Cultural Bias

by OCfan11

The phenomenon of interpreting and judging phenomena by standards inherent to one's own culture. An example could be: World A uses magical coffins as a way to safely transport students to one of its most prestigious magical academies. Person from magicless World B wakes up in a floating coffin and promptly decides they've been kidnapped in an isekai plot they want no part of.

4. 1 - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Regale hops off the back of the transport truck, making her way over to where B is in the shade watching the cows graze. The woman drops her bags next to the part-time herder, returning the greeting as she sits and rummages through her new items. A two small bags are practically shoved at B, "Here you go. And your change."

"I appreciate this," B says, unwilling to point out how this is probably the furthest act of trust she's given anyone in this world. It's nearing the middle of November and B continues to sleep with objects in front of all possible entrances. It took a lot of nerves to ask Regale to use the money B's earned to buy the equivalent of a pocket-space while in town. The tattooed woman was half expecting Regale to come back with 'magical' beans. "So I just-"

B moves the shoulder straps of Grace's hand-me-down overalls off, careful as she pulls the fabric to see underneath. She slips the bag – half the size of her hand – under the magical black pant fabric, tying the drawstring around her underwear. Once secure, she pulls everything back into place and forces out the word she's been practicing, "Inventory."

The tattoo on her ear lights up, but the throat one does not activate. B jumps a little when a three-by-three, opaque screen appears in front of her. The nearly empty coin purse goes into a slot, and the screen disappears.

Cheap material and magic, but it suits her needs. Trying to repress the oh my goodness it's magic, so cool, response isn't perfect, but the remaining smile isn't out of place. B lazes back in the shade, eyes on the herd as she asks, "How was the city?"

"Busy," Regale sighs and lies down, head falling into B's lap. "The Valley of Thorns is being brazen, picking and choosing to cut off a lot of trade routes. It's going to be a hassle trying to get everything shipped around them. That's not even the worst of it." Voice lowers, as if to share a secret, "Apparently a huge monster has been spotted in the forests around here recently."

B makes a face at the thought of being dragged out of the protective bubble, "Will the village have to make a hunting party?"

"Not this time. According to the delivery we got, it's a classified four-star. We're not to leave town again until the representatives from the Magical Force deal with it."

B has no idea who the Magical Force are but, in a ranking system of five-stars, this monster hiding beyond the farmland's walls must be powerful. Anything with one or two stars can be dealt with by a single person and a decent weapon. Three-stars are rare, and only because they're in the this-world's equivalent of the boonies is it possible for the elders here to give firsthand accounts of the last four-star sighting.

Full five-star ranks are things of mythos. Creatures locked in long-lost tombs or made-up to scare children in the dangers of corrupted magic. Overblots is a term spoken rarely and always with fear. B doesn't ask what they mean, only managing to understand that all overblots are five-star threats.

"Yikes," B responds because that seems appropriate. Got to keep answers vague enough to prompt replies. "At least you do not have to leave any time soon?"

"I guess. It will mess with our trade though. If the Magical Force doesn't deal with it fast enough, then maybe Crewel will finally show his face around here."

The name sounds familiar. The family name of the man who owns these lands. It's stitched into several clothes throughout the house, items from his fashion line. There are plenty of words B has learned through osmosis, her vocal cords getting used to manually creating the different words while several sentences no longer initiate translations through her marked ear. Reading and writing have been the most difficult to adjust to, as videogames are her only source for learning it. B has memorized how to spell Crewel because it is the only constant written word in her day-to-day life.

Doesn't make her feel any less twitchy at the sound of the name. It always reminds her just what this place seems to be based on. The moment she leaves the protective bubble, Cruella De Vil will play in her head and she'll be forced to think on how she's currently living on the land of a Disney villain if only in spirit.

There has been no animal abuse, but that means nothing to a psyche that grew up knowing 101 Dalmatians. The fact that there's a curse on this place, that dalmatians can only be born under this bubble, makes B feel sick every time it is brought up. The people here accept it as the way things are.

She doesn't want to be the one to fix it, though. Doesn't want to fix the world that kidnapped her, no matter how it eats and claws at her.

Don't be a hero.

"I mean, worst comes to worst, we can get the town to keep bothering him so he will come home for the winter break."

Things settle back to monotony in the following days. B learns more about her new pocket storage, playing around and being decidedly more creative than anyone around her. Supposedly, the pocket holds up to nine things plus exact duplicates. Almost like a game inventory. However, what happens is that B wraps up all her things in a blanket and stuffs it in the statis pocket.

The label reads: Misc. Objects in a Blanket.

Which leads to using three of the nine slots. One for everything in a blanket, one for coins in a small drawstring, and the final for water bottles in a pillowcase.

This magic, B thinks, is fun. Terrifying, but fun.

It's the middle of the week when she comes back into town and spots a crowd forming in the most trafficked square. Most are children, running up to the person in the center. With her sight better than before, B can make out the animal ears on the person long before her pause is noticed by anyone.

Fake it 'till you make it, B smiles and asks a nearby villager what's happening.

"Oh good, you're just in time. Pollux is looking for everyone in town with a bit of magic."

"What?" B doesn't struggle much as she's pulled towards the center. Closer, she notices the very uncomfortable faces of the two local magic users. "Why would we be needed?"

While outwardly she looks fine-if-a-bit-confused, her inner monologed has switched to a repeat of curse words and warning sirens.

"I don't know, he can explain."

Pollux is a dalmatian therian, complete with spotted dog ears and a tail. The physical features aren't as weird as the translation for whatever the actual word of the species is, because in B's world therians are humans who have a spiritual or psychological identity as an animal. It is also the name of a Pokémon form and – if she remembers correctly – is the name of a subclass of mammals. After seeing this-world's therians in a videogame, she's never voiced that maybe it should have been beastmen. If the species name doesn't translate into that, there's a reason. B is not courageous enough to ask why.

"Hello!" Pollux shakes her hand, practically vibrating with excitement. "I'm Pollux, a member of the Magical Force. I also grew up here; it's nice to see new faces! I've been told you have a bit of magic. Luck-based?"

"Some days are better luck than others."

He laughs, "It works all the same for what I need. Magical energy is just that, after all. So no need to worry, and I'd love to ask a few questions after this. Luck-based magic is rare, after all. It's so hard to pin down, you know?"

"Yes," B forces her smile to stay, those inner warning sirens blaring like there's been a nuclear meltdown. She really needs to find more information on magic. "What do you mean… 'after this'?"

"Ah, well, I am here to deal with the four-star that's been spotted in the northern forests. I just need you all to stand nearby in case I have to use more magic than expected. It's nothing to worry about!"

B would heavily disagree, but since no one else is she keeps silent and follows the herd to literal hovering broomsticks. Pollux gets on a fancy, colourful one while the townspeople hand over broomsticks to the tagalongs. The woman swallows, harsh and scared. The excitement of flying on broomsticks overshadowed by the application of flying on broomsticks. This whole experience is going to be uncomfortable and awful and she wants it over now, thanks.

From behind her, a familiar voice asks, "Never ridden one before?"

B turns to the Diamond sisters, answering Regale with an honest, "Not one that flies."

It gets a laugh from them both, Grace giving a reassuring hug and a, "Let's swap stories in a ladies' night tonight."

The tattooed woman manages a shaky smile and a breathy, "sure thing," in return. One leg on either side of the wooden handle, both hands losing colour from such a tight grip. "Any tips?"

"It may be cheap," Grace lowers her voice so the broom's owner cannot hear, "but the magic is still good at reading intent. You'll be fine."

Regale steps up, eyebrows scrunched in worry, "We can get you a sword."

"I shouldn't need one," B denies instantly. They all say she is a natural, but even so she sees no reason to wave around a weapon when she'd rather run. "I just have to stand back and look pretty. If I need a sword, it's already too late."

The Diamond sisters groan, giving one last 'good luck' as Pollux heavily suggests it's time to leave. B focuses forwards, breathing as even as she can before she kicks off the ground. It's almost a jolt when she doesn't fall back down, expression turning to awe in the face of pure magic. Not even the uncomfortableness of sitting on a broom brings this moment down.

When the others begin to fly off, she goes slow. An upward angle to rise above the crowd. By thought, the broom shifts trajectory before she can apply pressure to it. Then she bends her arms a bit. A bit more, leaning closer to the handle. Laughs into the wind as the broom picks up speed.

B is last in the line but catching up easy. There's a misting-like tingle while passing through the barrier, the song she expects begins looping in the back of her mind, but B doesn't dare look anywhere but forwards because of the fear the broom will take it to mean that way. All too soon, they are lowering into the forest below. Pollux waits until they have touched down before getting off his broom and explaining, "Keep a hold of your brooms. We're going to have to walk a while until either we find the four-star or it finds us."

One of the villagers asks, "What happens if it finds us?"

"I'll be able to keep it back," Pollux beams at them. "Just make sure to keep behind me. I won't be able to use any magic you give off otherwise."

They fall silent, B and the village men giving concerned glances to each other. For nearly ten minutes of walking in circles, all B can hear are their footsteps and Cruella De Vil playing on repeat. No animals, no insects, no breeze. Nothing she has become used to inside the bubble. It's as though the world has become a vacuum, or maybe chunks of it removed. Or never there to begin with.

The song in her head skips tracks, and it is so jarring B stops to look around. One by one the men realize she's not there anymore, each stopping to look back.

"What's wrong?" Pollux drawls.

There's a new song in her head. Something she has heard but doesn't remember the name of. Before she can stop, the woman demands, "Do you hear that?"

The men look to each other, shaking their heads. "No."

As she goes to look at them, her eyes catch on darkness where light should be. Her mind does not indulge the idea of shade from the trees. Instead, she stares at the dark, dark, darkness with growing horror. Slowly looks up and meets the horror of horrors, thirty eyes staring down at her.

Mind too terrified to count, B can't even wonder how she knows the number.

There's a boom as the thing leaps through the trees. B screams and drops her broom as she dives to the side. Manages to get on all fours in time to see it chomp down on the wood, the handle breaking into pieces as the creature either tries to hold it like a stick or eat its way through the material. Maybe both.

The creature, completely black with white pustules forming and exploding all over it's back, stands at least ten feet tall and is shaped with four legs and fifteen barbed tails. B rolls out of the way of a lash, darting for a tree and trying to see if there's a way to regroup with the others. She can hear their screaming but can't make sense of it. The eyes on the center of its forehead separate, half filtering to her side and avoiding the pustule wounds as they jostle. It roars and snarls like a starving dog, white dripping through glistening black teeth in a mockery of saliva.

What does it really look like? B wonders and wishes for a moment she had a camera. No more time to think as the creature turns its behind to her, tails lashing out for her tree. She ducks and weaves, trying to make it to the others, but the eyes are splitting again and following down the tails from both sides of the body. There doesn't seem to be a limited range, some tails growing longer while others shrink and reach for her no matter the distance. Soon, the area has turned into a clearing of splinters and she's dodging tails instead of falling trees. Four of the tails are spread, creating a wall as the others either slice or try to grab her.

Fifteen eyes on her, the tails only move two or three at a time with the blisters appearing less and less, whatever they drip disappearing before it hits the ground.

It's stomach, held high off the ground, doesn't drip anything. And there are no eyes.

This is a terrible idea, B thinks before she starts sprinting towards the creature. Even the tails seem taken aback for a moment, pausing in their onslaught. Her only hope of outrunning the creature lies with the brooms, and any chance of defeating it would lie with the Magical Force employee.

Jump, dive, roll around the tails. Jump. Jump. Then B pushes all she can into sprinting under the creature. Lean back, foot kicking behind opposite knee, the woman tucks her arms to her chest and slides onto her back under the mass of inky darkness. She slows just as the first of the eyes begins to crawl under. Still, the edge of its chest passes her view, and in a moment of cheeky desperation B pops up to lay a punch square on the lowering jaw.

The creature yelps and she gets pulled to behind Pollux by the two village magic users. The only competent mage between them all appears to stare at her instead of the creature of nightmares, "How are you alive?!"

"Later," she snaps. Points determinedly at the thing that looks more than angry that she made it by the tails. All fifteen of said tails are lifting like a halo of darkness as the eyes travel to the front once more. "Deal with that first!"

Pollux nods and turns. Waves his hands and creates small icicles. Only, instead of aiming for the eyes or pustules, throws them at the thing's leg.

B can't help the horrified, "What are you doing?!"

"Weakening it!"

"By hitting the legs?! Aim for the eyes! The blisters! Anything else!"

The men on either side of her turn to face her. Pollux asks, "What are you talking about?!"

B does a quick look to all of them. Can't help the dying noise or, "You guys can't seem them."

"See what?!"

"Aim for the forehead!"

Pollux does and the creature howls, stumbling back as an eye shuts and droops down to the stomach. Then the creature comes back charging for them all, two of the tails extending into spikes.

"That just made it angrier!" Pollux shouts as he throws up an ice spike to hold it back.

"It worked though! The eye is damaged! If the other ones go, it won't be able to see!"

Pollux curses and starts to sweat, icicle spears appearing from the ground to hold the creature back. At least until it begins stomping on them. "It's on the attack and I can't see these so-called eyes! I can't do anything unless it gets distracted."

B gets a very, very terrible idea. "Can you do one big shot at its forehead?"

"Sure, but it will take time to form something that large."

"Then I'm going to pull a distraction noodle. Don't hit me."

Before anyone can ask what that means, B dashes out and waves her arms. The creature flinches away, and then growls at her with all the tails lifting behind it like a scorpion ready to strike. B stops before the ice spears, resolute to keep the all eyes forward and on her but needing cover just in case.

Then she sings- shouts, "We'll have a dalmatian plantation!"

Just like that, the creature falls silent. No wind, no insects, no animal noises to fill the background. Just B's heavy breathing as she shouts the next verse of the song in her head. "Where our population can roam!"

She continues the song – Dalmatian Plantation – as the distraction seems to work. The tails hover overhead like lazy stingers, bopping to the beat. The twenty-nine eyes watch her with unnerving focus. The blisters pop and regrow at a slower rate. B repeats the song over and over and over-

The woman isn't sure what happens next. There's a blast of cold that has her dropping flat on the ground. The creature howls as its sight is destroyed by the massive icicle, and the sound turns from a painful, angry note to something panicked as several beads of multicoloured light take position around it. B has to shield her eyes while getting up, unable to make out the shouts Pollux is saying behind her.

There's a boom, shaking the earth. B stumbles on her feet, squinting. Squeaking as something rushes past her and to the people behind. She cannot see what, eyes closed at the flickering of light and dark, but it feels like insects crawling over her skin. Only when it's gone does she dare gasp for breath and open her eyes.

The clearing is quiet once more, and there is no one there.

"What-" B gasps and turns on her heel, "What was that?"

The two men from the village are looking at her, stunned, but Pollux-

He has eyes now.

She's sure her own expression mirrors their shock. B goes to lift her hands – maybe to ward off, maybe to reach out – but pauses as they catch her eye.

As she sees the colour.

Blue.

Her skin is a fading blue. A shade of blue that shouldn't be possible on human skin.

Pollux says a word. B jolts at the translation.

At her name.

He says the word again, and she bolts into the forest. Ignores their calls and runs faster.

It was nice while it lasted.

;;;

Run.

It takes a long time to realize she isn't tired.

By then, she's used the setting sun to determine north and has avoided any attempts to find her via the broom riders.

It takes even longer to realize she isn't hungry or thirsty.

What happened to me?

Run.

;;;

Either the group had travelled further than she thought on the brooms or her running was faster than initially thought. B finally slows at a trick of the light, and then she falls to the ground as her legs give out. Deep breaths into autumn leaves, the cold November air finally registering as her heartrate begins to slow from its marathon. She checks again, but her skin hasn't been blue since the day before. The ability to see in the dark has long since faded with the night, and noon on a cloudy day means the thing at the forest's edge really is there.

A wall of inky darkness. It reminds her of an out-of-bounds wall that videogames would have; a place where the main character was not supposed to cross.

B squeezes her eyes shut and rests a bit more on the ground. Now that she's stopped, there is a bone deep weariness sinking into her.

Tired.

Maybe a bit hungry, maybe a bit thirsty. Nothing near what a human should need. Not even a sliver of the consistency she had just days ago.

With a groan, B gets to her feet. Does not think about the time when she was first fleeing and didn't need to breathe. Nope, none of that. Probably just too panicked, maybe this body has a skill of shallow breathing while running. Right, instead of putting any energy into remembering the last twenty-four hours, B walks over to the giant wall of pure darkness and spares a small shred of hope that this is the entrance to the Forsaken Wastes. The place no one wanted to mention.

The place that no one should follow into.

Her fingers ghost over the ink, no reflection as faint waves cress and go flat at her touch. Nothing sticks to skin, the texture thin like some kind of glaze rather than the tar it appears like. No smell, no temperature. Something that exists, but almost as though it pretends not to.

The woman pulls away and looks back. Up at the blue sky, grey clouds, and bright sun. For one, solid moment, considers going back. Back to staying up late painting nails and chatting with friends. Earning some money and learning more about the world at a steady rate. Survival with the starts of living.

I'm sorry.

B turns back to the wall with the echo of her real name in her head.

Time to move on.

Finger first, then hand. The wall is thinner than a whole arm's length, so she pushes through with ease. The utter silence is the first thing to register. Next, B's flailing a bit at the shift in light, falling to her knees with a burst of fear that maybe there is no light at all. Then her eyes adjust.

Clouds, dark as thunderstorm or the moment between sunset and night, littering the sky so barely anything can shine through. What does is a pure white, illuminating parts of the land before fading it back into a hard-to-see-through grey. Under her hands – clenching into fists – is dry and dead feeling dirt. No leaves or grass, no dust or fog. The air is the cleanest she's ever breathed, and the world around her the most leeched she's ever seen.

Radiation?

Getting to her feet, B doesn't discount it. It feels wrong in a world of magic but radiation might make sense if nothing can live or survive here. She cannot see if her skin has tinted the same blue as before, her hair hasn't started falling out, and there is no heat, cold, sickness, or anything effecting this body. Maybe an apocalyptic wasteland not recovered, maybe something else. A slow acting poison.

She looks at the barrier behind her. Breathes a shaky sigh and starts to where shadows of crumbling buildings are highlighted on the horizon. There will be regrets and 'what if's later – B knows this in her bones – but she will not be deterred. The plan is to keep going north, north-east at worst, and cross the small blip of Valley of Thorns' territory in order to reach Savannah Afterglow. There is enough food and water in her pocket-space to stretch a week; a few things to sell and some blankets that may not need use while in this barely-lukewarm stretch of land. B drags up a mental map from what feels like ages ago and starts to jog, much to the protest of her body.

If she is going to die – if this place is going to kill her – then it will at least be her choice to walk into it.

To run away from the life she could have started.

It doesn't even take an hour for the waterworks to start. The first stumble into the desolate village with cartoon-like rock walls, and B staggers to hold herself up against one. With blurry vision, forces herself inside one with a manageable roof and a working door. She sits tucked against the far wall, watching nothing until the tears well over.

Sobs, "I'm sorry."

Yet for her, it is much too easy to be the one who runs away. All the village will hear of is whatever Pollux and the others tell them. They may hate her, they may worry, they may assist or restart whatever hunt B had left behind when she fled the coffin room, if there was ever a hunt at all.

She could have been safe.

The way they had looked at her after defeating the creature-

-B shakes her head and gets ready for some sleep. She may be sorry to have left without a word, but not that she left at all.

That was always the plan. Couldn't stay there forever.

Sudden change is hard. The run through the night finally taking its toll, B isn't sure how long she sleeps as the world looks the same when she awakens. The same and yet, now with sore eyes and regret talking a back seat to survival, the differences are striking. B raps her knuckles on the cartoonishly large stones below and around her. They are solid, echoing muffled like true stone. She crawls to the door and tries it. The fake-looking wood reverberates like real wood.

B leans back. Allows herself a moment and a single, loud expletive-turned-squeak. Then gathers her things, barely managing to stuff it all in the pocket space before she's out the door. Under the rolling, clouded sky, finds a piece of glass large enough to catch her reflection. The relief strikes like lightening; the body is still the same, the black outfit has not changed.

This place is some mostly-monochromic, cartoon or theme park, post-apocalyptic wasteland, but it hasn't changed her yet. B backtracks her footsteps to the edge of town, determines her direction, and starts off. The handful of houses fall away, but soon she realizes that those just happened to be the ones still standing. Outlines for bases of structures litter the ground. Some pantries or cellars are wide open, the stairs rotted or broken into solid pieces like one would see in animated shows. In a moment of brave curiosity, B peeks in one. Near-empty shelves, broken glass, and scraps of fabrics.

She doesn't check again. Hurries through the once-city, passing shells of what could have been cars or furniture scattered amongst the ruins. Spots a few lone trees in what may have once been a park. B almost wants to guess that some sort of bomb went off, but the distribution of objects still there does not make any sense. There's nothing taller than an upright lamppost, no doors on anything the further she goes, and every third or fourth block appears to have some houses.

Maybe a pattern I cannot see, B wonders. Something from above, or properties of the buildings being eaten away?

There are no answers for her here. Only more questions as something in the distance flickers. B slows, eventually making out stitches in the ground. It lies frayed in the ground just meters away from the city's edge. Looks as though one hard pull will break all the ties in the ground. The image itself flashes at random. A blank, endless darkness like the wall containing this place, then flickers for a second to a city on top of white clouds. There are people on the other side of the flickering image, all of them floating or flying in a city atop the clouds.

With the silence of this world so obvious, B can almost believe she's tricking herself to hear static. Covers her ears, and realizes it is indeed coming from the flicker.

How come they don't see me?

She doesn't try shouting, too unnerved at seeing the damaged hole in this reality. Starts jogging to what she thinks is north, taking her mind off by counting. Three hours later, reaches another destroyed city with no aspects of this place changed. Same moments of light bursting through the cloud coverage to provide moments of colour. The only sounds are what B makes. No signs of life.

She stops under the shelter of a ruined store for a snack and water break. Finally lets herself put thought towards-

What was that back in the forest-

What has happened-

What is this place-

What- what- how- why me?!

Questions and theories, one after another, bombard B as she twists an arm out. Black, white, and all the shades of grey around here. It is hard to stay detached and think through the questions, stomach churning at how this place is different and she is different even from it.

Why can no one see the creatures the way I do? Could be her body, magic, or something else. Different world, different rules. The fact she can hear the songs, knows that there were thirty eyes-

Why is that important? Can't focus on how she could possibly know the amount without counting. Why is that important? Thirty eyes. Divisors: one and thirty, two and fifteen, three and ten, five and six. It split in half to watch her, but they acted independently-

How would the 101 dalmatians be sorted?

B stiffens, wracking her brain. It's been so long. Who were named? Who were original or lumped together?

Amalgamation.

Minimum fifteen brains if every dog had at most two eyes.

The woman squeezes her eyes shut, head dropping onto the wall as she pushes the theories aside. Hopes she is wrong. There was no proof of the dwarves being monsters when visiting the mine, and there is a lot about this world she doesn't know. Just because the dog-like, thirty-eyed creature has a personal song does not mean it is like the cruel idea her mind has jumped to.

Please, do not let it be worse.

She breathes, things tucked away, messaging legs that hurt more than usual.

Why blue?

She has an idea. Will deny it because- No.

I am human.

It is just a coincidence. Must be a coincidence.

The running? Seeing in the dark?

Some kind of magic. Right? In a world of magic, it should not be impossible. Who knows what this body is capable of- don't think about it.

Gets on her feet and walks. Can avoid the mall but not the strip. Broken dolls and torn fabrics, shattered glass and destroyed properties. Everything, from the mangled lamppost to kickable pebbles, looks like it would belong in a cartoon. As relieved as it is to look untouched in a reflection, B is the odd thing out. She halts for another deep breath, unsure if she is the caricature or uncanny valley in this land.

Unwilling to linger but already pushing limits, B doesn't have the blood pounding in her ears from walking. Can hear a muffled noise that has her stopping once more. The sound continues, dragging footsteps on pavement. Conflicted and frozen – wanting to not be alone yet afraid of interaction – means B does nothing more than wait with shallow breaths as the sound comes closer. Movement from around a crumbling wall, and it takes only a second to register the creature.

Black, goopy, humanoid body. Completely yellow eyes giving off light like an older lamp and bulb. The face is forever rippling features in the goop, but it isn't distracting enough to ignore the gaping maw that quickly stretches open at least two hand's width downwards. In the moment it takes to register the creature, the thing's sights have locked on to B.

Then it screams.

B grunts, covering her ears as her eyes water. Bolts away, her back to the creature and hurrying to where there has been the most cover. The mall, its three floors barely standing, has enough of a door for her to feel comfortable barricading it shut with rubble. The creature never followed, but B isn't going to pretend to feel safe. A scream that loud was either to alert, wake up, or both. She is careful picking her way further into the mall, because if one creature roams the world then others likely do too.

She is in the remains of a sporting goods store when the floor below jerks hard enough to knock her onto all fours. Practice from earthquake drills has her ducking for the nearest cover, a knocked over shelf resting against a cashier's desk. She hides in the empty space, grasping the plastic bag holder just in time for another long tremble. B awaits the end with eyes open.

The room lights up, likely from the crack in the ceiling two floors up. It is still very dark in her corner as the tremors stop. B doesn't move, catching her breath and trying to redirect the I'm going to die thoughts to I'm alive.

"I see your footprints."

B shoves her hands over her mouth, breath more a stifled gasp now. She understood the words, but the voice- how did it- what is it?

"I know you are in this city, little morsel." The tone is like an overlap. Where it could sound masculine, her mind quickly tricks to hear feminine, and vice versa. What could be static is clear, calm then angry, quiet but shouting, and all reverse. "Come out and face me. I won't hurt you."

If B wasn't scared of people before, she sure is now.

"I am nothing like the rumors. I do not hurt those who can do as I ask. Where are you, little morsel? If you can help me, I would be glad to help you. How will you be leaving otherwise?" the voice laughs.

B shuts her eyes and silently begins to count. Something to split her mind as she waits and edges her fear into something manageable. Eventually the voice cuts out the platitudes and subtle threats. It tries demands and ultimatums, saying the monsters are already flocking to the city. Hours of constant threats, demoralization, and an aching body, and finally the voice leaves. She knows this not because of the goodbye, but because of the light dimming away as another earthquake rocks the mall. A wall falls in another store, and not long after the shaking stops does the woman roll out of her hiding place. Careful to move between shadowed spots, B climbs to the second floor, getting as close as she dares to a window.

The voice didn't lie. Like a swarm of ants, the goop creatures shuffle through the streets. Only the streets. None go into buildings and their treads have wiped away any of B's footsteps. The woman eases away, low to the ground and tucking away in a dark corner. Regrets are coming but she doesn't linger on the feeling as she wonders how to get out.

The sewers are the last-ditch effort. Too much risk of things crawling around there in wait. Her mind flashes to videogames and movies. Even if it would likely be the safest place from whatever created the light and voice, she is more afraid of the sewers than if she grappled down somewhere.

The only option is to be sure of her next decision.

Now, to explore and figure out what is there to work with.

;;;

B knows she loses time. No clocks, no night and day, no idea how long she sleeps between searching and ideas. Rations are stretched further and further. If she had to guesstimate, it has been at least a week. Likely more. If her current idea doesn't work, she may just crack open the sewers to see what's down there.

One thing she's figured out, is that the voice is coming from somewhere in the sky. In one of the many rumblings that had her ducking for cover, B could see the reflection in a broken window of the sky splitting open. Clouds pulling apart like eyelids, the yellow beams spreading from it like the goopy creatures' eyes. The world shakes just before the eyes open and crumbles a bit more when the eyes close.

Even if the sky-person turns out to be friendly behind the insults and threats, B isn't taking the chance. She won't risk being spotted, so fighting the goop creatures is out. No matter how much rope or supplies she finds, the strip is too crumbled to protect her from the eyes in the sky. Everything else above ground is too far away to reach. If this wasn't a cartoon horrorscape, then logic would dictate the sewers her only real chance.

This world is one with magic, and even cartoon physics imply there is always another way. B finds the flickering space-anomaly in the inordinately sized, broken fish tank of a pet store. The stitches below it are torn and barely there, the imprints of where some used to be are cartoonishly bloated. The ones still hanging in there are what B expects, like how she still looks realistic and not caricatured. Between its default of an endless black, the flickering image the hole-in-space is a white-sand, ocean front view.

Nothing, however, is as out-of-place as the sewer cap behind the tear. Blue and yellow int he midst of grey, even though no light touches it. There are no skylight openings in the pet store, no crumbling roof or walls. Only the door to the rest of the mall. A safe place, no matter how paranoid B is about something eventually popping up in the room without warning.

Her hands shake while threading a needle, all stolen from what might have been an arts and crafts store. One good thing about the cartoonish features is the giant hole in the needle. The woman ties it all up and breathes out the first words she's spoken since the day the voice appeared, "Please let this work."

It shouldn't. The ground is solid concrete and the needle is a pinkie's length of feeble metal, never mind getting it to wrap around a space anomaly. B sticks it in an empty hole, flinching as she feels the tool bend. It comes out the other end of the anomaly with a shift in flicker-image's sand. Then B is flinching, scrambling away as the needle moves by an unknown force. The ground shakes, the spool turns quickly, and with wide eyes the human watches the portal flicker more and more until the beach is mostly a steady sight.

The empty spool rolls into her feet, the needle flying off into a pile of glass when there's nothing left to thread. It shouldn't have worked. None of that should have been possible.

The ground finishes shaking and B's lunging through the portal as soon as it's back from a flicker. She flinches hitting the cool sand, music cutting into an abrupt start in her head. Curls up more as the start of a loud, roaring insult is cut off. B blinks dumbly for a long while, expecting to see a tear in space where there is none. She crawls over and hesitantly pulls the shredded strings out of the sand.

Allows herself a loud expletive-squeak because what. Just. Happened?

Back in a world full of colour. Temperature, ocean wave background noises, and – most importantly – no sky-person hurling upsetting words around. All B has to worry about are the monsters and blots, the oddly violent dual-language song in her head, and maybe finding out just where exactly she landed.

A beach, cloudy, a chill but no breeze. Unless time passed differently, it's edging for winter if not there already. Best bet would be to find another stitched anomaly that can drop her somewhere warm, or at least close to the warmer kingdoms. In the meantime, she'll need food, water, and shelter. Hopefully before the ocean reveals some more of her terrible luck by freezing over; B doesn't trust that this is one which keeps snow away either. She didn't memorize any maps with oceans – didn't think she'd get this far – and so will assume Frozen logic until otherwise proven.

Which means there must be some kind of fishing or ice gathering village. The song she hears only reaffirms the thought.

Follow the water.

B takes a relieved breath – flutters of happiness at being out of the Forsaken Wastes – and hops on a log. Makes a game of walking on them to test balance and travel faster than if she dragged herself through the sand. Sleeps in the trees of a thick forest line, ducks behind large rocks to avoid the sludge-like blot monsters, and jogs to keep warm.

Looks at the stars and wonders just what sort of mess this world is going through.

Two days after her arrival through the anomaly, B pauses after a jump on a log. Head tilts just a bit in curiosity and nerves. For all her time travelling, there have been no bugs or animals in the spaces between the domed lands. Any she's seen have been pets, domesticated and unable to survive without people caring for them. From what she knows, very few people travel between villages and cities without heavy safeguards, and no one ever stops in one place for more than a minute or two.

Which means the shape up ahead is something or someone washed ashore.

B drops out of the shade and into the sand, picking up a long stick as she goes. The figure becomes both more and less humanoid as she nears, until she's finally close enough to stop in shock at her first view of a mermaid.

Merperson? Octoperson? Going to stick with mermaid until told otherwise. Small town, no info backstory if needed.

Not that she thinks the person with eight tentacles for legs is waking up anytime soon. B first tries an, "Excuse me," with a voice cracking from disuse. Then she tries poking with the stick. Finally tries a small shake on a part of the person's shoulder that isn't blotched with blues, purples, or browns. His – going with male to keep up the ignorant, land dweller backstory – breathing hitches a moment but otherwise no stir. So close, B can see what are probably gills on his neck. What are probably eyelids shut and covering eyes. The vibes she is getting from the situation are almost enough to make her nope out of the situation. A beat up, unconscious tentacle mermaid on the beach, while the song Les Poisson plays in the background to make her feel some kind of worry about what would happen if she left him for the blots or worse. B deadpans at the guy's eyes-included face while she kicks off her shoes and socks, "This had better not be a reverse Little Mermaid."

He says nothing, of course. Still knocked out even as she hooks hands under his shoulders and drags him into the water. It's surprisingly not freezing, but the chill means she won't be able to stand an hour no matter how waterproof her suit is. The good news happens fast as his breathing eases with only his head above water. B watches the rather young-looking face and mutters, "If this is a reverse Little Mermaid, then someone will come for you soon, right?"

Still no answer, but the lines on his face relax.

B waits in the silence for a few minutes, on high alert for people or monsters. She only glances down to make sure he's still out and, when the quiet and racing questions becomes too much, B tells the open world, "I won't sing," the song looping in her head is more than inappropriate for that, "but I can tell some stories. It would be nice to just… talk again."

So she does, focusing on that to ignore the aches and chills gained by keeping the mermaid's head up in the ocean. Only once does she stop when he almost seems to wake, his eyelids barely cracking open to prove the has-eyes theory. The dude rasps out, "Jade. Floyd."

Or at least that's what B thinks he says. Muttering and names don't always translate the same as other words, so there's a chance that mister once-again-unconscious just said nonsense. Still, B keeps talking and watching, listening for something out of the ordinary to make sure she isn't surprised by any changes. One hour turns to two, and by hour three she's long lost the feeling below her knees as the sun begins to set.

Her overused voice cuts off when she hears a splash. B turns as fast as she dares with the guy and does a doubletake at what looks like green eyes-included heads turning about in the deeper water. Biting back the wariness – it doesn't matter if they're friend or foe as long as someone takes this guy – means B risks getting the attention of whatever may be crawling near the shoreline, "Hey!" The word comes out shorter than expected. More like hi and definitely not the language she was learning in the De Ville Farmlands. "Hey! You two!"

It gets their attention. They duck under the water and reappear closer. Going out on a limb, B makes sure to laser her focus on them, "Are you Jade and Floyd?"

"Yes ma'am," replies one of the mermaids, voice deep. Swift, easy, and the other one seems delighted she knew them. Probably are their real names, but no sign yet of if they were the ones to hurt the person in her arms.

"Good," she cuts off whatever they are about to say. "Is this your friend?"

Their gazes switch to the guy as she turns him into view. B notices he's starting to blink a bit below her, likely the familiar voice of the other mermaid triggering something. Since he doesn't look panicked, and the two others are a mixture of shock and poorly withheld relief, the woman relaxes a bit at the small hope that she isn't sending this guy off to get hurt more.

"He is," replies the same mermaid, pushing his… brother? Same-species mermaid under the water before anything can be said. "We can take him off your hands."

B sighs and starts shuffling a bit further into the water. Careful and concerned she might be pulled under, but honestly the point of no return was passed the moment she went into the water. "Make sure he gets to a doctor or something, okay? And, um," play it up, "could you point me to the nearest town? I'm very lost."

"Neh," the dunked mermaid resurfaces, pouting and with a much higher voice than B expected to hear, "that was mean, Jade." But he comes forward and takes the blinking, bewildered mermaid from the human with ease.

B takes a couple steps back to shore. Jade takes the dazed man's free arm around his shoulder, and then points the way B had been following before, "If you follow the beach that way, you will come to Castle Town."

"I appreciate the help!" B calls back, hissing as the warmth of dry land attacks her chilled feet. "Stay safe out there!"

They've disappeared under the waves before she's had time to finish off her water and food. B gazes sadly at her empty supplies before truly hoping the directions are correct and it's not too long a walk.

"I need to get out of here," B mutters as she dries and warms herself. Can't reverse pull a reverse Little Mermaid if she's nowhere near the ocean. Get a supply refill, get out.

It sounds easy, but better to plan for the impossible than be taken by surprise. At this point, B is just glad she knows how to swim and that, so far, mermaids appear to have eyes to aim for if someone tries to drag her under.

;;;

Grim mutters irritably as he marches to a deserted spot. When the students tore apart the contracts after getting Azul out of the picture, they found his amongst the pile. Grim doesn't see why they're mad he didn't get anemone-d like the rest of them. The jerk Azul promised the study guide could assist him in getting to the top ten on the exam, in exchange for spreading the word of the assist to the other dorms. Grim didn't even make it into the top twenty, but thankfully he has all his magic back after the contract's destruction.

Still, he's not in anyone's good books at the moment. At least he didn't end up like Azul. Rumor has it, the mob did a lot of damage to the Leech twins and the Lounge as well.

"Good riddance," he mutters to himself, hunching to fit into the tight space of an unused attic. Great view, if very lonely.

Which means he is unprepared for the voice, "Would you like to get rid of someone?"

"Wah?! Who's there?! Show yourself!"

"I am not important," coos the voice of indeterminate gender. Grim is getting dizzy from looking in circles for the intruder. "I just want to help. I have been so lonely for so long…"

That has The Great Lord Grim pausing. Crosses his paws and stuttering out, "Are you a ghost?"

"I am not a ghost. I have lost my body, you see. If you help me get it back, I can help you with anything you would like."

That peaks the monster's interest, "Anything?"

"Anything."

How can the lonely outcast of the school turn down such an offer?

;;;

B almost misses the barrier, too enchanted by the castle that leads into the sea. In the corner of her eye is the offset colour, a kind of purple, that's almost jarringly different from the red she's used to seeing back in Rose Kingdom. There is a calmer sense to it, and when she passes through it is almost like a weight is lifted. The woman is still tired, sore, and in need of food and water, but there is no music and the temperature is more tolerable even as the sun sets.

The Castle Town itself is higher than the castle, built into the forestry of a small hill-like mountain. So far there have been no people with eyes, but everyone seems friendly enough to mind their own business. There are more people than she expected, more children too. Better technology and more signs of magic.

A different language than that used in Rose Kingdom.

The inn she finds is rather cheap – it's offseason, according to the gossip – and includes a small restroom, breakfast, and the magical equivalent to Wi-Fi with her room. B resolves to stay two nights and not to give into temptation further than that.

Cries a bit as she drinks clean water and washes up with the fold-out shower she finds. Her stomach growls and she sleeps after moving the nightstand in front of the door. Exhausted, wary, but overall thinking this is nice.

After days of switching between silence and insults, paranoia and anxiety in every wakeful moment, and the cartoon apocalypse to abandoned beach, this is really nice.

Taking the day to rest, she leaves after breakfast to explore like a true tourist. Arrives at the first recommended spot – a statue in the middle of the town – and admires the artistry even as realizations weigh heavy.

The plaque reads: Queen Ariel and King Eric – We share one world, no matter how far apart.

They're older than I expected, B thinks, a little sad but accepting. Not even stories can escape growing up.

It would be nice if there was a little more proof that this isn't the Once Upon a Time universe pre- or post-curse. To be fair, this is a better hint than anything else. Proof that fairy tales are real here, likely following the Disney plots as Ariel lived long enough for this statue to be made. What isn't certain is if any sequels are in effect, or why so many places reference villains in their title.

I didn't see one Cinderella, Mulan, or Jasmine on the maps back in that castle, B moves on to explore more of the town. No Simba, Adam, or Hercules. There was a Gaston though, wasn't there?

She tucks away the instinctive horror at heroes losing and focuses on the rest day. No deep thoughts, no want for survival, just an easy trail through the streets taking in the sights. B finally sees what a Magical Wheel is, the translation coming as she catches a glimpse of a race going on. Way to reinvent the wheel, a hybrid of magic and technology where the rider sites above a single-wheel bike. To B, it looks more dangerous than a unicycle or motorcycle, but the swerves and curves the riders pull off are breathtaking to watch.

The woman continues exploring. Window shops, once shifting the curls of her dark hair just enough to catch the reflection of light coming off her ear's tattoo. Purple, but lighter. Just about lavender in colour. Not as much an eyesore as the red language used in Rose Kingdom. It's likely why the front desk didn't flinch when they were discussing the hotel's rates.

Or, maybe it's just the life in this city. And it is a city. Cars and buses may be few and far between, however it's the bicycles and hoverboards dominating traffic. The city boundaries go on for kilometers, according to the public maps. B must work not to stare at passersby as the only race she doesn't spot amongst them are the mermaids. There are hairstyles, clothing, marks, and bodies of all humanoid shapes and sizes. No eyes on a single person, which is unnerving in a way she's almost forgotten. Terrifyed, that someone will single her out in a crowd for it.

B forces her shoulders down, smile up, the whole time.

What really throws her mind for a loop is when she spots the shuttle center. In front is an odd bus, but the true shocker is how the employees unload coffins from it. Someone waves a probably-magic wand over one, and the lid lifts. A person is helped out of it and guided into the shuttle center.

No one on the street doubletakes, as though this is normal.

B steels her nerves and walks in. The man at the counter is kind, giving her a map and all the details to questions she doesn't need answered. What are the routes? The price? Safety?

The map is of the whole world. They are right on the edge of the Coral Sea, bordering the Valley of Thorns and Land of Pyroxene this far down. Both kingdoms are apparently full of snow right now, making travel slower than normal to any of the places beyond. The routes offer travel to any of the capital cities, excluding the Coral Sea's of course.

And, of course, if B wants to reach somewhere warmer for the winter, she'll have to backtrack north. Even if there was an option to not use coffins for travel, the shuttle is too expensive.

The coffins, they tell her, will keep her safe.

B smiles, shoulders down, and minds her Ps and Qs. Leaves on friendly terms and mind racing. Does she risk travelling over long, deserted beaches to the next town? Or does she cross the border and avoid whatever this kingdom throws her way? The next sphere, a small village in the Land of Pyroxene, is no more than a two day's walk if the map is anything to go by. So, loneliness or paranoia?

Snow or sand?

B bites her tongue before tucking the map away into pocket storage. The real clincher is the land that borders north of the Coral Sea. The Territory of the Gods is intimidating in name, and B has no idea the religious standpoint of that kingdom. If it's a cult, she'd bet on being sacrificed at their earliest convenience. That kingdom wasn't an issue when she was on the other side of the landmass. Now, she has to pass either it or the Valley of Thorns to end up somewhere it is nearly guaranteed not to snow.

She spends the rest of the day buying cheap foods, refillable bottles, and warm clothing. Her blank default-outfit works wonders for insulation, but there is nothing for her hands or head, and she would never trust an outfit with thickness less than a pinkie against snow. To end off what could have been a prepared day if not an alright one, B catches the date on the newsreel playing in the hotel lobby. It is nearly the second week of December. She was in the Forsaken Wastes for weeks.

It is a long evening spent staring in her restroom mirror, pretending to be hungry and thirsty as she insists, "I am human. I am human."

It has to be the magic in this world making her like this. It has to be.

B curls up in the corner of the room to sleep that night. It isn't the first time she dreams since coming to this world, but it's the first time she sees another person in one. For once, her mind sharpens and she can tear away her gaze from the computer. The game on her office computer screen switches from Kingdom Hearts – it's always been Disney related since arriving here – to Pong of all things. The woman rolls back in her chair, watching as the newcomer takes in the almost too-sterile office of computers and filing cabinets. On the walls are maps of this world, scraps of memories from her time in the castle. The only door out leads nowhere, the other door the bathroom, and the computers only load whatever the game of the night is.

She tries to decide whether the young man – and he is young, an almost baby-faced look no matter how slender and sharp his features – is giving off mob boss or ballroom dancer vibes. B settles on mob boss, stereotyping him for his fedora, "They're all empty."

He startles away from the filing cabinet, as though he did not notice her before now.

B waves a hand around the room, "You're welcome to look, but there's nothing there."

He recovers after a bit more time, smiling something forced, "My apologies for barging in. I am Azul Ashengrotto. Who might you be?"

"B," she rolls back further, catching sight of a cane between monitors. She stands and, while shorter than him, the air of bug-under-a-microscope dissipates. A frown pulls at her lips once seeing his tight grip on the cane is causing a liquid to drip down it. "Pull up a seat, I'll go grab the first aid kit."

While she remembers the office bathroom being nicer, this one is missing the mirror and extra supplies. Thankfully the first aid kit is intact, but the guy is still standing when she returns.

"Sit," B rolls her eyes and pushes chair at him. Grabs her usual and rolls it around so there's no longer tables between them. She stares expectantly in front of him, and finally Mr. Ashengrotto gets the hint. Does his best to hide the wince, but isn't good enough to hide the reflex of curling around his stomach. B cracks an icepack and holds it out until he takes it. "Ice, then heat. Anywhere swelling or bruises that need more?"

He looks almost like he wants to stammer, carefully schooling his expression as the cane gets tucked against the armrest. Doesn't want to take his eyes off her, can't put it down at his feet, "…My knee."

"Alright," she cracks another icepack, not bothering to notice the refilling kit. "On the cap or under."

"Under." He is very still as she wraps the supplies to him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're injured," she gives it her best duh tone.

"We just met."

"Doesn't mean I'm going to leave you about to keel over. I'm not that nasty."

He huffs, "What do you want in return."

"Nothing," she's quick to reply. Motions for him to hold his hand out while digging around the kit for a disinfectant. "Because people can be decent. Enjoy the free healthcare while you can."

Guy does laugh at that, "Well then, I appreciate the assistance." Gives her the dripping hand.

B pauses, staring at the ink dripping out of him, "What kind of blood is that?"

He gives her an odd look, "Have you never dealt with blot before?"

"Do you mean clot?"

"No. Blot. My magic has gone into overdrive trying to heal me and it is causing me to blot more."

The woman takes in the information, add a deep breath, and sighs an, "Of course it is." Changes the disinfection spray for a wipe. "Let me know if this hurts."

She gets to cleaning the seemingly endless stream of ink, discarding the wipes into a plastic bag. Azul breaks the silence, "So, Mr. B," whoops, forgot about the gender implications, "I do not believe you have ever been here before."

B huffs a small chuckle, "I'm here every night. You're the stranger."

"That… maybe so. Then, you have never called out before."

"Actually, Mr. Ashengrotto, I happen to scream my frustrations out in this room very often."

"You're- you're serious?"

"Unfortunately." Finally, his hand is starting to look as white as the rest of him. "Which begs the question, why are you here?"

He waits until she releases his hand to answer, his stare hard and trying to implore something she is obviously missing, "You saved me."

"What?" B laughs. "Dude, I'm pretty sure you would have found the first aid kit by yourself eventually. And from my knowledge, I haven't saved anyone. Ever. And this is literally the first time we're meeting."

"No it's-" he pauses, face half-flushed as frustration is taken over by some thought he does not like. His freshly cleaned hand lowers the fedora while his other pulls his jacket further up his shoulders. "No, you are correct. This is-" it looks like he's physically pained to say it, "the first time we're meeting."

B rolls back, careful eye on him. "Glad we're on the same page. Now, do you need anything else before I crack the heat pads?"

He shakes his head, still watching her from under the brim of his hat. As they trade hot and cold items, he requests, "Would you tell me a story?"

"Like what?"

"Anything you want," he smiles with teeth that almost look too sharp. This smile is real, if a bit scheme-y. "Help me take my mind off the pain."

B huffs but starts in on one. The rest of the dream passes with her telling him whatever comes to mind as they swap the ice and heat. He starts dripping in both hands at one point, so she unpacks the kit again to wipe it off. He keeps a tight grip on one of her hands after that.

When she wakes, B spends a few dizzying seconds remembering the odd dream. Then it's pushed to the back of her mind; today's a big day, after all.

Back on the road she goes.

;;;

Mr. Ashengrotto may have a lawyer for a step-father – and some really great connections – but the Headmaster knows the rules of this school forwards and backwards. He could recite them in his sleep. When motivated enough, the challenger is doomed.

Seeing as he cannot exactly doom a student, the Headmaster settles for not allowing the kid what he wants. It is written in the laws of the school, quite blatantly in fact, that no one can sue the school for anything their child experiences while taking classes or living in the dormitory. This rule is why Night Raven College does its absolute best to keep a wonderful image of its school. Sure, a murder happens every couple of years, and attempted murders happen more than anyone would like, but the repercussions are to be dealt out by the staff… or other students if the need arises.

The magical carriages are usually very good at picking the non-murderous potentials, but sometimes people too powerful slip through. Recently, the Headmaster has taken to using Grimm as his example.

So, the former Octavinelle Dormitory leader doesn't get to sue, lost plenty of his contracts, and is one of the most disdained individuals in the school. At the very least, the brat has an oddly fast recovery going for him. Truly, the Headmaster doesn't spend more time on that festering problem than necessary, because he's curious about the stranger who helped the teenager.

In all honesty, Azul Ashengrotto should have been dead. If not from injuries, then from dehydration, suffocation, or by being attacked by local blots and monsters. And yet, a random stranger happened to be lost in the middle of nowhere the moment it's needed.

It has been a long time since Headmaster Dire Crowley believed in coincidences.

;;;

There's a thin layer of snow on the ground when B finds another hole in space. She pauses before it, watching how the light flurries go into it and melt immediately. There is not even a thought about going through herself, the vault-like door and trails of lava being extreme turnoffs. B remembers the angry roaring of the last vault she faced. No need for round two.

Moving on and uneased by the space-anomaly, she notices instantly when the snow stops falling. The freezing temperature rises to tolerable. She's avoiding the cleared path by moving in the forest line, but the change between cleared and overgrown is so sudden she has to backtrack and make sure it isn't a trick. A few steps later, the music in the air cuts out.

Silence and fear choke her for a moment. Every step forward is a small one. And then-

"Index?" B mutters, just beyond the grass circle of a roundabout. The signpost in the middle moves slow, jerky, as if waking from a nap or stasis. When they notice her, they wave a sign in greeting. Hesitant steps, quiet breath, when she's close enough she asks, "Is that you, Index?"

The signpost bobs like a nod.

"How? We're nowhere near the Rose Kingdom!"

Index straightens, signs spreading out to point the way to the kingdoms. All of the kingdoms.

"Wha-" she cuts off. Takes her map out of storage and kneels in the grass to see it all straight. Flinches back as a bright light shines from it. Only when it dims does B dare look. "Land of Pyroxene."

The boundary is glowing. She looks up at the peering signpost.

Back down to her map, "I walked from the Coral Sea into the Land of Pyroxene."

B taps at the intersection point on the map, startling again as Index straightens and changes their signs to different names. Village names, ones close to the border. B can't breathe as she presses on a different area of the glowing map.

Index glances down and then changes the signs accordingly.

"We're on the border," she breathes. "So you… you live in the space between kingdoms?"

The signpost bobs a nod. Switches back to showing the kingdoms. This time, the Coral Sea isn't the only kingdom designated down the path she arrived from.

"…Are you the border?"

Index shakes negatively.

B goes silent, mind struggling with ideas as to what's going on. Index. Signpost. Where do you go in a book to find the headings? A table of contents. What about specific words? Glossary has definitions, index has page numbers.

In this case, co-ordinates. Why name them Index, though?

I asked for clean water, and they showed me the way. Indexes don't normally have the exact placement of a word in them. Only the page number.

"Can you-" she stops and starts, collecting her thoughts. "Is it possible- are you able to let me out anywhere on the border or-"

Index nods quickly. The light on her map fades to a single glow. In quick succession, the light bobs around the Land of Pyroxene while Index changes the position and names on their signs.

"Why can't you access the other borders? Or would I have to leave and come back?"

Index hesitates before the map lights up in three places. None of them north of her. "Okay, crossing the border doesn't always lead to here. Can you show me all the access points, or do I only see them when I'm in the area?"

The map illuminates before fading off. The combination of all those on the borders amounts to just over a dozen. Some lights are inside the kingdoms. B has no idea where she first entered to this place but counts herself lucky that the Dwarfs' Mine must have had a point to allow her back. Dumb luck won't work for this, though.

"I'll have to cross the Valley of Thorns," B grumbles quietly, careful not to touch the map as she draws out a route. "Do the lights in the center of the kingdoms take me back to the borders?"

The signpost bobs a nod.

So that's out. "If I make it to this point," she taps the Savannah Afterglow's most southern light, "would you be able to take me here?" Finger glides to the border edge that's closest to the only city in that kingdom.

Index agrees.

"Okay," B huffs and breathes as her mental debate takes a toll. Settles on the true and tried, fastest way from points A to B is a straight line. Now it's just hoping the Valley of Thorns doesn't have any mountains in her path. "Can you drop me off here?"

If she moves fast enough, she'll be out of there in a week. There's enough food and water in her pack to stretch to two if needed. Index agrees and B sets to readying herself. Pauses to hold out a hand for the signpost, "I really do appreciate all of this help."

Index shakes her hand, bending over like a cheeky I do my best.

"If all goes well," she calls on her way out, "I'll see you again soon!"

They wave until she's out of sight. Not long after, snow begins to fall again. Then comes the music, a long buildup before the lyrics of I Wonder echo in her head.

Keep a look out for needles, are B's wary thoughts. Do not eat their food. Make no promises or trades.

It might be stereotyping, but if the Fae in this world are anything like the stories in her own, then B would rather play stubborn human than victim in waiting.

And, of course, always ready to flee to make sure there's no Mistress of All Evil turning her gaze on the otherworldly human.

---

A/N: Jade and Floyd's mindset in this was: we could leave Azul to his fate and be ridiculed by our peers because we're all that's left, or we could skive off school to let things calm down and if he's alive then we redirect their anger to him while the three off us create chaos and revenge. Suffice to say, while things are currently a mess at Night Raven College, no one has died (and no overblots) so the Headmaster's counting the first term as a success.

Thank you so much for reading! A really big thank you to xenocanaan, AmazingAnimeAmulet, Guest, AAA, Kajity, yaranika2046 . 2, and RandoFanficAdict for reviewing! The support truly means a lot!

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