They were silent as a grave as they stood in front of Death in the Death Room. Stein was casually smoking as Marie was waving the air away, her singular eye glaring at her partner while Spirit was casually texting whichever Tinder date he had managed to get matched with. Azusa was sighing, staring at the empty space where their boss was supposed to be.

How was he going to call them into the Death Room for a meeting and yet not show up?

They all knew what it was about, of course. The disappearances had spread like wildfire through the school. From what they could make out, multiple students had tried, on multiple occasions, to go on what appeared to be a simple mission to locate a book in some cavern. It was rife with negative energy, but certainly nothing that would be considered particularly dangerous.

After the first group didn't show up, a second was sent out to see what had happened to them, since all lines of communication had been cut. But when that group didn't come back, either, everyone got up in arms about where they went.

So, there they were. The Calvary.

They were a ragtag group. If Sid weren't already out on a separate mission, they'd at least have another Meister to accompany them, but it seemed as though three weapons and the DWMA's best Meister were just going to have to be enough. Azusa wouldn't have even come with them if it weren't for her clairvoyance, and two people who could locate others was always more favorable than one.

Five minutes, another cigarette, and a rejection via Tinder later, Death finally bounced his way into the room and spotted his Death Scythes and Stein already waiting for him.

"Hiya hello," he started, to which Azusa only adjusted her glasses, the light glinting off of them.

"It's particularly rude to call a meeting and be late to it," she said, bluntly, and Death could feel the sweat collecting on his massive palms under his mittens.

She was always so fast to cast her observations.

"Ah, well. . ." he stalled, fidgeting. "I was just getting all the paperwork together!"

"Paperwork?" Spirit asked from behind Azusa.

"The wills," Death said, cheerfully, and Spirit blinked at him, chuckling nervously.

"Haha, good one."

Well. No one really appreciated quality comedy anymore, though Stein certainly looked at least slightly amused. The solidarity was overwhelming.

"Yes, well. By now I presume you've heard of the disappearances?"

"Four Meister-Weapon pairs went missing," Azusa filled in, as though wracking off well memorized information.

Death nodded. "Yes. Eight people have gone to retrieve an artifact from a magically-concentrated zone. It was presumed harmless."

"Have we information on the opposite, then?" Stein asked, knowing that there had to be in order to pull some of the strongest people in the DWMA from their jobs.

"We have information of a witch," Death said, and his voice was chilling when he spat the final word.

"What kind of witch?" Marie asked, her voice all business.

"A wolf witch. Luna."

"Convenient," Spirit deadpanned.

"It seems the book belongs to her," Death said.

"And that's why the students are missing," Spirit finished for him, something sad in his belly at the thought. The somber mood in the room only got darker when Death nodded.

"You're to go immediately. There is still a chance the children are alive."

"You aren't certain?" Azusa asked, staring at her boss.

"She's skewed my transmission," Death said, gesturing toward his mirror. "Just static. Like the inside of Black*Star's head."

"Hear hear," Stein commented, looking like he was ready to lift a drink at the proclaiming, only to have Marie gently elbow him in the side, shaking her head.

"We'll bring them back," she promised, turning on her heel and leading everyone out, even as Stein rubbed his now sore side, muttering.

Finding the witch wasn't difficult. It seemed as though she had absolutely no sense of subtlety, what with all the wolfsbane blooming everywhere and the crumbling werewolf statues were pretty much a dead giveaway, too.

No, finding her certainly wasn't the problem.

The problem was fighting her.

Stein ducked under the swiping paws of the woman's familiar as she cackled off to the side. Spirit was in one hand with Marie in the other and Stein had been fighting the damn wolf for well over ten minutes, being worn ragged. Frustrated, Stein swung Marie down to the ground, forcing the earth to rumble beneath their feet while he spun on a dime and swiped at the wolf with Spirit, only to have the creature run back, trying to evade.

In the background, Azusa had partially transformed, trying to land a hit from more far range and the witch was avoiding her at every turn.

"My! And you're supposed to be the DWMA's best? The children put up a greater fight!" the witch cackled, and when her yellow eyes zoned in on Azusa, she seemed to smile flirtatiously. "I might hold onto you, though. You certainly give me paws for thought!" the woman punned, and Azusa groaned as she tried to lock another hit on the woman.

The jokes were practically unbearable.

"Could you guys hurry up?" Azusa asked, irritable as the witchy woman sidestepped another of the soul blasts, her smile only widening.

"Oh, come now! No need to make such a howl about it!"

"That one wasn't even remotely good," Azusa snarked, still sniping.

The instant the words left her mouth, there was an actual howl in the air and Azusa's eyes widened as she snapped her gaze over to where Stein was standing, Marie's weapon form covered in blood, and the witch's familiar practically eviscerated. Stein had crimson flecked over his face and when he turned around, some of it dripped down and onto his lips.

When he grinned, his teeth were red.

The atmosphere changed immediately, something sparking in the air as the witch's thick, dark, curly hair lifted from her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, focused on the animal that was as much a part of her as her arms were.

The keen she let out was feral, and she moved with a speed none of them could have possibly imagined, her nails sharp and extended as she caught Stein on the arm, slamming him clean off his feet and into the walls of the cavern they had located her in.

She was snarling, raising her hand to swipe across his face before she shrieked in pain when Azusa finally managed to land a hit.

"Stop fucking around, Stein! Get the hell up!" Azusa said, firing another blast as Stein tried to slam Marie against the witch's ribcage.

The witch yowled at the wavelength, but she immediately spun her arm out, slamming Stein's arm against the rock and forcing him to let go of Marie. From her weapon form, she called out his name, and his fingers twitched, desperate to try to grasp her.

The witch's fingers had started to elongate, her face lengthening until it almost seemed as though she had a snout, and when she opened her mouth, it was as though she had grown more teeth than before, all of them sharp. She slammed Marie away as the woman tried to transform back to human, sending her flying, and Azusa immediately gasped, running off to try to catch her friend as Marie's transformation into human finally went through.

The witch screeched in Stein's face, her breath bloody. Stein felt disoriented from being slammed against the wall, his head spinning, but Spirit sent a jolt of his wavelength through his Meister, shocking Stein somewhat to action as the man fired up his Soul Menace and caught the witch against her stomach just as she tried to snap her teeth around his throat, throwing her several feet back and to the altar where the book was.

Stein stumbled to his feet, shaking his head and adjusting his hold on Spirit.

"Marie?" he called out, the slightest bit of panic coming into his voice.

"I'm fine!" she replied, but her voice sounded pained, and he risked the few precious seconds it took to look behind him and see what state she was in. Running toward him, it seemed as though she was favoring her left leg more than the right, half supported by Azusa, and he grimaced at the fact that he allowed his partner to get hurt.

He turned back around, steeling himself and bringing Spirit into a defensive stance in front of him, rushing at the witch before she could find her footing again.

They didn't expect for her to scream, the sound so loud and grating in their ears that Stein thinks he went deaf, but he continued running forward, not even slowing when she grasped hold of her book in a sloppy hold, bringing it to her chest and roaring out an incantation.

He couldn't turn fast enough when she opened the pages, and they flipped over one another so fast, the wind picked up to compensate.

The wind picked up too much.

"Stein!" Marie screamed, her arm stretching in front of her as she broke from Azusa's hold, rushing to him just as he lost his foothold on the earth, the book sucking him in along with Spirit.

When Marie reached out to grab him, his lab-coat slipped from between her fingers as she, too, found herself being thrown into the abyss.

Azusa's voice rung in her ears, her hand grasping at her wrist, but she didn't have enough leverage.

The laughter engulfed her.

"And I'm hungry like the wolf, strut on a line. It's discord and rhyme."

When he woke up, he entire side felt like a mass of tenderized meat: bruised and soft. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, mostly because they weren't on his face, and without them, he had a particularly hard time seeing even four feet in front of him. Groaning, he squinted, groping around for the damn thing. He'd already gone through six pairs in the past two months and he really didn't want to have to order yet another pair, all while arguing that he was a doctor. He knew his own prescription and he didn't have to go to a damn optometrist when he was a certified surgeon.

And then Marie would drag him to that joke of a doctor anyway. Really, he was screwed from the very beginning if he lost them.

That was why, when his fingers skimmed over the wire frame of his spectacles, he sighed through his nose in mild relief before he put them on his face, finally able to survey his surroundings. For a moment, his brows came together, having expected something more akin to the cobblestones of Death City, the brickwork of the world he was used to.

Instead, all he could see around him was tall, somewhat yellowed grass, dark Earth, the dirt no doubt transferred onto his labcoat, and massive trees that shaded the ground for what seemed like miles.

It was a far cry from the sand he was accustomed to, the training grounds he went to barren and dry, overlooking dunes and dust. He'd been all over the world but Death City was distinct and he'd be able to pinpoint almost every millimeter of the city. From the look of things, it seemed he was, as the saying went, not in Kansas, anymore. Or, at least, not in Nevada.

For a moment, his head still felt gooey, as though he couldn't really recall what was going on. Something was jumbled in his brain, the jarring nature of his surroundings mixing in with what felt like some sort of head wound likely causing his confusion. He rolled, propping himself on an elbow and reaching to turn his screw a few times, each click weighing heavily and bringing more clarity.

He must have taken a harder hit than he originally believed, because everything in his skull felt like it was decimated worse than his desk after Marie tried to marry it. Regardless, after the third click, his bolt settled and he blinked a few times, shifting his balance so that he was holding himself up on his palms. As he got up, he finally started to remember snippets of the witch's fight, Spirit's weight as a Scythe having been heavy and welcoming, familiar.

Though, that weight was a far cry from comfortable when he ended up getting knocked into him. He'd have to suggest a diet, really. Spirit was a grown man, of course, but he could always look to be more trim in his line of work.

But, once he thought of his friend, he couldn't help but realize that he was alone in the wide space, no Spirit. And while that fact in of itself was somewhat of a relief, since his former partner would undoubtedly be somewhat ridiculous in his comments of them being wherever they were, Azusa and Marie were missing, as well.

He supposed that meant it was his and Azusa's jobs to find one another. As the only two with any sort of sight-based advantage, his soul perception and Azusa's clairvoyance, they were obligated to make sure all persons of the group were accounted for and at least semi-breathing.

Which meant he didn't really have the time to keep himself in a plank, hovering over the dirt in his attempts to command his body into obeying him, despite the ache in his entire side.

Stein coughed, settling backward into a squat before he managed to stand up, his legs feeling weak. He sighed through his nose once more, patting at the pockets of his lab-coat before he threw his hands in, groping around for his ever-present pack of cigarettes and matches. The relief that flared up over the fact that he was not going to be without nicotine for the entire ordeal was almost palpable, and when he turned on his soul perception to check in the immediate area, he could at least take comfort in the fact that there wasn't a single living being four miles in either direction to give him dirty looks for smoking. Wobbling slightly, he tapped out a cigarette and dangled it in his mouth, striking a match and lighting the cancer stick immediately, inhaling in the smoke immediately. Blowing it out of his nose, he threw the packs back into his slightly dirty pockets, taking note of the fact that there wasn't a breeze to fight the flame.

Strange. There weren't too many places that felt so. . .still.

Heaving a sigh, he flared his Soul Perception higher, dialing it up in notches so he could locate some other living creature, preferably in general Marie, Spirit, or Azusa format. As he did so, he took the time to run a hand through his hair, dislodging dried grass from the prematurely gray locks.

With furrowed brows, he took a single step forward when he felt the flicker of a soul, moving in the general direction he located it from, but he found himself tumbling immediately. Stein caught himself on his forearms, hard, so badly that his shoulder felt as though it was jolted out of the socket. His world spun, glasses sliding down his nose until they fell down to the earth once more. Groaning, he closed his eyes for a moment before he brought himself upright once more, stooping uncomfortably so he could get his glasses, cleaning them off with the bottom of his shirt.

He didn't think he'd have such poor balance. That was unusual for him. As he looked at the ground for whatever it could have been that made him stumble, he blinked behind his glasses, his head feeling as though something were pounding inside of it. He felt off kilter, dizzy, and he had the profound need to click his bolt back once more for the sake of giving some small comfort to the developing, or rather, developed, migraine he was suffering from so suddenly.

It seemed as though one massive hit his body could take without issue. Two? Two turned into anatomical mutiny, his very feet betraying him in the basic motions of moving forward. He grit his teeth as he brought his touch back to his bolt, clicking back a few more times and welcoming the blissful disconnect that it brought to him, that clearing of his thoughts. This time, he took both hands to his hair, bringing the shaggy bangs off his forehead.

He froze entirely when his wrists brushed over something. It didn't feel like hair, but he. . .felt it. Felt it not only on his wrists, but in that way that you feel a touch against the side of a cheek.

It felt soft, and he had the distinct feeling of whatever it was twitching, both against his wrists and because it was part of his body, and with a confusion that baffled him, he rubbed against what he quickly realized was an ear, his ear, with his thumb and forefinger, observing the high contrast it had to his usual set.

When he confirmed what it was, a set of ears that almost seemed to hop alert at his self-awareness and springing to life by taking in every possible sound in the general vicinity, not that there was much, he took in a deep breath. There were some things in life he had no need to experience, but already a hypothesis was forming as he pieced together his newfound ears with what he could recall of the witch's fight.

He knew he had to turn around and confirm what he was dreading, but he allowed himself a brief moment of hesitation before he twisted his side and looked behind himself, taking in what was making him so unbalanced when he tried to walk.

He was a bipedal mammal. He was evolved to exist and function without a tail.

Cringing, he closed his eyes and turned forward once more, attempting to process the fact that he suddenly had appendages he'd believed he'd never be in possession of. The witch, no doubt. He supposed they, or at least he, was in the grimoire. Spreading his stance to compensate for his newfound information, he extended his Soul Perception as far as it would go until he finally hit up against other souls in the area.

But they were faint, even when he was working at full blast. He at least had the comfort of knowing they were, luckily, all in one general area.

He took a slow step forward, nearly upsetting his balance and eating dirt once more at the action.

It was going to be a long walk.

Marie was going to slaughter Spirit. He had no room to laugh at her in the state he was in, something he hadn't quite realized as he fell to his back, clutching his belly and roaring over the fact that, yes, Marie's usual outfit of heavy woolen black and gold clothing was, magically, replaced by the all too embarrassing pig's outfit all of them were currently in.

At the very least, she could breathe a little easier knowing that they hadn't been sucked into their grave when they were thrown into the witch's book. It depended on who she was asking, but she at least felt alive, and so she counted that as proof enough, in her book. Regardless, everyone seemed relatively unharmed, save for a few rather nasty bruises, and a rather sour attitude. Ridiculous get-ups or no, unknowing of what to do or where to go, they could at least take comfort in the fact that all their major organs were working.

And speaking of major organs, she could account for Spirit and Azusa, but Stein was missing, a fact that made her particularly nervous regardless of the fact that she knew he could take care of himself perfectly well.

But she'd seen the horror movies. The ones who were separated from the group were usually in the most danger.

Azusa's brow twitched from her spot next to Marie as the blonde was contemplating the fate of her partner. It seemed as though the crossbow wasn't particularly fond of the fact that Spirit took such great amusement in her costume.

"We are all in the same outfit, Albarn," she informed, curtly, but Spirit was too busy looking at the way the bright pink hoodie came over Azusa's head, two ears made of fabric arranged in a lopsided fashion.

Marie sat up, clutching the grass in her fists before she blinked tiredly, looking over at her close friend. "Azusa?" she started, biting her lip.

"Yes?"

"Is there any way you could locate Stein?"

Azusa blinked, as though realizing that the particularly noticeable fourth party of their group was missing. In fairness, they were all eccentric characters, but it was hard for her to believe that she didn't remember the practical giant with a bolt running clean through his skull. Azusa clicked her tongue, adjusting her glasses so that they caught a glare simply for Spirit's sake before she took them off, settling them neatly in her lap.

Yet, when she tried to activate her clairvoyance, it felt like her brain was being split open, and she immediately winced, throwing her arms out to grasp onto something and finding Marie's shoulder. The other woman was concerned immediately.

"Azusa!" she called, clutching her close friend as the crossbow nearly fell over. Spirit's laughter stopped abruptly, staring at the scene before he struggled upward, making his way toward the two.

"Committee?"

She only made an annoyed noise at the back of her throat, keeping her eyes squished closed as Marie fretted over her.

"Azusa? What happened?"

It took a few moments for Azusa to muster up enough strength to open her eyes, and when she did, the minimal light seemed to sear through her, making her squint immediately. With shaking hands, she groped around her lap until she found her glasses, bringing them back to her face. When Spirit noticed how badly her fingers were trembling, he sobered immediately, keen eyes taking in his surroundings. His leotard rode up in rather uncomfortable areas as he shifted around to take noticed of how menacing the small space they woke up in truly was. Around them, the trees seemed to loom tall and ominous, and he realized with a start just how dark it was in the shade they provided.

"Azusa? Do you want me to try my wavelength?" Marie asked, her gentle voice chiming out.

The ringing in Azusa's ears diminished slightly at her voice, which called out softly so as not to irritate any damage that had already been caused.

"I don't know if you can," Azusa answered, truthfully. After being knocked off from her clairvoyance, she could feel the way her soul was almost confined, a slight squeezing in her chest that reminded her of when she was a child, when she didn't know how to control her transformation, let alone her more advanced techniques.

She felt like before she consumed a witch's soul. Her status as a Death Scythe seemed as though it were a glove that did not fit, anymore.

"What do you mean?" Marie asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"I-I can't transform," Azusa started, finally managing to turn her head and look at the horrified expression on Marie's face. "My soul is blocked," she admitted, and Marie blinked at her owlishly. It was only at Spirit's confused, somewhat distressed sound that's he could turn away from Azusa, instead focusing on Spirit's back as he looked over the trees. Finally, she alternated between the two.

"What?" she asked, panic welling up inside of her. "How would you know? You didn't try," she urged, already feeling as though her heart was beating double-time, but when she focused, she could feel the same blockage in her soul, as though something had built a brick wall in front of it, keeping it from expanding.

"Uh, guys? Worse news," Spirit called out, and Marie's mouth popped open. There was barely anything that could be worse than being a weapon who couldn't transform, especially if the information came suddenly and without warning.

Marie's forehead wrinkled as she looked at Death Scythe, her singular eye crinkled in confusion.

"Worse?" Marie asked. And when Spirit stepped to the side, Marie and Azusa were finally able to make out the words that had been carved into the bark.

Three Little Pigs, each letter careful, meticulous, and almost eerie in how they slanted. The words splashed over four separate trees, jagged slashes in the bark, some of them oozing tree sap so thickly, the scent of sugar was in the air.

"We're in a fairy tale."

No sooner had the words been spoken did the breeze pick up, shaking the leaves in the trees and forcing the branches to sway. And with them came the soft cackle, growing louder and louder as the rustling got louder. Marie's eyebrows twitched together and she stood up, clenching her fists and settling in front of Azusa, who still seemed woozy.

She might not be able to transform, but she'd been told that she had a hell of a swing, and there was something in her intuition that was screaming that danger was approaching.

But nothing came.

Instead, only the soft, mocking voice of the witch floated on the breeze.

"Work through the tales and you shall find
the life you all have left behind.
But if you find yourselves to fail
this shall become a different tale,
in which you stay inside the pages
for now, forever, and through the ages."

"Did she just fucking rhyme at us?" Spirit asked, a dumbfounded expression imprinted upon his face, only to be spoken over by Marie.

"What does she mean 'stay inside the pages'? Are we going to be trapped here?"

"We got sucked into the grimoire, remember?" Azusa reminded, smoothing down her hair and standing up on her wobbling legs. Her knees almost buckled and her head felt like it was swimming, so she brought her hand out to one of the nearby trees, steadying herself.

At that, Spirit groaned. "So we have to act out the Three Little Pigs? Oh Death, it's middle school all over again!"

"Oh, please. As if you were anything but sapling number two in any play," Marie said, rolling her eye and running a hand through her hair.

Spirit made an offended noise in the back of his throat, only to be ignored. Azusa shook her head, adjusting her glasses and finally finding some sort of clarity, bringing herself upright.

"He's right, however. We have to act out the story."

"That's sick," Marie commented, biting her lip.

"And cruel," Spirit added.

"And unusual," Marie tacked on.

Azusa pushed her glasses up so she could pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Wait, why do I have to build my house out of straw?" Spirit asked, pouting as he carried another ball of straw over to the area he'd designated as his own. It hadn't taken much wandering to locate the massive pile of supplies that had been left for them, and they assumed they were going to have to build out the shelters by hand.

However, none of them wanted to remain in the woods, where the shade seemed to shift every once and a while. They had stumbled around for a few minutes before Azusa had come upon a small clearing they'd be able to utilize. None of it was ideal, of course, but it was better than setting up camp in spook-central.

"Because in the story, the stupidest pig-" Azusa began, shuffling the wheelbarrow around so she could avoid a few rocks in the path.

"Yeah, that's my point, I'm not the stupidest pig-" Spirit broke in, dropping the bundle so he could complain more easily.

"Just build the house, Spirit," Azusa said, her glasses glinting while she adjusted the rope that she kept attached to Marie so the woman wouldn't get lost. From about ten feet behind them, the blonde dragged the passive pile of logs, keeping her singular eye trained on her best friend bickering with Death Scythe.

Times like those were when she really wished she had Soul Perception.

At least she landed with Spirit and Azusa, that much was a blessing. Still, Stein was now without a weapon and, more importantly, he was off, floating somewhere in the abyss of the book and they had to trust him to find them. It was something she knew he could do, but wished he did just a tad bit faster. If he didn't show up within a day or two, she didn't know what they were going to do.

Sighing, she tightened her grip on the rope and continued walking forward.

Stein managed to piece together enough to know that he was in some sick, twisted version of his own personal hell. Mostly because, whilst using Soul Perception, he managed to locate Spirit's soul, and that already informed him that whatever he was going through was unpleasant.

And considering he'd spent the past few hours trying to get accustomed to walking with a tail and being hyper-sensitive to every damn sound in the general vicinity, he's more inclined to believe he was being punished for some previous misdeed of his. Punished rather harshly, on top of it all.

He doesn't blame whoever decided to bestow that particular brand of torture: he'd done some fucked up things in the past. Of course, he does wish whichever deity took control of his life was a tad more merciful.

Regardless, when he finally managed to get to the clearing where the three familiar souls were, he spotted the barely cobbled together houses immediately.

Spirit would be the one to make a house out of straw. The construction of it was shoddy at best, tufts of poorly tied down hay sticking out haphazardly. Stein brought his hand to the pocket of his pants, having realized he had cigarettes and some matches a few hours back after cataloguing himself more thoroughly.

Truly merciful, perhaps not, but at least whatever he had done to land himself in the current position was kind enough to humor his nicotine addiction. He brought the cigarette to his lips, lighting it carelessly and tossing the still lit match in the general vicinity of Spirit's home. It caught the very edges, but was put out before any real damage could have been made.

Good enough for him: he needed a few more minutes to look over his options. While he smoked, he squinted his eyes behind his glasses, noting that Azusa was in the far more meticulously arranged brick house, complete with a chimney. Of course Queen of the Committee Chairman would be the one to go above and beyond the call of duty. He knows Marie would be with her, sharing the place, if it weren't for the way the tale was supposed to go.

He was a little hazy on the details, if he were honest, but he did remember that the wolf destroyed the first two houses. However, considering the last thing he was in the mood for was facing Azusa at some ungodly time of night, and also engaging in any sort of conversation with Spirit, he was just going to have to take his own approach to the matter.

Having half-finished his cigarette, Stein simply tossed it the same way he did with the match, though the cherry didn't go out, and he watched as it caught on some of the hay, making it smoke. Shrugging, he only strolled to the poor excuse for a log cabin, knocking on it until Marie's soul started moving forward.

Her single, amber eye peeped through the all-too-obvious hole she made in the door as some means of identifying visitors.

He took it that not everyone was as courteous as he, though, common decency tended to be something he avoided almost in the strictest senses for near everyone else. When he heard her gasp, he pushed on the unlocked door, and the small scrape of the doorstop over the dirt was all that greeted him when he hunched to fit into the tiny frame. Marie's mouth was gaped open, though she did move aside, eye trained on his ears.

They twitched.

"Oh my Death, you're the wolf."

He said nothing while she burst into giggles, a delicate hand coming to her stomach as she laughed, biting down on her lip.

"You, ah, you didn't-," a snort of the most ladylike proportions, "-you didn't say the line."

He waited until her chuckles died down slightly, closing the door with his foot as the scent of burning hay started to waft through.

"I'm a smoker, Marie. I huff and puff enough, as is."

The laughter increased, once more, Marie's grin stretching wide before she finally caught hint of the smell. Her brows furrowed.

"What? Did you bring villagers with pitchforks?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then what did you do?" she asked, trying to keep her lips from twitching.

"Noth-"

He was cut off by a slight, high pitched screech that both of them could identify as Spirit's almost immediately. Stein blinked once, twice, and then moseyed over to where Marie had a makeshift mattress, mostly just a bundle of hay wrapped in some spare cloth. He plopped down, avoiding his side.

Marie looked over at him before she peeped outside, spotting Spirit frantically throwing water on his failed attempt at shelter: more a sad shed that was falling apart rather than lodging. She, too, blinked in reaction before slowly closing her door and stepping to her bed.

It was too damn late in the night to deal with that.

Marie was going to be a good friend and not bring up the fact that Azusa and Spirit were walking out of the haphazardly cobbled together brick house the younger woman managed to scrape together yesterday looking slightly disheveled. Mostly, she was going to commit to this particular good deed because she wasn't really one to talk. The pink hoodie could only cover so much of her tousled hair, and she was relatively certain that if the pig-outfit wasn't all she had to wear, she would have lost or ripped something the night prior.

Less importantly, she did feel slightly guilty for the fact that her boyfriend was the one to blame for the commotion, something everyone realized the night prior after Spirit found the cigarettes as well as a barred door to Marie's log cabin. Stein had told him to "Fuck off to Azusa," if she remembered correctly, so she figured her kindness at least extended to silence.

Nonetheless, she was sitting on a bale of forgotten, slightly charred hay, her legs crossed with Stein leaning against the bundle. He was yawning and grumbling about how ungodly the morning was, having been informed that to get out of the book, the only plausible reasoning would be to go through the tales until the end. He had taken in this information grudgingly when they both looked up, spotting Spirit's grin widening more and more. Stein steeled himself for some sort of comment on the new additions to his person (he was getting rather used to the tail, though it certainly wasn't meant for bipedal mammals). As Spirit and Azusa approached them, Marie knew in her heart of hearts what was about to happen, and the second he stepped into proper earshot, she groaned, the annoyance already bubbling up inside of her.

"Don't say it, Spirit," she warned, but Spirit's lips were twitching, his eyes trained on Stein.

"You porked her," Spirit proclaimed.

"Well, there that is," Azusa said, rolling her eyes. It was too early in the morning, if it could truly be morning in a witch's enchanted spell, who knew how time passed, for any of Spirit's ridiculous jokes. Besides which, having spent an entire night with him, albeit with him on the floor and her on her mattress, made her tolerance even lower than before.

"You need to be euthanized," Stein informed, not missing a beat to inform his previous partner.

"Spirit, damnit!" Marie called, hopping off the bundle and wailing the man in the gut, her mouth squished in annoyance. The fact that he'd put up two hands, holding the palms out in the universal notion for peace, was utterly and absolutely ignored. Instead, his hands found their way on his abdomen as he promptly bent double while Marie huffed, pushing him before she turned around and folded her arms.

"You're the one who should have been the wolf: you always act like a dog anyway!" Marie proclaimed, huffy.

"That is true. Spirit is the one who has more canine traits," Asuza agreed, partly to placate her friend, though also because she'd genuinely made the connection.

"Including poor dental health," Stein added.

"H-hey-" Spirit started, straightening up and wincing when he felt how bruised he was going to be, later.

"And he humps anything that moves. And most things that don't," Marie continued, looking over her shoulder.

"That's not-"

"Temperamental. He clearly didn't go to obedience school," Azusa commented, shifting her glasses.

"Sto-"

"He had worms-"

"Alright! Alright!" Spirit cut in, effectively interrupting Stein who had the creepiest grin on his face. "Death, you never let up."

Marie turned around fully, settling between Azusa and Stein, still glaring in a way that made it seem as though her singular eye was practically drilling through Spirit. Stein looked more than a little proud and certainly amused, and Azusa merely took off her glasses and cleaned the lenses, settling them back on her face when there wasn't a single speck left on them.

"Why are we still here, anyway?" Marie asked, looking around. "I thought we'd have to go through and then we can be released. How are we supposed to move on to the next story?"

"Technically," Azusa cut in, "we haven't completed this one."

Two pairs of eyes plus Marie's singular looked over at Stein, Marie opening her mouth to remind him that he hadn't said his line, but he only zeroed in on the shoddy log-cabin he'd spent the night in. Of all the options to complete the fairy tale, most of them seemed unpleasant: either he ended up Death by Azusa's hand, of all people, or he'd have to humiliate himself. He supposed he could at least do the lesser of the evils first, hoping it would work just as well. Slowly, moving as though to give Marie ample opportunity to realize that her work would come tumbling down, he found his way to the side of the shack and leaned back.

It would have been more impressive had he not put so much effort into the kick, but when the dust settled, revealing a pile of sticks and rubble, it had the same effect.

Marie's mouth dropped open. She knew her home had to be demolished, since that's what happened in the story, but she didn't even have the opportunity to say goodbye.

". . .that's one way to do it," Spirit started and Azusa was about to point out that it wasn't how the story ended, but she was cut off by Marie's whine.

Her lip was jutting out, pouting at the fact that all her hard work had gone to crumble. She'd been getting attached to the place: she could almost envision having a life in the dismal excuse for a house. It was at least picturesque, fitting beautifully next to the charred hole that Spirit ended up with, but it was still ruined.

In her mourning, head bowed, she couldn't help but notice that the ground looked to be shimmering, though she immediately blamed it on her eye watering.

It was only the yelp that shrieked in her ears, Spirit's, which gave her warning as the floor opened up beneath her, deconstructing right beneath her feet. She gasped, the sudden swoop in her stomach making her feel sick, the panic knotting in her throat. And when she threw her hand out to reach for some sort of leverage, she caught only air.