, allowing her a moment to speak.

“W-wait. What— what are you doing?”

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could sense the sneer in his reply. “Taking what you promised me, curseling.” He paused for a moment, his thumb running across her shoulder, prompting a shiver of knives down her spine. “You’re not afraid, Carissa, are you?”

Trembling, she pulled half-heartedly against his grip, which, unsurprisingly, produced no result. She attempted to steel herself, wishing she were less vulnerable and less terrified. 

Rachael’s pale frame had become visible in her mind’s eye, lying petrified there on the bed in that perpetual state of horror and desperation. Tears had run down her cheeks, chin trembling, and Carissa’s fingers had brushed them away, soothing her with whispers and words that were much prettier than real promises.

Taking a deep breath, Carissa brought herself back to the black, screaming plane, to the demon’s frigid touch. 

“No. I’m not afraid. Take what we agreed on.”

For half a second, the demon’s body lurched, morphing into the same fog that surrounded them, face erupting with a thousand teeth, gnashing and screaming, and then, he returned to his solid form once more. She thought would have missed it if she’d blinked.

“Do tell Rondere hello for me,” he scraped in her ear, and then his teeth pierced the side of her neck. There was pain and hollowness, and the sound of her own scream, and then he was gone.

 

 

Soaked with sweat and trembling, Carissa bolted upright, heart hammering faster than she’d thought possible, head lagging behind her jagged movement. She felt as though she was vibrating, floating. She was cold, but something searing in comparison burned her neck, and her hand came away slick, oozing with the metallic, stinging tang of blood.

Her blood.

She stumbled to her feet, significantly weaker and heavier than she thought she should have been—hadn’t he only taken a pint?—and pulled her blanket against her chest. It was leaden, though, and it dragged her towards the floor. She released it, taking a step that miraculously connected with the floor even as it tilted out of kilter. Her next step was a worse gamble, and she felt her knees crumbling beneath her like ash as she reached for the doorknob.

It dodged her hand, diving out of the way with the rest of the room. She tried again through the nauseating tilting, only barely managing to grab hold of it, using both hands to turn it and drag herself outside.

The screeching in her ears slowly faded to a terrible, thick silence broken only by an alien, frantic pounding, and her vision became obstructed at the edges by a swirling kind of fog. 

Unaware of having tripped over herself, she reached to crawl forward, desperate, and her own blue hands were the last thing she registered before she crashed to the ground with an unremarkable thud. 

 

Edited January 15 by kajsa

[Edema Rue she/her]

1 hour ago, kajsa said:

hey guys! i wrote a short thing for Carissa for a project hehehehehe

do ask if you have questions :3333 >:3

enjoy!!!

@Edema Rue i feel like you might enjoy this one

  Reveal hidden contents

That night, Carissa did not dream. Her consciousness wandered for a very long time before her eyes finally fluttered open. 

Her vision was somewhat obscured by air that was near opaque, viscous with dark fog that seemed to cling in disconnected, nonsensical clouds and drifted, then leapt, skipping from one plane to another in half a blink’s time. It left in its wake a cold and a heat more intense than that of the natural world, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps and sweat all at once. Something like nails on a chalkboard sounded off to the right, far behind her, echoing over a thousand whispers that scraped through the mist—dying, gravelly voices that hissed like snakes and sometimes screamed, raw and shuddering. She almost thought she caught a glimpse of a hand, or of a face, but as soon as she blinked, it disappeared, morphing into something vaguely horrifying before dissolving entirely. 

A faintly metallic taste bloomed on her tongue, and without having thought even briefly about turning, she did, to face the demon she’d known waited for her. 

“Did you miss me, little alchemist?” 

Its voice was more terrible than it had been before, now a discordance of screeching rasps that had once been, in comparison, something akin to music. Bad music, but music all the same. 

And how different it–he?–looked. Milky, half-translucent skin stretched thin over the limbs that had once been incorporeal, showing underneath a revolting web of nerves and veins. His face had been plastered into a smile that spread too far, reaching a pair of eyes that carried no color.

Carissa’s stomach heaved, and she hardly fought the urge to empty its contents. 

His smile spread, carrying the cadence of a smirk as he bent down to meet her eyes, reaching out to twist his finger around a loose strand of her hair. She recoiled.

“Do you find me so terrible to behold, curseling? That’s a pity if there ever was one. Didn’t you know I am of your own handiwork? Your precious blood bought me a young man’s skin, a poet’s eyes… a dreamer’s heart, and a singer’s tongue. I may look alarming now, but I’ll grow into them yet.”

“...bought them?” Carissa’s voice was swallowed up in the thickness around her. It warped as she spoke, flickering in and out of focus, but a cold, sharp touch on her shoulder settled the chaos, which was replaced with a grating, screeching chuckle. 

“Oh, my small treasury.” His finger twirled absently around the strand of her hair. “I thought you more intelligent. Of course I bought them. What else could I do with your blood but fulfill my Ascension?”

When she didn’t respond, the demon stepped closer, disentangling his hand from her curl. “Your blood, curseling, is extremely valuable tender here. I can buy anything I want—things that would have taken years to accrue any other way. But with you, well...” 

She could feel his gaze boring through her, even though his eyes were blank. 

“It’s much easier,” he finished softly, voice crackling and scraping as he leaned down and brushed her hair off her neck with his free hand. She stiffened, sensing her heart thud heavily in her chest. The demon paused, allowing her a moment to speak.

“W-wait. What— what are you doing?”

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could sense the sneer in his reply. “Taking what you promised me, curseling.” He paused for a moment, his thumb running across her shoulder, prompting a shiver of knives down her spine. “You’re not afraid, Carissa, are you?”

Trembling, she pulled half-heartedly against his grip, which, unsurprisingly, produced no result. She attempted to steel herself, wishing she were less vulnerable and less terrified. 

Rachael’s pale frame had become visible in her mind’s eye, lying petrified there on the bed in that perpetual state of horror and desperation. Tears had run down her cheeks, chin trembling, and Carissa’s fingers had brushed them away, soothing her with whispers and words that were much prettier than real promises.

Taking a deep breath, Carissa brought herself back to the black, screaming plane, to the demon’s frigid touch. 

“No. I’m not afraid. Take what we agreed on.”

For half a second, the demon’s body lurched, morphing into the same fog that surrounded them, face erupting with a thousand teeth, gnashing and screaming, and then, he returned to his solid form once more. She thought would have missed it if she’d blinked.

“Do tell Rondere hello for me,” he scraped in her ear, and then his teeth pierced the side of her neck. There was pain and hollowness, and the sound of her own scream, and then he was gone.

 

 

Soaked with sweat and trembling, Carissa bolted upright, heart hammering faster than she’d thought possible, head lagging behind her jagged movement. She felt as though she was vibrating, floating. She was cold, but something searing in comparison burned her neck, and her hand came away slick, oozing with the metallic, stinging tang of blood.

Her blood.

She stumbled to her feet, significantly weaker and heavier than she thought she should have been—hadn’t he only taken a pint?—and pulled her blanket against her chest. It was leaden, though, and it dragged her towards the floor. She released it, taking a step that miraculously connected with the floor even as it tilted out of kilter. Her next step was a worse gamble, and she felt her knees crumbling beneath her like ash as she reached for the doorknob.

It dodged her hand, diving out of the way with the rest of the room. She tried again through the nauseating tilting, only barely managing to grab hold of it, using both hands to turn it and drag herself outside.

The screeching in her ears slowly faded to a terrible, thick silence broken only by an alien, frantic pounding, and her vision became obstructed at the edges by a swirling kind of fog. 

Unaware of having tripped over herself, she reached to crawl forward, desperate, and her own blue hands were the last thing she registered before she crashed to the ground with an unremarkable thud. 

 

Woahhhhh that was epic, you’re right I totally enjoyed it. Reading it on a ski lift was definitely the move.

[Ink and Embers Any pronouns]

22 hours ago, kajsa said:

hey guys! i wrote a short thing for Carissa for a project hehehehehe

do ask if you have questions :3333 >:3

enjoy!!!

@Edema Rue i feel like you might enjoy this one

  Hide contents

That night, Carissa did not dream. Her consciousness wandered for a very long time before her eyes finally fluttered open. 

Her vision was somewhat obscured by air that was near opaque, viscous with dark fog that seemed to cling in disconnected, nonsensical clouds and drifted, then leapt, skipping from one plane to another in half a blink’s time. It left in its wake a cold and a heat more intense than that of the natural world, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps and sweat all at once. Something like nails on a chalkboard sounded off to the right, far behind her, echoing over a thousand whispers that scraped through the mist—dying, gravelly voices that hissed like snakes and sometimes screamed, raw and shuddering. She almost thought she caught a glimpse of a hand, or of a face, but as soon as she blinked, it disappeared, morphing into something vaguely horrifying before dissolving entirely. 

A faintly metallic taste bloomed on her tongue, and without having thought even briefly about turning, she did, to face the demon she’d known waited for her. 

“Did you miss me, little alchemist?” 

Its voice was more terrible than it had been before, now a discordance of screeching rasps that had once been, in comparison, something akin to music. Bad music, but music all the same. 

And how different it–he?–looked. Milky, half-translucent skin stretched thin over the limbs that had once been incorporeal, showing underneath a revolting web of nerves and veins. His face had been plastered into a smile that spread too far, reaching a pair of eyes that carried no color.

Carissa’s stomach heaved, and she hardly fought the urge to empty its contents. 

His smile spread, carrying the cadence of a smirk as he bent down to meet her eyes, reaching out to twist his finger around a loose strand of her hair. She recoiled.

“Do you find me so terrible to behold, curseling? That’s a pity if there ever was one. Didn’t you know I am of your own handiwork? Your precious blood bought me a young man’s skin, a poet’s eyes… a dreamer’s heart, and a singer’s tongue. I may look alarming now, but I’ll grow into them yet.”

“...bought them?” Carissa’s voice was swallowed up in the thickness around her. It warped as she spoke, flickering in and out of focus, but a cold, sharp touch on her shoulder settled the chaos, which was replaced with a grating, screeching chuckle. 

“Oh, my small treasury.” His finger twirled absently around the strand of her hair. “I thought you more intelligent. Of course I bought them. What else could I do with your blood but fulfill my Ascension?”

When she didn’t respond, the demon stepped closer, disentangling his hand from her curl. “Your blood, curseling, is extremely valuable tender here. I can buy anything I want—things that would have taken years to accrue any other way. But with you, well...” 

She could feel his gaze boring through her, even though his eyes were blank. 

“It’s much easier,” he finished softly, voice crackling and scraping as he leaned down and brushed her hair off her neck with his free hand. She stiffened, sensing her heart thud heavily in her chest. The demon paused, allowing her a moment to speak.

“W-wait. What— what are you doing?”

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could sense the sneer in his reply. “Taking what you promised me, curseling.” He paused for a moment, his thumb running across her shoulder, prompting a shiver of knives down her spine. “You’re not afraid, Carissa, are you?”

Trembling, she pulled half-heartedly against his grip, which, unsurprisingly, produced no result. She attempted to steel herself, wishing she were less vulnerable and less terrified. 

Rachael’s pale frame had become visible in her mind’s eye, lying petrified there on the bed in that perpetual state of horror and desperation. Tears had run down her cheeks, chin trembling, and Carissa’s fingers had brushed them away, soothing her with whispers and words that were much prettier than real promises.

Taking a deep breath, Carissa brought herself back to the black, screaming plane, to the demon’s frigid touch. 

“No. I’m not afraid. Take what we agreed on.”

For half a second, the demon’s body lurched, morphing into the same fog that surrounded them, face erupting with a thousand teeth, gnashing and screaming, and then, he returned to his solid form once more. She thought would have missed it if she’d blinked.

“Do tell Rondere hello for me,” he scraped in her ear, and then his teeth pierced the side of her neck. There was pain and hollowness, and the sound of her own scream, and then he was gone.

 

 

Soaked with sweat and trembling, Carissa bolted upright, heart hammering faster than she’d thought possible, head lagging behind her jagged movement. She felt as though she was vibrating, floating. She was cold, but something searing in comparison burned her neck, and her hand came away slick, oozing with the metallic, stinging tang of blood.

Her blood.

She stumbled to her feet, significantly weaker and heavier than she thought she should have been—hadn’t he only taken a pint?—and pulled her blanket against her chest. It was leaden, though, and it dragged her towards the floor. She released it, taking a step that miraculously connected with the floor even as it tilted out of kilter. Her next step was a worse gamble, and she felt her knees crumbling beneath her like ash as she reached for the doorknob.

It dodged her hand, diving out of the way with the rest of the room. She tried again through the nauseating tilting, only barely managing to grab hold of it, using both hands to turn it and drag herself outside.

The screeching in her ears slowly faded to a terrible, thick silence broken only by an alien, frantic pounding, and her vision became obstructed at the edges by a swirling kind of fog. 

Unaware of having tripped over herself, she reached to crawl forward, desperate, and her own blue hands were the last thing she registered before she crashed to the ground with an unremarkable thud. 

 

That is very cool and utterly terrifying!

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

10 hours ago, Ink and Embers said:

That is very cool and utterly terrifying!

thank you very much!!! hehehehehe