Enter generic disclaimer of sadness here. We don't own shit.. Blah blah.. Blah blah.

Cassiopeia has been entirely overhauled as of 3/18/2015 before this point. If you have read the story before that point go back and read hers if you don't want to be confused later. Sorry about that.


Cassiopeia

My dream body is 5 years old now. I'm beginning to think this is more of a simulation or a dream one has when they're comatose than a simple night's sleep type of dream. It's been going on for far too long, I should have woken up by now. I still have no clues as to how to wake up or even get anywhere in my research involving the process of getting home, even as the library was finally opened for my perusal by my mother after my father died last summer. I wonder if he could have survived if I hadn't stolen his wand trying to open the library doors all those years ago. I never did give it back, and I did steal at least 14 more from him that he procured as replacements. He really should have been more careful with his things, especially those as important as his wand. Or maybe he just underestimated me because I'm female, he always did say he wanted a boy.

Oh well, not my problem anymore.

My mother has begun taking me to work with her, she works in a store as an enchantress focusing on things called Runes and Arithmancy. Apparently she doesn't want to leave me in the house alone with the house elves, the technical term for the floppy eared bastards, anymore. She's become rather protective since that bastard's death, which really inhibits my plans to escape from here. So far I've been using the daily trips to her store to scout around and try to figure out where we are in the world, though judging by the accents we're in England somewhere, Cheshire, England to be precise.

Unfortunately I can't do the type of instantaneous travel that my mother can, and to be honest I'm not sure if I want to. It's absolutely nauseating. In fact all travel here is kind of nauseating to the point where if I didn't need to gather information about the world I would probably just stay home and read in the big-ass library downstairs. And because of this I'm still stuck on Part 2 of my escape plan. Nothing I've tried so far has worked, and I have a feeling that nothing I can do right now will.

I finally found what a metamorphmagus was too. It's a person that can change their features to look like anything they can imagine, along with their hair color and length. From experimentation I figured out the most I could change my height by was a few inches, and the further I got from my normal form the more clumsy I become. It's also a pretty rare talent, so mother has me keep it hidden when we go into public for "my own protection". The most I could get away with is changing a few streaks of my hair to different colors, and even then she gets mad. It seems like she's waiting for something bad to happen to us, my father's death really spooked her. I'm never told anything, of course, but she has the entire manor on lockdown and hardly ever lets me out of her sight.

She seems astonished by my "progress" in my studies, as are my various tutors, and is starting to expect me to do odd things like read large books and not ask her stupid questions like "what sound does a cow make?" or "What letter comes after G?" For fucks sake I'm almost 33 now. Obviously I'm going to accelerate my studies in this nonsense. I already have two masters degrees from my first life. What more do you want from me woman?

I flopped down on one of the couches in the reading nook attached to the library with a huff.

"Ladies do not flop Cassiopeia!" Her voice floated through my head.

"Who ever said I was a lady?" I mumbled to myself quietly. I'm really starting to hate this lady crap. When am I ever going to use this? Why is my subconscious wanting me to act like a lady? This is definitely the strangest dream I've ever had. I looked to the corner of the nook I was in, and noticed my violin. Apparently all ladies can play at least one instrument, and so mother started me on the violin and the piano shortly before father died. I have moderate talent with both, and can now avoid making screechy noises with my violin. Mother listens to me play sometimes when she isn't busy but always has this soft, sad look on her face when I play the violin. For all her preaching I've never even seen her touch an instrument unless she's enchanting it, and even then she handles them as swiftly and avoiding as much contact as possible. There's a story behind this somewhere, and for the life of me I can't figure it out.

I sure as hell can't ask either, as she just gives me a stern look and parrots the phrase "Ladies never pry" before primly flouncing off. I'm so done with this dream bullshit. Someone get me out of here. I must have had family somewhere. Are they looking for me? Will they wake me up? Unless they're here too. And if they are can they help me? I have to look into this. Somehow.

Honestly. Like, fuck this shit.


Eulalie

I was playing ball with a few of my neighborhood friends while their parents were over my house for one of their fancy parties. While I love those kinds of parties, where people drink tea with their pinkies out and munch on tiny little squares of food, my time in this new life of mine made me realize just how much I miss being a little kid again. So there's no rush for those little squares just yet.

I toss the ball over to Agnes, a girl that I am best friends with. It bounces softly on the dirt then makes it's way towards her. She catches it with outstretched arms and a giggle, and my child instincts make me giggle and clap. Agnes throws it over to Sylvie, who is quite possible the meanest bitch in all of Nantes. Why she doesn't like us, I don't know. But I know that her father is some wealthy, influential person, and alas I must deal with Her Majesty.

Again the ball bounces softly, and makes its way to Sylvie, but Sylvie, the klutz that she is, accidentally bounces it while trying to catch it and it rolls away from her. Agnes and I let out a little giggle by accident, but by the time we catch ourselves it was too late. Sylvie heard it.

Luckily Sylvie didn't see me, but she caught Agnes red-handed. She stomped over to Sylvie with a face scrunched up like a puckered butthole, and pulled on one of Agnes's pigtails. "Owwwww!" cried Agnes, man Sylvie pulled that tail hard.

I felt so bad for Agnes, and ran over to console her. "What is wrong with you Sylvie?!" I cried towards Sylvie, knowing full well the answer, that she was a messed up child.

Agnes started crying harder. And harder. I didn't want her parents to see because I don't want them to take her away from me. I touch her shoulder and try and console her wordlessly. I think about her being taken away from me, and it makes me sad. Stop crying Agnes!

Suddenly, Agnes stops crying. Like, her face immediately relaxes and she wipes her tears away. Her red, blotched face turns to me and gives a big smile. I smile back, confused.

She was crying like someone punched her in the uterus 2 seconds ago. Why was she fine now?

That didn't matter. She was fine. But I was still angry at Sylvie. That was the final straw.

I grab Agnes's hand and make her run towards the house with me. I was going to let everyone know that Sylvie was the meanest twit in all of the land.

I grab mama's hand and pull on it twice like a doorbell, and she stops her sentence and looks down at me. "What is it, Eulie?"

"Mama, Sylvie hurt Agnes and Agnes was crying really hard. Please tell Sylvie to go away."

Mama just laughed. "Oh you kids!"

"No mama. Agnes was hurt. Please tell Sylvie to go away."

Suddenly Sylvie struts in like she owns the place. I wonder why I never noticed it before, but she has a really punchable face. The nose is the perfect shape and size for an ol' five-knuckle sandwich.

That was it. Damn that stupid Sylvie.

I stared at Mama and just thought of how upset I was at Sylvie. I didn't know what else to say and was trying to muster the words. "No ple-" I started, finally finding my words, but mama's face became serious.

She grabbed my and Agnes's hand and walked over the Sylvie's mother.

"Madam, you daughter attacked my daughter's friend. Please have Sylvie apologize," she said sternly.


Ainley

"Aunt Lena?"

She looks up from the sink where she was doing the dishes and sees me standing in the doorway. Lena always does the housework. I think I remember at my parents house they had these… creatures doing all of that, but Aunt Lena always says that she never saw the need for 'house elves', (whatever those are), because it's just the two of us and not a very big house. At least, not as big as my parents' house was.

"Yes, Ainley?"

"Where is everyone? The rest of our family?"

Okay, this might be a bit nuts, sure, but I've gone back and forth in my head trying to come up with a good way to bring up the subject and nothing ever comes to mind that sounds any less crazy. So, I just figured I'd come right out with it and hope she doesn't have her five year old niece committed.

She blinks at me for a moment. "What? Ainley… You're parents are gone, you know that, sweetheart. It's just me and you."

I shake my head, "No, I wasn't talking about Mum and Da'. I meant the other ones, the other girls. I remember… sort of. There were two of them, I think. They're my age."

Lena stares at me before coming to stand in front of me and kneeling to my level. Her hand comes up to check my forehead. "Ainley, I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you ill, lass?"

I pull away from her. "No, I'm not. How can you not know? I… I'm sure they…"

I am sure, right? A couple of years ago I was, but the longer I'm here, it's like… It's as if everything I was sure about before is starting to slip away, all the things I thought I remembered before I got here... No, I refuse to believe that I'm losing my mind, goddamn it.

Aunt Lena shakes her head, "Ah, Ainley, I think you had a very strange dream last night, darling. There aren't other girls, you're an only child."

I'm getting angry now, and I curl my hands into fists and stomp my foot. "No! I know it's not a dream!"

"Then it's your overactive imagination again." She says dismissively. By now she's gone back over to the sink and doesn't even look at me.

"Ugh! No!" I have to make her understand. Then I'll know I'm not crazy. "It's not my imagination, Lena. They're real, I know it! I'm not supposed to be here!"

Before Aunt Lena gets a chance to turn and scold me for yelling at her, the drawer next to her opens by itself and one of the knifes comes zooming toward me at top speed, landing directly into my hand. I stare at it for a second.

What the hell?

"Ainley!" Lena comes toward me and snatches the knife back. I look up at her, eyes wide. At first she looks shocked and a little frightened, but then her expression changes to something I don't recognize. She looks at the knife to the open drawer and then back at me. When she looks at me, she seems to relax a bit, as if she suddenly understands what happened.

"Aunt Lena, what just happened? How did I… I'm sorry!"

"Sh, lass, it's alright. It's normal, don't be sorry." She smiles slightly before hugging me and leaving the kitchen.

Wait, what? I just made a piece of cutlery, a sharp one at that, fly toward me and Aunt Lena says it's normal? The fuck?

Maybe I'm not the crazy one, after all.