Hey Descendants!
We're back with a new chapter. And another birthday. February is full of birthdays for us. This time it's my little brother's.
Anyway, we'll be bringing you updates every Monday and Friday from here on out. Getting the book up on the first was seriously a group effort to do something nice for Twisted, and thank you, everyone, who took the time to wish her a happy birthday. It made her day!
It really fucking did! Thanks you guys-Twisted
But, back to the story…
-Dark-
Uma curses as she does another sweep of the church. The place creeped her the fuck out. No matter how light she tried to step it still echoed around the room, like it was trying to tell on her. The place was as chilling as it was foreboding.
All the eyes from the grim glass and ghastly painted depictions only added to the creep factor.
She was beyond worried about T, but she still wished she had gotten Deez duty. She swallows a groan. She didn't know what she had been thinking when she suggested pulling straws to see who was going to be chasing who. She loved both of them. She knew she did. But her hunting down T, now that she was doing it, didn't make logistical sense.
Deez, as far as she knew, kept to the ground.
But T? Her eyes dart to the shadows of the rafters as she studies them carefully. T liked to keep high. Her stomach does a flip at the thought of trying to hop roof to roof, along with the familiar feeling of dread and panic before she dropped her eyes back to the ground.
She'd never hated herself more than at this moment.
Then again, her gut was telling her that if T were still on the isle the roofs weren't where they were going to find him.
And that brought on a different type of fear. She shudders at the sense of foreboding sending shivers down her spine. The gothic architecture of the church was not helping. She rubs her hands up and down her arms in a futile attempt to warm them.
She grimaces. Harry and Gil were going to keelhaul her if they found out she came here, but what else was she supposed to do? Wander the streets aimlessly?
Uma sighs. She hoped she cared too much about her family to let something as dumb as a stupid fear stop her from finding them.
Still, she wasn't having any luck down here. Every room she could get access to had no trace of T. No scrap of black clothing. No daggers. No lock picks. Not even a damn dried herb.
She looks to the weird alter, and the door beyond it before she bites her lip. She needed to go upstairs.
Chills run down her back as she makes herself shrink further into the shadows, cursing herself for wearing such a colorful outfit as she looks around warily. Next time she came in this shit hole she was pulling a fucking T. Black everything.
If Frollo found her here, he'd make a huge scene, about her being a monster because she was the daughter of a sea witch and Hyades was her cousin- She shivers at the memories.
What the fuck was a heretic anyways?
She swallows as she pushes herself off the wall to creep carefully towards the door, keeping to the shadows to get there quickly, but without drawing attention to herself. She had several ideas on what Frollo did to T. Each more horrible than the last.
She shakes her head. This place was just plain unsettling, the silence disturbing and making her paranoid. Nothing good ever came from this much silence. She bites her lip again. No one should be forced to deal with this daily.
She wanted to scream to end the deafening stillness.
How fucking terrible must it had been to grow up here? Frollo aside, she was sure the atmosphere of this place would have driven her insane.
Uma pauses when she reaches the edge of the altar, leaning against the wall behind a screen as she strains to listen. After several moments of more eerie silence, she takes a deep breath, gathering her courage before she hesitantly grips the knob and pushes. Her trepidation grows as she finds herself staring at a cold spiral staircase.
She grimaces as she breaks her grip on her sword hilt. Why was she so scared of some frail old man?
Probably because he'd scared the shit outta her when she was a kid. He'd been so openly scary, getting in their faces, throwing holy water over her and Deez and shouting at them in another language belligerently. It had been so overwhelming and confusing.
She frowns as her heart constricts at the thought of T being raised by that. How fucking miserable must that had been for him?
How fucking confusing everything must have been for him when he first started leaving.
Some of her resolve returns at the realization as she straightens her back. After all, if T could live here, in this creepy building, that smelt of… She sniffs, pausing at the surprisingly familiar scent.
She lets out a quiet little rush of air as the barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. There, this was something positive she could focus on. She was in the right place at least. This stairwell reeked of T.
The feeling of familiarity was all too short-lived as she realized she might be close to finding T. She frowns as she feels the slickness of sweat on her palms. Yep. Gil and Harry were going to kill her when they got back.
Her relief when she steps on the carpeted landing of the next level was almost sad. She slides to the wall, glad to be away from the confining staircase. She strains, listening for any noise only to find dead silence as yet another shiver runs up her spine.
If nothing else, she was learning things about herself today. She'd never realized how much she hated silence before.
She walks with a little more caution as she continues to carefully creep down the hall.
When she comes to the first door, she presses her ear to it for a moment before she slowly pushes it open. Her eyes sweep over a bland, clean bedroom with a single twin bed. It was full of the same depictions of a man on a cross. It was creeping her out. She takes a minute to go through the belongings but doesn't find anything of interest besides a silky red scarf with a star pattern tucked into the back of the top drawer.
It wasn't quite her style but she tucks it in her pocket. Someone would be happy to have it.
She exits the room as cautiously as she entered it before she starts up the stairs, not looking down between the hollow steps. She was just grateful the stairs were secured to the wall.
She stops on each landing to explore the rooms before moving on. The only other room to catch her attention was a room full of golden religious crap that made her think of Harry. She smiles as she pockets a strange-looking necklace. The beads were golden and ornately carved, and though it creeped her out, there was a cross hanging from the bottom with the same man. What a weird way to represent a god. Displaying his death.
The only thing she found even slightly out of place was a set of bookshelves on the floor below the bell tower.
Who kept bookshelves just off the stairs?
Her eyes narrow. Every other landing had a door. All of them except this one. There weren't even chairs or anything to suggest this was a place to read. Just books. At the top of the tower. Either collecting a book was a punishment, or something was off.
She steps closer and runs her hand along the side before she tries to move it. Either it was too heavy, or couldn't be moved that way. Her guess was on the second since the shelves hadn't even rattled.
She looks at the books, running her fingers over a few faded titles before her eyes narrow on one with the most faded spine. Purity huh? She grimaces as she pulls the book, only to feel resistance. With a frown, she tips the book back towards her and something behind the shelf clicks.
She steps back and the shelf swings open, revealing a dark hallway behind it, and another door.
She frowns as she stares at the hidden entrance and the feeling of dread returns tenfold.
She hesitantly walks through the entryway and turns to investigate the opening mechanism. She pulls one of her hair ties free and secures it over the latch to keep it from locking. She slowly pulls down and keeps it open by a crack, hoping it wouldn't attract attention if anyone were to walk past.
Not that she'd run into a single soul since getting here, but she couldn't escape the grip of paranoia.
She turns and walks down the narrow hallway until she reaches another door. Her eyes sweeping over the multitude of deadbolts securing it shut from the outside. Her stomach drops at the implications. Stranger still was the smaller door at the bottom, also secured with two bolts.
Someone hardcore didn't want whatever was on the other side of the door getting out of this room.
With her heart beating uncomfortably in her throat she starts unbolting the locks until she can finally open the door.
Was this the room Harry feared Frollo kept T in?
She takes a deep breath before she inches the door open.
T's eyes flicker open slowly and he lets out a groan.
His whole body was sore.
He shakes his head before he tries to get his bearings. What the fuck had happened? Where was he?
He tries to push himself up only to meet resistance.
His eyes shoot open in concern.
His arms were cuffed behind his back. "The fuck?" He awkwardly tries to get to his feet before realizing the chains only gave him enough slack to kneel.
A sinking feeling drops into the pit of his stomach.
Seriously, what the fuck had happened? One minute he was on a straight path towards their father. The next... He blinks. Darkness.
Yes. Darkness and a strange smell that burned his eyes. He blinks again as the memory shimmers like steam in front of him.
Darkness, the burning in his nose and eyes...
And two men.
Yes.
And they had to be adults. They were too big, their throats too scratchy to be anything but. He looks down, surprised to find himself dressed. Well that made sense as to why he woke up first.
Thank god for small miracles.
He rolls his eyes. He didn't want to hear about what she thought about the situation he'd gotten them into. He reaches for the lock pick in his boot, but the sound of a door opening startles him, making the chains rattle in his surprise.
He flinches at the bright light that follows the loud flip of a switch.
"My child, how good to see you again." Frollo's calm voice rakes across his nerves.
T spits in his direction. "Fuck off."
"My, my," He tuts his tongue as he walks closer, almost appearing to glide under the layers of robes and cloaks, "such language is unbecoming of a young lady, Faustina."
"My name's T you twat." He glares darkly, "Who the fuck's Faustina?" Well, it was the best he could do. He didn't have much to work with.
Frollo's lip curves into a smirk, "So you would deny who you are to me?"
"What the fuck are you talking about you freak?"
"I see." Frollo slowly nods as he reaches into his robes, "I hate to do this the hard way my dear, but clearly there is something amiss here." He pulls a small knife out before he walks over and grabs T's hoodie, "Shall I search for your marks of salvation?"
T growls as he attempts to head butt the old man only to have his arms stop him. Damn it. That would have been satisfying. "Don't you fuckin' dare."
"Very well then." Frollo nods before he slices the hoodie down the middle.
"It had a fucking zipper you asshole." T scowls as he fights against the chains fruitlessly.
Without speaking Frollo pulls up the next layer and repeats the action, slicing the ratty shirt from hem to neck.
"Get the fuck off me."
"Faustina, I know you have ventured into this world of sin," Frollo backhands him, "But I will not tolerate you swearing."
"Suck my dick." T turns back with a dark glare.
Frollo shakes his head as he continues to slowly slice each layer of T's shirts.
"Fucker, I said stop!" T growls, "Are you deaf too, you disgusting prick?"
"So many layers." Frollo frowns as he reaches the final layer, a strip of fabric used for a chest binding, "Were you attempting to hide the sin of your body by dressing as a man?" He shakes his head as he drags the knife up T's exposed sunken belly to the layers of the band.
T scowls, "Bein' a chick isn't a sin, you filthy fucking liar."
"Is that what the sinners of this isle told you?" Frollo shakes his head.
"They're not the ones who've sinned, you sick old fuck."
"Blasphemy."
"Blasphemy my ass," T scoffs.
"To think that my daughter has fallen prey to the machinations of sinners."
"You're the biggest sinner I fucking know," T snaps, "Don't fucking call me that!"
"Daughter? Why not? Because you like pretending to be a man?" Frollo sneers before he cuts the band in a single slice, "Men do not possess breasts, Faustina."
A lock pick set hits the ground and clatters between them.
"Tools of the gypsies?" Frollo tuts his tongue and kicks them away.
T swallows, fighting tooth and nail when he suddenly feels Faustina's presence, "Fa-Fuck you!"
Frollo tilts his head to the side, "So this is more than a simple case of make-believe is it?"
T winces at the scream echoing in his skull, "You have no fucking idea."
"I see. This is so much worse than I feared." He walks away, leaving T's chest fully exposed as he disappears from his view.
"What did you do!" Faustina accuses quietly.
"Nono. Don't put this on me. You were just as angry. Don't lie." T grabs the pick set from his boot again.
"Because I thought you had it handled."
T grimaces at that. "I still do." He starts attempting to pick the locks keeping his hands restrained behind his back.
"Do you? Because from where I'm kneeling that-"
"Change in voice. Change in face and body, I suppose I'll have to examine you fully to assess your condition-"
What the fuck? T frowns as he looks up at Frollo's voice. At least that had shut her up.
"Maring of the skin. Losing control of normal personality. Unnatural rage."
Who the fuck was he talking to? T shakes his head. Didn't matter. He didn't want to find out. Not this time. He swallows as he tries to work the lock faster, the tremors in his hand new and uninvited as he fumbled his picks.
"Oh my, dear Faustina I tried to warn you of the dangers we face here on the isle." Frollo sadly shakes his head as he walks back into view.
"The only dangers in this shit hole are the fucks like you." He retorts as he shoves the picks back into his boots.
"Do you know what this is?" Frollo asks as he holds out a creased piece of paper with familiar symbols.
"A letter? Getting blind too?"
"Are you able to read this language?"
T snorts, "Of fucking course, I can. Me and Deez came up with it."
"So it is the language of satan spawn, a demonic language indeed." Frollo shakes his head,
"Ability to read languages with no prior knowledge of."
"What are you doing?" T sighs.
"My child, I have reason to believe you are possessed by a demonic entity. Especially after hearing that you and the spawn of Satan hold correspondence."
"What?" T blinks. He thought he was a fucking demon? There was some fucking irony. "You think, between the three of us, I'm the demon?"
"What would the daughter of Satan have to say to you?" Frollo asks as he sets aside a book he was holding to search the symbols on the letter.
"I can't read it from here, psycho." T rolls his eyes. "And I wouldn't tell you what was on it anyways. That's between me and Deez."
"And I'm sure I have no intention of letting her influence over you continue," Frollo shakes his head as he lays the letter on top of the book and walks away.
Curiosity gets the best of them as he leans forward and strains to read the letter. He'd forgotten all about her damn letter, and now he was sure Frollo was going to burn it.
T,
Sorry. I know that was strange, but I've had a lot of realizations about myself and things in general over the past few days. Not the best time to mention it, but I finally wrote to the king about myself. That was the opposite of fun and very hard to do, but I did it.
If I hugged you, it was as much for me as it was for you. I know you have things you have to do. And no one has any right to tell you not to, or even ask you not to... So instead I only want you to know that I love you. Love and accept you for who you are. Both of you. The girl and the boy.
I know that me knowing that probably bothers you, but you needed to know that you don't have to do this alone. Not one of our friends will turn their backs on you because of this. We all just want the best for each other, and that includes you. I can't even imagine what you must be going through right now. How helpless or even scared you could feel. I just wanted you to know that I don't care what you need to do, so long as you come back. Back to me and the rest of your friends and family. We can deal with whatever changes in the fallout, but you can't do it alone T.
You helped me see that once, forcefully. So I hope you'll let me help you see that now. Progress, not perfection. We can get through this together.
I know you hate this kind of stuff, so I hope that reading it makes this easier on you. I know it helps me when I write rather than speak. And this way we don't have to see each other's reactions, so bonus right?
Anyways, be safe, be strong, stay in the shadows, take care of yourself, and come back to us as soon as you can. I'll be waiting.
Love,
Deez
T leans back in the chains as he stares at the letter. Of course, Deez knew. She always knew shit she shouldn't. He bites his lips. She hadn't treated him any differently at the Howler. Hadn't treated him like he was a freak, or fragile, or anything of the sort. She'd just treated him how she always had.
He curses himself. He should have brought one of them with him.
He should have trusted them to have his back. Should have trusted them not to judge. He should've listened to Uma, to Mal, to the cards.
He wouldn't be stuck here if he had. Wouldn't be back in his father's mercy. Wouldn't have to be feeling the overwhelming fear seeping from his other half. He sighs in relief when he finally finds the keyhole on one wrist. Bingo. He swallows. Doing his best to overcome the tremors that had overtaken his hands. What the fuck? Since when the fuck did he shake like this?
"You- You could let me handle this," Faustina offers meekly. "It would probably be over faster. And then you can find us a way to get back."
"Over my dead body am I letting that man touch you again. I can handle this." He snaps quietly as he turns his focus back to the cuff.
He closes his eyes as he feels one of his picks snap. The sound as it 'tinks.' as it lands somewhere behind him, sending his stomach plummeting. No. Fuck. Nononononono! This was- Bile crawls up his throat. The chains clink and clang together as he desperately tries to reach for another set he kept hidden in his pants to no avail. No!
"B-but T..." She sighs meekly. "He thinks you're a demon. This is bad. Very bad."
Faustina. He swallows. He'd just sentenced himself and her to a new level of hell. All with a single, simple, missed twist. How the fuck had this happened? How had that happened? He tries to swallow, but can't get past the lump in the back of his throat.
What the fuck had he done? What had he- A chill runs up his spine.
Frollo walks back over, now adorned with his ceremonial vestments
T's jaw tenses as he feels Faustina still within him. "Are you serious right now?" He raises an eyebrow. He couldn't let the man win before this even started. He'd been through too much, endured so much. He could hold out. He could figure something out.
He was T. The shadow of a ghost that most of the isle had only heard rumors of. He was a fucking badass. He could survive this. Could force Faustina to survive this. "Don't tell me you're gonna bore me to death. If I have to listen to another word about god from you I'll nail myself to my own damn cross."
Frollo lifts an eyebrow, "Such a display of intense hatred towards religious objects." He sighs as he reaches for the book he left behind earlier.
"You would too if you ever actually stopped and tried to swallow your bullshit."
"The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms: and he shall thrust out the enemy from before thee; and shall say, Destroy them."
The groan that leaves T is nearly insufferable to his own ears as he lets his forehead fall against the table. This was fucking hell.
Maybe Maleficent had killed him. And he'd been in too much pain to process the memory? Because seriously, who would think to subject anyone to this but Satan himself. It was clearly a ploy to get him to hate god.
"Displays an antipathy towards the reading of the holy word of God."
"Correction, to you reading it. I can fucking read that thing front to back quicker than you could preach it, you long-winded wannabe fucking hero."
"I believe I have gathered more than enough evidence to suggest a demonic infestation of your soul my child."
"Who are you even seeking approval from?"
"I would never attempt an exorcism without first verifying that you possess the necessary qualifiers." Frollo shakes his head, "That would be very dangerous. But I'm more willing to believe this is a simple case of possession, now that I know you have held company with the daughter of Satan."
"Oh." T blinks. He'd been serious. Faustina had nailed it. This sick psycho thought he was a demon. That was cool, besides the fact there was no fucking way in hell this wasn't going to get them killed when Faustina started believing him.
"I wouldn't. I know you're not a demon."
"Oh, but you will believe him." If he didn't get them out of here, their lives would be in Faustina's hands.
He swallows as he sits up, his eyes sweeping over the fanatical gleam in their father's eyes and the familiar twisted smirk that promised pain and agony.
He doesn't miss the way their father's eyes flash at the wall behind him with glee so dark even he didn't dare to turn around.
He needed to get them out before shit went to hell, literally.
Uma's eyes narrow as she walks into the small, empty room.
"Fuck!" She growls as she kicks the door. This had to be the room. The room Harry said Frollo kept T locked away from the world in.
Her eyes sweep around the room as she takes a curious step further into the room. If someone went through this much trouble to keep something secret, it usually meant they were hiding something pretty damn big.
She frowns as she looks around the near spotless room. Little details were striking her oddly.
The full-size bed was nicer than any she'd ever seen on the isle. The wooden frame was ornately carved and painted, though the paint was faded. The mattress was thick and covered with real sheets. It even had a plush looking blanket and matching pillows.
On the same wall, but across the room was a beautiful warm wood dresser with matching ornate carvings and faded paint. All six drawers were intact and sat straight. It even still had handles. On the floor in front of it was a very thick, cushy looking rug.
Against the opposite wall was an odd-looking table with glass and metal instruments covering it.
Large crosses hung on every wall, in multiple places. As if not immediately seeing a cross on the wall was some unforgivable sin.
She reflexively gulps when she sees the chains hanging from the wall furthest from her. It was hard to picture T in chains but- She looks away. She would investigate those last.
The wood-slatted windows had padlocks on them.
That seemed safer.
She walks over to inspect them, her frown deepening when her booted foot kicks something on the ground. She kneels to pick up the heavy padlock. It was from the only window not locked. She places a hand on her stomach.
Frollo seriously didn't fuck around with wanting to keep his son here. She steps closer to the window and looks down at the street she'd spent most of her teen life avoiding.
It was strange, being so high above them and yet easily watching the going ons as people shoved past each other.
Was this how T first started watching people? Through these slats?
Unbidden sadness creeps over her. How fucking lonely must the kid have been? Stuck in here and forced to watch the world pass him by. She shudders as a chill runs down her spine. She can't help but picture her younger self in this room, looking down at the people milling below. No one knowing of her existence, her unable to know of those she loved, except perhaps from a distance. She takes a deep breath before she pulls herself away from the window. No more of that. She wipes her eyes on her arm. That had been the opposite of productive.
She looks around the room again, anything else besides the chains.
Her head tilts when she sees an odd machine with a giant horn and a large round black disc set on a box. She walks over to it, messing with it curiously before the stupid thing makes a horrid scratching noise before it starts playing music. She quickly slaps the needle pointed stick away from the black disc, ending the strange music with another painful scratching noise. The room falls back into dead silence as she looks over her shoulder at the closed door.
One minute. Two. A third passes before she dares to continue her exploring.
The odd table with glass bottles and T's scent draws her attention next. She walks over, inspecting the odd collections. The odd glass containers and pipes, the old candle stubs and strange silver tube. The dried herbs hanging above it. The familiar vials. The colored labels on the tubes. She picks one up and sniffs it curiously, surprised to find the aroma pleasant.
Huh. So this was where T made all those concoctions. The ones he gave Harry, perhaps even the nasty knock out one. She wouldn't have guessed this much work was needed to make that crap. She bites her lip.
None of the bottles looked similar to the liquids he'd forced them to drink though.
When the boys got back, she'd have them move this set up back to the ship. She was sure it could fit in one of the supply closets, and she wanted to make certain T didn't have a reason to come back to this place.
It was the least she could do after everything T had done for her, for them.
She just didn't know how T would feel if he found out she'd been in his room. Probably no happier than her boys.
Ugh. Talk about shoals and rocky cliffs. She shakes her head before she pulls away from her latest conundrum.
She begins walking over to the dresser, stopping when the floor creaks under her. She raises an eyebrow as she drops to her knees, finding the wood slightly pried up. She pulls out her dagger and easily pops it up the rest of the way.
Her eyes widen when she finds a bunch of hidden vials.
Huh.
She pulls one out and examines it. This one looked a lot more familiar. Why keep these hidden? Some out and some hidden? She continues digging. Vials. Strange looking tools. Gloves. Dried herbs mixed with fresh bundles.
"Fuck!" She chokes out in surprise when one of the fresher ones burn her.
Oh hell no.
She stands and sweeps the herbs back into the hidden hole with her boot before she adds replaces the vials and pops the loose board back into place.
Fuck that. If she was going to send the boys, she'd make sure they had gloves and bags so they could collect that shit. If they wanted to. It could also stay hidden for all she cared.
After a moment she frowns. It made sense that he had to hide shit from his father if he wasn't allowed out. A vindictive part of her wanting to open the cubby back up and throw the herbs all over the desk to serve the old man right.
She stands and wipes her hands off on her pants. How many hidden alcoves did he have tucked away in here? She doubted she had the time to find everything. T was obnoxiously good at ferreting things away.
She quirks a curious brow as she walks over to the dresser. If the room T had grown up in looked this nice… Then what the fuck did his clothes look like when he wasn't in his typical oversized black hoodie and cargo pants?
When she steps onto the carpet she looks down. It was strange how a rug could make such a difference. She nearly bounced with how plush it was. But something about the pretty patterned design was off. The faded, but still bright pops of blues, greens, and gold were beautiful, but one corner was far darker than the rest of the rug. Her eyes narrow. Was it singed?
She looks around the room in confusion. Besides the candles on the table with T's herbs, there were no other sources of light in the room.
Why?
She shakes her head before she hesitantly opens a drawer. The bright purple popping out at her was a surprise, and certainly not what she was expecting. She pulls out the soft material, surprised at how large the bundle was, even folded.
She flaps it out. Her head tilting to the side as she found herself looking at a skirt. She blinks, immediately struck by a memory of Gil, and the way his family used to force him to dress like a girl. She slowly lowers the skirt.
Was that something Frollo did to T?
Her eyes harden as she catches sight of the chains hanging against the wall.
She drops the skirt with a growl before pulling out the rest of the clothes.
When she pulls out a green underbust corset she studies it for a moment, the color oddly familiar until it clicks. It was the exact shade of T's eyes. She tosses it to the side before she pulls out two more identical ones. She continues to pull things from the drawers, emptying each before she moves on. A small mountain forms at her feet as she adds a couple of rich purple skirts, several white peasant tops, all the same design. The last thing she pulls out is an odd scarf that, she had to admit, tinkled prettily.
What the fuck? What was going on? Even Gil had boys cloth-
Her eyes widen in disbelief as she takes a step back from the pile. Her eyes sweep over the room once more. Small details maddeningly catch her eye, one feminine feature after another. "No." She shakes her head. It didn't make sense. There was no fucking way. "I would've noticed."
She would have noticed. She repeats on a loop, her eyes narrow as her mind turns against her.
He hated getting wet. She still remembered the way he'd responded to her swimming lesson. It bothered her how he'd let himself just sink like that. The guilt she felt when he'd immediately took off afterward. At the time she'd been convinced he was pissed at her.
His hair. She'd occasionally wondered, but never asked why the kid would keep it so long when he never cared much for appearances. Long and dyed black, apparently.
Because when he'd chopped it off a few weeks ago it had been red. He'd butchered it, sending Harry into a near fit.
His skin had also changed color, now that she was thinking about it. He'd once been nearly as dark as the dragon's second, and then suddenly a pale little shit.
The fact that he had both ears pierced, despite never wearing earrings. Despite making fun of her love of jewelry during sword sparring.
The way he ate. The way his voice would sometimes get so small she could barely hear the whisper. How soft he could sometimes be with Gil and Deez.
She'd never piled up the contradictions. And the thought was still so far fetched she was having problems believing what was clearly staring her in her face.
He'd never corrected anyone, but she doubted anyone would have thought to ask. He was just so obviously male- Wasn't he? His height. His disposition. How protective he got of girls. The reckless behavior that reminded her so much of her Harry. The way he spoke. But now that she thought about it, the kid rarely showed emotion in his tone, so much as expressed it on his lips- It just hadn't occurred to her he'd be anything but a boy.
How the fuck had he kept it secret for so long? And why?
It's not like anyone would have cared, or thought it was weird for him to be a girl.
She lets out a weary breath as she looks back at the chains she'd been avoiding.
Did she really want to see them now? She swallows, her throat dry suddenly.
With a sigh, she walks over to them, frowning when she notes the rust-colored stains covering the metal bands and the chains immediately connected to them.
Her stomach turns as she looks away. Without thinking she finds herself at the perfectly made bed before she rips off the comforter.
The old bloodstains make her dizzy with anger as her skin crawls with disgust.
It wasn't hard to build the image of what had been happening to hi-her in this room. It was hard to make it stop.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting when she'd come knocking at the church. She hadn't. But- This?
Her head was still reeling.
Is this what he'd meant when he said he was concerned about facing off against his-her father? Her gut twists as her heart jumps to her throat. How long had it taken her to convince Gil and Harry that they could stay with her when she'd first found them? Claiming them as her own. How long had it taken for them to meet her eyes after she'd discovered the truth? How many months had it taken for them to trust her?
She takes another glance at the room of horrors.
How the fuck had she missed so damn much?
How the fuck had T been able to keep this to himself- damn it, herself, for so long?
Anger rises up her neck like a heat rash. Bile fights to rise in the back of her throat.
Pain in her hand was her only warning. Her grip around the blade she couldn't remember drawing was so tight it was making her shake. Or perhaps it was her outrage.
With a scream of agony, she shoves the sword through the bloody mattress.
Once.
Twice.
She stabs and stabs as if she could somehow fix the situation. As if she could banish it like a foe if she could just find something to fucking kill.
Her arm swings the blade, cutting through the fabric roughly as feathers start flying everywhere.
Fucking damn it. She scowls as she notes half of the feathers had dark red staining them.
She growls as she backs away, screaming in fear as she slams against the wall by the door.
For the first time since they'd started this hunt, she found herself hoping T had been taken to Auradon.
So…That was a chapter.
Raise your hand if you want to kill us right now. Raise it higher if you want to kill Frollo.
I know this was rough to write so it had to be pretty painful to read.
What do you guys think? Did anyone think Uma had finally found T?
Uma is going to have to tread the decision to go to the church carefully, or her boys are going to chain her to something. Which would just be sleazy for poor Uma after that...
How relieved are you guys that a leader finally figured out T was a girl?
And again, as a reminder, both Dark and I are intensely spiritual people who don't want, in any way, to knock religion. But… Religion in the wrong hands can have a dark side and can gaslight like no one's business.
On that note… What do you think of exorcisms?
We're dying to hear.
Also-FC, to answer your questions
And what an adorbs way to surprise a writing partner! Were you happy? Oh! I loved getting this gift for your birthday! Fuck yes I was, how couldn't I be. Loved the wishes, you guys are the best! TY!
I've never asked before, but your isle is bigger than the canon isle right? It's always just made sense in my head, maybe because I've read the books too. But I can just picture Harry and Gil trudging up a mountain trying to find T and Deez because they're running out of ideas, and we know that Deez isn't going to her normal places to wait for them. Dark and I have talked about this ad nauseum, and I think we both settled on the isle being about the size of Hawaii. Except with decaying urban that gets thicker and more congested the further out from the mountain you get. That's the side that faces Auradon. The inland is where all the herbs, petrified trees, wells, and deadened pools are. Like no man territory because it's so open with nowhere to really hide.
Are you keeping to the old posting schedule? How many chapters is this book going to be? Sorry. For now we're just going to stick to Mondays and Fridays. We do have about 45 chapters written up to this point, but they all need to go through a second draft, edited, and then looked over by our beta Devin, who's just amazing for agreeing to help us out. I just really wanted the book out for my b-day and didn't want to lose any of your attention by waiting too long to boomerang back around.
Rest assured we are working our asses off to make sure we can get as much content out for you guys as we can, as quickly as we can. As much as you guys wants the plot, we wants the pets. :)
Sup Dobby,
We completely blew up your PM box to answer your questions. Sorry if we overwhelmed you, but yeah. We hope it helps! Give us a line if you need anything else. We're happy to help! Thank you so much for asking us for suggestions. It means so much to us as writers. Especially because we know how brilliant you are. You're the best! TY
With much love and appreciation
-Twisted