"BOSS! Boss? BOOOOOOSSS!"
Snatcher huffed at being interrupted whilst finishing up renovations for his own living space within a hollowed-out tree. But he turned around to address the black-cloaked minion running to relay their news. When he'd TAKEN this job, he hadn't expected the surge of ridiculousness that came with handling an army of sack-dolls filled with the spirits of his kingdom's previous residents. From what he could tell, thankfully they didn't seem to remember life before he began to control them. They didn't whine and moan about their previous troubles in this state. However, that also meant their minds (or what was left of them) were reduced to the most basic of intelligence. A lot of trial and error in crafting the revamped and renamed 'Subcon Village' ensued. But whether that was a good thing or not in this situation, he didn't know.
He would just have to work with what he had. And see what his minion was calling him for.
"What?" He asked frostily, not bothering to mask irritation.
"There's something making noise—"
"Lots of things in a forest make noise, how many times do I need to explain this?" the Snatcher replied curtly. "If you're to expect me to CARE about whatever-it-is that's got you this wound up, you're going to have to be SPECIFIC!"
"I know, but it's… It's coming from HER side, Boss. Across the bridge."
Like a switch had been hit, any surrounding minions who were in the area to hear this one's announcement stopped what they were doing to stare at their fearless leader. Snatcher froze in place at the mention of his former beloved. The Ice Queen, she who was responsible for this turn of events in the first place? And she was causing a disturbance on her side of the woods?! Undoubtedly she was planning a follow-up attack. And the knowledge he now had of her returning presence was enough to make the Snatcher bristle considerably, throwing up his spectral hands in frustration and floating down from his tree.
"Oh, for the love of… Fiiiine! She wants to play hardball, then fine! I'll bite back! Hold onto your sorry butts, everyone, this isn't going to be pretty if we can't get the drop on her!"
Fuming, the Snatcher headed off to the bridge that separated his half of the region from Vanessa's frozen wasteland. Crossing it with ease, a faint howling in the distance breached his hearing. There it was… The monster herself! It had to be her! Or maybe something she had crafted and was sending to terrorize him and his minions! He certainly wouldn't have put it past her to pull a stunt like that, that was for sure. Snatcher was preparing himself for any kind of scenario he could hope to expect from Vanessa as he wound through the maze of ice crystals that shielded her manor from his sector. Deeper into the chill he went, and even though he no longer needed to worry about frostbite, the cold pierced through to his cold, dead heart. Further fanning the flames of his detestation the closer he got to her.
"All right you frothy, droning menace, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO PULL HERE?!" Snatcher snarled, coming face to face with a courtyard of cadavers littered all over the place. At least he had been kind enough to his minions to dump their bodies in what was readily coming to be a swamp day after day, so nobody had to look at them. Vanessa on the other hand didn't seem to care who saw what when they entered her frosty domain.
It was a painful, morbid sight that made his nonexistent stomach turn over with disgust for the woman who lived there. How sickeningly she had carelessly tossed bodies left and right, like a lazy child who couldn't be bothered to clean up her toys. Made him wonder further what he'd ever seen in her in the first place, when the Snatcher realized something else.
Aside from the bodies, nobody else was in sight. Not Vanessa, not some crude homunculus she could have fashioned to send his way…. Nothing.
With this lack of attack, Snatcher paused his assault. Looking around in curiosity as an eerily calm, light snow fell from overhead. Whatever had made the noise seemed to have stopped— could his minion have been mistaken? He'd been just about to leave, turning and making an exit through the gate, when he was halted where he stood by another shrill scream.
A second wailing, shrieking noise broke the silence. Much closer this time than the last. And because of that, it was easier for him to discern just what could have been making it in the first place. Frozen in place, Snatcher slowly turned back to the front yard and looked around. That sound… He didn't necessarily want to go poking through dead bodies in search of what he feared it to be, but the frozen temperatures could make things worse if he didn't make his choice now.
No. No more retreating, no more resignation. If it was what he suspected it was, there would be further innocent blood on his hands. Another soul he could not protect from Her piercing, icy fury. The Snatcher hovered through the front yard, a spirit on a mission. His golden eyes scanned the area. He looked over bodies and shrapnel until finally, a third noise bubbled forth. This time it didn't stop after a few moments, allowing Snatcher to come face-to-face with the squirming, fussing culprit that lay in the snow.
A baby. Bundled up in dark purple blankets, whimpering and making its presence known the only way it knew how, crying and causing a ruckus.
Snatcher raised an eyebrow. He leaned down, closer to the tiny human, and with a gentleness he hadn't exhibited since before he'd died, gathered the child into his arms to check the damage.
From the looks of her current condition, she'd only recently ended up in this dump. Child abandonment itself didn't surprise him. But why here….? What thoughtless parent came to a frozen BURIAL GROUND to discard their month-old baby unless they'd intended to harm her? The Snatcher sighed, narrowing his gaze, and turned over the blanket so he could see her face better.
But when the light caught her lively, teary blue eyes, his heart dropped.
He knew her. Snatcher KNEW this girl. Or rather, he'd known her parents before they'd been lost to this winter's curse. He'd only met the little girl once. It was during one of his visits home, a little before his death. She was the child of a couple caught up in a blissful, enchanted love. One that they'd thought could withstand the test of time…. And as he now knew, they, like their plans for a happily-ever-after, were no more than shells of their former selves.
But she'd survived. Throughout ALL of the chaos that had warped his domain beyond recognition, this child had overcome all the odds stacked against her and LIVED. Just how she had managed to was no longer important; Snatcher knew the only thing left to do was remove the girl from the mess. His undead heart urged him further— this was right.
At least he could do SOMETHING right by keeping this one safe.
His mind was made up. He would take her back to his village, and keep her as FAR AWAY from Vanessa and her ice-zone as possible. He made his leave for the second time, with a new charge set to join his ranks in tow. He didn't look back, holding her close to his chest to shield her small body from the bitter cold.
But as he exited the yard and made his way through the ice maze near the beginning, Snatcher was briefly reminded of a flower he'd read about years ago. He'd long forgotten the name of it, but in life he had learned about how the small, purple flower grew and thrived on it's own in the frozen tundra.
Against frozen death that aimed to destroy any and all life in its path, the little flower bloomed in defiance. Just like her.
The Snatcher pulled the blanket tighter around her as they neared his village, and noted the expensive indigo fabric used to swaddle her. He knew indigo well, having previously lived in luxury, so that made it doubly strange that she'd been so carelessly tossed out like this. This particular shade of purple was the color of royalty. But it was fitting, in a way, for a ward of the former prince to be secured in such a fine cashmere blanket. And the more he thought of it, the longer he looked over the little girl he cradled, the more it sounded right.
Cashmere… The Snatcher's thoughts drifted as he noted the soft breathing of the now-sleeping girl he held. Her name is Cashmere.
"I'll tell you this much," the ghost mused softly as he re-entered his turf with the newbie. To the surprise and utter shock of his minions at his findings.
"You couldn't have picked a WORSE time to be born, kid."
