Alma loved to fly. As one of the fastest bird species, that should've been a given. But she did. Truly. As an Ymbryne, Alma was expected and enjoyed to go on around above the immediate vicinity of her Home and their loop entrance. But Alma often noticed she went a bit too far. She often say ocean before she saw hostiles. This time, she kept going. She sometimes crossed the ocean and looked down on modern Wales. She perched on a building and stared at the Normals. Even miles out, she could feel a Peculiar on the mainland. So, it was good that she went so far from her loop's island. Like a hawk, she fixed onto a single female sitting at a table with an umbrella useless for other than blocking her.
The sun was only just rising, so you cranked the picnic umbrella shut... just in time for a large blue, multi-printed bird to land on the table. Her talons hooked into the crisscross pattern of the table. You stared at her with wide eyes, but continued to talk on the phone. "Is it really?" you asked the no-doubt Normal on the other end. You idly offered the bird a cracked cockle and she eagerly ate all of your offerings. You smiled at her when she ran her face along your hand, and she was instantly enchanted. She almost forgot she was in her bird form and you weren't even smiling at her. "Well, I can't do that. Our trips would just be chasing each other's. Well, I'd like to go on one trip not alone." You spoke those words quietly.
That perked Alma up better than anything could. A peculiar out in the world alone was always dangerous. Whether you knew or not could either increase or decrease how dangerous it was. And you were on a trip, so... not familiar with Wales. Alma already knew she liked you. Whether you were a danger or not, or if you would even fit in her loop were entirely separate matters.
"That is so Welsh." Alma heard the 'oy!' in response and she delighted in your laughter. "Well, I am house-sitting so maybe- Hey, now. Your home is only less beautiful because you're accustomed to it. I think it's lovely, even if it's always muggy here." You suddenly scoffed and stared at your celestial designed home screen. You faced the bird dramatically. "Maybe she went through a tunnel."
She chittered in a definite bird sound, but almost like a laugh. That earned her a bug-eyed look which almost made her laugh again. Alma decided in that moment, you did belong in her loop, regardless of your clearly adult age. Traveling the world alone was much too dangerous and you obviously needed an Ymbryne to keep you from such self-inflicted dangers.
You read a book, some long novel holding all of your attention until you finish a chapter and returned to the world. The bird was gone, as you anticipated it would be, and the large open space was now heavily populated. The masses made you anxious and so you left. Cardiff was by no means a small place so you had lots to explore. This particular area, likely a sort of shopping center, was a little tourist trap and you bought a not-sundress because Cardiff had been overcast the entire time you were there. But the tourist trap was packed too.
A bookstore was nice and quiet, and you browsed for a bit before finding heaven in the back. Two plush armchairs faced a lit fireplace. A figurine of a big, blue bird set on the mantle made you pause. A pile of books rested between them, but you paid them no mind, making a home of the comfortable seat to the right. You looked around, almost frightened you weren't supposed to be in them. You pulled out your novel and cracked it open.
The book wasn't an unfamiliar one, rather one you'd read several times. And you were deep into the resolution when a voice startled you.
"Do you mind if-"
You almost jumped out of your skin, turning to face the jump-scaring woman with wide eyes.
She was an attractive giver of heart attacks. She was dark haired, but it appeared a bit blue when the fire burned bright enough. It was all bound behind her head, except for a single strand curling off to the side of her head. She was dressed entirely in blue and you were starting to sense a pattern. She was wearing a skirt, odd for the weather, though not if she was a native, and a blazer in the same color. She wore vintage shoes with a curved heel that expanded when it reached the bottom. The top parted like it had a tongue, and if you had shoes like that, vintage or otherwise, you'd wear them too. You trailed your eyes up her pantyhose, modest outfit, all the way up to her striking eyes. Her clothes led you to believe they were the same color, but you could've sworn they were green. You didn't know. "-I sit here," the woman finally finished her request.
Your hand rested in the center of your chest, the side of your pinkie feeling the continued fast thud. "Why not? Anyone should get to chill with the one you tried to kill."
The woman frowned in deep concern. "I didn't try to kill you," she argued.
You shifted in your seat. "No, you almost succeeded." You laughed and went back to your book.
Alma smiled at your obvious happy place. You were almost done with it, so Alma picked one of her own. It was an informational on birds so she wouldn't get too interested for when you finished. But staring would've been creepy.
As the heroes came to their final conclusion and the surviving villains were plotting in secret, you shut the book and sat back, content.
"Good ending?" the other woman asked, reminding you she was there.
You looked over at her, feeling better that you'd finished. "Gets better every time." She smiled at you, basking in your calm. Alma's life was many things, but it was rarely that. "I've read it half a dozen times." You found it odd that she didn't ask if it was yours seeing as it was being read in a book store.
"You keep reading it, though, so it must be good. What is it?"
You told her the title, that it was a dystopian and, upon viewing her interested confusion, told the plot. It was hard to not spoil the future, but you managed. You ended up offering the book to her.
She stared, stunned, at one of your most valued possessions then up at you, making no move to take it.
"You can give it back to me tomorrow. I'm assuming you live around here, based on your voice."
You drew her to you too well. She could tell how smart you were already, based on how you knew her accent wasn't Welsh and phrased what you said so carefully. "I'll be back tomorrow," was all she could answer.
You smiled, letting her take the novel. "If you haven't finished it by then, I'll be in town for 4 more days."
Alma traced your anxious smile with her eyes. No, but that wasn't nearly long enough. She took your departure with a kind smile that made your face heat. Your wave was an adorable tick of three fingers.
Alma spent much of the rest of her day in her own head, plotting. She had a deadline and she fully intended to ignore it. She was going to get you Home as fast as she could, week be damned.
The next morning, she had nothing beyond wanting to lure you here and before Saturday. She was almost wishing Horace had a dream and the kids would all shout ideas and pleas which could birth her own ideas. She left the Home earlier than the day before and sought you out. Unfortunately, you didn't wear the same clothes every day. She searched the masses for your face, hair, your bag, grateful for her avian eyesight.
You weren't where you were before, which made sense as you didn't reset every day and it was earlier than it had been. And, as a tourist, of course you wandered. She found you leaving a store she'd never been in before. Also understandable. Alma didn't frequent modern Wales so she knew next to nothing about the shops so near to the coast. Alma couldn't explain her elation when you saw her bird form perched somewhere she wasn't yesterday. She idly wondered if you knew it was the same bird. She returned to the loop long enough to prepare breakfast for the kids and give them permission to void any morning chores. It'd be undone the next/previous morning anyway. She put Emma and Enoch in charge and left them all with a stern warning not to leave the loop and not to go into town. They knew her plan, and so would likely obey. Except Enoch. But they would likely make a mess of her house while she was away.
You were already sitting where you were before, despite Alma showing 15 minutes early. You were absorbed by a new book, but sleep seemed to be pulling at your eyes more with each blink. Despite you being an adult, Alma recognized sleepy eyes. That made Alma feel better about her plan. You weren't a fully capable adult - you couldn't even get a good night's rest - so she wasn't doing this simply because you were peculiar. Alma would help you, with everything. She cleared her throat to get your attention and her insides glowed at the excited expression on your face. It was just like her wards' when Abe visited.
"Hi," you greeted, as if flooded with energy.
Alma knew better, but was delighted to be so well received. She moved closer and took the same seat as the day before. "Good afternoon," she greeted in return, very formally. You smiled nervously, not sure how to ace despite having spoken with Alma before. "I didn't have time to finish it, but I got to chapter 12."
Your eyebrows rose, impressed even still. She'd told you about running a children's home so you were amazed she'd managed even that. "So... you're addicted," you accused dramatically, playfully.
That was a strong word. But not entirely wrong, Alma could admit. She couldn't fathom, couldn't bear, another morning in her loop with you out in real time, in a foreign country, alone. She had to look after you properly. Perhaps she was addicted to that feeling, it made sense as it was in her DNA. Or maybe she couldn't spend another perfect day without your smile. It wouldn't be perfect then, she resolved. Alma was equally playful with her response: "Oh, entirely." That earned the Ymbryne an even brighter smile.
She had a lovely time with you and you chatted for hours before your eyes bugged. The figurine on the fireplace mantle, the blue bird you'd seen twice now, was also a clock. Between the falcon's talons, the analog read 1:59. You stared at the bird a little longer than necessary to tell time, then stood. "I am... so sorry. I have to go feed the dogs and give the freaking fish their medicine." You were casually gathering your things and she walked you out.
Alma was very understanding, even while internally doing a dance. She hadn't had the chance to follow you home the day before and Horace still hadn't dreamed of you, to the children's disappointment. She didn't know where your friend's house was and, while she could guess very well, this was best. You stepped away from the hand on your back before she dropped it. She watched you race through the rain in sympathy, but held out hope. "Turn around," the Ymbryne mumbled to herself. She needed a sign you felt something besides relief at having a friend to talk books with; and everyone knew checking on someone after you've walked away implied the kind of feelings Alma was developing the stirrings for. She stepped out of the bookshop herself, only lightly misted on due to the sheltering awning. She smiled when you looked over your shoulder, making eye contact, just before turning a corner. "Mine," she whispered, assuming her peregrine form.
It was perfectly clean for a house that wasn't actually yours. You flitted all around, medicated an aquarium, unlocked a doggy flap, then fed the dogs. The blue bird in the window between the kitchen and living room was relieved that you didn't have to manually take the dogs out due to the aggression they showed. One even snapped at your hand, causing you to drop the bowl onto the ground and back up several steps.
Alma circled the house a few times and lamented that she was right to worry for you. There was no telling how long the upstairs window was open. Someone could climb a single story, or have a ladder if they really wanted in. Alma had to turn into her human form to unlock the door leaving that room. Your 'friend' must've left it open before she left. She hoped. The Ymbryne could hear you on the ground floor, tinkering about and making a late lunch, most likely. That left Alma time to wander and snoop about. She normally wasn't the type, but she needed you in her loop now. Only, she had no plan. She could try to convince you tomorrow, but she had 0 chance tonight. Not to mention, if you saw her in the house, you would likely never trust her again.
Alma was stunned at how filthy the bathroom was. It didn't have anything growing and it looked to have been cleaned recently. But the counter was cluttered worse than the children's was and the shower curtain was pushed to one side. Said shower was nearly empty, barring a bottle of face wash. There were supplies missing from the cluttered counter, like a toothbrush and there was an empty spot for, likely, another bottle of face wash. Though, it was hard to tell with everything else in the bathroom on the counter. The woman felt more secure in her belief you wouldn't come upstairs. She was certain it would be as pristine as downstairs if you had. She snooped through a medicine cabinet, wondering if her desire even could be fulfilled this night.
Fate was on her side. Your friend likely had had some sort of oral surgery, if the prescription ordered by a DMD was anything to go by. Drowsy pain medication. She knew if you didn't pass out, you would be out of your mind. A wild smile set her face alight.
You were quiet when you were alone. There was no need to speak. You had an earbud in and you hummed to it as you traversed the three rooms you'd limited yourself to. Your simple soup sat in your lap and the TV played a show softly. In a lovely bout of irony, the food onscreen spoiled just as you finished. You grimaced and decided not to finish the last four crackers in the pack. You closed the packet and paused at the sounds coming from the kitchen. You stood and returned to that room, dirty dishes and earbud in hand.
Seeing an open window alarmed the crap out of you and you looked around. It seemed you'd made an impression on the avian because that pretty blue falcon perched on the kitchen table. You narrowed your eyes at her, laughing. "Really?" you asked dramatically.
Just in time, one of the dogs came running in, aggressive just at hearing your voice. It was barking mad, and attack eyes fixed on the navy avian. You tried to both shield and shoo the bird out the window. The dog bit your leg, you yelped, and the bird descended. She dove from the crown of your head, her defensive perch, and unleashed her claws with the same ferocity she would a Wight. The wounded canine retreated with a pathetic whine and you laughed still, all the while clutching your bleeding wound.
With a groan, you limped to the bathroom and cleaned and wrapped it. You poured a glass of orange juice and chugged it to soothe your burning throat. You refilled the glass, but took a more measured sip this time. You sat back down, watching the dumb TV show, though still entertained. You made it to the middle of the next episode. Your eyes got heavy and the thought of a nap didn't occur to you until it was too late to even consider it. Sleep took you and your head rocked back.
Alma watched your even breaths with delighted anxiety. She shifted into her human form, locking the dog flap. She took an experimental step nearer to you, watching. You showed no sign of stirring, only encouraging Alma. She cast your luggage a debating glance. In the end, it was best to let you keep the items you brought to another country. She gathered up the personal items left out and likely a few not yours. Now came the hard part. She sat beside you on the couch. Birds, she hoped you would be out of it. The Ymbryne touched your shoulder and rubbed. She called the name you'd given her upon introduction, again and again.
Your eyes were even more exhausted when they blinked open. "Mm," was all you had the strength to grunt.
Alma smiled. If you knew she wasn't supposed to be there, you couldn't do anything about it. Each hand found a shoulder and you were gently pulled to sit up. You groaned in defiance, prompting another smile. She looked down at your nearly sleeping form, pleased. She murmured your name directly into your ear, continuing with, "We're going now." Her voice was nearly a song as she effortlessly prompted one of her Peculiars.
You let out a hum she suspected was a word without lip movement. The side of your face lolled against her shoulder.
The action caused a euphoric reaction in the maternal figure. She cradled you to her like she did Victor. But she swore, in that moment, she would never hold or see your corpse. Likely a fruitless vow, as she had no power to ensure it. But she made this promise every time she had someone new to love, both to them and herself.
Alma hooked her arm under your knees, turning you to sit properly on the couch.
You tried to force your eyes open, confused by all the movement. You were unbelievably tired and you knew it would take almost nothing for you to fall back asleep. So... why the fuck were you moving? You whined in argument as the one holding you went away. They kept a hold on your shirt so you wouldn't slump back like you so wanted to. Your legs danged over the edge of your bed and your shoed feet tapped the ground. You felt devastated at the prospect of walking.
The support returned to your side and you felt the body warmth pressed along your side. You unintentionally leaned against it. Alma trailed her hand over your hair, looping around one of your shoulders, and scratching the scalp closest to your neck. You unknowingly relaxed further against her. It never occurred to you to question why the woman you'd just met was 1) in your temporary lodging and b) touching you so intimately. You let out a sinking hum, chin dropping to her chest. Alma smiled over your head, cooing softly at you. "We're getting up now," she commanded just as gently as everything she'd done in your friend's home, short of defending you with one of the dogs. She went right back to her sweet talk, praising you once you both had you on your feet.
Your heavy head almost caused you to fall back, but Alma held you close. You walked as directed and so it took much less time to bring you Home than Alma feared.
Alma had the easiest time with you while you were stationary. Of course she did, you were practically dead weight when moving. She'd found you looking up at her in the rare instances you walked with her, but that only happened a few times. Helping you sit was a challenge, both in the cab and on the ferry. Your jerky steps were often questioned - Normals had such a way of spotting the unusual - though easily explained away by you being ill. She was glad she never relied on Normals with how easy they accepted her excuse while kidnapping you. Both in the cab and on the ferry, the Ymbryne held you close. Your slow, steady breaths were a comfort no matter where your nose was pointed. Calm exhales against her neck or down the front of her blouse were equally ticklish and exciting. Alma had plenty to think about and plenty of time to do so, her traveling companion unable to converse. She couldn't help wondering what your peculiarity was. She resolved to tell you that tidbit as soon as you'd allow it. She hoped you wouldn't be too resistant to your True Home. Or your forever family. She knew, even if you resented her, as Emma did that slightest bit, you would be able to resist loving her sweet, well-behaved kids. They were already excited to have you, it wouldn't take much.
Cairnholm didn't have much, especially modern Cairnholm, but there seemed to be some developments. For one, one of the women, the only woman working transportation on the ferry offered Alma a wheelchair to help with transporting you. While awed by the kind offer, Alma knew wheels would be useless on the terrain after docking. And so should the woman. All she did was get your temporary wakeful attention and assured her you could make it.
And make it, you did. The path to the Home - the loop entrance - was dreadfully bumpy, and navigating it took some patience. You had neither the muscle memory nor the presence of mind Alma did. In more than one instance, you'd nearly come around in response to her verbal and physical directions. She learned that too many of her soothing touches could overstimulate your sleeping brain. You'd nearly started crying the first time and you shoved her the second. Alma had no comprehension of how you stayed asleep after colliding with the wet ground. She blamed it on the medication.
You were drowsy and confused when she got you back on your feet. Oh, and awake. You bore your own weight, pulling away from her hold to take in your surroundings. Your fingers were glued to your forehead as you spun before returning your focus to the woman calling you. You frowned at every... off feeling in you.
The woman you'd only met the day before was back on- near you, and she was touching you. She spoke softly and confidently, like she had all the answers, and the downright motherly aura confused your already exhausted brain. You were overwhelmed and on the verge of tears again, spinning to try to recognize anything. Of course you didn't. You were in Wales! And in a totally new part as you'd not seen any forests in your lodging's immediate vicinity.
Alma wasn't necessarily explaining so much as trying to lull you back into complacency. She'd no doubt over-dosed the orange juice of your friend's - or maybe you bought it; she didn't know - and you had drank 2 glasses so you were far from your right mind. She told you you were dreaming and promised you'd be safe when you awoke.
You had no reason to trust this woman, but if she was a figment, you didn't have to. She repeated herself softly and slowly eased you back into her hold. She was so warm and kind and she was still speaking so soothingly when you went limp against her. The fog overtook your mind and you latched onto that warmth.
Movement was made easier after that; she really only had to tug on your hands and you stayed walking at her pace to keep your head on her shoulder. Once back in the loop, she cradled you close, still, and brought you into her Home. Your Home. She settled you onto the bed and tucked you in. She smiled down at you and went about checking in on the kids. The house was cleaner than when she left, so she knew they'd been up to no good. Never tell her, that was all she asked. Alma found her in-charge wards in the kitchen and she took over preparing supper. They were mostly done, but a bit behind. The Ymbryne had their meals laid on the table by 5:29 pm.
Her children were excited to see her and immediately began their questions about you. She fielded them easily, getting supper started. You slept still through movietime, but Alma used that time to explain some things. 1) Alma had earned some trust, but she had yet to give you the full low-down on their society. 2) While you might know your Peculiarity, you also might not. And 3) You were in the Home, sleeping. She had to use her mean voice to calm the excited uproar of voices. The bomber planes didn't wake you and it was a new day... sort of.
Sunlight entered your perception slowly and, as always, you were disoriented when you first awoke. You didn't know where you were at first and had to open your eyes to gain any bearings. The room you were in was a mix of good brown wood and dark blue fabrics. The bedspread weighing you down was that deep dark color and the four posts were, of course, wood and therefore brown. A set of window doors were a little to your left. They were what let the sun in.
You stared at a clear, crystal blue sky, confused. You hadn't seen sun in a week. You blinked slowly and pushed yourself to sit up. It took more effort and arm strength than sitting up usually did. You tried to hold yourself up, but wisely scooted back to lay against the headboard. Maybe it was a wall. You had 0 energy or strength.
A soft knock came at the bedroom door and your heart leapt into your throat. Unfamiliar surroundings in a foreign country didn't bode well for you. A small girl with short brown hair poked her head around the door frame. "I hoped you were awake!" the girl chirped. She pranced her way into the room, the curly tips of her hair bouncing with each of her adorable hops. "It's a little late for breakfast, but Fiona makes me my own fruit every morning if you want a snack!" she offered kindly. Right up on you, she pushed the covers aside. You were wearing the same clothes, thank Heaven. Taking your hands, she pulled you from the bed steadily, but with far too much ease.
You stared at the girl with wide eyes as you were brought to your feet. "My God," you gaped out.
The little girl giggled and pulled you out of the room. You stumbled a bit, but she seemed quite adept at steadying others with her excessive strength. She instantly went about talking your ear off. "I'm glad you're awake. We've been waiting for hours and hours. We're all so excited to have a new friend. I'm Bronwyn. What do I call you?"
You stammered out your nickname, confused. Where were you? "Where are your parents?"
"My dad wasn't a nice man."
Your heart went out to the sweet girl.
"But mum's likely just as dead."
That iced your blood a bit. Goosebumps rose on your forearms.
A little boy approached your other side. He appeared perfectly normal, but so did Bronwyn. Unusually, the boy took your hand without a word and then he spoke. "You're gonna get in trouble for getting her up." When the boy's lips parted, several bees flew free. They occupied the air immediately overhead and followed the path you were being led along, almost like they were being commanded, or just tied to their... host?
You blinked. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or dots of darkness due to your weakness.
"She was already awake," Bronwyn responded sassily. "And who knows where she could have gotten off to if I hadn't brought her downstairs."
The boy let out a muffled sound of indignance.
They entered another very lit up room, a kitchen with only a single small table, but also an island. A woman dressed entirely in dark blue stood at the sink, finishing with the two final plates.
"We brought you something," Bronwyn announced.
The boy perked up and stared at the girl with an absurd expression. But any argument died on his lips when the woman turned around.
As did every thought in your confused brain. "Oh, Bronwyn, you know it's not the day for-" It was Alma Peregrine, the woman you'd met in a bookshop, twice.
Your face went deadly serious, questioning your instincts. You really thought she was a good woman. She was all you could see: her sexy wild hair and her heartbreaking expression. She looked at you like you shouldered all of her hope. But she set her face sternly to look at Bronwyn. "Will you two, please, excuse us?" she asked politely enough, despite the emotions you knew raged in her.
Heads down, the children complied.
Once it was only the two adults, you started in on the Ymbryne. "You," was all you could say at the beginning.
"Now, before you-"
You advanced on the woman quickly. "Oh, I'm already. I passed whatever the fuck you're thinking a while ago."
Sure and strong fingers took your wrists and her stern expression came back. For the first time since meeting the charming woman, you were unsettled. "You will mind your tongue in this home."
"I didn't ask to come to this home. You brought me here." You tried to jerk your wrists free when you realized how close you were to her. You didn't want to be in her home.
Alma brought your wrists together, in one hand, and the other reached to graze your cheek. You pulled away. "Out of love," was her excuse.
Now, it was your turn to pin her with a look. "You may not claim 'love'. You don't know me," you stepped closer to her, "we just met-" You wanted to continue, glare glued to your face.
Another child came running in the kitchen, excitedly yet quietly calling for her Headmistress... and you. Her bright blonde ringlets shuddered back and forth as she bee-lined for you. She stopped short of you and looked up with hopeful pretty-blues. "Hi!" she chirped, arm wrapped around a stuffed bear.
She was too adorable, you decided. You smiled faintly before echoing the greeting back at her. No one spoke any louder than she first had. Alma stared over your shoulder, watching the girl wind you around her finger. She wanted to touch you.
"Will you come play with me and the twins first?" she asked in a timid voice you couldn't help but melt at.
"We'll see. That's what I was discussing with your Headmistress. If we could finish that discussion, please, dear?" you requested with the voice you used for children and animals. The girl nodded agreeable before prancing back off. You turned back to Alma, ignoring her smile. "We just met. How psychotic do you have to be-"
"You're goof with them," Alma cut you off with her tunnel vision.
"Irrelevant," you growled at her.
She grinned at you like your aggression amused her. "None the less, you'll not display any violence around the children, no matter how upset you may be with me or otherwise."
You raised your nose. "I know a lovely way to ensure that," you snipped. Spinning, you made for the first door you saw that led outside.
"Tell me, dear, do you even know where you are? When you are? Where the nearest car is? Where the nearest plane is? You're not where you were," she explained.
Rage settled into your veins. You stopped once Alma started talking crazy. 'When you were'... ridiculous. But, still, she was right. You were more lost than you ever had been, than you ever could be. You stomped up to the blue-clad bitch and pinned her to the wall with your forearm on her throat. "And who's fault is that?"
Alma grinned like you were a child throwing your first tantrum for her to temper. "Me," she answered smugly. She took pride in taking what was hers, what was her to take care of. That almost enraged you more. "But there's quite a lot you need to know before you rush off half-cocked." Her arms slowly came to take your shoulders, guiding you back firmly and as confidently as ever.
You decided to play with the kids after all. After a long talk in her office, you were spun out. You'd been in denial about her crazy story until you'd seen your kidnapper transform into your stalker avian. Alma had no shame when you'd pointed out that tidbit. You wondered if she had any at all. Still, a time travel trap with only one entrance-exit sounded like a story to keep you from seeking a ferry. That is, until you saw a swastika painted on a bomb plummeting toward the house. You mirrored the calm in everyone else, understanding there was no danger if Alma was honest and no point in freaking if she was crazy.
Instead, you looked around at the children in the yard. You were all wearing gas masks, but you'd met them all multiple times throughout the day. There were two blue-eyed blondes among the Peculiar Children, but the Nazis still attacked them for being different.
Water seized in the air and you were enraptured. Then, the ticking sped up, the music rewound, and everything went backwards. Stars blinked out and the sun rose from the West. The rain fell up and the clouds dissipated. Shadows were seemingly cast at random because whatever caused them was gone by the time you tracked it. Winds blew at random and Emma and Olive held down their skirts as the only two wearing them, just as the largest gust of wind on September 3rd was blown upwards instead of down.
You had been made to get changed into the pajamas, one set which was dirty and you had a few nightgowns packed for your summer vacation. So, you got to have a Marilyn moment. Grand.
You slept in the movietime room. In the face of Alma's insistence, her hurt expressions, you held fast. You were firm in your boundaries with her, but she didn't seem to take it very seriously.
In fact, later that same night, the woman glided down the steps. She eased into the sitting room and grimaced kindly at your sleeping form on the floor before the hearth. She peeled back the thin couch cover and rubbed your freezing shoulder. She tutted softly. "Dearest," she called gently.
You rolled slightly onto your back, eyes peeking open. You mumbled to yourself and slipped back off to sleep.
Alma laughed, but stared at you stubbornly. "Get up, dear. You need a bed. Comforter." You sat up with her when she pulled up your shoulders, but settled back asleep when against her. The Ymbryne laughed to herself, but pulled you up the rest of the way. The woman quite enjoyed your sleeping self. You revealed your true feelings and clung to her the entire time she guided you.
It was several days of this process. You avoided Alma as often as you could, wandering as far off from the Home as you could until the woman found you and escorted you back with a brief lecture. If you wanted to explore, you ought to go on the daily walk with the kids. Alma would go as well, of course. And every night, you tried to sleep in the sitting room, but awoke in Alma's bed. It was terribly disorienting and you avoided her more so with every day.
On one such occasion, Alma was grateful for that habit as the policeman showed up about an accident Millard had caused at the Llewellyn Home. He had quite the crush on their youngest and it helped that she was blind. She patted Fiona's head after the chlorokinetic told her and instructed she start a game of hide and seek with you and the others. The girl disappeared after she was promised Alma would seek the second round. It was impossible to hide from her, making it a thrill for the children to try. And you could do with the proof.
But it also made her sad, to have you shy from her. Still, you complied with direct commands, clearly playing it safe. She worried you'd been in an abduction situation before, with how calm you were. Or perhaps you had a genuine rule against damaging kids' realities. Any time you were in private, you were rude and aggressive. If she ever tried to touch you, well, she'd put you in Victor's room for an hour after you nearly broke her wrist. Nearly. She stopped touching you, though. And you hadn't spoken for the rest of the day. Perhaps time out with a corpse was harsh.
Your second witnessed reset was all the proof you needed to admit you were in a resetting day, so you knew about how trapped you were.
But she had to work through your hostility. She had to find your soft center. The one she'd seen first.
"What is wrong?" Alma questioned finally.
You stared her down with eyes alight with disdain and rage. "You've... abducted me premeditatedly. You... won't let me leave your Home. You've taken my every escape route, everything I've ever known of Home, you've taken my time from me."
"That's not fair," Alma insisted. "If you're only focusing on what I've taken. I can see all that I've given and if you tried you could see how much more I could give you. I always have more." She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You'll live so much longer, and never with the pain of aging. You've got children who love you, a plentiful island Eden, and a woman who would do anything for you. Look at everything I've given, not just what I've taken."
You pointed at her. "That's not fair. If you have to be taken to be forced to be happy, it's not real. It's a smokescreen and you can't give smoke."
The Ymbryne breathed in from her pipe before setting it down and getting in your personal space. One of her hands cupped your cheek while the other held you close by your waist. "This isn't smoke," she insisted, ironically letting the breath out into the air between you. The visage of her through the mist was oddly attractive. "I'm real. We're real." She leaned down and brushed her lips against yours. The feeling was warm and firm against you. "And we're here for you. We love you," she croaked out. Both hands landed on your waist, pulling you closer until you could press no closer to her. Still, she tugged insistently, like a stubborn child. She'd prefaced the attack with forceful kisses before she moved down your neck. She kissed and nipped, retracting quickly before finding unmarked skin and attacking. Unacceptable. Your very flesh had to broadcast how taken you were. You weren't leaving, ever, because you were hers.
"You've... been around... just children too long. Can't love... what you don't know," you croaked out breathlessly.
The woman laughed low in her throat, like she knew everything, everyone, every type of person. Like you were nothing she couldn't handle. No, you were nothing she couldn't love. And love you she did. You were shoved onto her mattress and bounced just as your heart started thudding. You only just realized the extent of her current emotions. And, now, you were in her bed.
She scratched when she couldn't hold any tighter and positioned you precisely, like a bird correcting the twigs in its nest. She hopped up onto the bed with you, kneeling above your lap. She used her new position to maneuver you further up on the bed. She pulled your nightgown up and it rested about her elbows as her hands explored. She tweaked one nipple and massaged your other breast, reveling in the hitches in your breath. She didn't know if you were being purposefully cautious or if you were naturally quiet, but she continued to work. Her claws down your back made you shiver and so did her finger down your spine. Grabbing your tits and thighs made you warmer and her kisses made you dizzy. Alma took stock of your every reaction. She retreated then returned, tempting you and torturing you with the wave-like attention.
When you finally let out a keen, in response to Alma marking a hickey just behind your ear, she smirked. Rocking back, she hovered over the body she'd long since rid of a nightgown. "Feeling more receptive?" she asked manipulatively. She really meant, feeling more desperate? You avoiding her made her pull back from you as well. The children had too much energy to be touchy-feely. You hadn't had much skin contact since you were in America. Now, you were reveling in another's body warmth. You'd been made accustomed to hers, sharing her bed with you. "May I remove these?" Alma asked, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.
You let out a heavy breath, feeling entirely out of control. A victim to your own feelings, you nodded. Desperate, receptive, you just wanted her. She started pulling and you had to lift your hips to help. She grinned wickedly at you and you couldn't help feeling like you'd lost some sort of game. Simultaneously, you'd won.
She gaped at your exposed center and you knew she saw it as winning too. She traced her fingertips through your wet curls, venturing deeper. She brought her fingers to her mouth and cleaned them with short licks. You almost saw her eyes flash yellow, the pupil sharp and thin. In swift movements, Alma removed her blazer, her skirt, unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, and let down her hair. She focused on your wet core and dropped to lay on the bed. She placed both of your legs over her shoulders, delivering you a final stare. This one shot desire straight to her target, the darkness boring up at you. The wildness, her own desperation hidden in that gaze, victory. She dug in, licking fast, using her teeth and pinning your hips to the bed. It took no time at all for the coil to wind itself up until it blew, taking you with it. Your mouth was trapped open for loud cries, but not a sound passed your throat. Alma stood quickly and removed her underpants. She decided to remove her blouse after undoing the bottom buttons to prevent it from getting wet. She threw it over her shoulder and mounted you once more. One of her legs dipped between yours and she surged forward to knock her cunt into yours. You jolted harder, more sensitive, but the woman twitched, out of control herself. She held the backs of your hips for leverage and moved against you. Her eyes fell shut as she chased her own relief. Alma could admit the loop had deprived her of human contact as well, but she had her perfect girl, mewling softly beneath her, any time she felt those feelings again. Unexpectedly, Alma's bra fell from around her midsection and was pulled from her arms. You pinched and rolled her breasts to bring her closer, too sensitive to continue for much longer.
Alma kept your cunts connected, hands on your shoulder and the headboard behind you, just rocking back and forth, and the rawness of it all had your cries rising in volume and pitch. Your hands dropped and so did your head as your second orgasm smacked into you like a train, and you latched on the nearest gag to muffle your moans.
The vibrations from her nipple sent Alma into her own ecstasy and she drew her nails down your back, mouth mushed against your shoulder. You went limp beneath the Ymbryne and the preening bird slowly laid you back. You hissed at the contact of 40s sheets against your marked back.
Alma giggled like an orphanage mistress and flitted away just long enough to fetch a washcloth. "How's my little birdie?" she asked softly.
You mumbled incoherently before repeating yourself. "Helpless. Was that always part of the plan?" you asked in a slight whine.
Sitting you up slowly, the shifted checked your back, laid you back down, then cleaned between your legs. A finger grazed off to the side for a final sample. She moaned at the taste and looked at you with those dark eyes again. "Eventually."
Perhaps you could learn to go along with her plans.